Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Shen Qingqiu’s dreams have been especially bad the past week.

Well, that’s something of a lie. They haven’t been bad. Not in the moment. It’s only that his mind has been lingering lovingly on those three years with his white lotus Luo Binghe, when they lived peacefully together in the bamboo house: the small routines that they built together; the long evenings as one or both of them worked or read poetry or practiced the qin; the quiet fondness seeping through every moment—

And then Shen Qingqiu would wake, Luo Binghe’s name on his tongue, to remember that he was gone.

Shen Qingqiu has been spending even more time at Luo Binghe’s sword mound than usual.

Last night was actually a nightmare: he dreamed of the Abyss. Not an uncommon nightmare of his, to be brutally honest. Truly, the pleasant (torturous) dreams had to end at some point. They were building the whole time toward the Endless Abyss, as if those weeks of reprieve beforehand were only to make him truly remember what it was he lost.

What he threw away to save his own skin. 

It was a dream from which he managed to throw himself, sitting upright in bed with sweat-soaked sleeping robes, but not before he relived the moment where he stabbed Luo Binghe. The expression on his face—

Well. He knew he wasn’t going to fall back asleep after that, so he pulled on a warm outer robe and made his slightly unsteady way to the sword mound, the moon high overhead.

It is Ming Fan, for once, who finds him there. Ning Yingying usually takes point on this, but Ming Fan is diligent in his duties as Shen Qingqiu’s head disciple, so he’s found Shen Qingqiu at the sword mound no few times. He must have come with Shen Qingqiu’s breakfast and, finding the bamboo house empty, made his way to the clearing where he knew Shen Qingqiu would be.

“Shizun,” Ming Fan says respectfully. “Allow this disciple to assist in getting ready for the day?”

Shen Qingqiu blinks at him. Rather belatedly he realizes that, yes, he’s still in his xianxia pajamas, isn’t he? Even with an outer robe thrown on top, it’s not really appropriate. His hair is even still tied back in its braid for sleep. Not at all the lofty immortal persona Shen Qingqiu usually projects.

“No need,” Shen Qingqiu murmurs. “This master can manage on his own.” Nonetheless, he accepts the hand Ming Fan offers to help him to his feet, and doesn’t say anything about the way Ming Fan trails anxiously behind him all the way back to the bamboo house.

“Would Shizun like this disciple to send for hot water for a bath?” Ming Fan asks.

“Yes,” Shen Qingqiu says, after a brief mental debate. That will at least get Ming Fan out from underfoot for a bit. Also, he hates to admit it, but he is feeling a bit chilled. He really wasn’t clothed appropriately to be out in the frigid mountain air most of the night, especially given the way winter has arrived at the mountain, having spent the past several weeks nipping at autumn’s heels in eagerness to replace it. Shen Qingqiu hadn’t been focusing on his cultivation while at the sword mound; not enough to hold off the chill, anyway.

Ah, Shen Qingqiu supposes it makes sense he dreamed of the Immortal Alliance Conference. He was due for one, and…hasn’t it been a little over two years since it happened?

(Shouldn’t it be Luo Binghe’s birthday soon? His twentieth, and in another world, Shen Qingqiu might have gifted him his guan and—quite possibly—a courtesy name to go with it. He would be a senior disciple, free to leave Qing Jing to explore or take up duties teaching classes or even look forward to settling down with someone. A small life, not one befitting of the Protagonist, but Shen Qingqiu sometimes can’t help imagining those could-have-beens.)

“Thank you, Ming Fan,” Shen Qingqiu says belatedly, an acknowledgement and dismissal all in one. Ming Fan bows and hurries away.

Shen Qingqiu’s disciples are quick to bring him the water. After they’re gone, he sits there in the bath for a good while, slowly warming up. If it weren’t for the talismans attached to the tub, the water would have long since cooled by the time Shen Qingqiu gets around to washing himself or taking on the arduous task of washing his (truly excessive amounts of) hair. He ends up using a bit of qi to help his hair dry quicker once he gets out of the tub. That’s what he gets for washing his hair at the beginning of the day instead of waiting for the night, when he can leave it to dry while he sleeps.

He combs his hair, lavender-infused oil helping to smooth down some of the frizz inherent in using qi to dry hair. He puts on real clothes, ones appropriate for an immortal master, does up his hair properly, and walks through the main room of his home, ignoring the tray Ming Fan left out on the low table for him. He isn’t hungry.

Shen Qingqiu hesitates outside the bamboo house. He half-turns toward the path that would lead him toward the main halls of Qing Jing and all his disciples. In the end, though, he can’t make himself take a step in that direction. He heads instead back to the sword mound.

The clearing is bright with sun now, cutting through the early winter’s chill, though the breeze rustling through the bamboo fights playfully with the sun’s efforts to warm it. Ah, well, Shen Qingqiu will finish unpacking his winter cloaks soon; already he’s unearthed several of his heavier daytime robes, though not the cloaks needed in the depths of winter.

He should have done that earlier, but time slips away from him so easily now, and he no longer has a pair of eager, helping hands to take care of such tasks for him. For today, it’s enough to circulate his qi, maintaining his body temperature. It doesn’t take much effort, nor even conscious thought, to cycle his qi in such a way, so long as he remembers to start the process. 

Barring a distraction, his thoughts turn to dark paths.

The Abyss…

The dream—the nightmare—from last night had so perfectly, awfully captured the details: Luo Binghe’s desperate begging. Shen Qingqiu’s horrified dismay, as Luo Binghe let himself be stabbed. The betrayal and, yes, the heartbreak splashed so clearly across Luo Binghe’s face as Shen Qingqiu pushed him.

Everything happened so fast during the Conference that Shen Qingqiu hadn’t managed to parse many emotions on Luo Binghe’s face beyond the obvious betrayal. Now, distanced from it, with the System’s oh-so-helpful inclusion of fucking Heartbreak Points, Shen Qingqiu was able to see it in the nightmare for what it truly was. It was that, as much as anything else, that dragged Shen Qingqiu out of his sleep. It was that which sent him directly to the sword mound, without a thought for anything else.

To have dreamed for so many days of those peaceful times, and then for his dreams to carry through to the Immortal Alliance Conference—isn’t it too cruel? He already knows what he did. He does. He remembers it every time he wakes up, every time he calls for Luo Binghe, every moment he spends here at the sword mound.

He knows.

And he knows what Luo Binghe will do to him on his return.

Under three years left, now. Time is steadily trickling out of his personal hourglass. The mushroom bodies should be ready by then, assuming nothing goes wrong. Even with the few false starts he and Shang Qinghua had with planting the Sun and Moon Dew Mushrooms when neither of them were gardeners, the bodies look to be growing well. They don’t even need to be checked on that often; Shang Qinghua is often the one who ends up doing so, as he has better excuses to be out near the Borderlands than Shen Qingqiu, even with the night hunts Shen Qingqiu takes.

Three years and then it will all be over. In the meantime…

Well, he keeps Zheng Yang company. That’s something, he supposes.

Shen Qingqiu holds back a sigh as he hears quiet footsteps make their way up the path toward him. Too quiet to be Ning Yingying, bless her, so it must be Ming Fan, back again. That child…

“Didn’t I say there was no need, Ming Fan?” Shen Qingqiu says, not turning around. Look, see? He’s perfectly put together now! No need for this concern. Leave him be.

“Shizun,” a deep voice purrs from behind him. A voice that is most certainly not Ming Fan.

Shen Qingqiu leaps to his feet, thankful that it’s habitual for cultivators—including himself—to take their swords with them wherever they go, even on their peaks. His hand flies for Xiu Ya’s hilt as he turns, but it’s far too late for that. It was too late as soon as this unexpected intruder spoke.

Luo Binghe’s hand lands on his own in a crushing grip, keeping Shen Qingqiu from drawing his sword as his former disciple gets right up in Shen Qingqiu’s face. Luo Binghe is using his right hand to hold Xiu Ya in its sheath, which means that Xin Mo is in his left hand, and Shen Qingqiu can feel the rush of it slashing at his back—

No. No, Luo Binghe wasn’t aiming to hit Shen Qingqiu at all. He was creating a portal.

Shen Qingqiu has a bare moment of dismayed comprehension before Luo Binghe is moving again, releasing his hold on Xiu Ya only so that he can swirl around Shen Qingqiu in a blindingly fast movement, getting behind Shen Qingqiu and using his now-free right arm to pin Shen Qingqiu against him, Shen Qingqiu’s back to his chest.

“Caught you, Shizun,” Luo Binghe says in Shen Qingqiu’s ear, and then he tips them backward through the portal.

(art by Nelleion)

Luo Binghe lands perfectly, because of course he does. Shen Qingqiu, on the other hand, nearly falls—not only because of the way Luo Binghe is holding him captive, but because of the sheer disorientation of the portal. For all that it was a clean slice between locations, Shen Qingqiu felt a truly nauseating sense of vertigo upon passing through it. A detail Airplane had left out of the novel, when it was one’s first time through? Or perhaps an artifact of going directly from a mountain to—fuck, is this the Demon Realm?

Shen Qingqiu claws at Luo Binghe’s arm, desperate to get back through the portal before it closes. He can still see Qing Jing on the other side of it: the clear blue sky, the waving bamboo, Zheng Yang standing proudly before the plaque bearing Luo Binghe’s name.

It’s no use. Luo Binghe’s sleeves are tucked into metal vambraces, keeping his forearm protected from Shen Qingqiu’s attack; his fingers are clenched so hard against Shen Qingqiu’s arm that Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t be able to bend them back if he tried, even without the claws he can feel snagging in the silk of his sleeve and pricking against his skin. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t have the space or positioning to draw Xiu Ya, not with the way Luo Binghe is holding him, nor does he have any other weapons.

The portal closes with a snap.

Even with his escape route cut off, Shen Qingqiu doesn’t stop his struggling. It’s too early! It’s way too early, three years too early, and Luo Binghe has deviated wildly from the script he’s supposed to follow. He was never supposed to return directly to Qing Jing and kidnap Shen Qingqiu; he was supposed to go to Huan Hua and turn the world against Shen Qingqiu from there. Shen Qingqiu can’t predict him now, except for all the ways that he can—human stick, human stick, human stick!—and panic courses through him because the mushroom bodies aren’t ready!

Shen Qingqiu needs to run.

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe says, nuzzling against the side of Shen Qingqiu’s head in a parody of affection. “That’s enough, don’t you think?”

Shen Qingqiu stomps on the instep of his foot.

Luo Binghe laughs, a low, dark thing. “Fine, fine, if Shizun insists…” His hold loosens.

Shen Qingqiu rips himself from Luo Binghe’s grasp, crossing the room in several qi-fueled  strides until he has a wall safely to his back. Better would be a window to throw himself through, but there are none that he can see with a quick scan. Fighting it is, then. This time, at least, Luo Binghe doesn’t stop Shen Qingqiu from drawing Xiu Ya as he faces him.

Indeed, Luo Binghe stays peacefully on his side of the room, right where they arrived. He sheathes Xin Mo, holding his hands up in a mocking gesture of peace, crimson eyes glinting to match the smirk growing across his face.

“Luo Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says, sword leveled between them. “What do you think you’re doing?” His voice does not shake, and neither does his sword hand. Shen Qingqiu is terrified out of his mind, but he refuses to give Luo Binghe the satisfaction of showing it.

"Is it so unexpected, for this disciple to want to see his shizun again?" Luo Binghe asks. 

"There is a difference between seeing and—and kidnapping! Luo Binghe can't expect to get away with this!"

Kidnapping a Peak Lord directly away from Cang Qiong? Luo Binghe may be the Protagonist, but there was always a method to whatever he did. When he held the trial against Shen Qingqiu in Proud Immortal Demon Way, he ensured that no one would come for Shen Qingqiu—no one but Yue Qingyuan, anyway. Shen Qingqiu's reputation in the wider jianghu was completely ruined; it was viewed as his just deserts to be locked away in the Water Prison for the rest of his life, however long or short that may be when at the mercy of those he wronged.

This, though? Liu Qingge and Yue Qingyuan will be coming after him. Hell, they may be able to rally support from the other sects, if it becomes known that a demon infiltrated their sect and stole away a cultivator. Cang Qiong wouldn’t care about the implied weaknesses of their defenses, if it meant they could get one of their Peak Lords back.

It's not as though Cang Qiong’s defenses could have ever held against the unexpected abilities of Xin Mo, but no one else knows that. All they will see is a demon, one with obvious malicious intent, who stole away a human. An event, to Shen Qingqiu’s understanding, that is far too similar to another incident in the recent past, which led to the attack on and eventual subjugation of Tianlang-Jun. Luo Binghe will be in danger from the whole Human Realm, he will face threats from all sides, he will—he—

He looks quite unconcerned, actually. 

"When does Shizun think this lord returned to Qing Jing Peak?" Luo Binghe asks idly. 

Shen Qingqiu feels the blood draining from his face. He had assumed it was only today, a snatch and grab using Xin Mo, but what Luo Binghe is implying...

"Even if this lord weren't so good at disguising his demonic energies," Luo Binghe says, taking a step forward, "he had plenty of time to set up an array around the sword mound." Another step. "An array to assist in the quick dissolution of any demonic qi." Another step. "Shizun's other disciples were so busy today with all their tasks, alongside a few manufactured minor emergencies." Another step. "It's going to take a long while before any of them have a chance to check on Shizun. A long while before they realize he's missing." Yet another step. "By the time they begin investigating, any remaining traces will have dissipated completely, the array itself destroyed after it activated.” One final step, so that Luo Binghe is within Xiu Ya's range now. 

"They won't have any idea where Shizun's gone," Luo Binghe explains kindly. "They won't even know where to start. Even if they did stumble upon some clue, how could they possibly follow this lord?"

He raises one hand, resting it on Xiu Ya's naked blade, and gently pushes it down. Sharp as Shen Qingqiu's sword is, that is enough to split open the meat of Luo Binghe's palm, blood streaking down the blade. Shen Qingqiu drops Xiu Ya the rest of the way without prompting. He can't bear to hurt Luo Binghe any more than he already has. 

"Face it, Shizun: no one is coming after you," Luo Binghe concludes. He smiles again. "It's just the two of us. No interruptions. Not by Cang Qiong, nor any...other annoyances."  

Shen Qingqiu's throat clicks dryly as he swallows. "What...what do you want?" He can barely get his voice above a whisper. 

"Shizun," Luo Binghe says. 

"Don't play games," Shen Qingqiu says. Better to have it all said outright, isn't it? Let Luo Binghe tell him what he wants, so then at least Shen Qingqiu can be prepared. He knows there's a deep well of rage hiding beneath the calmness of Luo Binghe's countenance. 

"Shizun misunderstands," Luo Binghe says. He leans forward, deep into Shen Qingqiu's space. He's taller than Shen Qingqiu now, he realizes abruptly. Back then, their eyes were level. Now, Luo Binghe has to bend slightly to accomplish the same thing. "I. Want. Shizun."

Shen Qingqiu presses himself as flat against the wall as he can. He really doesn't like the sound of that. He especially doesn't like the look in Luo Binghe's eyes, nor how far he remains in Shen Qingqiu's space, nor the way his bloodied hand raises. Shen Qingqiu flinches away from it before he can stop himself, sure that it's going to grab something and tear. 

Instead, it traces softly along his jaw, tilting his head up just slightly. On anyone else, Shen Qingqiu would assume it was to angle better for a kiss. As it is, the angle leaves his throat exposed; he's glad for his high collar, or it would be even more embarrassingly obvious how fast his heart is racing. Between the combination of his demonic and elevated cultivator senses, Luo Binghe can likely hear it anyway, even if he can’t see it. 

Luo Binghe's fingers skate higher, fluttering along the swell of his cheek, leaving a streak of blood as they dance down toward—

Shen Qingqiu turns his head roughly away. He's keeping Luo Binghe's parasites out of his body for as long as possible, thank you! 

"So cautious," Luo Binghe says. "Of course, Shizun is a learned scholar. He knows all about the powers of a Heavenly Demon's blood." He sounds deeply amused. "Shizun needn't worry. This lord has no intention of forcing you to consume his blood parasites right now." His fingers tap lightly against Shen Qingqiu's cheek, a little drumroll of a movement that surely leaves several more splatters of blood behind, before he finally drops his hand and steps back a pace. "There's no need for it." 

The bright, body-wide burst of agony is enough to drive Shen Qingqiu to the ground. His legs fold out from beneath him. He’s fortunate he was already leaning so much of his weight against the wall, so that he slides down it instead of crumpling completely. 

As soon as the pain arrived, it disappears again. Shen Qingqiu is left in an awkward heap at Luo Binghe’s feet, panting. He doesn't think he screamed, but he's breathless nonetheless. He's also excruciatingly aware of the wriggling inside of him. It doesn't hurt, not anymore, but it feels strange, akin to the pinpricks of a sleeping limb coming back to life.

It's a message as much as the pain was: Luo Binghe has already threaded himself through Shen Qingqiu's body. 

When does Shizun think this lord returned to Qing Jing Peak? 

"It was in my tea, wasn't it?" Shen Qingqiu asks, staring at the stone floor. 

"Mn," Luo Binghe confirms. "Over the course of several days. It was in your food, too, for all the good that did. Shizun really doesn't eat enough." 

"...And the dreams?" 

"So sure that they weren't your own guilty conscience, Shizun?" Luo Binghe crouches down in front of Shen Qingqiu. Slowly, Shen Qingqiu raises his gaze to meet Luo Binghe's own. 

In point of fact, Shen Qingqiu had assumed it was because of—well, maybe not a guilty conscience as such. He knows what he did, yes. He didn't have any other choice, so why should guilt come into the equation? 

"What's your goal here, Binghe?" Shen Qingqiu asks. It's only another way of phrasing the same question he's been asking this whole time, yet for some reason, this time gets through to his former disciple. Luo Binghe's lips part slightly with his indrawn breath, the weight of his attention sharpening even further. "Why all this production?"  

Production, ha! In comparison to Proud Immortal Demon Way, this is one hand-held sparkler beneath an entire fireworks display. But if Luo Binghe was too impatient to wait and get his revenge through a layered, multi-step plan—instead resorting to a kidnapping shortly after he escaped the Abyss, when he can barely have established himself in the Demon Realm—then why hasn't he gone for the throat already? Even his use of the blood parasites was brief, a demonstration of what he could do rather than actual punishment. 

Is he drawing it out? Aiming for psychological torture, before beginning the physical kind? Joke's on him, Shen Qingqiu has been living with this particular Sword of Damocles hanging over his head for five years now! He can't get much more terrified than he already is. 

"Would you believe me, if I said I wanted what was?" Luo Binghe asks. "Shizun and that disciple...can't I have that, too?"

'That disciple,' ah? So clearly delineating who he was then from who he is now. Shen Qingqiu's heart aches, even before beginning to consider the first part of that question. 

Does he believe that?

No. How can he? Shen Qingqiu—for all Luo Binghe knows—tried to kill him, there at the edge of the Abyss. He threw Luo Binghe into hell. Luo Binghe is not a man who forgives or forgets. This has to be trick. A trap of some kind. 

If so, it’s a good one. It's quite busy breaking his heart. 

Luo Binghe reads an answer in his silence. His face closes off. He stands. 

"Shizun should rest," he says. "He's had a long day. This lord will fetch food." He stalks toward the door. Pauses, and says, "Shizun has free rein of these rooms, to do with as he wishes, but he shouldn't attempt to leave them." He glances over his shoulder, taking one last look at Shen Qingqiu, before he departs. 

There’s a flare of qi after the door closes. It’s strong, fading quickly—but not disappearing entirely. Wards have been set, if Shen Qingqiu had to guess. Wards to enforce the half-spoken threat Luo Binghe voiced.

Shen Qingqiu is truly a prisoner here. 

True to his word, Luo Binghe returns after half a shichen with food. Shen Qingqiu spends the time in between exploring his glorified prison cell; he’s far too shaken and flush with adrenaline to consider resting, and that’s before considering how extremely unsafe he feels in this environment.

They’re surprisingly well-appointed rooms, actually. Luo Binghe transported them to an open room at the front of the suite, featuring a low table, a scattered few divans, multiple bookshelves, and a qin tucked into one corner. There are hangings on the wall, lavish tapestries depicting a wide variety of scenes, from sprawling battles to forests and high mountain peaks to menageries of beasts, strangely featuring phoenixes prominently throughout.

Set to one side, through another doorway, is what appears to be a small study. There is another desk here, already laid with paper, ink, and brushes for Shen Qingqiu’s use. Sifting through the available items, he notes that there are also various art supplies—paints, charcoal sticks, small canvases—alongside several lovely boards for weiqi and xiangqi. This room, too, has bookshelves, ones stuffed even fuller than the shelves in the front room. Shen Qingqiu is itching to go through them, though he forces himself to leave them be. For now.

It’s the last room that truly shocks him. The first two rooms were designed to appeal to him, yes, filled with objects that he enjoys, but the bedroom—well. He can’t call it a copy of his bedroom in the bamboo house, though an effort was made for at least superficial similarities.  They don’t hold up beyond the first glance, even as Luo Binghe has taken Shen Qingqiu’s sartorial preferences into account, though with obviously richer materials than Shen Qingqiu usually has.

The bed is very similar to Shen Qingqiu’s own, gauzy white curtains hanging down from the roof of it, though missing the bamboo motifs woven into them. The color scheme of the bedding is different, too: green, yes, but a richer shade, and set against a deep slate rather than Shen Qingqiu’s preferred creams. These, too, are missing the bamboo motif, though golden threads picking out the Four Gentlemen across the surface of the uppermost blankets, so bamboo isn’t entirely absent. The pillows are his favored goose-down; Shen Qingqiu got rid of that porcelain nonsense as soon as he took over for the Original Goods, and Luo Binghe has obviously remembered his preferences. A wide oak chest at the foot of the bed almost certainly holds extra linens, while a sword stand is near the head of it for Xiu Ya to rest, next to a bedside table.

The largest difference is perhaps the most literal: this bed is bigger than his. Shen Qingqiu’s bed in the bamboo house is large enough for him to sprawl out on, but clearly meant for one person. This one is…not.

Shen Qingqiu turns away before he has to examine that troubling thought. It’s probably, ah, courtesy. Right? Giving Shen Qingqiu more than he could ever demand, to display Luo Binghe’s own power. Though, again, he doesn’t understand why Luo Binghe should give him anything at all. These rooms are too tailored to Shen Qingqiu’s tastes—if pointedly ignoring more than a surface-level connection to Qing Jing—for them to be general guest rooms.

He explores the rest of the bedroom. There are more wall hangings in this room, depicting similar scenes as in the front room. Plush, sumptuous rugs break up the stone floor of the bedroom; Shen Qingqiu’s boots sink into them as he walks across them, and he can only imagine how nice they would feel against his bare feet.

There’s a privacy screen set up on one side of the room, behind which is a cabinet full of all the bathing supplies—soaps, oils, towels—Shen Qingqiu could ask for, along with a small washbasin; Shen Qingqiu takes advantage of the last to quickly rinse off his face, Luo Binghe’s blood by now gone dry. It flakes uncomfortably on his skin.

Right next to the cabinet is another door. He pokes his head through long enough only to confirm his suspicions. For whatever reason, Shen Qingqiu has been placed in quarters in the part of the palace—the Underground Palace, it has to be, he should have guessed from all the stone walls, not to mention the lack of windows—that have one of the deep-set bathing pools featured in more than a few papapa scenes.

As Peerless Cucumber, he had rolled his eyes at them. The pools were fed by hot springs, they had arrays inscribed into them which helped to clear any impurities that made their way into the water, and they were designed such that there were low stone benches running along the inside of the pools, perfect to sit down on when one wished to…indulge oneself.

God, some of the stupid orgies in Luo Binghe’s personal bathing pool, he swears.

Shen Qingqiu closes that door again, off to examine the rest of the bedroom. Back toward the bed again is a vanity. At a glance, Shen Qingqiu notes several bottles of hair oil, combs, and a few hair crowns out on display. He’s a little nervous to go through the many drawers to see what all else is there.

That’s a feeling which is not assuaged when he opens the wardrobe near the vanity to see it full of the kind of elegant robes he habitually wears as Peak Lord, though these edge his Peak Lord robes out in terms of embroidery and material. In addition to that are the robes toward the back, which seem more sumptuous than even the most formal and decorative robes he ever wore to a high function.

Those are robes to wear to court, he thinks.

He shuts the wardrobe. He goes back to the main room. He sits on the divan that gives him the best view of the door—obviously meant as the place for him to take meals, since there is another divan opposite him and a table between the two—and he very quietly does not panic.

These aren’t the kinds of rooms you offer to a prisoner. His quarters lack windows, that’s true, and he’s locked into them with threat of an unspecified punishment even should he manage to circumvent the wards keeping him here—but aside from that, these rooms could well be for an honored guest.

No, no, not even an honored guest would have rooms as carefully tailored for them as these rooms are for Shen Qingqiu. These are for—for—a beloved friend, a companion, someone for whom the giver would only wish the best. That is not Shen Qingqiu. Not when it comes to Luo Binghe.

He doesn’t understand.

Would you believe me, if I said I wanted what was?

I. Want. Shizun .

Luo Binghe can’t actually be trying to recreate his disciples days. It’s impossible. It’s—

A minor flex of qi flits against his senses. Luo Binghe’s qi, undoing the locking array.

The door opens.

Shen Qingqiu hastily folds his hands in his lap, straightening his posture. He is excellent at putting on the facade of a composed, unaffected immortal. The act may have slipped in the direct aftermath of Luo Binghe kidnapping him, but he’s had enough time now to pull it (mostly) back together.

Luo Binghe strolls in, tray balanced in his hands and jam-packed with dishes. Shen Qingqiu firmly sits on the impulse to help him; not only does well-earned caution keep him from doing so, but old habit. As a disciple, Luo Binghe had often gently but firmly ushered Shen Qingqiu away when he tried to offer any assistance. In his own way, that white lotus Luo Binghe had been imperious as any lord when it came to running the bamboo house and particularly when it came to food.

So Shen Qingqiu watches as Luo Binghe sets a spread of dishes onto the table, laying everything out to be in easy reach from either side. Necessary, since he’s laying out two bowls and cups for tea.

“Won’t Shizun join this lord?” Luo Binghe asks, already having settled himself neatly on the divan opposite Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Qingqiu weighs the merits of trying to claim he isn’t hungry versus how willing he is to offend Luo Binghe versus how very much he wants to eat Luo Binghe’s food again. He’s already been infected with Luo Binghe’s blood parasites, so really, what else could Luo Binghe do to him?

…Well, poison him, obviously. But it seems like too much effort to disguise it in food when he could paralyze Shen Qingqiu using his parasites and force poison down his throat. Plus, it’s not really Luo Binghe’s style. He tends to prefer more personal retribution.

Poison lacks that. 

Shen Qingqiu joins Luo Binghe.

His former disciple is the picture of courtesy, filling Shen Qingqiu’s bowl with his favorites, pouring the tea for the both of them, all around being the perfect and gracious host. He doesn’t wait for Shen Qingqiu before he begins eating, though. Perks of being a demon lord and soon-to-be (if he isn’t already) emperor, Shen Qingqiu supposes.

Which, actually, brings to mind a question he probably should have asked sooner.

“Luo Binghe has made a name for himself in such a short time,” Shen Qingqiu observes. He had very much noted the changed pronoun usage! Not to mention: “He has found himself a lovely home.” Shen Qingqiu assumes it’s lovely, anyway, or whatever it means to call the Underground Palace ‘lovely.’ He can’t imagine they’re anywhere other than that, not with all the details he has already observed in this place.

Besides. What location other than the Underground Palace could Luo Binghe so self-assuredly claim as beyond the reach of his martial family?

“It’s amazing what one can accomplish when one has the proper motivation,” Luo Binghe says. “Of course I had to find my way back to Shizun, and make sure that his stay here would be comfortable.” A distinctly wolfish glint lights his redwood eyes, but it passes quickly. Luo Binghe says, “Shizun should eat. He hasn’t been taking care of himself.”

Great. Luo Binghe may not currently be trying to kill him, but he is doing his level best to emulate Mu Qingfang.

Shen Qingqiu can’t maintain his annoyance at the first bite that he takes. His eyes flutter briefly closed. He’s dearly missed Luo Binghe’s food, and Luo Binghe still remembers his favorites, having taken great care to serve them to him now. It’s yet another indication of how thoroughly Luo Binghe prepared for his arrival: Shen Qingqiu knows for a fact that some of these dishes can’t have been cooked in the half-shichen Luo Binghe was gone, requiring at least several shichen of prep work. As a disciple, there were some days where Luo Binghe was in and out of the kitchen all afternoon in order to prepare dinner.

Silly boy. Far too willing to try and please his master instead of focusing on his studies.

Shen Qingqiu opens his eyes to find Luo Binghe watching him intently. Shen Qingqiu swallows his mouthful. Takes a sip of his tea.

“Is it to Shizun’s liking?” Luo Binghe asks.

“…Mn.”

Fishing for compliments, is how Shen Qingqiu used to tease Luo Binghe when he asked such things. It’s not in question now either, years removed from that time; Luo Binghe’s cooking is sheer perfection. Shen Qingqiu takes another few bites, Luo Binghe still watching with that intense expression on his face, before it finally relaxes into a smile, one that Shen Qingqiu doesn’t trust at all.

“Good,” Luo Binghe says lightly. “This disciple will keep up his promise to Shizun from back then: I’ll give it to him every day, with variations.”

Shen Qingqiu chokes on his current bite. Luo Binghe! To say that to your master again, after you’ve been through the Abyss and presumably papapa’d at least a few maidens! This master knows you’re aware of double entendres! Choose your words more carefully!

“More tea?” Luo Binghe asks innocently.

Glaring at his decidedly guilty disciple, Shen Qingqiu offers his cup. The rest of their dinner is largely quiet, filled only with the small click of chopsticks hitting the edges or bottoms of the bowls. Shen Qingqiu is exhausted by the end of the meal, fighting to keep his eyes open. He reaches for his teacup, and accidentally knocks it over instead.

Oh, Shen Qingqiu thinks fuzzily. He poisoned me after all.

“Shh, Shizun, it’s all right,” Luo Binghe says, coming around to Shen Qingqiu’s side of the table. He catches Shen Qingqiu around the shoulders as he lists to the side.

“What’d you…do to me?” Shen Qingqiu manages to get out.

“It’s only something to help you sleep,” Luo Binghe soothes. “It wouldn’t hit so hard if Shizun weren’t already so exhausted.”

“Luo Binghe…you…”

“Mn,” Luo Binghe hums, and then he’s scooping Shen Qingqiu up into his arms. Fortunately, Shen Qingqiu slips down into sleep before the full rush of humiliation at being princess carried by the Protagonist can hit him.

Chapter Text

Being in a room without windows is distinctly disorienting. Shen Qingqiu has no idea what time it is when he finally wakes, only that it’s hard to force himself to full consciousness for some time, remaining muddled and half-asleep. If he dreamed during the night, however long that “night” lasted, all memory of what occurred in those dreams slips beyond his grasp.

The bedroom is lit by the soft glow of a night pearl set on a bedside table. When he cranes his neck, Shen Qingqiu finds Xiu Ya has been set in the sword stand next to the table. He hauls himself upright, exhaustion weighing heavily on him, though it begins to fade once he’s no longer lying down. He lays a hand on the night pearl, nudging it to greater brightness, and looks down at himself. 

He’s displeased to find that he is no longer wearing the clothes he was kidnapped in. Not in their entirety. Luo Binghe stripped him all the way down to his innermost layers, not to mention took his hair down and braided it. The last isn’t so bad, given Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe certainly spent many a night trading off combing each others’ hair, but the robes—!

Shen Qingqiu strides over to the wardrobe. With luck, Luo Binghe will have simply placed his Peak Lord robes inside, and Shen Qingqiu can change back into them.

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t know why he bothered to hope. They’re not there. A quick scan around the bedroom doesn’t show them folded conveniently anywhere else, either. Luo Binghe has spirited them away. Hopefully only to be washed.

With a frustrated huff, Shen Qingqiu hastily assembles a relatively plain outfit, displeased to find that the robes on offer echo the same color scheme as all else he’s seen: darker, richer colors than his usual fare. He also can’t help but notice a predominance of red and black throughout, though it’s usually kept to small embroidered decorations on the robes. His erstwhile disciple may as well have signed each robe “Property of Luo Binghe,” ah!

He ducks behind the privacy screen to quickly change. Technically he could bathe, given the pool just through the door, but he’s no idea when Luo Binghe might return. Bad enough that Luo Binghe removed so many layers; he won’t let Luo Binghe catch him completely naked!

Once fully clothed—and resisting the urge to find another layer to drape over himself, just to baffle his shape further—Shen Qingqiu goes back toward the bed. He grabs Xiu Ya from the sword stand, firmly strangling the urge to draw it right now to confront Luo Binghe.

He’s not that stupid.

He sits cross-legged on the bed, still-sheathed sword placed across his lap, and begins to aggressively meditate.

Shen Qingqiu isn’t sure how long it is before he hears a light tap at the bedroom door. He pulls himself out of his meditation, but doesn’t answer the knock. He’s not surprised when Luo Binghe walks in anyway. It’s his palace, after all, and Shen Qingqiu only a prisoner.

“Shizun is so diligent,” Luo Binghe says at the sight of his meditation pose. “This disciple prepared breakfast.”

“Should I so easily give Luo Binghe another chance to drug me?” Shen Qingqiu asks coldly. “This master is already at Lord Luo’s mercy; to willingly put myself further into peril is foolishness.”

“Shizun needs to eat,” Luo Binghe says.

“This master is content practicing inedia.”

Luo Binghe is too good an actor to allow the frustration he must feel to show on his face, but there is a sudden skittering inside Shen Qingqiu as the parasites flex. Shen Qingqiu isn’t sure if it’s a silent threat or them responding to Luo Binghe’s annoyance. Either way, Shen Qingqiu doesn’t like it.

It’s just that he also refuses to back down.

Luo Binghe is too calm. Yes, yes, he’s an Oscar-worthy actor in a world where most would barely qualify for community theatre, but he’s too calm.

He has to be planning something.

“It really was only to help Shizun sleep,” Luo Binghe coaxes. “Begging Shizun’s pardon for the presumption.” Notably, he neither bows nor makes any other kind of acknowledgment of wrongdoing. This, then, is an act that he doesn’t care if Shen Qingqiu sees through.

“And disrobing this master?” Shen Qingqiu demands. “Since when does Luo Binghe have the gall to—” He cuts himself off as Luo Binghe’s eyes flash.

“When, indeed?” Luo Binghe muses, a certain sardonic lilt to his voice. “I do wonder, when could that have changed?”

Shen Qingqiu barely dares breathe too deeply. Luo Binghe has made no overtly threatening move toward him, nor flexed his qi or parasites once more, nor even glared particularly harshly at him, yet Shen Qingqiu feels like a rabbit suddenly noticing the shadow of a hawk flitting overhead: There is danger here. Tread cautiously.

“This lord will keep Shizun’s preferences in mind for future reference,” Luo Binghe says. “Come. Breakfast.”

What, in the end, can Shen Qingqiu do other than follow him?

Breakfast is, much like dinner the night previous, a mostly silent affair, though the vague ease Shen Qingqiu managed to obtain while eating the previous meal has thoroughly dissolved. He picks at his food. Drums his fingers against his teacup in a blatant display of rudeness before deigning to pick it up, staring into it before setting it back down without drinking from it. No, it’s not a good idea to taunt the Demon Emperor, but Shen Qingqiu isn’t happy with him and is willing to make that abundantly clear. 

He wants Luo Binghe to stop playing games with him. 

After breakfast is done, Luo Binghe collects the bowls and empty dishes, placing them back on the tray he brought them on. He steps outside the room only long enough to set the tray on the ground, presumably for servants to collect. Once again, Shen Qingqiu is both impressed and dismayed by how much Luo Binghe has accomplished. He may have taught his white lotus a little too well. 

Luo Binghe clears nearly everything, but he leaves the tea on the table, undisturbed. Shen Qingqiu isn’t drinking any of it, Binghe! Fool him once, shame on him, but Shen Qingqiu is wise to your tricks now!

Shen Qingqiu should have been more on guard last night. From now on, he’ll be more cautious.

While Luo Binghe is busy placing the tray outside, Shen Qingqiu stands from the table and moves toward the corner of the front room that hosts the qin. Sitting in front of it, properly positioned to play, lets him have his back to the wall. It’s also a convenient excuse for ignoring Luo Binghe. Yes, Shen Qingqiu is capable of holding conversations while playing, as his disciple well knows, but oh dear, this seems to be a particularly tricky piece that requires his full concentration!

Perhaps predictably, this backfires.

Luo Binghe isn’t at all put out by this unsubtle shunning of him. Instead, he settles himself comfortably in place on one of the divans, positioned so that he can watch Shen Qingqiu perform.

Shen Qingqiu ignores this as best he can. He plays one piece, then another, a third, a fourth. He plays and plays, losing himself in the music, forgetting the original reason why he was doing this. The quiet, appreciative way that Luo Binghe listens to him is too akin to those days in the bamboo house, and Shen Qingqiu is so focused that he—forgets.

Forgets that this isn’t the bamboo house, forgets that Luo Binghe kidnapped him, forgets that Luo Binghe hates him. 

Reality intrudes when there is a hesitant knock on the door. Shen Qingqiu fumbles his chord and draws the piece to an abrupt halt. Luo Binghe sits up from where he ended up lying almost entirely horizontal while he listened, a scowl crossing his face before he wipes it away. 

“Excuse this lord for a moment, Shizun,” he says, standing. He steps outside the door to Shen Qingqiu’s comfortable prison, closing it behind him.

Even with his cultivator’s hearing, Shen Qingqiu can’t make out much more than a murmur of voices, maybe a quiet my lord thrown in there. Affairs of state, Shen Qingqiu assumes. If Luo Binghe has already progressed far enough to have access to the Underground Palace and the title of lord, then no matter how small or large his current domain is, he has to do at least some of the running of it. It’s rather surprising that he had enough time to spend on Shen Qingqiu this morning as it is. 

…Does Luo Binghe have the title of emperor yet? He’s Tianlang-Jun’s child, so it’s his by right—and then by conquest. Shen Qingqiu should probably operate under the assumption that if he hasn’t claimed the title yet, he will soon. Luo Binghe is dedicated to getting what he wants, so it surely won’t be long.

It can’t hurt to address Luo Binghe with more respect that he’s technically due. Plus, Shen Qingqiu read millions of words where Luo Binghe was emperor; it’s not going to be a difficult switch for him. Best to lean into it.

That decided, he goes back to listening as intently as he can. Apparently whatever matter is being brought up to Luo Binghe is not one that can be put off. The quiet murmuring ceases, but Luo Binghe does not reenter. Shen Qingqiu catches the faint thread of qi in the air as whatever array Luo Binghe has used to seal him in reactivates.

He is alone in his rooms, locked away once more. 

Shen Qingqiu stands and retreats back to the bedroom. It’s time to take care of something that he should have handled last night, while he was in the middle of examining his new quarters. It might have come in handy then.

It might save his life still.

System, Shen Qingqiu calls. System, are you there?

It went off-line because Luo Binghe disappeared into the Endless Abyss, right? So, logically (and unfortunately), it should be back now. If it isn’t…well, at least then Shen Qingqiu will have certain freedoms and opportunities that he was previously unable to explore. For all the good that does him now.

[Welc-c-come back t-to the System-m-m!] 

Shen Qingqiu flinches away from the stuttering screech of the System. It’s layering its own voice over itself as it haltingly makes its way through that simple sentence. There’s a high whine behind it that sounds like a computer about to crash. No fucking wonder it didn't try to speak to him earlier, if it's acting like this! This is worse than the automated response post-Abyss!

[Ple-please excuse our tech-tech-technical diffic-cult-ties! Unfort-unfor—ately this Syst-tem-m is suffer-ering from a soft-oftware bug and m-m-m-must reboot. Thank-than-thanking Host for h-h-his patien-ience!]

Fucking incredible. The System disconnected for two years and even when it updated, the update immediately crashed it again. All Shen Qingqiu can do is wait to see if it comes back. It didn't exactly give him an estimate for its reboot, so he figures he can check in every so often and see if it has some sort of automated progress feed. 

...Maybe he'll wait until tomorrow to do that, though, because that was a deeply unpleasant experience. 

In the meantime, he needs to act as though the System will come back. Which means no doing anything that will take points away from him. His points were all reset to zero post-Abyss. Without the OOC lock and with the Endless Abyss quest behind him, there's not much that he can do to get points taken away, but best to tread cautiously. 

Perhaps more importantly, since the System inventory out of reach, that ameans Luo Binghe's fake jade Guanyin pendant is unavailable to him. 

He’d hoped the System might be able to give him more information about the situation he’s landed himself in, yes, but what he really wanted was a chance to take the Guanyin pendant out of storage.

He would really, desperately like to have access to that necklace. It can absorb Luo Binghe's anger points, and Shen Qingqiu is going to need that ability sooner rather than later. He wouldn't use it immediately, but having it on hand and ready to use would be really nice. 

System, please reboot soon! Or at least long enough for me to get my inventory back!

Shen Qingqiu scrubs a hand over his face. No System, no allies, no access to the outside world. Luo Binghe's blood parasites inside him, so even if he could escape, he would have a neon arrow pointing in the direction he'd gone. Which doesn't even go into the fact that an escape attempt might tip Luo Binghe over the fragile edge he's currently sitting at and make him aggressively drop the pretense. 

(Shen Qingqiu has been trying to get him to do that, yes, but he doesn’t want to do anything to compound the outrage that Luo Binghe will mete out against him. An escape attempt would almost certainly qualify.)

The mushroom bodies aren't ready. He has no way to let Shang Qinghua know that he needs to find a way to speed up their growth—

Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Maybe he does have at least one ally! Mobei-Jun is Luo Binghe's righthand man (presumably by this point Luo Binghe has already recruited him, right? Or he will soon?), and Shang Qinghua is Mobei-Jun's servant-spy-handyman.

Is there a possibility that Shang Qinghua will be able to carry the news back to Cang Qiong? If Luo Binghe doesn't know that Shang Qinghua is the traitor—and even if he does—then he doesn't know Shang Qinghua is friends with Shen Qingqiu. That relationship only started after Luo Binghe fell into the Abyss!

Of course, that relies on Shang Qinghua's inherent cowardice not overriding his willingness to help Shen Qingqiu, but Shen Qingqiu can work with this. 

Even if Shen Qingqiu never sees Shang Qinghua face-to-face, the rumors of Shen Qingqiu's presence will be enough for Shang Qinghua to carry to Cang Qiong. More than anyone else, he’ll understand the danger Shen Qingqiu is in.

He has to. 

Okay. That's one plan, then. One hope for Shen Qingqiu to hold onto. He'll keep assessing the situation as it progresses. 

In the meantime, he'll go back to meditating. He has to believe Luo Binghe remembers what is needed to treat Without-A-Cure, both in terms of the medicine and circulating his qi. The true question is whether Luo Binghe will provide either of those for him. Fatally poisoning Shen Qingqiu himself might not be Luo Binghe’s style, but who’s to say he won’t take advantage of the poison already inside him?

Without-A-Cure is painful. Not always, not every time, but some attacks are more harrowing than others. And the longer the flare-up lasts before he’s treated—well. Neither Mu Qingfang nor Liu Qingge have ever let it get that far, but Shen Qingqiu has several quite well-educated hypotheses.

He doesn’t want to prove any of them right.

He needs to hold off a flare-up for as long as possible.  

Luo Binghe remains gone for the rest of the day. Shen Qingqiu doesn't venture out of the bedroom, so he isn't sure if Luo Binghe stops by briefly to bring lunch—albeit without disturbing Shen Qingqiu—or brings nothing at all; whichever way it fell, Shen Qingqiu doesn't eat lunch. He’s definitely made aware of it when Luo Binghe comes to his rooms for dinner, though. 

Yet again, he doesn't drink the tea. He retreats to his bedroom as soon as dinner seems to be done. 

Luo Binghe watches him go. Shen Qingqiu catches one last glimpse of him before closing the door between them: Luo Binghe sits at the table, alone, his chin propped up on the palm of one hand. His fingers tap a slow rhythm against his cheek, a match to the steady, almost hypnotizing pulse of his zuiyin. All his attention is fixed on Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Qingqiu has no idea what's going on in Luo Binghe's mind, what plans are being pieced together behind that inscrutable mask. A shiver crawls up his spine.

He hurriedly finishes closing the door. He wishes the bedroom door had a lock. It wouldn't do anything to keep Luo Binghe out, not if he really wanted to get in, but it would make Shen Qingqiu feel obscurely better. 

That night, he doesn't sleep. Shen Qingqiu gets back into his meditation pose and waits for Luo Binghe to summon him again. 

"If this lord swears not to drug the tea, will Shizun consent to drinking it?" Luo Binghe asks. "Shizun will grow dehydrated eventually." 

It's funny, actually. Shen Qingqiu has been largely subsisting on tea for the last few years, but now it's switched: food goes into his body, but all drinks are determinedly avoided. However, even with inedia, Luo Binghe is right: eventually, Shen Qingqiu will have to give in. 

"What promise could Lord Luo make that this master could believe?" Shen Qingqiu says, not quite a scoff. 

Oh, that hits a nerve. There is a faint intake of breath. It’s the kind that Shen Qingqiu recognizes from personal experience as Luo Binghe's exasperated and frustrated noise. It was most commonly evidenced when someone—not Shen Qingqiu!—interfered with one of his plans (Ming Fan or another of his martial brothers), or infringed on what he considered his territory (the bamboo house, especially the kitchen, though no chores in their home were safe to hand off to other disciples, not after Luo Binghe began living with Shen Qingqiu).

Ha! Luo Binghe always got so offended when Liu Qingge would dump beast carcasses on the lawn in front of the bamboo house; more so than Shen Qingqiu himself did, even! Then again, Shen Qingqiu wasn't ever the one who had to clean it up.

Shen Qingqiu has never had this particular exasperation directed his way before. Luo Binghe wouldn’t dare.

He dares significantly more than he used to—

"Zheng Yang," Luo Binghe says. 

At that, Shen Qingqiu looks up from where he was picking idly at his rice. Luo Binghe’s first sword. His spiritual sword, shattered though it may be, outgrown and abandoned in favor of Xin Mo—but not willingly. Never willingly. Shen Qingqiu thinks his white lotus must have been even prouder of that sword than the Luo Binghe of Proud Immortal Demon Way. He cherished it. 

Shen Qingqiu cherishes it, too. That’s why he gathered its shards and carried them home, the only marker to the grave of that little white lotus. 

It's no dire oath, this. Certainly not one that is spiritually binding; there will be no rebound effect on Luo Binghe should he break this oath, but that doesn’t matter. The intent is there. This means something to the both of them.

Silently, Shen Qingqiu nudges his teacup forward, close enough for Luo Binghe to fill. He's perfectly well aware that Luo Binghe's oath only holds in relation to tea, specifically. There's no guarantees on food, or wine, or incense, or—well. Shen Qingqiu’s defiance has always been about making a point rather than him truly believing it would be effective.

At least now he can trust it won't be in the tea. 

He drinks. 

"Shizun is still grumpy in the mornings without his tea," Luo Binghe observes. 

With the ease of long practice, Shen Qingqiu ignores this. Sue him if he waits until he can smell Luo Binghe's cooking before dragging himself out of bed in the mornings, or if it takes at least half a pot of tea before he's properly awake! Not everyone can be a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, morning person of a teenager! 

...Ah. But that's rather the point, isn't it? Luo Binghe isn't that teenager anymore. Shen Qingqiu made sure of it.

Shen Qingqiu takes another slow sip of his tea, using that moment to properly assess Luo Binghe for perhaps the first time. He's certainly grown into himself. He's that little bit taller, which Shen Qingqiu had already noticed, and—and it seems he's been taking care of himself.

It can't have been easy finding food for himself in the Abyss. Shen Qingqiu flatters himself to think that, with Luo Binghe's improved cultivation under his teachings and a reduced time in the Abyss, he exited it in better shape than his novel counterpart. Whatever strength or weight he might have lost in the Abyss, he clearly gained it all back, his healing no doubt going into overdrive to assist him. 

Shen Qingqiu has no idea how long Luo Binghe has actually been out of the Abyss. If he’s recovered from the damages it dealt to him—not to mention managed to take over the Underground Palace, if not more lands currently unknown to Shen Qingqiu, and prepared it all for his arrival!—he must have truly made it through quickly.

He wonders how much of that may have to do with his seal being completely released at the Immortal Alliance Conference. In the web-novel, the Black Moon Rhinoceros-Python only cracked it, which left Luo Binghe with limited demonic power on top of his crippled spiritual cultivation from the the Original Goods’ efforts.

Certainly something about being unsealed has kicked up Luo Binghe's cultivation—both spiritual and demonic—to lend him the easy agelessness of true immortals. Luo Binghe has always been flawlessly beautiful, but whatever he experienced in the Abyss, it has lent a sense of experience to him, the kind that makes it difficult to judge an immortal’s age. If Shen Qingqiu hadn't known better, he might have assumed Luo Binghe was older than the couple months from twenty he actually is. 

That's the Protagonist halo for you, Shen Qingqiu thinks somewhat ruefully. 

Luo Binghe is dressed down for this visit. Perhaps that shouldn't be a surprise. Why should he bother dressing in the full regalia of an emperor—if he already has such finery easily available—when all he's doing is visiting his shizun? He wasn’t wearing such that first night either—but then, when he was sneaking around Cang Qiong, why should he have needed or wanted such excess?

His hair fits with the rest of his outfit—neither so elaborate as would be needed if he were going to be in court, nor quite so simplistic as Luo Binghe ever wore it as a disciple. He has a lovely gold and ruby guan holding his hair out of his face, but it’s in a simple half-up style, leaving his curls to tumble down his back, with a few strands fetchingly framing his face.

The only added decoration is, Shen Qingqiu suddenly realizes, a small braid at one side of his head. It’s not one that is echoed on the other side, and it can’t have been braided this morning. It’s a mess of a braid, obviously having been left in place long after Luo Binghe should have unraveled it. 

It looks rather a lot like the small braids Shen Qingqiu would occasionally leave in his disciple’s hair. 

It was a process, getting Luo Binghe’s hair back to the shining health it should have after Shen Qingqiu took over for the Original Goods! It was what originally began their frequently shared evening hair routines. Shen Qingqiu had naturally straight hair, which was simple enough to care for. His hair hadn’t been much different as Shen Yuan (though it had been nowhere near as long!), but he’d watched random hair and make-up videos with his sister on occasion. More than once she had forced him to do her hair for her.

So, while Shen Qingqiu was by no means an expert, he had a better understanding of how to deal with Luo Binghe’s thicker and curlier hair than his disciple had quite figured out yet. And then—well, it was very nice hair! Shen Qingqiu hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to spend a little longer playing with it as Luo Binghe sat in front of him, and that eventually led to little braids. Luo Binghe had liked them, too! Or at least he had seemed to, never protesting when Shen Qingqiu snuck a few in there.

Did he…really braid Luo Binghe’s hair like that, just before the Conference? He doesn’t clearly remember it, but it’s entirely possible he did it without thinking. One last benediction from his master; one small token of affection to his white lotus, before he severed their bond forever. 

Luo Binghe, it seems, kept that braid. Through the entirety of the Abyss—directly after Shen Qingqiu’s betrayal—through all the dangers—he kept the braid. 

…Ah, his body isn’t used to eating so much food anymore. He thinks he’s given himself heartburn. 

Luo Binghe reaches across the table and gently removes the teacup from his hand, fingers brushing against his own. Flustered, Shen Qingqiu realizes he’d been holding it up, no longer even drinking from it, while staring at Luo Binghe. He clears his throat, desperately wishing he had a fan. 

Which reminds him, actually—

“What did Luo Binghe do with my other robes?” Shen Qingqiu asks. 

There is a suspiciously long pause, before Luo Binghe says lightly, “They’re only being cleaned. This one will returned them soon.” Without waiting for a response, Luo Binghe asks, “Does Shizun not care for the clothes this lord has provided?”

The way he says it, it’s clear that there’s a right and a wrong answer.

“You…Lord Luo has offered this master great courtesy,” Shen Qingqiu says, choosing his words carefully. “But there is comfort in familiarity. Lord Luo offers more than this one is accustomed to.”

“Mn,” Luo Binghe says. “Shizun will want for nothing while he is here, I will make sure of it.”

Nothing save the ability to leave, Shen Qingqiu thinks sardonically. Nothing save freedom.

Since he’s not an idiot, he doesn’t say that aloud.

Luo Binghe is called away again. Shen Qingqiu paces the front room for a while, before ultimately retreating to the bedroom once more. It’s safest, not least because it will give him a moment’s grace to hide his reactions should Luo Binghe unexpectedly reappear.

System? he calls into the void.

[Gree-reetings to Host!] the System says. [Please con-connect to power so-so-source to finish-ish-ish reboot.]

Shen Qingqiu frowns. The System’s power source is Luo Binghe, isn’t it? How does it not already have enough power to finish its reboot? They’ve been in close proximity enough, surely. Or…what does it mean, exactly, to connect with the power source?

What do I have to do? Shen Qingqiu asks.

There is a long enough pause that Shen Qingqiu almost thinks the System has shut itself back down into sleep mode and he’ll have to figure this out himself.

The System says, [Please ma-ake physical con-ontac-ct with Protagonist: Luo Bing-ing-he.]

A shiver crawls up Shen Qingqiu’s spine. For how long?

No response.

System, for how long? What kind of physical contact? Answer me!

This time, it seems, the System is truly gone back into sleep mode.

Shen Qingqiu sits there, fuming. Luo Binghe kidnapped him! How was that not enough ‘physical contact’ to finish the reboot?!

Is it worth it, to figure out a way to get into physical contact with Luo Binghe? If a simple brush of the hands or the like isn’t enough, is it even possible for him to find some excuse to allow Luo Binghe to touch him for long enough that the System can finish its reboot? Does he want the System back?

…He’s already considered that thought, and he’s too committed now. Better to have the System back, especially if it’s going to do its level best to give him a migraine due to its malfunctioning. Plus, Shen Qingqiu doesn’t imagine he’ll be successful at avoiding Luo Binghe’s touch forever, and there’s no telling how the System might decide to arbitrarily punish him if he takes too long to finish rebooting it.

Wonderful.

Shen Qingqiu reclines back in the bed. He means to close his eyes only briefly, to aid in his brainstorming, but before he realizes what’s happening, his lost night of sleep is catching up with him.

Darkness drags him down.

Fingers run gently through his hair, scratching lightly against his scalp before moving downward in long, slow passes. Shen Qingqiu is comfortably warm, a light blanket thrown over him to accompany the heat of the figure he’s pressed against. He hums, tilting his head further into that warmth, allowing the fingers to reach—there, yes, perfect.

A low chuckle reaches his ears.

Shen Qingqiu jolts fully awake and throws himself away from Luo Binghe. The blanket tangles around his legs, making his retreat to the opposite corner of the bed from Luo Binghe clumsy. His guan, which he accidentally fell asleep in, is placed on one of the pillows, where Shen Qingqiu’s head distinctly wasn’t, because he’d been sleeping halfway in Luo Binghe’s lap.

If Shen Qingqiu were any less dedicated to the immortal facade he’s been wearing for nearly six years now, he would probably be letting out an absolutely mortified whine right about now. As it is, he’s barely resisting the urge to untangle the blanket around his legs so that he can hide under it like some virginal maiden being spied upon in the bath. Somehow the fact that Luo Binghe stripped him down to his inner robes is almost less embarrassing than sleeping on top of him and leaning into it.

“What are you—what did—?” Shen Qingqiu can’t formulate a proper question.

“Apologies, Shizun,” Luo Binghe says, raising his hands. “I came to deliver your robes to you, but you were napping. It looked…uncomfortable. This disciple only wished to help.”

“Don’t,” is all Shen Qingqiu manages to splutter. “Get out of—” My bed? My room? Except oh fuck, wait, he shouldn’t—can’t!—be ordering around the Demon Emperor. 

Despite that, Luo Binghe slides off the bed, still holding his hands up in an affectation of peace.

“Apologies, Shizun,” he says again, sidling toward the door. He doesn’t sound particularly repentant. “This disciple took a moment to put away your old robes. Shizun can find them in his wardrobe.”

Then Luo Binghe is out the door, closing it behind him. Shen Qingqiu is obscurely certain that he lost that round of whatever game it is they’re playing.

Fuck. 

He shoves his face down into his drawn-up knees and groans. Quietly, for what it’s worth, but who’s to say whether Luo Binghe has exited the suite of rooms completely or if he’s right outside, listening to Shen Qingqiu’s embarrassment. He only stopped by to drop off Shen Qingqiu’s clothes—yeah right! If that was the reason, if he had such pressing matters to attend to, then surely he would have left again immediately! Who knows how long he was sitting there, finger-combing Shen Qingqiu’s hair!!!

At least Shen Qingqiu has his original robes back. Casting a cautious look at the door, he slips out of the bed, untangling the blanket from around himself as he does so and tossing it where it belongs. He creeps toward the wardrobe, watching the door to see if Luo Binghe is going to come back inside.

…Is it worth potentially making Luo Binghe angry to create warning or locking talismans?

Shen Qingqiu lets out a huff. First he needs talisman paper. Did he leave any stored up his qiankun sleeves? He certainly didn’t spot any in the small office Luo Binghe…gifted him. 

At least now he can check. 

He pulls out the robes he arrived here in, annoyed that they’re tucked so far away in the back. That took effort for Luo Binghe to do, rather than simply placing them in the front. Making a point about which clothes he wants Shen Qingqiu to wear, maybe?

As if he hadn’t gotten that hint the first time Luo Binghe asked how he liked them. 

Shen Qingqiu has pointedly been wearing the bare minimum, at least when it comes to accessories and the like. That’s the other part of the reason he wants an opportunity to fish through his sleeves. Did he in fact leave a fan tucked up his sleeve? He doesn’t dare touch the ones Luo Binghe has left out for him, any more than he dares to examine much of the make-up or jewelry too closely: it’s all too fine. Far too fine for the master that Luo Binghe should, by all rights, despise.

Okay, let’s see what’s in here…

Book (Qing Jing library’s, oops). Another book (that one was one he bought and later hurriedly tucked up his sleeve because he didn’t want anyone to know he was reading it). Notes from the last Peak Lord meeting (ugh, and also: useless, but at least they feature an admittedly funny hand-drawn meme that Shang Qinghua slipped him). A small notebook (oh, that’s where that went, he was looking for the notes he made about Garnet Noseless Hellhounds last month). A bag of candy (yikes, that’s old; he’s not sure when the last time he bought little candies for his disciples was, but probably…probably before the Conference. Qiankun spaces are good at preserving the items stuck inside them, but he isn’t going to feed anyone two year old candy, either). Finally, yes, a fan!

Shen Qingqiu snaps it open and remembers exactly why he placed this one up his sleeve. He has a bad habit of doing that and then forgetting what’s in his qiankun spaces, as evidenced by this little mini-adventure just now. It used to be one of Luo Binghe’s tasks to remind him about removing items from them before washing day—not that anything inside them would have been damaged unless the actual embroidery of the qiankun sleeves was. Luo Binghe was always far too careful—and well-trained, thanks to his mother—to have done any damage like that.

This is a fan that Luo Binghe made. One of his very first attempts: he was furiously embarrassed about it. Shen Qingqiu barely swooped in in time to stop his disciple from tossing it straight into the trash, which is undoubtedly what happened to the other first attempts. Shen Qingqiu had, in point of fact, shoved it up his sleeve to keep Luo Binghe from trying to steal it back in order to get rid of it. Unlike now, Luo Binghe wasn’t bold enough to go digging through his shizun’s sleeves in order to pull anything out of them, even something that would embarrass him.

…Ah. That brings up an important thought, though. Can he be sure that everything is in his sleeves that should be there? Would Luo Binghe have gone through them? There’s nothing that he’s positive should be in there, therefore nothing that he could use to gauge Luo Binghe’s (currently theoretical) theft.

The presence of this fan, he supposes, is proof enough. Shen Qingqiu likely wouldn’t have ever realized it was missing. He’d almost forgotten it existed, in all honesty.

If Luo Binghe wasn’t taking the opportunity to go through his supplies, then why had he taken the robes from Shen Qingqiu? Again: he has his blood parasites in Shen Qingqiu. It’s not as though there’s that much more he could do to keep track of or control his shizun, though Shen Qingqiu does take a moment to examine the embroidery of the robes, turning them inside out to see if anything has been added to them.

Hm. Nothing, it seems. Luo Binghe really…took them, cleaned them, and gave them right back.

This plan was something of a bust. He isn’t going to be using this fan in front of Luo Binghe, not when it would be far too easy for his former student to reach out and take it away from him in the way he would never have done when he was Shen Qingqiu’s student. In a very real way, it’s one of Shen Qingqiu’s few reminders of the white lotus he was. Especially since he has no sword mound to visit here.

He folds the fan, placing it carefully back into one of the sleeves. Then, at long last, he approaches the vanity. He sits down, and begins to actively go through all of the materials laid out for him there, the ones which he very much had not gone through previously.

The bronze mirror is large, highly polished so that it gleams as it casts wavering reflections back at him. Atop the vanity, there are creams and rouge and kohl, with thin brushes to apply it when necessary. Delicate glass bottles of perfume are cozied up next to a small selection of hair oils, their number limited only due to the fact that there are more in the cabinet next to the baths. There’s a wide variety of combs, several meant for brushing his hair out, while others are clearly meant as ornaments; accompanying them are a variety of hairsticks, boxes full of glittering or delicately wrought pins, embroidered ribbons, and jeweled filigree guans.

All this only atop the vanity! There’s hardly room for Shen Qingqiu to breathe without worrying he might knock items off it!

With trepidation, he starts opening drawers. Thankfully they aren’t stuffed entirely to the brim—he’ll be able to move several items from the top of the vanity into them—but they aren’t too far away from that, either. The top drawers feature plenty more items for styling or decorating his hair, and even something that looks suspiciously like a coronet, which Shen Qingqiu firmly buries back beneath the guans where he found it.

Below those drawers, there’s more jewelry than only the coronet: all sorts of earrings wink up at him, some mere chips of precious jewels set in silver or gold, while others are long and dangling, and still others are lightweight shapes of flowers or birds or even—of course—Luo Binghe’s zuiyin; necklaces lie in narrow boxes so that they don’t tangle, strings of nightwater pearls found only here in the Demon Realm or carved beads of Heart’s Brittlebush inlaid with paint made of shimmering Lunar Gilliflower featured alongside more common precious metals; further than that are bracelets, arm cuffs, anklet bracelets, is that another fucking coronet—?!

Shen Qingqiu hurriedly moves on.

The last few drawers feature fans, thankfully. On Qing Jing, Shen Qingqiu has a display of them on his walls—he does, perhaps, have an excessive amount. There’s nowhere near that amount here, though Luo Binghe was obviously aiming for quality rather than quantity.

Not that he stinted on quantity when it came to everything else. Shen Qingqiu is sure that if he stays here long enough, he’ll be inundated with fans.

As it is, he picks through them carefully, trying not to think about how mindbogglingly expensive these must have been when they were made. He assumes they, like all the jewelry foisted upon him, were buried somewhere in the treasuries of the Underground Palace, locked away and left undisturbed until Luo Binghe ventured inside.

…Not unlike Shen Qingqiu himself.

Anyway. It’s somewhat fortunate Shen Qingqiu is trapped inside these rooms; given his habit of losing his fans, he’s not sure he would feel comfortable carrying one of these out and about.

In the end, he selects not the plainest fan, as he originally intended, but one of the fancier ones: wood from a Blessed Silver Mercy’s Bower, the pale striations of the wood composing the guard and spokes highlighted by the actual silver capping the ends of them, more silver dancing like vines along the guard, with chips of emeralds creating the leaves; the distinctive pure black silk, contrasting strikingly against the pale spokes, can only have come from a Black Cinnabar Moth; iridescent paints depict two cranes standing in a pond, each crane’s feathers picked out in subtle embroidery, while stars wheel overhead.

He flicks it open in front of his face, fanning gently.

Now, while he's still alone, it’s time to take care of some other business.

System, he calls. It’s convenient that Luo Binghe had, in fact, been in physical contact with him. For an undefined period of time, at that! If there's anything that would get the System back to full functionality, it would surely be that. Even as it makes him want to scream in embarrassment and the last threads of lingering adrenaline, at least it’s worked out for him here.

[Hello, Host! Welcome back to the System! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕) ﾉ *: ·✧]

Fuck you, Shen Qingqiu thinks sourly. What was all that nonsense about software bugs? 

[This System is always running performance checks and patching problems in the background,] the System tells him. [Upon being disconnected from Protagonist: Luo Binghe, this System went into hibernation mode, which allowed time for updates! Unfortunately, a software bug occurred which prevented this System from restoring itself properly. Thanking Host for his patience and for following System commands! Please remain patient with any further software errors or delays in processing requests. ( ▰ ˘ ◡ ˘ ▰ ) ]

Those goddamn kaomoji, he fucking swears. Thanks for telling him nothing that he hadn't already figured out on his own, System! ‘Please remain patient with any further software errors or delays’—is it already expecting more?!

God. Typical for the System to update and manage to fuck even that up. Plus, the only difference he's currently noticing is a slightly different interface and a voice that is more akin to Siri than a knock-off Google Translate; he has the strong feeling that this update has done nothing to actually help him. 

Shen Qingqiu will have to take care of that himself. Per usual.

I want access to my inventory, he thinks at the System. 

[Accessing Host inventory! Would Host like to make any changes to inventory at this time?]

Yes, obviously! That's why he pulled it up! He wants to pull something very important out of it! 

Give me Luo Binghe's jade Guanyin necklace. 

The System flashes a loading icon at him. 

Are you kidding me?! It's right there! Give it to me! 

The System flashes the loading icon at him again, as if in reprimand. Shen Qingqiu waits, fuming. 

Finally, the System says, [Apologies for any confusion. This System has successfully recalculated point distribution! Is User sure he would like to use Item: Fake Jade Guanyin at this time? Reminder: this item can nullify 1000 to 5000 of Protagonist: Luo Binghe's Anger Points.]

There's a range?! Why isn't it a flat number? 

[Would User like to use Item: Fake Jade Guanyin at this moment?] the System asks, pointedly not answering his question. 

Dammit—what are his Anger Points right now?

[Protagonist: Luo Binghe’s Anger Points are currently 800.]

This is 800?! How soon is he going to kill me, then?? And the Guanyin pendant exists on a scale—shit, fuck, dammit to hell—when I do I know when to use it…?

[Would Host like to use Item: Fake Jade Guanyin?]

It’s better to have it at the moment he needs it, right? Best to be able to pull it out then and there. He’ll have to be sure not to lose it, but if the System crashes again for whatever reason, he wants his safety net on his person, dammit. 

Give it to me, Shen Qingqiu says decisively. 

[Loading Item: Fake Jade Guanyin. Download: 1%. Time remaining: 26 minutes.]

You absolute motherfucker! Shen Qingqiu thinks. What if he’d needed that in an emergency?! This update has, so far, done absolutely nothing to convince Shen Qingqiu that they’ve added anything to his user experience. 0 stars, do not recommend! 

The System flashes a disappointed [( ಡ ‸ ಡ )] at him. 

The fake jade Guanyin pendant finally drops into his hand a full three quarters of a shichen later. So much for the System’s projected time estimate. He spends his time waiting reorganizing the vanity, determinedly ignoring the value of all these items in favor of single-mindedly moving what he’s most likely to use to places more readily accessible.

Once he has it, Shen Qingqiu loops the Guanyin pendant around his neck, tucking it safely away beneath the high collar and layers of his robes. It’s cold against his chest, but it will warm quickly enough. 

Shen Qingqiu has his safety net. 

Luo Binghe doesn’t join Shen Qingqiu for dinner that night. A meal is left for him on the table where he and Luo Binghe ate together previously, though he has no idea how. He would have heard Luo Binghe come in, wouldn’t he? Ah, well. Probably Xin Mo. Either that, or Luo Binghe is far quieter than Shen Qingqiu would have assumed.

The thought vaguely discomfits him.

Shen Qingqiu picks at his food. He can’t lie and say he isn’t glad that Luo Binghe isn’t there to stare at him over his food, but…

Oh, but nothing! Luo Binghe will come back to haunt him soon enough. With those Anger Points, there’s no way that he won’t.

At the thought, Shen Qingqiu lays down his chopsticks, any hunger abruptly gone. He reaches up, pressing a hand against the faint lump of the pendant beneath his robes.

Luo Binghe broke himself free of the Abyss years earlier than he was supposed to, apparently in order to come after Shen Qingqiu.

All Shen Qingqiu has to do is wait. He’s had plenty of practice.

The waiting goes on longer than Shen Qingqiu expected. Maybe Luo Binghe hadn’t been lying about being busy. Certainly he’s spent the past several days glaringly absent from Shen Qingqiu’s prison.

It makes sense. Luo Binghe may have upended the timeline, he may have managed to overtake the Underground Palace already—but there remains the rest of the Demon Realm to conquer. In the web-novel, he carved out a portion of the Northern Kingdom from which to launch his offensive, gathering several smaller territories together under his banner before he moved to Huan Hua Palace. From there, Huan Hua was the main base of his conquering—and it hosted most of his harem when in the Human Realm.

The Underground Palace, Luo Binghe discovered fairly early on, sealed away so that only a Heavenly Demon could access it. He hadn’t used it, though, far more concerned with consolidating enough power to go back to the Human Realm and have his revenge against Shen Qingqiu.

This time, he must have recognized the Underground Palace’s usefulness, shifting his priorities accordingly. It’s a perfect prison. One where he can keep Shen Qingqiu as long as he wants, without having to go through the trial, without having to ingratiate himself to Huan Hua.

His Binghe has always been so good at getting what he wants.

When it comes to the Demon Realm, he has to put plenty of effort into taking control of it, his bloodline helpful but not enough for complete control in and of itself. He’s already made progress, given that demons address him as a lord—but there’s still more work for him to do. He understands Luo Binghe’s absence.

Still, he can’t help but find Luo Binghe’s absence…alarming. He has everything that he could need here; food is delivered on time to him every day, through methods Shen Qingqiu has yet to determine.

…Not all of it is Luo Binghe’s, he’s disappointed to note.

Which is silly! That he’s being fed at all is cause for gratitude; he shouldn’t be bemoaning the fact that he isn’t being pampered. Luo Binghe does not want to pamper him (despite all evidence to the contrary). Shen Qingqiu could rely on inedia, yes, but the fact that Luo Binghe continually provides him food proves that, at the very least, he’s keeping Shen Qingqiu and his needs in his thoughts.

Which…isn’t necessarily a good thing, come to think of it.

No servants enter his quarters. Food and drink are the only necessities that come from the outside; the baths are, thankfully, self-cleaning and constantly full, given how they were made and fed by hot springs somewhere deep beneath the Underground Palace.

Shen Qingqiu waits several days before he makes use of the baths, choosing instead to get by wiping himself down with water from a basin that he fills from the baths. Finally, though, he can no longer put it off. He needs to wash his hair, and the sight of the baths grows more tempting each day that he refuses to enter them.

When he finally caves, he spends a long moment considering the logistics of it.

He had not, in fact, managed to find any talisman paper to use. He knows a few locking charms, which should work well enough no matter what substance they’ve been written in, so long as that substance has been charged with enough qi beforehand. The obvious solution is blood.

It’s only…he still isn’t sure how Luo Binghe will react if Shen Qingqiu, rather than indulging in passive cultivation like meditating, begins to actively cultivate. Especially if it’s in a way specifically designed to keep him away. Shen Qingqiu hasn’t been fitted with Immortal Binding Cables or any other restriction to his cultivation, and Luo Binghe is nowhere nearby to notice that he is using such methods, but he worries nonetheless.

Is Luo Binghe giving Shen Qingqiu enough rope to hang himself with?

In the end, Shen Qingqiu drags over the chest that was at the foot of his bed, positioning it in front of the door. It won’t stop anyone coming in, not really, but it will give Shen Qingqiu a warning that his privacy is being intruded upon. It will grant time for him to get himself out of the bath and either wrapped in a towel or partially clothed.

Still, he takes Xiu Ya with him as he steps through the door, disrobes, and sinks down into the blissfully hot pool, settling himself comfortably on one of the narrow benches that lines the edge of it. The tension filling him doesn’t disappear, but it eases somewhat as the heat of the bath sinks into his muscles. These baths are so luxurious, like everything else in these quarters, which is really—

Shen Qingqiu leans down and dunks his head under the water to keep from chasing his thoughts in a circle about all that again.

Despite his precautions, no one attempts to break into his bedroom while he's bathing. He doesn't spend near as much time in the baths as he would were he securely in his own home, but it's not an insignificant amount of time that he spends there, either. 

Eventually, he gets out. He changes into another pair of sleeping robes that Luo Binghe has provided for him, and he goes to bed. 

The next morning, Luo Binghe still hasn't returned.

Chapter Text

So infuriating.

Luo Binghe allows Xin Mo’s portal to seal, cutting off his view of the crybaby imposter and the false (kind) Shizun. He stands in his chambers, which are near precisely as he left them. Near precisely: there’s evidence that someone else has been here, rifling through his belongings. The imposter, of course.

Blood drips down from his cheek, only a few drops now from wounds already sealed. He never knew Plucked Leaves, Flying Flowers could be used in such an innovative way. His broken arm and leg itch and ache as they knit back together; his ribs shift and resettle in their proper place after having been damaged by the imposter’s final attack.

The rims of his eyes continue to prick with unfamiliar heat. He blinks. Blinks again. Xin Mo drops from his hand, clattering down onto the floor.

What did the imposter do to deserve that Shen Qingqiu?

Why wouldn’t that Shen Qingqiu come with Luo Binghe?

It isn’t fair.

He shakes his head furiously. The braid Shen Qingqiu threaded into his hair, tying off with a Qing Jing green ribbon and a stupid bow, whips with the movement, drawing his eye.

Those gentle whispers, that boundless doting and indulgence—!

Luo Binghe drops to the stone floor of his rooms, alone save for Xin Mo, and has his worst deviation in at least a century.

It’s Ning Yingying who finds and saves him, put on alert by the strange way ‘he’ was acting in the days previous. She calls the physicians, passing qi to stabilize him until they arrive, and tends to him afterward. Of course she does. She’s his first wife for a reason.

(She was always his closest friend.)

Strangely, Xin Mo doesn’t seek to take advantage of his weakness. Luo Binghe would love to blame his deviation on the blade—but the damnable thing is sated for once. Luo Binghe is the master of his sword—the master of himself—yet Xin Mo has ever sought to slip its leash and wrest control from him.

Xin Mo’s current lassitude is different from the silence imposed by the sealing talismans Luo Binghe removed. No, it feels far more like it’s recently eaten a large meal.

Luo Binghe eyes it suspiciously. He didn’t get anywhere near that far with Shen Qingqiu.

“A-Luo,” Ning Yingying calls, noticing his distraction. She’s never quite given up calling him that.

“Leave me,” Luo Binghe says curtly.

Ning Yingying sighs, but stands from the chair where she was sitting vigil at Luo Binghe’s bedside. She takes a moment to rearrange several items on his bedside table—a pitcher full of water and a cup to accompany it, a talisman should he wish (need) to call for her again, a tonic prescribed by his physician to bolster his disrupted qi—then departs.

Luo Binghe continues glaring at Xin Mo. He swipes the tonic from its resting place, uncorking it with a savage bite and then draining it, before reaching out to remove Xin Mo from the sword stand where it rests. He settles it across his lap, examining it with eye and touch and qi alike.

When he prods at Xin Mo, he feels the contentment of it. Beneath that, he feels—something else. A hint of other. Normally, Xin Mo’s portals don’t feel like anything at all; stepping (falling) through the portal between worlds—realities—whatever he wants to call it—felt like this morsel Xin Mo is currently digesting. Said digestion is taking significantly longer than any of the sex or violence Luo Binghe has fed it before.

“You’d best not be consuming that world,” Luo Binghe tells it sourly. He has plans for it (for the kind Shizun) once he has recovered his strength. Opening the portal between realties didn’t seem to take any more than his normal strength, but while Xin Mo may be ready to make another journey, Luo Binghe is forced to wait.

Xin Mo purrs at him, viciously gleeful and contented.

Luo Binghe shoves it back into its sheath, then back into the sword stand. He lies down, resentfully recovering, and turns over the beginnings of a plan in his mind.

He doesn’t entirely know what he’ll do, when he arrives once more in that other world. Take his revenge? Spy on the kind Shizun and the imposter, in an attempt to understand? Steal the kind Shizun away, since he won’t come by his own choice? Some mix of the above options, or another that he’s not yet considered?

Luo Binghe has always been good at thinking on his feet. He knows better than to underestimate either of those two, now. Whatever his choice, he will make it work.

As it turns out, he doesn’t even get a chance to try.

He concentrates on his memories of that world, the kind Shizun and the imposter and the strange energy of the portal, and slashes Xin Mo through the air. He intends to slip sideways through the cracks in reality he utilized previously.

Instead, he runs immediately up against an impenetrable barrier.

A barrier that keeps Luo Binghe out.

The portal doesn’t even manage to open completely. A seam hangs in the air in front of Luo Binghe, taunting him, saying that if he only had enough strength, enough will, enough bloody-minded determination, he might be able to pry it open.

Luo Binghe tries. He floods Xin Mo with qi, trying to force the portal apart. It doesn’t budge so much as a cun, all his marshaled qi passing over it, as effective as Jingwei trying to fill the ocean.

He accomplishes nothing.

He abandons this first attempt, allowing the paltry seam of the would-be portal to seal so that he can try again. He carves a second portal parallel to the first—and it doesn’t allow him to pass any more than the first did.

No barrier, no talismans or wards, no spiritual or demonic or heavenly qi, no part of this world, has ever kept Xin Mo out. Its abilities are overwhelming, impossible to defend against; even sealing Xin Mo with talismans as the kind Shizun did was a stop-gap solution, one that would have needed to be repeated over and over again. Even then, it only worked as well as it did because Xin Mo was right there already for Shizun to access.

No one and nothing should be able to keep Luo Binghe and Xin Mo out.

Why, then, can they?!

Luo Binghe throws himself at that barrier over and over again. Xin Mo screams through the air, gleeful even in the face of Luo Binghe’s growing rage.

The imposter can’t keep Luo Binghe out! He doesn’t have Xin Mo as Luo Binghe does! Luo Binghe saw what remained of the blade—it was mere shards! Even if the imposter reforged the blade, it would always be weak! The imposter was weak! Soft and pathetic and stupid, a crybaby coddled by his shizun, one who would never reaches the height or power or acknowledgement that Luo Binghe has claimed for himself! He can’t keep Luo Binghe out—he won’t let the imposter keep him out!

There has to be a flaw in the barrier.

There has to be, there has to be, there’s no way those two managed to lock him out—

The flaw, in the end, is Luo Binghe’s.

When he wakes from his second qi deviation, this time without Ning Yingying’s assistance, he’s forced to reassess. He must remain in control. He needs to be methodical. To date, he hasn’t been.

Nothing should be able to keep out Xin Mo. Nothing should be able to beat Luo Binghe, either, yet he and the imposter were well-matched. Like against like, neither of them could win, even when Luo Binghe was clearly the superior opponent.

(Why did the kind Shizun refuse to choose him?)

Those two must have used Xin Mo, sharded as it was, to build the barrier between their worlds. There’s nothing else that makes sense.

Xin Mo versus Xin Mo—it’s understandable that he wouldn’t be able to overcome it. Not with brute force, at least. Maybe the barrier will weaken over time, whether because the other Xin Mo’s broken form loses its energy or because Luo Binghe manages to overwhelm it with continued, concentrated efforts, like water wearing away stone. In the mean time…

Just because he can’t break through doesn’t mean he can’t go around.

Luo Binghe doesn’t give up on hammering at the barrier between worlds. He does his best to visualize the barrier as a solid structure, aiming at the same “spot” each time he attempts to intrude. He spends nearly as much time mapping out the edges of the barrier. Mapping out the edges of his world.

He never paid much attention to this before. He never realized there was anything that needed paying attention to. The Three Realms—even the Endless Abyss—were fluid, laid atop each other. Combining them was an extreme effort, though not impossible. Xin Mo brought down the walls between them, melding everything into one whole.

Even in the midst of that ritual, Luo Binghe had not thought to look beyond. Foolish in hindsight—there’s obviously more out there.

Luo Binghe is careful and intent as he maps the edges of his world, reaching out with his and Xin Mo’s combined energies. It’s a delicate balance, and a clumsy one at first, reminding him of nothing so much as his first groping attempts at reaching for the dreams of others.

He is a master of the Dream Realm now, just as much as he is Emperor of the Combined Realms.

Luo Binghe will manage this, too.

There is a distinction between creating portals inside his own world and reaching beyond it toward other worlds. Even when the Three Realms were separate, to move between them didn’t feel the same as it does when moving between worlds. It’s not the barrier that throws him off, as frustrating as it is—no, instead it’s the emptiness.

Every time, just after he reaches beyond his world but before he hits the barrier guarding the kind Shizun’s, there is a half-heartbeat spent in the void that keeps the worlds separate.

The first time he attempts to examine it, remaining holding his energies within the void rather than immediately traversing it, he loses his hold on the portal and ends up vomiting helplessly onto the floor. The next time, he bolsters himself with Xin Mo’s energy—which, he notes, is integrating its new power a bit too well. Xin Mo takes distinct enjoyment in nibbling at the void; each time Luo Binghe attempts to cross between worlds, he finds that Xin Mo retains all its energy levels—rather than using them up by doing this, Luo Binghe instead seems to be feeding his sword.

The only one whose energy ends up exhausted by these attempts is Luo Binghe’s own.

In a way, it’s worrying. Xin Mo gaining more power this way makes it dangerous, may someday make it uncontrollable—but for now, it means Luo Binghe doesn’t have to worry about feeding it in other ways.

Sex and violence have long been staples of Luo Binghe’s life. Feeding Xin Mo has been a constant struggle—admittedly not one that he was necessarily opposed to, except in the amount Xin Mo demanded of him. Yet in this endeavor he finds himself uninterested in fulfilling Xin Mo’s needs with any of his wives.

He should. He’s kept himself sequestered while he attempts to get back to that world. Ning Yingying is the only visitor that he’s had, likely because he sealed himself into his chambers to prevent interruptions. This is delicate work; he can’t afford distractions, nor does he want them.

He wouldn’t even know how to begin to explain.

The void between worlds, even when he wraps himself in Xin Mo’s energies, is not a place he is capable of remaining for more than a few heartbeats. It’s almost like the Endless Abyss, except for all the ways that it isn’t. The Abyss was a ragged tear between Realms, a whirlpool of frothing energies and damaged portions of reality, filled with unfathomable, distorted, monstrous beasts and whatever poor souls tumbled down into it.

The void, on the other hand, seems to be a natural delineation between Luo Binghe’s and the kind Shizun’s distinct worlds. It doesn’t seem to cause the same twisting of creatures that the Endless Abyss, with its eldritch energies, did.

Then again, there’s no guarantee that there is any sort of life within the void. Xin Mo contents itself eating energy from it, but for all Luo Binghe knows, the void is completely inimical to life as Luo Binghe understands it. Certainly he wouldn’t be able to survive there for long, going by all his experiments thus far; nigh unkillable though Heavenly Demons are, Luo Binghe can barely stand being even adjacent to the void for a few heartbeats without being sick. He isn’t particularly interested in testing further than that. He has a goal he’s attempting to accomplish here and doesn’t wish to tempt fate, not until and unless he has no other choice.

Still, he keeps it in the back of his mind. If he could enter the in-between completely, if Xin Mo could glut itself entirely rather than snatching what it can during Luo Binghe’s continuous failed attempts—would he then be able to bring down the barrier separating him from the kind Shizun?

It’s a last resort, as it would likely lead to his own death in the process.

Besides, he is making progress.

Every time he reaches out to the kind Shizun’s world, he’s a bit faster at it. He’s a little more practiced at holding onto Xin Mo’s energies. He’s better at pulling back before he hits the barrier, instead ghosting along the edges of it, searching for cracks or flaws rather than having his energy thrown back at him for the umpteenth time.

Luo Binghe grows ever more precise until, one day, nearly a month after he began this quest, he finally succeeds. He circles around the barrier, further than he’s ever gone before—and he feels the energies between worlds give way to Xin Mo’s demands.

A portal finally opens before him.

Luo Binghe leaps through without a second thought.

The portal closes behind him with a snap. That’s fine. Barriers intended to keep others out are often weak from the inside, so it should be no trouble returning. Besides, this spot is obviously a weakness in the barrier, which makes it even easier.

Luo Binghe isn’t on Qing Jing Peak, which is the first thing that he notices. He’d halfway expected that. When he originally broke through to this world, it was in the Underground Palace, and then he left from Qing Jing. Those two places would be the obvious ones for the imposter and the kind Shizun to reinforce most thoroughly.

Still, he isn’t particularly pleased to find himself in the Endless Abyss.

Luo Binghe escaped the place after Shen Qingqiu threw him down into it, though it took long years of effort. More years than the crybaby imposter, according to his perusal of the kind Shizun’s memories. Luo Binghe never returned to the Endless Abyss after that. He never wanted to. That hell made him the man he is, but that’s all it is: hell.

Every action Luo Binghe has taken since then has set himself up so that he would never have to suffer like that again.

His gaze sweeps over the awful landscape. He’s currently at the top of a ravine, overlooking much of the Abyss, in all its disgusting, warped glory. Overlooking—

Ah. Of course.

This is near where he originally found Xin Mo, isn’t it?

That…makes a certain kind of sense. Sharded though the imposter’s blade may be, Xin Mo calls to itself. That’s why the original displacement occurred. While the majority of Xin Mo’s shards must have been used to create the barrier keeping Luo Binghe out, this place inside the Endless Abyss held Xin Mo for centuries, perhaps entire millennia untold.

Another factor is that the Endless Abyss was—and here, still is—a crack between all the Realms. It is a fault line at the center of each world in which it resides. If there was any place weak enough to allow Luo Binghe to break his way through, it would be here, wouldn’t it?

He draws Xin Mo, cutting a portal through the realms to send him where he truly wants to go. The hardest part—making it to this world—has already been done, so this new portal opens with the same kind of ease Luo Binghe is used to.

Just after stepping through, as the portal begins to close, Luo Binghe glances over his shoulder, some sixth sense calling to him. He sees movement on the other side of the ravine.

For one heartbeat, he would swear he sees himself.

The portal snaps closed.

Luo Binghe is safely in the Human Realm. He aimed for a dense forest he’s hunted and camped in before. It’s midway between Huan Hua Palace and Cang Qiong, if a bit closer to the former than the latter. Huan Hua is generally quite useless; it’s easier to hide in their lands than Cang Qiong’s.

He wasn’t fool enough to appear inside the Palace itself, nor even that close to the sect. The imposter rules over Huan Hua and Luo Binghe doesn’t intend to tip his hand. For similar reasons, he didn’t send himself straight to Qing Jing. He needs time to prepare. He needs to make sure the imposter is kept safely out of the way, so that he can grab Shen Qingqiu and finally be given what he’s owed.

But…

That glimpse in the Abyss.

Was that truly the imposter? What was he doing back in the Abyss? Xin Mo is the only item of worth in that section of the Abyss; if the imposter was searching for another object to focus the barrier he and Shen Qingqiu made to keep Luo Binghe out, it’s a futile effort. They already used the strongest one possible.

Luo Binghe rubs a hand over his face, unsettled. His unease isn’t helped by the way the stink of the Abyss clings to him, a visceral reminder of all he endured there for five long years. Two hundred years isn’t long enough to forget it. Not for him.

Yet the fact that it does affect him so strongly makes him doubt whether he truly saw the imposter. Being back there in the Abyss—well, the Abyss enjoys playing tricks on the mind. He can’t be sure that this wasn’t one of those, the Abyss grabbing at him to make the most of his brief stop there.

It doesn’t matter. If his mind is playing tricks on him, then Luo Binghe has nothing to worry about. If it was the imposter, then Luo Binghe is confident that he wasn’t spotted in turn. He can do his reconnaissance as planned. Along the way, he may even find the answer to this question.

Decided, Luo Binghe heads off to find a place to camp—and, more importantly, sleep. His range is wide, but proximity does ease how much energy he need expend. He’s close enough to Huan Hua that it shouldn’t take much effort to reach into the dreams of those living there.

They will tell him everything he needs to know.

Luo Binghe wakes with a furious growl.

It can’t be!

He breaks camp, slicing open a portal to the outskirts of Cang Qiong. He doesn’t bother making a new camp, simply propping himself up against the first out-of-the-way tree he finds. The rage in him is too strong to fall asleep on his own, so he has to use his dream powers to pull himself down.

The dreams of Cang Qiong’s cultivators tell him the same thing that he learned from Huan Hua’s:

This is not the world Luo Binghe was searching for.

This is a world that mirrors his own world for more clearly than the imposter’s ever did. Shen Qingqiu is the same bastard that Luo Binghe grew up with. Here, he isn’t the kind Shizun. Liu Qingge is nearly a decade dead. Qing Jing’s disciple Luo Binghe disappeared—died, it’s assumed—at the Immortal Alliance Conference a little over four years ago.

Gods all damn it.

It was himself that he saw in the Abyss. Not the imposter from the kind Shizun’s world, no. It was this world’s version of Luo Binghe.

Luo Binghe was wrong. The barrier around the kind Shizun’s world didn’t let him through at all. He slid around and off of it, tumbling his way into another world entirely. He thought himself so clever, so powerful, for overcoming the barrier when he did no such thing.

Luo Binghe portals himself to the Demon Realm before he does anything ill-advised, like raze Cang Qiong to the ground and rend Shen Qingqiu limb from limb for a second time. He refrains, not because he has fellow-feelings for his counterpart in this world and wishes to grant him his well-earned revenge, but because it simply wouldn’t be satisfying.

The Shen Qingqiu of this world may be the same small, cruel, petty man that he was in Luo Binghe’s world, but he isn’t the man who abused him. Luo Binghe has long since repaid all debts between them. Killing this version of him would only be repeating the same tired work he’s already accomplished, and—and—

And Luo Binghe still remembers the look on the kind Shizun’s face, when Luo Binghe encountered him in that strange dream.

He remembers the way the kind Shizun screamed.

The kind Shizun would likely have rejected him anyway, for the crime of not being the correct Luo Binghe, but unknowingly harming him when Luo Binghe mistook him for his scum teacher undoubtedly hindered his cause even further.

No matter. Luo Binghe won’t give the kind Shizun a second chance to reject him next time. He’ll steal him away and it will be the imposter’s turn to be locked out of a world with the kind Shizun.

First, though, he has to find the correct world.

Panting, Luo Binghe surveys what he’s done, coming down from his high of rage and destruction. There is a wide swath of forest cut down around him, some of it smoldering faintly from the fiery edge Xin Mo sometimes lends his qi—and, he notes, from the cheerfully burning Skulking Fireweed that was previously hidden among the undergrowth.

Ah, he must be in the Southeast part of the Demon Realm. Even after the merging of the Three Realms, that’s the only place Skulking Fireweed grows. The forest must be due for a natural burning soon if so many Skulking Fireweeds were nearing their blooming. Luo Binghe simply helped nature along.

He won’t put out the fire. He doesn’t want to waste his time. Also, several decades ago one of his not-yet-wives gave him a rather impassioned lecture about biodiversity, these forests, and Skulking Fireweed specifically.

There’s nothing here for him. Not in this forest, not at Cang Qiong, not anywhere in this world.

Xin Mo slices between worlds. It’s so simple to do, compared to trying to break the barrier. Luo Binghe steps through, back to his own world.

He’ll reassess and try again.

He does try again. Again, and again, and again—and he keeps landing in the wrong worlds.

On one level, it’s interesting: the vast expanse of worlds stretching out before him; the fact that there are so many iterations on familiar (and occasionally unfamiliar) faces; the wide range of times and environments that he lands in.

Luo Binghe could never have guessed there was such an immense spread of existence. He combined the Three Realms and thought himself powerful, thought himself above everything and everyone else. It is only now, as he walks between worlds, that he truly understands how small he is.

He keeps searching through the worlds. That’s another level to this farce: no matter what he does, he can’t make his way back to the kind Shizun.

So very many worlds are so similar to his. They echo his own past so precisely. He sees variations here and there—different disciples on Qing Jing, or his counterpart gone to a different peak, or the like—but none of them are what he’s looking for. None of them are the man nor the world he’s seeking.

At this point, he’ll take anything. Any other world with the kind Shizun in it would suffice. He messed up last time, he can acknowledge that, but Luo Binghe hasn’t made it as far as he had without being able to learn from his mistakes. So long as he has access to the kind Shizun—so long as he can find him—

Where is he?!

All these worlds, and none of them hold that version of Shen Qingqiu?

It’s so bitterly, damnably unfair. Just as unfair as the imposter ever having a kind Shizun in the first place. Why should he be the only one to get him?!

Luo Binghe refuses to give up. He’ll break the barrier between worlds eventually, or he’ll find another version of the kind Shizun, or he’ll die trying.

It’s that simple.

Of course, not all of Luo Binghe’s time can be spent searching worlds for the kind Shizun. Xin Mo seems content glutting itself on the energy between worlds, an unlooked for blessing. As his quest continues, Luo Binghe finds that he still has none of the patience required to deal with harem politics and deciding whose bed to favor.

In point of fact, he doesn’t have much patience with the harem in general.

For all that he derided the crybaby imposter for lacking a single woman, much less the multitude that Luo Binghe has, he’ll admit that he’s…come to understand. One day with the kind Shizun consumed him, filled him with an obsession that outmatches any he’s felt for his wives.

He needs the kind Shizun. He craves him like he’s never craved anyone or anything before. Ning Yingying is perhaps the closest who has ever come to filling him with the kindness that the kind Shizun offered so easily and effortlessly, but it isn’t the same. As for sex—

Luo Binghe has had a lot of sex over the course of his life. He’s had little cause to regret it. Most of it, anyway. Due to Xin Mo, after a certain point it became a necessity to him, though he’d always found ways to enjoy it. He welcomed the women with whom he had relations into his harem, safely sheltered under his protection.

Yet he finds himself thinking about that kiss he shared with the kind Shizun frequently. He imagines how it might have gone, had the imposter not returned; he imagines what it will be like, once the kind Shizun is safely in his universe, finally Luo Binghe’s instead of the imposter’s.

He spends a lot of time considering what Shizun’s role will be. How he will seduce Shizun. How he’ll get Shizun into his bed. How he’ll tie Shizun to him through marriage so that they’ll never be separated again.

Shizun won’t be one of his many wives, easily lost amongst the rest of the harem. He will be honored among them all. He will be Empress, if Luo Binghe has his way.

What Luo Binghe wants, he usually gets.

His search continues. On those occasion that he’s in his home world, Luo Binghe sets out preparing the way for Shizun. Shizun needn’t ever involve himself in harem politics. In point of fact, Luo Binghe begins steadily dissolving the harem. In truth, it’s a matter of Shizun’s future safety as much as it is Luo Binghe wishing to be done with all of the annoying politics of it, the demands on his attention, when he wishes to give all of his attention to Shizun.

It’s an exhaustive task—he makes sure all of his former wives will be well cared for once they leave the harem, whatever that means to them: a dowry or stipend, safe transportation to their new homes, or jobs and appointments in his empire. Not all of his wives take it gracefully (the Little Palace Mistress is especially displeased), but a surprising number of them do. Some few of them even seem pleased by it.

Luo Binghe also purposefully, determinedly makes time to sit down with one of the other most relevant dangers to Shizun’s new life here: Liu Mingyan.

She is one of the very few people he tells the whole story to. Obviously all his wives have noticed his extended absences, and he knows that rumors and gossip about the dissolving of the harem are flying fast and thick, but he doesn’t need to explain himself to them. He doesn’t need to explain his reasoning to them—not the way he does need to explain himself to Liu Mingyan. She bears as much of a grudge against Shen Qingqiu as he did.

The kind Shizun didn’t kill her brother, though. Judging by the quick skim Luo Binghe had of his memories, he saved Liu Qingge.

Luo Binghe lays this all out to her, along with his steadily crystalizing intentions toward Shizun. Liu Mingyan, he’s fairly sure, will use the Underground Palace as a base while she continues her usual cultivation work. The dissolution of the harem won’t be much of a departure from her norm; the two of them have never had a sexual relationship. Revenge brought them together and then afterwards Liu Mingyan had nowhere else to go.

He understands her completely, has often valued her insight and steadfast company. However, he doesn’t want Shizun to be threatened by her in what will be his new home.

Liu Mingyan listens to the entire story in silence, her expression as inscrutable as ever while it’s hidden behind her veil.

When Luo Binghe finishes, all she says is, “I understand.” Then she gets up and sweeps out of the room. Beelining to Ning Yingying, if Luo Binghe is any judge. Good—that will save him the effort of telling her himself.

Shizun may dote on you, but you must always respect seniority, the other Ning Yingying told him. That way we dishonor neither our status as Qing Jing’s disciples nor Shizun’s teachings.

Hm. Luo Binghe will follow up with Ning Yingying later. Once she’s gotten over her first reaction.

In between all that, Luo Binghe commissions finery for Shizun: clothes and jewelry, obviously, but also all that is required to fill the bedchambers of an empress, specifically one who is a scholar, a musician, and a voracious reader. He selects the softest and most comfortable of fabrics, aiming for the kind of sinking plushness of mattress and pillows that the kind Shizun’s bed held; he picks colors and decorations for the bed, rugs, divans, and wall hangings based on a blend of his own and Shizun’s favored colors (leaning more toward his own, of course); he chooses hair oil and bath supplies based on the quick glimpse he had of the kind Shizun’s vanity, adding in a wide variety of other scents and accoutrements for Shizun to indulge himself; he buys the finest paints, brushes, inks, instruments, expertly crafted xiangqi and weiqi boards, all so that Shizun can have the best available when he wishes to show his prowess with the Four Arts that he is known for as Peak Lord.

Everything grows ready for Shizun.

All Luo Binghe has to do is find him.

He travels through world after world after world after world—

—until the day he’s finally victorious.

Luo Binghe has long since lost track of the number of worlds he’s visited. He has long since perfected the art of searching out the kind Shizun. The first step, no matter which world he lands in, is to make his way toward Cang Qiong. Like in that first world-without-a-kind-Shizun, he settles himself safely outside the wards where he won’t be detected.

It’s trivially easy to break into the mountain, and only mildly more of an effort to do it without anyone realizing he’s there, but there’s no point going to the effort of it until he has a basic understanding of this world and where his target is—or isn’t, as is usually the case. He needs a baseline, to establish where he is in the timeline. He’s landed in other times on occasion; even that time he met the kind Shizun was, to Luo Binghe, his own past! The crybaby was a mere twenty-five to Luo Binghe’s two-and-more centuries.

There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason as to when Luo Binghe arrives. On occasion he arrives before his counterpart has joined the sect, or before the Qing generation took over, or before Luo Binghe was ever born, or while his counterpart is a disciple, or a decade after the Immortal Alliance Conference, or—

Countless possibilities, none of them with the man he seeks.

So, per usual, Luo Binghe drifts to sleep outside the wards. He casts his mind out, searching for familiar dreams, searching for the Shizun that by all rights belongs to him—

—and at long last, he finds that his patience has been rewarded.

Liu Qingge is still alive. That’s one of the largest clues. At least half the worlds Luo Binghe lands in feature a dead War God, the same as his own world, but in the kind Shizun’s, he was alive. Liu Qingge’s continued presence isn’t a guarantee—none of those previous worlds held a kind Shizun even when they did contain a living Liu Qingge—but it always sends a curl of hope through Luo Binghe’s chest.

Luo Binghe jumps from dream to dream. He scrapes together information from various disciples and hallmasters throughout the sect, different perspectives and thoughts and memories so that he can build a whole picture. His excitement mounts with each new piece he grabs.

Liu Qingge is alive. Shen Qingqiu took a (poisoned) hit in place of his disciple during Sha Hualing’s invasion. The Immortal Alliance Conference was invaded by demons, and Luo Binghe lost, and Shen Qingqiu mourns him still, two years hence—

Luo Binghe emerges from the Dream Realm and sits upright.

He’s found another kind Shizun.

He barely contains himself, hand already wrapped around Xin Mo’s hilt before he manages to stop himself from slicing his way directly through the space between himself and Shen Qingqiu.

No, no, Luo Binghe can’t rush this. He has the bare bones of the situation, but he needs all the information he can get his hands on, the same as when he found himself in the original kind Shizun’s world. The information he’s already gathered tells him that he has the time for it: not even two and half years have passed since the Immortal Alliance Conference. By his understanding, the imposter, if he’s even out of the Abyss yet, is currently busy ingratiating himself to Huan Hua Palace.

There will be no interruptions from that stupid brat this time.

Luo Binghe went through the kind Shizun’s memories, but he did that over the course of a single night. It was years of memories to make his way through. He knows he missed details, working more to gain an overview of the kind Shizun’s life than to have an in-depth understanding. Even so, that overview was enough to have him seething in jealousy—and, eventually, to send him here.

What did that crybaby imposter do to deserve his kind Shizun? Why was it him who was treated so gently, reared with a lax, indulgent hand? Why—why—?!

Luo Binghe will search more thoroughly for such answers this time. He won’t make the same mistakes again.

…He won’t let this Shizun realize Luo Binghe isn’t the child he raised. Not until it’s too late for Shizun to take it back.

If Luo Binghe were truly dedicated to that, he would go and kill this world’s version of him before he could interfere. Luo Binghe is magnanimous. He’ll allow this fool one kindness, for having built the foundation of Luo Binghe’s marriage to his future empress: he’ll allow this stupid imposter child to live.

Luo Binghe will be bringing Shizun back to his own world. He doesn’t plan on leaving any traces of his passage, and he doesn’t expect the imposter child to figure out what has occurred: Luo Binghe himself never dreamed of such possibilities before sheer happenstance threw him into the kind Shizun’s world. The imposter child gets to keep his life and memories, and he should be content with that.

(The imposter child won’t be, of course. He’s still Luo Binghe, if a vastly inferior version.)

Luo Binghe stands and stretches. It’s about time to begin teasing apart the wards so that he may come and go as he pleases. He doesn’t particularly plan on leaving Qing Jing once he arrives, but it’s always best to be prepared. He’s come too far to fail now.

Shizun, he thinks, just wait a little longer. I’m here now.

It’s definitely another kind Shizun living in the bamboo house. Luo Binghe didn’t have any doubts about it, but now, having touched his mind, he’s confirmed it. He recalls the feeling of it with intense clarity.

Specifically the way that Shen Qingqiu’s memory is damaged.

There are entire swathes of it that Luo Binghe can sense even as he’s unable to access them, memories that are strangely locked away from even a dream master like him. Other memories are present, but buried so deeply that to unearth them would immediately alert Shen Qingqiu someone is digging around inside his mind. Both of those sections of Shizun’s memories are ones Luo Binghe will have to handle once he’s safely sequestered Shizun away in the Demon Realm.

For now, he focuses on what he is able to see, specifically the portions that are immediately applicable to him: the memories of the years after Shen Qingqiu’s apparently personality shifting qi deviation, and the years he and the imposter child lived together in the bamboo house.

He starts from the beginning, right after Shizun wakes from his qi deviation. Distantly, he wonders if the deviation is what locked away those parts of Shizun’s memories—but, again, that’s a matter to be handled later, and handled delicately.

Shen Qingqiu never had a qi deviation when Luo Binghe was fourteen. Or rather, if he had, Luo Binghe never knew it occurred. It certainly didn’t have the effect that it did here, transforming Shen Qingqiu so utterly. Luo Binghe knew the rumors, confirmed them with his investigations before Shen Qingqiu’s trial, and confirmed them further with each new world that he visited: his former master always had difficulties with his cultivation.

Here and now, that matters to Luo Binghe only inasmuch as he is thankful that the qi deviation changed Shizun, and as a point of awareness going forward in his interactions with Shizun—especially as he’s been poisoned by Without-A-Cure. Inside the Dream Realm, the qi deviation is a hard line. It’s the point past which he cannot go without detectably disturbing Shizun’s mind.

Most of the emotions bleeding through that memory of Shizun’s awakening are of confusion…or fear. Mild notes of anger, too, yet Luo Binghe can’t get a read on Shizun’s thoughts. Probing at the memory, it feels…

Luo Binghe frowns.

It feels strange. Given how strong Shizun’s emotions are, he would expect to get some sense for the thoughts attached to them—and idea of what caused such deep emotion—but he can’t. In the same way that parts of Shizun’s memories are off-limits to Luo Binghe’s power, so too are his thoughts. At least in this specific memory.

It’s not necessarily uncommon for thoughts to disappear from a memory, especially if Luo Binghe is only viewing them rather than searching for information. If he were trying to get all the details, if he truly recreated the memory inside the dreamer’s mind and had his target inhabit their dream avatar—then, yes, he would certainly get the thoughts. However, the memory would have to be significant in some way, too: usually emotional, occasionally traumatic.

Is this memory simply not emotional enough to tag with Shizun’s thoughts? Or…?

Hm. Luo Binghe will consider that thought more.

He moves on from that memory. He begins going through the memories stretching out past that point, combing through them in order to make sure he knows all the details, building an understanding of how Shizun and the imposter child interacted around each other.

Of course, he doesn’t only examine Shizun in his dreams.

Cang Qiong is so complacent. They believe so wholly in their wards. Luo Binghe made his way into the sect, and after that, there were no other alerts for him to trip. It’s laughably easy for him to disguise his presence on Qing Jing. Equally easy is his ability to trail behind Shizun.

Though that’s made easier by the way Shizun never seems to go anywhere.

He spends his days on Qing Jing. More than that, he spends his days—and occasionally parts of his nights—kneeling in a clearing at the end of a trail behind the bamboo house.

This, too, is something Luo Binghe was peripherally aware of before now. He saw it in the original kind Shizun’s mind. He was also made aware, during his initial reconnaissance, of how many members of the sect were speaking in hushed whispers about Shen Qingqiu mourning his lost disciple, but—

Luo Binghe hadn’t expected it to affect Shizun so severely.

Shizun…his grief isn’t an affectation. Luo Binghe would be able to see through it if it were, especially since he’s inside Shizun’s mind during the nights.

Originally, he skimmed over the years of the imposter’s absence even more quickly than he did the other memories in the original kind Shizun’s mind. He’d focused instead on all the interactions between Shizun and the imposter, both before and after the Immortal Alliance Conference. Luo Binghe had been aware of the grief, but not like this.

Then, he hadn’t understood the extent of it.

Watching Shizun now, it’s unbearably clear.

Shizun is a cultivator. Despite that, it’s obvious how deeply he feels the absence of his disciple. It’s obvious how much it weighs on him, and Luo Binghe doesn’t understand. The original kind Shizun, this Shizun—both of them threw their versions of Luo Binghe into the Endless Abyss. Luo Binghe hasn’t gotten there in this Shizun’s memories, not yet, but given how everything else matches up so well with the original kind Shizun, he has to assume the same thing happened here.

Why, then, does Shizun mourn so deeply?

Luo Binghe…really doesn’t understand.

He may be able to find his answers in Shizun’s mind. If he can’t…if he can’t, then what does that mean for Shizun and Luo Binghe himself?

Luo Binghe shakes his head.

No. No, it doesn’t matter. His Shen Qingqiu threw him into the Endless Abyss because he hated Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe doesn’t understand the reasoning behind either of the kind Shizuns’ actions, but his past is over and done with. Finding the answers for the kind Shizuns’ actions are a curiosity and nothing more.

It doesn’t affect Luo Binghe at all.

If he finds the answers, so be it. His main focus needs to be on going through Shizun’s memories, gathering the information that he needs. When he’s not doing that, he needs to stay close to Shizun and prepare for their departure.

The first order of business is getting ahold of Shizun’s food and tea. Like breaking into Cang Qiong, it’s distressingly easy to sprinkle his blood into various dishes heading toward Shizun’s bamboo house. Luo Binghe would be concerned by Qing Jing’s laxness if he wasn’t taking advantage of it.

He’ll make sure Shizun is better guarded when he’s in the Underground Palace with Luo Binghe. His blood in Shizun will prevent most poisons anyway, but Shizun’s health is obviously delicate. He needs taking care of.

…Especially since he isn’t eating any of the food.

This is only a minor setback. Luo Binghe does manage to get his blood inside Shizun: he slips a few drops of it into Shizun’s teapot over the course of multiple days. It’s enough for the colony to establish itself, though the parasites will exhaust themselves quickly if they exert themselves too much before Luo Binghe can get more blood into Shizun. For the moment, he allows the parasites to remain quiescent, spreading subtly through Shizun’s body.

This gives Luo Binghe a greater understanding of Shizun’s health—or lack thereof. What he finds it alarming. Oh, Shizun isn’t dying, but it can’t be said that he’s thriving. Beyond the poison—Luo Binghe only recently reviewed that memory in Shizun’s mind, how he shoved the imposter child bodily out of the way of Elder Sky Hammer’s blow—Shizun hasn’t been taking care of himself. It’s primarily due to his cultivation that he’s holding it together at all.

Luo Binghe can tell, even without a healer’s experienced eye, that Shizun can only go on this way for so long. He’s distinctly malnourished, exhaustion bleeds through every one of his movements, and Luo Binghe can spot an early winter’s illness lurking inside him, just waiting for Shizun’s cultivation to stagnate long enough for it to take hold of him.

Really, it’s for the best that Shizun is coming with him. Obviously no one here on Cang Qiong is taking care of him.

The night after he notices the would-be illness, he brushes an extra layer of dream magic over Shizun’s mind, drawing him deeper into sleep than his usual. Luo Binghe moves the blood parasites slowly and subtly so that their efforts won’t disturb Shizun. The illness is easily eradicated.

Then Luo Binghe dives once more into Shizun’s memories.

He draws it out, his examination of Shizun’s memories. He could be finished with it much sooner than the amount of time he’s taking on it, even considering how much information he’s busily absorbing from Shizun’s sleeping mind. Still, he knows that this is one of his few chances to work unencumbered in Shizun’s mind.

Once Shizun knows Luo Binghe is “back from the Abyss,” he’s sure he’ll lay defenses. Perhaps not against dream magic specifically, but the type of caution Shizun feels in the waking world will bleed through to the Dream Realm. Then again, Shizun is clever: he might well make the leap from Meng Mo’s appearance back then to the conclusion that Luo Binghe has dream powers now.

(And how fascinating, not to mention surprising, it was to realize the imposter child dragged Shizun into that nightmare realm instead of Yingying! Luo Binghe missed that when he skimmed through the original kind Shizun’s memories.)

Well, even if Shizun places wards against dream magic—assuming Luo Binghe ever allows him the supplies to make talismans, which he purposefully hasn’t stocked in Shizun’s quarters yet—Luo Binghe is sure he can find his way around them. It’s simply easier to hide the reasoning behind this before Shizun knows he’s here and attempts to fight him—or begins questioning why Luo Binghe would be so interested in these specific memories.

After all, the imposter child lived through them. He has no need to examine their relationship so intently when he can fall back on his own recollections.

So Luo Binghe draws it out, finishing all his other preparations in the background: Shizun’s body, infected by his blood parasites; Shizun’s health, carefully monitored and bolstered where necessary and undetectable; an array, surreptitiously drawn around the clearing that hosts the sword mound, which will clear Xin Mo’s demonic energy from the air after Luo Binghe uses it; carefully thought out “accidents” set to take place all over Qing Jing, traps ready to be sprung the moment Luo Binghe needs them, though none of them are important or destructive enough to necessitate the personal attention of Qing Jing’s Lord.

Even with all he does in the background, there is only so long Luo Binghe can draw it out. He examines Shizun’s memories with a gimlet eye until, finally, he reaches the Immortal Alliance Conference.

It’s not a memory that has been buried or locked away, not like the ones he needs to set aside time to attend, but when he tugs at it, drawing it into focus, Shizun’s mind flinches in Luo Binghe’s hold. Luo Binghe soothes Shizun’s mind as best he can; even with those efforts, Shizun’s mind remains spiky and uneasy, trying to flee from the memory.

Shh, shh, Luo Binghe whispers to it. It’s all right, everything will be fine, just let this one look…

Shizun shudders. The memory unfolds. 

It is and isn’t the Immortal Alliance Conference of Luo Binghe’s youth. Of course it’s like that. The imposter child received better training than Luo Binghe ever did; he received more food, more comfort, more instruction, more chances to gain experience that would actually help him rather than ingrain poor habits built upon an already shaky foundation.

The imposter child grew up with a kind Shizun, and Shizun had an affection for him that claws open Luo Binghe’s chest with raw need.

In the memory, Shizun seems on edge from the very beginning. Luo Binghe double-checks that Shizun’s mind isn’t occupying his dream avatar, but no. This is only a memory, and in it, Shizun seems to be waiting for something to go wrong.

And go wrong it does.

Shizun’s face pales a shade as a Nu Yuan Chan erupts from the river, dragging disciples into the seething water surrounding it before tearing them apart—including, to Luo Binghe’s surprise, Qin Wanrong. The viewing platform erupts into chaos, all the cultivators present realizing far too late what is happening. It doesn’t take long before cooler heads prevail. The various sects send their cultivators into Jue Di Gorge.

Shizun is among them.

Luo Binghe stalks through the memory, right at Shizun’s heels. He watches the Ghost-Head Spiders attack, watches the ushering of Huan Hua disciples toward safety, the discovery of the Thousand-Leaves Fresh Snow Lotus, Shang Qinghua’s unexpected arrival, and then—

Mobei-Jun? What is he doing here?

Luo Binghe thinks the thought is his own at first, still half-heartedly on the lookout for a Black Moon Rhinoceros-Python despite knowing better from the original kind Shizun’s memories. Then, with disquiet, he realizes it wasn’t his thought at all.

It was Shizun’s.

He swivels in place, staring at the dream avatar. Shizun hasn’t quite inhabited it, not yet, though he’s very close. Luo Binghe can’t tell if that thought came from the memory or from Shizun’s sleeping mind; he leans toward the former, as there is a certain tinge of surprised horror to the thought that only comes from an unexpected enemy appearing. As for how Shizun recognized Mobei-Jun—honestly, Luo Binghe isn’t sure.

What he is sure of is that he doesn’t want Shizun inhabiting his dream avatar right now. He weaves together a net to send Shizun’s mind deeper into sleep, the better for him to watch this memory uninterrupted.

Shizun’s mind resists him.

Luo Binghe miscalculated. This memory is too emotionally charged. Examining it closer, Luo Binghe can see the flow to it that speaks of a memory often recalled, the minor degradation that comes from a memory constantly worried—and the warping that comes with a memory featured frequently in nightmares. It’s not enough to distort the memory from the truth, but it has hooked barbs in Shizun’s mind. He can’t run from it, no matter how much he may wish to, and nor can Luo Binghe send him away.

If he keeps trying to force Shizun’s mind deeper into sleep, away from this anchored nightmare, it may well alert Shizun to the fact that there’s an intruder in his dreamscape. He’s powerful, with all a Peak Lord’s strength despite his poisoning, so Luo Binghe has been exceedingly delicate this whole time, hiding the traces of what he’s been doing. Never forcing, only cajoling.

That won’t work here.

Luo Binghe leaves off trying to force Shizun out. He exerts enough control to hold the memory firm, refusing to let it slip into a nightmare that might distort what he wishes to learn, but otherwise allows the memory to continue.

There’s the fight with Mobei-Jun. Zheng Yang’s shattering. The imposter child’s seal being released. Shizun, collapsed against the tree where Mobei-Jun threw him, staring unblinkingly in the imposter child’s direction.

Shizun takes a shuddering breath—

The memory skips forward.

Shizun bends in half where he is suddenly halfway across the clearing, kneeling next to the imposter child. He coughs up a mouthful of blood, his hand slipping off the imposter child’s back as Luo Binghe’s counterpart comes back to himself.

Luo Binghe remembers what it was like to have his seal broken by the Black Moon Rhinoceros-Python. Of course, later he realized that it wasn’t broken, merely cracked—nearly in half, yes, but it was nowhere near a thorough break. He’d needed Xin Mo itself to finally gain full access to all that his ancestry afforded him. Xin Mo wiped away the last remnants of the cradle seal his birth mother (presumably) had placed upon him.

Even without having his seal fully broken, Luo Binghe remembers. The way demonic qi flooded his meridians, the way he tumbled headlong through the confusion and rage brought about by it, the way he was forced to use every technique and trick Meng Mo ever taught him in order to control the surge of energy enough to stop himself going into a qi deviation. He wrestled all that power under his control with extreme effort—an effort he went through once more when he claimed Xin Mo, though then it was more about controlling Xin Mo’s demands rather than his own power.

Mobei-Jun broke the imposter child’s seal much more cleanly than the Black Moon Rhinoceros-Python broke Luo Binghe’s own. It’s obvious how much distress it placed on him, the raging current of power that swept through him—

And Shizun was hurt by it. That’s the only explanation. His hand, slipping from the imposter child’s back, like he tried to help tame it only to have that corrosive power reflected back at him.

Luo Binghe edges closer. Shen Qingqiu wipes at his mouth with one sleeve, smearing the blood around more than he manages to wipe it off. The imposter child finishes coming back to awareness, but Luo Binghe doesn’t care about that. He cares about the way Shizun’s expression closes off, all other emotion shut away in favor of a blank porcelain mask.

The imposter child didn’t see it—due to that strange gap in the memory, Luo Binghe himself only had a bare moment to catch a glimpse—but there was bright worry lighting Shizun’s face. Worry, and something akin to grief, yet no surprise. No hatred. No disdain.

“Luo Binghe,” Shizun rasps. “Let’s have a thorough discussion.”

Luo Binghe watches intently. This confrontation is all too similar to the one he lived through. It should drive him into a fury, to see even this kind Shizun’s hypocrisy, knowing what he claimed years earlier about demons compared to humans, knowing the affection he so obviously holds for the imposter child…

And yet.

The imposter child is too entrenched in the moment, the roil of newly released demonic qi, the terror of having been caught, to pay attention to the subtleties of Shizun’s behavior. Luo Binghe, distanced by two centuries from this moment, arrows in on those same subtleties immediately.

Shizun’s voice is cold, true enough, but not with hatred. It’s cold due to the sheer absence of emotion in it. When Luo Binghe lived through this, Shen Qingqiu’s voice trembled with rage and hate, his eyes poison, his words arrows.

In comparison, Shizun has pulled a sheet of ice around himself as he speaks, as he forces the imposter child back toward the Abyss. If anything, he sounds akin to an actor reading his lines for a play. A poor actor. There is no passion to his words.

No passion at all, until the imposter child asks, “Shizun, do you really want to kill me?”

Shizun’s sleeping mind writhes, nearly screaming, struggling to escape, even as the memory of Shizun says immediately, “I don’t want to kill you!”

That, Luo Binghe reflects, may be the truest thing Shizun has said here.

Shizun’s mind doesn’t calm. It grows ever more agitated as the memory continues. It’s fighting him hard now. Luo Binghe can barely keep the memory on track. He needs to see the conclusion, he needs to know.

Memory Shizun backs Luo Binghe up to the very edge of the Endless Abyss. Xiu Ya thrusts forward—

The imposter child doesn’t dodge.

Shizun throws himself violently from the dream, clawing his way free of Luo Binghe’s hold in unfettered desperation. In that brief moment between waking and sleeping, the memory skips forward again—Shen Qingqiu stands at the edge of the Abyss as the imposter child falls into the depths—then leaps sideways—a tiny, battered Shen Qingqiu glares hatefully up at him from where he’s bound and kneeling—before Luo Binghe loses his grasp entirely.

Luo Binghe wakes. He reaches out with his blood parasites to feel Shizun, who also is awake. Very clearly so.

Luo Binghe can feel Shizun’s heart pounding in his ribcage, frantic; feels the way his breath hitches desperately, catching in his lungs before shuddering out; feels the whole body tremors, the flex of muscles contracting; can track the way Shizun stumbles as he leaves his bed behind, heading from the bamboo house into the forest; feels the faint sting of a body dropping too heavily to the ground as Shizun collapses to his knees in front of—ah, where else?—the sword mound.

He feels, intimately, those few streaks of warmth against Shizun’s cheeks, slipping down and quickly turning cold. Luo Binghe burns with it.

He can’t stop himself. Currently, he’s deep within Qing Jing’s bamboo forest, well out of the way of the rest of the peak, but now he makes his way toward the clearing behind the bamboo house. Luo Binghe stops at the edge of the clearing, tucked partially behind a stand of bamboo, granting himself a view of Shizun while keeping himself hidden. Not that it’s particularly difficult to accomplish, given Shizun’s distraction.

In the moonlight, Shizun gleams like crystal, the soft light bouncing off his white sleeping robes, which are barely covered by a pale green outer robe that isn’t nearly thick enough for the weather this time of year. His long black hair, the braid trailing over the top of one shoulder to pool near his side, is stark in contrast. The tears, what few they were, have already stopped, yet the tracks linger on Shizun’s pale cheeks, glittering faintly if Luo Binghe squints at them just right.

(art by nukkis)

Shizun is so beautiful like this. Shen Qingqiu was always beautiful, of course, even when Luo Binghe hated his master, but in this moment, in Shizun’s grief and despair, he is perhaps the most gorgeous creature Luo Binghe has ever seen. Delicate and frail, with Luo Binghe’s blood parasites threaded throughout his body so that Luo Binghe can feel every flex of his lungs, every strong heartbeat, every twitch of his muscles.

If Luo Binghe was burning before, it’s a wildfire now.

It’s so desperately difficult not to upend all his plans. Xin Mo whispers to him, stoking his desire ever higher. Were Luo Binghe even a hair less disciplined, an iota less accustomed to pushing Xin Mo’s demands away from him, or Xin Mo any less than sated by their trips through all the worlds, he would throw all his careful maneuvering away. He would have Shizun here and now, fucking him on the ground of his precious Qing Jing Peak, right in front of the grave of that stupid imposter child—

Luo Binghe closes his eyes, draws in a deep breath, and forces himself to step away.

He slinks through into the woods, back to his makeshift little camp far away from the bamboo house. He resists the urge to move his parasites inside Shizun, to play with Shizun’s body. Instead, he contents himself with keeping track of every slowly steadying breath, every shiver in the too chill air, every fluctuation of the poison running through his veins—and oh, how he’ll enjoy curing Shizun of that.

Luo Binghe takes himself in his hand and daydreams of doing precisely that.

Soon.

Soon, he’ll have the Shizun that he’s always deserved.

And Luo Binghe will have that Shizun all to himself.

Chapter Text

Luo Binghe has, at this point, spent so much time jumping between worlds that he doesn't even need to think about it in order to return to his original world. Xin Mo is far too familiar with it as well, heading automatically toward the Underground Palace when Luo Binghe wishes for it. By now it’s become as easy as stepping across mere space inside his own world instead of stepping through the void. 

In this case, the ease of it all is a distinct benefit. Otherwise he would have had to leave the mountain in order to make any kind of testing portals, as he wouldn't want to utilize his array around the sword mound too quickly.

Since he has no concerns about his abilities, since all his preparations are done, since he has now has the last pieces of Shizun’s memory that he needs, Luo Binghe remains deep in the bamboo forest for the rest of the night, his burning attention focused on Shizun. He thoroughly indulges himself imagining the time when he will be able to lave that attention on Shizun in person rather than from this impersonal distance.

After, he waits in the darkness. Luo Binghe sits there and thinks while the night passes. 

In the moment, it wasn't so strange, the way that Shizun's memory skipped. Or rather, it was, but Luo Binghe hadn't had the time to think about it too closely. Not with the way he struggled to hold Shizun's mind in the memory so he could see what happened. The memory didn't have the edge to it that spoke of a qi deviation, which would be one of Luo Binghe's first guesses as to what could have caused such a stutter in the flow of it. 

It isn't that Shizun's mind shied away from that moment, either. Not any more than it shied away from the scene at the Abyss in its entirety. That skipping inside the memory was too sudden. Too jarring. One moment jumping directly into an entirely other one, with no indication of what happened in between.

It bothers Luo Binghe in a way he isn't sure how to put into words. 

There’s also what happened after Shizun tore his way free of the dream-memory. That glimpse of a decades younger Shen Qingqiu—Shen Jiu, Luo Binghe remembers from the trial. Before he gained his courtesy name he was known as Shen Jiu.

Luo Binghe was granted only the barest exposure to that memory, but it's further in Shen Qingqiu's past than Luo Binghe has previously thought he would be capable of reaching. Since Shen Jiu was a child in it, it took place well before Shizun’s qi deviation, and must logically be one of those locked memories—no, no, perhaps it’s one of the buried memories instead, as Luo Binghe isn’t sure Shizun is able to access those locked memories at all, much less Luo Binghe.

Whatever the case may be, the resurgence of that memory bothers Luo Binghe, because…

If Luo Binghe didn't know better, he would have sworn it belonged to someone else. 

There was nothing large, nothing distinct, to tip Luo Binghe off. There was only the mildest discrepancy between the two kinds of memories he saw tonight, something in the flavor of it that Luo Binghe noted. Trying to describe it to anyone not a dream master would be like describing the difference between dark and regular soy to an amateur cook—except even that difference would be more noticeable than what Luo Binghe sensed. 

Did the qi deviation really change Shen Qingqiu's outlook so much that his past memories felt so dissimilar to the rest of his psyche?

Is that why they're buried so deeply? 

He wants to know what the rest of those buried memories contain and if they share that same strange disparity as the shard of memory he was thrown into and then immediately out of. 

More than that, he wants to know what was in those skipped moments at the Abyss. He wants to see the whole memory, to know everything that happened there, the better to understand Shen Qingqiu. 

Luo Binghe is certain that there's something important there. He just doesn't know what.

Not yet. 

He meditates in the bamboo forest until—as the sun begins to rise and the peak stirs—he feels Shizun retreat into the bamboo house. Through his parasites, if he concentrates, he can feel the warmth surrounding Shizun, bringing a flush to his body that was absent over the night while he sat vigil over the sword mound. He must be bathing. 

Luo Binghe hums to himself, imagining it. It's even more titillating than the sight of Shizun in front of the sword mound, but Luo Binghe doesn't allow himself to be lost in his imaginings again. He'll have time enough for all that later. 

It's time to bring Shizun home with him. 

He stands, stretching languidly, and lopes through the forest toward the main parts of the peak, where several of the distractions that he set up previously are simply waiting for him to set them off. He'll wait until he feels Shizun get out of the bath, of course, but then he'll be claiming his rightful empress. 

Unsurprisingly, it all goes off precisely as planned. Luo Binghe observes the chaos for a brief few moments before making his way toward the clearing with the sword mound, following the call of his blood parasites. 

Shizun, I'm coming for you. 

Taken by surprise, it's all too easy to drag Shizun through Xin Mo's portal the way he hadn't been able to with the original kind Shizun. No one interferes. Not any of the Peak Lords, and certainly not the imposter. Undoubtedly he's currently washing the filth of the Abyss off himself at Huan Hua Palace, but that's too far away for him to stop Luo Binghe.

If he wanted Shizun, he should have beaten Luo Binghe to his side. 

Fool. 

Shizun fights like a wildcat, but it doesn't matter, not once they've made it through the portal. Certainly not once it snaps closed after their passage. 

Shizun has no way back. Luo Binghe is never going to let him go. 

...Shizun is quite skittish, Luo Binghe notes. No, the kidnapping can't have left a good impression, and Luo Binghe will acknowledge that, but the way Shizun's heart pounds in fear, the way he eyes Luo Binghe—

It's like the original kind Shizun all over again. The way he looked at Luo Binghe, when he somehow intruded on Luo Binghe's dreamscape. The way he looked at Luo Binghe, when he inexplicably realized Luo Binghe wasn't the same as the man he thought he was—except, of course, for all the ways that Luo Binghe was the same person.

(Admittedly, that second occasion had more than its share of offended outrage to it alongside the fear.)

Shizun is not-so-quietly terrified of Luo Binghe, and he doesn't know why. 

Well, no, that's not true. Didn't he just force Shizun to relive the betrayal of his disciple? Anyone rational would be scared in those circumstances, with their would-be victim returned to them so unceremoniously.

(At the same time, anyone rational would have recognized the deeply obvious affections that the imposter child held for Shen Qingqiu throughout his youth, but there was absolutely no indication during his memories that he had noticed it at all. In fact, in those memories he attempted to shoo the imposter child toward girls on more than a few occasions.

Surely, though, their years spent together should have been enough for Shizun to think the imposter child might still hold some small amounts of affection for him…? Even with so severe a betrayal as the Abyss, the devotion the imposter child displayed was extreme.)

Shizun is too scared of him, though, and too willing to show it. In the dreamscape, he knew. As soon as Luo Binghe spoke, he knew to be scared of him, backtracking immediately on the (in hindsight deeply affectionate) call to gain Luo Binghe’s attention. Now, again, it's as if he knows. 

What does Shizun think he knows that would justify such fear…?

No matter. They'll have plenty of time to discuss it in the future. For now, Luo Binghe has to coax Shizun into putting his guard aside, however temporarily. 

He follows Shizun to the wall where he’s retreated. Luo Binghe rests his hand against Xiu Ya, pushing it down, uncaring of the way it bites into his skin. Shizun lets him. A thrill zings through Luo Binghe at Shizun’s subconscious surrender to him even now. It's not yet for the right reasons, but he'll make it be. 

"It's just the two of us," Luo Binghe tells Shizun. "No interruptions. Not by Cang Qiong, nor by any...other annoyances."

"What...what do you want?" Shizun whispers. 

Luo Binghe nearly laughs. Isn't it obvious? How could Shizun miss it?

"Shizun," he says. All that he has wanted, for years now, has been Shizun. He aches with it. He burns with it. 

"Don't play games," Shizun snaps at him. 

Ah, Shizun. You've so very much missed the point, Luo Binghe thinks ruefully. 

"Shizun misunderstands," Luo Binghe says aloud. He leans forward, into Shizun's space. He breathes in slowly, taking in the scent of Shizun—the soaps from his bath, the lavender oil he must have combed through his hair, the lingering notes of the sachets his winter clothes were packed with in order to keep the moths at bay. “I. Want. Shizun.”

Shizun’s heart, Shizun’s soul, all of Shizun’s secrets, all of that which he gave so freely to the imposter. He wants the Shizun that should have been his own from the very beginning.

Skittish as ever, Shizun flinches back from him, though he has nowhere to go. All he accomplishes is pressing himself further against the wall, the safety he chose now preventing him from running away. The kind Shizun does seem to have a tendency towards flight. 

Luo Binghe acknowledges that he will have to move slowly, in order to give Shizun time to adjust. Shizun is quick to flee, so if Luo Binghe moves too fast, he’ll drive Shizun further away, making it that much more difficult to sway him to his side. It won’t be impossible, but why make trouble for himself?

Despite those thoughts, he can’t help but reach out and touch. Shizun has been so close for two weeks now. So close, and yet Luo Binghe hasn’t been able to touch him. The blood parasites inside of him helped stave off the aching need, but now that he has Shizun in front of him, he’s impossible to resist.

He tilts Shizun’s head up. Angles it for a kiss, and watches the barest parting of Shizun’s lips, the way his eyes flicker so briefly down to Luo Binghe’s own lips. It would be so easy to dip his head and press their mouths together—but that would be moving far too quickly indeed. Shizun’s heart has picked up to an even higher speed. Luo Binghe feels it like his own second heartbeat, parasites swirling round and round in Shizun’s bloodstream. He refrains, barely, from the kiss he so desperately wants.

Instead, he allows his fingers to drift higher, tracing along the edge of Shizun’s cheek, allowing himself a little more of the touch he won’t be able to last without. He touched his own shizun in a similar way, years and years ago, before he pulled that Shen Qingqiu’s eye from its socket and his tongue from his mouth.

It’s nothing like this.

Blood from Luo Binghe’s cut palm dripped down onto his fingers before he healed the wound. Bright red streaks its way across Shizun’s cheek, his parasites squirming faintly where they rest before he commands them into stillness. Inevitably, his hand traces toward Shizun’s mouth, and oh, what would it be like to shove his fingers in there? To feel Shizun’s tongue wrap around them, to have Shizun suck on them, to fuck Shizun’s mouth the way he’ll someday fuck Shizun’s hole and make him scream as he comes—?

Shizun turns his head roughly away, his lips pressed firmly together.

(art by Nelleion)

Luo Binghe shoves the lurid imaginings away. He takes a precautionary step back, to keep himself from making any further mistakes, and wills himself to calm before he can give himself away.

Shizun, at least, doesn’t know the direction that his thoughts ended up drifting. On the other hand, it’s easy enough to guess what Shizun was thinking.

“So cautious,” Luo Binghe says, suppressing the urge to either laugh or coo at his precious Shizun. “Of course, Shizun is a learned scholar. He knows all about the powers of a Heavenly Demon’s blood.”

No doubt there’s plenty that Shizun doesn’t yet know: tidbits of knowledge that wouldn’t have made their way into whatever bestiaries or treatises Shizun managed to get his hands on, some of which can only come from personal experience. Luo Binghe will take great pleasure in showing him—and in wringing such pleasures from him. His fingers tap lightly against Shizun’s cheek, an affectionate pat, an excited promise to himself.

Pleasure is for later. First, to make sure Shizun understands that even if he does try to run, he won’t be able to escape Luo Binghe. Shen Qingqiu belongs to him now.

"Shizun needn't worry. This lord has no intention of forcing you to consume his blood parasites right now. There’s no need for it,” Luo Binghe tells Shizun. No need for Shizun to turn his head away, no need for him to try and avoid consuming Luo Binghe’s blood parasites, no need for him to run, no need for any of it.

He flexes the blood parasites threaded through Shizun’s body. It causes pain, though it lasts as brief an amount of time as Luo Binghe can make it. It encompasses the space of a heartbeat, the flicker of a candle’s flame—but it is powerful.

A warning.

Shizun’s legs fold out from beneath him. He slides down the wall, landing at Luo Binghe’s feet, panting heavily. The pain should have faded near immediately, but now, with Shizun aware of the parasites, he allows them to move freely.

He sweeps them through Shizun’s body, checking for any new damage, poking at Shizun’s heart and liver and stomach and lungs, checking the functionality of them all, a more thorough sweep than having them passively exist inside Shizun’s body. The winter’s illness he’s already taken care of, but there’s plenty of damage from Without-A-Cure for him to handle.

Depending on when Shizun allows Luo Binghe into his bed, he’ll likely have to clear out Shizun’s meridians. That, unfortunately, is one thing that his blood parasites can’t handle by themselves. Nor can he cure Without-A-Cure without complete dual cultivation. It truly is a horrifically designed poison.

Shizun noticeably shudders at the sensation. He draws several breaths, each one growing steadier. Then, not looking up, he asks, “It was in my tea, wasn’t it?”

"Mn," Luo Binghe confirms. "Over the course of several days. It was in your food, too, for all the good that did. Shizun really doesn't eat enough." A matter that Luo Binghe will soon rectify. Forcibly, if necessary, though given the sheer delight Shizun always showed for the imposter child’s food, he has few concerns on that front.

"...And the dreams?" 

Ah, yes. The dreams. The dreams from which Luo Binghe has not yet extracted all that he wishes—not when he doesn’t know why there were gaps, nor if he will be able to access those memories currently being kept from him.

Shizun has obviously pieced together that Luo Binghe has dream powers, as Luo Binghe suspected he might. He’s so clever.

"So sure that they weren't your own guilty conscience, Shizun?" Luo Binghe crouches down in front of Shen Qingqiu. Haltingly, Shen Qingqiu raises his head until their gazes meet.

Beautiful, Luo Binghe thinks, as always.

“What’s your goal here, Binghe? Why all this production?”

It’s a good thing that Luo Binghe had already used his own blood parasites to hold his reactions in place, because hearing Binghe fall from Shizun’s lips sends a bolt of heat through him. It’s so intimate. Far more intimate than even his wives are with him. A-Luo from Ning Yingying carries a near equal amount of intimacy, but it’s not the same. That’s an artifact of their childhood, of the affection she once—and still does, at least somewhat—hold for him, but it doesn’t fall against his heart the same way it does to hear Shen Qingqiu say his name with no pretense and a deep, aching affection that Luo Binghe isn’t even sure Shen Qingqiu knows he is expressing. 

Binghe, Binghe, Binghe, runs on a loop in his head. It’s so hard not to let his delight run away with him, but he has to remain in control for the rest of this conversation. He must continue to tread carefully while they speak.

He doesn’t intend to lie to Shizun, not directly. If Shizun makes assumptions, if Shizun thinks he knows who he is talking to, who he is falling for—Luo Binghe can’t be blamed for that. However, he does need to keep Shizun from figuring out who, exactly, he is for as long as possible.

He can’t take the chance that Shizun will choose the imposter child over him, even if they’re a universe apart from each other.

He wouldn’t be able to stand that. Not again.

“Would you believe me,” Luo Binghe asks Shizun, “if I said I wanted what was?” Everything that he saw in Shizun’s dreams so recently, along with the original kind Shizun’s dreams and his casual intimacy with the imposter when they fought Luo Binghe. “Shizun and that disciple…” That imposter, both of them, wretches who don’t deserve to share Luo Binghe’s name. “Can’t I have that, too?”

Shen Qingqiu gazes at him, his heart rate finally gone down to a deep, steady beat, his face as expressionless as a porcelain doll, utterly closed off to Luo Binghe. He does not answer.

It’s like a bucket of cold water dumped over Luo Binghe’s head.

Or, he thinks spitefully, a cup of hot tea.

No. No, Shizun simply hasn’t had time to adjust yet. Luo Binghe has to be patient with him. As patient as he can stand to be. He needs to coax Shizun close to himself, and make him choose to stay.

So in the service of that: best to give Shizun a bit of space. The two of them can’t go anywhere from here. Not right now.

“Shizun should rest,” Luo Binghe says. “He’s had a long day. This lord will fetch food.” He walks to the door. Pauses, and says, "Shizun has free rein of these rooms, to do with as he wishes, but he shouldn't attempt to leave them." He glances over his shoulder at Shizun before he leaves, the man in question still kneeling on the ground.

It almost doesn’t feel real, that he finally has Shizun. They’ve a long road before them, but Shizun is here, safely contained in the rooms Luo Binghe prepared specifically for him.

The rooms Luo Binghe will have to make sure his flight risk of a beloved doesn’t escape. He steps into the corridor, closing the door behind him, and completes the array set against the back side of it by pressing his bloodied palm against it. It flares to life, brilliantly bright, with a swell of qi that Shizun will surely be able to feel on the other side of the door. Once it’s activated, it sinks into the door, invisible save for when Luo Binghe summons it to his sight again, whether to check on its power levels—or to disperse it entirely.

Hopefully it won’t take too long before he’s able to enact the latter. He’d hoped not to have to use an array at all, but acknowledged the high probability of its necessity. It won’t be difficult for him to pass back and forth through the array—all he needs is to flare his qi to unlock it, and then the array will read his blood parasites as a secondary measure to make sure it’s truly him.

A lock can be picked. An array is much more difficult to escape. Oh, it’s not infallible, this array that Luo Binghe has designed—but it will keep others out as much as it will keep Shizun in. Should anyone attempt to break it, Luo Binghe will know, and will swiftly handle it.

Shizun will be kept safe until he is able to take up his role as Luo Binghe’s empress.

With such pleasant thoughts, Luo Binghe strolls down the corridors of his palace toward the closest kitchen. 

Luo Binghe centers himself as he puts the finishing touches on his dishes. Each time he returned to the Underground Palace, after yet another unsuccessful attempt to either break into the kind Shizun’s world or find another kind Shizun for himself, he ended up here before long: cooking miniature feasts, preparing for the day when he could serve them to Shizun.

Before, he always ended up eating those dishes himself. Or—crucially for today’s efforts—he would complete the majority of a dish, then place it under a long-term stasis talisman, and from there into a qiankun pouch, one specifically designed for food, to be saved for another occasion.

Luo Binghe knows, thanks to his perusal of Shizun’s memories, which of his dishes are Shizun’s favorites. He picks a selection of those, many of them fortunately either ones he has partially prepared or ones that are simple enough to make quickly. As he cooks, he allows the mindless work to bring himself back into equilibrium, and he thinks.

It’s going to be a delicate process, luring Shizun closer. His current plan is to maintain the illusion that he’s Shen Qingqiu’s lost disciple. Between his access to Shen Qingqiu’s memories and his own acting abilities, that should take Luo Binghe a fair distance. Luo Binghe can steadily add parts of his own centuries-old personality into the mix after he’s spent enough time assuring Shizun that he isn’t so different from the imposter child. It helps that it’s been years since Shen Qingqiu saw the imposter child: people change, in times apart.

They change especially if one has betrayed the other.

Luo Binghe frowns.

He still doesn’t understand why Shizun did what he did. He thought about it, during that long gap between being kicked out of the dream and finally taking Shizun home with him, but he has yet to come up with any answers.

Mulling over all the possibilities regarding that takes him through the last of the food preparation and plating all of it properly onto a heavily-burdened tray. All that’s left is the tea—

Luo Binghe hesitates. There’s a rather simple way to kill two birds with one stone, isn’t there?

Shizun already knows that Luo Binghe has been poking around inside his mind, looking into his memories. Obviously he assumes—well, Luo Binghe isn't quite sure what he assumes. Hopefully not that Luo Binghe was checking his own behavior against that of the “Luo Binghe” Shen Qingqiu personally raised. 

…Shen Qingqiu can't get any more angry about Luo Binghe going through his mind than he already is. Better to do this now, and drive Shizun a half-step away from him, than to do it later, when it might be several steps away from Binghe. 

Decisively, he grabs Sweet-Bane Valerian from his personal stores, adding it to the tea blend he carefully selects to accompany it. Sweet-Bane Valerian isn’t terribly noticeable, especially when added to an already sweet tea, but its effects are strong. It will lull Shen Qingqiu into a deep sleep, one where he can't kick Luo Binghe out as he did previously. A drugged mind is, in many ways, easier for Luo Binghe to snoop around in.

The Sweet-Bane Valerian has no effect on Luo Binghe thanks to his heritage. It’s useful as a sleeping aid to most humans and demons alike, but should Luo Binghe ever find it difficult to fall asleep, he can use his dream powers to drag himself down. He'll be able to follow Shizun quite easily into his dreams. 

Humming lightly to himself, Luo Binghe makes the journey back to Shizun's new quarters, just down the hallway from his own. When they're married, of course, they'll share quarters. His empress will never be far from him, though Shizun can keep his current quarters as a secondary set if he’d like. For now, Shizun needs space of his own, and time to get accustomed to all the changes. 

Luo Binghe spots several servants on his way through the Underground Palace. He rolls his eyes as they catch glimpses of him and scurry away. About half of them, perhaps more, report to someone outside the serving staff’s chain of command. No matter how much of Luo Binghe's duties as Emperor he has delegated to regents (primarily Mobei-Jun and Sha Hualing, along with Liu Mingyan and Ning Yingying) while he travels, there are always those—advisors, diplomats, some few of his wives that he’s yet to rid himself of—who desire to know precisely when Luo Binghe has returned to the Underground Palace.

Over the past two years, sometimes that’s been as short as a few shichen. Other times it’s been as long as a few weeks. Everyone has learned to jump on the chance to speak with Junshang when they can, and they handsomely pay servants to accomplish that.

That practice will have to be put to a swift halt now. He didn't care when he was so busy traveling—or at least, when he was annoyed by it, there were plenty of targets to take his aggravation out upon should he so desire; some of them were even lucky enough not to be in this world—but with Shizun here now, Luo Binghe cannot abide even these minor betrayals. It could too easily be turned into a threat. 

He will decide when (and what) the public gets to know about his empress. He will not have gossip be spread about Shizun beforehand, especially not the kind that might make him a target. 

Luo Binghe flares his qi to unlock the array on Shizun's door and steps inside, the newly anchored wards easily allowing him to pass. He kept part of his mind on Shizun the whole time that he was away, monitoring as much of his movements and emotions as he could assess via the blood parasites. It's not an exact art, of course, it's always up to interpretation, but if Luo Binghe had to hazard a guess, he would say that Shizun was feeling...curious. Certainly Luo Binghe tracked him thoroughly exploring all the rooms that make up his quarters. 

As Luo Binghe enters, though, Shen Qingqiu is sitting primly on one of the divans in the main room, his hands folded demurely in his lap. Luo Binghe would almost be fooled, if he hadn't felt the way Shizun's heart jumped when the door opened. 

Luo Binghe pretends that he's unaware of this as he walks to the table closest to Shen Qingqiu, taking care to settle everything from his tray onto it just so before he sits on the divan opposite Shizun’s. He would hate for Shizun to think him sloppy. 

From there, it's easy to cajole Shizun into joining him. He is rewarded greatly when Shizun begins to eat. His eyes close, his features slackening in muted pleasure. Even when not intending it, Shizun is deeply seductive. It's all too easy to imagine him making this expression in another context. 

“Is it to Shizun’s liking?” Luo Binghe asks, when Shen Qingqiu has opened his eyes once more and had a moment to sample his tea.

“…Mn.” 

Shizun’s seemingly lackluster response is, nevertheless, an acknowledgment. His obvious pleasure speaks more than his words do. As does the way he continues to eat, maintaining all the grace and manners of a Peak Lord, yet undeniably eating quickly because he does enjoy it. To have him eating at all is a victory, given how much he relied on inedia before Luo Binghe reentered the picture.

“Good,” Luo Binghe says with a smile. One which grows as he recalls his own usual method of flirtation, and what the imposter child himself said when Shizun woke after the demon invasion. “This disciple will keep up his promise to Shizun from back then: I’ll give it to him every day, with variations.”

He may as well lay the groundwork! However purely the imposter may (or may not; Luo Binghe knows himself) have meant it back then, right here and now he means it. Intently.

Shizun chokes on his current bite, a faint pink flush appearing high on his cheeks and his eyes widening fractionally.

Luo Binghe purposefully gentles his smile, making it more demure, and raises the teapot, asking only, “More tea?”

He’s sure to keep Shizun’s teacup full over the course of the meal, tracking the progression of the drug through Shizun’s system. Luo Binghe notices Shizun beginning to list long before the man himself does. Obviously Luo Binghe will have to keep an eye on him, if he isn’t paranoid enough to be testing his food or drinks and doesn’t notice the effects of something even so benign beginning to set in.

…Of course, his blood parasites will take care of most any poison that anyone might try to hurt Shizun with, so the point is perhaps moot. It’s the principle of the matter.

Shizun doesn’t notice until he knocks his teacup over. Luo Binghe has stopped refilling it by this point. It’s not impossible to overdose on Sweet-Bane Valerian, though it would take far more than a single teapot. Instead he’s stopped pouring because it’s dragging Shizun down quickly. Poor Shizun. Cang Qiong really was terrible at taking care of him.

“Shh, Shizun, it’s all right,” Luo Binghe says, making it to the other side of the table as Shizun loses his fight to stay upright. He collapses directly into Luo Binghe’s arms; even through the layers of silk, the warmth of his body is intoxicating.

“What’d you…do to me?” Shizun demands, his tongue already grown clumsy, his words slurred. His lashes flutter heavily.

“It’s only something to help you sleep,” Luo Binghe soothes. “It wouldn’t hit so hard if Shizun weren’t already exhausted.”

True enough, if not the whole story.

“Luo Binghe…you…”

“Mn,” Luo Binghe hums. He hugs Shizun closer to himself and rises to his feet, cradling Shizun in his arms. It’s only a bare few steps toward the bedroom before Shizun is completely asleep, his breath evening out and tickling at Luo Binghe’s throat due to the way his head rests against Luo Binghe’s shoulder.

Luo Binghe keeps Shizun held halfway in his arms as he sits on the bed. It’s a better angle for removing Shizun’s guan before gently finger-combing his hair and swiftly plaiting it. Then he removes Shizun’s outermost layers: his boots, his arm bracers, the belt holding his robes closed.

After that, Luo Binghe pauses. He takes a moment to assess the blood parasites inside of Shizun. The barest drop of blood inside any enemy can be lethal, and given the time and resources, his parasites can breed; it’s simply easier on them if there is a strong colony established first. He has managed to get his parasites inside Shizun, but it was only a few drops at a time, over a bare few days, and he didn’t wish them to make themselves known to Shizun—which they may well have done by breeding.

When joining his household, his wives drink an entire cupful of his blood parasites. Yes, mixed with the wedding wine, but nevertheless significantly more than what Shizun currently has.

Luo Binghe will not allow Shizun to be any less than any of his wives. Nor will he allow this to be a potential oversight. The reason he has his wives drink so much of his blood is that it truly is a safety measure—or can be, when utilized properly. Luo Binghe stayed out of the harem drama, generally leaving that to his wives to sort out among themselves, but his wives have been known to be kidnapped or attacked or poisoned by outside forces.

Luo Binghe is capable of giving automatic commands to his parasites, orders that they constantly follow to the best of their abilities no matter if he is paying attention to them or not, such as keeping his wives alive. Obviously it’s never as good as if he is personally directing them, but as a stopgap measure, it’s excellent. Often the measures his parasites automatically take alerts him to the danger and allows him to step in to more directly manage it.

Shizun will need poison immunity. Luo Binghe won’t allow his parasites to wipe the Sweet-Bane Valerian from his system, but Shizun will need safeguards against other poisons. Until Without-A-Cure is dealt with, Luo Binghe will also need to bolster Shizun’s circulatory system, his immune system, continually heal the damage the poison causes, maintain his general well-being…so much to do, to keep Shizun in good health.

Luo Binghe will pamper him like no one else. He’ll take such good care of him.

He will not let Shizun fall to any of these mundane dangers when he has the ability to protect him.

So thinking, Luo Binghe raises a hand to his mouth and digs his teeth into the meat of his palm, the same palm Shizun cut earlier, ripping at it until he has a sufficient pool of blood. He tips Shizun’s head back, coaxing his mouth open, and feeds the parasites to him.

They slide in, pouring down Shizun’s throat. There’s no danger of him choking, not when Luo Binghe controls both him and the parasites, so instead Luo Binghe gets to indulge in the sensation of it all: his blood sliding down the inside of Shizun’s throat; the way Shizun’s throat closes and swallows around it at his subtle encouragement; Luo Binghe spreading throughout Shizun’s whole body, connecting with the parasites already there, and lighting up each part of Shizun’s body.

It’s over too soon. Luo Binghe doesn’t waste a moment before he’s tearing open his hand again, deeper and messier this time, the better to get more blood before the wound seals itself up. Then he’s repeating the process.

Shizun’s lips are painted red, an alluring splash of color against his pale skin, begging for Luo Binghe to kiss him clean. Luo Binghe is hard beneath him, barely managing to restrain himself from grinding up against Shizun’s lax form. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, lungs filling themselves with Shizun’s scent—then he forces himself to lay Shizun onto the bed. He wipes his bloodied hand against his robe, smearing the excess away, before using his sleeve to wipe at Shizun’s mouth. It wouldn’t do for him to wake with blood gone tacky and dry on his lips.

From there, he strips Shizun of his outer layers, pausing when he gets to Shizun’s inner layers. Even with two robes, they’re thin enough that he can see the shadow of Shizun’s body beneath them—the delicate curl of his toes inside his silken socks, the peaks of his nipples, the curve of his cock.

Luo Binghe wants.

He doesn’t remove those last layers. He has to be restrained, and he knows that this would be a step too far. No matter how much he wants to remove from Shizun every vestige of the world that is no longer his, no matter how he wants to rip apart the remainder of that life to make room only for Luo Binghe—he refrains.

He tucks Shizun in, making sure he’s settled comfortably. He sets Xiu Ya in the stand next to Shizun’s bed. It rattles lightly at him as he does. Luo Binghe shoots it a narrow glare. It had best not give up the game to Shizun.

Luo Binghe takes Shizun’s robes with him as he goes. He’ll keep them for now. In fact…

He holds them up to his face, reveling in the scent that clings to them.

Shizun, he thinks. Oh, my Shizun…

He doesn’t have time for distractions. Not right now. He needs to take advantage of Shizun’s drugged sleep while he can.

He lays himself out on his own bed, Shizun’s robes folded neatly near him, and drags himself down into sleep.

Luo Binghe has two choices here. Choosing one won’t block him from the other, so it’s more a question of which he wants to go after first: Shizun's buried memories, or the strangeness of his stuttering, piecemeal memory along the edge of the Abyss. 

They may well be tangled together, given how being thrown from the Endless Abyss memory sent him straight into one of the buried memories. There’s also the consideration that being thrown into the buried memories may have had something to do with Shizun being able to force himself awake. Luo Binghe needs to make a closer examination before he can make a judgment call on that one. 

The other consideration is how long it will take to detangle the buried memories. Luo Binghe can't tell the extent of them until he commits to digging through them. There could be a bare few of them, easy enough to excavate and examine in one night, or there could be an entire burial ground of them. 

(None of this even touches on the locked memories, the ones Luo Binghe can just barely sense the edges of, even with his two centuries of practice at the dream arts. That is going to take a delicate hand, a lot of time, and possibly Shizun’s knowing consent.)

Theoretically, Luo Binghe could order Meng Mo to go after the buried memories. His old mentor is capable of digging through minds even when the targets are awake, and unlike Luo Binghe, he isn't constrained by the need to be asleep. Much though Luo Binghe dislikes the idea of allowing Meng Mo access to Shizun like that, he knows Meng Mo wouldn't dare disobey him or harm what’s his.

So then, with all that in mind, the best choice is to go back to that Abyss memory. 

Luo Binghe carefully teases it out from Shizun's mind. He's even more cautious about sectioning Shizun's sleeping mind away from this memory than he was previously. It's thankfully simple to accomplish with the drugs in Shizun's system. Shizun is deep down in his mind already, nearly below the realm of dreams, drifting in the darkness of his subconscious. All Luo Binghe has to do is add a few soft, albeit heavy, layers on top of him, in order to keep his mind from trying to surface. 

Then he turns his attention to the memory in question. 

He places himself in the meadow with the Thousand-Leaves Fresh Snow Lotus, just before the Endless Abyss opens. The earth shakes when it does, Shen Qingqiu, Shang Qinghua, and the imposter child swaying from the force of it. Even in the memory, Luo Binghe can feel the oppressive weight of the demonic qi in the air as creatures flee from the Abyss' opening. 

Mobei-Jun appears. Shang Qinghua, fool that he is, pretends to confront his master and is slammed against a tree for his efforts. Shizun and the imposter child attempt to fight. Zheng Yang shatters. Shizun slams against a tree of his own, unable to do anything but watch helplessly as the imposter child’s cradle seal is broken. 

Mobei-Jun departs. 

Shizun sits there for a frozen moment, and then he flinches—

Shizun's hand slides off the imposter child’s back. He coughs up a mouthful of blood, leaning over to the side to express it. The imposter child’s eyes clear, awareness returning. 

Luo Binghe frowns. 

He pulls the memory back. 

Mobei-Jun departs. 

Shizun sits there for a frozen moment, and then he flinches, eyes darting toward—

Shizun's hand slides off the imposter child’s back. 

Luo Binghe stands there, his arms folded against his chest, fingers drumming as he thinks. He pulls the memory back a second time, watching intently. 

Mobei-Jun departs.

Shizun sits there for a frozen moment, and then he flinches, eyes darting toward his right, flicking over—

Shizun's hand slides off the imposter child’s back. 

This time, Luo Binghe allows the memory to keep playing. He listens with half an ear to the confrontation that he already knows by heart while he circles around Shizun's memory avatar. He peeks over Shizun's shoulder, looking toward the right as Shizun had. 

Nothing. 

Not right now, anyway. 

He paces behind Shizun as he backs the imposter child up to the edge of the cliff. Xiu Ya stabs forward. The imposter child doesn't dodge.

This is where Luo Binghe lost control last time. This is where Shizun somehow broke free. Shizun's sleeping mind isn't here this time to interfere, so Luo Binghe is able to watch the faint tremor that runs through Shizun as his sword digs into the imposter child’s chest. 

"Shizun," the imposter child says, his voice nearly covered by the sound of—

Shizun's arm is outstretched. The imposter child is nearly out of sight already, free falling deep in the Abyss.

Shizun stands there at the edge of the Abyss, implacable. He stares straight ahead, acknowledging nothing—

Shizun is kneeling in the clearing where they fought Mobei-Jun. The Abyss is sealed behind him. Carefully, purposefully, Shizun collects each piece of Zheng Yang, setting them down together on his outspread outer robe. When he is finished, some time later, he folds the robe, tucking its edges delicately around the shards. It is only the hilt that he keeps free, fingers running along the embossed design of it over and over again, nothing so much as a self-soothing motion. 

Other cultivators slowly trickle into the clearing. Shizun hardly seems to notice them. His fingers trace Zheng Yang's hilt. Up and down, up and down, up and down. 

Luo Binghe crouches in front of him. Shizun can't see him, of course, not when he's only a memory. 

"Why did you do it?" he asks Shizun rhetorically. 

Why is his memory so strangely damaged?

And what—or who—caused it?

This is no kind of damage that Luo Binghe has seen before. If, indeed, it’s damage at all. Pieces of the memory have been removed. 

No, not removed. They're still there, Luo Binghe is sure of it. It's only that Luo Binghe is being prevented from seeing them. 

Each time he rewound the memory, he could see a flicker more of whatever was being kept hidden. What Luo Binghe needs to do is find the root cause of the disruption and bring it under his control. That way he can see the clear, untarnished memory—and check if anyone else has interfered in Shizun's memories. 

Luo Binghe is the only one allowed to do that. 

He's confident in assuming Shizun didn't do this to himself. It's nonsensical. The memory obviously pains him severely, even two years hence. If he wanted to erase it from his mind, if he wanted to spare himself the grief of remembering what he did, he would have gotten rid of the entirety of it, rather than piecemeal parts that don’t even hide the worst of it. 

Not to mention the way he flinched, just before the memory darted over whatever Luo Binghe isn't meant to see—or, perhaps, whatever Shen Qingqiu isn't meant to remember. 

Someone did this to Shizun.

Luo Binghe is going to keep them from ever doing it again.

Shizun belongs to him. 

Luo Binghe sends the memory back to its start, and begins the long process of teasing apart the threads of Shizun's missing memory. 

Chapter Text

Luo Binghe wakes the next morning feeling distinctly unsatisfied. He didn’t make near as much progress as he would have liked.

Who- or whatever is binding Shizun’s memory, it’s determined to hide itself from Luo Binghe. The best he managed to discover was a bare glimpse of bright, unnaturally blue light, and a garbled voice speaking in a tone unlike anything else he’s ever heard.

Everything to do with Shizun keeps leading Luo Binghe into the pitfalls of overconfidence. He thought he so clearly knew how to get back to the original kind Shizun, and he didn’t. He thought it would be easy, with Xin Mo, to find another world with a kind Shizun, and it instead took him years of searching. He thought he would be able to pull apart Shizun’s memory, find the answers eluding him, and have time to at least scratch at the surface of those buried memories—yet he spent the whole night focusing on one tiny section of the Abyss memory and has barely anything to show for it.

In addition to that, he had to be careful that he didn’t tear apart Shizun’s mind while trying to find the answers. Force obviously wasn’t the solution, not if he didn’t want to lose his kind Shizun right after he finally found him; it was exceedingly delicate work, trying to grab at near invisible threads and hold them just tightly enough to keep them from slipping from his grasp while he searched for the next threads to pull apart.

It was not unlike trying to braid another’s hair for the first time, except with significantly finer and more numerous strands to handle. If he pulled too hard, it wouldn’t be a tender scalp left in his wake, but a mind damaged, perhaps irreparably.

As the Sweet-Bane Valerian wore off through the night, Shizun’s mind grew closer to the repeating memory, despite all the layers of dream magic Luo Binghe dropped on top of him. The Immortal Alliance Conference left scars on Shizun’s mind, so the memory inexorably drew him toward it, no matter how hard Luo Binghe fought to keep Shizun away from it.

In the end, Luo Binghe was forced to—at least temporarily—let go of the Immortal Alliance Conference, lest he distress Shizun’s dreaming mind as he did previously. He dispersed the memory back into the firmament of Shizun’s mind. In its place, he span soft, formless dreams for Shizun’s mind to relax inside of, the kind that no one ever remembers in the morning except as the idea of comfort.

Luo Binghe can’t have Shizun being afraid of him, or associating his touch with either pain or distress. This holds true for Shizun’s conscious mind just as much as it does for his dreaming one. Shizun, mind or body, will flinch back from him, will guard himself against him, if he does even perceived damage to it.

The Dream Realm is a finicky thing. It’s going to be difficult unraveling this puzzle, if Shizun is so sensitive toward this memory in particular.

Now awake, Luo Binghe sits in bed, contemplating the research that he’ll need to do. He’s never heard of such a—such a what? Talisman? Array? Spirit? Monster? Plant?

The possibilities for what could have caused this are near infinite. He doesn’t have enough details. The garbled voice implies a person or being is behind this, but perhaps that’s only how Shizun’s senses interpret whatever is happening in those missing portions of the memory. He’s assuming that Shizun does remember them, that they’re only hidden from Luo Binghe rather than from Shizun, too, but is he sure of that? Is that part of Shizun’s distress, that he can’t even recall why he did what he did?

…It would certainly go a long way to explain his grief, black and endless, after the Immortal Alliance Conference.

Luo Binghe will have to go through his memories again. When did this start, if not at the Immortal Alliance Conference? Are there other hints inside Shizun's mind? Ones that would point Luo Binghe in the proper direction for his research? 

There are…too many possibilities. 

For now, though, what’s important is Shizun's breakfast. Luo Binghe wrapped Shizun in soft dreams before he woke himself, but only traces of the Sweet-Bane Valerian remain unmetabolized. Shizun will be close to surfacing from his drugged sleep. Perhaps another shichen, given how genuinely exhausted he seemed beneath the sleeping aid.

Shizun will be hungry when he wakes. Luo Binghe should prepare food for him. He can spin any more threads of thought regarding Shizun’s missing memory outwards as he works.

Luo Binghe hauls himself out of bed and heads to the kitchens to do precisely that. 

Breakfast is a quiet affair, Shizun stiffly silent. Luo Binghe allowed him plenty of time to make use of the baths, should he wish it, though he’s well aware Shizun refused to do so. He stayed stubbornly inside the main portion of his bedroom, only changing his clothes. Luo Binghe allowed him to do so, beckoning him out when it was clear that Shizun wasn’t going to emerge of his own volition.

Eating is nonnegotiable. Luo Binghe has allowed Shizun to keep the use of his cultivation, but he refuses to allow inedia, not when Shizun has already spent far too long utilizing it. Like his lack of sleep, Shizun’s body isn’t happy about missing meals.

If nothing else, Luo Binghe is going to take better care of Shizun than Cang Qiong ever managed.

In light of that, Luo Binghe allows Shizun his anger, his cautious avoidance, his hesitance, the last of which is barely disguised by a regal disdain that is nowhere near as cutting as the Shen Qingqiu under whose heel Luo Binghe grew up. Trust will come, in time. Luo Binghe has to allow Shizun at least some control over his situation, or he’ll never come to Luo Binghe of his own free—hopefully enthusiastic—will.

After breakfast is done with, Luo Binghe settles himself contently on one of the divans in Shizun’s front room. He watches Shizun’s long, graceful fingers dance along the strings of the qin as he listens to the soft melodies Shizun masterfully weaves.

Luo Binghe never had much opportunity to hear Shizun play when he was a disciple. Though Shizun would perform for his classes, that was largely a privilege reserved for the senior disciples whose classes Shizun taught. Luo Binghe spent rather too much time being punished, or missing classes due to the chores assigned him by his fellow disciples, to have heard many of Shizun's performances. 

Ning Yingying, he knows, was often granted private performances. Private lessons. For all of Luo Binghe's accusations, he still isn't sure whether Shen Qingqiu ever actually behaved inappropriately with Yingying during those times. Yingying herself never said—but she didn’t refute his accusations, either.

Whatever the truth was, it hadn't mattered for Shen Qingqiu’s trial. Even the suspicion was enough to further condemn him, though Luo Binghe had made certain that none of the accusations would fall negatively upon Ning Yingying’s reputation.

So, here and now, being able to watch Shizun’s performance is glorious. He isn’t actually performing, of course, instead using it as an excuse to avoid Luo Binghe. His intentions don’t change how Luo Binghe feels about it, which is that Shizun is playing for him.

Shizun is elegance personified as he plays, his fingers moving steadily along the strings, his hair a streak of midnight as it falls down his back and pools behind him. Luo Binghe watches, eyes half-lidded, as the extra tension seeps out of Shizun. A tiny, unconscious smile forms on Shizun’s lips; not even a bodhisattva could compare to him.

The moment is ruined by a knock at the door.

It's not wholly unexpected, in light of all the servants making mental notes of his presence last night. That doesn't stop Luo Binghe, standing outside Shizun’s quarters, from listening to the report given to him in a cold and furious silence. The messenger wilts under Luo Binghe’s unimpressed gaze, hunching further in on themself as the report continues until their voice is barely more than a whisper.

Good. Luo Binghe tries to make a habit of keeping his messengers alive. In the direst necessity, when he needs to send a certain message of his own, he tends to kill his enemy’s messengers. That doesn’t mean any of his messengers are safe from Luo Binghe’s general ire. Besides, there are always ways for them to overstep: Luo Binghe has killed no few members of his own messenger corps over the decades, for being traitors, saboteurs, assassins, or worse.

Obviously he needs to make it clear to his court and the sycophants inside his palace that, going forward, he will be tolerating few of these presumptuous demands on his time.

That's the point of him having delegated so many of his duties. 

Frankly, after two centuries, the Three Realms shouldn't need as much supervision as they demand from him. Admittedly, it’s largely his courtiers who all run around as if they're Thrice-Singing Chickens with their heads cut off—specifically the human courtiers. They hate having to listen to Mobei-Jun or Hualing when it comes to command decisions, always crawling their way to Luo Binghe instead. 

Luo Binghe will be sure to let his displeasure at this state of affairs be known. 

For now, he allows himself to be drawn away from Shizun. He'll be back soon enough. 

Answering petitions and restoring his court to order takes more of the day than Luo Binghe prefers. There's more to be done tomorrow; if he's being frank, he'll need to spend weeks, if not months, going through the past several years’ worth of court functions to make sure everything has been running as it should. 

Luo Binghe has been...a rather lax ruler since the imposter first crossed over to this world. 

Much as he would love to simply hand off the clean-up to the likes of Hualing, Luo Binghe knows it's a terrible idea. He needs to clean this up himself, the better to protect Shizun going forward. Not to mention, the better a realm to give his empress when he officially ascends to the position. 

Luo Binghe realizes, after he calls for a halt to the day at court and begins putting together Shizun's dinner, that he neglected to make sure Shizun's midday meal was provided for. He nearly cracks the bowl he's holding. 

Shizun's health is the priority. For him to neglect himself is one thing, but Shizun will not—should not—have to suffer inedia because of Luo Binghe's inadequacies. Was he not thinking only this morning how important it was that Shizun be taken care of? That Luo Binghe would do better than all those fools who had him in their custody before?  

Luo Binghe finishes putting the dinner together, striding quickly through the halls to Shizun's chambers. On the way, he concentrates, feeling out to his blood parasites for a report on Shizun's health and general state of being. 

Shizun is meditating. No problems with his health. Without-A-Cure remains quiescent in his veins. 

That’s a relief.

Luo Binghe needs to get his hands on Shizun’s medicine. To do that, he needs a trustworthy apothecary or healer—and a talented one, at that. No one has ever survived so long while poisoned by Without-A-Cure; most demons would never have thought it possible in the first place. It’s a death sentence.

Only a golden core cultivator would have been able to cling to life until a healer could get to them. Only the likes of Mu Qingfang could have then kept the victim alive, coming up with a medicine that would dampen the effects of the poison. It almost makes Luo Binghe wish he hadn’t killed his world’s Mu Qingfang back then. His assistance would be invaluable now.

On the other hand, a once-in-a-millennium healer of Mu Qingfang’s talent isn’t strictly needed here. A different Mu Qingfang has already done the hard work of coming up with the medicine in the first place. Admittedly, creating the medicine isn’t possible for a novice, by Luo Binghe’s understanding of the recipe he thieved from Mu Qingfang’s mind. Fortunately, there are healers aplenty throughout his empire. One of them will be able to mix the medicine, if perhaps not quite as well as its creator could.

The medicine won’t be necessary in the long term. He’ll monitor Shizun carefully until he’s found the needed apothecary, and he’ll bolster Shizun’s health where he can, but it will all be resolved in the end.

Luo Binghe will cure Shizun wholly, sooner rather than later.

In the meantime, Luo Binghe allows Shizun to retreat from him once dinner is over, no matter how the separation aches. He watches Shizun until the moment the door closes between them. He feels Shizun settle on his bed, his body’s rhythms slipping back into the slow ones which speak of meditation.

…Hm. He'll have to keep an eye on that. Shizun won't be able to avoid sleep forever, but however much it helped Luo Binghe to access Shizun's dream realm while he was in a drugged sleep, he can't drug Shizun again. Not if he wants Shizun to trust him. 

No, he'll have to keep an eye on Shizun, taking advantage of those times he does sleep. He's already resolved to try and find another memory that might be suffering from the same problems as the Abyss memory. One that hopefully won't be so emotionally charged that Luo Binghe can't keep out Shizun's dreaming mind while he does his work. 

Ah, well. Shizun won’t be going anywhere tonight. If he slips into sleep, Luo Binghe will be able to tell, and he’ll be ready and willing to take action. Until then, it’s best if Luo Binghe begins his research.

He’s well accustomed to doing such work for his wives. He has already spent plenty of his time on this quest to find his empress. To be assured of his safety and his health is only a husband’s duty.

(To sate his own curiosity factors into it only so much as it helps him to understand his empress, and stops Luo Binghe from ever repeating the same mistakes that he made with the original kind Shizun.

Luo Binghe will be gentle with his most beloved of wives, his only husband, his empress—but he is no fool, either.

He will not allow this to be his own ruin.)

Luo Binghe leaves Shizun’s rooms. He’ll start with Meng Mo first, to find out if he’s ever seen this kind of interference in someone’s memories before. If not, then Luo Binghe will begin investigating curses before he branches out to other, more unlikely causes.

There have to be answers somewhere.

He won’t stop until he finds them.

Unsurprisingly, there are no easy answers to be found. It took Luo Binghe most of his very long life to even become aware of the original kind Shizun; it took another several years to find one of his own to steal away. The kind Shizun is always so deeply complicated—he makes Luo Binghe work for what he gains, instead of merely being handed to him, like so many of his conquests have been.

Meng Mo has no solid answers for him when Luo Binghe presses. The old demon has regained much of his strength over the two centuries of Luo Binghe’s life; though he sends himself out into the world in ways he never did in Luo Binghe’s youth, there is still a tidy corner of Luo Binghe’s mind apportioned for him.

Luo Binghe is long since a dream master in his own right. In many ways, he’s surpassed all the teachings from the Dream Demon. However, Meng Mo is old. Over a thousand to Luo Binghe’s two hundred and change: there’s all manner of curses and demons and lives that Meng Mo has seen. His use is no longer in the lessons he can teach, but in the sheer breadth of information he has at his disposal, a repository equally as valuable as Luo Binghe’s libraries, with so very little of it written down.

Meng Mo is advisor and spy and resource for Luo Binghe’s empire…and he is absolutely useless when it comes to Luo Binghe’s empress.

“Huh,” Meng Mo says, circling around the currently-frozen recreation of Shizun’s memory. His spindly fingers reach out, pinching at the weave of the dream, tugging it backward and forward in time. He peers at the captured blue-white light, faithfully picks at the skipping of the memory, and says, “This elder has never seen the like.”

“Tch,” Luo Binghe says. “What use are you, then?”

“Brat!” Meng Mo bites back. “I wasn’t finished yet!”

“Well?” Luo Binghe presses. 

“I’m sure you’ve noticed, but whatever it is, it’s not natural. It’s very, very intentional, and meant to keep you out.”

Luo Binghe keeps his mouth shut by dint of severe effort, no matter how he wants to yell that of course he noticed that, he’s not a fool!

Meng Mo casts him a withering glare, obviously noticing this, before he adds, pointedly, “Whoever—or whatever—is doing this, they’re clumsy, but that’s mostly because they’re not present to actively resist. They left protections, but the power has degraded. You were able to pick away at it, and it wasn’t able to replenish itself. Don’t think you were anything other than lucky to begin prying when it happened to benefit your efforts!”

Luo Binghe stands a little straighter, despite this blatant denigration of his skills. He sees where Meng Mo is going with this.

“If this was worth protecting in the first place…whoever set those protections will be back.” Luo Binghe nods. That’s precisely what he was thinking. “…Set a trap for when they return,” Meng Mo suggests.  “When they do, rip them out.” A pause, before Meng Mo adds, “But maybe save a bit of them for me to examine. This elder is curious.”

Luo Binghe rolls his eyes and dismisses his old shifu. He’ll ask Meng Mo about digging up Shizun’s buried memories once their trap has gone off. Too much going on inside Shizun’s mind might alert his new-found enemy. He won’t allow for that until he’s able to fully route it, barring it entirely from Shizun’s mind forevermore.

It’s hard to decide what kind of trap to set when he doesn’t yet know the shape it should take. He knows so little about this enemy, this interloper in Shizun’s mind. He doesn’t know all it’s done to Shizun, nor will he until he’s had time to feel out more of Shizun’s memories, narrowing down the location where the interloper is hiding and which areas it’s affected.

Perhaps the best trap is one that will alert him to the interloper’s presence. It needn’t be one that contains the interloper—if Luo Binghe miscalculates, if his trap too weak and the interloper slips from his grasp, it may harm Shizun in recompense.

No, he needs a subtle trap. A snare that doesn’t aim for capture, but rather to tell Luo Binghe more about that which he faces. Once he has a sense of the interloper’s energies, once he knows the shape of it and its influence on Shizun, then he can figure out how to kill it.

Shizun isn’t within the Dream Realm once Luo Binghe finishes his talk with Meng Mo. Luo Binghe drifts there alone, deep in the flow of dreaming minds from the inhabitants of the Underground Palace, turning over possibilities when it comes to the interloper’s eventual destruction, but Shizun’s mind doesn’t touch the Dream Realm the whole night.

With a sigh, Luo Binghe eventually leaves the Dream Realm behind. Dawn will be approaching soon, his internal sense of time tells him. He’ll need to begin Shizun’s breakfast soon.

Soon—but not quite yet.

A flicker of qi is enough to light several of the night pearls decorating his bedroom, spreading a subtle glow across the expanse of it. He purposefully kept the light low, the heavy brocade curtains of his bed dimming it further. With his night vision, he doesn’t need much more than that to be able to see well enough.

Besides, his current goal isn’t dependent upon sight.

With one hand, he grabs the outer layer of the robes he took from Shizun, which he placed on his bed with him as he slept, Shizun’s scent surrounding him and following him down into sleep. With his other, he tugs his sleeping robes apart until he can shove that hand down the front of his pants, fisting himself eagerly.

It’s never difficult to get himself interested, especially when it comes to Shizun. With his scent surrounding him all night, Luo Binghe was already half hard when he woke. He strokes himself as he holds Shizun’s robes against his face, breathing deeply while wishing this was Shizun instead of merely his clothes.

Soon, Luo Binghe thinks, biting at his lower lip so hard he nearly bleeds. His hips jerk, his hand moving faster. He’s here now. Finally, we’re in the same world.

It won’t be much longer now.

(Even if it is, Shizun is worth the wait, no matter how often Luo Binghe has to take care of himself in the meantime. After all, if he does this right, he’ll have forever with Shizun.)

Breakfast is as carefully prepared as any of the other meals Luo Binghe has made for Shen Qingqiu. He selects a black tea from his stores that is very similar to the one Shen Qingqiu drank in the mornings with the imposter child. Apparently Shizun favors lighter teas as the day progresses, but he enjoys a bracing cup—or pot—in the mornings to wake himself.

Luo Binghe can’t wait until he is able to see Shen Qingqiu as sleep-mussed and soft as the imposter child was allowed to see him so many times. For now, he will have to find a way to regain Shizun’s trust, at least when it comes to drinking what he prepares. He should consider himself fortunate that Shizun hasn’t refused to eat entirely.

Then again, it’s a very pointed defiance that Shen Qingqiu directs his way. He’s too wary to outright go against Luo Binghe, so he slides around the edges of Luo Binghe’s quasi-orders in whatever small ways he can. It’s another facet of that strange terror he holds toward Luo Binghe, though Shizun obviously won’t allow himself to be cowed entirely.

If it weren’t for the circumstances, Luo Binghe would almost think it cute, the way Shizun half-heartedly fights against him. He’s curious how far it might go—if, for example, they might revisit such an attitude in sweeter circumstances, when Shizun is in his bed.

As it is, Luo Binghe would admire it much more if it weren’t treading on the ground of Shizun’s already fragile health. He can’t allow this to continue much longer. It would set a bad precedent on multiple levels.

With that in mind, Luo Binghe makes it a point to get Shen Qingqiu to drink during breakfast.

“If this lord swears not to drug the tea, will Shizun consent to drinking it again?” Luo Binghe asks. “Shizun will grow dehydrated eventually.”

The promise costs Luo Binghe nothing. He’s already resolved not to do so again. He has the beginnings of plans for how to trap the interloper. He’ll stay away from the Abyss memory as much as he’s able, focusing on less emotion-laden memories. He won’t need drugs again.

Shen Qingqiu, perhaps predictably, does not take this at face value.

“What promise could Lord Luo make that this master could believe?”

Ah. That pierces Luo Binghe. That single slipped ‘Binghe’ the first day was stolen from Shizun. Though it lit a fire inside him, though he immediately craved Shizun calling him so sweetly again, he’d made himself accept ‘Luo Binghe’ until Shen Qingqiu went willingly back to calling him so familiarly. Luo Binghe will make no demands on Shizun calling him such, not when it means so much more to have Shizun say it because he means it.

Still. To so abruptly have the formality of ‘Lord Luo’ between them—Luo Binghe dislikes it greatly.

He may have miscalculated with the tea.

It’s galling to realize, but he’ll simply have to work around it. What, indeed, would Shizun accept? What oath could Luo Binghe swear—more importantly, what could the imposter child swear?

Unbidden, Luo Binghe recalls Shizun kneeling next to the sealed Abyss, the way his fingers traced up and down Zheng Yang’s hilt. He also can’t help but remember the way Shizun threw himself from the middle of that same dream on Qing Jing Peak, only to run immediately to the sword mound he made of Zheng Yang’s remains.

Shizun has so neatly given him the answer here.

(Luo Binghe misses Zheng Yang on occasion. Right after he fell in the Abyss was the worst of it, for manifold reasons, not least of which how useful a sword would have been down there.

He missed it less as the years, then decades, passed: he built up his power, amassing a sprawling collection of all the powerful, coveted, and occasionally legendary swords in the land. Despite all that, there remains a part of him which longs for the way Zheng Yang fit so perfectly in his grip, the way it never fought him as Xin Mo does, the way things were so bright and simple then—

Tch. Base nostalgia. It was never so uncomplicated as all that. It’s why he put Cang Qiong to ash and ruin, isn’t it?

And yet.)

“Zheng Yang,” he says.

Luo Binghe wishes he could read all the thoughts flitting about behind Shizun’s cool mask. He can tell they’re there, even as he has no idea what they consist of. Then he knows it doesn’t matter when Shizun nudges his cup forward and allows Luo Binghe to fill it.

Silence falls between them for the rest of the meal, save the brief teasing remark Luo Binghe attempts to get Shen Qingqiu to relax. He’s too tensely wound up for that to work; Luo Binghe hadn’t really expected it to, in all honesty. Instead, he’s quickly wrapped up in trying not to preen at the steady, assessing look Shen Qingqiu levels his way.

A task made easier when Shizun’s brows furrow slightly, his fingers tensing against the teacup in his hand. Luo Binghe is immediately on alert. He meant the oath that he made: he hasn’t slipped drugs to Shizun, whether in food or in the tea. His blood parasites can read no echo of pain in Shizun’s body, nor anything wrong with it other than what he’s already noted, which isn’t what Luo Binghe would have expected from the stricken gaze Shizun fixes him with.

Then he realizes what, precisely, Shizun is looking at.

By all rights, Luo Binghe should have unraveled the braid long ago. At this point, it’s probably going to need to be cut out; Luo Binghe doubts there’s anyone in the world with the patience or ability to untangle the knotted mess it’s become.

He wonders what message Shen Qingqiu takes from it.

Luo Binghe decides to distract Shizun from whatever winding trail of thought he’s following. Whether it’s confusion (doubtful), thoughts of the imposter child (distasteful), or distress for reasons unknown to Binghe (unfortunately possible), there’s no need to allow Shizun this turmoil.

He deliberately allows their hands to brush together as he takes the teacup from Shizun’s grasp, lingering there briefly, hiding his disquiet at the cool feel of those fingers. He nudges his blood parasites to circulate more frequently toward Shizun’s extremities, forcefully moving Shizun’s blood if his body can’t accomplish it on its own.

None of that is enough to distract Luo Binghe from the way Shen Qingqiu reacts to even that simple brush of hands. Shizun pulls back—and not in a way that implies distaste or mistrust. While his reaction is nowhere near the same as when Luo Binghe dropped that innuendo during their first dinner together, it’s obvious how flustered he is.

Like a maiden, Luo Binghe thinks amusedly.

He doesn’t have time to track all the implications of that thought before Shizun is clearing his throat and asking, “What did Luo Binghe do with my other robes?”

Mm.

Well, he certainly isn't going to tell Shizun the truth about that.

...He doesn't particularly want to give those robes back, either. Not only because he enjoys having those bits of Shizun around him when he can’t have the man himself, but because of what the robes symbolize. They tie Shizun to Qing Jing Peak.

Luo Binghe had a grand assortment of new robes created for Shizun, not all of which he has presented to him just yet. Truthfully, he’s only outfitted Shizun’s bedroom with the bare minimum. The rest are held in reserve: those prepared in advance to be offered as courtship presents; those which are suitable for an empress rather than the merely court-formal robes which are in Shizun’s wardrobe currently; those in distinctly daring or elaborate demonic styles; risqué ones that will be reserved for Luo Binghe’s eyes (and bedroom floor) alone.

Currently Shizun wears one of the most basic sets Luo Binghe provided for him. They were obviously chosen for their subtle motif of the Four Gentlemen, which is about as close as Luo Binghe could come to allowing any sort of bamboo motif among Shizun’s clothes or new possessions.

They may, in however small a way, feature the bamboo motif Shizun favors—the bamboo of Qing Jing—but the robes are indisputably of the Demon Realm. The materials, the craftsmanship, even the cut (which, admittedly, is an extremely conservative one by demonic standards, though one that was often worn by Luo Binghe's cultivator wives)—all of it marks the fact that Shizun is his. 

He is no longer beholden to Cang Qiong. 

He is Luo Binghe's. 

The silence has stretched on almost too long before Luo Binghe says, "They're only being cleaned. This one will return them soon."

He hates to do even that much. Of course, giving back those robes doesn't mean he can't, ah, persuade Shen Qingqiu to wear other robes. Ones more befitting of his station. Luo Binghe can't wait to see him in court attire. More than that, he can't wait to gift Shen Qingqiu the lingerie he's hidden away in one of the wardrobes in what will—hopefully soon—be their shared marital chambers.

With that in mind, Luo Binghe barely contains a wolfish grin as he asks, "Does Shizun not care for the clothes this lord has provided?" 

Shizun has no choice but to demur, of course. Luo Binghe wants to bite him—gently, but with strength enough that there will be no doubt as to whom Shen Qingqiu belongs. When they're wedded—ah, when they're wedded!

"Shizun will want for nothing while he is here," Luo Binghe promises him aloud. "I will make sure of it."

His husband will keep him very satisfied indeed. 

It's evidently too much to ask for his court to handle themselves, so Luo Binghe ends up having to leave Shizun once more to handle fucking territory disputes of all things. He nearly kills all parties involved just to be done with it. 

He's pretty sure that he ends up being the one called in to handle this because none of the delegates will consent to laying out their grievances in front of Mobei-Jun or Sha Hualing.

These two particular demon tribes have been a thorn in his side for decades now. It’s not that they’re dangerous or resist his rule or the like—no, it’s that they’re so. Damned. Annoying.

The White Opal Staining Rabbit tribe has been entangled in a blood feud with the Black Opal Staining Rabbit tribe for time immemorial. To them, anyway. In truth, it’s been a bit over a century, but both tribes breed so quickly and have such short life spans (only five years at the very most, and to Luo Binghe’s understanding, that’s relatively rare) that the generations quickly build up. He’s pretty sure none of them even remember why they started fighting each other to begin with, though their current quarrel is over territory.

Luo Binghe rests his chin on his fist as he listens, bored and distinctly annoyed, to the two ambassadors give impassioned arguments about their ongoing nonsense. Something about the various warrens on both sides becoming overcrowded, resources faltering in the face of having to support both tribes in such close proximity; a population boom occurred in the aftermath of their most recent war—well, if the cowardly White Opal tribe hadn’t assassinated our top general it wouldn’t have started—well, if the duplicitous Black Opal tribe hadn’t bridenapped several of our does—well, if the White Opal tribe wasn’t keeping them captive—well, well, well—

“Shut up,” Luo Binghe says.

Wisely, the ambassadors do. Which doesn’t stop them glaring at each other; as soon as they exit Luo Binghe’s field of view, he’s sure they’ll end up in an outright brawl.

Given the lifespan of these demons, the turnover rate for their ambassadors is high. The ambassadors occasionally make it to the fabled five years of age, safely tucked away in Luo Binghe’s court as they are—but that’s only if they aren’t killed in the fighting when they occasionally journey back to their home warrens. And only if they avoid assassinations at court, usually accomplished in part by getting along, in however shallow a way, with their fellow ambassador.

These two don’t.

This is, in point of fact, the first time Luo Binghe has met either of them. They weren’t yet born when Luo Binghe crossed over to the original kind Shizun’s world. Even when Luo Binghe was at court, taking short breaks from his search, the ambassadors never crossed paths with him.

Evidently they took it upon themselves to force a meeting. Mobei-Jun or Sha Hualing weren’t sufficient: only Junshang himself could handle it.

Unfortunately, Junshang doesn’t want to. Especially when these idiots can’t stop squabbling for long enough to present their case(s), and especially not when he could be spending time with Shizun.

“This lord will grant you time to discuss the details among yourselves, so that you may present them coherently and succinctly to this lord instead of wasting his time,” Luo Binghe says. When they look mutinous—perhaps the closest they’ve managed in regards to ‘getting along’ during this whole court session—Luo Binghe growls, “Be grateful this lord will allow the ambassadors another chance at all rather than replacing them outright. Get out.”

The Black Opal ambassador thumps his foot once, twice, then hurriedly flees, robes swirling behind him as he goes. The White Opal ambassador remains in place a moment longer than his fellow, his long, furred ears pulled back and head raised, before following.

Those two dealt with, Luo Binghe suffers through several more audiences that truly could have been delegated to Sha Hualing's competent hands. Then he calls for a recess.

He purposefully does not say how long that recess will be. He may come back later, he may not. Let the delegates—especially the two Opal Staining Rabbit tribe ambassadors—enjoy having their time wasted as much as they have wasted his own. The smartest petitioners will have already sought out more willing ears to hear their pleas.

Luo Binghe wishes to make a beeline straight for Shen Qingqiu, but he holds off. He stops by his rooms first.

He has not, in point of fact, washed Shizun's robes. They're still on his bed, spread out across his covers in the nest he made of them. He did promise Shizun he would return them, he supposes. It’s for best to keep any of the promises that he makes to Shizun, especially this early on.

Luo Binghe doesn't have time to properly tend to Shizun's robes. Instead, he steps from his bedroom into his personal bathing pool, a mirror to the one in Shizun’s quarters, though decorated with dragons rather than phoenixes. The water in the baths are far too hot for silks, but they’ll have to do.

He sketches out a talisman that will temporarily chill the water, at least enough that it won’t damage Shizun’s silks. Following that, he uses an advanced cleaning talisman in the absence of the proper soaps. Combined with the arrays set in the baths themselves, which are meant to remove impurities, it’s a decent enough job once he finishes drying them with qi.

It itches at Luo Binghe. The robes are clean now, yes, but it’s not done as well as it could be done. He keeps doing the bare minimum. For a man with as much power and skill and determination as Luo Binghe, he should be able to do more. Shizun deserves all the care Luo Binghe can give to him, not to have shortcuts taken.

Next time, he promises himself, next time I’ll do better.

He neatly folds the robes, stacking them from inner to outer layers. He pauses in the midst of folding Shizun’s outermost robes, rubbing his fingers together on the long sleeves, contemplating the spark of qi that speaks to the qiankun space inside them. Then he finishes folding them, gathers them together, and heads to Shizun's rooms.

He doubts there's anything within them that Shizun could use against him, but if there is? Let him try. Shizun is clever. Luo Binghe is almost curious to see what he’ll come up with. Better to let him come up with little distractions for himself so as to keep him from working himself up at the idea of being trapped. Always leave an escape route. By the time Shen Qingqiu realizes that there is no escape, he will already be thoroughly enmeshed in Luo Binghe’s life and court. He won't want to leave, if Luo Binghe does this right.

Luo Binghe has full faith in himself to seduce Shizun. it may take some time, yes, but it will happen.

Of that he is assured.

In the meantime, he slips into Shizun's quarters, passing through the front room as he follows the gentle call of his blood parasites to the bedroom. Thanks to them, he knows what he's going to see before he even cracks the door open: Shizun, sprawled out atop his bed, fast asleep.

Delicately, Luo Binghe pulls an extra layer of sleep over Shizun using his dream magic. It's more difficult to do while he's awake, though far from impossible—especially when the target is already asleep. If, on the other hand, he were trying to access Shizun's dreams? That would be impossible while awake, even for a demon of Luo Binghe's skill and experience.

That’s alright. Digging through Shizun’s mind isn’t the goal here. Even with Luo Binghe’s help, Shizun’s nap won’t send him deep enough into sleep for Luo Binghe to get anywhere, on top of the fact that technically Luo Binghe’s called-for recess won’t grant him enough time.

He has enough time to indulge himself, though. If his indulgence extends the recess precipitously—well, he’s Junshang. No one would dare to call him out on it, and his stupid courtiers deserve it for ripping him from Shizun’s side in the first place. 

After a moment's careful consideration, Luo Binghe pulls a second layer of sleep over Shizun's mind. It leaves him deep enough that Luo Binghe feels confident slipping fully into the room rather than hovering in the doorway. He places the laundered robes in Shizun’s wardrobe, pushing them toward the back in a subtle discouragement, albeit one he fully expects Shizun to disregard. Then he sidles toward the bed.

In sleep, Shen Qingqiu's face is relaxed and soft. He mustn't have intended to take a midday nap, given that his hair is pulled up and held in place by—hmph. By the same guan he was wearing when he arrived at the Underground Palace. Obviously Luo Binghe made a mistake not taking that from Shizun along with the rest of his clothes; he placed it on the vanity with the others and later overlooked Shizun wearing it, too caught up in seeing Shizun wearing the robes he commissioned.

Said robes are another sign that Shizun didn’t mean to fall asleep. He hasn’t removed any of his layers, nor his belt. He’s not even under the covers, though through his blood parasites, Luo Binghe can tell Shizun would appreciate the added warmth that would have provided him. Soon enough that lack might have pulled Shizun from his sleep, were it not for Luo Binghe's interference.

He’ll interfere a bit further.

Luo Binghe opens the chest at the foot of the bed, pulling a light blanket from it and draping it over Shizun. Then he makes himself comfortable on the bed, leaning against the headboard and drawing Shizun's head into his lap. He carefully monitors the layers of sleep he's pulled over Shizun, waiting to see if this is enough movement to necessitate pulling another layer over Shizun's dreaming mind.

Perhaps that's why he spots it.

He hasn't had time to create the trap that he and Meng Mo discussed. Shizun didn’t sleep last night, after all; there were no opportunities for Luo Binghe to make use of. Like this, however—with Luo Binghe's parasites, with his dream magic, with his body in physical contact with Shen Qingqiu—Luo Binghe feels the faintest of sparks. Barely more than a shudder, the slightest movement to represent a paradigm shift.

An echo of power moves through Shen Qingqiu, and Luo Binghe recognizes it.

Inexplicable things happen to Luo Binghe. He's well acquainted with that part of his life. Yet of all the inexplicable events to occur...he never understood how the original kind Shizun ended up in his dreamscape. 

If he'd known then what he knows now, he would never have hurt Shizun like that. At the time, he knew the man inside his dream was no avatar of his own dreaming mind. Luo Binghe wasn’t stupid enough to attack himself like that. He didn’t put much thought into it, though. He assumed Shizun was a wandering spirit who chose a particularly unlucky form. Perhaps, at most, he was the unquiet ghost of the Shen Qingqiu Luo Binghe grew up with, trapped in the palace where he died and unintentionally drawn into Luo Binghe's dreamscape.

Yet even then, a part of Luo Binghe knew it was strange. There was a reason he never found an answer to it, at least until he crossed into that other world. Then he found all his answers as to why Shizun behaved so differently in that dream.

But in realizing that, he had neglected another, equally important question:

How did Shizun end up in that dream in the first place?

They were in entirely separate worlds. Luo Binghe had done nothing particularly straining with Xin Mo recently, nothing that would have called between the worlds for the original kind Shizun. Nor had he even been thinking about Shen Qingqiu recently. The man was nearly two centuries dead, Luo Binghe's wrath and thirst for revenge slaked after copious, well-deserved, thorough torture.

Which isn’t to say that Luo Binghe hadn't leapt at the chance to tear apart that facsimile of Shen Qingqiu once more, only learning later to regret it. He had enjoyed it immensely at the time, though that pleasurable experience was ripped away from him far too quickly.

Ripped away from him...with a twist of power that felt uncannily similar to that which he feels within Shizun right here and now.

Luo Binghe allows no sign of this realization to make itself evident. Not in tensing his body, not in curling his hands tighter in Shizun's hair, not in smirking—no, none of it.

Yet to himself, vicious and darkly satisfied, he thinks, I've found you now, interloper.

He turns to other tasks then, only in part to disguise his sudden revelation. He'll chase down that thread later. For now, he's concerned with easing Shizun's hair out of the guan holding it up. It's not particularly comfortable, digging into Luo Binghe's thighs as it is; he can't imagine it feels any better to Shizun himself, asleep though he may be.

Humming lightly, Luo Binghe sets it off to the side. Then he lavishes his attention on Shen Qingqiu's hair. He braided it the other night, yes, but he didn't take the time to appreciate how silky smooth it is, running through his fingers like water. It's deeply relaxing to sit there, carding through Shizun's hair, reveling in the body heat of the man lying half on top of him.

Gradually, Luo Binghe draws back the layers of sleep he pulled over Shizun. The nebulous feel of the interloper lightens but doesn’t fade entirely as Luo Binghe loosens his grasp on Shizun's mind. Oh no, Luo Binghe has its scent now. It won't be getting away from him.

Luo Binghe will have great fun tearing it apart.

Even when all the layers of dream magic have been lifted, Luo Binghe doesn’t pull away. He stays precisely where he is, luxuriating in the closeness. Left only to natural sleep, Shizun quickly begins to waken.

Luo Binghe has the pleasure of watching Shen Qingqiu begin to stir. The way he frowns very slightly, obviously dissatisfied to have to wake, then the way he contentedly nuzzles into Luo Binghe's thigh, a near inaudible hum of pleasure making its way from him as Luo Binghe slides his fingers through his hair again, scratching lightly along his skull.

And then Luo Binghe watches as Shen Qingqiu throws himself into wakefulness and across half the bed besides, looking like nothing so much as—

Luo Binghe's thoughts override any attention he pays to the rest of the conversation with Shen Qingqiu. He allows himself to be banished from Shen Qingqiu's rooms. He does not return to the audience chamber. He has more important thoughts to handle first, such as the one that he interrupted himself from completing. A thought so similar to the one at breakfast this morning:

Shizun looked like nothing so much as a bullied young maiden.

Luo Binghe could understand if he had been angry—and he was, to a degree, but it had the certain tinge to it of embarrassment. Of innocence. Luo Binghe is deeply familiar with that look, having seen it painted on the faces of more than a few of the young women who tripped their way across his path over the long years of his life. He would swear Shizun looked at him in the same way.

That doesn't make any sense. Shizun is the furthest thing from a virgin, he's sure of it. Shen Qingqiu spent all that time in the brothels!

Except...

The kind Shizun is different from Shen Qingqiu. That qi deviation changed him. In all the years of memories Luo Binghe examined, he hadn't been to the brothels even once. The imposter child certainly would have made a fuss about it if he had; Luo Binghe knows himself well enough to be sure of that.

The Shen Qingqiu Luo Binghe grew up with went regularly: at least once a month, if not more. Luo Binghe hasn’t yet seen any memories from before Shizun’s qi deviation. It’s entirely possible that before the qi deviation, Shizun may have also visited the brothels—but Luo Binghe can't seem to reconcile that idea with the man currently living in his palace.

Regardless, it’s undeniably a fact that whatever Shizun may or may not have done before his qi deviation, right now he doesn’t remember having ever tumbled another. Nor did he seek it out after the deviation. 

In point of fact...

Luo Binghe hadn't examined all Shizun’s memories closely, mostly focusing on Shizun’s interactions with the imposter child, but had Shizun ever even pleasured himself in the three years of those memories? Luo Binghe is confident that Shizun is attracted to him based on his reactions thus far, in addition to the original kind Shizun’s relationship with the imposter; he’s noted Shizun is attracted to men in general, going by the way he acted around Liu Qingge in his memories.

Yet he’s done absolutely nothing to act upon that attraction.

Good news for Luo Binghe, even while it raises a tantalizing prospect, one that Luo Binghe hadn’t before considered:

This kind Shizun...is he truly, so far as he knows or remembers…untouched?

Heat flares in Luo Binghe at the thought. He would wed Shizun and make him empress no matter what, but he can’t deny how enthralling this utterly unexpected gift is. Oh, oh, the thought of being Shizun's first—it sends shivers down his spine. He can barely contain himself at the thought of it. He so desperately wants to return to Shizun's bed and put it to its proper use: to claim Shizun, bringing him the kind of pleasure he has never yet known.

Patience, Luo Binghe thinks to himself, standing stock-still in the middle of his chambers as he wrestles for control of himself. Patience, patience, it will all be so much the sweeter when he comes to you willingly. 

It feels like such a horridly long way away, though. 

Perhaps...perhaps he can speed up the process. He doesn't necessarily have to solve the issue of Shizun's strange memories or the interloper twined inside him before they come together. Luo Binghe has no doubts in his abilities to be able to handle all parts of that situation: what he truly needs to focus on is getting Shizun to trust him, then wiggling his way through the boundaries between them, making his romantic intentions clear along the way.

The foundation of the original kind Shizun and the imposter’s relationship was steady, fully capable of withstanding even the massive earthquake that was Shizun’s betrayal at the Endless Abyss. Shizun and the imposter child’s relationship doesn’t seem to have been any different, which gives Luo Binghe a monstrous advantage here. All he has to do is prove that the foundation hasn’t been destroyed, that it’s fully ready to be built upon once more.

If he continues building upon it before Shizun realizes what he’s doing—well, he’s only being proactive. Shizun seems to appreciate that in his disciples.

Food, gifts, and entertainment he’s already provided Shizun. Luxury of all sorts belong to him, though for obvious reasons, Luo Binghe must keep his freedoms curtailed for the moment. Once Shizun has relaxed at least somewhat, he can consider showing Shizun around his new home.

Before that, he’ll simply accustom Shizun to his presence. He’ll accustom Shizun to his touch: Shizun leaned into it, before he fully woke, so it isn’t as though he’s touch averse, merely cautious and thin-faced. He can keep the touches chaste between them—“accidental” brushes of hands or bodies, settling close to him on one of the divans, taking on tasks of helping with Shizun’s robes or hair—until Shizun is accustomed to it.

He can keep the touches chaste.

Even if it means he’ll have to keep himself under tight control near Shizun. Even if he must retreat to his own quarters to take care of himself.

And speaking of…

Luo Binghe raises the hand he ran through Shizun’s hair up to his nose. Jasmine hair oil and the faint scent of Shizun cling to it. The sense-memory of Shizun’s silky locks running through his fingers, the sleepy and contented little noises he let out, the realization he’s had about Shizun’s (presumably) untouched state—all of it ricochets through him again.

…His stupid court can handle their issues on their own a little longer. Right now, Luo Binghe needs to handle himself.

When he finally returns to court, it’s to find that no, apparently they can’t handle their issues. The two Opal Staining Rabbit tribe ambassadors did not peaceably put their heads together. The White Opal ambassador killed the Black, fled the Underground Palace, and there’s already a talisman message waiting to inform Luo Binghe that the Opal Staining Rabbit territory dispute has blown up into an outright conflict, because everyone involved in it is an idiot.

Luo Binghe really should have killed the ambassadors, sent in his army to deal with the situation by force, and had done with it.

Chapter Text

Luo Binghe is an old hand at dividing his attention. Many an adventure has forced him to track down a wife while fighting his way through the forces trying to keep him from her. Sometimes those forces kept moving her, trying to flee from Luo Binghe's wrath while hoping their distractions would delay him for long enough.

They never did.

By comparison, keeping track of Shizun, a stationary target back at his fortified Underground Palace, is simple. He’s perfectly capable of devoting half his attention in Shizun’s direction, barely having to pay attention to the pitched battle going on around him. The wreckage of what used to be one of the White Opal tribe’s outlying warrens is spread out around—and under—him. Now all its inhabitants are dead, their bodies buried beneath the earth in the half-collapsed warren, leaving behind land that, in a few years and/or after the removal of the bodies, will likely be used as farmland. 

Well, the Combined Realms always need more farms. More food, to support all its inhabitants. Isn't that half of what the ambassadors were arguing about?

Luo Binghe is granting them their wishes. Separately, and at the same time.

He sighs heavily through his nose at the same moment that he swings Xin Mo, carving through the armor of the demon in front of him. The blade cuts through his next opponent easily, too, shrieking in glee. Fighting Opal Staining Rabbits was an adjustment at first: they’re half Luo Binghe’s height (even taking their long ears into account), surprisingly fast, with a strong bite for a species that doesn’t (usually) hunt for food. Several of Luo Binghe’s soldiers can attest to the lattermost, though Luo Binghe himself hasn’t fallen prey to such an undignified attack.

Theoretically, he could have calmed the situation down. He could have ended the war, separating the sides until he appointed new ambassadors. He could have drawn up a treaty between them, listened to their newest complaints, all of that—

It’s been a century of this nonsense, a constant cycle of fighting. Luo Binghe is putting a definitive end to it now. He and his army will kill enough warriors that they can’t start another war, nor even so much as a minor skirmish, before their population has recovered. By that time, Luo Binghe intends for these annoyances to have settled their differences, or he’ll make sure none of them remain to need those differences settled.

…Perhaps by removing one of the Opal Staining tribes to a wholly separate part of the Combined Realms. If they have to cross half the known world to fight each other then maybe they’ll give him a moment’s peace—or forget that they were fighting in the first place. They certainly forgot the reason, surely they can forget the war itself?

Regardless, taking part in this campaign soothes at least some of Luo Binghe’s deep annoyance, while making it clear to everyone that he is still Junshang. He’s lost none of his power, none of his martial capability, and no matter his absence, he expects his subjects to fear and obey him.

Xin Mo enjoys the battle, too. Glutton that it is, it’s not finished digesting all the energy it ate from the void, but Luo Binghe feeds it violence on top of that. Now that he’s dismissed his harem, he’ll need to keep a closer eye on Xin Mo, making sure it’s content with what it has. There are always monsters to hunt and minor rebellions to put down; he went hunting in some of the other worlds he visited, butchering little-missed animals or demons there. Just in case. 

There’s no way to tell how long the void energy will sate Xin Mo’s never-ending appetite. He doesn’t plan on visiting any of those worlds again, not now that he has Shizun. He can’t take chances, though. He won’t allow his sword to hurt Shizun—nor will he allow himself to harm Shizun by allowing Xin Mo to erode his control over himself.

He wants to be back at Shizun’s side already.

He can’t let this battle continue. For all the reasons that he already outlined, along with others: he let this situation spiral once before, so he must clean up his own mess; he doesn’t want Shizun to have to deal with this when he’s Empress; he doesn’t want any more distractions; and this particular explosive war begun between the Opal Staining Rabbit tribes has already spread outward to some of the settlements—human and demon alike—that are nearby.

None of the Opal Staining Rabbits are hard to kill. The difficult part is the way that they fight. Too many of them will duck inside narrow spaces that no regular sized demon is capable of fighting within, or they’ll run through any of the countless tunnels they’ve created in the land over the course of decades, until they pop up to attack from an unexpected direction.

Luo Binghe would be pleased if the Opal Staining Rabbit tribes teamed up in the face of a greater enemy (i.e. the Emperor’s army), because at least that way he might think peace is possible between them eventually. Instead they’re both continuing to fight their opposite tribe while also fighting Luo Binghe’s cohort.

Two fronts, guerrilla attacks, smaller opponents than most of his army face—it’s an absolute farce. It’s lasting far longer than Luo Binghe expected it might.

Already it’s been days.

Luo Binghe transported a large portion of his army to the Opal Staining Rabbit tribes’ territory via a mixed combination of Xin Mo and oversized transportation arrays—the common method for his army, well practiced after decades of using it—so it isn’t as though they lost any time via traveling. No, it’s the battles itself that won’t end.

The solemn oath Luo Binghe made to himself about doing better for Shizun has already been strained to the breaking point. He’s sent Shizun food every day, using a quick swipe of Xin Mo and subtle tracking arrays inscribed on the bottoms of his prepared dishes to make sure they land where they’re supposed to while he recalls the emptied dishes. He can’t even step through properly to do it, not when there could be another attack by the Opal Staining Rabbits at any moment.

He’s been balancing the foods that he provides to Shizun. The selection of personally made, mostly-prepared food in his qiankun pouch isn’t endless, so on occasion he’s had to send Shizun the meals provided for him by the camp cooks. Shizun needs it more than he does; Luo Binghe hasn’t been starving himself for two years, nor is he poisoned. He’s perfectly capable of practicing inedia, foraging, or taking “second” helpings from the communal pots. He does make sure at least one meal per day was made by his own hands, if only to be assured Shizun will eat it.

He worries about Without-A-Cure. He didn’t have a chance to find an apothecary that might be able to mix Shizun’s medicine properly. His own attempts aren’t worth speaking of—save for his blood parasites (and his abilities in bed), Luo Binghe is and always has been better at killing than any of the healing arts. Besides that, he fears wasting too many of the ingredients when he might need them on hand for a decent healer to quickly prepare.

Luo Binghe is a fool. He should have stolen from Shizun’s medicine stores before the two of them left that world. Missing medicine wouldn’t have told the Peak Lords any more than Shizun’s disappearance would have; it may have even disguised what occurred, if they thought Shizun perhaps snuck away on his own, taking his medicine with him as he did.

Without-A-Cure is not a poison to be trifled with.

Five days into the fighting, Luo Binghe’s worries are proven correct.

The distance between them dulls Luo Binghe's perception, but Luo Binghe has decades of practice deciphering what even the most distant feedback from his parasites tells him. Right now, they tell him there’s a sudden change in Shizun’s health: there is a spike of Shizun’s heart rate in a way that indicates pain; Luo Binghe’s parasites are working even harder than usual as they force Shizun’s blood to circulate; and he can feel, just barely, the way that Shizun's qi flow stutters inside his meridians before dying down in an entirely unnatural way.

Without-A-Cure. 

Luo Binghe has never had his parasites inside someone who was affected by it, especially not one whose Without-A-Cure is being held in remission by medicine. Truly, only Mu Qingfang could have accomplished such a feat. Qin Wanyue was struck by it before Luo Binghe’s seal was released; any of his wives who later came across it were quickly cured in the usual way. The sensation is unfamiliar to Luo Binghe, but he couldn’t mistake it for anything else. 

With a snarl, he sends out a sword glare, knocking several combatants in front of him off their feet. It gives him enough space to carve a portal in the air with Xin Mo. Hualing can manage the rest on her own. 

He leaps through, the portal neatly sealing itself behind him. Xin Mo hums in his hand, satisfied with the slaughter and drifting to a sword’s version of sleep as it continues to digest its recent feasts. Luo Binghe drops it on one of the low tables in Shizun’s front room. He'll clean the sword later. Like as not, it will absorb most of the blood coating its blade anyway, and thank him for the dessert accompanying its meal. 

Xin Mo doesn't matter to him right now. What matters is the man on the other side of the door that Luo Binghe barges through. 

Shizun is curled on his side in the middle of the room, as if he had been making his way to the door before his legs gave out beneath him and he crumpled to floor, thankfully landing atop one of the many rugs rather than cold stone. 

"Shizun!" Luo Binghe says in dismay. 

Shizun’s fingers curl in the rug, tugging at it in a way that implies he would be pulling himself upright if he only had the strength. His face, half-obscured by the curtain of his hair, has gone pale and clammy. There is a pinprick of blood lending a spot of color to his face, where he must have bitten his lip as he fell—or after, from the pain or the humiliation of lying helpless on the floor, utterly abandoned.

"Luo Binghe," Shizun says, voice paper thin. Luo Binghe is at his side before he can continue, sweeping him up into his arms. Shizun yelps, then slaps a hand over his mouth as if to swallow that noise back down. 

Luo Binghe carries Shizun to his bed. He's already sending his blood parasites throughout Shen Qingqiu's whole body, assessing what it means for Shizun to be in the middle of a flareup. It's both a physical and a spiritual poison, so fortunately there’s at least something Luo Binghe can do to dull the pain. And make no mistake, Shizun is in pain.

No matter how well disguised, Luo Binghe knows what pain looks like on this face.

He doesn't release Shizun once he's brought him to the bed, instead settling himself there right next to his beloved. He shouldn't have left Shizun for as long as he had. He cradles Shizun against him, sparing only a moment to tug at the half-made bed, untucking the covers so he can pull them halfway over Shizun.

"When is the last time Liu Qingge cleared your meridians?" Luo Binghe demands. From what he recalls of Shizun’s memories, it’s usually necessary once or twice a month, more if Shen Qingqiu has a flareup. Unless Liu Qingge visited on one of the rare occasions Luo Binghe was elsewhere on Qing Jing, setting up his preparations for taking Shizun home with him, he didn’t visit during the two weeks Luo Binghe was in the other world.

"Binghe!" Shizun protests. "What do you think you're—!”

Luo Binghe ignores him. Tucked against him like this, there's an easy loop of feedback between himself and Shizun, qi-sharing made simple by how entwined they are. The only thing better would be skin-to-skin contact. Luo Binghe feeds his qi into Shizun—carefully, making sure not to flood his system until he knows how it will respond to him. How the poison will respond to him.

Oh, he was right to do so, he finds immediately. He’s come straight from battle. He's tense with the remnants of battle rage and the demonic qi he brought to bear there, which is unhelped by the way Xin Mo is threaded through him, its energies closer to the surface than usual. Shizun fists his hands in Luo Binghe's robes, gasping in pain at the barest touch of Luo Binghe's demonic qi. 

Hastily, Luo Binghe pulls back, tucking his qi away inside himself. Shizun’s body remains stiff, and he's paled further, his lips ashen beneath that singular smear of blood. 

The thing is, Luo Binghe truly doesn't have much experience with Without-A-Cure. He's had a recent refresher on his knowledge, given Shizun’s affliction, but the man himself pays little mind to his poisoning. The memories never lingered on it nor any of his treatments; indeed, they were focused more on his friendship with Liu Qingge or the inconvenience during a mission than the everyday tribulations he suffered from it, even when it was clear that they pained him. Luo Binghe isn't certain Shizun’s ever had demonic qi introduced to his system while suffering a flareup, so perhaps neither of them knew it would hurt him.

But now Luo Binghe has. 

He should have known better. At every turn, he keeps failing to take care of Shizun the way he swore.

He should have stolen medicine from Qing Jing or Qian Cao. He should have dug further into Shizun’s medical record. He should have found out when Liu Qingge last visited. He should have cleared Shizun’s meridians soon after they arrived in the Demon Realm—the last especially, as he knows some of his wives with weaker cultivation used to have the occasional troubles with the differing energies between the Human and Demon Realms.

It’s easy enough to adjust to, when given the chance. It doesn’t affect non-cultivator humans at all, but weak cultivation—conflicting energies can be dangerous. Luo Binghe hadn’t thought of it because never has he considered Shizun to be weak.

He isn’t. This is an artificial weakness imposed upon him by the poison. A poison which may well could have been exacerbated by the Demon Realm’s energies! Shizun has spent so much time this past week cultivating!

Luo Binghe is an almighty fool.

His top priority will be assigning healers to making Shizun’s medicines. He’ll ensure they’re trustworthy—he’ll ask Yingying or Mingyan for their personal recommendations if he has to—but Shizun will have his medicine once more.

Which doesn’t solve the current issue. Shizun’s breathing is even and measured in a way that speaks to how poorly he feels. He’s lost none of his tension; even with the blood parasites forcing circulation and dulling pain where they can, it’s not enough. Not until Luo Binghe is able to clear his meridians and force back the flare-up.

…Well, Luo Binghe does know one way to maximize spiritual qi transfer while keeping his demonic energy out of it.

He leans down and slots his lips over Shizun’s. 

Luo Binghe is kissing him. 

Luo Binghe is kissing him?!

Sirens—thankfully not literal, System-induced sirens—are going off in his head. Shen Qingqiu has no idea what the fuck he’s supposed to do. 

Everything was…well, it wasn’t fine. Shen Qingqiu was abandoned in these sumptuous rooms with no idea when or if Luo Binghe would return. A prison is still a prison, even if its bars are gilded. 

He paced his rooms, half-heartedly plucked at the qin, picked dispiritedly at his food, approached the door with the array on it in the hopes that he might be able to feel out the patterns of qi composing it and therefore find a way out—

With Luo Binghe away from the palace, this would be the best time for Shen Qingqiu to attempt an escape. Yes, the blood parasites would make said escape null and void almost immediately, but at least he might be able to get word to Shang Qinghua. He could check in on the state of the Sun and Moon Dew Mushroom bodies! He could do anything other than wait here for something new to go wrong. 

…He didn’t even know why Binghe left. Conquering, he assumed, expanding his fledgling empire, but he didn’t know. Luo Binghe didn’t concern himself with telling him before he disappeared.

Even bothering the System about it netted him nothing. Literally nothing. When he tried, all he got in response was a canned, [The System you are trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please try again later.]

Which! He didn’t even realize was possible with the System! Another facet of the “software error” the System went through when updating, he guessed. Good for nothing shitty fucking System that can’t even update itself properly in-between the moments it’s trying to ruin his life!

Then, five days after Luo Binghe absented himself from Shen Qingqiu’s presence, the predictable happened. 

Mu Qingfang is always getting on Shen Qingqiu’s case about taking his medicine on time and balancing his health in order to prevent flareups. Shen Qingqiu thinks he does a pretty good job of handling all that, actually! He doesn’t need his doctor constantly hovering over his shoulder about it!

It’s part of living in a bullshit xianxia porn world. Even something as simple as emotional distress can lead to all sorts of health problems, like qi deviations, and Without-A-Cure is in part a spiritual poison. Everyone has been walking on eggshells around Shen Qingqiu since the Immortal Alliance Conference, like they think he’s—he’s—

Whatever! It’s silly! But it means they all keep bothering him about his health and how much he eats and if he’s sleeping enough and Shixiong, are you sure you should be going off on another mission right now…?

It’s maddening!

…It might have a grain of truth in it. 

Not that he’s in emotional distress, mind you, or that he isn’t able to take care of himself!

But Shen Qingqiu might—maybe, just a little bit—have discounted the likelihood that high stress levels (as a random example) could cause a flareup. Especially since Liu Qingge was shooed out of the sect recently by Shen Qingqiu, only reappearing to deliver the beast parts and gifts from grateful clients or to check in briefly with Zhangmen-shixiong.

There were several mission requests sent to Cang Qiong that needed Liu Qingge’s power and expertise, so Shen Qingqiu had promised to remain in the sect until such a time as Liu Qingge was done with those missions and available for a check-up. No need for him to waste energy clearing Shen Qingqiu’s meridians when civilians needed assistance! 

Really, once-a-month meridian cleansing is fine! If Shen Qingqiu doesn’t exert himself, it’s all that he needs! So long as he takes his weekly medicine on time, that is, which he’s very good at doing, Mu-shidi.

Except that it’s definitely been a week—over a week—without his medication by now. Most of a month since Liu Qingge last cleared his meridians. Shen Qingqiu was worried about a flare-up for a reason. Especially in the Demon Realm, because as vertigo-inducing as it was to travel through Xin Mo’s portal, he worried that it might have an effect on his potential flare-ups.

The thing about his flare-ups is, uh, hm, how does he put this…? They vary wildly in their intensity.

Obviously the very worst of it was when he was first poisoned, back during Sha Hualing’s invasion, before Mu Qingfang was able to mitigate its spread. Then, Shen Qingqiu had been bolstered by adrenaline and focusing on more important things, but it…it didn’t feel good. He felt quite miserable when he woke up later, too; a near brush with death will do that to a man. 

After, suppressed by Mu Qingfang’s medicine, with frequent qi-flushes, he was fine! Totally fine! And after the singular time Luo Binghe found him playing dead on the floor of the bamboo house—pointedly ignoring the lovely pool of vomit far too close to his head while he tried to resist the urge to get a head start on the Protagonist’s revenge by chopping off his right arm himself—and Luo Binghe nearly having a panic attack at the sight, Shen Qingqiu resolved to grit his teeth and bear it thenceforth.

There was no need to worry anyone. Besides, that time in the bamboo house (and admittedly, maybe on a few other occasions) caught him off guard. Like he said: the intensity varies. There’s not a predictable way to track it, not that he’s noticed. Even when he does everything precisely as Mu Qingfang demands, there’s no guessing whether it will be a flare-up like the Immortal Alliance Conference, where the pain was manageable enough that he was able to fight through Jue Di Gorge and throw Luo Binghe into the Abyss or if it will be the kind that has him longing for the sweet embrace of death.

Seriously, he was looking forward to his Sun and Moon Dew Mushroom body. It was great because not only would he finally be beyond the reach of Luo Binghe’s revenge, but he wouldn’t have to deal with Without-A-Cure any longer!

All this to say, he wasn’t surprised when, upon venturing from his bed and mid-morning meditation in the hopes of finding one of Luo Binghe’s dishes laid out for him, he made it only halfway across the room before Without-A-Cure struck. Not surprised, but nevertheless dismayed.

It was a bad one.

Alone though he was, habit made Shen Qingqiu bite down on his lip to hold in his cry. His disciple used to come running at the slightest sound of Shen Qingqiu’s displeasure—two years is not enough time to break a habit built upon three.

He came to regret that decision when the vertigo summarily knocked him to the floor. He landed with a thud, teeth biting further into thin skin. He curled, shrimp-like, atop one of the rugs, with the faintest tinge of copper in his mouth from where he broke skin. He swallowed down the urge to vomit blood or bile; either would have been utterly humiliating in this place.

Perhaps more humiliating was the way that, before Shen Qingqiu could even begin to pull himself together—at least enough to drag himself back to the bed, where he might be able to ride out the worst of the flare-up—clattering came from his front room. A bare instant later, the Protagonist himself was bursting into Shen Qingqiu’s bedroom, eyes wild as he dove for Shen Qingqiu and bundled him upright and then under covers.

And now! Somehow! This has culminated! In Luo Binghe! Kissing! Him!!

The scum villain!!!

Shen Qingqiu could cry tears of blood about it, not least because Luo Binghe is so devastatingly good at it. It doesn't take long for the shock to be overwhelmed by the bliss of it. Shen Qingqiu can't help the way that he melts into Luo Binghe, allowing him to deepen the kiss, allowing—

—the flood of spiritual energy into his body?

It's a deluge, sweeping through him and clearing his meridians so much more quickly and thoroughly than any other time he's had this done. Liu-shidi at his very best couldn't compare to Luo Binghe's determined efforts. 

Shen Qingqiu breaks the kiss. No, not a kiss—it was a medical treatment, more akin to CPR than anything else.

Shen Qingqiu never looked at his disciple in such a way—there are clear reasons why this happened, first and foremost among them the lightning bolt of agony that was Luo Binghe’s demonic qi entering his meridians when he tried clearing them earlier—of course another solution was needed—Luo Binghe is truly a stallion protagonist, for even his medical treatments to be so sensual (he must have lots of practice with kissing, after all)—

So there's no reason for Shen Qingqiu to feel so hurt and humiliated by it. 

Luo Binghe allows Shen Qingqiu that slight distance, though he doesn't allow Shen Qingqiu to move far. He checks his meridians again, presumably in case he needs to try again. Not that the Protagonist would ever fail at so simple a task (other than when he just did, Shen Qingqiu's mind whispers). He was surely glad when Shen Qingqiu moved away—what a blow to his pride it must have been! To have to descend to such a level, just to take care of his scum shizun. 

Shen Qingqiu most certainly does not have a lump in his throat. It must be leftover from his flare-up.

Luo Binghe stares intently down at his hand where it wraps around Shen Qingqiu’s, but after a few moments, the tense little line between his brows relaxes. Shen Qingqiu’s flare-up is dealt with—the discomfort has faded significantly, his qi flowing freely—which leaves him free to wiggle his way out of Luo Binghe’s hold.

Or try to, at least. His erstwhile disciple’s grasp tightens on him, keeping him trapped within the half-circle of Luo Binghe’s arms.

“Let me go, Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says.

Luo Binghe’s hold only tightens further. His face is still far too close to Shen Qingqiu’s. They’re practically sharing breaths! If Luo Binghe leaned in any closer, he might—for a second time—

Luo Binghe lets him go.

Shen Qingqiu, as gracefully as he can, scoots himself away from Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe’s attention doesn’t waver at all as he does. 

“…Thank you,” Shen Qingqiu says, once he’s safely backed up against the headboard. It won’t do anything to protect Shen Qingqiu should Luo Binghe actually attempt to grab for him, but it feels more defensible. And, for safety, he’s making an effort to appease Luo Binghe by showing his gratitude.

Luo Binghe’s head tilts, a lock of hair tumbling over his shoulder, come loose from the rest of his curls, which were carefully bound back so as to not get in the way while fighting. It looks unfairly alluring. Of course Luo Binghe looks beautiful like this, it’s the perfect environment for him! Freshly returned from the battlefield, still windswept and battle-weary—he should be off comforting a wife right now! She would be able to thoroughly appreciate it, not to mention assist in any backlash from Xin Mo. Or she would otherwise be able to settle Luo Binghe’s energies, whereas Shen Qingqiu is fully incapable of doing that for him. Not only because of Without-A-Cure, but because—because he’s a man! He’s Luo Binghe’s worst enemy!

Admittedly, Luo Binghe seems in control of himself. This can’t be backlash; the violence on the battlefield must have been enough to sate the sword without harming Luo Binghe in turn. His inability to separate spiritual and demonic qi—Xin Mo surely didn’t help, but battle may have done it anyway. Luo Binghe can’t be terribly practiced at splitting his energies yet. Even his web-novel counterpart struggled with it on occasion.

Yes. It makes perfect sense why Luo Binghe would have to use other methods to treat Shen Qingqiu. 

“Shizun is welcome, of course,” Luo Binghe says. He licks his lips, slowly, not breaking eye contact. A shiver runs through Shen Qingqiu. He wishes desperately for a fan. Luo Binghe outright smirks, obviously able to read that thought on his face or in his body language. The cons of raising this child! “Was that Shizun’s first kiss?”

Shen Qingqiu squawks. “Luo Binghe!” Not even the Original Goods’ poker face can save him now: he’s sure he’s beet red. “That—you—!”

“So it was?” Luo Binghe presses, leaning forward. He asks this even though he really should know better! Both for propriety’s sake and out of knowledge of his shizun’s past. The Original Goods famously went to brothels! Yes, he stopped doing that after the qi deviation, when the current Shen Qingqiu took over, but it was still well known! 

Unless Luo Binghe was making a dig about Shen Qingqiu’s kissing skills, which—

“No, it wasn’t!” Shen Qingqiu blurts out, and immediately feels himself flush even further. It’s true. As Shen Yuan, he had managed a few kisses; relatively chaste ones, all told, none of which had particularly interested him. The girls were nice enough, but Shen Yuan had always heard it was supposed to be like fireworks, and with them, it simply…wasn’t. They weren’t awful, but they weren’t…

Well, they were nothing compared to Luo Binghe.

"Hm," Luo Binghe says. "That disappoints this lord." 

Why?! He already knew that! Besides, it was a medical treatment! A medical treatment! It wasn't an actual kiss! 

"Thanking Lord Luo once again for his assistance," Shen Qingqiu says stiffly. Seriously, how is he supposed to respond to that? Sorry you had to resort to such methods, oh mighty Lord Luo, but you're the one who made that choice! It isn't like the flare-up would have killed him, not unless it went untreated for days or weeks and he wasn't allowed to access his medicine.

Now that Luo Binghe is back, perhaps it’s time to press him about that. At the very least, Luo Binghe will want him alive to suffer further torments, right?

(Don’t think about the panic on his face and in his voice when he saw you, Shen Qingqiu thinks to himself. It was probably only acting.)

"Did Lord Luo," Shen Qingqiu says slowly, "by any chance, happen to bring this one's medication when taking him to the Demon Realm?"

“…No," Luo Binghe says. 

"Does Lord Luo have the script and a trusted apothecary who could fill it?" Shen Qingqiu asks, politely and patiently as he can. If his flare-ups are going to be worse here—if the environment of the Demon Realm, and the stresses of having been kidnapped are going to have such an effect on his health—then he'll need the medications to keep it controlled. Clearing his meridians alone won't do much; the poison will start killing him again at some point, without Mu Qingfang's carefully designed blend. 

"This lord will see to it that it’s accomplished," Luo Binghe says, intent. “It was this lord’s oversight. Begging Shizun’s forgiveness.”

“Think nothing of it,” Shen Qingqiu says. What else is he supposed to say here?! He’s just happy Luo Binghe is willing to do this at all! Without making Shen Qingqiu beg for it, even! This is a win-win for him!

(Stop thinking about the kiss. It wasn’t a kiss!)

Luo Binghe leans forward even further than he already was, encroaching on Shen Qingqiu's space. He looks up at his former master through his long, dark lashes; one hand settles against Shen Qingqiu’s ankle, thumb sweeping against the delicate bone.

"Of course," Luo Binghe purrs, "this lord has no doubts we can find a better solution."

Luo Binghe, ripping his limbs off will not assist in the poisoning! Nor will breaking his bones, or whatever the hell else you’re thinking right now! 

Shen Qingqiu's mouth is dry as he reminds his disciple, “Mu Qingfang is the best healer in the jianghu and even he’s not found a better solution than this. It's incurable. Binghe knows this." 

His Binghe thinks he knows this, anyway. Never having gone through that incident at the Immortal Alliance Conference with Qin Wanyue—he shouldn't have an inkling that such a cure exists. Even the Original Luo Binghe hadn't figured out the true reality of the situation until he'd spent a year or more in the Abyss; by that time, he'd had several other, ah, encounters. Combined with his prodigious intellect, he quickly put the pieces together about why and how Qin Wanyue had so suddenly been cured despite previously being on the very brink of death. 

Wait. 

Luo Binghe never had his liaison with Qin Wanyue, but he and Shen Qingqiu did come across the Thousand-Leaves Fresh Snow Lotus. They were rather quickly distracted by Shang Qinghua’s arrival and Shen Qingqiu’s stubborn refusal to eat the flower.

Shen Qingqiu thought he made it exceedingly clear that the Thousand-Leaves Fresh Snow Lotus wouldn't work on Without-A-Cure. Surely Luo Binghe doesn't still think it’s possible, does he? Has he been laboring this whole time under the mistaken impression that the Thousand-Leaves Fresh Snow Lotus really could have helped? Or has he found an artifact he believes might function in its place? Something he picked up during his travels? Something inside the palace, perhaps? 

Shen Qingqiu wracks his brain, trying to recall if there would be any sort of healing artifact in the Underground Palace so shortly after Luo Binghe has taken it over. It's possible there is, though it's also a question of whether Luo Binghe has managed to inventory all the various treasuries yet, or check the records to see what’s there; then again, if this mysterious (presumed) artifact was found in the Abyss or during Luo Binghe’s campaigning, then there’s no telling what it could be.

Ah! Luo Binghe has thrown the canon timeline off completely, first by coming back so early and then by taking Shen Qingqiu with him directly to the Demon Realm. How is Shen Qingqiu supposed to predict his actions? Who knows what kind of ripple effect this will have on the plot? What artifacts or treasures will he find earlier, or later, or perhaps never at all?

…Hm. Luo Binghe seems invested in keeping him alive for now. Maybe Shen Qingqiu can extend that timeframe by bartering knowledge. For better or for worse (largely for worse), Shen Qingqiu knows a distressing amount about the world of Proud Immortal Demon Way. He’s sure he can parcel out that information in order to save his own skin.

If he wants Luo Binghe to listen to him, he’ll have to be careful about it, though. He can’t afford to make Luo Binghe angry, which means he'll have to let Luo Binghe down gently about 'curing' him. There's no need to have him haring off after panaceas that will never work.

Not for this poison. 

"I told you this already," Shen Qingqiu says, tired and, strangely, a bit heartsore. "Even the Thousand-Leaves Fresh Snow Lotus wouldn't have worked, if we tried it back then. Surely Binghe has had time to realize how, ah, literal demons are with their naming sensibilities. Without-A-Cure is named such for a reason." 

After a beat, Luo Binghe says, "I wasn't going to suggest the Thousand-Leaves Fresh Snow Lotus." This whole time, he hasn't stopped gently stroking along Shen Qingqiu's ankle, a featherlight touch that would be soothing if Shen Qingqiu weren't braced for it to turn violent. 

...Then again, it's been this long. Shen Qingqiu has been held captive by Luo Binghe for over a week now, left entirely at his mercy, far from any allies or even anyone who might hear him scream. In all that time, Luo Binghe hasn't yet—well, he drugged Shen Qingqiu, obviously, and he's holding Shen Qingqiu prisoner, not even allowing him to leave the rooms he dropped him into.

But there's been no overt violence. 

There’s been an abundance of care, however much Shen Qingqiu hesitates to label it that way. It doesn’t make any sense, is the thing! None of this makes sense! Luo Binghe is acting all the ways that he should, he’s acting like the black lotus Shen Qingqiu expected to climb out of the Abyss—except for all the ways that he isn’t.

Why hasn’t he taken his revenge?

Why hasn’t he…

Unbidden, Shen Qingqiu thinks back to that first afternoon, right after Luo Binghe dragged him into the Demon Realm. 

Would you believe me, if I said I wanted what was? Shizun and that disciple...can't I have that, too?

The finery gifted to him: not just clothes, but all the decorations, the jewelry, the qin and books and thoughtfully filled study. Cooking Shen Qingqiu's meals—even when Luo Binghe was off on a battlefield—and eating with him when possible. Being so solicitous about Shen Qingqiu's health, to come directly from that same battlefield to tend to him, not even pausing to clean himself up first. 

This determination to find a cure for his poisoning, which Luo Binghe was always so focused on as a disciple. 

It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t—is it possible—

Could it be...that Luo Binghe really doesn't want to hurt him?

Keep him prisoner, obviously. Cut off all connection to his former life, yes. Isolate him, undoubtably. 

Didn't Shen Qingqiu do that to Luo Binghe first, though?

The Endless Abyss was a monstrous place between the realms, a prison whose only escape was Xin Mo. Luo Binghe was held there, cut off from his former life, utterly alone—this can be considered a kind of karma, some skewed way of paying Shen Qingqiu back.

It's only that he always assumed—he knew!—Luo Binghe's revenge would involve significantly more of the limb-ripping that made it into the original text. Being held prisoner in Luo Binghe's palace is nothing compared to the hell of the Endless Abyss. Shen Qingqiu deserves so much worse than this! Luo Binghe would never have done this to the Original Goods! He didn’t do this to the Original Goods! 

Would you believe me, if I said I wanted what was?

It can't be that Luo Binghe wants that life back. It can't be that simple. 

Not after what Shen Qingqiu did. 

Can it?

"Shizun," Luo Binghe says. Thumb sweeping up, thumb sweeping down. He’s still so very close to Shen Qingqiu. His free hand reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind Shen Qingqiu's ear. His fingers brush against the shell of it; another brief shiver that rolls through Shen Qingqiu. “There is a way.”

“Binghe, that’s enough!” Shen Qingqiu says. He turns his head away.

This is too much! This is —tell him that he’s misunderstood, tell him that Luo Binghe really has been lying this whole time, or that this is some kind of trap. Please.

Shen Qingqiu’s greatest weakness has always been Luo Binghe. He can’t take this kindness from him. He can’t stand comfort being offered to him.

More than that, he can’t hold out for hope in this matter, not like Luo Binghe can. He can’t encourage Luo Binghe to hunt down these artifacts and thousand-year flowers and magical panaceas with starry-eyed wishes for Shen Qingqiu’s health, only to see Luo Binghe’s hard work prove to be useless at every turn. 

To have Luo Binghe willing to let him live is already so far beyond the reaches of what Shen Qingqiu could have hoped for that it strains credulity.

Shen Qingqiu knows what the only cure is, even if Luo Binghe doesn’t. He knows that it exists—and that it will never be offered to the likes of him. So he’ll shut down all discussion of a cure instead. The medicine is enough, since Luo Binghe is willing to provide it to him. It’s kept him alive the past five years; it will keep him alive a while longer.

A weighty silence falls between them. Shen Qingqiu can feel Luo Binghe’s eyes boring into the side of his head, even as the hold on his ankle remains gentle. Unthreatening.

“As Shizun wishes,” Luo Binghe says, something strange in his voice. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t dare turn his head to try and read his expression. “This disciple will see to it that medication is prepared. We can discuss further details later.”

“Bing—” Shen Qingqiu begins, reproving.

“We can discuss it later,” Luo Binghe says. “When Shizun is willing to listen.”

Now that’s just unfair!

No matter how stupid it might be, Shen Qingqiu truly can’t resist this time. He turns and glares at Luo Binghe—

Whose lips tilt into a self-satisfied smirk to see Shen Qingqiu’s attention on him once more.

Trying to continue this argument is just going to make Shen Qingqiu lose more battles than he already has. His pride, not to mention his face, can’t handle that. At least—going by today’s efforts—he’s assured that he’ll be able to stonewall Luo Binghe the next time he attempts to bring this up. Shen Qingqiu has the advantage of knowing all the secrets of the plot.

For now, he acquiesces.

“Very well,” Shen Qingqiu says, with what dignity he can muster.

“Mn,” Luo Binghe says, and finally, finally, he leans back a bit, no longer so thoroughly in Shen Qingqiu’s space. His hand slips off Shen Qingqiu’s ankle. It was so warm there that Shen Qingqiu immediately feels its absence. “Is Shizun hungry?”

Shizun still feels a bit nauseated from the flare-up, actually. But...

He has missed Luo Binghe's meals. A week isn’t enough to make up for two years of Luo Binghe’s absence. He's decided to trust in Luo Binghe's oath not to drug him again, so why not indulge?

And if Luo Binghe somehow, inexplicably, isn’t lying—if he really intends for them to echo the way they were back then—then how could Shen Qingqiu possibly refuse?

"...Perhaps something light," Shen Qingqiu says. 

"Whatever Shizun desires," Luo Binghe says, "this Binghe will provide." He stands. "Whatever he desires." 

"Everything Binghe makes is delicious," Shen Qingqiu says. He doesn't mean it to come out as tentative as it does, but he's testing the waters here. If he leans into the old style of their relationship, the way that they were when living together in the bamboo house, will Luo Binghe accept it? Or will he reject it, proclaiming Shen Qingqiu false-faced scum only fit for being tortured and killed?

Has Shen Qingqiu understood what Luo Binghe wants? Did Luo Binghe tell him the truth? Did Shen Qingqiu somehow manage to change the narrative, despite following through with the Abyss arc, such that Luo Binghe isn't seeking the same revenge that he did in the web-novel?

Does Shen Qingqiu truly get to have this?

Luo Binghe smiles at him. It's not the same smile he would give Shen Qingqiu as a disciple: there's too much darkness in those eyes, a weight to every action Luo Binghe takes, especially as he is now, covered in a fine patina of dirt and blood from the battlefield. Paradoxically, though all that should put Shen Qingqiu on high alert, it somehow does the opposite. It makes him believe the smile more.

Luo Binghe could lie to him so easily. He could disguise all that emotion if he wished. That he doesn't, that he lets Shen Qingqiu see it, is like an acknowledgment: yes, he's changed; yes, they both know it; yes, he wants to try again. 

Shen Qingqiu's heart skips a beat. 

"Rest for a while, Shizun," Luo Binghe says, fond and tender. "I'll be back soon with something for you to eat." 

Shen Qingqiu nods dumbly. He waits until Luo Binghe has closed the door behind him and then he crawls fully underneath the covers, holding a pillow over his head so that he can panic in the dark.

Oh, he's in danger.

Chapter Text

Luo Binghe honestly isn’t sure if he’s ever met someone who was so oblivious to the fact that he was being seduced. None of his ex-wives, no matter how sheltered they were beforehand, ever managed to entirely miss the fact that he was flirting with them, much less that he was actively propositioning them.

He should have taken it as a warning, all those glimpses of Liu Qingge he saw in Shizun’s memories. In his defense, how could he have known Shizun would be so resistant to the idea of being flirted with? Another version of him was married to that imposter!

…Luo Binghe knows himself, though. The imposter wouldn’t have given up until he got what he wanted. Neither will Luo Binghe. He simply hadn’t realized how thoroughly he would have to factor in Shizun’s obliviousness alongside his skittishness.

The latter, at least, Luo Binghe believes has lessened significantly. Just now, Shizun didn’t seem so desperately afraid of him as he was previously. Luo Binghe isn’t sure if it was his (unintentionally long) absence, allowing Shizun time to miss him, or if Shizun simply needed time to come to terms with Luo Binghe’s supposed return from the Abyss, or if multiple other factors aligned to place Shizun in a favorable mood toward him.

It’s a reassuring sign that Shizun didn’t flinch from anything Luo Binghe did upon his return from the battlefield. In point of fact, he reacted. Quite beautifully.

Luo Binghe pauses as he chops fresh scallions, brushing his fingers across his lips and grinning at the memory.

Shizun kissed him back.

His body didn’t lie. He is interested.

He didn’t flinch away from Luo Binghe’s touch at all—except, Luo Binghe flatters himself to think, in that moment where it was the strength of Shizun’s own desire which sent him skittering away.

Luo Binghe won’t force Shen Qingqiu to his bed. He’ll coax him there, as he will coax Shen Qingqiu in all ways, to all ends, until he and Luo Binghe are inextricably interwoven. If Shen Qingqiu is the one making these choices, even if heavily helped along by Luo Binghe’s hand, it will be so much more secure a relationship. Enough so, hopefully, that when Shen Qingqiu discovers the truth—

Well. Luo Binghe hasn’t defined all his plans for that yet. He knows it’s not a question of ‘if’, though. Shizun is too clever for that. No matter what Luo Binghe does, Shizun will figure it out eventually. All Luo Binghe can do is forestall that realization for as long as possible.

He shakes his head. There’s no point worrying about that future. Not when he’s made such progress toward a far more pleasant part of it.

A kiss.

He was so tempted to let it go even further. To lay Shizun out on the bed and dive even deeper into his mouth. To loosen Shizun’s silk robes until he could slide his hands inside and touch all that perfect skin. To rut against him, until Shizun was a rumpled, discomposed mess from Luo Binghe’s ministrations—

It’s good, then, that Shizun was the one to break the kiss first. Despite his resolution, Luo Binghe is impulsive, too easily tempted by Shizun. He was in far too much danger of forgetting himself and pushing where he was not yet entirely welcome. Oh, Shizun would have enjoyed himself, Luo Binghe is sure of that, but given that his first reaction in the aftermath of their kiss was to distance himself from Luo Binghe, he knows that to sleep with Shizun then would have broken something between them that hasn’t even finished forming.

Luo Binghe sighs.

This is progress. It’s good! It is. Luo Binghe is greedy, that’s all.

And quietly baffled. He resumes chopping the scallions, preparing to quickly fry the white bottoms of them, as he thinks.

He didn’t come out and blatantly say the cure to Without-A-Cure. He was implying it strongly—but implication isn’t enough when it comes to Shizun. Shizun enjoyed the kiss, before seemingly frightening himself back out of it. His equilibrium was already disturbed, even before Luo Binghe opened his mouth.

And…

Shizun, no matter how well-learned he is or what he’s read about Luo Binghe’s blood parasites, has no way to know about the panacea of a Heavenly Demon’s body. Luo Binghe was working his way up to stating it blatantly, once it became obvious that Shizun wasn’t noticing the hint laid out directly in front of him. He hadn’t quite gotten there when Shizun shut down the conversation.

Luo Binghe takes back his earlier thoughts. It might not be obliviousness at all. Not entirely.

It makes sense, is the thing. Of course Shizun would assume Luo Binghe was talking about miracle cures and plants like the Thousand-Leaves Fresh Snow Lotus—of course he would assume that, if Mu Qingfang hasn’t managed to find a cure in all this time, how could Luo Binghe so quickly have managed it?

It must be frustrating, to have searched so many years for a cure and to never have found one. It must be heartbreaking, that search: to suffer, again and again, the disappointment of thinking a cure has been found, only to realize that this solution, too, won’t work. In the memories he saw, Shizun never seemed terribly concerned about his poisoning. His martial brothers—and the imposter child—were far more stressed about it than Shizun ever was.

Yet Shizun does not have a heart made out of stone. He may not show it, but it surely hurts, this idea he will never be cured. Shutting down Luo Binghe’s offer so quickly—it can only be a defensive action, Shizun shielding that vulnerable part of himself before it can take more damage.

Even then, Shizun didn’t seek to hurt Luo Binghe. His refusal to hear was uncompromising, but not cruel.

Luo Binghe can’t imagine his own shizun ever being capable of remaining so calm about such a devastating blow to his cultivation and health. It’s another way that the kind Shizun and Luo Binghe’s own, unlamented Shen Qingqiu differ. Shizun is so much calmer about everything—save Luo Binghe’s return from the Abyss, for whatever reason.

Luo Binghe hasn’t had a chance to dig through Shizun’s mind again. He doesn’t want to leave Meng Mo in charge of that, not even if he constrains himself only to the buried memories Luo Binghe has yet to touch. Shizun belongs to Luo Binghe. It’s his right to dig through Shizun’s mind, his right to find his answers, his right to destroy that interloper and leave Luo Binghe the only presence there.

It will be so sweet, to be the only mind inside Shizun. He’ll be burrowed deep inside Shizun in all ways, exactly where he belongs.

He just has to make it through some small hurdles first.

Shizun has thoroughly shut conversation regarding a cure down for now, but Luo Binghe meant what he said. He doesn’t seem willing to realize what Luo Binghe is getting at, nor even to hear him fully out? Fine. They can save that conversation for later. However long it takes for Shizun to become comfortable with him and their potential intimacy.

Luo Binghe has waited this long. He can wait a bit longer.

In the meantime, he will deal with the interloper.

It doesn’t take long before the congee is finished. Luo Binghe bears it back to Shizun’s rooms, somewhat bemused to note that Shizun was apparently attempting to smother himself with a pillow while he was away. Shizun isn’t quite quick enough to toss that pillow away as Luo Binghe enters, though he makes a good production of pretending that he’s only attempting to sit himself up.

Luo Binghe allows him his face. He sets his tray on the bedside table before assisting Shizun in actually getting himself upright.

“Binghe,” Shizun complains, “this master is not such an invalid that he can’t sit up on his own!”

“Won’t Shizun allow this disciple his worries?” Luo Binghe ripostes, fluffing a pillow before positioning it behind Shizun’s back. He smoothes the covers over Shizun’s legs and lap, not lingering but making sure Shizun is kept warm and comfortable. His color has recovered, but he still looks peaky.

Shizun sighs and allows Luo Binghe’s fussing. He tracks all Luo Binghe’s movements, yes, but the underlying tension with which he did that a week ago has near entirely dispersed.

Good.

Once he’s assured of Shizun’s position, Luo Binghe lifts the tray, setting it down in Shizun’s lap. The teapot itself he removes immediately lest it rest too much weight upon Shizun or unbalance the tray. He leaves the teacup, which he quickly fills, before placing the pot back on the bedside table. He will make sure Shizun’s cup remains full while he eats.

Shizun pauses before taking so much as a bite. “…Will Binghe not be joining this master for lunch?”

Luo Binghe blinks. He honestly hadn’t thought about making a second bowl for himself. “Apologies, Shizun,” he says. “I forgot.”

Shizun’s eyes flick heavenwards. “Silly boy,” he chides. “If I’ve told you once—!”

Luo Binghe ducks his head, feigning contrition while barely keeping a smile from spreading across his face. “Yes, Shizun,” he says. “I won’t forget again.”

“Do you at least have another teacup with you?” Shizun asks. “Binghe needs to take care of himself, he only just returned from—” And here his expression shutters. Luo Binghe didn’t quite realize how relaxed it became before it tightens again. “Ah. Does Luo Binghe need to go back right away? Is that why…?”

“No, Shizun,” Luo Binghe says quickly, hating that that brief supposition pulled a ‘Luo’ out of Shizun instead of an unvarnished ‘Binghe’. “Matters were well in hand when I left. I’m not needed there.” Not like Shizun needs me, he thinks but doesn’t say. He isn’t sure how Shizun will take that—if it will fluster and please him or if he will take it as an insult or if he will try to prove Luo Binghe otherwise and, in the process, potentially set his recovery back.

“If Binghe is sure,” Shizun says, somewhat doubtful.

“I’m sure,” Luo Binghe says. “If Shizun doesn’t mind, I’ve another teacup. I could keep him company.”

Shizun stuffs a bite of congee into his mouth, swallows, and then looks away before saying, “If Binghe insists.”

Oh, is that the game they’ll be playing? Luo Binghe can work with that. He can work with that quite well.

He pulls a teacup from one of his qiankun pouches, ducks into the study off Shizun’s front room to grab one of the chairs kept there, and sets himself up beside Shizun’s bed. He pours himself a cup of tea, then refills Shizun’s. He made his way through the tea faster than he has the congee; he’s taking small, measured bites of it, in a way that Luo Binghe thinks must mean he’s suffering from leftover nausea.

Certainly he’s suffering from exhaustion. They make light conversation while Shizun eats, but Luo Binghe doesn’t even have to use his dream powers for Shizun to begin fading, half his bowl of congee untouched. He fights to stay awake, struggling to continue talking, but his blinks grow longer and longer until finally his eyes flutter closed and don’t reopen. Luo Binghe takes the tray from Shizun’s lap before it can slide or be knocked over; he neatly stacks the remainders of their meal onto it, carrying it to the front room to be taken with him when he leaves.

Not that Luo Binghe is leaving quite yet.

He returns to Shizun’s bedroom. Gently, he shifts Shizun downward so that he’s lying flat, pulling the covers all the way back up to his chin. He’ll sleep better like this. Luo Binghe runs light fingers through the very end of Shizun’s hair, the handspan of tail beneath the green-and-gold ribbon which ties off Shizun’s braid. He apparently didn’t bother putting it up in a more elaborate style today—or perhaps that’s what he intended to do when Without-A-Cure struck. Either way, it benefits Shizun now. Luo Binghe lifts that lengthy coil of hair, pressing his lips to it before placing it back down beside Shizun. Soon he’ll be able to do that while Shizun is awake.

For now, Luo Binghe sits back down in the chair he dragged to Shizun’s bedside. He pillows his head in his arms on the mattress next to Shizun. His eyes flick closed: the last sight he sees is Shizun’s soft, sleep-slackened face.

The first sight he sees in the Dream Realm is the Immortal Alliance Conference once more. Not the Abyss this time, no. Instead, Shizun stands in the midst of the meadow holding the Thousand-Leaves Fresh Snow Lotus, the imposter child at his side. Shang Qinghua is sprawled at their feet, having obviously just arrived inside the protective shield of the lotus’ aura. Shizun’s sword is unsheathed.

Luo Binghe circles around the tableau. He's not inside the dream body of that other Luo Binghe, and he didn’t summon this dreamscape. This must simply be what’s at the top of Shizun’s mind, given what they discussed after Luo Binghe cleansed his meridians. Except then the dream wavers, and Shizun turns, taking in the way Qin Wanyue—of all people!—has appeared at the imposter child’s side. 

Shizun’s expression goes blank and still as, ignoring him, the imposter child stoops to retrieve the flower, offering it to Qin Wanyue. The girl smiles demurely, a high flush in her cheeks. She looks far too healthy to have been recently struck by Without-A-Cure, as she was in Luo Binghe's own timeline. This isn't a recreation of that moment, though; how could Shizun possibly know about it? 

No, it's purely symbolic. As is the way that Shizun has faded into the background, overlooked completely by the others inside this scene. Shang Qinghua has disappeared entirely. So have all the other Huan Hua disciples who were scattered about. Only the two disciples are left, the focus of this impromptu play all upon them.

Qin Wanyue accepts the flower, leaning forward to shyly kiss the imposter child. 

Shizun has such a rosy view, Luo Binghe thinks, tired and a bit sour. When it was Luo Binghe in this situation—when the real Qin Wanyue pressed her suit—it wasn't anything so gentle and sweet as this idyllic little scene. Luo Binghe granted a dying girl's wish, because what else could he do? 

He certainly wasn't the one who initiated any aspect of that moment. 

Luo Binghe has had a lot of sex over the years of his long life, and for the most part, he enjoys it. He enjoys it immensely. He certainly can't wait for the moment he'll finally be able to come together with Shizun, to put all those decades of experience to use, to show Shizun what true, unrelenting, screaming pleasure feels like. 

Yet sometimes, when looking back, especially on this very first time, he wishes—

Bah. What does it matter? Luo Binghe has wished for a great many things. For his mother to live. For Cang Qiong Mountain Sect to offer up a bright future to his trembling, outstretched hands. For Shen Qingqiu to treat him kindly—or, barring that, at least fairly, devoid of the hatred Luo Binghe somehow earned from the very moment he stepped foot on Qing Jing. 

The world has never granted Luo Binghe any of his wishes. Everything that he has, he had to claim for himself, with blood and fire and sword. 

Even the kind Shizun he finally found for himself—didn't he have to work hard to find him, searching for years until he finally succeeded? 

Luo Binghe bends the world until it obeys his whims. What he wants, he takes, no matter how long he must strive or how diligently he must work in order to attain it. 

What use are wishes? 

There's no one to hear them. No one answers prayers from filthy little half-demon children. Luo Binghe clawed all the gods out of the heavens when it came to it, and he regrets it not for a moment. None of them deserved their lofty positions, the way they watched the world without helping, only with condemnation—!

It doesn't matter now. That is long since over and done with, and Luo Binghe was successful:

He has Shizun. 

Shizun, who is standing there at the edge of the meadow, barely inside the protective aura of the lotus. What would have been the protective aura, rather: with the Thousand-Leaves Fresh Snow Lotus plucked, the offered safety for those within its bounds has faded away. Shizun’s back is to the forest—were this real, he would be wholly unprotected. Any monster could sneak up and snatch him away.

Right here and now, the monster in question is Luo Binghe. 

He wraps his arms around Shizun from behind, hands splayed across his stomach, pressing himself in a warm line against Shizun’s back. His chin hooks over Shizun’s shoulder; he has to hunch slightly to accomplish this, but it's worth it for the feeling of Shizun’s hair tickling his cheek, the cool silk of his robes against the underside of Luo Binghe's chin, the way Luo Binghe’s breath brushes against Shizun’s ear as he exhales slowly. 

Shizun doesn't flinch, though he goes rigid in Luo Binghe's hold before seeming to realize who is holding him. The tension flows out of him as quickly as it entered.

"What is Shizun thinking?" Luo Binghe asks, voice a low murmur as he speaks directly into Shizun’s ear. 

"Luo Binghe," Shizun says, not quite scolding. 

"Yes?" Luo Binghe hums. Within the dream where none of it matters, he dares to press his lips against Shizun’s neck, just beneath his ear, a sensitive little spot. 

Shizun gasps. 

Emboldened, Luo Binghe places another kiss along his neck, a bit below the first. Then another, higher up along Shizun’s jaw. Shizun’s head turns, and the next kiss lands solidly on his lips. The angle is a bit awkward, to be sure, but Luo Binghe doesn't care about that. Neither, it seems, does Shizun. He melts into the kiss the same way he did in the real world, except this time, he doesn't panic and throw himself away. 

It's only a dream, after all. Shizun isn't conscious inside it, his dreaming mind and inhibitions looser than in reality. Honestly, Luo Binghe is torn as to whether he'll smooth over this dream, allowing Shizun to forget it in the light of morning—or if he wants Shizun to remember. If he wants Shizun to yearn for him. 

...He already knows the answer, no matter what fleeting thoughts pass his mind.

He wants Shen Qingqiu's firsts in the real world, not in dreams. He wants Shizun to choose to come to him, to come for him, and not to have any doubts that Luo Binghe has interfered with his mind or done anything to force their relationship happen, other than making use of his practiced decades of flirting and seduction. He promised himself that he would kept their interactions as chaste as possible rather than diving to the depths he wishes them to reach.

This is not chaste.

Luo Binghe is the one to break the kiss. 

He retreats, though only by a few cun. Shizun automatically chases him, and Luo Binghe indulges himself, giving one last little peck against Shizun’s lips, before drawing back again. Shizun takes the hint this time, but they're still close enough that their breaths mingle, hot air stirring between them. 

"What was Shizun thinking?" Luo Binghe asks again, in that tiny space between them. 

"I...I was considering Binghe's happiness," Shizun says. 

Luo Binghe considers that. The imposter child, handing a flower off to Qin Wanyue. Qin Wanyue, happily accepting it, with that shy blush on her cheeks. The image that the two of them made, and—oh, this dream isn't about Qin Wanyue at all. It is symbolic. Shizun wants Luo Binghe's happiness, and somehow, he thinks that his little disciple would ever find that in a girl. 

Well, being fair, Luo Binghe thought he might find his happiness in women, too. For a long time, he chased after it. He managed to scrape bits of it up here and there, to eke surface level satisfaction out of his life, but—in hindsight, he realizes that it was only surface level. The kind of happiness he saw on the imposter’s face in the original kind Shizun’s memories, or even Shizun’s memories of the imposter child, is not anything Luo Binghe has truly felt, not like they so obviously did. Luo Binghe’s happiness remained elusive through all the years of his life. No matter how many new wives he added into his harem, no matter what he did, no matter where he went, no matter what feats he accomplished, no matter what praise he received—

None of it was never enough. 

Ah, Shizun. Luo Binghe supposes he can't blame him for missing something that took Luo Binghe himself so long to figure out. 

Still. 

"Doesn't Shizun know that my happiness is with him?" Luo Binghe asks. "Where else could I want to be but here? What more could I want than this?"

What more could he want than Shizun in his arms—at his side—in his bed? 

"Binghe deserves the world," Shizun says. Here inside the dream, he clearly aches as he says it, but he says it anyway. 

"I took the world," Luo Binghe says. "Everything in it, I made it mine, and it was never enough. I want you."

He wants with a clawing desperation, with a monstrous vehemence, like a starving child faced with a feast for the first time in his life and oh, how he'll glut himself upon it—!

Luo Binghe shoves Shizun away and dissolves the dream around them before he can do something he'll regret. He takes care not to hurt Shizun as he does so, but the action is swift and decisive. 

Control is key. 

Luo Binghe smoothes out the little puffs and whorls of Shizun’s now formlessly dreaming mind, making sure none of that interaction remains. He'll have that conversation with Shizun in the waking world at some point; for now, he can consider this practice. 

It's not what he originally entered Shizun’s mind to do. He has other tasks for the night. 

Luo Binghe already decided he would stay away from the Immortal Alliance Conference in Shizun’s memories and dreaming mind. There's too much danger of pulling Shen Qingqiu too deeply into it; even treading the very edges of it just now was dangerous. He can't get the answers he seeks from that moment, so he has to search in earlier memories. He needs to find other discrepancies, other places the interloper interfered in Shen Qingqiu's life. 

It can't have only been that one moment. Whatever curse has been cast on Shizun, whatever sign remains of the moment when the interloper first entered Shizun’s mind—Luo Binghe has to find it. He has to know more about the danger Shizun faces before he can excise it from his empress-to-be's life.

Luo Binghe floats there in Shizun’s unformed dreamscape, a void littered by drifting sparks of almost-dreams, the flotsam and jetsam of not-quite-thoughts or half-structured memories, building blocks of the endless realities created each night in every being capable of dreams. Luo Binghe drags his hand through the air, gathering dream-stuff together like a shepherd gathering wool, carding and spinning and then weaving it together into a whole, one soft as a winter ruff made of Cloud-Frill Blooming Stoat fur. He drapes this completed dream over Shizun’s mind, cocooning him in a deep dream that will warn Luo Binghe should Shizun attempt to escape it. 

When he is satisfied with his good work, Luo Binghe orients himself. He drops himself down and down, full fathom five into Shizun’s mind, so that he may pick his way through memories. 

Now then, where to begin?

Directly after Shizun’s qi deviation would be best. Luo Binghe hasn't had a chance to dig around in his buried memories, and he remains wary of doing so unless Shizun is sufficiently distracted. Plus, now that he's aware of the interloper, he's concerned that it might have something to do with why those memories have been buried in the first place. The detritus piled atop those memories could be from the qi deviation, but—

Oh. 

Luo Binghe is a fool. 

The qi deviation.

The qi deviation that, by all accounts, so radically altered the way Shizun acted. And Luo Binghe is out here looking for a start to this curse, a moment where the interloper seized upon one of Shizun’s weaknesses to slip its way inside. What better point would that be than a qi deviation?

If, of course, all it did was take advantage of the qi deviation. Shen Qingqiu is—was—prone to them, so the interloper may have merely leapt at the chance offered it.

On the other hand, it’s a possibility that whatever the interloper did when it attached itself to Shizun…is what kicked off his qi deviation in the first place.

Assuming Luo Binghe is right, assuming that before the qi deviation Shizun more akin to the tyrant of Luo Binghe's youth than the man he is now—well. That man would never have allowed the interloper to settle itself so thoroughly inside his head, not without fighting it with everything he had. 

Even to the detriment of himself. 

If that's what happened—ha! It's like karma, come to greet Shen Qingqiu sooner than Luo Binghe took to grow up. The loss of his whole self, transmuted into someone new. Luo Binghe would appreciate that more if it weren't for the fact that the interloper is still nestled inside his kind Shizun. The Shen Qingqiu Luo Binghe would enjoy seeing suffer such a fate is well beyond it now, leaving only Shizun to deal with the consequences. 

Regardless of how it happened, Luo Binghe has his starting point. 

He sifts through Shizun’s mind, going back through time to that moment, the very starting point of Shizun's accessible memories. It really is fascinating how he can have such a complete sense of self when so many pieces of him are missing, either buried or otherwise out of Luo Binghe's reach; it makes him wonder if Shizun found a way to hide pieces of himself away. Those locked memories—were they meant to keep the interloper out?

Luo Binghe finds himself intrigued at the very thought. He tucks it away to contemplate. For now, he must finish what he’s started.

The bamboo house coalesces around them: Shizun, laid out on his bed, and Yue Qingyuan, sitting at Shizun’s side, much like Luo Binghe currently does in the waking world. It’s a wavering image, built more of impressions and a mind that filled in the blanks afterwards, because Shen Qingqiu is barely coming to consciousness, his eyes firmly shut.

For now.

“Shidi? Shidi, can you hear me?” Yue Qingyuan asks. Always so concerned about his shidi, that one, even when Shen Qingqiu never deserved it. Perhaps especially then. Yue Qingyuan never hid that weakness. He should have, if he ever considered how it might be used against him.

That was his fatal mistake.

The memory of Shizun slits his eyes open. His gaze roves over the room: his bed, himself, Yue Qingyuan. He grabs the fan left lying beside him, quickly covering his expression, but not before Luo Binghe catches the cracks he isn’t quick enough to disguise.

Shizun is confused and…scared.

“Shidi finally woke up,” Yue Qingyuan says, joyful and warm. “Do you have any discomfort?”

“Nothing too bad,” Shizun says diffidently.

Luo Binghe nearly laughs.

Whatever else is hidden in the back of Shizun’s mind, whatever memories Luo Binghe has not had the chance to dig into—it’s undeniably true that Shizun doesn’t know what’s going on here. However much of his memory has truly been distorted or outright destroyed, this is the moment that his most active memories start from, so right now? Luo Binghe has to wonder if he even knows who Yue Qingyuan is.

This assumption isn’t disproved by the next words coming out of Shizun’s mouth.

“I…where is this?”

“Did you sleep yourself into a trance?” Yue Qingyuan asks. “This is your Qing Jing Peak.”

“Why…” Shizun says slowly, “why was I asleep for so long?”

“That’s what I wanted to ask you,” Yue Qingyuan says. “You were in perfect health, so how did you suddenly come down with a high fever?”

He carries on like this for a bit, but Luo Binghe tunes him out. He’s too busy examining Shizun, watching the furrow between his narrow brows deepen with every word the sect leader says, his grip on his fan tight as he continues to waft air in front of his face, until—

“Qingqiu-shidi,” Yue Qingyuan says. “Are you listening to Shixiong?”

There is a quiet sound of a bell ringing. The dream shudders, just like it did in the memory of the Immortal Alliance Conference. Luo Binghe blinks, and Shizun is curled in on himself, clutching at his head in obvious agony. 

Luo Binghe leans forward in interest.

So…even this far back, the interloper truly is present. Present, and causing problems for his shizun.

As Yue Qingyuan himself asked: Shen Qingqiu was in perfect health, so why did he come down with that fever? Was it really a qi deviation? If not—what did the interloper do when it settled itself inside him?

Carefully, Luo Binghe tugs at the memory, spooling the threads of it backward.

“Are you listening to Shixiong?”

The bell sounds a second time. It’s not any bell that Luo Binghe has heard before. It’s not rich enough; in point of fact, it sounds tinny, and there is a deeply strange sound to it, as though the reverberations aren’t hitting air right even in memory.

As soon as he hears the bell, Luo Binghe freezes the memory. Unblinking, he stares at Shizun’s frozen face, not yet dipped down under the pain the interloper must have inflicted upon him.

In that moment between, Luo Binghe spreads his awareness throughout the space of the memory. He holds onto the sense-memory of that spark of power he’d felt in Shen Qingqiu’s mind and body, spreading his own power outward like a layer of his blood, searching for poison, illness, or other flaws within his target’s body. He stands in the center of it all, waiting, patiently waiting, until finally he brushes up against that which does not belong.

There you are, Luo Binghe thinks.

It's tightly woven in with the rest of Shizun's mind, blending near seamlessly into the memory. Near seamlessly, but not quite. There is a flaw to its intended camouflage. It feels like—hm. It almost feels like Xin Mo’s portal. Specifically the one which led to Shizun’s world. He wasn’t paying enough attention when he passed through the portal to the original kind Shizun’s world; he doesn’t know if the signature was the same then as well.

He thinks not. Just based on the portals he opened to all those different worlds, the hair-fine differences between them, he has to assume the energy signature is different, no matter how similar it seems at first glance.

This interloper existed in the original kind Shizun’s world and in Shizun’s world. Presumably, the source from whence it came is the same; presumably, the same creature powers its curse.

As an outsider to either of those worlds, Luo Binghe is able to pick out the interloper where no one else may have been able to. It won't be able to hide from him any longer. 

That isn't to say that Luo Binghe will be able to pull it from Shizun’s mind and destroy it right at this very moment, unfortunately. He can find it, but he doesn't know the entire shape of it yet. He doesn't know what it's done, or how deeply it's buried itself inside Shizun. He doesn't know what damage he might do, if he moves without caution and the utmost preparation. 

All he needs is one thread to begin unraveling the entire tapestry of this curse. Luo Binghe simply has to find the right thread.

For now, he’ll see what the thread in front of him is trying to hide.

Luo Binghe rewinds the memory for a second time, tracking the interloper's presence, making sure that he has a firm grasp on it before he allows the memory to begin playing again. 

"Qingqiu-shidi?" Yue Qingyuan says. "Are you listening to Shixiong?" 

The bell. 

The interloper, squirming in his grasp—

Luo Binghe tightens his hold, forcing it to let him through the distortion of Shizun’s memory. When that seems as if it might not work, he changes tacks quickly. He doesn’t use force. Instead, he modulates his qi signature, using his dream powers to echo the interloper’s energy signature as best he can, until—

Luo Binghe slides through a narrow gap. 

[The System was successfully—Cang Qiong Mountain Sect’s—Shen Qingqiu,] an unnatural voice says, too flat and impersonal, tinny in the same way the bell was tinny. Luo Binghe's grasp here is tenuous. His impersonation of the interloper's power is enough for him to break through to this moment, but it's disjointed, incomplete. 

He can’t make out Shizun's words any better than he can the interloper’s. In fact, Shizun’s response is nearly more distorted. 

“—speaking—my brain?—shooting towards—demon—?”

[—triggered the System's execution—bound to the Shen Qingqiu—gradually become available—will automatically mete out punishment.]

The interloper's not-voice is incongruously cheerful for how it threatens Shizun. 

It dares to threaten him. 

Luo Binghe's impersonation of its energies waver with the strength of his sudden rage. He has only a moment longer to watch the memory-within-a-memory unspool, to catch the interloper—the System, as it called itself, though Luo Binghe will not even think that inside Shizun’s mind in case it draws unwanted attention from his target—saying something about [Warning] and [qualifies as a violation] and [punishment] before Shen Qingqiu goes back to that pose Luo Binghe saw before: curled in on himself, reacting to pain from a source that no one else can see or hear. 

Yue Qingyuan sits there uselessly, not noticing a damn thing. He reacts to Shizun's pain, but it's inexplicable to him. There is no source to it; his best guess is that it's a remainder of the qi deviation.

Good-for-nothing, Luo Binghe thinks thinks derisively, sneering at him. Someone should have noticed the interloper. They should have done something to help Shizun!

As ever, Luo Binghe will sweep in to fix their mistakes for them.

The memory skips again. The interloper must have continued its conversation with Shizun, but Luo Binghe has lost his grasp on its energies. 

He doesn't think he'll be able to regain enough control to try and infiltrate that memory again. Not with how angry he is right now. Oh, there's plenty of occasions where he's used anger as fuel, where he's made it into a weapon to be wielded as surely as Xin Mo, or even where he's buried it and transmuted it into another form, saved for later use. Yet there are plenty of other occasions where the anger has only been a disadvantage—moments where Xin Mo has used him, rather than the other way around. 

If Luo Binghe loses control right here and now, the damage he might cause is incalculable. If he loses control, the interloper might discern what has happened, and Luo Binghe cannot afford to trust that it will leave Shizun's mind intact if it decides to retreat. 

Not when it so casually threatened to punish him already, during what may well have been their very first meeting. 

How often has it done this? How often has Shizun been forced to deal with this, all by himself? How much damage has it done to Shizun over the course of the nearly six years since his qi deviation? What did the interloper demand of Shizun, that it would threaten punishments in order to make Shizun comply?

(Why, Luo Binghe's mind whispers insidiously, puzzle pieces clattering into place, did Shizun throw the imposter child into the Abyss, when he so clearly regretted it?)

There is a heartbeat where Luo Binghe wonders darker thoughts: If the interloper could force Shizun, then could it force Shizun to be kinder to him? Is that why the imposter child was treated so well, because the interloper demanded it?

In the next heartbeat, Luo Binghe dismisses that particular idea. No, Shizun’s affection for the imposter child is unfeigned. The love the original kind Shizun felt for the imposter was true. Whatever else the interloper may have compelled Shizun to do, it couldn’t make Shizun feel a certain way.

That’s one small relief. So small, lost amidst the ocean of wrongs the interloper has committed against Shizun—yet vitally important.

Luo Binghe is going to find all of the moments in Shizun’s memories where this interloper has appeared. He's going to reconfigure his energies, learning how best to fake the interloper's signature. He's going to pay careful attention to every occasion when it speaks to Shizun, every way that it threatens him. He's going to find every trace of it inside Shizun, and no matter how long it takes, he's going to burn it out. 

He won't be able to do that tonight. Not even a part of it, not with how the fury claws at him like a living beast. Even so, he can begin marking out a mental map of the interloper's presence.

Luo Binghe thought he did such a good job of flicking through Shizun’s memories, those weeks on Qing Jing before he revealed himself. In hindsight, he was too concerned with figuring out how to imitate the imposter child. If there were other moments like this, he missed them—or, ominously, perhaps this 'System' was simply better at hiding them then.

It appeared first on Qing Jing. Perhaps it drew power from the Tian Gong mountain range in order to bolster its efforts; if so, stealing Shizun away to the Demon Realm may well have loosened the interloper’s hold, if only slightly. Then again, Luo Binghe has no way to confirm this, and the interloper may not need that much power to keep its hold on Shizun’s mind. He can’t count on this hypothesis holding true—not when it’s Shizun’s mind or life that might be destroyed if he’s wrong.

Whatever the case, Luo Binghe knows about the interloper now. He’ll find some way to weaken it, if it isn’t already, and he’ll free Shizun of it forever.

He allows the memory he’s in to continue, curious if there are any more moments where the interloper makes its appearance, even if he isn’t able to spy on the hidden parts of them tonight. He can always go back later.

The memory has skipped forward, enough that Shizun has recovered from whatever the interloper did to him. He peers around the room, skipping over Yue Qingyuan, settling on the few disciples scattered in the room: mostly Qian Cao attendants, along with Ming Fan, obviously. Shizun seems as though he's looking for someone specifically. 

Indeed, when he opens his mouth, it's to ask after a specific person.

"Where is Luo Binghe?"

Luo Binghe's eyebrows jump up. Well, there goes his half-hearted theory that Shizun forgot everything. It was a rather far-fetched assumption in the first place, given the buried memories, but Shizun’s mind truly is structured in a strange way. It's hard to assess what's going on inside of it, even while Luo Binghe is himself viewing it from the inside. 

Yue Qingyuan hesitates, then says, "Shidi, don't be angry."

Ah, Luo Binghe knows where this is going. Though he was sheltered for all those years beneath Shizun’s widespread wings, before the qi deviation the imposter child really didn’t escape Shen Qingqiu's cruelties, did he?

It should probably bother Luo Binghe more than it does, this prospect that the kind Shizun isn't perfect. He was still capable of the same awful lows as the master under whom Luo Binghe learned. 

Except he changed. The qi deviation changed him. Luo Binghe would have latched onto such a circumstance desperately, would have cleaved to the new version of Shen Qingqiu offered to him. Both the imposters in these other worlds did so; Luo Binghe himself searched out another version of the kind Shizun because he wanted him. 

Shizun became different. Luo Binghe will shed no tears or sympathy for the original version of his shizun, the one destroyed and restructured by the qi deviation, because this kind Shizun—he's so much better. 

It's unfair that Luo Binghe's version of Shen Qingqiu never had that qi deviation. Never had that interloper shove its way inside of him, sparking off a qi deviation that rearranged all the pieces of Shen Qingqiu's mind until it accidentally created this softer, gentler man—

Unless, again, the interloper did that on purpose. Luo Binghe doesn’t know enough about its intentions to know.

If it did—that’s certainly a thought. It leads Luo Binghe to wonder: could the interloper be some kind of dream demon? It would explain why no one else is able to see or hear it, though its power feels different than any other dream demon Luo Binghe has ever encountered. On the other hand, the only dream demons Luo Binghe has encountered are Meng Mo and—by a technicality—himself, which is a rather small pool for comparison.

It's theoretically possible for a dream demon to do what the interloper might have done to Shizun, though there would be a strong danger of simply killing the victim. Minds are so delicate, after all. 

Then again, Luo Binghe is one of the most powerful demons in the Three Realms when it comes to the dream arts, and he couldn’t do what the interloper has done. He couldn’t reach between worlds like the interloper did, either. Meng Mo could never make him do anything; even if he wanted to, Meng Mo was dependent on Luo Binghe for his continuing existence.

If Meng Mo had tried anything, would it have looked like what the interloper did to Shizun? Would it have hurt Luo Binghe the same way? Would it—?

Ugh. Luo Binghe rubs at his temples. There’s no use throwing about all these theories when he has no way to back them up. He needs to watch and learn more.

He refocuses on the memory.  

Yue Qingyuan has continued speaking while Luo Binghe thought. He tunes back in in time to hear Yue Qingyuan say, "Don't punish him any further, all right?"

Shizun was already pale when he woke up, suffering the pallor of those who are ill. He's regained none of his color during this brief conversation. Indeed, he seems to have grown progressively worse, especially after the interloper interfered with him. Yet now what little blood he managed to hold onto has drained fully from his face. He clenches his fan hard and wets his lips before he speaks to Yue Qingyuan.

"...You can just say it," Shizun says. "Where is he?"

A long pause stretches between them. As it goes on, Luo Binghe tries not to feel too pleased about how he killed Yue Qingyuan. It was strategic, given that Yue Qingyuan, as a mere head disciple, was the one to seal the previous Heavenly Demon Emperor; it was revenge against this man, for the way he always stood to the side and let Shen Qingqiu act as he would; it was, in Luo Binghe’s eyes, a bonus that killing him hurt Shen Qingqiu so severely.

It hurt Shen Qingqiu more severely than Luo Binghe quite intended. 

If Luo Binghe has one regret, it's that he didn’t realize the fault line that existed inside Shen Qingqiu. He spent so long trying to break his former shizun, paying him back a hundred-fold for every cruelty the man ever inflicted on him—yet with a single act, one whose consequences he didn’t fully comprehend, Luo Binghe cleaved him right down the middle. So accustomed to Shen Qingqiu's spite and refusal to break, Luo Binghe missed the warning signs, the gaping edges of that fatal wound. 

When he returned to that cell later, Xuan Su’s shards scattered across the floor right where he left them, Shen Qingqiu was dead. 

Bastard. He always had to have the final word, even at the very height of Luo Binghe's triumph, even when he was nothing more than a speechless worm crawling on the ground. 

...That man is long dead and gone. He exists only in memory now—Luo Binghe's memory, that is, because whatever small amount Shizun does remember of his own past, it's nothing near complete. It can't be. Not with the way that he acts. 

(Luo Binghe, once he deals with the interloper, should probably go and make sure that Shizun's memories never have a chance to come back at all. If they're what made the Shen Qingqiu of his world into such a putrid piece of scum, if their absence or reconfiguration has resulted in his to-be empress...well, there's no need to disturb his equilibrium by leaving the possibility of those memories returning, is there?)

Finally, Yue Qingyuan speaks. "Whenever you finish stringing him up and beating him, haven't you always shut him in the woodshed?" 

The memory plunges into abrupt darkness as the past version of Shizun loses his hold on consciousness. 

"Ah, Shizun," Luo Binghe murmurs. "So soft-hearted, aren't you?" 

Luo Binghe still dreams of those soft hands on him, wiping away the blood with a damp cloth and then spreading ointment over his wounds; he dreams of that warm body laid next to him, breaths slow and even in deep, trusting sleep; he dreams of long, smooth strokes of a brush through his hair, nimble fingers sneakily plaiting a bit of his hair, a braid he has yet to bring himself to untangle. 

Luo Binghe kept that braid as a reminder, an acknowledgment of who he was seeking, a wish that he was forcing to become reality. Soon, though, he'll have all that he wants. He’ll have Shizun completely, so he’ll be able to replace that braid with another, and another, and another. He can have Shizun's attentions lavished on him once more.

After so long, he has a kind Shizun of his own. 

He has more than enough information for one night. Luo Binghe will need to refine his ability to mimic the interloper's energy signature before he tries to unveil the true extent of these memories and what the interloper has done to Shizun. For now, he should let Shizun rest; he needs to recover from his flare-up. No matter how delicately Luo Binghe works, no matter the layers of sleep he wrapped around Shizun, he knows that what he's done already was a strain on the mind. A mild one for now, but one that will continue growing if Luo Binghe pushes it any further. 

Luo Binghe leaves the Dream Realm. He wakes in Shizun’s gifted room. Shizun has shifted, curled up on his side now rather than flat on his back, a faint furrow between his brows.

Ah, Luo Binghe really wasn’t cautious enough, was he? He'll have to use a deft touch as he continues. He'll make sure there's no way the interloper realizes what he's doing; he doesn't want it to lash out against Shizun for Luo Binghe's actions. 

‘Will automatically mete out punishment,’ Luo Binghe recalls, a fractured threat that was nonetheless chilling as much as it was infuriating. 

That punishment won’t be allowed to happen, not again, and especially not on Luo Binghe’s account. He won’t move incautiously. 

Sighing, Luo Binghe stretches out the arm his head was pillowed against. His thumb brushes over that little furrow, a spark of qi trailing in its wake, smoothing out whatever purely physical pain Shizun is feeling. He'll check in on Shizun's dreams again later, once his mind has recovered somewhat from how Luo Binghe has disturbed it, so that he can calm the ripples he left in his wake. He’ll prepare bracing tea for when Shizun wakes, plus a hearty meal to help Shizun regain his strength. 

"Sleep well, Shizun," Luo Binghe says. Then he stands and, reluctantly, he leaves.

Chapter Text

After Shen Qingqiu’s Without-A-Cure flare-up (and the, ahem, medical treatment provided by Luo Binghe), things change between the two of them. Or, well, perhaps it’s not fair to say that they change. What happens is that Shen Qingqiu finally allows himself to see what’s been there all along:

Luo Binghe really doesn’t mean him harm.

For all his promises, his actions, even the fact that he swore on Zheng Yang, Shen Qingqiu hadn’t believe him. Hadn’t allowed himself to believe him. Hadn’t wanted to, because—because it forced him to confront the ways that he hurt his disciple and how desperate Luo Binghe is to return to the life they had together.

Shen Qingqiu ripped that from his grasp when he threw his disciple into hell, when it’s become apparent that it was a life Luo Binghe craved so deeply that he sought its return in any way he could have it once he clawed his way—early!—out of the Abyss.

Not that Shen Qingqiu can say Luo Binghe is handling those urges particularly well. He did still kidnap Shen Qingqiu, after all! Shen Qingqiu is technically a prisoner!

…He can’t say that he wouldn’t have tried to run if Luo Binghe had turned up on Qing Jing Peak, expecting to slip back into the spot he left. Shen Qingqiu would have never been able to stop himself from seeing a trap in every action he took.

When being held prisoner, Shen Qingqiu knows that he’s being kept in the highest comfort because Luo Binghe wants to give that to him. If he wanted to torture Shen Qingqiu, he would do that: there’s nothing and no one to stop him. Here in the Demon Realm, he doesn’t have to play pretend—which means that he’s telling the truth.

Mostly, anyway.

He knows when Luo Binghe is keeping secrets from him, ah! His precious bun outgrew his guiltily lying face while they lived together in the bamboo house; often Shen Qingqiu knew he was lying anyway, because Luo Binghe would maintain a perfectly innocent expression even in the midst of what both of them knew were blatant untruths. When it was for harmless little things, Shen Qingqiu had indulged him—though perhaps he’d favored Luo Binghe with a few light taps of his fan in chastisement.

Luo Binghe doesn’t bother with that front anymore, which saddens Shen Qingqiu to some extent. If that’s the worse loss to the Abyss, however, he will count himself lucky. As it is, Shen Qingqiu gets the sense that Luo Binghe is simply trying to keep Shen Qingqiu out of the business of the Demon Realm.

Fair enough. Taking over an entire realm must be hard work! It’s only…Shen Qingqiu wishes Luo Binghe would be open with him. He wishes Luo Binghe would tell him of his adventures, and his accomplishments, and allow Shen Qingqiu to assist in some small way.

(Shen Qingqiu hasn’t been a prisoner for all that long—not even two weeks!—yet already he wishes for news of the outside world. He aches for knowledge that the world still exists beyond the walls of his chambers and Luo Binghe himself.)

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t press hard on that front, not yet. More important is readjusting his own expectations. Shen Qingqiu changed something along the way, altering the narrative to such an extent that Luo Binghe isn’t seeking revenge after even such a brutal betrayal, which means Shen Qingqiu—well, he needs to reassess. Luo Binghe isn’t quite the same Bingge that he was in the novel—the Bingge Shen Qingqiu expected to see—is he? In a way, Shen Qingqiu needs to get to know him anew.

The morning after his flare-up—after which Shen Qingqiu crashed and apparently slept through the rest of the day as well as the night—Shen Qingqiu wakes early. He assumes it’s early, anyway. The night pearls cast a dim glow through his bedroom, partially blocked by the gauzy curtains of his bed. Through them, he can see Luo Binghe has left an ewer of water on his bedside table, as well as a teapot with what’s probably a warming talisman attached to its side, a shallow box of some kind, and a small stack of books.

Shen Qingqiu props himself upright. He pushes the curtains to the side, reaching first for the water and pouring himself a cupful. This he nurses while checking his qi circulation, before he carefully nudges several of the night pearls to greater brightness. It’s only after he has finished his water that he picks up the note placed atop the stack of books.

It’s from Luo Binghe, of course. It outlines how Shen Qingqiu fell asleep during their lunch, remained asleep when Luo Binghe checked on him during what would have been dinner, and how Luo Binghe left tea and a snack box for him should he wake in the middle of the night. The books were in case Shen Qingqiu found himself unable to sleep any more; Luo Binghe didn’t want Shen Qingqiu wandering about and exhausting himself when he should be resting.

Shen Qingqiu rolls his eyes. He’s truly not an invalid, Binghe!

It’s overbearing, yet undeniably sweet. Shen Qingqiu decides to comply. He’s cozy and comfortable and Luo Binghe has provided all that he needs, so there’s really no need to force himself from his bed just yet.

He’s absorbed in one of the books—a collection of demonic folktales, which is fascinating! He wonders if any of them have a historical basis or if they’re all as fantastical as they seem; he doesn’t dare guess either way—when Luo Binghe knocks on his bedroom door, slipping inside immediately after. Shen Qingqiu lays the book down, only just realizing that he abandoned his teacup at some point and its contents are surely stone cold by now.

“Shizun is awake,” Luo Binghe says. “Does he feel up to eating breakfast?”

Yes, actually. Shen Qingqiu picked through the snack box, eating lightly from it. It whetted his appetite, so by now he’s ready for more filling food. Stronger tea, too—Luo Binghe left a light blend for him, which was lovely, but did nothing for the mild headache he woke with. Ah, well, that was likely caused by too much sleep and not enough food. Once he’s eaten and had more caffeine, it will go away.

“Of course,” Shen Qingqiu says. He lifts his bedcovers, sliding out from beneath them. Luo Binghe steps forward as if to stop him, pulling back even before Shen Qingqiu levels him with a narrow, unimpressed stare.

“Shizun should be resting,” Luo Binghe says.

“Not an invalid,” Shen Qingqiu reminds him. “Allow this master some face, won’t you?” He makes a shooing gesture. “Go, lay out the dishes while I get dressed.”

Shen Qingqiu’s still wearing his clothes from yesterday, after all. They were comfortable enough to sleep in, but having lounged about in bed wearing them does make him feel as though he’s currently prancing about in his pajamas, which isn’t helped by the fact that he only put on four layers yesterday. He was alone! He hadn’t fully started his day yet! He didn’t expect Without-A-Cure or Luo Binghe’s return!

Thankfully, Luo Binghe does as requested. Shen Qingqiu steps out of his bedroom less than an incense stick later. He’s put on more layers than he was wearing yesterday, but foregone arm guards or anything more elaborate for his hair than a simple hairstick.

For the first time, he sits down to eat and truly doesn’t hesitate. Luo Binghe clearly notices this lack of reservation, if the way his face lights up is any indication. He indulges Shen Qingqiu, picking the choicest bits of the meal to pass his way, and fusses over him, double-checking how Shen Qingqiu feels.

“This master is fine,” Shen Qingqiu assures him. Ah, he forgot Luo Binghe’s particular brand of concern when it comes to this! It’s sharpened a bit, but his disciple concerns himself far too much with his master’s health. He’s no better than any of his martial uncles.

Shen Qingqiu was right about the headache. It fades the more tea that he drinks. Shen Qingqiu could be suspicious about that, but Luo Binghe swore he wouldn’t drug the tea. It’s a bracing blend, strong and dark, so it has to be the caffeine helping him—assisted, if Shen Qingqiu had to guess, by the blood parasites. He could feel them working yesterday in the midst of his flare-up; he can’t feel them right now, but it might be a subtle working.

He certainly isn’t complaining.

“Shizun will tell this disciple if he feels poorly,” Luo Binghe demands more than he says.

As if he won’t know! Between his blood parasites—which Shen Qingqiu is now quite certain are easing his headache—and the way so much of his attention is focused on Shen Qingqiu, he almost thinks Luo Binghe will know he’s feeling poorly before he has a chance to realize it himself!

Indeed, Luo Binghe is remarkably solicitous over the course of the day. He bundles Shen Qingqiu up in blankets, which Shen Qingqiu refuses to admit does help him fight off the light chill he’s feeling; he keeps a small array of snacks at hand for in-between their meals; most of all, he sticks to Shen Qingqiu’s side, even when he really should be off finishing whatever battle he was involved in yesterday.

Selfishly, Shen Qingqiu doesn’t send him away.

He studies Luo Binghe, between his fussing and food and the peaceful moments they spend together, reading quietly to while the day away. He really…doesn’t know how to talk to Luo Binghe. He wants to know who his disciple is now, if he’s not entirely the white lotus Shen Qingqiu betrayed nor the blackened lotus of the original Proud Immortal Demon Way, yet he isn’t even sure where to begin.

What does he say? ‘Oh, Binghe, would you mind talking about the traumatic years you spent in the hell I tossed you into?’

Absolutely not! That seems like a great way to sour the mood between them or hurt Luo Binghe or re-traumatize him or—

So Shen Qingqiu doesn’t ask. Not directly. There have to be ways to talk around it. He can build his understanding of how and why Luo Binghe is different, and where those differences have come from, without being so blatant. Maybe from there, they can build up trust again. Maybe Luo Binghe won’t feel that he has to keep secrets from his shizun.

Even as he thinks that, Luo Binghe tips his head back. He’s sitting on the ground next to the divan Shen Qingqiu is laid out on, even as Shen Qingqiu had tried to convince him to at least sit in a chair or the divan across from him. He smiles as he stares upside-down at Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Qingqiu can’t help but smile back.

Luo Binghe offers him his medicine later that night. Shen Qingqiu grimaces as he swallows it down, using the last of his current cupful of evening tea as a chaser. He can’t say that xianxia medicine tastes worse than modern medicine—especially not in Airplane’s off-kilter, batshit world—but nor is it any better. 

At least there’s no cloying artificial flavors. Shen Qingqiu always hated those. 

It doesn’t taste any different than usual. Shen Qingqiu cares about this less because he has any suspicions about Luo Binghe, and more because he’s not sure how well any of Luo Binghe’s demon apothecaries or healers know how to treat humans or make human medicine. It took the likes of Mu Qingfang to make this medication in the first place, so he wouldn’t be surprised if there was a mishap while mixing it. If Luo Binghe feels comfortable handing it over to him, though, Shen Qingqiu has to assume it’s been made properly. 

“Thank you, Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says, both for the medicine and the way Luo Binghe refills his teacup, doctoring it with just a hint of honey the way Shen Qingqiu likes it after he’s eaten something too bitter for his tastes. 

“Of course, Shizun,” Luo Binghe demurs, glancing up at him through his lashes. “Anything for you.”

Shen Qingqiu hastily takes a sip of his tea. He isn’t sure why, but the way Luo Binghe looks at him makes him feel—makes him—well! Luo Binghe really needs to be more careful with his words! It almost sounds like—like words meant for someone else!

“Good night,” Luo Binghe says, sounding distinctly smug. “Sleep well. This Binghe will see you in the morning.”

Later, Shen Qingqiu sinks into his warm bath, Luo Binghe having graciously left him in peace for the night. It was too early for him to go to bed just yet, so he decided to bathe first. The chill that haunted him throughout the day finally fades, his feet and hands no longer feeling like blocks of ice, and the clinging feeling of illness sluices off him. In stark contrast to that, his face feels too hot. It must be because of the bath, but…

Anything for you.

He groans piteously, pressing the heels of his palms against his closed eyes until stars burst in the darkness. It does nothing to cool his face nor halt the echo of Luo Binghe’s voice.

Anything for you.

The medicine helped, but the headache lingers—or rather, it comes back the next morning. Again, it fades quickly, but it’s not a promising sign. Are the demonic energies inherent in the Underground Palace making his symptoms worse?

Certainly this flare-up felt worse than it usually does. Shen Qingqiu chalked that up mostly to him not having taken his medicine, but in combination with the Demon Realm’s unfamiliar energies, it must have pushed Without-A-Cure over an edge he wasn’t aware existed.

How wonderful.

Truly, this poison is the gift that keeps giving.

Luo Binghe wants him alive and healthy, though. Shen Qingqiu can probably safely assume that, should Without-A-Cure continually worsen beyond what can be treated here, Luo Binghe will drop the imprisonment scheme in order to take Shen Qingqiu to Mu Qingfang. No, he hasn’t been able to cure Without-A-Cure, but in managing its effects, he’s done better than anyone else in the jianghu could.

On the other hand, Luo Binghe seems so determined to find a cure for him, despite Shen Qingqiu’s attempted dismissal of that pointless quest. He might feel that he would lose his chance, should he return Shen Qingqiu to Cang Qiong. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t know what all Luo Binghe might do to avoid that possibility while still keeping him healthy, but the Protagonist will undoubtedly find a way.

Shen Qingqiu has been gone for just about a week and a half. He’s sure his martial siblings have worked themselves up into a great panic by now, given he—from their perspective—disappeared from Qing Jing without a trace.

With any luck, they’ll think he left on an unsanctioned night hunt. He’s done that before, so it’s not out of character! It will stave off their worry for a while longer.

…Given the state that Ming Fan found him in that morning, Shen Qingqiu thinks it’s distinctly unlikely  any of them will believe that.

He really needs to find some way to get in contact with Shang Qinghua. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t know if Luo Binghe has managed to get Mobei-Jun to swear his services to him yet—he’s so off-schedule with regards to the web-novel’s timeline it’s anyone’s guess what he’s done or who he’s met. If he has, news may well have made it back to Shang Qinghua’s ears that Luo Binghe is out of the Abyss years earlier than he was supposed to be. He’s probably panicking.

Not least because, if he knows that, then Shen Qingqiu’s abrupt disappearance takes on quite a different light.

Shang Qinghua would be right in guessing that Luo Binghe came for him, though he would be wrong about the reasons why Luo Binghe took him. Ai, this is giving him a second headache on top of the one that he already had.

Shen Qingqiu hopes Shang Qinghua keeps up with their plant schedule. He doesn’t truly believe (anymore) that Luo Binghe is going to hurt him, but it’s never a bad idea to have a backup plan.

They fall into a pattern.

There isn’t much that Shen Qingqiu is able to accomplish, locked away as he is, so his focus falls on Luo Binghe. He puts all his effort into relearning his disciple, figuring out when and where he can push, and therefore where he may eventually be able to persuade Luo Binghe against his current imprisonment.

Mostly what he learns from this is that Luo Binghe is uniquely talented at shutting down conversations that he doesn’t want to have. Not unkindly, but firmly.

Even that tells Shen Qingqiu something, he supposes.

He tries not to be impatient at his progress. Having to rely on the strength of the rumor mill is stressful when he has no idea what the rumor mill is saying or how quickly it’s turning. There’s nothing he can contribute, no way he can fight against Luo Binghe’s confidence that no one will find him here, and the worst part is…sometimes he doesn’t feel impatient at all.

He’s been living with a countdown to his dismemberment and death for so long that to have it suddenly taken away makes him buoyant. He floats through his rooms, sleeps far more peacefully at night, actually relaxes into life, prisoner though he remains.

The days pass syrupy slow, a long, ever-growing sprawl of them, one after another.

Luo Binghe continues to spend far too much time with him. It really is terribly similar to the way that they lived together in the bamboo house—though this time, Luo Binghe leaves to attend to his business of taking over-slash-running the Demon Realm rather than for night hunts or his classes, while Shen Qingqiu has no classes of his own to teach, nor the ability to leave his rooms under his own power.

Luo Binghe takes up the same duties he had back then: making all of Shen Qingqiu’s meals, collecting his dirty robes to be washed, dusting and cleaning, even tidying up the small messes Shen Qingqiu tends to leave behind himself…

“Does Binghe not have more important matters to concern himself with than this master?” Shen Qingqiu asks one evening. It’s been growing in his mind, this concern. He’s tried to feel out Luo Binghe’s experiences in the Endless Abyss, to no avail; likewise, he’s tried to discuss whatever his current adventures are. Luo Binghe hasn’t answered any of his questions about those topics, often turning his questions back upon him, so Shen Qingqiu is trying to ask from a different angle. Maybe Luo Binghe will answer if it’s more open-ended.

Luo Binghe seems to have found a new favorite spot for their evenings together. It’s the same one he chose that day after Shen Qingqiu’s flare-up, which means his former disciple always sitting in front of the divan where Shen Qingqiu is resting. It leaves him terribly close to Shen Qingqiu. It’s an effort not to reach out and pat that head, or run his fingers through the hair, especially when it’s in such easy reach. Used to be, he would do such things without thinking. Now, he’s not quite sure if it would be allowed.

Every day, the temptation grows. Eventually, Shen Qingqiu supposes he’ll find out if he’s allowed to go that far.

“What matters are more important than Shizun?” Luo Binghe asks. The way he twists to face Shen Qingqiu shows off the long line of his neck, the deep vee of his loosely tied robes. Shen Qingqiu’s mouth goes dry.

“Isn’t Binghe…” Shen Qingqiu starts, and then has to clear his throat, because it’s rather warm in here. That must be why Luo Binghe has allowed his robes to fall apart like that. Shen Qingqiu desperately looks back down at the book he’s cradling. Poetry. Love poetry, specifically; not Shen Qingqiu’s favorite, but the first book he grabbed from the shelf today as he makes his way through all Luo Binghe’s offerings to him. “That is to say…at that time, Binghe had to leave to do battle. Was everything truly so quickly resolved? Were there no further battles or matters to handle in the aftermath?” Luo Binghe isn’t gone for enough time each day to handle all of his empire building, not unless he’s managed to gather a prodigious support staff. It almost makes Shen Qingqiu wonder if he even is building an empire. “Is Binghe…”

“Is Shizun trying to be rid of me?” Luo Binghe interrupts. The words are light, yet there is a warning buried in them, just beneath the surface.

“No,” Shen Qingqiu says hurriedly. “But this”—he gestures around at the quarters where Luo Binghe has been spending so much of his time with his master—“can’t be all that you want from life. Binghe deserves…more.”

A great life. A great destiny. Ruler of not just the Demon Realm, but all the realms. Admittedly now that he has to live in it, Shen Qingqiu isn’t quite sure if he’s ready to deal with the combining of said realms, but that’s an issue far in the future.

An issue that may never arise, if Luo Binghe continues as he has.

Aside from that singular battle, he’s popped in and out of Shen Qingqiu’s quarters, but he hasn’t been gone for whole stretches of days again. In the web-novel, Luo Binghe was fighting near constantly, his territory ever-expanding until it was an endless sprawl. He kept going until he had significant portions of the Demon Realm in the palm of his hand, only then deeming it time to return to the Human Realm for his revenge against Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Qingqiu has been assuming Luo Binghe conquered a bare minimum—the Underground Palace, several of the surrounding areas, perhaps Mobei-Jun’s Northern Desert—before taking Shen Qingqiu. He must have returned to conquering after that, though. He has to have. He was so confident he could keep all enemies away from Shen Qingqiu, and what better way to do that than by controlling all who would oppose him?

Except even with Xin Mo, it just doesn’t seem possible. There aren’t enough hours in the day, not if he’s going at the speed he should be. Is he…taking over the Demon Realm at a slower pace? Focusing less on conquering, in favor of spending so much time with his shizun?

Is Shen Qingqiu holding him back?

Luo Binghe turns fully at this, his arms up on the couch so he can prop his chin atop them as he blinks languidly at Shen Qingqiu.

“What more could I want than Shizun?” he asks.

Shen Qingqiu’s breath catches. He doesn’t know why.

“You—” he says, nearly tripping over the words as he tries to get them out. “You could have—everything.”

He’s meant to have everything.

“Again,” Luo Binghe says, his dark eyes fathomless. Ravenous, Shen Qingqiu’s hindbrain whispers. “What more could I want than Shizun?”

Shen Qingqiu wets his lips. “Binghe is young still,” he says.

“Not that young,” Luo Binghe refutes with a lazy smile. “Before Shizun tries to tell me that I haven’t seen enough of the world, or that I need to consider what I truly want—I have, and I did, and the answer is Shizun.”

Since Shen Qingqiu was, in fact, about to say something right along those lines, he finds himself abruptly floundering. He doesn’t know how to guide this conversation in a direction that will convince Luo Binghe, not when he can’t justify how sure he is that Luo Binghe’s fate is so much larger than this small life with Shen Qingqiu.

Luo Binghe watches him scramble for something to say, that lazy smile—ah, no, that’s definitely a smirk—never budging.

“Maybe it’s Shizun who doesn’t know his own mind,” Luo Binghe says. “Are you ready to listen now?”

Now that’s simply unfair! Shen Qingqiu knows his mind perfectly well, thank you!

"Listen to what?" Shen Qingqiu asks tartly. 

There is a moment of silence between them. Luo Binghe says, "Maybe not, then." 

"Binghe," Shen Qingqiu warns. "What are you keeping from me?"

He isn't blind. He especially can't be called such when Luo Binghe has as much as said that he's keeping something from Shen Qingqiu!

"I'll tell Shizun eventually," Luo Binghe says. "When he's ready to hear it." 

Shen Qingqiu glares at him. "When did you get so unruly?"

"Away from Shizun all these years, did this Binghe have any choice but to change?" Luo Binghe asks. “I’ll tell you later, Shizun." 

There's nothing more that Shen Qingqiu will be able to pull from him, he can tell that. So he lets the conversation, such as it is, draw to its end. They move on to a different topic of discussion.

Shen Qingqiu has trouble falling asleep that night. He keeps turning it over in his mind. 

I'll tell Shizun eventually. When he's ready to hear it. 

What does Luo Binghe know—or think he knows? What is he keeping from Shen Qingqiu? 

(Why, when asked what he wanted, did he say he wanted Shen Qingqiu? 

Why does he keep saying that?)

Luo Binghe must notice Shen Qingqiu growing restless. Lovely as it is to spend so much time with his disciple—a disciple who isn’t seeking bloody revenge, and is as sticky as Shen Qingqiu remembers, if perhaps a bit crisped around the edges even when he does his best to hide that from his teacher—Shen Qingqiu has grown accustomed to a certain amount of stimulation in his life. The Original Goods may have been content with hiding away from everyone all the time, fun-hater that he was, but Shen Qingqiu isn't like that!

Shen Qingqiu likes exploring! He likes seeing Airplane's ridiculous beasts and visiting new locations and learning about the world he lives in! He likes teaching his disciples! He likes practicing his cultivation! 

Yes, it's occasionally nice to slow down for a bit. He has never said no to quiet evenings in his bamboo house, nor to the winter days when the heaviest snowstorms occasionally trapped himself and Binghe (along with the rest of Qing Jing Peak) inside their respective buildings. He doesn't like getting up early in the mornings, preferring to sleep in instead, though sufficient excitement about a night hunt or class might drag him more eagerly from his bed.

None of that means that he doesn't like the structure that has been built into his life. 

As Shen Yuan—well, as Shen Yuan, he did so little. There are modern equivalents to what he does as Shen Qingqiu, or he could have learned the older styles, but he just…didn’t. He didn't have the motivation for anything, nor the strength, if he's being brutally honest. Other than ripping into web-novels, that is. 

If transmigration has been good for anything, it's getting him out of the house, ha! 

There's only so long that he can deal with being stuck inside the same rooms. Shen Yuan had no problem with it, often having his food delivered while he avoided stepping outside his apartment door for as long as possible. Shen Qingqiu is different. 

He’s been keeping a little calendar for himself. He doesn’t have a water clock to keep track of the time, nor a window to watch the sun or stars wheel past, but Luo Binghe is as reliable a meter as any of those would be. He is always precisely on time when it comes to delivering food to Shen Qingqiu. After dinner, when he leaves for the night, Shen Qingqiu makes a new mark on his calendar.

(Before starting his calendar, he tried asking the System if it would keep track for him. It was—is!—still on the fritz. All he asked was how long it was since Luo Binghe took him!

Nearly a quarter shichen later, it told him, [Current time since System reboot: two weeks one day five hours and 39 seconds.]

Shen Qingqiu figured it would be easier to keep track himself. He resolved not to bother the System anymore unless he really needed something. The lags are too annoying. Zero stars for this update, it’s riddled with errors. Mods, aren’t you ever going to patch it?!)

As of now, it’s been three and a half weeks since Luo Binghe kidnapped him.

Shen Qingqiu is about to start clawing at the walls if he doesn't get some new stimulation at some point soon. 

Yes, Luo Binghe has provided all sorts of items with which to entertain himself. His quarters are expansive, larger than his old apartment and rivaling the bamboo house, if not outpacing it. He’s being incredibly pampered, cosseted at every turn in nearly every way by Luo Binghe—yet none of it is enough. Not compared to what he is used to, and especially not given where he is.

Shen Qingqiu is in the Demon Realm for the first time, in Luo Binghe's Underground Palace, and he doesn't get to see any of it. 

His attempts to cajole Luo Binghe into telling stories of his adventures have continually failed. Ever since he brought up Luo Binghe’s (apparently theoretical) other duties, Luo Binghe has doubled down on refusing to answer. He doesn’t seem to care what’s happening elsewhere. The best Shen Qingqiu has managed was to pull out a bestiary and go through it with Luo Binghe, though even then, Luo Binghe was rather noncommittal with regards to which of the beasts he has seen or fought.

They're still relearning each other. Their peace isn't so fragile that it would shatter immediately or irreparably if Shen Qingqiu did push Luo Binghe for answers or for greater freedoms, but Shen Qingqiu doesn’t want to strain what they’re building. He doesn’t want Luo Binghe to change his mind and realize that Shen Qingqiu isn’t worth the effort—or resent him for pressing so hard.

(Shen Qingqiu has missed this so much.)

So he doesn't push. And he's going stir crazy. 

If he could just get Luo Binghe to talk about even Mobei-Jun, he might be able to turn the conversation toward Shang Qinghua—assuming Luo Binghe knows that he's a spy yet—or otherwise direct the conversation toward other members of Cang Qiong. He's desperate for any kind of information. 

He wants out of this exquisite, beautiful, wonderful, gilded cell Luo Binghe is keeping him within. 

Luo Binghe obviously takes note of this restlessness. Shen Qingqiu isn't doing anything to hide it, yet it still comes as a surprise, the day that Luo Binghe finally leads him out of his quarters. 

The morning begins like any other. Luo Binghe brings him his breakfast, somehow perfectly timed to make sure it's piping hot and ready well within half a shichen after Shen Qingqiu begins to stir. He has no idea if he's waking up at the same time every morning, but Luo Binghe always has it ready when it’s needed.

He assumes the blood parasites are involved. Sometimes, if he pays enough attention, he feels them shift around inside him. Not in a painful way, though it definitely feels odd. He doesn't know what all they're doing. He tries not to think about it, if he's being honest. 

Given Luo Binghe's preoccupation with Shen Qingqiu's Without-A-Cure, he figures it's a good guess that Luo Binghe is attempting to either get rid of the poison or heal what damage he can. 

He may be able to handle the damage. Destroying the poison entirely? There's only one way to do that, and it isn't via the blood parasites. As ever, Shen Qingqiu is keeping his mouth determinedly shut about the cure. 

It really doesn't matter. There's no way that Luo Binghe would...that he could bring himself to...that he would want…or that Shen Qingqiu…

Anyway! The blood parasites! They probably keep track of whether or not Shen Qingqiu is asleep, so that's an easy marker for Luo Binghe to know when to begin preparing food. If he isn't directly keeping tabs on Shen Qingqiu's sleeping mind, that is, but it takes years of mastery to keep track of something like that while the dream master is awake, so Shen Qingqiu is pretty sure it can't be that. 

Pretty sure. Luo Binghe keeps surprising him. Who’s to say if his new manual, hard work, and robust spiritual power didn’t combine to help him leap ahead with his demonic cultivation as well?  

At any rate, Shen Qingqiu enjoys—perhaps a bit too much—that Luo Binghe is sitting prettily at the table, meal prepared and fetchingly spread out, when Shen Qingqiu steps out from his bedroom. 

Breakfast itself passes quietly. He and Luo Binghe talk enough over the course of the day, so it's fine for breakfast to be a quiet affair. Honestly, Shen Qingqiu isn't at his best in the mornings. He gets to sleep in, here in the Demon Realm, significantly more so than he did on Qing Jing when he had to be present for his morning classes, but that doesn't make him any quicker to fully wake up. 

Luo Binghe waits until Shen Qingqiu has finished the last of his meal before he says, "This disciple thought Shizun might enjoy an excursion today." 

Shen Qingqiu is glad he isn't holding anything right at the moment, or he probably would have broken it. Cup, fan, it doesn't matter—he didn't expect Luo Binghe might say something like this! Shen Qingqiu has been trying so hard to make inroads. Apparently Luo Binghe noticed, and he's decided to reciprocate. 

An excursion! Through the Palace? Where is Luo Binghe planning on taking him? 

"This master would not be opposed," Shen Qingqiu says, aiming for neutral and not quite hitting it, if the quickly smothered amusement on Luo Binghe's face is any indication. 

"Then allow me to escort you," Luo Binghe says. He stands, offering a hand to Shen Qingqiu. 

Shen Qingqiu takes it. After he is assisted to his feet, he takes a moment to double check what he's wearing. Though pulled from the various robes Luo Binghe provided him, it certainly isn't court formal. Nor did Shen Qingqiu bother with a particularly elaborate hairstyle, as he assumed he would, as always, be stuck inside over the course of the day. 

Well, at least he hadn't thrown an over-robe on top of his pajamas and called it good. If he'd had to take time to change what he was wearing, he's not sure he would be able to bear the delay. 

"Shizun looks beautiful, as always," Luo Binghe says, following the sweep of Shen Qingqiu's gaze with a once-over of his own. Shen Qingqiu's ears go red. Somehow it feels different when Luo Binghe looks him over than when he does it. And to say things like that! To his teacher, no less! 

"Binghe," Shen Qingqiu says, and then again, louder this time, as Luo Binghe lifts the hand he's still holding to his lips and brushes a soft kiss against the back of it. "Binghe!" 

"Yes, Shizun?" he asks, pulling back only slightly, those lips a scant few cun away from Shen Qingqiu's hand. The warm air of his breath dances across Shen Qingqiu's knuckles. 

"You," Shen Qingqiu says, floundering. He tries to tug his hand from Luo Binghe's grip; not only does he fail to pull himself from Luo Binghe, he finds himself being pulled toward Luo Binghe instead. As if they weren't close enough already! "What do you think you're doing?" 

"What does Shizun think I'm doing?" Luo Binghe returns. 

Shen Qingqiu doesn't know! That's why he asked! Is Luo Binghe truly so sticky that he can't bear to be separated? Admittedly, he’s been creeping steadily closer every day they spend together, constantly orbiting around Shen Qingqiu, all but plastered to his side. He continually sprawls against the divan where Shen Qingqiu lies; he tucks blankets around him or fluffs pillows for him; lately, during their bi-weekly meridian cleansing sessions, his hands have lingered over Shen Qingqiu’s afterwards, warming them between his own to make up for Shen Qingqiu’s poor circulation; he suggests jewelry or ornaments to accent whatever Shen Qingqiu is wearing that day, humming in a pleased way when Shen Qingqiu acquiesces; he has offered, more than once, to assist Shen Qingqiu in putting his hair up, though Shen Qingqiu has thus far refused these offers, as he has nowhere to show such styles off.

It’s been so omnipresent that Shen Qingqiu has begun tentatively reaching back out toward him in return: offering Luo Binghe choice bits of their meals instead of allowing it all to be heaped upon him; reading aloud to Luo Binghe; even finally giving into the temptation to play with Luo Binghe’s hair, which has his erstwhile disciple all but purring like a cat and makes Shen Qingqiu distinctly flustered whenever he realizes how deeply he’s tangled his fingers in Luo Binghe’s curls.

This is more than all of that. It’s—Luo Binghe is too free with his compliments, and he’s really too sticky! He's yet to release Shen Qingqiu's hand, instead lacing their fingers together.

"Does Luo Binghe think I'll try to run away?" Shen Qingqiu asks. 

Luo Binghe's fingers clench down, hard. Shen Qingqiu doesn't have more than a moment to notice the discomfort before Luo Binghe's grasp loosens again, though their fingers remain intertwined. 

"Of course Shizun wouldn't do that," Luo Binghe says. If his initial reaction hadn't given him away, the darkness in his eyes would. 

Shen Qingqiu decides that discretion is the better part of valor. He doesn't say anything to that. It doesn't matter if he might try to run in any other situation, especially if they were anywhere other than the Underground Palace—he isn't going to jeopardize his chance to finally get out of these rooms. He doesn't want Luo Binghe to take his offer back. 

Luo Binghe sighs. "Come along, Shizun." 

He tugs Shen Qingqiu behind him, leading the way to the door. This close, the weight of the wards is a heavy pressure; Shen Qingqiu should have spent more time examining it while Luo Binghe was gone to fight. Since then, he’s gotten this close before, but he's not sure if he set off an alarm or if Luo Binghe was simply paying close attention to the positioning of his blood parasites, because he arrived a suspiciously short amount of time after that. 

If it hasn't already been made abundantly clear to him, over and over again, Luo Binghe does not want him leaving. 

Unless, it seems, he can accompany Shen Qingqiu. 

Luo Binghe does something with his qi that feels tricky, now that Shen Qingqiu’s hand is linked to his and he has a better glimpse at what he’s doing to unlock the array. Then he steps out into the hall. Shen Qingqiu hesitates in the doorway, his arm outstretched to where Luo Binghe is waiting for him to join him. There's a part of him that almost worries this is a trap, or that Luo Binghe is trying to trick him. 

But what would he gain from that? And besides, didn't Shen Qingqiu decide to trust him?

Taking a deep breath, Shen Qingqiu steps through the door and back to Luo Binghe's side. Luo Binghe squeezes his hand again, soft pressure this time, and leads the way.

Curiously, there don’t seem to be many demons along the route they take. Or…any at all, actually. There’s no telling how many demons Luo Binghe currently has working for him, but despite that and the size of the Underground Palace, it’s statistically unlikely to the extreme that they wouldn’t see at least one servant somewhere. Luo Binghe must have ordered them away before allowing Shen Qingqiu to leave his quarters.

Apparently Luo Binghe, what, wants this to only be for the two of them?

…That’s rather cute.

Then again, it may only be because Luo Binghe doesn’t trust Shen Qingqiu not to make a run for it. If he’s distracted by servants or messengers or the like, Shen Qingqiu could slip away. Admittedly, Shen Qingqiu probably would do that, but only so he could find or pass a message to Shang Qinghua! He wants to know how Cang Qiong is handling his disappearance! Have they figured it out yet? Are they tracking down Luo Binghe?

The man in question has shared so little of the outside world with him.

This might be the opening Shen Qingqiu has waited for. If Luo Binghe is opening up to this extent, he may be willing to speak more about the goings on of the Realms, or at least he may keep up this pattern of behavior and allow Shen Qingqiu out of his rooms again. With that in mind, Shen Qingqiu should be on his best behavior today. No attempting to slip away, he swears. He’ll try again some other time, when Luo Binghe has dropped his guard.

Since he’s not looking for an escape, Shen Qingqiu can take in his surroundings as they walk. Which—aren’t actually very interesting. They’re hallways! There’s not much to them! It’s a lot of stone walls and branching corridors. There’s not much point in adding decorations to the halls when those same decorations could be saved for more important places, like personal quarters or guest rooms or the throne room or tea rooms or whatever the hell else exists inside the Underground Palace that needs decorating.

That isn’t to say there are no decorations. There are statues here and there, mostly at what seem to be dead-end hallways they stride past. There are a few random plinths featuring pottery or vases of half-dead flowers. Shen Qingqiu tilts his head as they pass one plinth in particular, which holds bright and lively Red Snapping Dragonflowers; they live up to their name by lunging for one of Shen Qingqiu’s fluttering hair ribbons as he passes.

Some other time, Shen Qingqiu would appreciate the opportunity to examine the scattered tapestries they pass. No few of them depict battles—is it Tianlung-Jun or one of the other previous demon emperors depicted among the crowds of demons there?—while others seem to depict hunts or landscape views of the Demon Realm. As it is, Luo Binghe tugs him past those quickly, obvious eager to reach their destination.

Shen Qingqiu has an inkling of where they're going even though it’s an adjustment, traveling through the corridors in person rather than reading about them in a book. Airplane didn’t give many descriptions of the Underground Palace itself, which is part of why Shen Qingqiu finds himself interested in the aesthetics of what he can see. What Airplane did describe, he made something of a hash of: he did such a poor job providing the layout of the Underground Palace that several readers (Peerless Cucumber included) attempted to make a floor plan of what it should theoretically look like, only to have to throw their hands up in confusion after a certain point. Eventually it became a joke that the Underground Palace must swap corridors around when it felt like it, given the wildly varied depictions of how close different sections of the Underground Palace were to each other.

Having lived in this world for long enough, Shen Qingqiu isn't so sanguine about the prospect of moving corridors. It seems unfortunately plausible.

At any rate, since Shen Qingqiu knows their starting point—nearer to Luo Binghe’s personal quarters than any of the far-flung guest quarters, going by how nice they are and the inclusion of the bathing pools—and he’s been keeping track of how long their walk is (not that long, really), he has a decent guess of where they could be heading. When they at last arrive to their destination, when Luo Binghe ushers him inside, Shen Qingqiu is half-expecting what he sees. That doesn't mean it doesn't take his breath away. 

The Underground Palace's library...

Yes, Shen Qingqiu has spent the past several years on Qing Jing, the peak of scholars. Their libraries are wonderful, great repositories of knowledge. Shen Qingqiu spent the first year or two after his transmigration discretely—and as quickly as possible—reading through as many of those libraries as possible, filling in the gaps on everything that he should already know as Peak Lord. 

(Admittedly, some of those books he read less out of fear that he might be discovered as an imposter, and more for his own personal edification.)

Shen Qingqiu also has a personal library inside the bamboo house. By necessity, it’s a smaller collection than any of the larger libraries on Qing Jing, primarily composed of personal cultivation manuals, reference material that Shen Qingqiu often needs, copies of his favorite bestiaries,  several works composed by either the Original Goods or himself, and, carefully hidden away in his bedroom where no one can find them, a few trashy fiction novels he's managed to get his hands on. 

Luo Binghe provided similar works on the bookshelves in Shen Qingqiu's chambers here (minus the novels, which are Shen Qingqiu’s secret), but to have access to the library—this isn't a collection of work composed by humans. This is all by and about demons. Their histories, treaties, techniques, stories—! If they exist in this world, so many of them have or will eventually find their way to this library, the historical and future stronghold of the Heavenly Demon bloodline. 

"Binghe," Shen Qingqiu says, overwhelmed. He doesn't even know where to start. How is the library arranged? Has Binghe had time to learn the organizational methods? Is this where Luo Binghe pulled that collection of demonic folklore from? Which entrance did they come through? What portion of the library have they entered? At a glance, Shen Qingqiu doesn't notice any of the markers that were mentioned in the novel, so either this is some unexplored corner, or perhaps those markers simply don't exist yet. 

He takes several steps forward, arrowing toward the nearest shelves, his hand sliding out of Luo Binghe's grasp. Luo Binghe doesn't try to hold him in place, though he follows close behind Shen Qingqiu as he pulls a book from the shelf. He'll take a moment to flip through the books in this section, just to see if he can figure out the general category and orient himself. 

Sun Chengyan sobs, pearly tears dripping down to leave glittering tracks across his pallid cheeks. “My lord, I swear, this humble scholar knew nothing of the plot against you!”

“Sun Chengyan had his suspicions, though,” Yang Xuanyuan says, his stormy eyes swirling like a tempest. “Yet he kept silent. Even after this lord welcomed Sun Chengyan into his home. Into his arms and bed.” He shakes his head. “There must be punishment.”

“Please!” the scholar begs, his tremulous voice wavering like bamboo in the wind. “Please, my lord, have mercy!”

“Mercy is not in my nature,” Yang Xuanyuan growls, low like a tiger waiting to strike. He squeezes his hands against the bountiful globes of Sun Chengyan’s rear, kneading them once, twice, before spreading them, peering at that already ravaged hole. His own turgid member throbs, ready shove its way inside to ravage that swollen, reddened hole further—

Shen Qingqiu yelps, dropping the book. Because his life is a cosmic joke, it lands on its back, and clearly someone has read this book before, because the spine is bent so that it opens up to a particularly lurid drawing depicting what obviously comes next in the narrative. 

Luo Binghe starts laughing from behind him. 

"Binghe!" Shen Qingqiu scolds him, both for the laughter and for not warning him. For bringing him to this section of the library at all! Oh, Shen Qingqiu should have brought a fan with him, because he desperately needs something to cover his face with. As it is, he uses his foot to nudge the book closed before he hastily picks it up and returns it to the shelf from whence it came. 

"Apologies, Shizun," Luo Binghe says, bright amusement in his voice. Shen Qingqiu still hasn't turned to face him, struggling to control whatever expression is on his face, which is why he's taken so off guard when Luo Binghe drapes himself over Shen Qingqiu's back, arms looping around his waist. Shen Qingqiu stiffens in place. Luo Binghe's breath tickles his ear as he says, "Most of these books were here already when I found the Underground Palace. I thought Shizun might enjoy them."

Your shizun certainly would not! Shen Qingqiu wants to protest, though it’s a filthy lie. That trash he pulled from the shelf—damn him, but he's curious, even as it was apparently of the cutsleeve variety. His meimei forced him to read her danmei back in his original world, so it’s not an entirely unfamiliar genre, though he hadn’t quite realized it existed in this world, too.

…Is it any better than the books he secreted away in the bamboo house? The ones Luo Binghe, as the one responsible for cleaning the house, must have discovered at some point? (So much for that secret.) Is it any worse? Why are there so many of them here in the Underground Palace? Are they demonic stories, or did humans write them? If so, who brought them here in the first place? 

Also! Luo Binghe! There are limits to the stickiness! Where do you get the temerity to attach yourself to your shizun like this?!

And why isn't Shen Qingqiu immediately telling him to let go?

"This master," Shen Qingqiu says, with all the dignity that he can muster, "is fascinated by the implications of such novels being found in the Underground Palace's library. How much of the library has Luo Binghe explored? I assume this is not the only section.”

"Mm," Luo Binghe hums. Shen Qingqiu holds himself deliberately still as Luo Binghe nuzzles against him, his nose brushing against the shell of Shen Qingqiu's ear. "Most of it, at this point. There's sections Shizun should stay away from, though."

This position is—very distracting. Shen Qingqiu stares quite forcefully at the spines of the books in front of him, unable to absorb a single title. "Why is that?" 

Luo Binghe shrugs, a whole body movement with him wrapped around Shen Qingqiu as he is. "It's dangerous," he says. 

"How so?" Shen Qingqiu isn't sure he remembers anything of the sort from the novel, but then, this is the early days of Luo Binghe's reign and life in the Underground Palace. By the time the library made its first appearance in the novel, perhaps the dangers of which Luo Binghe speaks had already been removed or otherwise dealt with. The Palace was abandoned for decades, meaning all sorts of creatures could have moved in. That doesn't even get into the fact that it's a demonic palace, with all the potential for traps—or dangers solely troublesome for humans or spiritual cultivators—that that entails. 

"Shizun needn't worry about it," Luo Binghe says. "This lord will show Shizun the appropriate areas of the library."

Shen Qingqiu barely contains a snort. So this is an appropriate area, is it? 

“Besides,” Luo Binghe says, “this lord forgot to include any of this type of novel when originally stocking Shizun’s bookshelves. He would hate for Shizun to be deprived—”

All right, that’s it! Shen Qingqiu shoves his elbow back into Luo Binghe’s stomach. It’s a soft hit, all things considered—Shen Qingqiu can’t get much power into it with Luo Binghe plastered against him as he is. Luo Binghe nonetheless lets out an unconvincing oof, loosening his hold on Shen Qingqiu enough so that he can wiggle free.

Shen Qingqiu fastidiously straightens his hair and adjusts his robes to hide any wrinkles from where Luo Binghe was clutching him. Surreptitiously, his gaze lands on the book he pulled earlier, carefully committing the title and author’s name to memory—so that he can avoid it later, obviously!

Liu Su Mian Hua, ah? He’s never heard of them. Not that he, you know, pays enough attention to those kinds of authors to know! 

Shen Qingqiu turns on his heel, stalks past Luo Binghe, and heads further into the stacks.

Luo Binghe trails along behind him.

Shen Qingqiu sincerely hopes that there’s more to this wing of the library than yellow books. He doesn’t think he’s going to have that much luck finding other kind, though. Now that he’s looking, a great many of these titles seem—suspicious.

He is not making mental notes of any that seem particularly interesting.

“Where did these all come from?” Shen Qingqiu mutters to himself. He glances over his shoulder at Luo Binghe.

The man in question shoots him a grin. “Most of them were here already. The previous inhabitant had a taste for them.”

Shen Qingqiu has serious questions about Luo Binghe’s father. He should have grilled Airplane for more information about Tianlang-Jun when he had the chance, even if it was pretty likely that the shitty author wouldn’t have remembered anything of value.

…Is it bad that Shen Qingqiu is a little excited at the prospect of getting his hands on some of these books? Just for curiosity’s sake, of course! It’s a whole new era of books! The Original Goods may have been alive while plenty of these books were written and coming out, but they certainly never made their way to any of Qing Jing’s libraries. If the Original Goods ever read them—which Shen Qingqiu sincerely doubts—he didn’t keep them around afterwards.

For good reason. Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t, either. Obviously.

On the other hand, Tianlang-Jun actively amassed an extensive collection! Shen Qingqiu has to wonder how old he was when he met Luo Binghe’s mother. Just how much time did he spend in the Human Realm? It’s a large collection.

Anyway, none of this matters, because it isn’t like Shen Qingqiu is going to take any of these back to his rooms! His face isn’t thick enough for that. He doesn’t know anyone whose face would be!

Determinedly, Shen Qingqiu keeps walking through the library. It would be nice to take something back to his rooms, if he isn’t taking anything from this section. He’s even coming up to a gap in the shelves, which may lead to a different genre in the library. Ooh, a history of the Demon Realm written from a demon’s perspective would be interesting…

Luo Binghe’s soft footsteps become that little bit louder as he speeds up. His hands settle on Shen Qingqiu’s waist, spinning him around in a little half-circle so that they’re facing each other once more.

“Not that way,” Luo Binghe says pleasantly. “This lord hasn’t finished clearing it out just yet.”

Contrarily, Shen Qingqiu makes to tug himself free from Luo Binghe and go there anyway. Maybe he can help clear out whatever’s causing the problem! He is a Peak Lord, after all, and he flatters himself to say that he knows a great deal about demons and monsters of all sorts—

“No, Shizun,” Luo Binghe growls, fingers digging into his hips with bruising force. Little pricks of almost-pain erupt where Luo Binghe’s claws have dug deep into the silk covering Shen Qingqiu; not enough to actually score his skin, but enough that he notices.

As fast as that, Shen Qingqiu remembers that he’s still technically a prisoner, one who was trying to be on his best behavior today. Even faster on the heels of that thought is his reflexive sympathy toward Luo Binghe, as his disciple releases him and pulls back like he’s been burned.

“Apologies,” Luo Binghe says, expression stiff, eyes wild, calling to mind a child who has cracked a vase and is unsure if he can fix it. “This disciple—Shizun shouldn’t go that way yet.”

For the briefest of moments, Luo Binghe almost looks scared. Why? Because he snapped at Shen Qingqiu, when they’ve so recently come to their accord? Because he’s so concerned about the danger in the library and how it might affect Shen Qingqiu? Because of some other reason, which Shen Qingqiu has no way to guess?

In the end, the reason isn’t important. All that matters is soothing away the crease that’s made its way between Luo Binghe’s brows. Luo Binghe shouldn’t have to worry about such matters, ah! Shen Qingqiu meant for this trip to gain him further freedoms, not to spook Luo Binghe! Beyond that, he…really doesn’t like seeing that look on Luo Binghe’s face.

“It’s all right, Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu soothes him. “It was this master’s fault. If Binghe says not to go further into the library than this point, then this master will listen.”

Luo Binghe crushes Shen Qingqiu against his chest in an impromptu, unexpected hug. He’s so very sticky today. Yet Shen Qingqiu can’t deny how nice it feels, to be folded up in Luo Binghe’s embrace like this, enveloped in his arms and robes and scent—

Well. All Shen Qingqiu is saying is that he thinks he might understand a bit better why Binghe would occasionally snatch hugs from him back then. Shen Qingqiu isn’t as a small in comparison to the present day Luo Binghe as a white lotus Binghe was to his master, but…it’s deeply comforting, to be the one safely tucked away in the circle of someone else’s arms.

Even with his disciple fully grown, it may well be the same impetus driving him to clutch at Shen Qingqiu now as he did then. It’s different—they’re both so different now—but parts of it remain the same. Ah, his poor Binghe, still needing such comfort from even so paltry a source as his master…

Shen Qingqiu understands, but that does not mean he’s going to allow this to continue forever!

“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says, when he judges that this has continued on for quite long enough.

“Mn,” Luo Binghe says, ignoring Shen Qingqiu’s tactful hint.

"Binghe," Shen Qingqiu says again, firmer this time. "How old are you, to still be clutching at your master like this?" At least he isn't in tears, but Shen Qingqiu can't help feeling the situation is on a knife's edge, and such a breakdown might be just around the proverbial corner. 

"I'll never be so old that I do not want to keep Shizun close to me," Luo Binghe mutters into his hair. 

This child. Rushing his way back from his solo night hunts, rushing his way through the Abyss, rushing back from the battlefield—he can hardly stand to be apart from Shen Qingqiu for long at all, can he? 

...If he's being brutally honest, Shen Qingqiu isn't very good at being separated from Luo Binghe, either. 

So he lets Luo Binghe keep holding onto him. At least for a little while longer. 

Chapter Text

Things are progressing quite nicely with Shizun. Not that Shizun seems to entirely notice what Luo Binghe is doing...but he doesn't protest, either. Well, he does, but not as strenuously as he could, and he keeps allowing Luo Binghe to inch his way ever closer. Luo Binghe steadily encroaches on his space, retreating a tiny bit whenever he feels he's truly pressing his luck, but Shizun—ah, Shizun. He keeps leaning in. He keeps allowing Binghe to get closer. 

He could fight, as he had when Luo Binghe first brought him here. He could retreat back into that cold and determined silence. He could press Luo Binghe for the answers he seeks, even if no few of them are ones that Shizun doesn't (yet) consciously want to acknowledge. 

Shizun doesn't.

Luo Binghe has seen this with some of his wives before: ones who pretended to be uninterested or combative toward him, when time and careful prodding—or encounters with spring medicine or strange artifacts—revealed that in truth, they desired Luo Binghe. The front that Shizun puts up is only that: a front. A façade, which he is perfectly sanguine about Luo Binghe chipping away piece by piece. Luo Binghe has no doubts that Shizun’s thin face will remain even after they finally come together, but Shizun’s clear interest peeks through it when Luo Binghe looks.

Let him cling to the comfort his face provides him. Luo Binghe won’t begrudge him it.

What he does begrudge is his progress in the fight against the interloper. He’s not made nearly as many leaps there as he has in his relationship with Shizun. 

The damned thing is too good at hiding, while Luo Binghe must be far too cautious scenting out its trail in turn. If he alerts it too early—if it tries to continue hiding itself and harms Shizun in the process—if it decides to punish Shizun in light of its discovery—if a battle must rage inside Shizun's mind to rid him of it—

Luo Binghe can’t take the chance.

It’s overwhelmingly frustrating. 

It will be worth it in the end, but that’s poor comfort in the moment.

He doesn’t have to watch each memory of the past six years intently anymore. Instead, he’s fine-tuned his senses so that he can pick out which memories contain the interloper’s power. He can sift through swathes of Shizun’s mind all at once, only focusing on those parts of it which catch inside his mental sieve.

There’s far too many of them touched with the strange electric-and-blue feel of the interloper.

There are so many moments of Shizun’s life touched by this monster. It leans over his shoulder constantly, watching all his actions, interfering in his life, pushing and prodding at Shizun in ways that frustrate or inconvenience or hurt him.

Luo Binghe sees it all. Or most of it.

In truth, he isn’t able to see the interloper’s interactions with Shizun in full, even now. His ability to imitate the interloper’s energy isn’t flawless. He only ever catches stuttering little parts of orders or the arguments—constant arguments, his beloved is a fighter!—that the interloper holds with Shizun. He hates the way the interloper talks down to Shizun, as much as a voice without inflection can speak down to anyone.

He flicks through memories. One other thing he notices over the course of it: the interloper seemingly has it out for the imposter child.

He suspected that from the way the interloper forced Shizun’s hand at the Immortal Alliance Conference. What’s worse than that is the way the interloper punished Shizun for daring to be kind to the imposter child right after he woke from his qi deviation. Shizun is inherently kind—and the interloper didn’t want him to be.

Shizun tossed the imposter child medicine, and the interloper threatened him. Shizun subtly defended the imposter child from Ming Fan, and the interloper punished him. Shizun defended the imposter child from the rest of the bullies, and the interloper punished him further. Shizun so much as smiled at the imposter child, and the interloper chided him for his actions.

(Luo Binghe watched that confrontation with Ming Fan in the forest, but couldn’t get all the way through it. He didn’t wish to watch his past self search fruitlessly for his lost Guanyin pendant. He didn’t want to watch Shizun watch him fail like that. He skipped past it, putting it in the back of his mind where he needn’t think of that long ago loss.)

Luo Binghe will admit to pausing during the mission to Shuang Hu. The interloper is distressingly present during it, obviously interfering in Shizun’s running of the mission. That isn’t what makes him pause, though.

He finds himself entranced by the sight of Shizun, stripped down to his pants and bound with Immortal Binding Cables. The thin red ropes criss-cross over his chest, contrasting with his pale skin, squeezing at his pecs and framing his dusky nipples. When he wakes, the way his biceps flex while he strains against the ropes makes Luo Binghe’s mouth water. The bullied expression on his face is nearly more than Luo Binghe can bear.

It’s good that the Skinner Demon is long since thoroughly dead. Otherwise Luo Binghe would have to cross back into that other world to hunt it down for daring to see—and then touch!—Shizun like this.

(Later in the waking world, that delectable vision swims in front of Luo Binghe’s eyes. He wonders if Shizun would ever let him recreate that scene. He bites down so hard on his lip as he comes that it splits open, blood spilling onto his pillow.)

The interloper seems to lessen its restrictions upon Shizun after that mission, but not greatly. It dogs his every step, it forces him to throw the imposter child into danger during Sha Hualing’s invasion, it nudges him into accepting specific night hunts, it never leaves him be.

Luo Binghe doesn’t understand its purpose. He doesn’t understand what it wants, from Shizun or from the imposter child’s pain, no matter how many half-memories he watches.

Frustratingly, he hasn’t caught a trace of the interloper elsewhere in Shizun’s mind. He’s set various subtle tripwires throughout Shizun’s mind, which should tell him when the interloper is present. In Shizun’s memories, it was so continually present that it must have been living inside Shizun’s mind the same way Meng Mo lives in Luo Binghe’s.

Now, there’s nothing to be seen. It’s nowhere in Luo Binghe’s mind that he can see.

He felt that surge of power when he held Shizun during his nap. He hasn’t felt a similar surge since. If the interloper draws its power from Qing Jing as he half-suspects, did he cut it off from its source? Was that surge its last attempt to curse Shizun? Or is it biding its time, waiting for Luo Binghe to make some kind of mistake?

Where is it?

It’s driving him mad.

What is a comfort to him is waking each morning and being able to see Shizun whole and healthy. Shizun isn’t free of the interloper yet, but the day approaches steadily. Luo Binghe monitors Shizun to make sure none of his efforts on that front are harming him; the headaches Shizun experiences in the mornings are due to the use of his dream arts, though Luo Binghe attempts to soothe them away after his night’s work is done. He worries that it’s his interference with and impersonation of the interloper that’s causing the pain, even without the interloper present to compound the offense.

He’s paying exceedingly close attention to Shizun's health. 

...Using his blood parasites, he's paying attention to all of Shizun. Luo Binghe usually doesn't bother with this level of constant sensory focus: it takes a lot of effort to so finely tune his awareness to be always distantly aware, rather than letting his blood parasites do as they will and only checking in with them as necessary. Luo Binghe simply doesn't care about anyone else to the extent that it would be worth his time to use up this much concentration. 

However. 

Since he is paying such close attention. 

Luo Binghe doesn't think it will be much longer before he may try talking with Shizun about Without-A-Cure again. Or 'talking,' as the case may be. 

Shizun isn’t oblivious. No, Luo Binghe has the sense that a large portion of Shizun's attitude is willful blindness. He simply refuses to see or understand, even as Luo Binghe raises the threshold each time they interact, his intentions becoming steadily more obvious.

It's cute, if mildly infuriating. 

Luo Binghe doesn't think Shizun is aware of how often he betrays himself or if he's allowed himself to acknowledge that he harbors such interest at all. Even from that very first moment after Luo Binghe swept his bride-to-be away, Shizun was looking at him. Taking in the changes since 'he' and Shizun last met, yes, but Luo Binghe's blood heats every time he remembers the way Shen Qingqiu's gaze dipped down toward his lips, an unconscious gesture of interest. He felt how Shizun kissed him back, both after the flare-up and inside the subsequent dream. He watches how relaxed Shizun gets in Luo Binghe's presence now, and felt how fast Shizun’s heart began to beat when Luo Binghe did something so simple as kiss his hand. 

Shizun allows himself to be pushed further and further. All Luo Binghe needs to do is tip him that last bit off the edge. 

They visit the library again on several more occasions. Luo Binghe takes little detours along the way, showing off portions of the Underground Palace, carefully cleared of anything suspicious, and different routes to get to the library. The main library, that is: there are other, smaller ones also available, which Luo Binghe is currently using to store all the books that he doesn't want Shizun to be aware of just yet. Allowing Shizun access to those would spoil the game they’re playing.  

Eventually he’ll have to come clean, but he’s delaying that for as long as possible. He can't let Shizun know the differences—of which there are a great many—between their worlds just yet. Luo Binghe’s world is a good two hundred years distant from the point in time of Shizun’s world. So very much of this world has changed in that time: the destruction of the righteous sects, the merging of the realms, Luo Binghe's own long rule as emperor. 

It will be an adjustment for Shizun.

For now Luo Binghe plays at building his empire; at clearing the Underground Palace of two decades of neglect, infiltrators, and squatters; at being so similar to the disciple Shizun lost. They were once the same person, weren't they? Luo Binghe isn't so far removed from the imposter child that he can’t imitate him to this small extent. It's easy to slide right through the gap in Shizun's defenses, directly into Shizun's life. 

Directly into his heart. 

Luo Binghe grows bolder with his touches. Lingering closer and closer, holding on for longer, and Shizun never makes him let go. 

Shizun, Luo Binghe thinks, hiding his smile in the man's hair, one morning after he’s finally been granted permission to style it for the day. I'm going to ruin you. 

He balances his seduction. He loves the casual, increasing intimacies between them, but that’s not all that’s needed to make Shizun fall. Much as he would love to keep Shizun sequestered away, where none but Luo Binghe can touch or steal him away, he knows that it would make Shizun wilt like an under-watered flower. He might grow to resent Luo Binghe for it.

So he allows Shizun his little freedoms. Shizun does seem to appreciate it. Certainly the trips to the library improve his mood immensely, as do the carefully chosen sections of the Underground Palace Luo Binghe allows him to see. Conveniently, both of their quarters are fairly close to the library, while further away from the old remnants of the harem and the pavilions where they lived.

Those few women who remain in the Underground Palace—the demons pledged to his service, if no longer to his hand, and those cultivators like Ning Yingying or Liu Mingyan who stayed out of duty or old friendship (and, in the case of his former martial sisters, for their relationship with Sha Hualing)—are alerted when to stay out of Luo Binghe's way. There is no danger of him and Shizun running into someone they aren't supposed to. 

That does mean Shizun isn't going anywhere without Luo Binghe. Not that he would have let Shizun roam in any case: there remains too high a chance that, even now, Shizun might attempt to run. He wouldn't get far, but if he escaped the Underground Palace—it wouldn't take him long to realize the differences between how the world should be compared to how it currently is. 

So Luo Binghe takes him on his excursions, gradually leading Shizun through different parts of the library, once he has checked to make sure there is no dangerous information held within them. They work their way through poetry, plays, bestiaries, etiquette, histories of the Human Realm alongside treatises or epic tales out of demonic history (largely propaganda, of course), and more. Shizun voices his surprise at some of the available selections, but Luo Binghe wasn't lying when he said that a good portion of these books were here before he moved in. Tianlang-Jun is far from the only Heavenly Demon who held this palace as a stronghold, so there are centuries of books and scrolls and manuals and (haphazardly collected) loose sheafs of papers here. 

Shizun delights in it all. 

(Luo Binghe can't help but note that he does, in fact, slide a few of the yellow books into the stacks of books he takes with him. He's fairly certain he sees one of Mingyan's among them. He'll have to ask Shizun his opinion on it. 

Luo Binghe did end up having a conversation with Ning Yingying, even after Liu Mingyan filled her in on the most important details. She wasn’t pleased at the prospect that she would have to stay away from Shizun once he was in their world; currently, she and Mingyan both are far from the Underground Palace, off on night hunts, the better for Yingying to avoid the temptation of seeing Shen Qingqiu again.

He doesn’t understand Ning Yingying’s lingering feelings—not all of them negative—for the man who was their shizun. He pointedly avoids talking about it with her. The few times he tried, toward the beginnings of their relationship, even after Shen Qingqiu was imprisoned…didn’t go well.

They learned to avoid the topic.

At any rate, he thinks it could be entertaining to set Shizun and Mingyan loose on each other. In a controlled environment, and only when he’s fully assured that Mingyan won’t try to kill Shizun for bearing the same face as Shen Qingqiu, but it would surely be a sight to behold.

That, or they’ll get along like a house on fire. Luo Binghe thinks he might be a bit nervous if that ends up being the case.)

Shizun is fascinated by everything he sees inside the Underground Palace. Oh, he tries to keep his interest relatively muted, but it’s not buried so deeply that Luo Binghe can't see it. Where Luo Binghe's shizun had only disdain for demons and the Demon Realm, this one is endlessly excited, poking around at every bit of the Underground Palace Luo Binghe shows him. It makes Luo Binghe disappointed that they're not yet at a point where he can take Shizun into other parts of the Combined Realms to show off monsters and beautiful sites. 

Someday, perhaps. For the moment, he works on building a menagerie to gift to Shizun, purposefully choosing beasts from the most impassioned lectures inside Shizun’s memories or the pages of bestiaries where he lingers longest. He thinks Shizun will appreciate seeing them in real life, if not in their natural environments.

There are still parts of the natural world he can show Shizun within the Palace, though. 

One morning after they've had breakfast, when Shizun has allowed a bit of impatient expectation to filter onto his face, Luo Binghe takes Shizun to a new location. 

The Underground Palace is exactly as its name suggests: underground. There are portions of it closer to the surface, even portions of it that open up partially to the sky, though they’re heavily fortified and have to be protected by a complex series of enchantments. However, most of the Demon Realm is—was—a place where it was difficult to grow plants. Those that survived there are hardier than many of those in the old Human Realm. More than a few of them adapted to live underground in places like the Palace or the other strongholds of demons, though plenty of them still require careful tending and specialized diets. 

Emperor as he is, Luo Binghe has long since had enough time to restore the Underground Palace to its former glory. That involves restoring the various gardens to their full health and glory.

Today, Luo Binghe takes Shizun to one of those gardens. 

He chooses the garden connected to his own quarters, which themselves are only half a hallway down from Shizun’s. Luo Binghe still intends to wheedle his way into convincing Shizun to share quarters with him once they’re married, but for now they continue to live separately. 

By all rights, Luo Binghe could lead Shizun through his quarters to get to the gardens…except he worries what might happen should he do so. Luo Binghe keeps his rooms neat and organized, but he's lived there for a very long time. It shows. He could play it off if he had to, but it’s easier to avoid raising Shizun’s suspicions by staying out of them. For now. 

Beyond the evidence of his long habitation in those rooms, he has to consider what else might give him away: the as-yet-unanswered missives lying on his desk, pleas for support or aid, many of which are dated too far in the past for Luo Binghe to pretend he only just exited the Abyss; a few particularly useful artifacts he stole from many of the cultivation sects he destroyed; notes he made on various worlds he traveled to and his thoughts on how he might break down the barrier between his world and the kind Shizun’s world; even more besides that, small things Luo Binghe might overlook that could nevertheless prick Shizun’s suspicions.

…Another danger he can't forget is how tempted he may be to jump Shizun, should he get the man into his bedroom. 

Visiting Shizun in his bedroom is one—eminently tempting—thing. Luo Binghe only ever brought his wives into his own chambers for sex. He might not be able to contain himself if he sees Shizun there. 

So instead Luo Binghe leads them around to a side entrance to the garden, placed there so that gardeners can tend to the plants without intruding on Luo Binghe's personal space. Luo Binghe steps through first, holding open the door so that Shizun can follow him. He wants to see Shizun's face when he catches his first glimpse of Luo Binghe's private garden. 

Shizun doesn’t disappoint. He steps through and gasps. 

"Oh, Binghe," he says in obvious wonder, eyes darting every which way as he drinks it in. "It's beautiful." 

Luo Binghe's garden is set up to emulate the ebb and flow of day and night, the turning of the seasons. Not exactly as it exists in the Human Realm, of course, not when these plants are all demonic, but then, all the light is illusion anyway, coming from a carefully anchored array on the ceiling high above. Those of his wives who came from the Human Realm admired the simulation, too, often recreating it in their own gardens.

He hopes Shizun enjoys this.

He offers his arm to Shizun, who takes it, allowing Luo Binghe to lead him on a tour through the garden. It’s large, as these things go: so close to the emperor’s (and empress’s) quarters, of course it is. Demons don’t practice feng shui the same way human cultivators do, but there’s nevertheless a pattern to the way the garden has been laid out, the way that the energy flows through it and all the plants get along with each other.

Luo Binghe chooses a path that takes them on a wide, arcing swing through the middle parts of the garden. They pass by Chilling Canes and Ice Hogweeds, Daydream Berries and Aching Wineflowers, Aquatic Hundred-Leaf and Marsh Cockle’s Ivy, Coral Branch Plum Trees and Triple-Thorned Cricket’s Grace. Shizun’s head is on a swivel as he takes it all in, delight sparking in his eyes at the pollinators flitting about, Ghost Swimming Honeybees and Queen Slaughtering Beetles and Miller’s Widow Butterflies.

Their progression is slow, stately, the better to give Shizun all the time he wishes to enjoy these parts of the garden. Luo Binghe does have a goal here, though: a large ornamental pond is the center point of the garden, and Luo Binghe has long made use of the pavilion at the side of it, perfect for picnicking—or trysting.

Not that he expects to get so far today. Someday, someday, his constant refrain.

Shizun slips free of Luo Binghe’s arm once they reach the pond. He crouches right at the very edge of it, peering into the water. There’s nothing dangerous in the pond—not dangerous to a Peak Lord and a Heavenly Demon, anyway—so he leaves Shizun to it. Beasts fascinate Shizun far more than plants do, he’s found.

Tricolored Carp flit about beneath the water’s surface, occasionally rising to mouth at the open air in the hopes their visitor might toss them some food. Stone-jawed Toads rest on the far side of the pond or swim among the Tricolored Carp, carefully avoiding the beady-eyed Goldenhead Treasure Turtles that would gladly eat them.

It seems clear Shizun won’t want to go even as far away as the pavilion, so from his qiankun pouch Luo Binghe pulls out a blanket. He packed it in case of this exact eventuality. He spreads it on the ground, then unpacks his other qiankun pouch, this one dedicated solely to their lunch.

He doesn’t call for Shizun’s attention once that’s done. He merely settles himself comfortably in place and watches Shizun enjoy his little beasts. The food will keep until Shizun gets hungry. It’s at least half a shichen before they usually take lunch together.

Luo Binghe is greatly rewarded for his patience. When Shizun finally joins him, Luo Binghe tugs him down to his side, nearly in his lap. Shizun doesn’t protest. He does as Luo Binghe begins hand-feeding him the select delicacies and finger foods he prepared for their outing today, but quickly subsides, his energy channeled into enjoying their lunch—and into minor revenge.

Shizun’s idea of revenge seems to be feeding Luo Binghe in turn. It leads to him twisting in place, an unintentional revenge that has Luo Binghe fighting the urge to bite at him instead of the offered baozi. In the end, Luo Binghe can’t resist the urge to pull Shizun fully into his lap.

“Binghe!” Shizun says, cross and flustered.

“Shizun should try the sesame balls,” Luo Binghe says, ignoring this protestation entirely. He picks one of the balls up and offering it to Shizun. “I filled them with lotus paste today.” He pops it into Shizun’s mouth.

His fingers linger briefly against Shizun’s lips. He wonders. Shizun has allowed him so close. Even now he perches so prettily in Luo Binghe’s lap, giving only token protests. Instead of more sesame balls, perhaps it could be Luo Binghe’s fingers entering Shizun’s mouth. He could wet them, so that he might then be able to use the added slickness as an aid when sticking his hand down Shizun’s pants—

"Junshang," Sha Hualing says. 

Shizun slides out of his lap, back onto the blanket. He quickly fishes out his fan, attempting to hide the fetching blush on his face. Luo Binghe, for his part, is fighting the intense urge to rip Sha Hualing's head from her shoulders. It's only the long years of marriage and service between them—not to mention how Ning Yingying and Liu Mingyan would react should he kill their partner—that stops him from doing so. 

"This lord thought he said no interruptions," Luo Binghe grits out. Just because he isn't going to kill her doesn't mean he has to be polite about it. "What do you want, Hualing?" 

“There are several rulings which require my lord’s judgment,” Sha Hualing says.

“Push them off until tomorrow.”

“They’re time sensitive,” Sha Hualing says. And if she’s bothering to say that, if boredly, then he knows it to be truth.

"Fine," Luo Binghe says. He stands, offering his hand to Shizun to help him to his own feet. He'll escort Shizun back to his quarters before he takes care of this; he can't leave Shizun in the garden nor Luo Binghe's own rooms, even though they’re only a door away from them. The only thing worse than allowing Shizun into Luo Binghe's quarters would be to allow him unrestricted access to them while Luo Binghe himself wasn't present. 

"So this is him," Sha Hualing says, almost conversationally yet distinctly judgmental, as Shizun rises. Luo Binghe growls deep in his throat. If she dares to say anything and ruins this for him—!

Shizun flutters his fan in front of his face and says cooly, "We've met before, Saintess Sha."

"Of course," Sha Hualing says. "But that was so long ago, Peak Lord Shen—“

"Hualing!" Luo Binghe barks. He allows his zuiyin to flare, his eyes to flash. "Get out."

"As my lord commands," Sha Hualing says, offering him a bow that is not quite mocking, yet not far away from it either. 

They've known each other for far too long. They know exactly how to make each other angry. 

Luo Binghe takes a deep, calming breath as Sha Hualing leaves the garden. He can't let her get to him. Shizun is finally relaxed around him; if Luo Binghe shows too much violence or anger around him unnecessarily, he doesn't have a guarantee that Shizun will accept it. So Sha Hualing can get away with this. For now. 

...Shizun, when Luo Binghe looks at him, seems thoughtful. 

"Apologies, Shizun," Luo Binghe says, hoping against hope that this hasn't ruined anything. "This lord will escort you to your quarters, but then he will have to take his temporary leave." 

"I understand," Shizun says. He helps Luo Binghe collect the remains of their picnic, packing it away into its containers, before he allows Luo Binghe to loop their arms together once more. He stays silent, as Luo Binghe leads the way through the garden. He opens his mouth finally as they step into the hallway, which Sha Hualing has thankfully already vacated—she’s gone back to the throne room, no doubt. "Binghe has found himself powerful allies." 

"Hualing has her uses," Luo Binghe says. 

"Hm," Shizun says. 

Luo Binghe is certain he isn't imagining the sudden distance between them. Not physically, not with Shizun pressed against his side, but Luo Binghe feels cold as they enter Shizun's quarters and Shizun steps away from him. Shizun drifts toward his favorite of the divans, settling himself neatly down onto it. 

"Thank you for showing me the garden," Shizun says. "But...you should attend to your court.” 

Luo Binghe feels as though he’s missed a step in a staircase. As though he reached a fork in the path, and unknowingly took the wrong one. He has made a mistake here, somewhere. He simply doesn't know where. 

"Shizun," he says. 

"Binghe," Shizun returns. "You have more important concerns than this old man. Go and take care of them." 

There's nothing more important than you! Luo Binghe wants to shout. I abandoned this stupid empire for years, I would abandon it again for you! It can wait a bit longer. The only reason I keep it is to give you what you are due, to allow you to hold your rightful place as empress! 

He says none of that. Instead he allows his gaze to linger one short moment longer on Shizun's face, memorizing the expression half-hidden behind his fan, before taking his leave.  

Luo Binghe turns that conversation, brief as it was, over in his head while he handles matters in court. The rulings take nowhere near the length of the battles against the Opal Staining Rabbit tribes, but they consume the rest of the afternoon before beginning to encroach on evening. All of it is solved eventually, but everyone can tell that he is distracted and growing impatient as the arguments continue.

"Go back to him," Sha Hualing snorts, half-derisive, once everything is finally over and done with. 

"Have care how you speak," Luo Binghe snaps at her. 

"Of course, Junshang," Sha Hualing says. She sways off, the bells threaded in her braids and along the hems of her scant clothing ringing as she goes. Luo Binghe glares after her, but it's still not worth it to hurt her. Far more important is Shizun, and the strange melancholy that seemed to overcome him. 

Luo Binghe hurries back to Shizun's quarters. Turns off once he's nearly there, instead making his way to the kitchens. Shizun will be hungry by now; if nothing else, Luo Binghe's food will surely put him in a better mood. Their lunch was interrupted—Luo Binghe pressed the containers with the remnants of it all into Shizun's hands before he left him in his quarters, so it isn’t as though Shizun was left entirely without, but he’ll surely appreciate freshly made food. 

His favorites, to make up for whatever it is that went wrong. 

“Ah, Binghe,” Shizun says when Luo Binghe returns to him nearly half a shichen after he departed court. His arms are perhaps overfull with the dishes he carries, even balanced as they are on trays. Shizun half-stands at the sight of him.

Luo Binghe makes his swift way across the room before Shizun can get the rest of the way up or offer to help. If Luo Binghe isn’t the one doing this—if Shizun has to trouble himself when this is supposed to ease him—then the time Luo Binghe spent in the kitchens instead of returning immediately to Shizun will have been for naught.

He hurriedly lays out the dishes, adjusting them to make sure that the presentation is perfect. Only then does he look up at Shizun, who…looks quietly pleased at the array laid out in front of him, yet that indefinable air of sadness hasn’t budged.

It won’t last once he starts eating, Luo Binghe assures himself, nudging a particularly choice dish closer to Shizun.

Except Shizun only picks at the meal, no matter how much Luo Binghe piles into his bowl or which dish he offers him. Worse than that, Shizun seems distracted, barely looking at Luo Binghe. It’s not the anger the original kind Shizun displayed when he found out who Luo Binghe was (or wasn’t, as the case may be). Nor is it the ice-cold displeasure Shizun treated him with those first few days after bringing him to the Underground Palace.

No, it’s neither of those, but Luo Binghe has no idea what it is instead.

He can feel all the progress he made slipping through his fingers. He isn’t sure how to fix this. He can’t track how it all went suddenly, disastrously awry. He doesn’t know—

“What did I do wrong?” Luo Binghe demands.

Shizun finally looks at him for the first time this whole dinner, obviously startled. “What?”

“What did I do wrong?” Luo Binghe repeats. He can’t pinpoint the misstep. “Everything was fine, and now Shizun won’t even look at me!” No, no, maybe he can find the mistake.

The garden. It was after the garden. No—it was after Sha Hualing’s interruption. Before that, Shizun was so comfortably nestled against him, relaxed and faintly flushed. Then Sha Hualing interrupted. Shizun closed himself off.

The last time Shizun and Sha Hualing met—from Shizun’s perspective it was during the invasion of Cang Qiong. Shizun was poisoned because of her. Is he holding a grudge? Is he angry at Binghe because he dares to ally himself with the demoness who—as far as Shizun knows—permanently crippled his cultivation?

These calculations flash lightning quick through Luo Binghe’s mind.

“Binghe—” Shizun hardly has a chance to say before Luo Binghe is interrupting him.

“I’ll get rid of her!” he vows. The rims of his eyes burn, pricking with heat he hasn’t felt since the original kind Shizun turned him away in that other world. “If it displeases Shizun to see Sha Hualing, I’ll make her leave! Shizun will never have to bear her presence again, nor the reminder of what she did to him. Then Shizun can stop looking away from me—”

“Hush,” Shizun says. He stands and rounds the table, cupping Luo Binghe’s face in his palms, cradling and silencing him in one motion. His thumbs swipe gently against Luo Binghe’s cheeks. “Hush, now, Binghe. Who could ever look away from you?”

“Shizun obviously could,” Luo Binghe says mulishly. Not as mulishly as he could, though, given the comfort of Shizun’s hold on him.

“Binghe,” Shizun says, with another slow, steady swipe of his thumbs. “I am not the only one who might be looking at you. Binghe shouldn’t spend all his time and attention on this old man, not when there are”—and here his voice grows rather pained—“better prospects out there for him. Prospects which might advance his position in the Demon Realm, and—”

Luo Binghe allows this little speech to go on longer than he should, because he’s caught between violent emotions: unadulterated glee, at how Shizun has—perhaps unintentionally yet nevertheless so clearly—made his interest known to Luo Binghe; utter disbelief, that Shizun continually manages to miss the point.

How much clearer can Luo Binghe be? How much more obvious must his intentions become?

When will Shizun not just listen to him, but hear him?

“I don’t want anyone’s eyes on me but Shizun,” Luo Binghe states. 

“You say that now, but the alliances you could—”

“I don’t care,” Luo Binghe says. “I have all the power I need already. I don’t want Sha Hualing or anyone else. No woman that Shizun thinks I might desire truly interests me. I want Shizun.”

Shizun goes very still. “You—what?”

Luo Binghe is so tired of waiting. He’s made it as clear as he can. Now he’s said it aloud, again, in a way that surely can’t be misinterpreted. There’s one more way to make sure that the message gets through properly to Shizun, though. One way to ensure Shizun understands.

Shizun made a mistake, getting so close to Luo Binghe. He should have stayed on his own divan, the table separating them, rather than offering himself right up to the monster’s aching, wide-open jaws.

Luo Binghe grabs Shizun, yanking him down into his lap, then dives into a kiss.

Shizun lets out a muffled little grunt as he’s settled atop Luo Binghe, hands falling down from Luo Binghe’s face. Luo Binghe quickly snakes both hands around Shizun to help balance him where he half-kneels, knees spread wide to the sides of Luo Binghe’s thighs. If balancing Shizun like that just so happens to mean that Luo Binghe gets palmfuls of Shizun’s ass in the bargain, so much the better.

Most of Luo Binghe’s attention is focused on Shizun’s mouth. Shizun doesn’t kiss back at first, too startled, much as he was when Luo Binghe kissed him in order to pass qi. It’s not like that dream with the flower and Qin Wanyue, where Shizun relaxed quickly into Luo Binghe’s hold and the kisses laid against his neck and jaw.

That doesn’t matter. Luo Binghe is an experienced kisser, so it won’t take long to coax Shizun into responding.

Luo Binghe knows the exact pressure to use, the angle and depth to make a kiss feel like bliss. He knows precisely when to use his teeth and when to use tongue and when to pause for his partner to catch enough breath to continue, yet not wait so long that his partner might try to pull away. He’ll save the former two for once Shizun has relaxed a bit, but the lattermost—

He wants Shizun on the perfect borderline, dizzy from bliss and breathlessness alike, where he won’t even think to retreat.

Getting Shizun to relax doesn’t take near as long as Luo Binghe half-feared it might. Despite the initial hesitation, Shizun starts kissing back. His arms loop themselves around Luo Binghe’s shoulders to give him an even steadier seat than Luo Binghe’s hold on him alone could provide.

Shizun really wasn’t lying about having kissed before, more’s the pity. Luo Binghe had figured that was the truth (and wondered jealously who it was that claimed Shizun’s first kiss), but now he knows it. Shizun’s no raw beginner: he definitely knows the basics of what he’s doing. Luo Binghe can take some small comfort that Shizun does seem out of practice, as though it’s been years since he last indulged thus.

Luo Binghe intends to be the only one Shizun indulges himself with ever again.

He squeezes at Shizun’s ass again for his own indulgence, using the motion to ruck Shizun further against him. Shizun gasps shallowly as he does. That’s all the opening Luo Binghe needs.

Still, there’s no point being impolite about it. Luo Binghe allows himself the smallest taste, little more than a lick from the very tip of his tongue, before he retreats back to the closed-mouth, if passionate, kissing of before. He’s eager to see how Shizun responds.

Shizun doesn’t disappoint. His breathing has grown heavy, his lips now frantic as they press against Luo Binghe’s. Luo Binghe teases him, running his tongue along the crease of Shizun’s lips just to see what he’ll do—

Shizun groans against him.

Luo Binghe grips at Shizun with bruising force, fingers clenching down on silk layers and the flesh hidden beneath. He wants to crack open his ribcage and shove Shizun inside, keeping him safe and warm, a hidden place just for them, where he can never leave Luo Binghe.

As it is, the next best thing is to take Shizun up on his implicit invitation.

This time, Luo Binghe slips his tongue fully inside the cavern of Shizun’s mouth. Slowly, carefully, so that Shizun can get used to the intrusion. He wonders if Shizun has a particularly sensitive gag reflex. He can’t wait to see just how much of his cock he’ll be able to stuff down this man’s throat.

He runs his tongue across the soft palate of Shizun’s mouth. Shizun shivers delightfully against him. He wants to make Shizun do that again.

Well, there’s more than one way to make a man shiver.

Luo Binghe leaves his right hand possessively where it belongs, cupping Shizun against him, so close to that sweet hole only separated from him by a few layers. His left he shifts upwards. He trails along Shizun’s back, up his spine, between his shoulder blades—all of it in long, swooping movements. Nothing that would distract from their open-mouthed kissing and Luo Binghe getting his way at least partially inside Shizun, only that which would add to it.

He dances his way up Shizun’s neck, feather light, before burying his fingers into Shizun’s hair. Carefully, oh so carefully, but firmly enough that he can direct the angle of Shizun’s mouth that little bit better, can hold Shizun in place.

Oh, Shizun, Luo Binghe thinks. I didn’t give you a choice, but…you’ve really given me too much power.

He doesn’t hold Shizun in place like that for too long, tempting though it is. He has better ideas than that. It’s simple enough, even one-handed, to pull the pin from Shizun’s guan, then tug the ornament itself from Shizun’s hair. Luo Binghe lets it fall to the ground; if it’s damaged, so what? There are plenty of others to offer Shizun.

Luo Binghe runs his fingers through Shizun’s freed hair, smoothing out the bits that were pinned up until it all lies flat, then he settles that hand on the nape of Shizun’s neck. Honestly, Luo Binghe isn’t concerned about the neatness of Shizun’s hair, not when he intends to thoroughly debauch Shizun—but having his hair down for this makes such a pretty picture.

A picture that Luo Binghe briefly breaks their kiss to see. A thin strand of saliva still connects their mouths; Shizun’s lips are parted as he pants. His eyes are glassy, a high flush in his cheeks.

“Beautiful,” Luo Binghe murmurs. He swoops back in before Shizun can hope to recover or think to protest.

This time he does use his teeth, nipping lightly at Shizun’s lips. Not too hard at first—everyone has different tolerances, so it’s better to start light and work his way to finding the upper limits of what Shizun enjoys.

Shizun shivers again. Where his left hand lies against Shizun’s neck, Luo Binghe can feel his pulse pounding. He can feel it with his blood parasites, too: they move through Shizun’s veins and arteries and loop their way through his heart—first chamber, second chamber—into his lungs, back to his heart—third chamber, fourth—and then through his body, a heady rhythm that Luo Binghe can feel like it’s his own.

He slips his tongue back inside Shizun’s mouth. More aggressively this time, in part to see how Shizun responds, but in part because he wants to distract Shizun.

Reluctant though Luo Binghe is to release his hold on the swell of Shizun’s backside, he contents himself with shifting his right hand toward Shizun’s hip so he can subtly pluck at the sash holding Shizun’s robes closed. He has a doubled perception of Shizun’s rising interest: the insight of his blood parasites, which keep track of all the fluctuations in Shizun’s body, alongside the physical sensation of Shizun’s cock beginning to harden against him.

Oh, to get his hands on it!

If Shizun allows him, that is. Luo Binghe is keeping him distracted because there’s always the possibility Shizun will shy away. Luo Binghe hopes to at least get a hand inside Shizun’s robes, to touch that warm skin, even if he’s kept from touching that most intimates of spots.

To that end, the hand at the back of Shizun’s neck has its own mission: sliding around toward the front of Shizun’s neck, tracing the bottom curve of Shizun’s ear, dancing along Shizun’s jaw, until he’s at the correct angle to start tugging at the front of Shizun’s robes. This endeavor is made more difficult by the way Shizun’s arms are still wrapped around him, but again: Luo Binghe has plenty of experience in these matters.

Shizun makes breathy little noises of contentment as Luo Binghe continues to plunder his mouth. They're not whimpers, not quite, not yet; Luo Binghe is going to enjoy dragging tears and sobs out of Shizun, overwhelming him with pleasure until there's no other way for him to release those feelings. He'll treasure every sound that Shizun grants to him. This is only the prelude, the slick sound of their tongues a gorgeous duet that will grow and continue from here. 

Bit by bit, Luo Binghe's hands continue to work at Shizun's robes. The sash is untied, the ends of it draping in place. All Shizun's robes made looser by its absence, so that Luo Binghe will be able to begin flicking them apart with much greater ease.

Luo Binghe digs his thumb into the side of Shizun's hip, just for the muffled protest that earns him, before soothing away that mild hurt with a gentler touch. He strokes down Shizun's thigh. Not toward the inside of it, the vee wherein rests that lovely prize, currently pressed up against Luo Binghe's stomach. No, instead he strokes down the meat of Shizun's thigh, top and then back, hooking his right firmly at the underside of Shizun's knee. He wants to touch every single bit of Shizun's body. He wants to learn it in a much kinder way that he ever learned that bastard Shen Qingqiu’s body. 

Shizun is continually shaking now, a fine tremor moving through him. He mustn't be used to exerting himself like this. Immortal though he may be, pleasures of the body take time to adjust oneself to. Luo Binghe is giving him no such time. 

Bit by bit, Luo Binghe peels away the layers of high collars at Shizun's throat, tugging here and there until there is a tantalizing glimpse of skin. Not that he can see it, not busy kissing Shizun as he still is, but he's touching skin instead of silk now, hand wandering down, ready to fully shove aside the robes and leave Shizun's shoulders and chest utterly exposed, perfect for pressing new kisses against—

It’s funny, what you remember and what you forget. A memory can be near entirely forgotten, not thought of in decades, and yet it can come so easily rushing back at a smell, a sound, a taste.

A touch.

Luo Binghe feels the coarse thread of a necklace string around Shizun’s neck, so low quality compared to what he deserves. Then his curiosity leads him to follow the string down further, to what lies against Shizun’s chest. His thumb grazes over the body-warm pendant.

The world falls away.

He is ten, twelve, fourteen, clutching his mother’s last gift to him, thumb brushing along Guanyin’s face and folded arms and legs. He is praying in alleyways, homeless after his mother’s death, scrounging for enough food to survive the next day, huddling in cold corners during the long nights. He is carefully washing traces of tea from Guanyin’s face, the stain on her like the tears Luo Binghe refuses to shed ever again here on Qing Jing Peak. He is screaming as the necklace is ripped from him, Ming Fan laughing as he throws it into the bamboo, never to be seen again—a memory that, even two centuries away, he couldn’t bear to relive. 

Luo Binghe rears back, putting a bare bit of distance between them, enough for him to see. He doesn't have the time to once again appreciate the dazed look on Shizun's face, the tiny whine he lets slip as Luo Binghe releases him. He can't even appreciate the amount of skin suddenly exposed, the hint of one dusky nipple only barely covered by silk, nor the extent of Shizun's pleasured flush. No, all of Luo Binghe's attention is reserved for one thing only. 

It can't be, Luo Binghe thinks to himself. 

Yet when he takes in the figure of Guanyin, tied with a messy red cord, the chipped corner at the bottom left corner where Luo Binghe fumbled it once when putting back on after bathing—

It is. It undoubtedly is. 

"Binghe?" Shizun asks uncertainly. Luo Binghe hears it as if he is underwater, wavering and indistinct. 

"Shizun found it?" Luo Binghe asks. "Shizun kept it?"

Shizun is wearing it, even now? How long has he been wearing it? This whole time? It's not as though Luo Binghe ever fully undressed him; he very well could have missed this that first night when he put Shizun to bed, and it seems Shizun has been far more cautious about keeping it hidden than Luo Binghe managed back then. 

Luo Binghe doubts Shizun hid it intentionally from him. It seems far more likely that this is simply another facet of Shizun's grief. He buried Zheng Yang and spent so much of his time at the sword mound; likewise, he held this piece of Luo Binghe always close to him, next to his heart. 

"I should have returned it to Binghe long ago," Shizun says. He shifts in Luo Binghe's lap, arms loosening from around Luo Binghe's neck.

Luo Binghe feels the last tether of his control snap. 

It doesn’t matter that the Guanyin pendant originally belonged to the imposter child rather than Luo Binghe himself. It’s his to give as he wills, as is his heart. Let the Guanyin pendant belong to Shizun now, that’s fine, that’s perfect—but Shizun belongs to him. He'll not suffer anyone else to have Shizun, nor will he be separated from Shizun ever again. Not even by Shizun's own actions.

He won't allow Shizun to retreat. Not when Luo Binghe finally has everything he has ever wanted. 

Luo Binghe grabs Shizun, hoisting him briefly into the air while he repositions them. Shizun lets out a startled noise, clinging to him sweetly, before Luo Binghe lays him out on the divan, his unbound hair spread out like a dark halo beneath him. This time, it’s Luo Binghe atop Shizun. He makes sure to position himself so that he doesn't crush Shizun beneath him, but that's about all the consideration he can muster. The rest of him is busy removing Shizun's top layers. He cares no more for subtlety. 

"Binghe!" Shizun protests, before Luo Binghe silences him with a kiss. It's desperate, needy. Luo Binghe is the one panting now, feeling as if he's run li on end without rest, until even a demon and a cultivator's stamina combined isn't enough to stop him gasping for spare breath. 

Shizun kept it. Shizun's mine. 

"Mine," Luo Binghe growls into Shizun's mouth. His hands roam across Shizun's chest, his ribs, reaching up to pass over the Guanyin pendant. Touching it sends another burst of manic energy through him. 

"Mine," Luo Binghe says again, muttered against the curve of Shizun's jaw as he kisses his way along it. "Mine," he says again, teeth scraping over Shizun's fluttering pulse. He laves at the carotid artery, bruising it, feeling his blood parasites flood the area until they're on separated by a thin layer of skin—they're not there to heal, not yet, not when he plans to leave so very many marks on Shizun. 

"Nnn," says Shizun, and "Ah!" as Luo Binghe begins making his way further down Shizun's neck, leaving purposeful bruises and nips along the way. 

"Mine," Luo Binghe says, every time he pauses for a moment. "Mine, my Shizun, my beloved, mine forever." He sucks hard at the junction of Shizun's shoulder and neck, resisting the urge to bite down until that skin breaks, desperate to lap at Shizun's blood the way he made Shizun lap at his. No, no, he won't hurt Shizun, not unless Shizun asks him to. 

(Overstimulation, Luo Binghe decides immediately at this thought, isn't pain as such. To pull Shizun over the edge, again and again, until he's crying, sobbing pathetically from it, begging Luo Binghe to stop—that's an entirely different matter, one he'll take great pleasure in dragging from Shizun.)

"Mine, mine..." 

Pulling off of that spot with a wet pop, only to move right along to the next spot.

"My own, my beloved."

Licking along the line of Shizun's clavicle, reveling in the taste of his sweat, the heat of his skin. 

"Never to be parted from me, never to be taken from me again. Oh, Shizun. You're mine," Luo Binghe says fiercely.

"Ye-es," Shizun says, with obvious effort. Beneath Luo Binghe, his chest is heaving like a bellows. He never fully lost his hold on Luo Binghe, so his arms remain slung over Luo Binghe's shoulders. One hand clutches at Luo Binghe's back. The other is wrapped in his hair. 

Shen Qingqiu and every one of Luo Binghe’s martial brothers always did their best to keep him from attending his classes, whether that was learning swordplay or cultivation or the Four Arts. Luo Binghe struggled his way through swordplay and cultivation, despite all of Qing Jing’s efforts, but the arts? Those he mostly studied later in life, out of spite if nothing else, just to prove that they couldn’t keep that knowledge from him forever.

(By then, of course, he’d already become a master of other arts as well: blood and violence and sex.)

Laid out beneath Luo Binghe as he is, Shizun is a perfect canvas to prove himself upon.

His strategy skills have gotten him this far, a long game played until he captured all the territory he needed for victory, making his way—finally—to the closeness he craved. Now he’ll paint marks upon Shizun’s skin to rival any masterpiece on Qing Jing. He’ll wring poetry from Shizun’s lips and etch it onto his heart. He’ll learn every part of Shizun’s body until he can play with it with the same dexterity and fluidity his master plays his qin.

“Binghe,” Shizun says, his hips twitching, pressing up against the long line of Luo Binghe’s (very invested) cock. Luo Binghe has been focused on Shizun’s neck and chest, which means he’s left his poor Shizun neglected elsewhere.

Well, he entertained certain ideas in the garden earlier today, didn’t he?

Why not see them come to fruition?

Luo Binghe slides two fingers into Shizun’s mouth. Fucks them shallowly in and out, much as he’d done his tongue earlier, until Shizun is adjusted to them. Fucks them deeper, then, pressing down against Shizun’s tongue as he does. He adds a third finger, just for the pleasure of hearing Shizun choke a little at the newest intrusion. They’ll have to practice if Shizun ever expects to be able to suck his cock.

The thought of it is delicious. Oh, he’s so close to Shizun in so many ways. He’s pressed against Shizun, he’s wrapped all around Shizun, he’s (in some small part) inside Shizun—it’s bliss.

He sucks at another bare spot of skin on Shizun’s chest, tantalizingly close to one of those dusky buds. He pulls his fingers free from Shizun’s mouth and reaches between them, slipping his way into Shizun’s pants until he can take Shizun’s cock in hand.

Shizun makes a garbled noise that doesn’t manage to form any actual words. Luo Binghe strokes Shizun’s length, root to tip and back again, offering a friendly caress to his balls, enough to make sure that everything is evenly slick from the saliva he gathered. He strokes back up, pressing his thumb teasingly against the head of Shizun’s cock to feel the little spurt of pre-come released.

Luo Binghe rocks against Shizun, moving his hand alongside the movement of his hips. Shizun groans. The hand in Luo Binghe’s hair clenches tighter, while the other—

It’s Luo Binghe’s turn to groan as he feels Shizun fumbling at his waist, obviously aiming for Luo Binghe’s dick but baffled by the amount of robes in the way. Luo Binghe was far more concerned with stripping Shizun than stripping himself, which he now sees was an oversight.

Ah, well, he still has a spare hand. There are plenty of times when he’s needed to quickly strip—or at the least get his cock out—while already tangled with another, so it’s a simple enough matter to shift the obstructions out of the way until he can free himself and lay himself in Shizun’s touch.

As soon as he feels Shizun’s slender, calloused fingers wrap around him—most of him, he’s too thick for Shizun’s fingers to fully close—Luo Binghe bites down. Hard. Harder than he meant to: he tastes blood in his mouth. Shizun’s fingers squeeze punishingly in reaction, obviously unconsciously done, but Luo Binghe groans again at the glorious sensation. As an apology to Shizun, he calls his blood parasites to life, sealing the mark he just made—yet not healing it entirely. 

He licks his lips before lapping at Shizun’s chest, chasing away those last traces of blood and ensuring a bruise remains where the bite once was. Shizun’s blood is human, salt and copper and with no special power held within it, except for how it makes Luo Binghe tingle with the knowledge he has a part of Shizun inside him.

While continuing to nibble at Shizun’s chest, his hand moves up and down Shizun's length. Shizun returns the favor, more hesitantly but growing steadier and more confident as they keep going. Luo Binghe isn't sure it's ever felt so good to receive such an admittedly clumsy handjob. It's artless and awkward and Luo Binghe's brains are boiling in his skull. Sex is great, sex is fun, and yet he never knew it could feel like this. 

It doesn't take much longer before Shizun is spilling into Luo Binghe's hand, letting out a sharp cry as he does. That sound hooks at Luo Binghe's gut; he jolts, fucking into Shizun's abruptly laxer hold. One hand is still down Shizun's pants, holding his spent cock, so it's the other he snakes between them and uses to tighten Shizun's grasp, folding and squeezing their hands together over his dick. 

Luo Binghe is rougher handling himself than Shizun was. He forces Shizun to match the punishing pace Luo Binghe so often utilizes when by himself. Given his stamina, it's often the fastest way to get himself off. Shizun's callouses are similar to his own, with just enough of a difference from how much more frequently he plays the qin or holds paintbrushes to be titillating as they stroke him. 

Luo Binghe makes sure to rub himself against the front of Shizun’s pants, the damp silk a delicious drag. He's close, he's so close now—he's been waiting so long for this, and now he finally has it—he's not even kissing at Shizun any more, merely lying there with his face mashed against Shizun's lean chest as he trembles—Shizun's grip tightens infinitesimally, under his own power rather than Luo Binghe forcing him to squeeze—the edge of his nails scrapes against Luo Binghe's throbbing dick—

Luo Binghe tips over the edge. 

He empties himself atop Shizun's pants and soft cock and stomach, a lovely layer to cover what Luo Binghe had not yet managed to reach with his mouth. He props himself upright so that he can take in the sight of it: reddened bite marks all along the top half of Shizun's chest, creamy white spend decorating his abdomen, some of it going high enough that it almost looks like pearls of milk dripping down from Shizun's teats. 

His dick twitches at the thought. Shizun's grip tightens on it, which is not as discouraging as he likely intended it to be. 

"Give this old man time to catch his breath," Shizun wheezes. 

Luo Binghe glances up at Shizun's face. He looks...thoroughly debauched. Luo Binghe smirks. 

He waits until Shizun meets his gaze. Then he pulls his hand out of Shizun's pants and sets about thoroughly cleaning the come from his fingers, maintaining eye contact the whole while.

Or as long as Shizun lets him, anyway, because he immediately flushes red and slams his eyes shut. 

He's so cute. 

Luo Binghe finishes cleaning up that hand, the taste of Shizun's blood and come mingling together in his mouth. He tugs Shizun's hand off his dick, to Shizun's embarrassed little mumble; a bit of Luo Binghe's own come covers those fingers, which Luo Binghe laces together with his own so that their hands lie intertwined at his and Shizun's side. Then Luo Binghe settles down on top of Shizun to rest for a bit, utterly content.  

Chapter Text

So. Apparently Shen Qingqiu has been operating under a crucial misunderstanding this whole time. Luo Binghe didn’t kidnap him: he bridenapped him!

Yeah, Shen Qingqiu figured out Luo Binghe didn’t want vengeance, but at most he thought Binghe wanted to recreate their years on Qing Jing and all the time they spent together in the bamboo house as teacher and disciple. That’s what Luo Binghe said!

…Amongst many other pointed comments, some more recent than others. Many of which have become significantly more clear in hindsight.

Hm.

“Is this what Luo Binghe was waiting to tell me?” Shen Qingqiu asks some time later. It comes out almost wry, mostly embarrassed, as he strokes through Luo Binghe’s hair. The man himself is  flopped atop Shen Qingqiu, keeping him warm even as the sweat from their, ah, exertions cools. Other, tackier substances are drying as well, which Shen Qingqiu is trying not to be hideously embarrassed about.

“Mm,” Luo Binghe hums, distinctly smug. He nuzzles his face further into the crook of Shen Qingqiu’s neck, brushing against one of the many marks he left there. His touch sends a little spark of co-mingled pain and pleasure through Shen Qingqiu.

He breathes out slowly, riding that out. His hand in Luo Binghe’s hair doesn’t falter, even as he keeps circling back to that central thought.

He bent the Protagonist?!

No longer swept up inside the moment, no longer blinded by the high of their mingling, Shen Qingqiu has a bit more time to think. He doesn’t get why Luo Binghe could possibly be interested in him, not when he has so many others that would throw themselves at him, not when he’s supposed to have six hundred wives—!

Yet Luo Binghe has stated, over and over, that he doesn’t care about that.

I. Want. Shizun.

What more could I want than Shizun?

Before Shizun tries to tell me that I haven’t seen enough of the world, or that I need to consider what I truly want—I have, and I did, and the answer is Shizun.

Shizun looks beautiful, as always.

And perhaps most damning of all, This disciple will keep up his promise to Shizun from back then: I’ll give it to him every day, with variations.

Everything that he’s given to Shen Qingqiu, the food, the finery and decorations and care gone into his quarters, the excursions—oh, those were dates, he was taking Shen Qingqiu out on dates!—through the Underground Palace…

Even now, just before Luo Binghe made his feelings explicitly clear—everything he said was about Shen Qingqiu. About whatever they were—are, now—to each other. Luo Binghe’s panic, his despair, the glimmer of yet-unshed tears in his starlit eyes—it was in reaction to what Shen Qingqiu said, about alliances and opportunities and, well, people who couldn’t look away from Luo Binghe.

(Shen Qingqiu very much included, as he’s come to realize since reuniting with Luo Binghe. Well, it only made sense, didn’t it?! Luo Binghe was canonically the most beautiful man—the most beautiful person—in the world! How was Shen Qingqiu supposed to resist?)

In the garden, with Sha Hualing—everything seemed so clear. Of course Luo Binghe had already suborned Sha Hualing to his command, even in this topsy-turvy timeline. She was one of the few demons Luo Binghe knew; she sent Meng Mo to him; she invaded Cang Qiong. He knew her strength and how good an ally she could be.

She was one of his first wives.

Shen Qingqiu hadn’t expected the ugly jealousy that arose in him at the sight of her. Nor was he particularly well equipped to handle the grief rising as his next response. No matter what Luo Binghe said, no matter how frequently he professed to wish to spend his time with Shen Qingqiu, Shen Qingqiu knew how this story went. Binghe’s wives would pull him away, jealous of his attentions toward his washed up old teacher. Shen Qingqiu would be left alone, his life shrinking around him, withering away as he waited and longed for Luo Binghe’s return.

Maybe he’d been a bit too obvious about that. Certainly Luo Binghe noticed. Shen Qingqiu never imagined that he might hurt Luo Binghe with that assumption! He thought that, if it hurt anyone, it would only be himself. 

Foolish of him, in hindsight. 

Even when he does his best to distinguish himself from his predecessor, Shen Qingqiu somehow keeps hurting Luo Binghe. Thoughtlessly, artlessly—but he does it. 

Luo Binghe, scrambling to figure out “what he did wrong” and how to fix it. Frantic, overwrought—didn’t it remind Shen Qingqiu of those awful moments in front of the Abyss? Then, too, Luo Binghe had begged so desperately for his shizun to let him fix this.

Shen Qingqiu hadn’t been able to listen to that then, not with the System forcing his hand. He cut Luo Binghe off. Now, he wishes he’d heard Binghe out. He wishes he hadn’t said all those cruel words to him.

It’s a miracle that Luo Binghe was willing to forgive him. His white lotus is charred, quite severely in places—yet not, it seems, when it comes to Shen Qingqiu himself.

No, Luo Binghe has an entirely different set of feelings toward Shen Qingqiu than he could have ever seen coming.

He has to wonder what it means for his—their—future. It was one thing when he accepted that he would be Luo Binghe’s prisoner for the foreseeable future, kept close in a gilded cages. It’s another to look at the same situation from this new perspective.

Luo Binghe is, by all accounts, uninterested in what would have been his harem. Is he—does he intend to marry Shen Qingqiu? Most anyone Luo Binghe had papapa with in the novel ended up married to him eventually. Of course there were a few one-off maidens here or there, or the infamous example of Luo Binghe’s on-again, off-again relationship with Madam Meiyin—

Hmmm. That fortune reading takes on a different light now, doesn’t it? Moving on, not thinking about that!

The point is, no matter what Luo Binghe decides, but especially if he makes their relationship any sort of public, they’ll have visitors coming to call.

Sha Hualing has already seen Shen Qingqiu in person. Shen Qingqiu hasn’t personally seen any of the servants, but he has to assume they were only just out of sight. Now that Luo Binghe is allowing Shen Qingqiu even small freedoms when it comes to leaving his quarters…

How much longer can this all be kept quiet?

“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says, hand finally stilling in Luo Binghe’s hair. “You can’t expect to keep all this secret. Not permanently. What are your plans concerning Cang Qiong? How will you handle their reaction?”

“I’m not sharing Shizun,” Luo Binghe says. “You’re mine.”

Sticky and possessive, is his disciple.

“You can’t keep me here forever,” Shen Qingqiu says gently.

Luo Binghe shifts in place, propping his chin up against Shen Qingqiu’s bare chest, eyes gone red and predatory. His zuiyin pulses. “Can’t I?”

Shen Qingqiu changes tacks. “Don’t you want to go home, too?” he coaxes. “Don’t you want to visit Ning Yingying or—any others on the mountain?” Not because Ning Yingying is a potential wife anymore, apparently, but Shen Qingqiu is at least confident in saying that they are (were? No, are, surely) friends.

Shen Qingqiu tried to encourage Luo Binghe to make friends back then, he really did! He’s…pretty sure Luo Binghe made a few? Maybe? Shen Qingqiu was always shooing Luo Binghe out the front door of the bamboo house so that he wouldn’t waste all his time with his teacher.

…In hindsight, this also takes on a different light. Surely Luo Binghe didn’t…even then…? Except maybe he did. Shen Qingqiu isn’t sure how much success he ever had at fostering new friendships for Binghe. Certainly he was never all that successful at getting his disciple to go out.

Even when he thought he was, it often turned out that Luo Binghe had slipped back inside while he wasn’t paying attention.

Like he said: sticky.

With that in mind, it’s not surprising when Luo Binghe says, sounding disinterested, “I already saw everything that needed seeing when I came to fetch Shizun. The only home I need is Shizun.”

Admittedly sweet, though it very much misses the point.

“But,” Shen Qingqiu starts, willing to press further.

“This lord has plans in place,” Luo Binghe says. “Shizun needn’t worry about it.”

“…You aren’t going to hurt them, are you?” Shen Qingqiu asks warily. Did he only delay the razing of Cang Qiong? Or will it still occur because of him, simply in a different context?

“That depends on what actions they choose to take,” Luo Binghe says and oh, but that really won’t stand.

“Get off me,” Shen Qingqiu says coldly. He pulls heavily on his teacher’s voice, the one that has, in the past, always had his disciples jumping before he could even indicate how high.

Most unfortunately, Luo Binghe seems to have gained an immunity to this voice. He doesn’t shift so much as a cun, not even when Shen Qingqiu presses a hand against his shoulder and shoves. Luo Binghe’s response is to grab that hand, pressing it up to his lips so he can mouth at Shen Qingqiu’s palm.

“Binghe!” Shen Qingqiu says.

“I’m not leaving Shizun and Shizun isn’t leaving me,” Luo Binghe says, allowing Shen Qingqiu to snatch his hand back. “You’re mine.”

Not officially, Shen Qingqiu thinks, half-spiteful. Not yet.

“And what about this master’s desires?” Shen Qingqiu demands.

Luo Binghe’s eyes go half-lidded. “Please, Shizun. Tell me all about your desires.”

Even with what they’ve just done, Shen Qingqiu flushes. Luo Binghe makes it sound so salacious. It is, of course it is, but that’s only because Luo Binghe is doing it on purpose. He’s attempting to distract Shen Qingqiu from the matter at hand.

“You know what I meant!” Shen Qingqiu says. “Luo Binghe, you may not wish to return to Qing Jing, heavens only know why, but I—”

“Who cares what the heavens know or think?” Luo Binghe interrupts him. “Who can dare to tell this lord what to do?”

Shen Qingqiu falls silent at this proclamation. There is truth to it. Who can argue with the Protagonist?

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe sighs. “I don’t wish to argue. Haven’t you been happy here with me?”

“That’s not the point.”

“That’s also not a no,” Luo Binghe observes. His chin digs into Shen Qingqiu’s chest as he snuggles against him. “Shizun has been enjoying it here, I’ve seen it. He’s been healthier here. Once it’s safe, once the time is right, this lord will show Shizun all the beasts and sights and wonders he could possibly wish to see.”

“So you will keep me from Qing Jing forever.”

“How long was this disciple gone from Qing Jing and Shizun’s side?” Luo Binghe asks, soft and dangerous.

Shen Qingqiu wets his lips. “Two years,” he says hoarsely. Several months over that, if they’re being scrupulously accurate—and he’s quite sure Luo Binghe wants absolute precision here. Shen Qingqiu has an inkling where this may be going.

“It seems to me,” Luo Binghe says silkily, “that Shizun owes this lord at least that much time in return, to make up for what was lost.”

Shen Qingqiu remains silent.

“Doesn’t Shizun agree?” Luo Binghe presses.

Shen Qingqiu swallows. He’d expected to pay for his crimes with his life. Two guaranteed years of luxury with Luo Binghe—that’s nothing in comparison. This should be considered a good deal, a great deal. Luo Binghe even set it as a one-to-one offer, instead of going all in to make it a ten-fold or hundred-fold of the time he spent away.

“Yes,” Shen Qingqiu manages, and, “Lord Luo is gracious.”

This makes Luo Binghe frown. His gaze searches Shen Qingqiu’s face, which Shen Qingqiu holds as blank as porcelain. Yet if there is anyone who has made an art-form of interpreting Shen Qingqiu, it’s Luo Binghe.

“Shizun disapproves.”

“This master would not dare.”

Luo Binghe huffs out a laugh, utterly devoid of mirth. “This lord thought he would never see such a look on Shizun’s face again.”

Shen Qingqiu works even harder to maintain that blank expression, even while his heart aches. He isn’t quite sure what Luo Binghe is reading from him. It can’t be anything good.

“Fine,” Luo Binghe says. “This lord will consider other possibilities going forward.”

Not a guarantee that he’ll ever actually follow through, but it’s better than the outright refusal of before. It gives Shen Qingqiu room within to work.

“And Cang Qiong?”

“If it means so much to Shizun,” Luo Binghe says flatly, “I’ll try not to kill them, should anyone from Cang Qiong come sniffing around here.”

Again: not a concession, but better than Shen Qingqiu could have otherwise expected.

“Can’t Shizun simply be happy here?” Luo Binghe asks sullenly.

Shen Qingqiu takes a moment to consider this. Could he be happy here?

Luo Binghe said it himself earlier: barring Shen Qingqiu’s own misunderstandings, in many ways and to a rather startling degree…he already is.

Yet it is also true that he misses Qing Jing and the life he built there. He’s put so much time and effort into caring for those disciples—

And he was prepared to abandon them all, when a post-Abyss Luo Binghe came to call. Reconnecting with them had never factored into any of the plans he considered for after he woke up in the mushroom body.

Luo Binghe moved up the timetable, but this was never unexpected. Shen Qingqiu was always going to lose Qing Jing, one way or another. Just because he isn’t dead doesn’t mean he gets to keep it. He should have known that. At most, his concerns now should be focused on Qing Jing’s panic at the situation and how Cang Qiong as a whole might respond.

(‘Should be’ doesn’t mean he can’t miss it anyway.)

It’s been over a month now since Luo Binghe took him. They’re searching for him, he’s sure. He hopes Liu Qingge isn’t running himself ragged or blaming himself for not being there when Shen Qingqiu disappeared. He hopes Yue Qingyuan is able to focus on his duties as Sect Leader and isn’t driven to distraction or into danger due to his fondness for the Original Goods. He hopes his disciples are continuing their studies and keeping his home clean for his eventual return; he hopes Zheng Yang’s sword mound is cared for in his absence as well.

He hopes Shang Qinghua isn’t a fucking idiot and figures out where Shen Qingqiu is.

Luo Binghe won’t kill Cang Qiong members, he’s promised as much. That leaves a broad range of options, many of them significantly worse than others, but the wording of his promise implies those are off the table, or at least far down on the list.

Luo Binghe doesn’t seem to want to listen to Shen Qingqiu, but he’s doing so anyway. Maybe that’s not such a surprise—if Shen Qingqiu has truly been dropped into a wife role somehow, then Luo Binghe’s tendency would be to listen. In the novel, he always at least tried to make his wives happy, if their requests weren’t too outlandish. Normally those concessions occurred more toward the beginning of their relationship (i.e. the only times that the wives actually showed up before they were absorbed into the harem, never to be seen again), but Shen Qingqiu is solidly within that zone right now.

It’s enough.

It may be more than enough, given Luo Binghe’s intensive possessiveness and apparent devotion.

If nothing else…

Two years is nothing to the long life of an immortal. It’s so much less than he owes Luo Binghe.

It’s not even really a punishment.

Not for Shen Qingqiu, nor for the rest of the world.

Ah, this lotus of his…Shen Qingqiu only has himself to blame for how Luo Binghe turned out.

He’ll keep working on it. He’ll continue—gently—to persuade Luo Binghe to see his viewpoint. Perhaps, after Luo Binghe has enough time with Shen Qingqiu to himself, he will come around to Shen Qingqiu’s perspective. He can get Luo Binghe to relax, to loosen the fearful grip he has, as though he suspects Shen Qingqiu will be torn from his grasp the moment he looks away.

He can bring Luo Binghe home.

In the meantime—Luo Binghe really is promising Shen Qingqiu near everything he could want, isn’t he?

Guilt weighs on him when he thinks of his martial siblings, his disciples, all the duties he is abandoning—but Luo Binghe has always been the focal point of the world. His sword may have been named Zheng Yang, but it’s Luo Binghe himself who Shen Qingqiu orbited. Even before he transmigrated, Luo Binghe is the whole reason Shen Yuan read and kept reading Proud Immortal Demon Way. His fury at Luo Binghe’s end is half of what killed him.

When Luo Binghe was gone—

When he was in the Abyss—

In hindsight, those two years on Qing Jing are the closest he’s felt to being Shen Yuan since he transmigrated into Shen Qingqiu.

Can’t Shizun simply be happy here?

“…I can try, Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu concedes.

The pout slides off Luo Binghe’s face in favor of immense self-satisfaction. “Good,” he says.

The staticky feeling to the air dissipates, their argument wiped away—or at least temporarily put on hold. It makes Shen Qingqiu a bit nervous, that physical sensation of treading on the edges of Luo Binghe’s true anger—and after he’d (accidentally) already used the Guanyin pendant, too!

System, he asks internally, deciding that this is worth bothering the System about, what are Luo Binghe’s Anger Points?

There is a soft whirring noise in his head, a bit like a computer fan running hard as it processes a difficult task.

System? Shen Qingqiu asks again. Not the lagging again, please! There’s not a way for him to turn the System off and then back on again! Ah, System, why can’t you just work properly?!

[Please standby,] the System says finally. The vague sense of a fan whirring doesn’t go away. [Records indicate that Protagonist Anger Points are—] Whirring. Whirring. Whirring. [300.]

Records? Shen Qingqiu thinks in some confusion. So, what, is that the current Anger Point value or just what the last reading said? Wasn’t the Guanyin pendant supposed to wipe all his Anger Points? The System said it was a sliding scale, but he was well within the range, wasn’t he? Did their argument just now really make his point value spike so high again in the aftermath? Or, if it’s an old value, has Luo Binghe’s Anger Point value been dropping the whole time they were together, meaning the Guanyin pendant was totally unnecessary as a life-saving plot device?

System, are you—?

“What is Shizun thinking about now?” Luo Binghe purrs. When Shen Qingqiu’s attention snaps back to him, rather than looking vaguely past his head as he talked to the System, he finds that Luo Binghe is staring at him quite intently. His fingers squeeze tightly around Shen Qingqiu’s; his other hand is busy kneading at Shen Qingqiu’s stomach, like nothing so much as an overlarge cat.

Well, that action at least gives Shen Qingqiu an excuse, because it makes him distinctly aware of how much of a mess Luo Binghe made! How can one man have that much come?! Plus he felt that dick in his hand! He couldn’t even wrap his fingers all the way around it!! Airplane, have you ever heard the term overkill?!

“I was thinking I need a bath,” Shen Qingqiu grumbles. A bath, and then to go to bed. Living with Luo Binghe has been one lazy day after another, but it was already late evening when Luo Binghe entered his rooms. Now, lassitude is coming over him in the aftermath of his—quite intense—orgasm and the quasi-argument they had.

Shen Qingqiu is an old man, he’s ready to go to sleep, okay?

"As Shizun wishes," Luo Binghe says, untangling himself from Shen Qingqiu and gracefully getting up off of the divan. Of course, the way that he does this means Shen Qingqiu's gaze is drawn—accidentally!!—to where Luo Binghe hasn't yet tucked himself back inside his pants. He fucking knew that Luo Binghe was getting hard again even after their mutual orgasms, damn his Protagonist libido, but! This is Shen Qingqiu's first time! Seeing the Heavenly Pillar!!

Shen Qingqiu immediately averts his gaze. He is not encouraging Luo Binghe! Bath! Bed! That's it! 

Luo Binghe chuckles. There is a faint rustle before Luo Binghe says, with deep amusement, "It's safe for Shizun to look now."

No thanks, Shen Qingqiu is going to lay here for a bit longer, actually. His brain needs to reboot. That whirring computer fan might no longer belong solely to the System. 

Of course, that doesn't stop Luo Binghe from simply scooping him up. Shen Qingqiu flails before he manages to anchor himself with his arms around Luo Binghe's neck, much as they'd been while, uh, you know. He doesn't feel in danger of falling, not when Luo Binghe has so demonstrably proven on multiple separate occasions how capable he is of carrying Shen Qingqiu around, but it feels more secure this way. 

"Binghe!" Shen Qingqiu complains. Luo Binghe keeps doing this!

"Shizun seems tired," Luo Binghe says. "Allow this disciple to assist him." 

Yeah, right, Luo Binghe is going to take shameless advantage of this. Shen Qingqiu has given him a cun, so now he's going to take entire li. 

Indeed, Luo Binghe carries Shen Qingqiu all the way into the bathing chamber, setting him down on one of the low benches lining the edge of the bathing chambers, meant for lying towels or disrobing. Not that, going by Luo Binghe’s hungry expression, it looks as though Shen Qingqiu will be allowed to disrobe himself! Shen Qingqiu's robes are currently hanging from the crooks of his elbows, barely counting as being on at all; the sight of Luo Binghe kneeling at his feet has Shen Qingqiu attempting to pull them back over his chest, and damn everything drying there right now!

Stop it with the bedroom eyes, Luo Binghe!

"It rather defeats the purpose of a bath if Shizun refuses to remove his clothes," Luo Binghe says. So saying, he prises the robes out of Shen Qingqiu's fingers before pulling them the rest of the way off, one layer at a time, his touch lingering each time he brushes against the bare skin of Shen Qingqiu’s chest or arms. He folds the robes neatly, leaning to place them on the bench next to Shen Qingqiu, and then he’s right back at Shen Qingqiu’s feet, peering up at him. 

"I can," Shen Qingqiu starts. I can do that myself, he wants to say, despite having let Luo Binghe remove so many layers already. One look from Luo Binghe is enough to silence him. 

"Shizun is such a mess," Luo Binghe says, as if he isn't the one to cause that! "It's this disciple's duty to clean up after his master." 

Clean up after yourself, you mean! Shen Qingqiu thinks, unable to voice that aloud for how absolutely shameless it is. Luo Binghe may be able to say such things with impunity, but Shen Qingqiu certainly can't! 

"Binghe..." Shen Qingqiu says weakly. It's already too late. Luo Binghe is peeling him out of his socks now, rubbing against his ankles and the arch of his feet in an impromptu massage. Then his fingers are trailing up along the outside of his silk pants, a delicate touch even with the layer of fabric between them, until he's reached the top and can begin pulling them down. 

Shen Qingqiu definitely notices when Luo Binghe cops a feel of his ass while working the pants out from underneath him. 

Luo Binghe stalls out before Shen Qingqiu's pants are even halfway off. As soon as Shen Qingqiu's cock is exposed to the open air, in fact. 

"Shizun is so pretty," Luo Binghe says hungrily. 

"Don't say it like that!" Shen Qingqiu hisses, and takes over removing his pants, since Luo Binghe seems incapable of doing so himself. He nearly kicks Luo Binghe several times in the process, but that's what happens when you get distracted, Binghe! Punishment for your actions! 

Luo Binghe at least takes it in good humor, helping Shen Qingqiu the paltry rest of the way. Then Shen Qingqiu, blushing furiously, levers himself to his feet, strides past Luo Binghe, and enters the bathing pool. 

He resolutely ignores the sound of Luo Binghe moving behind him, the rustle of what must be his former disciple disrobing. He keeps ignoring it quite pointedly, up until he can't. The bath is large, but not so large it isn't immediately evident that someone has joined him in it. 

Shen Qingqiu is busy scrubbing at himself. It was a relief getting into the water, because at least that way he could cover himself somewhat. All his supplies are still laid out from when he last used them; the bath beans are his current favorite scent, a blend of honeysuckle, jasmine, and orange blossoms, and hopefully it will be strong enough to overpower the distinct smell of sex clinging to Shen Qingqiu. 

"Shizun didn't tie his hair back up," Luo Binghe says from behind him, piling said hair atop his head without Shen Qingqiu's say so and quickly tying it in place with a ribbon. The ends are a bit damp, an unavoidable problem when Shen Qingqiu's hair falls down to his waist, but it will make bathing easier to have it out of his way, so he can't really complain. 

Much.

"Maybe I was planning to wash it," Shen Qingqiu says mulishly. 

"Hm," Luo Binghe says. "We can do that later, if Shizun really wants." He reaches over Shen Qingqiu's shoulder to grab more of the bath beans, then begins scrubbing at Shen Qingqiu's back. His movements are smooth and sensual. Distracting. Especially as he works his way downward, past the wings of his shoulders, descending along the length of his spine.

Despite himself, Shen Qingqiu feels himself beginning to respond.

"Binghe," Shen Qingqiu says, half-turning. 

"Yes?" Luo Binghe asks innocently. 

"...Take care of yourself first," Shen Qingqiu says. 

"If Shizun is sure," Luo Binghe says, backing off. Shen Qingqiu continues wiping himself down, careful not to press too hard against the spots where Luo Binghe seemed determined to leave his mark, i.e. damn near everywhere. He's hyperaware of the splash of water behind him. 

Which means he's perfectly well aware that Luo Binghe is not cleaning himself. 

The splashing of the water is far too rhythmic. The little pants Luo Binghe lets out, the bitten off noises, make Shen Qingqiu's ears burn. They also, very unfortunately, make his own cock continue to fill out in interest. 

Shen Qingqiu has to take several steady, deep breaths, trying to control himself. 

"Luo Binghe," he says severely, when he's confident he can keep his voice level. 

"Yes, Shizun?" Luo Binghe asks. There is the barest hint of breathiness to his voice. The rhythmic splashing doesn't falter for a moment. Shen Qingqiu shudders. 

"What do you think you're doing?" Shen Qingqiu asks. 

"Taking care of myself," Luo Binghe says wickedly. 

"You!" Shen Qingqiu says, and then he makes a mistake: he falls right into Luo Binghe's trap. He turns, ready to berate Luo Binghe, and is instead arrested by the sight before him. 

Luo Binghe has backed himself up so that he is leaning indolently against the side of the pool, resting on one of the shallow benches lining it. The Heavenly Pillar is at attention, wet and slick from the water and, Shen Qingqiu has no doubt, from Luo Binghe's own ministrations. Luo Binghe is pumping himself hard—or he was, because as soon as Shen Qingqiu turns, Luo Binghe slows, languidly showing off as he works himself from root to tip. He's so large that the bulbous head of his cock bobs out of the water, weeping against what part of his chest remains dry, and neatly answering just why the splashing was so very persistent. 

Shen Qingqiu's mouth goes dry. 

"Does Shizun like what he sees?" Luo Binghe asks. For a horrible moment, Shen Qingqiu is reminded of that time just before the Immortal Alliance Conference, when Luo Binghe asked him a similar question. Can't I look at what I raised? Shen Qingqiu had responded then. Now, as in so many ways, Luo Binghe has twisted the familiar into something decidedly more...adult.

"I," Shen Qingqiu says stupidly, unable to look away from Luo Binghe as he fucks into his fist again. Shen Qingqiu's own dick seems perfectly willing to answer for him. Luo Binghe, for his part, is perfectly positioned to be able to see it respond. By the way he grins, he already has. 

"Shizun seems distracted," Luo Binghe says. "Should this disciple help him clean himself after all?"

Shen Qingqiu isn't sure which is worse: the way that Luo Binghe calls him Shizun when they're like this, or the way that his brains are trying to boil out of his skull. The bath really isn't helping, hot as it is, leaving Shen Qingqiu feeling flushed and sweaty and—

Luo Binghe loops an arm around him and tugs him into his lap, Shen Qingqiu's back to his front. Without noticing, Shen Qingqiu drifted ever closer to Luo Binghe, until he was right there, available for easy capture. Shen Qingqiu lets out a strangled noise as Luo Binghe presses him against his chest. The Heavenly Pillar is caught between them, a burning line against Shen Qingqiu's back. 

"Don't worry," Luo Binghe whispers in his ear. "This disciple did promise he would assist."

Luo Binghe's hands move slowly down the front of Shen Qingqiu's chest. As Shen Qingqiu himself had done, they press lightly against the marks high up on his collarbone and shoulders. They linger briefly on the Guanyin pendant, which Shen Qingqiu forgot to remove before entering the water, before skating lower. His broad palms press against Shen Qingqiu's pecs, tracing the line of the muscle, making Shen Qingqiu hiss out a warning as the rough pads of Luo Binghe's fingers brush against his nipples. 

Luo Binghe wanders further down, pressing against the cage of his ribs as if playing an instrument. They land and rest against his stomach, which quivers beneath Luo Binghe's touch, and Shen Qingqiu can barely resist the urge to buck against Luo Binghe's hold, so close and yet still so far from where Shen Qingqiu needs him. Most of Shen Qingqiu's weight is slumped against Luo Binghe; his head is turned into the crook of Luo Binghe's neck, which Shen Qingqiu pants open-mouthed against. 

"Move," Shen Qingqiu demands, when Luo Binghe's hands stay exactly where they are for far too long. 

"As Shizun commands," Luo Binghe says. Except his hands are going in the wrong direction, damn him, sliding down Shen Qingqiu's sides, over his hips, until they can slide beneath his thighs, forcing his legs apart as he lifts Shen Qingqiu upwards—

Shen Qingqiu has a wild, terrified moment to think that Luo Binghe is going to stick it in right now, before Luo Binghe is settling him back down into his lap, Shen Qingqiu's chrysanthemum as yet unplucked. 

"Shizun, look," Luo Binghe says. 

Shen Qingqiu looks. 

Luo Binghe has shifted them just enough that his cock is no longer pressed against Shen Qingqiu's back. No, instead it's tucked neatly beneath him, poking up from between Shen Qingqiu's thighs, arcing as it strains to meet Shen Qingqiu's cock where it lies against his stomach. It's so large that it even halfway manages it.

"Fuck," Shen Qingqiu gasps. 

"Mm, not tonight, I don't think," Luo Binghe says. "I hope Shizun can stand the disappointment." His hands shift where they're still tucked halfway beneath Shen Qingqiu's thighs, pressing together until his thighs have a vice-grip around Luo Binghe's cock. Then he lifts Shen Qingqiu again, until the head of his cock is just barely winking out from the apex of Shen Qingqiu's thighs. 

Luo Binghe pulls him downward and fucks roughly upward at the same moment, slamming his hips against Shen Qingqiu as if he really were all the way inside him. The slick slide of him against Shen Qingqiu's sensitive inner thighs is glorious by itself, but even more pleasurable is the way Luo Binghe fucks fully upward to rut against Shen Qingqiu's balls and the length of his cock. Then he's lifting Shen Qingqiu again, still holding his thighs together with bruising force, and repeating it all. 

Shen Qingqiu's brain blanks out.

Afterwards, he mostly pulls together a string of impressions:

Luo Binghe's unrelenting hold on him.

The loud splashing of water all around them.

The sweet scent of the bath beads mixing ever further with the scent of sex, overwhelming the flowers entirely until all Shen Qingqiu will be able to think about the next time he uses those bath beads is this exact moment.

Luo Binghe's low voice in his ear, urging him to cup his hand like that, yes, just like that, Shizun, so that Shen Qingqiu isn't stroking himself so much as his hand is functioning as a cocksleeve, allowing Luo Binghe to do the stroking for him; he’s allowing Luo Binghe to control it all, to be a constant rise and fall of pressure beneath and behind and against him, until it’s all too much and he’s tipping over into the night’s second orgasm.

Even later, squirming frantically in place because he's done, he's done, but Luo Binghe keeps going, maddeningly, rubbing against Shen Qingqiu's soft and oversensitive cock, until Shen Qingqiu can't bear it. Too weak to do anything else, he lays his teeth against Luo Binghe's vulnerable throat in mingled threat and abject, overwhelmed desperation. At that, Luo Binghe finally comes with a full-body shudder and a moan that rips through him loudly enough for Shen Qingqiu to feel in his own chest.

Shen Qingqiu's heart rate very slowly calms. Belatedly, he unlatches his teeth from Luo Binghe's throat. 

"Shizun," Luo Binghe sighs, sounding blissed out. "I'm never letting you go." 

Yes, Shen Qingqiu thinks tiredly, beyond sure that he's going to have bruises tomorrow from where Luo Binghe is still gripping his thighs, I can tell. 

"Bed," he mumbles aloud. 

"Yes, Shizun," Luo Binghe says. He quickly cleans Shen Qingqiu—actually cleans him, rather than using it as an excuse for yet more sex—lathering Shen Qingqiu up, washing away the sweat and whatever dirty spots Shen Qingqiu missed earlier, along with what small amount of come splashed up on him this time. 

Lax and loose, half-asleep already, Shen Qingqiu lets Luo Binghe lift him from the bath. He leans against him as Luo Binghe briskly, though certainly not roughly, dries him. 

"Ah," Luo Binghe says, "we forgot sleeping robes."

"Mmph," Shen Qingqiu says. 

Luo Binghe huffs a laugh. He wraps Shen Qingqiu in a clean, dry towel, bundling him up in his arms again as he carries Shen Qingqiu through into his bedroom. Shen Qingqiu really is going to get onto Luo Binghe for constantly picking him up and carting him around. It’s just that he’s too exhausted right now at even the thought of scolding him about it. 

Shen Qingqiu ends up in sleeping robes, with copious assistance from Luo Binghe, then climbs under the covers of his bed, determined to stay there. No more funny business tonight! He means it this time!

The last things he's aware of are the covers at his back lifting, the bed dipping slightly as someone slides in behind him, and an arm wrapping around his waist. 

Then Shen Qingqiu is out like a light. 

Chapter Text

Finally. Finally he had Shizun! Oh, he was as perfect as Luo Binghe could have imagined; if that was how he reacted to Luo Binghe fucking his thighs, he can't wait to find out how sensitive Shizun is when Luo Binghe is fully sheathed inside him. Plus Shizun became so fully pliant when fucked out, allowing Luo Binghe to move him about like a doll, sleepily leaning into him, a kind of intimacy that Luo Binghe...rarely enjoyed with any of his wives. 

Even married to him, few of them had truly trusted him enough to relax like that around him. If they wished for it, if they ever asked for it, Luo Binghe likely have let them lean on him, but he just knows it wouldn't have been the same. Not like it is with Shizun.

Everything is different with Shizun. 

Luo Binghe pulls Shizun closer against him, half-burying the sleeping man beneath his body weight. Shizun lets out a little sigh in his sleep, snuggling closer. Luo Binghe buries his face in Shizun's hair and breathes deeply, taking in their mingled scent, the sweetness of Shizun's favored soap, the lingering but near-buried saltiness of sweat and come. 

This is everything Luo Binghe didn't know he was missing. Everything that was denied him, when the other kind Shizun stayed with the crybaby imposter. Everything that should have, by right, been Luo Binghe's from the very start. 

The only thing that mars it now is the interloper.

Luo Binghe felt its presence there on the divan, fingers laced with Shizun's and attention fixed on him. More than that, he saw the way Shizun looked away from him. It should have seemed only a brief moment of distraction, yet the spark of the interloper's power, faint as it was when it pressed its way past one of Luo Binghe’s subtle traps, spoke to the truth of the matter. 

It was speaking to Shizun. It was pulling Shizun away from Luo Binghe's moment of triumph, the moment he'd finally managed to make it all clear to Shizun, the moment when he'd claimed Shizun. 

It was then that Luo Binghe decided the interloper needed to die. 

Oh, to be certain, he'd decided on that long ago. This simply made it a more pressing matter than before. Luo Binghe will not have it interfering again. He doesn't know what it wanted from Shizun in that moment, but given its track record—no. Luo Binghe will be rid of it. 

Sex in the bath was both strategic and an indulgence. He wanted Shizun again, to be sure, but Shizun remained cautious, no matter what intimacies threaded their way through their interactions. He thinks too much of Cang Qiong, and he has only just become aware of Luo Binghe's feelings toward him. Pleasurable as it would have been to utterly overwhelm Shizun, to take him there and fuck him through the night, Luo Binghe held back. He made his interest obvious in the bath, teasing Shizun, but did nothing more than that. He left bait out for Shizun to take, but ultimately...

He let Shizun come to him.

And oh how Shizun came. 

Strategy came in two ways, once Shizun took Luo Binghe up on what he offered there: 

First, to see if the interloper would appear again. What memories featuring the interloper that Luo Binghe had managed to (mostly) reconstruct had nothing to do with sex, but today, the interloper demonstrably interfered right in front of Luo Binghe. If they had sex again, would the interloper interfere once more, and if so, could Luo Binghe gain any more information from its presence outside of Shizun's memories? 

Second, Luo Binghe had promised not to drug Shizun's tea again. He wanted Shizun deeply asleep for this, though, unlikely to be woken no matter what Luo Binghe did. He was quite relaxed on the divan and Luo Binghe is exceptional at wearing out his partners; it was pleasure to wear Shizun down to the point he was falling asleep sitting up. 

Which leaves Luo Binghe, here and now, ready to dive directly into Shizun's dreams. He'll be rid of the interloper tonight. 

It’s a bit out of order, but Shizun can consider it an early engagement present. 

Luo Binghe doesn't reach for any of Shizun's memories, as he has for the past many weeks of his work. He folds Shizun down into the deepest layer of sleep he can manage, aided by the exhaustion and contentment flooding Shizun's body, and then turns to Shizun's locked away memories. 

He's been focusing this whole time on the memories that he could access, hoping that he would be able to track down the interloper's whereabouts without having to open that door. He didn’t want to tip it off just so he could catch a trace of it. Now that it's come to this, it doesn't really matter whether the interloper becomes aware of him or not:

Luo Binghe is going to rip it wholesale from Shizun's mind. 

He's done all this work, all this careful examination of Shizun's memories, all these deep dives into Shizun's dreaming mind, and he still hasn't found the interloper…so the only place left to look is where he hasn’t yet: the buried memories or the locked memories.

The buried memories are far more likely to be inconsequential, leftover debris from Shizun’s qi deviation. The locked memories, on the other hand…

Luo Binghe feels inexplicably drawn to them. He considered the idea that Shizun might have locked those parts of himself away, protecting them from the interloper, but it doesn’t fit. Luo Binghe is certain his original thoughts and Meng Mo’s suppositions were right: Why lock away that part of Shizun’s mind, unless it was to keep out anyone who could oust the interloper from its parasitic home? 

No more. 

Luo Binghe weaves his usual facsimile of the interloper's power around himself. Then, carefully, delicately, he shapes an extra piece of it. If these extra memories are locked behind a door, then Luo Binghe will fashion himself a key. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, it takes shape. Luo Binghe matches it against what he feels from that real-and-not-real lock, the dream barrier that stands in his way. When he has the barest form of the key shaped, he steps forward, feeding it into the lock that doesn't truly exist as a lock until Luo Binghe imposes his will and dream magics upon it. Dreams are malleable, the minds holding them even more so, and the interloper is inside Shizun's mind. 

That gives it unprecedented power over Shizun, yet also leaves it vulnerable to Luo Binghe's own actions. 

The lock clicks. Luo Binghe opens the newly-made, still wavering door and steps inside. 

He enters...a shrine? 

A shrine dedicated to him.

Now, to be clear, this is not the first shrine that Luo Binghe has come across dedicated to himself. It likely won't be the last, either. With Luo Binghe's long tenure as Emperor of the Combined Realms, there are plenty of those who have supplanted worship of the gods with worship of him. What is the Heavenly Emperor next to the Heavenly Demonic Emperor, after all, especially after he tore all the other gods down from the heavens?

Or so the thinking goes. 

There's a wide variety in the type of worship. Some worship him as Emperor, some as a martial god, and still others as a fertility god. That last is not because Luo Binghe himself has children, but between the tales of his harem and the truly countless number of tumbles he's taken with women across all the Realms, well. The picture is clear to see for those who look. 

The room he finds himself in now isn’t large, as far as shrines go. It’s as much a living space and scholar’s abode as it is a place of worship: a wardrobe and a medium-sized chest of drawers are set against one wall, near the impressively tall window through which pale light seeps, and bookshelves stand tall against several of the remaining walls, stuffed full of books.

There isn’t much room for devotees here. There is an altar, of sorts, though it’s like none Luo Binghe has ever seen. Too high, with a chair settled in front of it, and instead of another statue of Luo Binghe or incense or offerings, the top of the altar features a rectangular pane of flat, black glass, held upright by some sort of stand. A strange board with little boxes carved it in an obvious if inscrutable pattern rests directly before the stand.

Strangely flat and glossy paintings decorate every part of the walls not already blocked by furniture; the paintings nearly overlap in places, though it’s clear each has been precisely placed. There are miniature statues as well, lining both the bookshelves and several freestanding shelves along the walls, plus a few larger statues standing on the floor or, in one case, on a small side table. There is also, he notes, a replica of Xin Mo hanging on the wall. It’s not an accurate replica: it looks as though the creator only heard a second-hand account of its appearance before forging it, and Luo Binghe certainly would never use the replica for its intended purpose, given how dull the edges of the blade are—but the attempt is obvious. 

The paintings and the sculptures feature Luo Binghe throughout all his years. Obviously, as an immortal demon, Luo Binghe's appearance doesn't shift much. Nevertheless, he can clearly mark moments in his life that have been illustrated and hung on these walls. He sees himself as Emperor, himself with various members of his harem sprawled around him, himself fighting through the Abyss, himself wielding Xin Mo, even—ah. Even a small version of himself, dressed in Qing Jing's uniform, sitting in front of the Quiet Pool and cradling his Guanyin pendant in his hand. 

To show all these different moments, this shrine is truly dedicated to Luo Binghe. It’s devoted to all the ways his citizens have chosen to worship him, not picking one facet of him over any other. Though the large bed situated in the room certainly seems to speak to the hopes of the shrine maiden. 

Speaking of the shrine maiden...

Luo Binghe approaches the bed, pulling back the blankets so that he can see who is sleeping in this space. 

Ha. He should have guessed that shrine 'maiden' wouldn't be correct. 

The man slumbering peacefully isn't Shizun. His face is perhaps three or four parts out of ten similar to Shizun’s, but he’s clearly a different person. His hair is cut criminally short. He wears an oversized, short-sleeved shirt, which has rucked up in his sleep to show a surprisingly tantalizing glimpse of his stomach, and very short, clinging undergarments that expose his long legs and do little to disguise the curve of his flaccid cock. 

Is this the interloper? 

Luo Binghe nearly snorts a laugh at the thought. Does the interloper think that he will hesitate if it portrays itself as a harlot? Does it think Luo Binghe can be distracted from his quest by this man? Luo Binghe is often distracted by various beauties during his quests.

That never means he doesn't complete those quests. 

There is, of course, the possibility that this is a trap in some other way or that the interloper hopes to use his distraction as some part of another plan. On the other hand, there’s also the possibility that this isn't the interloper at all: this could be some part of Shizun. If Luo Binghe damages it, he could harm Shizun in the process. 

Luo Binghe hums quietly to himself. He settles down on the edge of the bed, close to one of the dream inhabitant's out-flung arms. He hovers a hand above that fragile neck, so easy to snap, then places it in a loose hold. 

"Ah," Luo Binghe says, feeling that slow pulse and the familiar flavor of Shizun's mind. This is a part of Shizun, no matter how different this simulacrum looks. If he casts his senses beyond this locked dream-and-memory space, he can feel Shizun sleeping beyond it, wrapped in the dream Luo Binghe built for him. Despite that, some other part of him lies here, in front of Luo Binghe. 

Fascinating. 

Luo Binghe isn't sure whether it's the touch or him speaking aloud, but Shizun stirs. His lips smack softly together, then his eyes drift open, and then his breath hitches as he blearily takes in Luo Binghe. 

For his part, Luo Binghe slowly strokes his thumb along the side of Shizun's neck, right where—in the waking world—he left bruises during their tryst this evening. Now that he's near entirely certain this isn't a trap, he can appreciate the alluring picture that Shizun paints, the way so much of him is on display. This body is smaller than Shizun's, softer. Mortal, if Luo Binghe had to wager a guess. 

The differences don’t matter. Shizun is Shizun: he is precious, and beautiful, and all Luo Binghe’s.

"Luo...Binghe...?" Shizun asks, sleep-tousled, confused, and almost disbelieving. 

Luo Binghe smiles down at him. "Hello, Shizun." 

Shizun's brow furrows. "Shizun?" he says, derision growing steadily in his voice and bleeding into his expression, which is delightfully open in this body. "Like that bastard Shen Qingqiu? You've got the wrong guy."

Luo Binghe hums. No, this is definitely Shizun. Luo Binghe wouldn’t be able to mistake him for anyone else, especially not now that he’s spent so much time delving through his mind.

"My apologies," he says anyway, as it seems to be expected of him. His thumb strokes down the side of Shizun's neck again, feeling at that fluttering pulse. "What, then, is the name of this lord’s…new acquaintance?"

Shizun swallows. "Shen Yuan," he says. 

"Shen Yuan," Luo Binghe muses. 

Shen Qingqiu's birth name was Shen Jiu. 

Here, then, is the answer for which he has been searching this whole time. Luo Binghe spent so long wondering what could have made Shizun into such a different person from his old master. He came up with so many theories: a different upbringing, which somehow shook loose kindness from him a long time down the line? The qi deviation, which may have simply erased the worst memories from Shizun's mind, excising all the ugliness from him to leave way for the man Luo Binghe craved? The interloper’s interference, piecing together parts of Shizun’s mind into an entirely new configuration for its own purposes? It couldn't have been possession, he thought, because surely not even Cang Qiong could miss something so blatant.

Except apparently they had. 

Luo Binghe put too much faith in their abilities. They weren't able to spot the interloper that was tangled up in Shizun, controlling his actions; why, then, should they have been able to realize Shizun was not the same man as that detestable Shen Qingqiu? 

This ‘Shen Yuan’ in front of Luo Binghe...this must be what Shizun originally looked like, before his soul found its way into Shen Qingqiu’s body. Or, if he was a wandering spirit like Meng Mo, demonic or otherwise, this is how he conceptualizes himself.

This is what the interloper was hiding from him: a beautiful young man, living in a strange shrine dedicated to Luo Binghe, laid out like an offering before him, scantily clothed and so ready to be debauched. 

How wonderful. 

"Shen Yuan seems familiar with this lord," Luo Binghe says. He’s immediately delighted to find out that Shen Yuan blushes easier and deeper than he does in Shen Qingqiu's body. 

"That," Shen Yuan says, gaze darting around the room, to all the evidence of his worship. “I—well—it isn’t—can you let go of me?" 

Luo Binghe swipes his thumb across Shen Yuan's neck one last time, just to see his blush deepen a hint more, before he withdraws, clasping his hands in his lap and willing down the interested rise of his cock. There will be time enough for that later. Luo Binghe has business to attend to first. 

Shen Yuan sits fully up. He shuffles away from Luo Binghe, so very like that first time Shizun woke from his nap with his head in Luo Binghe's lap. Here and now, Shen Yuan is focused on tucking his knees beneath himself and tugging at his sleep shirt so that he is no longer so exposed. In doing so, the wide shoulder of the shirt exposes a tantalizing glimpse of Shen Yuan's bare shoulder, milky white and creamy smooth. 

Ah, Luo Binghe wants to eat him up. 

Shen Yuan clears his throat. "How can I—how can, uh, this lowly one help Junshang?" he asks nervously. 

"I'm looking for something," Luo Binghe tells him. "Or perhaps someone." 

Shen Yuan leans forward. "You're on a quest! Is—did Shen Qingqiu do something? Is that why you asked about him? Oh, but I thought he wouldn't be a problem anymore, if Binghe is already back from the Abyss," he frets. 

Luo Binghe blinks slowly. "Very familiar with this lord," he murmurs. If Shen Yuan is Shizun and Shen Yuan is the owner of this shrine—that means Shizun knows what Luo Binghe has done. He knows what Luo Binghe did to Shen Qingqiu. More questions answered, this time unlooked for: why was Shizun so afraid of him, far beyond what Luo Binghe expected? Because he feared Shen Qingqiu's death. "No, it's not anything he's done." 

"Then...?"

"I'm searching for a parasite," Luo Binghe explains. "It has burrowed its way inside my beloved's mind, forcing compliance and...threatening my beloved in unconscionable ways." 

Where Shen Yuan had previously scooted himself away, now he shuffles forward, entranced by this. "Your beloved?" he echoes. "Who—which of your wives is it? Is it Liu Mingyan?" 

It is decidedly not Liu Mingyan, of all Luo Binghe's ex-wives. The most they ever traded were a few chaste kisses, even after they married. Luo Binghe was always a means to Liu Mingyan's ends. They both acknowledged that from the very beginning. 

"I don't think my beloved is anyone Shen Yuan might be familiar with," Luo Binghe says. This part of Shen Yuan's mind seems to be separated from the rest of Shizun's mind well enough that Shen Yuan has no memory of his life as Shen Qingqiu, nor Luo Binghe's feelings toward him. 

No, this part of Shizun is separate. It is and isn’t Shizun—or rather, it’s a past version of Shizun. Without having lived his life as Shen Qingqiu, Shen Yuan isn’t quite the same, yet Luo Binghe still feels himself so drawn to him. 

Shen Yuan nearly pouts. "You don't know that," he says. "I know all sorts of things about you, I—”

He cuts himself off. Fumbles at the nightstand next to his bed so that he can pull his glasses off of them and press them to his face. He rakes his fingers through his hair, trying to neaten it. All together, it’s rather like the way Shizun hides behind his fans. Without that crutch, Shen Yuan seems to take any excuse he has to disguise what he’s thinking.

"I've no doubt of that," Luo Binghe says, warmly amused. "But Shen Yuan, tell me: do you know where you are right now?" 

Shen Yuan looks around the shrine. Down at himself. Up to Luo Binghe. "My room?" he asks, uncertain. 

"Do you know how I got here?" Luo Binghe asks. 

"Xin Mo...?" 

Technically true, because Luo Binghe did have to steal Shizun away from another world in order to bring him to Luo Binghe's own. That's not the correct answer, though. 

"I told you," Luo Binghe says, "I was following the trail of the parasite inside my beloved's mind, traversing the Dream Realm as I did. That trail lead me...here." 

Shen Yuan squawks, shoving himself away from Luo Binghe and off the bed entirely. He hits the ground with a thump, scrambling up to his feet and backing up against the wall behind him. "It's not me!" he protests. "I didn't do anything—I wouldn’t—”

"I know," Luo Binghe soothes him. He stands slowly, circling around the bed and pacing across the room toward Shen Yuan, who attempts to press himself even flatter against the wall despite Luo Binghe's reassurance. If he had Xiu Ya with him, he’s sure Shen Yuan would be raising it in threat right now, just as Shizun did that very first day. “Shen Yuan, you've nothing to fear from me. In fact, you may well be the answer to what I've been seeking."

"Uh," Shen Yuan says. He has calmed only slightly. “I—I’m not sure—I’m just. A guy. A mortal, I mean. I'm not a cultivator. I don't know if I'll be able to help you." 

"Will Shen Yuan at least try?" Luo Binghe beseeches him. He's right up in Shen Yuan's space now, looming over him. Shen Yuan is shorter than Shen Qingqiu is, nearly an entire head below Luo Binghe's height. It’s trivially easy for him to box the other man in. 

"I mean," Shen Yuan gulps, staring up at him. His fear drained a significant portion of the blush from his face, but now his cheeks tint faintly pink again. He’s so responsive. "If Luo Binghe...really wants me to..."

"I do," Luo Binghe says. 

"Okay," Shen Yuan breathes out. 

"Good," Luo Binghe says, satisfied. He backs away, giving Shen Yuan enough room to sidle out from his defensive spot against the wall. He doesn't move toward the bed. Instead, he heads toward the tall not-altar in one corner of the room, pulling out the chair—on wheels, Luo Binghe realizes, how innovative—and flopping down into it. 

"Okay," Shen Yuan says again, this time sounding like it's voiced more to himself rather than anything he’s saying to Luo Binghe. If it was an attempt to pep himself up, it seems to work: the intensity of his focus is sharp and bright as he asks, "Can you give me more details?" 

Luo Binghe contemplates that. "My love comes from another world," he begins. "There is something connecting us; we've accidentally interacted through dreams before, and I crossed into other worlds to—”

"Cross-dimensional travel?" Shen Yuan blurts out. He's been vibrating in place nearly since Luo Binghe began, but now he seems unable to stop himself from interrupting. "Xin Mo can do that?! I thought it was only in between spaces within your world, but you're saying it can travel between entire dimensions? That's OP as fuck, Airplane, what were you on?" 

"Yes," Luo Binghe says, preening at this. He may not understand the exact meaning of the words Shen Yuan is using, but the tone of delighted wonder comes through easily. "Shen Yuan seems to know much of this lord’s history, but this lord has traveled even further than those annals have yet reported." 

"Wow," Shen Yuan says. "So you're—so you—wait. Are you in my world right now? You have to be, if you're in my dreams, how did I not put that together earlier? If you are—I thought you said your wife came to your world? Did she go back? Was she sent back? Is this some kind of reverse transmigration?“

Luo Binghe bites his tongue against the urge to kiss Shen Yuan at the way he so sweetly called himself, even obliquely, Luo Binghe's wife. 

"No," he says. Shen Yuan doesn’t know he’s Shizun—which means he’s making a false assumption here. One that Luo Binghe wouldn’t be able to hide from him for long even if he wanted to. "Shen Yuan..." 

Shen Yuan looks around himself. At Luo Binghe, his somber expression, and the words as yet unspoken. Shizun, no matter what body he inhabits, has always been so terribly clever.

Shen Yuan says, "I don't remember how I got here." He laughs a bit. “I mean, it’s a dream, that makes sense, who remembers how their dream starts?” He pauses, taking a shaky breath. “But I don't...remember falling asleep. I have no idea what the last thing I did in the real world was, or what my day was like, or….any of it. If I'm awake inside this dream—I should know that, right?" 

Luo Binghe nods. 

Shen Yuan stares down at his hands. “…Did I die?" he asks, very quietly. 

"I don't know," Luo Binghe says truthfully. The original kind Shizun had—multiple times, even!—but none of that has happened to his Shizun yet. Luo Binghe stole him away before it could. Yet if Shen Yuan is a displaced spirit, one who was dropped into Shen Qingqiu's body, then there is a high probability the answer is yes. 

Even if he wasn’t dead originally, if his soul was displaced and drawn (or taken) into another world, his first body surely died not long afterward from its soul’s absence.

Shen Yuan nods. He obviously understands the devastating nuances of Luo Binghe’s answer. He forces a smile onto his face and says, "That's all right! At least I got to meet Luo Binghe!"

Luo Binghe's heart thumps heavily in his chest. 

"Now," Shen Yuan says briskly, moving on. "I interrupted Binghe. You were connected with your wife even across dimensions, which, wow, that's fascinating, but—what happened? I assume she transmigrated, and then—?”

"What does that mean, transmigrated?" Luo Binghe interrupts, though he's pretty sure he knows. Shen Yuan used the word earlier, too. If a ‘reverse transmigration’ would have landed Shizun back in Shen Yuan’s world, then logically, ‘transmigration’ would mean… 

"What you said she did," Shen Yuan says. "Crossing from one world to another. In the stories I've read, usually it happens through death. Characters are either reborn into the story as children, or they take over the lives of previously established characters midway through the story. If the latter, it's usually because that character has died before they were supposed to, so the transmigrator has to fill in the gaps that were left behind." 

Now that certainly sounds familiar. 

"And these people choose who they 'transmigrate' into?" Luo Binghe asks. 

Shen Yuan's nose scrunches. "Depends on the story," he says. "Usually not, though."

"How do they end up in other worlds, then?" 

"Like I said, it depends," Shen Yuan says. "A lot of times there's a System. A, uh, kind of a god, I guess?" He looks nonplussed. "Or maybe a spirit. They guide the transmigrator, tell them what they need to know, give them goals to complete with rewards for succeeding and punishments for failing, all that." A beat. "Ohhh. Are you trying to find your wife's System?"

"Yes," Luo Binghe says, baring his teeth in what cannot be called a smile. "I do believe I am." 

The interloper called itself that. It called itself ‘System’ when it punished Shizun, a new and frightened soul dropped into an unfamiliar body. It continued punishing Shizun this whole time, while he made the best of a situation he never asked to be put in. Luo Binghe held off addressing the System by its true name, lest he earn its attention before he was ready to destroy it, but they’re beyond that point now.

The System will die tonight. Shen Yuan will tell him everything he needs to know about it, and then Luo Binghe will finally kill it.

"I don't know why you were led to me," Shen Yuan says, frowning. "Unless...well, I was ‘asleep’ when you found me, right? I wonder if there's some kind of buffer area inside the System, where it keeps souls before they're transmigrated." He starts looking a bit eager. "That would be great! Given that you're here, I would probably be transmigrated into Proud Immortal Demon Way…hm, even if the System is destroyed, I wonder if it would still be possible to make the leap to that world…maybe as a spirit? And then there are plants I could use to build myself a body, right…? The Sun and Moon Dew Mushroom wouldn’t work, you need to start growing that before dying and it requires blood from the original body. Maybe I could use a Spirit-Catching Imperial Bloodthistle instead, or…“

He trails off into little quasi-fretful, mostly intrigued mutterings, displaying the breadth of knowledge about Luo Binghe’s world he holds. No wonder he was so easily able to take over as Qing Jing Peak Lord. Were Shen Yuan not already safely ensconced in Shizun’s body, Luo Binghe would be taking notes on how best to create one for his beloved. Several of these ideas are quite plausible.

If Luo Binghe understands correctly, then he has passed into legend in Shen Yuan's world. Not entirely unexpected. Even in his world, there's often time dilation between hidden realms and the main realms. One can stay in a hidden realm for years and exit it to find that mere shichen have passed outside. Conversely, one might stay inside for a day, only to emerge and find that a century has passed them by. Luo Binghe moved back and forth in time—not even always on his own personal timeline!—in his travels between worlds that were already similar to his own.

Shen Yuan’s world is strange, Luo Binghe can tell that from only this shrine. The clothes Shen Yuan wears, the glossy paintings, the unfamiliar items scattered about the shrine—it’s vastly dissimilar to what Luo Binghe knows. It’s not surprising that a world apparently so far-flung from his own might have a large time gap, allowing Luo Binghe’s deeds to fade away, though obviously records of them remain. 

It neatly explains how Shen Yuan-as-Shizun, taken from a point when the imposter child had not yet returned from the Abyss, knows—or thinks he knows—what the future holds. Luo Binghe grows ever more confident that Shen Yuan knows his life, the twists and turns of Luo Binghe’s past and ‘future’ and no other version’s: Shen Yuan is the deciding factor that made changes, so why would he know about the imposter child? Why wouldn't he assume Luo Binghe was looking for one of his wives, when he has no idea how precious he is to Luo Binghe? 

"Whatever the case," Luo Binghe says, drawing Shen Yuan back on target. He won't lie—this is still Shizun, so he must take pains to avoid directly lying to him—but he doesn't want Shen Yuan to get too distracted by the realization that Luo Binghe is and always has been talking about him. "This lord hopes that Shen Yuan might be able to provide more information about this 'System' of which he speaks." 

Despite Luo Binghe's expectations, Shen Yuan shakes his head. "I'm not sure how much more I can tell you," he says regretfully. "It's almost always different. Unless I could see it myself..."

"Didn't Shen Yuan say we were inside it right now?" Luo Binghe asks. He's not sure if that's true or not, given he entered through Shizun's mind. He can feel memories beneath the floorboards of this dream room, a vast ocean of them, enough to fill the life of the man currently sitting in front of him. 

"That's true..." Shen Yuan says. He spins a slow circle in his chair until he's all the way back around and facing Luo Binghe once more. "Did you use Xin Mo to help create a portal into this place or was it purely your dream arts?"

An astute question.

"Dream arts," Luo Binghe says. "A portion of my beloved's mind was blocked off from me, and even the memories I could access had been...tampered with. I replicated the energy signature so that I could enter this place."

"So cool," Shen Yuan says admiringly. 

Luo Binghe preens again. Shen Yuan is so open with his admiration of Luo Binghe. It's addicting. 

"Well," Shen Yuan says, "I don't know what the best course of action to take is, but if anyone is capable of destroying a System, it would have to be you." He smiles. This time, there’s nothing strained about it, only pure faith in Luo Binghe’s abilities. "All we have to do is find where it's anchored in your beloved's mind." 

A very good point. However much the System has threaded itself through Shizun's mind and body and life, it has to have some central point where it connects to him. Parasites always do. If Luo Binghe can rip it out, then he can cauterize the wound and keep it from trying to latch on to Shizun again.

The question is: where is the anchor? 

Luo Binghe glances speculatively down at the floorboards. He can feel the memories beneath them; is the anchor buried somewhere inside them?

(Is it, perhaps, anchored to the memory of Shen Yuan's death? That would logically be where the System first met Shen Yuan.

If Shen Yuan is right about how transmigration works, and Luo Binghe has to assume that he is, then his beloved must have died in order to become Shizun. He doesn't care at all about Shen Qingqiu's death via qi deviation—in fact, he feels a spark of malicious amusement at the thought of such an ignoble death, one which paved the way for Luo Binghe’s beloved to enter the world—but the thought of Shen Yuan's death is an ache in his chest.)

Distracted as he is, Luo Binghe doesn't realize what Shen Yuan is doing until it's too late to stop him: he has popped up from his wheeled chair, strode over to the door, and is already tugging it open by the time Luo Binghe manages to grab hold of his wrist to stop him.

"What?" Shen Yuan asks guilelessly, blinking up at him. 

"That's where I came from," Luo Binghe says. "I don't...think..." His voice peters out as he takes in what is revealed beyond the half-opened door. It's not the rest of Shizun's mind. 

"How much of it did you explore?" Shen Yuan asks, peering around Luo Binghe to examine the hallway stretching out before them. "Did you just try the first door you found? We should keep going."

Shen Yuan obviously assumes that Luo Binghe has been here before. Luo Binghe is fairly certain that he wouldn't have been able to access this part of of Shen Yuan’s mind—no, this part of the System, this has to be the System itself—without Shen Yuan leading the way. He might have made it here eventually, but it would have taken plenty of careful digging and sifting until he found the correct path to this place. 

"Lead the way," Luo Binghe says, offering Shen Yuan a courteous half-bow and gesturing outward to that hallway. When Shen Yuan hesitates, Luo Binghe offers wryly, "I think Shen Yuan will have more luck here than I will. He has a better understanding of the System."

He will almost certainly be able to lead Luo Binghe right where he wants to go, if he's reading the situation right. 

"If you're sure," Shen Yuan says. He steps out of the safety of his shrine-room and into the hallway. Luo Binghe is only half a step behind him, leaving the door open a crack behind them. 

Just in case. 

Shen Yuan bites his lip, looking back and forth down the hallway. It looks the same in either direction, stretching on seemingly forever, all parts of it a strange, iridescent blue that glows from within, lighting their way without the need for torches or night pearls. Luo Binghe waits patiently for Shen Yuan to decide. There's no point in rushing him. 

Eventually, Shen Yuan turns to the right. He begins walking down the endless hallway. 

It's strange. Now that they’re outside of the shrine-room, Luo Binghe is sure this isn’t any part of Shizun’s mind, no matter how it’s connected to him. Shen Yuan’s room functioned as a bridge, a jumping off point to reach further into whatever the System is. These corridors are only some creeping extremity of the System, though, not its beating heart.

Luo Binghe can't identify the material that the walls or the floor are made of: it looks to be somewhere between glass and stone. Either of those he would expect to echo with their footsteps, but instead the sound of their passage is deadened as if they walk across the plushest of carpets. The walls are flat and continuous. There are no spots to show where the material has been joined together nor any chips or flaws in the featureless material. As much as Luo Binghe can sense temperature in a dream, he can tell that it's startlingly cool and dry here. 

There is, however, a faint tinge of ozone that grows in the dead air as they continue on their way. 

Luo Binghe doesn't know how long it's been by the time they finally arrive at a branch in the corridor. The hallway carries on in front of them, but there's also a path leading away to the right. Shen Yuan stops in front of it. 

"What do you think?" Luo Binghe asks, hushed. The hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He hadn't realized it until he spoke, but it’s not just their footfalls: there are no echoes at all in this place. Luo Binghe's voice falls flat, hanging in the air like a dead thing. 

"I don't know," Shen Yuan says. His face is wan. He shivers. 

Luo Binghe abruptly realizes that he's been remiss in his duties. Shen Yuan is a mouthwatering sight with the amount of skin he’s currently showing off, but he's showing a lot of it. His feet and delicate toes are bare against the floor, the long line of his legs utterly devoid of covering, and Luo Binghe can see goosebumps raised along his equally uncovered arms. 

It takes little effort for Luo Binghe to slip out of his outermost robe and wrap it around Shen Yuan, carefully folding and tying it in places to make up at least somewhat for the height disparity between them. Shen Yuan flushes just as deeply as he had when first realizing how underdressed he was in front of Luo Binghe. He does not, notably, reject Luo Binghe's offering, managing only a weak, "I shouldn't..." 

"Shen Yuan is my guide," Luo Binghe says. "This lord must see to his comfort if he expects Shen Yuan to be able to assist. It was this lord's mistake not to ensure Shen Yuan's comfort beforehand." 

It's to Luo Binghe's benefit right now, though, to see his little empress wrapped up like zongzi, simply waiting for Luo Binghe to unwrap and then bite into him. 

"This way," Shen Yuan mutters, turning his face away from Luo Binghe and striding down the right-hand corridor. His short hair does nothing to hide the red tips of his ears. Luo Binghe follows at a leisurely pace, grinning wolfishly, taking great care not to step on the trailing hem of the robe wrapped around Shen Yuan. 

He really will have to make good use of that bed in Shen Yuan's shrine. When else will he get a chance to partake in this particular version of Shizun?

Such idle musings keep Luo Binghe entertained as they continue walking. They find ever more branches in the corridors. Shen Yuan always hesitates at them, considering, before near always taking the right-hand branch. Luo Binghe would almost think he was blindly guessing, except the presence of ozone grows steadily stronger after Shen Yuan makes his choices, wending them through the maze. 

It certainly isn’t pleasant, the ever-growing taste and smell. Shen Yuan is affected by it at this point, too; when Luo Binghe catches glimpses of his face, his nose is scrunched in a near constant wrinkle against it. Luo Binghe has smelled much worse in his years—the Endless Abyss alone saw to that, without considering all of the battlefields he's been on, the monsters he's killed, the truly strange flora that exist in the now-combined realms—yet it isn't particularly enjoyable for him either. 

It's a relief when the ozone is undercut by a new scent. Cold water, unless Luo Binghe very much misses his guess, which is strange in combination with lightning’s leftovers. The cold, at least, makes sense—it’s not strong enough to see one’s breath here, but Luo Binghe is doubly glad he offered his outer robe to Shen Yuan.

Despite the underlying water smell, there’s no scent of green, growing things. There’s no scent of anything living inside the System, save for Luo Binghe and Shen Yuan themselves. Instead, Luo Binghe can only sense an absence—a nothingness—almost like—

The void between worlds—?

The corridor ends. 

Luo Binghe and Shen Yuan step out into a vast space. Overhead arcs a patterned glass ceiling. Parts of it are stained glass mosaics, which create looping patterns or wildly shifting pictures that gambol across the ceiling, some of them enchanted so that the creatures in them literally play and dart about; other parts of the ceiling are clear glass, allowing them to peer through at what could be called the night sky, except for how full it is. There are more stars, more clusters of light and distant reaches, than Luo Binghe has seen on even the clearest nights. Even starker than that are the moons hanging in the star-strewn sky. 

Except they can't be moons. 

They're too colorful for that, bursting with water and life, green and blue and swirls of white, others tinged with red and black and brown, still others with scattered, glowing spots of purple or orange or yellow, some distant, others distressingly close, all of it overwhelming—

"Worlds," Shen Yuan breathes, staring up through the glass with awe. "Those are all other worlds." 

Oh. Oh, of course they are. 

Luo Binghe wonders how many of those worlds he visited on his quest to find Shizun. He wonders if one of them, laid out in front of him, is the world holding the original kind Shizun Luo Binghe met. The world that is forever cut off from him. The world that doesn't matter any more, now that Luo Binghe has a kind Shizun of his very own. 

...He wonders if one of those worlds is the one Shen Yuan originally came from. The world where Luo Binghe has turned to mere legend, the world where it's appropriate to keep one's hair cut as short as Shen Yuan's is (for he cannot imagine that Shen Yuan is a criminal), the world where Shen Yuan is a mortal.

That doesn't matter either. 

Luo Binghe won't be giving Shizun up. He's not going back to any world other than Luo Binghe’s own. He’ll be staying right here where he belongs, at Luo Binghe's side, where he should have been from the very beginning. 

Luo Binghe realizes, with a surge of renewed hatred, that the System chose not to give him Shen Yuan. It chose to gift Shizun to another world: judging by this sprawling expanse, it may have chosen to give Shizun to a great many other worlds, ones Luo Binghe simply hadn’t stumbled upon yet. If that’s true—if it did—then the System gave Shizun to all those different imposters, yet never once did it think to give Luo Binghe what he was owed.

It was never anything that Luo Binghe did or didn’t do. It was never his own flaw. Luo Binghe could never have changed Shen Qingqiu's heart from the cold stone composing it: Shizun is an entirely different person. 

And the System kept him from Luo Binghe. 

He will take so very much pleasure in destroying it. 

Chapter Text

Shen Yuan likes to think that he's keeping it all together quite admirably!

He always promised himself that, should he transmigrate, he wouldn't make any stupid mistakes. He would be calm, collected, quick on the uptake, and—yeah, okay, Shen Yuan isn't quite sure that he's managed much of that at all. His plans for transmigration always centered around the idea that he would be in the story itself, or maybe in some kind of reverse transmigration plot. He never expected to find himself in some sort of weird inter-dimensional dream purgatory that Luo Binghe broke his way into as, apparently, part of a wife plot. 

Shen Yuan is pretty determinedly not thinking about the fact that he's totally dead in this scenario. That's how transmigration stories usually start, so it's fine! It is! It's just that, well, he doesn't remember what happened. 

People usually remember dying, right? 

...Okay, it sounds stupid when he says it like that, but people in transmigration stories usually remember. 

Shen Yuan has nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Hell, he can't even remember what he last did, or, perhaps more alarmingly, what happened in the most recent chapter of Proud Immortal Demon Way! The fact that Luo Binghe is so clearly embroiled deep in this wife plot—at least five chapters into it, but probably more, given how complex the plot seems to be and how Airplane tends to like to drag these things out—means Shen Yuan surely would have read about this if it happened in the novel. 

Then again, transmigration and the existence of alternate worlds kind of throws a wrench into that whole idea. With the introduction of this transmigrated wife, Luo Binghe's story could have gone off the rails well before or well after the portions of the novel Shen Yuan has read. It's a really weird thought, the idea that he both is and isn't in the world of Proud Immortal Demon Way. 

Mostly not, right now. System, inter-dimensional dream purgatory, etc. 

Shen Yuan firmly pushes down the part of his mind that is gibbering with panic about All of That Nonsense in favor of taking in this strange atrium he and Luo Binghe (Luo Binghe!!!) have found themselves in. Or maybe observatory is the right word, given the wide expanse of the multiverse laid out in front of them. 

He has to admit, the visuals are stunning. 

The atrium itself is weirdly beautiful. Luo Binghe derisively called the System a parasite, and Shen Yuan finds himself agreeing, if only because he doesn’t like the prospect that he’s been kept here in some kind of stasis until he can be of use—but wow. White lines of circuitry etch their way up the electric blue walls, and the floor beneath their feet is laid out like some kind of a massive circuit board, though it’s perfectly flat and smooth when they walk across it.

Trying to pick out coherent scenes in the ceiling’s mosaics is an exercise in absolutely gorgeous frustration. He can see that the scenes depicted in the mosaics are striking and artistic as all get out, but his eyes can’t seem to focus on any of them for long enough to comprehend what any of those scenes are. It’s not a problem with his glasses—it seems to be something about the way the mosaics function. That’s fine because Shen Yuan finds himself drawn to the spread of worlds beyond the mosaic-and-glass ceiling.

One of them has to be Proud Immortal Demon Way, right? One of them is his world, and one—that must be where Luo Binghe’s wife came from. Assuming she didn’t come from Shen Yuan’s own world, but the System—and this atrium—is obviously a nexus. There’s countless worlds out there. She theoretically could have come from any of them.

Are they all different stories? Each world that he can see—is that world one of the other web-novels he reads? Is that other world the first danmei meimei made him read? Is that world far to the left one of the classics he read in high school? Is that one a movie, a TV show, a comic?

Or are they all off-shoots of Proud Immortal Demon Way?

Luo Binghe didn’t have a transmigrated wife in the web-novel, unless it happened after what Shen Yuan can remember reading. Since that’s the case, does that mean there’s more than one Proud Immortal Demon Way out there? Do all these worlds have a transmigrator? If there’s a System attached to them, then they have to, right?

Wow.

The Zhongdian comments section would go crazy about this. 

For his part, Shen Yuan can't believe that Luo Binghe let him take the lead on this, but apparently he was right. Shen Yuan shouldn't have doubted him. Of course the Protagonist would be correct! 

All the way here, there was some small thread in the center of Shen Yuan's chest, tugging him along. Lightly, barely perceptibly, but present when he truly concentrated. Shen Yuan had half-expected that the tug might take them toward Luo Binghe's transmigrated wife and wherever she was being kept inside the System, but instead it lead them...here.

Well, Luo Binghe was looking for the anchor point of the System. Where else would that be but at the confluence of all these different worlds?

Except...even now that they're here, Shen Yuan keeps feeling that tug in his chest. 

Reluctantly, he looks away from the endless, overwhelming view above him. He burrows deeper into Luo Binghe's outer robe—it's warm, sue him! Yeah, Luo Binghe usually only gives that to his wives, but he probably was willing to let Shen Yuan borrow it just so he didn't have to see his scrawny chicken legs!—and turns slowly, following the tug. 

There, on the far side of the atrium, is a bridge. 

Luo Binghe follows his line of sight. He takes Shen Yuan by the arm, guiding him toward it. When Shen Yuan peeks up at him, his expression is set in grim lines, his irises flooded crimson with rage and all of a Heavenly Demon's unfathomable power, his zuiyin flaring bright upon his forehead. 

Shen Yuan looks away again, feeling strangely flustered. 

He focuses on the bridge. Now that they're close to it, Shen Yuan understands why the scent of ozone had co-mingled with a more natural scent. The bridge—made of the same blue material as the rest of the atrium, if a bit darker in color, and the threads of circuitry here are red and black—rests on a sturdy platform in the middle of an oblong pond. The water itself is near-black, so dark that Shen Yuan has no idea how deep the pond is.

The bridge itself is a moon bridge, or at least it seems to be. It's hard to say for certain: Shen Yuan was sure of it as he looked at the bridge from a distance, but the closer they get, the more it makes his head hurt. It looks small, just wide enough Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe to walk side by side, yet at the same time, it's a behemoth. It seems to run up against the wall of the atrium right at its apex, only half of the moon reflected in the pond, but if Shen Yuan blinks, then the bridge doesn't end. It stretches onward toward infinity, passing through the atrium's walls, reaching toward the worlds beyond, out into the vastness of the void and the immensity of the multiverse—

"Easy," Luo Binghe says, catching Shen Yuan as he sways. 

“Sorry,” Shen Yuan gasps more than he says, trying to overcome the dizziness. It has him firmly in its grasp, leaving him to cling to Luo Binghe as his knees try to give out underneath him. “I don’t know why…”

“Intra-dimensional travel is hard on some mortals,” Luo Binghe says. “Inter-dimensional constructs like this, when Shen Yuan is so unfamiliar with it, must be even worse.”

Unsaid is that Luo Binghe himself is completely unaffected. He is neither mortal nor unfamiliar with these matters; he has significantly more experience with inter-dimensional travel than Shen Yuan himself does, even considering that Shen Yuan is a soul trapped inside a being with multidimensional access.

Shen Yuan finds that if he keeps his gaze focused on the pond or on the base of the bridge, it’s not so bad. He has to strictly avoid looking at the place where the bridge melds with the wall in the illusion of completing its arc and therefore connects with the outer edges of the multiverse. As long as he does so, he can continue with Luo Binghe.

Of course, then they reach the edge of the pond. Water laps at Shen Yuan’s bare toes. It’s freezing cold; he’s surprised he can’t see ice floating on the flat, motionless surface. The platform holding the bridge is long meters away from them. Even if Shen Yuan were willing to get into such icy water, there’s still no way to tell how deep the pond is. Nor would Shen Yuan trust the bottom to truly be there even if he could see it. Not given the void between worlds just on the other side of the glass above their heads.

Not given the way those same worlds reflect up at him from the pond, while neither he nor Luo Binghe appear on the water’s surface.

There’s absolutely no way that Shen Yuan will be able to jump to the platform, even if he had a running start and weren’t feeling woozy from remaining dizziness. Dizziness that begins inching up on him again the longer he looks into the pond. He’s busy considering his choices, wondering where the best vantage point will be to watch Luo Binghe work, when the man in question clutches him tight against his side and leaps.

Shen Yuan yelps. He barely has time to scrabble at Luo Binghe before they’re landing lightly on the platform, Luo Binghe’s feet touching the ground first before he loosens his hold on Shen Yuan, allowing him to slide down the last few inches to the ground. Luo Binghe is no longer supporting his weight, but that doesn't mean he's entirely let up his hold on Shen Yuan.

It isn't unappreciated. Shen Yuan takes a few breaths to calm his racing heart. The adrenaline clears some of the dizziness, which is great. And hey, he’ll get to watch Luo Binghe from close-up!

Luo Binghe must be watching him, paying close attention to him. As soon as Shen Yuan has regained control of himself and feels steady on his feet, Luo Binghe finally lets him go. He strides forward. He halts a bare step away from the foot of the bridge, examining it intently. First the base, where it connects to the platform, then further along the length of the bridge, his head tipping back and back and back. 

The bridge is like the corridors that led them here. It stretches on and on forever, arcing high above them and out into the distant darkness. If Shen Yuan stares into that darkness, if he stands tall enough to almost see over that great curve, he can begin to make out a shape on the other end. The bright edge of some other world, a world that is calling to him—

"Stop," Luo Binghe says. 

Shen Yuan freezes in place. Unaware, he brushed past Luo Binghe. He raised one foot and stepped halfway onto the bridge. Now that Luo Binghe has called his attention to it—now that Luo Binghe has brought him back to himself, away from that siren’s call—he doesn't dare move for fear of making the situation any worse. 

This bridge has to be the anchor point. This has to be where the System connects to Luo Binghe's wife. It's for the best that Shen Yuan is here rather than the wife: he's expendable on this quest, whereas she isn't. 

“Sorry,” Shen Yuan says. “I…”

I couldn’t help myself, he wants to say. It was calling me.

It still is.

“Don’t move,” Luo Binghe says. He crouches in place, pressing a hand against the platform—though he does not, notably, touch any part of the bridge itself. His eyes flutter closed.

Shen Yuan barely dares to breath. He’s taken Luo Binghe where he wants to go. His purpose is served.

…Luo Binghe doesn’t have a very good track record with men.

Shen Yuan is nothing to Luo Binghe. He’s some stranger, one that Luo Binghe’s first association with, for some reason, was Shen Qingqiu. You know, the guy that Luo Binghe justifiably turned into a human stick?

What guarantee does Shen Yuan have that Luo Binghe won’t do the same to him? Oh, he doubts Luo Binghe would make it that drawn out, not when Shen Yuan has done his best to help him. Luo Binghe always pays back his debts several times over—both good and ill. None of that guarantees Shen Yuan is going to make it out of this little adventure alive.

If he just destroyed Luo Binghe’s chance to save his wife—if he got Luo Binghe this far and ruined the whole questline—if this error combines with whatever reason Luo Binghe thought he was connected to Shen Qingqiu—

“Shen Yuan,” Luo Binghe murmurs, eyes still closed. “Calm. Everything is all right.”

“Mm-hm,” Shen Yuan hums nervously. His toes flex against the surface of the bridge. It tingles, in a way that the corridor floors and even the bridge’s platform did not.

“Don’t flinch,” Luo Binghe says, which is just enough warning for Shen Yuan to do as ordered. Luo Binghe remains in his crouch, his right hand pressed against the platform, while his spare hand wraps around Shen Yuan’s outstretched ankle, careful not to touch the surface of the bridge itself.

They stay like that for some time. You can’t feel someone’s pulse through their leg, right? It’s too far from the heart, surely. Which is good, because it means Luo Binghe can’t feel how Shen Yuan’s heartbeat refuses to calm, no matter what Luo Binghe told him to do. He’s unaccountably nervous, having Luo Binghe touch him like this, his hand burning hot compared to the cold of the atrium. He’s pretty sure Luo Binghe is doing something, because the bridge tingles underneath his foot but there’s also a strange pulse of energy moving through him that has to be coming from Luo Binghe.

“Hm,” Luo Binghe says. His eyes slide open. “I wonder…”

He stands up to his full height. Loops his arm with Shen Yuan's, and steps onto the bridge. 

Shen Yuan stands stock-still, arm-in-arm with Luo Binghe, waiting for something to happen. 

And waiting. 

And...waiting?

"Interesting," Luo Binghe says, a bit lazily. His smile should be unsettling. Instead, it makes Shen Yuan feel...

Luo Binghe is really cool, okay?!

“Come along, Shen Yuan,” Luo Binghe says. He doesn’t wait for Shen Yuan before he starts up the slope of the bridge.

Shen Yuan is a perfectly respectable height, but between Luo Binghe's cultivation and general stamina compared to Shen Yuan's, uh, lack of that, it feels as though Luo Binghe is taking two steps for every one of Shen Yuan's. He's really having to push himself to keep up with him. It's not at all helped by how steep the incline of the bridge is or how much longer it is than it looked. Like hell he's going to make the Protagonist slow down, though! Shen Yuan can keep up if Luo Binghe needs him to.

All of that combined means they're about halfway up the bridge before Shen Yuan starts to get the sense something is wrong. 

It's colder. Much, much colder. And Shen Yuan is having a hard time breathing. 

For a bit he thinks that it's only because he's winded. He always takes elevators when he has the option; stairs and him don't really get along. It's totally normal that he would be winded going up this kind of incline. 

Except he's pulling in less and less air. 

He really can't breathe—

"Binghe," he forces out, with what little breath he has. 

Luo Binghe, who was previously walking purposefully and seemingly with great concentration—far greater concentration than should be required simply walking up a moon bridge—comes to an immediate halt. Shen Yuan is grateful for that, really he is. If they pause for a moment, he's sure he'll be able to catch his breath. Any second now. 

"Shen Yuan?" Luo Binghe asks, alarmed. 

"Fine," Shen Yuan says. Wheezes, really. He has a white-knuckled grip on Luo Binghe. "Just—need a. Moment."

Luo Binghe curses, low and heartfelt. "The bridge," he says. "It made you dizzy to even look at it, of course traversing dimensions like this would—”

He cuts himself off in obvious frustration. He glares at the peak of the bridge, which remains a good distance above them in the strange, stretched way that this bridge seems to function. 

"Sorry," Shen Yuan offers uselessly. 

"I'm the one who should be apologizing to you," Luo Binghe says. "I was so eager to see if I could...it doesn't matter." He shakes his head. "It's enough to destroy the System." 

Uh, that sounds like there was something else you were trying to do, Bingge. You sure it's not necessary? 

Shen Yuan doesn't have enough air to even begin voice that question. Even standing still, it's impossible to fill his lungs completely. A bit like being on a mountain, he would guess. Less atmosphere or whatever, and—if you ascend too quickly, don't some people get sick? Is this the metaphysical, inter-dimensional version of that? 

"It doesn't matter," Luo Binghe repeats. He must be able to see the questions that Shen Yuan can't ask. "This is enough." 

"Cool," Shen Yuan says, only belatedly realizing that his teeth are chattering as he manages to get that one word out. 

"I think our energies are canceling each other out," Luo Binghe says, sounding rather apologetic. "I don't know what will happen if you aren't touching the bridge and it seems like I'm here alone." 

Uh...? Is Luo Binghe trying to reassure Shen Yuan that he's not going to toss him off the bridge into the pond and/or the void between worlds...? Which is good, because Shen Yuan doesn't want that happening to him, but it hadn't even crossed his mind before Luo Binghe said something about it, so—

Luo Binghe pulls his arm from Shen Yuan's only so that he can drape it over his shoulders, tucking Shen Yuan quite neatly against the long line of his body. The long, very warm line of his body. Then he starts shuffling them back down the bridge as Shen Yuan attempts to become one with Luo Binghe. Survival situations mean that sometimes you have to cuddle for warmth! It's fine! Totally normal!

They're approaching the bottom of the bridge when something in the air shifts. Luo Binghe goes rigid. 

"Don't look back," he says tightly. 

Shen Yuan couldn't even if he wanted to, tucked firmly against Luo Binghe's side as he is. He's not at all tempted, either, keeping his gaze firmly forward. His breathing, which finally evened out as they got further down the bridge, goes shallow again. 

"What is—” Shen Yuan starts to ask, except his gaze catches in the pond's water. 

Something is moving inside it. 

No. Not inside it. Something is reflected in it. 

Something is crossing the bridge from the other side. 

The angle is wrong to be seeing any of this. Shen Yuan should see a reflection of himself, if anything, but he couldn’t when he looked in the pond earlier, and he can’t now. He shouldn’t be seeing this, not if the basic functionalities of the world inside of the System worked as they were supposed to, but instead he can see it all so clearly.

Shen Yuan manfully does not whimper. Most unfortunately, he can't tear his gaze away from what that thing is. No matter how hard he screams at himself to look away, he's caught in place, like a fly in a web.

The thing crosses the bridge slowly. Little flecks of electric blue fall off it with every move it makes, along with flickering purple-black motes; Shen Yuan shouldn't be able to see those as well as he can, except they eat the light of everything around them, drawing attention because of the sheer absence they create. The thing itself is—hard to describe. It keeps changing as it lurches its way across the bridge, the fractal patterns of its body shifting and rearranging constantly in a nauseating whirl of shuddering movement.

No matter what shape it's in, Shen Yuan knows, down to his bones, that none of them are its true form. If this thing even has a true form. The writhing, ever-shifting tempest is the best way Shen Yuan's mind can conceptualize this thing, and even then, it's not enough. 

One moment it's swimming through the air, long sinuous coils fanning out behind it; the next, it's clawing its way forward, ungainly limbs catching on the bridge's surface; then it's humanoid, too tall and spindly, leaning against the sides of the bridge as it staggers its way up; then it's bowing over again, new limbs sprouting out of it, too many limbs in too many directions; then it's leaning over the edge of the bridge, staring down at the ‘water’ beneath it, and through the reflection it's looking at Shen Yuan. 

[What does Host think he's doing?]

Shen Yuan screams. His legs buckle. His head is going to burst. 

It wasn’t a voice that spoke to him. It was pure sensation, the meaning wrapped together and shoved through his mind as if it were a knife, burying itself deep in places that were never meant to be touched. There was no emotion attached to it, no malice in the action, but in the same way Shen Yuan can't comprehend its shape, this thing doesn't speak in a way that’s meant for humans to understand. 

"Shen Yuan!" Luo Binghe shouts, clutching at him. Shen Yuan hears him as though from underwater. The monster—the System, it has to be the System—cut straight through him, uncaring for the mess that it made. 

Shen Yuan has never been more certain that he wasn't meant to be here, wherever 'here' is. He was asleep for a reason. He's not built to handle this kind of quest. Luo Binghe made a mistake choosing him after all. 

He’s still unable to look away from the monster in the water. Not until Luo Binghe forces him to, hiding Shen Yuan’s face in his chest as he bodily sweeps Shen Yuan off his feet to carry him in bounding leaps down the last of the distance from the bridge to the platform.

Shen Yuan knows that the System is still out there. It’s too far away for Shen Yuan to hear it moving across the bridge, but he knows anyway. He’s not sure he could hear it even if it was close enough: a horrid screech is ringing in his ears. He isn’t sure if it’s really there—if the System somehow burst his eardrums despite speaking to him inside his mind—or if it’s only a kind of leftover vertigo from the System’s unholy not-voice.

“Shen Yuan,” Luo Binghe says, his voice coming through surprisingly clearly. “A-Yuan. A-Yuan, are you all right?”

Heaving sobs are the only answer Shen Yuan can offer. Fuck trying to look cool in front of the Protagonist, Shen Yuan has never felt so much terror or agony in his entire life.

A moment of weightlessness, as Luo Binghe leaps over the pond to land back in the main portion of the atrium. He deposits Shen Yuan carefully on the floor, leaving him curled on his side.

“It’s going to be all right,” Luo Binghe says, stroking a hand over his head. “A-Yuan, I’ll fix this.”

He stands.

Shen Yuan’s vision is blurry with tears, his glasses smudged and damp. He nevertheless has a front row seat to the Protagonist looking really, truly, fully pissed off.

Xin Mo shrieks through the air as Luo Binghe swings it. The explosion of power is quite literally blinding, a burst of white-and-red-and-black energy twined together and glowing so brightly it seems to consume the entire atrium. Shen Yuan is left blinking spots as well as tears from his vision.

Luo Binghe hisses. There are cracks in the bridge, but it remains standing. Luo Binghe swings Xin Mo again. Again. Again.

Shen Yuan’s eyes are drawn back to the water. The System continues crossing from the other side of the bridge. It hasn’t met the wall dividing the atrium from the rest of the worlds out there; it’s still trapped on the other side, in layers of reflections and other worlds.

It’s still on the other side, but it’s getting closer.

Its attention remains fixed on him.

[Host.]

Shen Yuan lets out another guttural cry, clutching at his head, covering his ears as if that will help. “Stop! Stop, please!”

[Host must stop Protagonist: Original Luo Binghe, otherwise this System will have no choice but to engage Punishment Protocol.]

“What punishment could be worse than this?” Shen Yuan screams at it. “What did I do to you?! Why are you doing this to me?”

All he did was wake up inside the System. It’s not his fault Luo Binghe got to him before the System could do whatever it intended with Shen Yuan! Luo Binghe was already looking for someone else.

Like fuck Shen Yuan is going to stand in the way of the Protagonist.

Maybe the System should have thought of that before making Luo Binghe angry.

[HOST!]

Shen Yuan screams again, clawing at himself. Blood and bile catch in the back of his throat. His legs jerk spasmodically against the floor. He wants to deafen himself. He wants to smash his head open. He wants to pluck his brain right out of his skull. Anything to stop the pain of the System ’talking’ to him.

[HOST, STOP HIM!]

[STOP HIM NOW OR—!]

There is a great, shuddering thud, followed by the splashing of water. Luo Binghe clove the bridge apart; he destroyed not only its base, but carved up the rest of the bridge as well, all the way up to the atrium’s wall. The pieces of it are now falling into the pond, sinking down into whatever depths the not-a-pond holds.

The thudding doesn’t stop.

The water of the pond is too distorted by ripples to make out the System. Exhaustedly, Shen Yuan’s gaze lifts higher. He stares at the spot where the apex of the bridge used to be, right where it connected with the atrium wall.

Behind the wall, the System pounds at the barrier separating it from the atrium, standing on the reflection of a bridge that no longer exists. The System itself is a whirl of spiking fractals, and Shen Yuan can’t shake the feeling that it is wailing, out there beyond the worlds, where no one can hear it. Even as Shen Yuan watches, cracks are forming on the ghost bridge.

The System keeps slamming itself against the atrium wall. On this side, the wall doesn’t so much as shiver.

Shen Yuan would fear the System attempting to come around and break through the glass composing the atrium ceiling, but he’s strangely certain that isn’t possible. The bridge was the only way in or out for the System.

…If the System was using it to get out, then where on earth—or not, as the case may be—was it going?

And is it still capable of getting back there?

As if it heard Shen Yuan’s thoughts—and maybe it did—the System slams itself against the outer wall one last time before turning to flee back down the bridge.

It waited for too long.

The cracks were spreading the whole time the System fought for its reentry, entropy speeding up as the reflected bridge realized what Luo Binghe did to its counterpart. The bridge collapses beneath the System before it manages to make it more than a few paces. The System falls down, down, down into the nothingness between worlds.

The water in the pond slowly stills. Now it reflects nothing other than the atrium’s view of the worlds beyond.

No bridge. No System.

It’s…gone.

Holy shit, it’s really—!

There is another, closer thud and a clatter of steel against the floor. Adrenaline rushes through Shen Yuan. 

Luo Binghe! 

Shen Yuan claws his way up to a sitting position rather than remaining pitifully slumped in place. As expected, Luo Binghe is currently busy copying Shen Yuan's previous ragdolling. He's pretty sure Luo Binghe manages it quite a bit more gracefully than Shen Yuan did. 

In Shen Yuan’s defense, he was being metaphysically attacked by the System, so he thinks he can be forgiven for that. Besides, the Protagonist is always going to be way cooler than Shen Yuan.

Shen Yuan doesn’t even try to get to his feet. Just the thought of it has him hacking up a gob of bloodied bile; he can’t tell if that’s xianxia bullshit infecting this inter-dimensional nexus point via Luo Binghe or if Shen Yuan was screaming so hard that he tore something in his throat. With great effort, he instead drags himself over to Luo Binghe.

He gives Xin Mo a wide berth as he does. He knows too much about that cursed sword from Proud Immortal Demon Way. Even if he didn't, it's giving off incredibly bad vibes at the moment. He doesn't care that right now it's only a dream construct: he's not taking his chances! 

"Binghe," Shen Yuan says, voice rough, when he's made his way to Luo Binghe's side. Luo Binghe's stupidly long lashes flutter at the sound of his voice. Shen Yuan reaches out, sincerely hoping he doesn't regret this, and lightly shakes Luo Binghe's shoulder. "Binghe, please, wake up." 

Luo Binghe groans. His eyes crack open to mere slits. "A-Yuan," he mumbles. 

Oh, right, Luo Binghe actually called him that, didn't he? Shen Yuan had almost thought he was hallucinating that. 

"Yes," Shen Yuan says. The nickname makes him squirm a bit, but he's not going to deny the Protagonist that if it's what he wants. "Your A-Yuan is here, Binghe." 

"Mine," Luo Binghe says, before grabbing Shen Yuan's hand from his shoulder and using it to drag Shen Yuan down to the floor with him. He crushes Shen Yuan against his chest, treating him like nothing so much as a teddy bear or, perhaps more accurately, a body pillow. Not the sexy kind, obviously! Some people use them for like. Back pain. He’s pretty sure. "My A-Yuan. Mine forever and no one else's." 

Uhhh. 

Is Shen Yuan...missing something here? 

If he is, is he really going to bring it up to the man who just destroyed an inter-dimensional eldritch monstrosity right in front of him, at least in part to save Shen Yuan's life? 

The answer to that is obviously hell no.

Shen Yuan settles into his—hopefully temporary—tenure as a living teddy bear.

Chapter Text

It's been some time since Luo Binghe had to expend that amount of qi all at once.  

Destroying the bridge—killing the System—took more out of him than he realized it would. He probably should have realized that. The System is near to a god. Or at least that's what it probably liked to believe. 

If they're going by metrics of power, then Luo Binghe probably qualifies as such, too. Plus he actually has worshippers—foremost among them the man currently nestled safely in his arms. 

Luo Binghe made several mistakes this night. He shouldn't have tried to cross the bridge with Shen Yuan, no matter how curious he was, no matter that it could have given him some hint as to how the crybaby imposter and the original kind Shizun sealed off their world. It was only to soothe the pricking of his pride, that those two managed a ward so strong it barred him completely from entering that world again.

He didn't even notice how the bridge was harming Shen Yuan until it was almost too late. He knows it was their presence on the bridge, rather than their entrance into the atrium itself, that alerted the System to start making its laborious way back across.

He'd thought that their energies, twined together as they walked across the bridge, would be enough to keep any kind of alert from being triggered. Luo Binghe had, after all, sensed energies relating to the two of them composing parts of the bridge, which was an ugly and disturbing revelation. He didn't like the thought that the System thieved power away from him in order to enslave Shizun.

Even worse than that was how the System, alerted to their presence, then hurt Shen Yuan. 

This place wasn’t Shizun’s dreamscape. Luo Binghe passed through Shizun’s mind to get here, but the two of them were not inside Shizun’s mind. They weren’t inside anyone’s mind—perhaps not even the System’s. For all Luo Binghe knows, this is where the System lives.

Lived.

Heh.

Because they weren’t in Shizun’s mind, it left Luo Binghe free to attack the bridge—the anchor point for the System—with impunity. He could rain destruction down upon it and, unlike harming dream constructs, it would have no effect upon Shizun’s mental health.

However. Just because Luo Binghe wasn’t inside Shizun’s dreamscape didn’t mean that Shizun was kept entirely safe—or rather, it didn’t mean Shen Yuan was kept safe. He was an offshoot of Shizun’s mind, an avatar that, so far as Luo Binghe can tell, was meant to be the representation of Shizun’s other life. He wasn’t a whole person; beyond that, he was significantly more a creature of dreams in this place than Luo Binghe.

It left Shen Yuan distinctly vulnerable.

The System could hurt Shen Yuan when it so much as spoke to him in this place. 

Luo Binghe heard the System speaking to Shen Yuan. To him it only felt like a distant voice, one speaking half-familiar words from across a great chasm, the wind whipping away most of its speech before he could make it out. 

What he heard was enough. 

What he heard, far clearer than that voice, was Shen Yuan screaming in agony as the System hurt him, punished him, all while Luo Binghe stood uselessly to the side. 

Luo Binghe shouldn’t have wasted time trying to solve mysteries in this place. That was made clear with the suffering painted across Shen Yuan’s face. Once Shen Yuan was safely away from the bridge, it left Luo Binghe able to unleash the onslaught he should have from the very beginning.

Then he collapsed down to the atrium’s floor, barely conscious, yet fiercely proud.

It was gone.

That damned interloper couldn’t interfere with Shizun ever again.

Shizun—Shen Yuan—who, despite his own exhaustion and pain, dragged himself over to check on Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe was helpless to do anything other than pull Shen Yuan close to him, protectively holding him in his embrace.

He was safe. Shizun was finally safe from that fucking monster.

In his arms, Shen Yuan trembles faintly. It’s not the kind that comes from fear, no. These are the tremors of one in pain, one who has experienced whole-body damage, or—a seizure.

Luo Binghe doesn’t have much energy at all to spare. He has just enough to thread a spark of qi together with his dream magics and probe at Shen Yuan’s body. As expected, there are parts of Shen Yuan that are metaphorically lit up or inflamed in ways they shouldn’t be. The qi Shen Yuan does have—less robust in this form than the well-traveled meridians and strength of a golden core Shizun has, though strangely Shen Yuan does seem to be half a step above mortal, despite Luo Binghe’s earlier thoughts—feels spiky and disordered.

The System’s parting shot, it seems.

Luo Binghe does his best to bolster Shen Yuan’s body. Thankfully, he seems receptive to the work Luo Binghe does. The jagged edges of Shen Yuan’s qi smooth out; the unconscious trembling eases; he isn’t sure if Shen Yuan purposefully does it, but a loop forms between them, allowing Luo Binghe’s gifted qi—plus some of Shen Yuan’s own—to circle through Luo Binghe’s meridians in turn.

They lie there at least a ke, perhaps two, before Luo Binghe at last untangles himself from his stranglehold around Shen Yuan. His beloved is recovered from the System’s vengeance, Luo Binghe’s qi reserves have been helped along by Shen Yuan’s unintentional efforts, and Luo Binghe still has work to do.

He picks up Xin Mo from where he dropped it.

To defeat the System, he pulled energy from Xin Mo, reaching beyond the Dream Realm and through to the real sword. At first, when trying to destroy the bridge, he fed only his demonic and spiritual energy into his simulacrum of the sword. Where that usually sufficed, here it simply wasn’t enough. Xin Mo, though? Xin Mo had its own wellspring of power to combine with his own, power enough to rend space and time and dimensions apart.

Luo Binghe has had a long time to think about what the crybaby imposter and the original kind Shizun did in order to seal him away from their world. When he first stole Shizun away, he'd contemplated doing the same to his own world—except, of course, that he didn't know precisely how those two did it. It's entirely possible that it only worked because their Xin Mo was broken. He's not willing to give up his own Xin Mo, even if it would keep any other potential world-walkers out of his home and away from Shizun. 

Xin Mo is too valuable of a tool to give up that way. 

See here and now, when Xin Mo's assistance was the only way he was able to destroy the bridge before the System could cross it back into this space. 

Luo Binghe calculates the best course of action, staring across the pond at the platform where the remains of the bridge rest. The System is gone, but it's a creature from beyond reality as Luo Binghe knows it. He can't be positive that falling into the void will be enough to kill it, or if it managed to send out some kind of a message to others of its kind. That's a distinct possibility, after all: Shizun exists (or existed) in at least four worlds that he knows of, which means there could be multiple Systems out there which shifted him between those worlds. 

In a sense, it would have been nice to do more investigation before killing the System, but Shizun’s continuing safety was more important. Luo Binghe killed the System once: he’s sure he can do the same again should others come looking.

It’s better if he can prevent that from happening in the first place.

He won't allow the System to ever attempt to settle itself inside Shizun again. If it isn’t dead, it can come crawling back out of the abyss if it likes: unlike Luo Binghe, it will not achieve what it wants by doing so, whether that is revenge or renewed enslavement. He won’t allow a wholly new System to attempt to move into this available anchor point, either.

He will make sure of it. 

Xin Mo’s power is enough to rend space and time and dimensions apart—

Or to pull them together. 

So thinking, he jumps back to the platform. The end of the bridge is so much rubble, its inter-dimensional powers and illusory size diminished until it looks pitifully small. Luo Binghe fights the urge to spit on it: cruel, vexing, dangerous thing!

Instead he crouches in place. This time, he lays a hand directly on the not-stone, rather than feeling out its energies through Shen Yuan.

He frowns.

While walking up the bridge, he was more concerned with balancing his and Shen Yuan’s qi signatures together to mimic the feeling of the bridge. He didn’t have concentration to spare for sensing out the energies of the bridge, not when he was confident he already understood it well enough to mimic it. It looks as though his initial examination was flawed: by using Shen Yuan’s body as a conduit, he missed fine details.

Touching the bridge himself, he’s much more sensitive to the (currently dissipating) energies. It’s difficult to tell, given how far the signatures entwined in the bridge have degraded even in this short span of time since its destruction…

But he would swear his energy in the composition of this bridge is doubled.

The imposter child, he concludes grimly.

The System thieved away energy from Shen Yuan and from both Luo Binghes it could find. Their fates are twined together, which means it almost makes sense, but why is the imposter child’s energy so much stronger in this bridge than his own?! Luo Binghe mistook it as his own signature when reading it through Shen Yuan, but reading it himself, a significant proportion of that energy isn’t his at all. His qi signature is a pale shadow next to the abundance of the imposter child’s presence.

It’s salt in the wound, as if, even from the depths of the void, the System taunts Luo Binghe with how Shizun was never meant for him.

Luo Binghe grinds his teeth. The System is gone; it has no hold on Shizun anymore. It doesn’t get to make decisions when it comes to whom Shizun belongs now. It never had that right.

Luo Binghe stands. He lifts Xin Mo high over his head, black metal glinting, and slams it down into the center of the bridge’s remains.

The blade sinks easily into the not-stone, Xin Mo burbling with glee as it does. Luo Binghe casts his memory back: he recalls the spark of power he has twice felt moving through Shizun’s body in the waking world; he recalls every single one of the times he molded his energies to match the System’s in Shizun’s dreams; he recalls shaping those energies into a key to enter the locked space of Shen Yuan’s shrine; he even recalls the sensation of the System stepping out onto the bridge, a shudder of electric, distorted energies racing across the bridge ahead of the System itself.

He holds all that in his mind. Then he reaches for Xin Mo. He doesn’t open a portal with its power. He doesn’t even try. Instead, he inverts the process.

Normally, he allows his portals to fade on their own. He stops feeding qi to Xin Mo and the portal fades naturally.

Not this time.

This time, he snaps reality closed around them.

They’re in a space between worlds right now, if hanging on an outer edge. He’s looking out onto the void he’s seen so many times before, when trying to travel between worlds. He’s halfway inside a dream.

Here, reality bends to his will.

He holds all those memories of the System’s power in his mind and he commands it, STAY OUT!

There is a burst of blue-white light. The BOOM of thunder directly overhead, which barely overwhelms Xin Mo’s sudden shrieking laughter.

When Luo Binghe comes back to himself, it’s to realize he’s down on his knees, both hands wrapped around Xin Mo’s hilt. The sword itself is flickering with what looks like seed lightning. All around the platform, scrawled across the remains of the bridge, are strange symbols, forming some sort of sprawling array. Even if Luo Binghe can’t read the symbols themselves, he understands their purpose: this place has responded beautifully to Luo Binghe, answering all his wishes, and now neither the System nor any of its ilk will ever be able to enter this place again.

Luo Binghe lets out a heavy sigh.

It’s done.

He’s gratified to look up and see that, across the expanse of the too-deep pond, Shen Yuan is sitting up under his own power now, obviously watching Luo Binghe work. Good. Sharing qi seems to have helped him as much as it did Luo Binghe.

Indeed, as Shen Yuan realizes Luo Binghe is now watching him in return, Shen Yuan climbs his way to his feet. His cute, bare little feet, which shuffle nervously in place while he shifts side to side.

Luo Binghe shouldn’t leave him waiting too much longer. Besides, his arms feel empty without his empress within them.

He yanks Xin Mo out of the not-stone, taking only a moment to assure himself that the array remains in place without the sword, before he leaps across the distance between himself and Shen Yuan. As soon as he does, he realizes he’s made a miscalculation: he’s used too much qi in short order. Sharing qi with Shen Yuan helped, but then he went and immediately expended most of it again to ward the System away.

He lands safely on the other side of the pond rather than crashing into the endless depths of it, but he stumbles obviously. Shen Yuan yelps, rushing forward to catch Luo Binghe as he sways. He props a shoulder under one of Luo Binghe’s arms, then wraps his own arm around Luo Binghe’s waist.

…That feels quite nice, actually. Luo Binghe pretends to slump into Shen Yuan’s hold. His beloved empress, mostly mortal as he is in this place, has no chance of supporting Luo Binghe’s weight were he to actually collapse. Luo Binghe allows him the illusion anyway.

Who is he to deny himself this moment in Shen Yuan’s arms?

“Binghe,” Shen Yuan says, “Binghe, are you alright? Is it Xin Mo? How can I help?”

Luo Binghe stifles a pleased little laugh. Oh, to be certain, Xin Mo is grumbling a bit in the back of his mind, but it always does that for one reason or another; this time, it seems to be because it can tell this adventure of theirs is about to end. Luo Binghe may have used an excessive amount of energy this night, both his own and Xin Mo’s, but fast on the heels of even non-penetrative sex, combined with the still-lingering backlog of power thieved from the void between worlds during Luo Binghe’s travels, Xin Mo is no threat to him.

Besides. Judging by the curious tendrils Xin Mo is sending out as it tastes the flavors of energy in the hallways and atrium of this place, the way Xin Mo’s grumblings are already fading toward a pleased hum, Luo Binghe assumes this meal is an acceptable offering. He’ll have to curtail Xin Mo’s gluttony, lest it attempt to eat too much or otherwise overreach itself, but Luo Binghe is well-practiced at throttling Xin Mo’s urge to take everything.

It would consume entire worlds if he let it. It has tried, in the past, to drain too much from his wives. Luo Binghe sharply rebuked it on those occasions. He’s had decades of trial and error on controlling his monstrous sword. Towards the beginning, though—back then, he had significantly more difficulties.

Enough that they likely made it into more than one of the legends Shen Yuan is familiar with.

No, Luo Binghe is not at all in the dire straits Shen Yuan seems to believe him to be. He’s not above making use of it, though—playing the pig to eat the tiger, as it were.

“I’ll be fine,” Luo Binghe says in the way of one pretending all is well for the benefit of another. He allows a bit of breathiness to enter his voice as he speaks, and leans further into Shen Yuan’s hold, just enough to make it seems he’s resting his weight there without actually doing so.

“We need to get you back somewhere safe,” Shen Yuan frets.

“Mm,” Luo Binghe says. “We should go back to Shen Yuan’s”—shrine—“room.” When Shen Yuan hesitates, Luo Binghe says, “It’s the best starting point. It’s where both of us entered the System’s corridors.”

Shen Yuan’s brows furrow. “Both of—then how did you—I thought you said you were following the System’s trail? While searching for your wife?”

Luo Binghe blinks placidly at him. “The trail I followed through the Dream Realm led straight to you,” he says truthfully. Honestly costs him nothing here; indeed, it’s likely guaranteed to gain him something. “Shen Yuan led me to the System.”

“Oh,” Shen Yuan says, obviously reassessing several things very quickly. Luo Binghe wishes he could crack open that mind and watch all those racing thoughts at work, flicking around like the flashing bodies of koi beneath the surface of a pond.

Ah, well. He’s content with what he’s got.

Luo Binghe starts leading them away from the pond. Shen Yuan allows him, obviously too caught up in his own thoughts to remember that he’s supposedly supporting Luo Binghe. So precious, his Shizun.

His Shen Yuan.

Luo Binghe bets the crybaby imposter has never seen the original kind Shizun like this. He knows the imposter child hasn’t: he never even had a chance to reunite with Shizun after the Abyss. The crybaby imposter, on the other hand…that’s more uncertain.

Hmph. Even if he does ever discover the existence of the System—if it’s a separate entity in that world, if the System he just killed wasn’t some monstrous spider spinning a web between all these different worlds and trapping various iterations of Shizun inside it over and over again—Luo Binghe can content himself with the knowledge that he uncovered and exorcised the System far sooner than that fool did.

The journey back to Shen Yuan’s shrine is nowhere near as long as the journey to the atrium itself. About halfway through, Shen Yuan abruptly remembers he’s supposed to be playing a more active role on this escort mission, so Luo Binghe gracefully cedes control to his little empress without ever once indicating that’s what he’s doing.

Luo Binghe has often heard it said that return journeys seem to take less time than the trip to get there. It’s never much of an issue for Luo Binghe either way, given Xin Mo, but in this instance it’s true. Quite literally: he can feel portions of the sprawling corridors folding up and dissolving behind them.

Or being eaten, more like.

Xin Mo isn’t eating parts of the System that would put Luo Binghe or Shen Yuan in danger, Luo Binghe is making sure of that. He’s also making sure that there remains a path to the atrium and the remnants of the bridge, should they ever need to return there. Other than that, he largely allows Xin Mo to do as it wills.

At any rate, it’s thankfully a shorter return trip. Which is good, because the walk was long enough for Luo Binghe to near fully recover from his most recent draining of qi—and for him to get impatient.

The door is barely closed behind them before Luo Binghe is crowding Shen Yuan up against it so he can kiss him.

Shen Yuan promptly makes a muffled noise of protest. Honestly, Luo Binghe had half-expected that: Shizun is clever, but he’s also, Luo Binghe has found, very good at ignoring what he doesn’t want to see. Luo Binghe wasn’t sure which side of the divide Shen Yuan would fall on here, even with all the thinking he did on the way back to his shrine-room.

“Luo Binghe!” Shen Yuan says, when Luo Binghe draws back. His hands are flat against the door on either side of Shen Yuan’s shoulders. He looms over the shorter man, who is flushed already from even that brief kiss. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

Luo Binghe licks his lips. “What does Shen Yuan think I was doing?”

“You—but you’re not—but your wife!” Shen Yuan bleats. “You came here for your wife!” 

“A-Yuan misunderstands me,” Luo Binghe says, smiling wolfishly. Come closer, little lamb, right into your wolf’s mouth… “A-Yuan is my wife.”

“Wh-what?” Shen Yuan asks, as if he didn’t understand even though Luo Binghe knows he did. He really is too open in this body.

“A-Yuan is my wife,” Luo Binghe repeats easily. It’s not true yet, but it will be soon enough.

“I’m a man!” Shen Yuan protests.

“I noticed,” Luo Binghe says, a hand drifting downward to cup at Shen Yuan’s currently soft member. That, too, will change soon enough.

“You’re not gay—a cutsleeve, I mean!” Shen Yuan continues. His eyes widen as he hurriedly adds, “I’m not either!”

Demonstrably untrue. Several times over. Shen Yuan is rather young, though, which means that even with his extra years as Qing Jing’s Peak Lord, Shizun is younger than Luo Binghe thought. Then again, even if he were truly Shen Qingqiu’s age, he would still be significantly younger than Luo Binghe. Whatever the case, Shizun and this offshoot of his mind are both adults in their own right, so it doesn’t matter. All that matters is how Shen Yuan, poor young man, doesn’t seem to have come into himself the way that Shizun has.

On the other hand, even Shizun took coaxing. To be the keeper of this shrine—ah, Shen Yuan’s resistance is likely a pro forma protest more than anything else. Quite like himself as Shizun, pretending he doesn’t want what’s being offered to him.

Luo Binghe is sure he can change his mind.

“That’s all right,” Luo Binghe says, and leans down to kiss Shen Yuan once more, the barest brush of their lips. “Won’t A-Yuan help me restore my energies anyway?”

Luo Binghe isn’t completely lying: he is actually still a bit weak, even if he’s in no danger from Xin Mo, and dual cultivation could help restore his qi. More crucially here, Shen Yuan believes him to be in danger. He’s already shown himself quite willing to assist Luo Binghe; if he needs an excuse to allow himself to be coaxed into sex, then Luo Binghe will provide him one.

Shen Yuan whines as Luo Binghe dives into a third, searing, filthy kiss.

“Wife,” Luo Binghe breathes into the space between them as they part. “Beloved.”

“…I’m really your wife?” Shen Yuan asks dazedly. “We only just met.”

“A-Yuan thinks that,” Luo Binghe says, “because A-Yuan doesn’t remember our life together out there.” He nods his head at the door behind Shen Yuan. The door that, should Luo Binghe open it, will lead back to the greater part of Shizun’s mind.

“Oh,” Shen Yuan says. Luo Binghe can see the same reassessment and calculation from the atrium and their return journey going on in Shen Yuan’s mind for a second time. “Oh,” Shen Yuan says again, much more emphatically. “So the whole time…you came here to save me?”

“Yes,” Luo Binghe says.

“Oh,” Shen Yuan says a third time. His eyes flick down to Luo Binghe’s lips and catch there. “Well, then…well…” He swallows, face reddening.

“May I kiss my wife, A-Yuan?” Luo Binghe asks prettily.

“Mm-hm,” Shen Yuan says, rather high-pitched.

Victorious, Luo Binghe claims him.

This time, when Shen Yuan gasps against his mouth, it’s not in surprise or affront. No, this time it’s pleasure. Perhaps some of the surprise remains—Shizun took time to grapple with this concept as well—but as with Shizun, Luo Binghe doesn’t intend to give Shen Yuan much brain space to devote to the task.

The heel of Luo Binghe’s palm grinds at Shen Yuan’s cock, coaxing it to life. The other hand he uses to begin peeling Shen Yuan out of Luo Binghe’s outer robe, just as he’d planned earlier.

Shen Yuan assists, such as he’s able. It’s endearingly obvious that he’s never done this before: he nearly gets tangled up instead of actually getting the robe off of him. That’s fine. Luo Binghe had expected it.

The robe falls to the ground at Shen Yuan’s feet, puddling there. Luo Binghe slips his left hand beneath the oversized shirt, sliding it around the curve of Shen Yuan’s back until his hand is splayed across Shen Yuan’s spine. From there, he presses Shen Yuan’s hips forward until their lower bodies connect; his right hand, previously against Shen Yuan’s cock, drops to his waist instead, a second anchor point to connect them.

Shen Yuan is separated from Luo Binghe by only a thin barrier of cloth. In many ways, this outfit of his is more scandalous than any of the negligée Luo Binghe prepared to gift him after their marriage. Shen Yuan obviously took his shrine duties quite seriously. Luo Binghe wonders how many times he pleasured himself to the images of his god surrounding him, pretending all the while that he was doing no such thing.

Did he imagine some situation like this, one where Luo Binghe was lost to Xin Mo’s demands in truth? Did he picture Luo Binghe emerging directly from the legends, stumbling across this shrine, and—weak from the long centuries without wives or worshipers—feeding off Shen Yuan’s devotion? Or did he imagine a mighty god descending from the heavens, deigning to accept the offering of his body?

Did he ever open himself up and stuff himself full, knowing that it would never compare to what Luo Binghe could do to him?

The thoughts make Luo Binghe hot all over, his cock throbbing heavily.

He ruts forward. He and Shen Yuan brush against each other, a delicious slide even through the layers of Luo Binghe’s robes. Despite his weak protests, Shen Yuan’s body has responded admirably in quite a short amount of time, and he moans against Luo Binghe’s mouth.

Luo Binghe’s right hand clenches at Shen Yuan’s waist. It’s impossible for them to be any closer than they already are, crowded against each other as they are, but Luo Binghe is filled with that same tremulous yearning as when he’d first had Shizun earlier this night on the divan: he wants to crack himself open and keep Shizun safe inside him forever—or perhaps the reverse.

Luo Binghe’s blood is already inside Shizun. He’s trawled through so many of Shizun’s memories. He’s inside Shizun’s mind right now, the deepest recesses of it, as close to Shizun’s soul as can be counted. Soon enough he’ll be bodily inside Shizun, too, whether that’s here in the dream or outside in the real world.

He’ll fill Shizun up completely. He’ll possess him entirely. He’ll be there every heartbeat, every moment of the day and night, he’ll never let Shizun go—

Luo Binghe can make his indelible mark—

He slides both hands down Shen Yuan’s back and waist until they reach the backs of his thighs. Then he’s lifting Shen Yuan, allowing his back to rest against the wall while Luo Binghe supports the remainder of his weight with his arms.

Shen Yuan’s legs loop around Luo Binghe’s waist before he can even consider how he’ll get Shen Yuan to do so, ankles crossing at the small of his back. Luo Binghe lets him drop a fraction of a cun, just enough so that they can rub against each other; Shen Yuan’s legs squeeze around him momentarily at the drop, a crushing pressure which drives Luo Binghe wild.

He ruts against Shen Yuan again, again, moving Shen Yuan’s body about casually, proprietarily, in the ways that will make them both feel good, keeping him pressed up against the wall while he keeps Shen Yuan’s mouth occupied with his own. Shen Yuan’s legs stay squeezed around him; his hands are clenched in the silk of the robes over Luo Binghe’s back.

Luo Binghe plunders Shen Yuan’s mouth, bullying his way inside. He nips at Shen Yuan’s pretty lips here and there: not enough to truly hurt, only enough to allow a spark of discomfort amongst the pleasure, like a bit of salt to enhance the sweetness of a dessert.

He could stay like this forever, slowly taking Shen Yuan apart bit by bit, perhaps taking him against the wall of his shrine, pressed up against one of his many portraits of Luo Binghe while the rest of the portraits and idols watch Shen Yuan’s god answer all his prayers, before taking him to the bed and making use of the truest altar in this shrine to fuck him until he falls apart over and over again—

But nights only last so long.

Despite the distended time that exists inside the Dream Realm, despite the way that Luo Binghe can build entire worlds, despite the way he can go through a whole life’s memories in one night, there is only so long that even he can extend a dream. They’ve spent so much time inside this dream already: first finding the System, then destroying it, then recovering in the aftermath…

Luo Binghe can feel the sands of the hourglass trickling through his fingers.

He doesn’t have time to do all that he wishes with and to Shen Yuan.

So he’ll take what he can, until the very last grain of sand has trickled down and he must leave.

Luo Binghe lifts Shen Yuan away from the wall. He doesn’t break the kiss, but he allows it to soften as he picks his careful way over to the bed. Shen Yuan clings to him like a limpet; it takes until Luo Binghe does break the kiss for him to realize he’s being laid out on his bed.

Shen Yuan breathes heavily, staring up at Luo Binghe from the center of his bed. His glasses are slightly crooked. His shirt has rucked up again, exposing that tantalizing sliver of his stomach. His short undergarments strain to contain his cock, his slender legs askew so that the bulge of his erection is framed like art.

The front of his undergarments is noticeably damp.

“Binghe,” Shen Yuan says, starting to squirm as the amount of time Luo Binghe spends standing before the bed and drinking him in drags on. Luo Binghe can’t help himself. Shen Yuan makes such a delectable picture.

“My beautiful A-Yuan,” he says.

Shen Yuan blushes so prettily. He tugs at the edge of his shirt, trying to pull it down over himself, trying to disguise his need.

“Ah-ah,” Luo Binghe tuts. He crawls onto the bed, gathering Shen Yuan’s wrists in one of his hands and pinning them over Shen Yuan’s head. With the other, he plucks the glasses from Shen Yuan’s face and places them on the nightstand; they’ll only get in the way from here on out. “A-Yuan shouldn’t hide himself away from his lord husband.”

“Binghe!” Shen Yuan says, wriggling in his hold. Even with a mortal’s frail strength, Luo Binghe is well-assured that he isn’t truly trying to escape. His cock remains as eager as ever; another little blurt of pre-come dampened the fabric of his undergarments the moment after Luo Binghe grabbed him.

“A-Yuan is still hiding himself…he’s wearing too many clothes,” Luo Binghe says, faux-thoughtfully. With a flex of qi, he allows the fingernails of his free hand to extend out into demonic claws. Shen Yuan swallows hard, eyes fixed on them. The tip of his pink tongue peeks out as he wets his lips.

Oh, Luo Binghe realizes. He likes that, too.

Many of the portraits in this room feature Luo Binghe in his human form; even more of them feature Luo Binghe without any of his disguises, settled into the balance of himself at perfect equilibrium, right between human and demon where traits from both sides bleed through.

And some few of the portraits feature Luo Binghe at his most monstrous. Moments when he’s been lost inside Xin Mo, or when he was trapped deep inside the Abyss and nearly lost himself to madness and despair, or when he was glutting himself on a battlefield: all wild demonic qi and no inhibitions.

Several of those in particular feature prominently around Shen Yuan's bed. 

How enthralling. How fantastic, that this weak, mortal Shizun should love him so dearly for the same traits that had Luo Binghe's erstwhile teacher throw him down into the Abyss. 

Luo Binghe hooks two of his claws in the thin fabric of Shen Yuan’s shirt collar. Hard and tough as his claws are, they catch easily against the threads. He drags downwards, splitting the fabric as he goes. He takes great care not to dig into Shen Yuan's skin, tempting as the prospect is. That, perhaps, is an idea to save for later, once they know each other better. Once it's no longer his A-Yuan's first time. 

The expanse of Shen Yuan's chest is exposed slowly; it rises and falls quickly as he nearly hyperventilates. Luo Binghe's spine tingles with the pleasure of it, the heady warmth of knowing that he's the one making Shen Yuan so excited. 

He finally stops, claws coming to rest just above Shen Yuan's belly button. The shirt is split all the way down, parting around Shen Yuan's stomach and chest. He looks even lovelier than he already did. The small nubs on his chest wink at Luo Binghe, pink instead of Shizun's brown, and Luo Binghe gives into the temptation that he hadn't when gnawing at Shizun's chest earlier tonight: he leans down and takes one of those nubs into his mouth.

Shen Yuan bucks against him. "Binghe!" he cries, "What are you doing?!" 

Luo Binghe doesn't let go. He suckles at Shen Yuan and then, as he continues to squirm, his arms straining against Luo Binghe's hold, he allows a scrape of teeth against that bud. Shen Yuan lets out another cry. His body flails about, hips bucking up again to semi-accidentally rut against Luo Binghe leaning over him. Luo Binghe sucks harder. He swirls his tongue around the areola. 

"Binghe! Binghe, stop!" 

Luo Binghe hums and, reluctantly, pulls off of Shen Yuan's chest. His tongue traces along his teeth—searching for all traces of Shen Yuan’s taste—as he sits up, meeting Shen Yuan's gaze. 

Shen Yuan looks adorably bullied, his eyes red-rimmed with the beginnings of overwhelmed tears. Luo Binghe offers him a sweet kiss on the mouth as recompense for his troubles. Poor A-Yuan, so new to pleasure, so incapable of realizing what he wants. 

In their limited time together, Luo Binghe will do his best to give Shen Yuan all that he could desire. 

"A-Yuan shouldn't worry too much," Luo Binghe chides him. "This lord knows what he's doing." 

"You," Shen Yuan says unsteadily. "You're…I’m not…”

"Yes?" Luo Binghe asks, cocking his head to the side. "Does A-Yuan want this lord to stop?" 

Shen Yuan swallows. His breath wavers. 

"Well?" Luo Binghe asks, full of cruel amusement. He presses a soft kiss to Shen Yuan's cheek. Loosens his hold on Shen Yuan's wrists. Shifts, so that their pelvises are no longer pressed so tightly against each other. Pulls his face back again to watch the expressions flitting across Shen Yuan's face. "Does A-Yuan want this lord to stop?"

Several frozen moments pass before Shen Yuan gives a tiny shake of his head, the most incremental movement possible. 

It’s more than enough.

Luo Binghe's grasp on Shen Yuan's wrists tightens once more. Hm, he had already been considering bondage in some of his fantasies, having viewed the memory of Shizun wrapped up so thoroughly by that unworthy Skinner Demon, but he really will have to invest in some Immortal Binding Cables when he does this with Shizun. Perhaps not when he cures Shizun of Without-A-Cure, but if Shen Yuan responds so beautifully to being constrained, he imagines Shizun won't be any different. It might even be more fun with Shizun, given how controlled Shizun keeps himself. 

He's not with Shizun right now, though, not quite. He's with Shen Yuan, and A-Yuan deserves Luo Binghe's full attention. 

Luo Binghe falls into another kiss. It's lazier, this one, but deep. Getting Shen Yuan to relax again, getting him feeling comfortable after he had to work so hard to fight through his thin face. Luo Binghe retracts the claws on his free hand, brushing it down Shen Yuan's side, pushing the fabric of his shirt as far to the side and out of the way as he can get it. 

When that's done, he keeps going, drifting steadily downward until he hits the top of Shen Yuan's undergarments. 

With a deep sigh, Luo Binghe releases his hold on Shen Yuan's wrists. A pity to do so, but needs must. Luo Binghe sits up, shifting until he can slide Shen Yuan free of his undergarments, pulling one leg through at a time until Shen Yuan is fully exposed in front of him. Without the constraining undergarments, Shen Yuan's cock is free to press itself against his stomach as it has so dearly wanted to this entire time. 

Shizun's cock is long and elegant, as befitting the beautiful immortal master of Qing Jing. Shen Yuan's cock is no less lovely or perfectly suited to him. It's perhaps a finger’s width shorter than Shizun's; about that much thicker, too. 

And it's all Luo Binghe's. 

"So pretty," Luo Binghe croons. 

"Don't say things like that!" Shen Yuan protests. Free to use his hands, he's apparently decided their best utility is in covering his face. Not unexpected—Shizun's thin face was inherited from this central part of himself. 

"It's only the truth," Luo Binghe says. He uses this brief break to begin divesting himself of his own garments. He's been fully clothed this whole time, and while it's not necessarily a detriment, he does long to feel the slide of bare skin against bare skin. "Should this lord lie to his wife?"

Shen Yuan lets out a garbled nonsense answer to this. Luo Binghe will take that as a no. 

Ah, Shizun is so very cute in all his forms. 

When Luo Binghe is bare, he presses himself against Shen Yuan again. This time it feels so much better, no barriers between them as they rub together. Shen Yuan keeps hiding his face behind his hands; that simply won't stand. It's an easy matter to pin them above his head for a second time, and then Luo Binghe goes right back to rolling his hips to the answering roll of Shen Yuan's own. 

"Mm, just like that, A-Yuan," Luo Binghe says. He rolls again, enjoying the way that he covers so much of Shen Yuan. It isn't solely that his pillar dwarfs Shen Yuan's own, but also that Luo Binghe is blanketed over Shen Yuan's body, pinning him entirely beneath him. 

Their cocks slide against each other. Shen Yuan yanks feebly against Luo Binghe's hold each time, biting his lip in an effort to keep himself quiet. Ha. Luo Binghe won't allow that to stand, either. If Luo Binghe won't allow him to hide his face, why should Shen Yuan be allowed to keep his lovely noises to himself? 

It all belongs to Luo Binghe. 

If pleasure alone isn't enough, he needs to get Shen Yuan to react. 

Luo Binghe slows down to languid thrusts, gentle ones that bring the heat between them down to a slow simmer instead of the near boil that it was previously. Shen Yuan almost immediately makes a small noise of protest in the back of his throat, then looks mortified. Luo Binghe grins. 

"Does it feel good, A-Yuan?" he asks, saccharine and cloying as Magnolia Seed Mimic Bee honey. "This husband only wants the best for his wife. He'll make sure that A-Yuan only has the best time, but it's so hard to tell if A-Yuan is enjoying himself. A-Yuan has to tell this husband what he wants." Shen Yuan glares at him. Luo Binghe's grin grows wider. He slowly ruts against Shen Yuan again, dragging it out. "How's that? What should this husband do next? Should he do that again, taking A-Yuan slowly over his edge? Should he take A-Yuan in hand? Should he fuck A-Yuan’s thighs? Should he—?”

"Stop talking!" Shen Yuan cries. 

Well, if that's what A-Yuan wants, Luo Binghe will do as ordered. 

He lets go of Shen Yuan's wrists. He lifts himself off Shen Yuan, scooting the other man a bit further up the bed while he himself moves down. Then, exactly where he wants to be, he licks a long stripe up the underside of Shen Yuan's cock. 

Shen Yuan shouts. 

Luo Binghe does it again, but Shen Yuan has mastered himself once more. Luo Binghe peers up at him. Shen Yuan has a death grip on the bedsheets. 

"What are you doing?" Shen Yuan demands for the umpteenth time. 

"What A-Yuan told this husband to do," Luo Binghe says and then deliberately, before Shen Yuan can respond, he takes the head of Shen Yuan's cock into his mouth. 

Now, to be clear, Luo Binghe has never before pleasured a man with his mouth. He does, however, have plenty of experience on the receiving side. He knows what he likes from it, so he has very good guesses about how to make it enjoyable for Shen Yuan. Luo Binghe isn't unfamiliar with performing oral for many of his wives; he's spent a not insignificant amount of time with his face buried between his partners' legs, eating them out until they're quivering messes. 

Cock or cunt, it doesn't matter. Luo Binghe won't shy away from reducing Shen Yuan down into a mess. Hopefully a screaming one. 

Luo Binghe swirls his tongue over the head in his mouth, experimentally pressing against the slit as he does to see what that will earn him. The answer is a quiet cry from Shen Yuan as he obviously frantically struggles to control himself. 

Luo Binghe can get a better response than just that. 

Personally, he doesn't mind a bit of teeth against him when it's done right; he has a feeling that Shen Yuan won't care for it at all, inexperienced and mortal as he is, so Luo Binghe carefully makes sure his teeth are tucked before he gently begins suckling at Shen Yuan. 

"Fuck," Shen Yuan groans. 

Ah, there we go, Luo Binghe thinks smugly. 

His cheeks hollow as he sucks harder, then he begins bobbing downward in increments, taking a bit more of Shen Yuan's cock into his mouth at a steady rate, until it's nudging at the back of his throat. This part, Luo Binghe takes slowly, playing it off as though he's intentionally tormenting Shen Yuan—which he is, but more to the point, Luo Binghe couldn't stand to embarrass himself now by messing it up. He doesn't intend for Shen Yuan to have any clue that this is the first time Luo Binghe has done this for him. 

In the end, it's not all that difficult to accomplish. He has to pin Shen Yuan's hips to the bed to get the last of his cock down his throat without Shen Yuan accidentally choking him, but then he's nosing at Shen Yuan's pubic hair, filled with both Shen Yuan's cock and a great sense of accomplishment. 

That sense of accomplishment is made better by the noises Shen Yuan is letting out and the way his hands have abandoned the bedsheets in favor of fisting themselves in Luo Binghe's hair. Shen Yuan seems torn between shoving him off and somehow forcing Luo Binghe even deeper onto his cock. 

Luo Binghe is fine making that choice for him. 

He has the trick of it now. Luo Binghe keeps his throat relaxed as he rises halfway up Shen Yuan's cock, releasing his hold on Shen Yuan's hips as he does, before bobbing downward again. Without holding him in place, Shen Yuan's hips jolt upward to meet him. Simultaneously, it feels as though he's attempting to yank Luo Binghe's hair out with how hard he's pulling at it. 

Luo Binghe resists the pull for a moment, relishing in the delicious sting of it, then allows himself to be moved. He pulls back until only the head of Shen Yuan's cock is in his mouth, and then, when Shen Yuan makes the mistake of loosening his grip, swallows the whole of it again in one sinuous movement. 

"Binghe!" Shen Yuan pants. "Binghe, you're—you shouldn’t—if I’m your wi—fuck!—your wife, then I’m s-supposed to be the one—”

Disregarding whatever nonsense Shen Yuan is spouting, his beloved still sounds rather too coherent for Luo Binghe's taste. He ignores the quasi-guiding hand in his hair and takes what he wants from Shen Yuan, moving up and down his cock, flowing with the movements of Shen Yuan's hips as they grow steadily jerkier, his beloved’s voice dying down from words into largely incoherent noises. Every time Luo Binghe moves up Shen Yuan’s cock, the bitter taste of pre-come grows stronger and stronger in his mouth, until Shen Yuan eventually cries out what Luo Binghe was waiting for. 

"Binghe, I'm going to—!”

Luo Binghe shoves himself all the way back down onto Shen Yuan's cock. Shen Yuan lets out a gasping moan as he comes, seed spurting down Luo Binghe's throat in a flood. Luo Binghe swallows it, throat fluttering and working to draw out Shen Yuan’s orgasm longer. When Shen Yuan is nearly done, Luo Binghe pulls back just enough so that he can catch the last of Shen Yuan's come in his mouth, tasting it fully. 

Delicious. 

Luo Binghe lets Shen Yuan's spent cock drop from his mouth. He licks his lips, searching for any traces that might have escaped him somehow. 

"Thanking A-Yuan for the meal," Luo Binghe says, content—but not yet sated. 

"Don’t—don't say such dirty things!" Shen Yuan says weakly. 

"Sadly, this husband is still hungry," Luo Binghe says, pretending that he didn't hear. "Allow him to indulge in dessert." 

Shen Yuan's cock may be temporarily spent, but Luo Binghe has done research. There's more than one way to pleasure a man with one's mouth. Luo Binghe intends to drag as much pleasure from Shen Yuan as he can before he must leave. So thinking, he uses his position between Shen Yuan’s legs to grab ahold of his ass, spreading those delectable cheeks wide until the furl of his hole is exposed.

"Wait, what are—“

How loose can he get it with just his tongue, he wonders. Can he find that special spot inside, the one he’s read about? Can he make Shen Yuan come from that?

How many times can he make Shen Yuan come like that?

He’s excited to find out.

“Binghe, don’t—Binghe—!” 

Humming to himself, Luo Binghe sets to work. 

Chapter Text

Luo Binghe drapes his outer robe, previously left abandoned next to the shrine's door, over Shen Yuan’s naked form. His little empress has even less stamina than Shizun. Then again, Shen Yuan was only mortal, and Luo Binghe worked him rather hard, wringing the most out of him in the limited time they had together. 

Shen Yuan sleeps peacefully, his calm face belying the mess Luo Binghe made of him. Luo Binghe tucks his robe up under Shen Yuan's chin, making sure he'll stay comfortable during his rest. He kisses the crown of Shen Yuan's head. 

"Rest well, Shizun," he murmurs. 

Then he stands and makes his way to the door. He's already redressed himself, but he lingers here. He doesn't know what will happen once he steps through that door. Will he ever be able to come back to this space? Will he ever see Shen Yuan again, now that the System is gone and there is no reason to demarcate the lines between Shen Yuan and Shizun?

What will Shizun remember of this, if anything? If he does remember, what information will he take from it? What has Luo Binghe exposed to Shen Yuan that Shizun might use to realize Luo Binghe is not the same man as the imposter child? 

What will Shizun do, now that he is free of the System?

Luo Binghe is tempted to lock Shen Yuan away. To recreate this space as a locked room once more, where Luo Binghe has the only key—

Except he can still sense the wealth of memories beneath the floorboards. Shen Yuan is the System and Shizun's mental representation of his memories and opinions and life before he became Shizun. To lock Shen Yuan away might be to fundamentally alter Shizun. Potentially in ways Luo Binghe will not be able to compensate for.

So he stomps down on the impulse. He opens the door, casting one lingering look backwards at the unmoving form atop the bed, and then steps through, back into Shizun's mind. 

Luo Binghe begins to close the door behind him. Stops, considering, and leaves it open the barest crack. He doesn't know if that will help him find his way back to Shen Yuan. He doesn't know if that will leak the memories of their fight against the System (and its aftermath) back to Shizun quicker, if Shizun doesn't outright remember when he wakes. He doesn't know a great many things here, dream master though he is. 

He's taking a chance here.

He only hopes he doesn’t regret it. 

Luo Binghe rouses slowly. It's been some time since he dove that deeply into anyone's mind. His body usually has an impressively consistent internal clock, but it fails him now. In the Underground Palace as they are—in Shizun’s quarters, which Luo Binghe purposefully didn’t furnish with a water clock—there’s no way to gauge what time of day it is. What does that really matter, though? Luo Binghe is emperor. He can sleep as late as he likes.

Especially if that sleep was to save his soon-to-be empress. 

Shizun is sleeping in the circle of his arms, right where Luo Binghe pulled him last night. His breathing remains steady and even in the way of one deeply asleep. Luo Binghe released his hold on the greater part of Shizun's mind as he left it, the part which he wrapped up and sent into those deep, weighted dreams, but it will still take some time for Shizun to come out of it. 

…Luo Binghe can help wake him up.

He tucks his face against Shizun's neck, inhaling deeply. Gently, Luo Binghe rocks against the swell of Shizun's backside. He's desperately hard in his sleep pants; given their limited time together, he was far more focused on Shen Yuan's pleasure than his own. Which isn't to say that he didn't get off, but that was in the dream. His real body responded too, especially as he rose back out of their dreams, turning that tryst with Shen Yuan over in his head the whole while. 

Shen Yuan's lovely face when he orgasmed is going to continually haunt Luo Binghe until he has another chance to see Shizun make that same face. 

He rocks against Shizun again, laving at his neck with his tongue, deepening one of the bruises he left there last night. One hand slips inside the front of Shizun's sleep robes, trailing downward until it's splayed against Shizun's stomach, just above the waistband of his pants. 

Shizun mumbles something, sleepily incoherent, and wiggles slightly in place, pressing back against Luo Binghe’s thoroughly invested cock. Luo Binghe exhibits great amounts of control by resisting the urge to forcefully wake Shizun up by flipping him onto his back and working him open so that Luo Binghe can shove himself all the way inside. Instead, he lightly presses his teeth—fangs, really, and he’s so curious to see if that affects Shizun as much as it did Shen Yuan—against the side of Shizun's neck, fighting to remain calm. 

"Tickles," Shizun says, clearer but still sleep-blurred. 

Luo Binghe unlatches his teeth. "Apologies, Shizun," he says. 

"Mmf," Shizun says, obviously ready to fall right back to sleep. 

Much as Luo Binghe would love the opportunity to continue holding Shizun in his arms, he’ll have plenty of opportunities in the future and he’s really on the very edge of his patience. He's waited so long already to have Shizun completely. He was so close last night. 

And, perhaps more than any of that, Luo Binghe needs Shizun awake to know what he remembers of the System’s destruction—and how much damage control Luo Binghe will have to do. 

Hopefully none, in which case they can proceed directly to Luo Binghe offering Shizun his second betrothal present: curing Without-A-Cure. 

"Shizun," Luo Binghe says. Then, mischievous, he whispers right in Shizun's ear, "A-Yuan."

Shizun goes rigid in his arms. Via his blood parasites, Luo Binghe can feel the adrenaline that floods him, the way his heartbeat picks up. Shizun is definitely awake now. Shizun isn't facing him, but Luo Binghe nonetheless hides his smile by tucking it into the fall of Shizun's hair. 

"What did you say?" Shizun asks, aiming for calm and missing by several li. It's cute how he tries to play it off entirely, as if he simply didn't hear properly or misunderstood what was said. A-Yuan did the same thing, but Shizun has no excuses for this attempt. He really should know better by now: even if he doesn't trust how well Luo Binghe can read him, he should at least remember how much of his body Luo Binghe has already invaded, and therefore what information he can extrapolate by reading those responses. 

"Shen Yuan," Luo Binghe purrs. "That was your name, wasn't it?" 

It's not surprising, the way that Shizun fights his way out of Luo Binghe's arms. He supposes he should just be grateful Shizun didn't manage to knee him in the groin during his ungraceful scramble away from him. Luo Binghe doesn't take it personally. He can tell that Shizun isn't scared of him, not when all of Shizun's focus is on sweeping the room with his gaze, eyes darting around, presumably looking for the piercing blue light of the System. 

Will automatically mete out punishment, Luo Binghe had managed to halfway make out, from that memory directly after Shizun woke up in Shen Qingqiu’s body post-qi deviation.

What punishment could be worse than this? Shen Yuan screamed in agony while Luo Binghe desperately fought to kill the System before it was too late.

All of Shizun’s memories that feature the System will be entirely clear to Luo Binghe, should he go back through them noq. He'll be able to see precisely what the System threatened Shizun with, and if he ever was punished by the System—and if so, how. 

(He knows that the original kind Shizun was. He’s long since pieced it together, hating the conclusion that he reached: the original kind Shizun was punished with Luo Binghe.

Luo Binghe still seethes with rage that he was used as a tool to harm the man who should have been his beloved. Who is, now. It was a cruelty that only occurred because the System chose to place Shen Yuan inside Shen Qingqiu's body, then chose to drop him into Luo Binghe’s dreamscape, where Luo Binghe could be fooled by that scum's appearance and not realize the kindness just below the surface, waiting to be gifted to Luo Binghe with soft hands and a warm smile.)

Luo Binghe sits up. With a sigh, he uses his blood parasites to force his erection down. It won't take much to get it to come back, but for this conversation with Shizun, he needs to give his beloved his full attention. 

"It's all right," Luo Binghe soothes Shizun. "The System can't hurt you anymore, Shizun." 

Shizun's gaze snaps to Luo Binghe. He stares.

"Binghe," he says. "How do you know about that?"

"Shizun told me what it was called," Luo Binghe says. He edges forward, now that Shizun has calmed enough that he won't take flight at even this slight movement nor the offered kindness extended toward him. Luo Binghe lays a hand against Shizun's pale cheek, staring intently into his eyes as he asks, "Does Shizun not remember?"

No, scream Shizun’s wide eyes. “When was this?"

"During the night," Luo Binghe says. 

Not 'last night,' but 'during the night.' Shizun is quick to catch on to the difference. 

"Meng Mo's dream arts, again," Shizun says. He doesn't sound angry, precisely. More...annoyed. Frustrated, though whether at himself or Luo Binghe, Luo Binghe isn't sure. 

"Shizun is clever," Luo Binghe says, strange relief rising in him at the knowledge that Shizun doesn’t seem to remember. Not yet. Luo Binghe still has him. He still has time to pull Shizun fully onto his side, so that Shizun won’t ever want to leave him.

“Exactly how long has Binghe been poking around inside my dreamscape?" Shizun asks shrewdly.

"Very clever," Luo Binghe laughs. 

"Luo Binghe, explain yourself!" 

Luo Binghe allows his hand to drop from Shizun's cheek, but he won't allow Shizun to back away from him or try to run. They must have this conversation. He grabs Shizun's right hand in his own, lacing their fingers together. It can be a restraint as much as a steady anchor in the tumult this conversation will create.

"Did Shizun think this disciple wouldn't have questions?" he asks. "Questions about the Abyss?"

Shizun flinches. 

Luo Binghe isn't the disciple who Shizun personally threw into the Abyss. Shen Qingqiu's actions were never a betrayal: Luo Binghe always knew his scum master would try to kill him should his heritage be revealed. He'd already tried to kill Luo Binghe many times before that, when he still thought Luo Binghe as human as they came: the flawed cultivation manual; the fight against Elder Sky Hammer; even some of the missions he sent Luo Binghe on as a disciple, undertrained and undersupplied and overwhelmed...

Luo Binghe had stubbornly lived through all that. He'd lived through the Abyss, too, and had his revenge when he returned to the Human Realm. 

No, Shen Qingqiu trying to kill him was never a betrayal. Shizun's actions toward his disciple were. 

It was a betrayal that didn't make sense. 

Luo Binghe questioned it from the very beginning. Once he started poking at the shape of it, he only had more questions. 

He’s tried so hard not to lie to Shizun this whole time, the better to build trust between them, the better to—hopefully—blunt his anger when he discovers the truth. 

Luo Binghe doesn't have to lie about this. 

"When I arrived on Qing Jing Peak," Luo Binghe continues, "Shizun's behavior was not that of a man who gloried in disposing of a demon, nor even that of a man who took up some unfortunate but necessary task, then washed his hands and soul clean of the matter.” Shizun's breath hitches. "Shizun regretted it. He grieved so strongly. Why, then, did he do it in the first place?" 

Shizun doesn't speak. 

"Shizun's memories didn't lie," Luo Binghe says. "He cared for his disciple. He always treated him with kindness, always wanted the best for him, dared tell him that demons could be just as villainous or heroic as humans, even sacrificed his cultivation for him...so why would he throw that disciple away?" He leans forward. "And why, when I went to examine that specific memory for answers, was it so damaged?"

"...What?" Shizun manages. 

"I couldn't see the whole of the memory," Luo Binghe says. "No matter how hard I tried, no matter what what I did, even consulting with Meng Mo—there were pieces of it missing. Pieces that I couldn't see. Pieces that some presence in Shizun's mind was hiding from me." 

"You put it all together from that?" Shizun asks. He groans. "This master should have known not to underestimate Luo Binghe's intelligence. Or his determination to search for the answers that he wanted."

Luo Binghe preens. No, Shizun shouldn't have. Not when he spent three years teaching the imposter child, and especially not when he was obviously a devotee of Luo Binghe’s, one who studied the legends surrounding him quite thoroughly as Shen Yuan.

"I had a few other clues," Luo Binghe admits. "Things Shizun said or did." Not all of them things that this Shizun said or did, but close enough. And that's without getting into the tangled mess that was one of Luo Binghe's biggest clues: why Shizun was so different from Shen Qingqiu in the first place. "When I put it all together..."

"When you refused to stay out of my dreamscape, you mean," Shizun says tartly. 

"Shizun, how could I stay out when I knew that you were in danger?" 

Shizun looks away. His fingers squeeze against Luo Binghe's. "I wasn't in danger," he lies. 

"Weren't you?" Luo Binghe asks. He reaches out, a light touch against Shizun's chin turning his head so that he faces Luo Binghe once more. "Weren't you, Shizun?" 

Shizun's eyes squeeze closed so that he doesn't have to look. “…I was a coward," he confesses, near soundlessly. "I should have—”

"Disobeyed? How would it have punished you if you did?" Any man might fear pain. Luo Binghe has the distinct feeling that Shizun's punishment at the edge of the Abyss may have been far worse than mere pain. 

Shizun shudders. His eyes crack open. His expression is raw, flayed open, as he says, "Binghe, I chose myself over you. I destroyed your innocence, your happiness, to save my own worthless life. I consigned you to hell, just for that!”

The System would have killed him. 

Luo Binghe had suspected such. It nevertheless burns to hear.

Some of the worlds Luo Binghe visited didn’t have a Shen Qingqiu. Luo Binghe wonders if any of them held a Shizun who made a different choice, whether on the edge of the Abyss or in some other circumstance of the System’s devising. He wonders how many of the worlds he didn't visit might also have a Shizun who chose differently—to his own detriment.

He doesn’t want to think too hard about that prospect, which makes his heart squeeze in his chest and his blood parasites roil in distress.

He doesn’t want to think about this soul unceremoniously murdered for refusing to play along with the System’s cruel games.

Knowing Shizun, there’s at least one iteration of him who refused.

Even that theoretical Shizun is one too many.

"Shizun made the right choice," Luo Binghe says. He presses his forehead against Shizun's, trying to impress the weight of his words into his beloved's heart and mind.

Luo Binghe would kill for Shizun. He spent years traveling through world after world, searching out this soul, driving himself near to destruction. If he were in the imposter child’s place, thrown down into the Abyss, he would be furious, insane with this betrayal—and still, he wouldn't give up Shizun for anything.

What were a few years in the Abyss next to Shizun?

"Shizun made the right choice," Luo Binghe repeats, throat tight. “Shizun’s life isn’t worthless. It isn’t worthless at all. Do you think I could ever be happy in a world that doesn't have you in it? Do you think I wouldn't commit atrocities to have you returned safely to my side? Shizun, you're everything to me. You are my happiness."

Every word that Luo Binghe says is the brutal truth. He's not speaking for the imposter child here: he speaks only for himself. 

"Binghe..." 

Long fingers brush against his cheek. Luo Binghe shifts backward, widening the gap between them, and looks down to find, sparkling on Shizun's fingertips...

"Oh," Luo Binghe says. He thought he had excised his ability to cry centuries ago, back when he was that stupid, naive child on Qing Jing Peak, willing to believe that its Peak Lord might ever truly accept him. 

Shen Qingqiu hadn't.

Shizun has. 

"This old and still crying, ah?" Shizun asks, achingly tender. He reaches out again, wiping more wetness from Luo Binghe's face.

Luo Binghe blinks furiously. He's not that stupid crybaby imposter. He's better than that. He's in control of himself, he's always in control of himself—so why does Shizun's feather-light touch make new tears well up all the faster? 

"Come here," Shizun says. He pulls the hand still grasped by Luo Binghe out of his hold. Luo Binghe doesn't have time to mourn the loss before Shizun is using it to tuck Luo Binghe’s head against his shoulder. The other sweeps up and down Luo Binghe's back, a soothing motion. "Binghe must have been so scared and lonely all this time. Even when he escaped the Abyss, his troubles have remained, and he couldn't even talk to this master about them..."

Luo Binghe clutches fiercely at Shizun. He can't believe that he's been reduced to this, crying like a child, but he can't stop. He really can't stop. He was fine, and then somehow a few words from Shizun are enough to do this to him? 

Bastard. Fiend. How is it that this man is so capable of cracking Luo Binghe open and exposing all the ugliness inside him? How is it that, even when Luo Binghe is so certain that he's on top of everything, Shizun always makes him lose control? 

"It's all right," Shizun says. "You're all right, Binghe. Shizun is here. Shizun won't leave you again." 

"Promise," Luo Binghe snarls into Shizun's shoulder, his voice cracking halfway through the word. His fingers dig in hard at Shizun's back. "You have to promise." 

"I promise," Shizun says. 

Luo Binghe will hold him to that. He'll add it to their wedding vows. He'll cast a ritual to block Shizun from leaving this world. He'll never let Shizun go, never.

Not again.

"My brave Binghe," Shizun whispers, kissing the side of his head. It lances through him. “My brave, wonderful boy.”

Mother used to say such things to him, back when he was small and fragile and starving, but happy with her. No one has said such things to him since. No one has held him like this, either. No one has seen the extent of the ugliness and let him this close without flinching. 

So Luo Binghe clings even harder to Shizun. He lets it all come pouring out: centuries of grief and rage and—yes, Shizun is right, loneliness. How dare Shizun make him face this? How dare he? 

How dare Luo Binghe let him?

It takes a long time for the tears to taper off. Even when they do, Luo Binghe finds himself unable—or perhaps simply unwilling—to move. He doesn't raise his head from Shizun's shoulder, nor does he allow Shizun to leave his hold. Shizun began humming some time ago, an unfamiliar, quiet tune. At some point, he also stopped rubbing at Luo Binghe's back in favor of untying and then finger-combing his way through Luo Binghe's hair, scratching softly at Luo Binghe's scalp, and—

Luo Binghe swallows another round of tears that wants to burst out of him at the realization that Shizun has replicated the little braid the original kind Shizun gave to him, though this one is on the opposite side of his head. Luo Binghe never got around to cutting the first one out of his hair, reluctant to part with it even with Shizun here. 

Yet now Shizun has given him the same gift. 

"Shizun," Luo Binghe mumbles, voice cracking horribly. 

"Are you feeling better?" Shizun asks, patient and compassionate as ever. 

Luo Binghe nods his head, feeling strangely shy. 

"Do you think you can stand to drink some water?" Shizun asks. "I'm afraid you'll have to let me go for that," he adds, rather wry. 

Astute of Shizun, to realize how very much Luo Binghe doesn't want to do that. He refuses to be a coward about it, though, so he detangles himself from Shizun. He tries to keep his head bowed so that Shizun can't see the evidence of his breakdown, as if half the evidence isn't ground into the shoulder of his sleeping robe. Shizun stops him before his head can dip too low, cupping his cheeks in his palms and tilting his chin upward. 

"Binghe still looks so beautiful, even like this," Shizun sighs, dabbing at Luo Binghe's cheeks with the cuffs of his sleeves. "It's truly unfair..."

"Shizun is the most beautiful," Luo Binghe says. 

Shizun snorts out a laugh. "As if this master could ever compare to Binghe. Hush, you." 

Luo Binghe obediently hushes. He remains sitting on the bed as Shizun fetches an ewer of water from the nightstand, pouring a bit of it out onto a handkerchief to finish washing Luo Binghe's face. Then he offers Luo Binghe the promised cup of water, silently refilling it once Luo Binghe finishes the first one. He refuses a third cup, which leaves Shizun to place the ewer and cup back on their table and then rejoin Luo Binghe on the bed, sitting next to him with his hands folded in his lap.

They sit in silence for a short while. Shizun is the one to break it.

"...What exactly happened overnight?" Shizun asks. "When Luo Binghe says the System is gone...what does he mean? What did he do?" 

Luo Binghe clears his throat, getting the last of the stuffiness out. He’s pathetically grateful for Shizun changing the subject and not drawing any further attention to his nonsensical breakdown.

"Shizun’s memories were obviously interfered with, and I caught glimpses of the System when I truly focused”—after he recognized that surge of power and went looking for it—“but there was also a, a locked door, of sorts, in Shizun’s mind. I could sense something behind it, though I didn't wish to pass through it until I was certain it wouldn't harm Shizun or alert the System,” Luo Binghe says. "When I entered the room, I found part of Shizun's mind. He called himself Shen Yuan." 

"Fascinating," Shizun says, quite genuinely. "The System must have stuffed all my memories of that life behind the door, so that if anyone went snooping," and here he levels a mock glare at Luo Binghe, "they wouldn't find anything they weren't supposed to." 

"It was suspicious that Shizun's memories were damaged and parts of him were hidden away," Luo Binghe says. “Hiding it that way only made it more obvious something was wrong.” He doesn't want to grant the System any credit for its work. Besides, it was sloppy. It truly didn't take Luo Binghe all that long to figure it out. 

"I suppose so," Shizun says, huffing out a laugh. "The System likes—liked—to choose the most expedient route, which was not always necessarily the best one." That sounds like the voice of experience talking. Shizun pauses very briefly, then says, "Binghe met...my younger self? Shen Yuan?"

More than met, Luo Binghe thinks wickedly. He won't breathe a word of it to Shizun until and unless the memories begin filtering through on their own. Until then, the memories of their coupling in the Dream Realm can remain Luo Binghe’s own private joy.

That doesn’t mean he can’t tease Shizun, though.

"Mm," Luo Binghe says. "Shizun was very cute as A-Yuan." 

"Shameless!" Shizun snaps, hitting Luo Binghe on the shoulder. "Talking about your shizun like that! Calling me so familiarly!" 

"It's only the truth," Luo Binghe protests, enjoying this immensely. "A-Yuan was smaller than Shizun is, and—”

“Binghe.”

“—dressed so scandalously, with his hair cut short, and he—”

"Binghe! Enough!" Shizun says, real distress filtering into his voice. 

Luo Binghe shuts his mouth. He examines Shizun, who is hunched in on himself, less in a way that implies embarrassment so much as it implies some kind of pain. He says more than he asks, "Shizun doesn't like that name. Does he." 

Shizun lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping. "I don't know," he says in a low voice. "It's been a very long time since I heard anyone use that name, and I...Shen Yuan is dead. That whole life is gone. I'm not him anymore; I can't be."

Hm. Luo Binghe had assumed Shen Yuan came into being the way he did because of what the System did, bundling all those memories together and shoving them behind a door in order to keep Luo Binghe from seeing him. Shen Yuan, then, was the mental representation of all those memories. Not Shizun, but not not Shizun, and also not a soul in his own right.

With the way this conversation is going, Luo Binghe is starting to suspect that Shizun had a hand in Shen Yuan’s strange existence as well, perhaps nearly as much as the System did. He makes it sound as though he purposefully locked Shen Yuan away, cleaving that name and life from his identity and never looking at it again, even when prompted. 

Luo Binghe was afraid to lock Shen Yuan completely away. He left the door cracked between Shizun and Shen Yuan. Shizun so starkly drew the dividing line between those parts of his lives; Luo Binghe wonders what will happen now that he has smudged that careful line. 

Something to circle back to later, he supposes. When Shizun is more ready to hear it. It can’t be healthy.

"I found Shen Yuan," Luo Binghe says, continuing his report and giving Shizun the bare facts of what happened, this time with no editorializing. "He guided me to the heart of the System, the place where it connected to Shizun, and I tore it apart, then erected a barrier to keep it or anything like it from ever trying to enter Shizun’s mind again.”

“…It's really gone?” Shizun asks, after a moment taken to absorb that. He sounds cautious, careful. A man who can’t quite believe that the ice won’t break beneath him, plunging him down into the drowning depths, even when another promises him it’s safe and jumps on the ice to prove it. “You're sure?"

"It's really gone," Luo Binghe assures him.

"Oh," Shizun says in distinct wonder. Then he's pulling Luo Binghe back into his arms, clutching at him as fiercely as Luo Binghe had earlier. "Binghe, you..." he says, muffled against Luo Binghe's shoulder. "Thank you." 

Luo Binghe returns the embrace. He waits for Shizun to at least begin composing himself, measuring that by the intensity of Shizun's hold. When it finally lessens, he asks, "Does that mean this disciple isn't in trouble?"

Shizun huffs out a reluctant laugh, not lifting his head. "I suppose we can look past it in this case," he says. Quietly, he adds, "Binghe still calls this one Shizun." 

It's not a question. The real question lies beneath it. Luo Binghe can see the shape of it. He is perhaps even more uniquely suited to answer it than the crybaby imposter or the imposter child ever could be; after all, both of them had Shizun dropped into their laps. Luo Binghe purposefully sought him out. No, he didn't know that Shizun was a different soul when he began his search, but Shizun called out to him nonetheless.

He chose Shizun, in every way that matters. 

"You're more my Shizun than that man could ever be," Luo Binghe says. "I'm so glad he's gone, when it means I get to have you."

Shizun tucks his head further against Luo Binghe's shoulder, as if his expression isn't already fully concealed. So thin-faced, his beloved. That's all right. It means Luo Binghe gets to hold him ever tighter. He'll coax those hidden expressions from Shizun over time; they'll be out in the open, but not for the public to consume. They’ll be Luo Binghe's alone, a shared intimacy between them. 

"Binghe shouldn't say such things so insincerely," Shizun says. 

"I mean it all," Luo Binghe. 

A pause, then Shizun says, "Binghe makes it sound like..." He stops, starts again. "Everything that Luo Binghe has said and done..." 

"Oh?" Luo Binghe says. "Is Shizun finally ready to listen?"

"I think you made yourself quite clear last night."

It’s Luo Binghe’s turn to press a kiss against Shizun's head. "In some ways, yes," he says. "But I don't want Shizun only for sex. I want Shizun in every way possible. I want him eating meals with me, braiding my hair at night for me, reading poetry to me, adjusting my clothes for me…living his whole life with me…ruling my kingdom with me." Shizun draws in a stuttering breath. "I want Shizun to be my wife," Luo Binghe murmurs directly in his ear. “To be my empress."

Shizun shudders that same breath out. 

"I hope Shizun found his first betrothal present sufficient to meet his standards,” Luo Binghe adds. "This Binghe worked hard during the night on it.” In more ways than one.

"Sufficient," Shizun scoffs. "Sufficient, he calls it. And 'first'? What does he call these rooms, all the robes and jewelry and books and everything, if not betrothal presents?"

"Only what Shizun is due," Luo Binghe says, resisting the urge to shrug for fear that it would dislodge Shizun. 

He needn't have worried about it, given the way that Shizun draws himself from the circle of Luo Binghe's arms. They remain close together, nearly in each others’ laps, but Shizun now has enough distance to examine his face, to read his expression for sincerity. 

Luo Binghe is a consummate liar, but in the whole of his long life he has never meant anything more than he does this proposal. 

"Binghe really means it?"

"I mean it," Luo Binghe says. "All I want is Shizun. Won’t you marry me?” 

He'll say it however many times Shizun needs to hear it, however long it takes until Shizun believes it. It's understandable that he would doubt Luo Binghe, given what Shen Yuan knew—and therefore Shizun also knows—about his harem. Luo Binghe will keep assuring him until those doubts fade, even when Shizun finds out the truth of him.

He just wants Shizun’s faith in him—Shizun’s love for him—to be stronger than anything else which lies between them.

(He needs it to be. He won’t be able to take it if it isn’t.)

"How could I ever say no to Binghe?" Shizun asks with helpless fondness. "If this is truly what Binghe wants, then—yes. Yes, I'll marry you." 

Luo Binghe drags Shizun into an ebullient kiss. He tries to keep it at least somewhat chaste, though being honest with himself, he knows that it's a losing battle from the start. Especially given the way that Shizun kisses him back, deepening it beyond what Luo Binghe was aiming for. 

"Shizun," Luo Binghe says, surfacing for air some time later. "Shizun, do you want your second betrothal present?"

“You already have a second one ready, do you? So eager!” Shizun says, the tart reply doing nothing to hide the eager glint in his eyes or disguise his breathiness, his kiss-swollen lips. 

"Yes, I do and I am,” Luo Binghe says, grinning wildly. "Shizun, I didn't finish telling you all I wanted you to listen to. You shut down the topic the last time we discussed it, but listen to me now." He clasps Shizun’s hands in his own. "Shizun, I can cure your Without-A-Cure." 

"H-how?" Shizun asks, but the rosy hue to his cheeks, not to mention the quickly aborted glance down toward Luo Binghe's lap, tells Luo Binghe he already knows. So that made it into the legends, too, did it? Not surprising, really. 

"I think Shizun has a guess," Luo Binghe says. "Funny, didn't he say that there was no cure...?"

"Luo Binghe!" Shizun says, obviously flustered. He yanks his hands from Luo Binghe’s, clearly wishing he had a fan to fiddle with or hide his face. "If you're so sure you found a cure, then tell me, how did you discover that information?" 

"Research," Luo Binghe says languidly. He did research it, afterwards, if that's what you call ripping through demonic forces and having them scream all the information about Heavenly Demons they could at him; only later did he find written records pertaining to the abilities of Heavenly Demons. (In the Underground Palace, even! He’ll dig a few of the scrolls out for Shizun if he expresses any interest in them.) Luo Binghe technically first learned about a Heavenly Demon's capability to serve as a panacea through practical demonstrations, but Shizun can call that ‘research in the field' if he’d like. "Shizun, there's no need to hide your knowledge. Shen Yuan said a few things to me..." 

He trails off suggestively. It's true that Shen Yuan said several incriminating things to him, though nothing about Without-A-Cure. No, that part Luo Binghe put together from Shen Yuan's obvious familiarity with the legends surrounding Luo Binghe, the portraits on his shrine walls, and the way that, in hindsight, Shizun shut down the discussion surrounding the cure because he did know what Luo Binghe was offering and, silly man, hadn't yet come around to it.

"Oh, no," Shizun groans, finally giving in and covering his face with his hands. 

"There's no need to be embarrassed," Luo Binghe says, coaxing. 

"How much did he tell you?" 

"Enough," Luo Binghe shrugs. He doesn't really want to dive into what all Shen Yuan said and what all Luo Binghe knows. Nor does he want, at this moment, to have to deal with whatever Shizun must think 'his' reaction is to legends about his life which extend so far beyond the life that ‘he’ has currently lived. "Shizun, that doesn't matter. Won't you let me cure you? Please?"

Shizun groans again, wordlessly. Then, slowly, Shizun nods. 

Finally, Luo Binghe thinks, and pounces. 

Chapter Text

Shen Qingqiu has had an incredibly strange twenty-four hours. Twelve shichen. Whatever. Fuck, it hasn't even been a full twelve, has it? More like eight or nine. 

Yesterday, Luo Binghe brought him to a beautiful garden, which was so obviously a date in hindsight that it’s embarrassing. Then Shen Qingqiu had gotten in his head about Sha Hualing, PIDW’s massive harem, and Luo Binghe's prospects, which directly led to Luo Binghe not only confessing his romantic(!!!) feelings to him but immediately diving into sex with him. Twice! In one night!

If that wasn't enough, then apparently Luo Binghe had jumped on the chance to move his courtship a step further by infiltrating Shen Qingqiu's mind (again! Because he’s apparently been doing this since before he ever brought Shen Qingqiu to the Underground Palace!), meeting some weird, definitely embarrassing dream avatar of Shen Qingqiu's past self, and killing the System. Followed by Luo Binghe waking, having a minor breakdown in Shen Qingqiu's lap, proposing marriage (marriage! To Luo Binghe! As his empress!), and jumping Shen Qingqiu's bones again. 

...Not that Shen Qingqiu is exactly complaining here. 

He's lived with Without-A-Cure for this long, but can he be blamed for wanting to get rid of it? He hadn't thought it was on the table, and since he fell asleep so quickly after Luo Binghe made his intentions clear last night, he didn’t have time to think through all the implications of being in a relationship with a Heavenly Demon. It should have been quite obvious, but, well. Instead it took Luo Binghe directly asking for Shen Qingqiu to remember what the trajectory of their relationship would logically mean regarding his poisoning. 

If it's anything like last night, dual cultivating with Luo Binghe will be absolutely no hardship. The Protagonist Halo—specifically, the part of it as relates to Luo Binghe's stallion status, though maybe Shen Qingqiu shouldn't call it that anymore, if it's solely focused on him—is in fine form! 

Luo Binghe is quick to begin stripping Shen Qingqiu of his sleeping robes. He's been eager since he woke up; Shen Qingqiu hasn't forgotten about that slow slide of Luo Binghe's morning wood against him! Nor the way Luo Binghe had slipped his hand inside his robes, sliding downward but stopping before he actually touched anything, uh, interesting. 

…Shen Qingqiu hadn't been opposed, even half-asleep as he'd been. It's only that Luo Binghe had derailed, you know, things from proceeding when he called Shen Qingqiu that name. 

It made Shen Qingqiu feel squirmy and strange to hear Luo Binghe call him 'A-Yuan.' Not necessarily bad, but—if Luo Binghe is going to call him that, it isn't going to be now. It might not ever happen again. Shen Yuan is dead; Shen Qingqiu's whole existence is predicated on that. 

Fortunately, Shen Qingqiu has plenty of other business to distract him from such thoughts. He'll deal with them later! Right now, he's pretty focused on the way that Luo Binghe has already managed to get the both of them out of their robes, leaving them only in their inner pants. Said pants don't do much to disguise how interested both of them are in the proceedings. Especially after that long make-out session. 

Luo Binghe pecks little kisses all over him, his face and his neck and, now that his upper robes are gone, the countless marks he left against Shen Qingqiu's chest last night. Good grief, was he mauled by an animal?! 

Shen Qingqiu firmly refuses to acknowledge the way that Luo Binghe pressing his lips against those spots right now leave him shivery and excited. 

Luo Binghe pops his way back up from his chest in order to kiss Shen Qingqiu filthily; just like last night, he keeps going until Shen Qingqiu is dizzy from lack of breath. Does Luo Binghe have a greater lung capacity as a demon, or is it the Protagonist Halo protecting him? Whatever the case, Shen Qingqiu doesn't resist as Luo Binghe bears him downward, until Shen Qingqiu is flat on his back. Well, flat save for the pillow shoved hurriedly beneath him. Luo Binghe smoothly transitions from placing the pillow beneath him to copping a feel of his ass, because he's a menace.

Shen Qingqiu can play this game, too. Besides, he hasn't yet had the chance to appreciate all of Luo Binghe's, ah, assets. He finds himself quite pleased when he grabs a plentiful double handful. Especially when he's able to use that hold to ruck Luo Binghe against him and rub their clothed erections against each other. 

"Mmm," Luo Binghe moans against his mouth. He easily allows Shen Qingqiu to move him again, while he focuses on plundering Shen Qingqiu's mouth—and snaking his hand toward Shen Qingqiu’s waist once more, hooking fingers in the waistband of his pants so he can begin tugging them off. 

Shen Qingqiu braces his feet against the bed and lifts his hips as best he can to make it that much easier for Luo Binghe to get that done. It's a side benefit that this rubs them even more firmly together. 

If Luo Binghe is removing Shen Qingqiu's pants, he should probably do the same for his fian—for his fi—for him. So Shen Qingqiu starts working at that, taking immense pleasure at the feeling of smooth, rippling skin beneath his fingertips, the plushness of Luo Binghe's ass and the thickness of his thighs that flex beneath his hold as he works the pants steadily downward. 

Luo Binghe's erection, freed of its constraints, feels heavenly as it rubs against Shen Qingqiu's own. Somehow it may be even better than last night, or perhaps Shen Qingqiu is so unused to such things that any connection feels like a revelation. 

His hands roam along Luo Binghe's hips, his back, the sides of his ribs, and Luo Binghe does much the same to him, touching everywhere available to him. Luo Binghe kicks both their pairs of pants off of the bed to join their upper robes on the floor. He's remarkably coordinated while doing so; Shen Qingqiu is sure he would have accidentally kicked Luo Binghe in the process. Shen Qingqiu needs all the face he can muster for this, because he has absolutely no idea what he's doing. 

Which is perhaps why he's so startled as Luo Binghe reaches down between them and begins stroking them together. 

"Mmph?" is all Shen Qingqiu can manage to get out from around Luo Binghe's tongue in his mouth. 

Luo Binghe takes the initiative to distance himself just barely from Shen Qingqiu, enough to explain. His hand doesn't pause at all. 

"Shizun is too tense," he says. "You need to be relaxed." 

Well, an orgasm will certainly help with that, Shen Qingqiu has to agree. But isn't there a simpler way to accomplish that?

"Can't you, ah, mm, use your blood parasites?" he asks, trying to hold it together even as Luo Binghe keeps on with the handjob. Back then, Shen Yuan read a great many sexual escapades that featured Luo Binghe's blood parasites quite prominently. With women, obviously, but a lot of the same principles still apply, right?

"It's more fun this way," Luo Binghe says. “Besides, it’s Shizun’s first time, isn't it?" 

Shen Qingqiu nearly headbutts Luo Binghe with the force of all the furious embarrassment that fills him. "You!" he says. "As if you're so worldly, Luo Binghe!" 

Luo Binghe laughs and placates him with more kissing. Shen Qingqiu bites vengefully at his tongue when Luo Binghe slips it inside again; like hell he's going to reward Luo Binghe with some sweet kiss when he says such impertinent things! This, unfortunately, backfires against him.

"Shizun really wants this disciple's blood parasites inside him along with the rest of this disciple," Luo Binghe murmurs against his lips while Shen Qingqiu gasps for breath. "This disciple can provide." 

Copper floods into his mouth and over his tongue bare seconds later. Luo Binghe must have bitten open the inside of his cheek or torn into his lips with his teeth, because that’s definitely blood inside Shen Qingqiu's mouth now. Shen Qingqiu swallows it, because he doesn't have much of a choice, does he? Besides, he already has so much of Luo Binghe's blood inside him, what does a little more matter?

Luo Binghe's hand squeezes tighter around both of their cocks, bordering on painful. He also, as Shen Qingqiu continues swallowing that blood, lets out a guttural groan. He pulls away from Shen Qingqiu's mouth and says, sounding agonized, "Shizun."

Then, rather than his tongue, it's the fingers of Luo Binghe's other hand that are slipping their way inside Shen Qingqiu's mouth. Two of them. Shen Qingqiu licks at them, trying to copy the fluid way Luo Binghe used his tongue minutes earlier, even if this is a different situation. Luo Binghe draws his fingers shallowly out and then fucks them back in, following the same rhythm as the hand controlling their erections. Shen Qingqiu falls into that rhythm too, sucking at his fingers, allowing them to go a bit deeper each time. 

"Shizun, Shizun, you're so beautiful," Luo Binghe pants. "I'm going to fuck you so full, I swear I will. You're never going to want for anything ever again, I'll make sure of it, and I'll fill you every single day, however you want, all different ways, you don't even have to ask—”

Shen Qingqiu's lips part, trying to pull himself off of Luo Binghe so that he can protest this filth, but Luo Binghe takes the opportunity to shove a third finger into his mouth. Shen Qingqiu doesn't have any way to make his protest known other than to pinch sharply at Luo Binghe's side, which merely makes him buck in place, a spark of wild glee and overwhelming lust lighting his face. 

Not only did Shen Qingqiu make Luo Binghe a cutsleeve, he raised himself an M! 

Luo Binghe's hands move continuously. Shen Qingqiu isn't going to be able to take that much more of this, not with Luo Binghe moving at this pace, but that's the point. Luo Binghe is trying to get him off quickly, trying to get him to relax, which means it's no problem if he—

Shen Qingqiu shudders through his orgasm. Luo Binghe milks him through the whole of it, his fingers roughly fucking Shen Qingqiu's mouth, until Shen Qingqiu's pleasure tips toward the barest edge of overstimulation—and Luo Binghe gentles. 

"There we are," he says, sounding pleased as he withdraws spit-slick fingers from Shen Qingqiu.

For his part, Shen Qingqiu is busy enjoying the high of the orgasm now that Luo Binghe is no longer making him feel too much. He isn't watching Luo Binghe, which is why he startles as Luo Binghe’s slick fingers trail along his chest and dip through the come on his stomach, steadily making their way down past his cock, his stones, until they touch a place that no one has ever touched him before. Shen Qingqiu twitches. 

"Relax," Luo Binghe murmurs. His fingers gently circle, pressing feather-light against his hole, but go no further than that. Shen Qingqiu's instinctual tension drains out of him as Luo Binghe continues to rub so lightly at him without doing anything else. 

"Good," Luo Binghe says. "Shizun is doing so well." 

Shen Qingqiu huffs. "You shouldn't call me that when we're like this." 

"Shizun has already banned 'A-Yuan' from use," Luo Binghe says, pouting. "Now he bans 'Shizun,’ too. What does that leave?" 

"Qingqiu," Shen Qingqiu says with a confidence he doesn't feel. 

"Hm," Luo Binghe says, sounding disinterested. "Maybe. I think I would prefer...'wife.'"

Shen Qingqiu's stomach clenches strangely. It's not the first time that Luo Binghe has addressed him as such today, but something about this time is...different. Probably because of the way Luo Binghe's is currently circling his hole—and because Shen Qingqiu is bare, completely unable to hide his reaction.

"Oh, Shizun likes that," Luo Binghe says appreciatively. 

"Who likes it?!" Shen Qingqiu demands. "If anything, I should be your husband! We're both men, after all!" 

"If you say so," Luo Binghe says. "Wife." 

Fuck this world and its stupid porn logic, Shen Qingqiu thinks as his dick fills out a bit more. There's no way he should be getting hard again yet, Airplane. Don’t you understand anything about male refractory periods?! Also, he's pretty sure just existing in this world makes Airplane's shitty kinks apply to people, because Shen Qingqiu is not into—whatever this is, whatever Luo Binghe thinks he's doing by calling Shen Qingqiu wife!

"Shizun is marrying into this lord's house," Luo Binghe continues. "That makes him my wife." His eyes are dark, assessing, far too appreciative as he rakes them over Shen Qingqiu. "And what a pretty wife he is." 

"Shut—” Shen Qingqiu starts. He cuts off with a gasp as Luo Binghe takes advantage of his moment of distraction, the one moment when he was no longer paying attention to what Luo Binghe's fingers were doing, to breach him. It can't be much more than the first knuckle of one of Luo Binghe's fingers, but it feels strange. Luo Binghe gives him only a moment to adjust before he begins rocking it in and out at a steady pace, going a bit deeper each time he rocks back in. It doesn't seem all that long before his whole finger is inside Shen Qingqiu. 

Well, he guesses he knows why Luo Binghe was so intent on shoving those fingers into Shen Qingqiu's mouth before this. And then making sure they were coated with other substances as well.

"That's it, wife, just like that," Luo Binghe says, finger thrusting languidly. "You're taking me so well." 

Shen Qingqiu moans. "Don't call me that!" 

"Shizun, then," Luo Binghe says. 

"Qingqiu!"

"Shizun," Luo Binghe says implacably, "or wife." 

Shen Qingqiu screams into the palms of his hands. "You're a menace!"

"I am as Shizun raised me," Luo Binghe says, which is absolutely not something you should be saying to someone when you have a finger up their ass. 

"Call me Qingqiu or—fuck!"

"Soon," Luo Binghe says soothingly, busy continuing to work that second finger inside Shen Qingqiu. 

"Binghe, I mean it!" Shen Qingqiu says. 

Luo Binghe sighs. "Qingqiu for this occasion," he says. 

"Don't act like it's such a large concession!" Shen Qingqiu says, except he makes the mistake of looking directly at Luo Binghe and his pouting face. It's absolutely lethal. That—and the way Luo Binghe begins slowly scissoring his fingers—makes Shen Qingqiu groan. 

"Does it feel good, Qingqiu?" Luo Binghe asks sweetly, rolling the name over his tongue like it's the choicest piece of meat in the meal, an exemplary wine, the perfect crunch of a tanghulu shell beneath his teeth. Shen Qingqiu may have made a mistake: the way Luo Binghe says Qingqiu is not better than any other option. It's not better at all. 

Or maybe it wouldn't matter what Luo Binghe said. What matters is that Luo Binghe is the one saying it. 

Luo Binghe's fingers crook inside him. They brush against some spot inside him and Shen Qingqiu barely holds back a shout. He’s so busy doing that he isn't able to stop the way he arches into the sensation, chasing it. 

"There it is," Luo Binghe says with distinct satisfaction. He begins targeting that spot inside Shen Qingqiu, bullying it until Shen Qingqiu is a writhing mess. 

"Binghe!" he cries, hands clenching at the bedsheets beneath him. His cock, full once more, bounces against his stomach; he can't stop himself from simultaneously chasing Luo Binghe's movements and trying to escape them. "Binghe, Binghe—!”

Luo Binghe's other hand closes over his cock. He thumbs at the slit, spreading around the come from his previous orgasm and the pre-come from his soon-to-be second. He slides down to fondle at his stones, playing with them before fisting at Shen Qingqiu's cock, well-lubricated now, matching the movements of both hands so that Shen Qingqiu is fucking upward into Luo Binghe's fist as Luo Binghe fucks his fingers into him, hitting that spot inside every single time, a dizzying, overwhelming abundance of sensation—

Shen Qingqiu comes again. 

He blinks the tears and stars from his eyes some amount of time later. Luo Binghe is still inside him, even if he's now avoiding that spot instead of targeting it; he rocks in and out at a steady pace, stuffing Shen Qingqiu full. 

…Significantly fuller than he was already. Wetter, too. 

Shen Qingqiu props himself up on his elbows, enough so that he can almost see what Luo Binghe is doing. There is an open jar of some kind tucked next to Luo Binghe's leg. Shen Qingqiu is quite certain that Luo Binghe didn't have that earlier. Knowing how prepared his little bun always is, it's not unlikely he was carrying it with him this whole time he was courting Shen Qingqiu, waiting for the proper moment to pull it out and put it to use. 

There are definitely more than two fingers inside Shen Qingqiu now. Luo Binghe has one of Shen Qingqiu's legs thrown over his shoulder; he presses a kiss against the inside of his thigh as he shoves his fingers inside again. Four of them, unless Shen Qingqiu miscounted.

Holy shit.

Shen Qingqiu flops back down. He loses himself to the sensation.

"Hm, ah, mn, mm," Shen Qingqiu manages only little noises as Luo Binghe thrusts in and out of him. He has no idea how long he's been making such noises. The stretch and movement of Luo Binghe’s fingers has gone beyond mere 'fullness' and is swinging back around to feeling good once more, small sparks of pleasure crawling up Shen Qingqiu's spine. It's a slow pleasure, building steadily instead of crashing over him like his first two orgasms. It’s rather like drinking sips of warm plum wine and allowing the heat of the drink to build inside as the alcohol does its work. 

Shen Qingqiu will blame that lazily drunken feeling for the noise of protest that slips out of him along with Luo Binghe's fingers. His hole clenches, too empty. 

Fortunately, he doesn't have to wait for long with that emptiness. The leg that was over Luo Binghe's shoulder is laid to the side. Then the blunt, hot head of Luo Binghe's Heavenly Pillar presses against him. It doesn't take much work on Luo Binghe's part before it pops past Shen Qingqiu's rim. Luo Binghe pauses there.

"Qingqiu," Luo Binghe breathes out. He's braced over Shen Qingqiu's body now, his hands flat against the bed to either side of Shen Qingqiu. "Beloved. Wife. Shizun." His zuiyin flares into life on his forehead, his irises bleeding red. "Mine." 

"Yours," Shen Qingqiu agrees, full to bursting with affection. 

Luo Binghe groans deep in his chest. He begins pushing his way inside. Even with all the prep, Luo Binghe is still so much. Shen Qingqiu feels as though there's barely room inside him to allow for Luo Binghe, yet somehow Luo Binghe keeps forcing himself deeper. By the time he levels out, Shen Qingqiu swears he can feel Luo Binghe in his throat. All his organs must have been rearranged in order to fit him. There's simply no other explanation. 

Luo Binghe starts with shallow thrusts, barely drawing back before he's shoving himself back into the deepest recesses of Shen Qingqiu's body. Then he's withdrawing halfway before re-sheathing himself; then only the head of his cock is inside Shen Qingqiu before he slams back in all the way to the hilt. He sets a steady pace, in and out and in and out, so large that everything he does presses against that spot inside Shen Qingqiu, the one that drives him wild. 

"This is what you wanted, isn't it, Qingqiu?" Luo Binghe pants, hips moving forcefully. "This is what you've been missing. I've been wanting it, too, so badly. You don't know how tempting you are. You don't know how many years I've longed for you. How often I've daydreamed of having you here beneath me, stuffed full of my cock, begging for it—”

Shen Qingqiu would love to slap his hand over Luo Binghe's mouth to stop this outpouring of filth. He's in the mist of trying to pull together words that he can use, his mind a blur, except then Luo Binghe grabs him by the hips, tilting him upwards and thus changing the angle so that Luo Binghe feels as though he's somehow going even deeper.

All rational thought flies away.

Some distant part of Shen Qingqiu thinks he should be embarrassed by the noises that he's making, but that too is quickly swept away. He can't do anything except claw at the bedsheets, trying to anchor himself somehow. 

"Binghe," he says, or thinks he does. "Please, please, Binghe!"

Luo Binghe somehow finds it within himself to work even harder. He thrusts into Shen Qingqiu while manhandling him, using his hold on his hips to fuck Shen Qingqiu more thoroughly onto his cock as he enters. 

"Please, please!" Shen Qingqiu isn't sure what he's begging for precisely, but he's praying with all his heart that it will be granted. 

"Just like that," Luo Binghe pants. "Just like that. I'll be better for you than anyone else could ever be. You'll never want anyone else."

Shen Qingqiu nods his head furiously. Who could be better than Binghe? Who could want anyone else? Whatever Binghe says, just let him—

"Come for me, Qingqiu," Luo Binghe demands, slamming into him and reaching out with a lightning-quick motion to harshly twist at one of Shen Qingqiu's nipples. 

That spark of pain is the last stone that starts an avalanche. Shen Qingqiu wails as he comes, clenching hard around Luo Binghe, who keeps fucking him even in the midst of his orgasm. Luo Binghe can't fully draw out with how tightly Shen Qingqiu is clenching around him, so he contents himself with quick, shallow motions, prolonging the wave of Shen Qingqiu's pleasure. Luo Binghe's hips begin to stutter, his movements becoming more jerky, and then there's a flood of warmth as Luo Binghe spills inside him. 

A secondary sense of warmth fills Shen Qingqiu. Qi rushes to fill him, the loop of dual cultivation combining with the release of Without-A-Cure's prison until Shen Qingqiu's meridians feel as overfull as his insides. There’s so much of it, a deluge that scrubs away all the years of accumulated grit, and leaves behind only pure, clean qi.

Shen Qingqiu has spent most of his time in this world poisoned by Without-A-Cure. He barely got to appreciate life as a cultivator before his abilities were hampered. Now they’re back, all of them, stronger than ever.

He can’t tell if he forgot what his unfettered qi feels like or if Luo Binghe pushed him into a breakthrough.

Shen Qingqiu lies there, gasping frantically for breath. His head is swimming, from the orgasm and the maybe-breakthrough and the sheer relief.

Relief that the System is gone, and now Without-A-Cure is gone, and Shen Qingqiu is still here.

He’s here with Luo Binghe.

"Qingqiu," Luo Binghe says tenderly. His head dips, nuzzling against Shen Qingqiu's cheek. 

"Binghe," Shen Qingqiu says in return. He's...free. No more Without-A-Cure. All that he lost in Sha Hualing's attack has been restored to him. It’s better than restored. Plus dual cultivating with Luo Binghe will only increase his cultivation if they continue partaking in it together. Given Luo Binghe's stated intention to take Shen Qingqiu and only Shen Qingqiu as wife—well. That's going to be rather a lot of dual cultivation, isn't it? 

As evidenced by the fact that Luo Binghe is still hard inside him and is, in point of fact, already beginning to move again. 

"No," Shen Qingqiu says. 

"But Shizun," Luo Binghe pouts, hips moving in longer thrusts now. "You're cured! We should celebrate." He smiles, his pointy little demon fangs on display, which does not make Shen Qingqiu’s heart flutter. "There are so many things for us to celebrate." 

Shen Qingqiu shouldn't have bothered waking up this morning. 

Luo Binghe fucks Shizun into unconsciousness. Shizun stays conscious for a good long while, bolstering himself with his newly-restored qi whenever he starts to fade, but beyond a certain point there's nothing even that can do to keep him awake. 

That's all right. Luo Binghe will take good care of him in the meantime. He'll bring this round to a close soon, no matter how much he wishes to continue, because he doesn't want Shizun to miss any of it. Luo Binghe has so very many things that he wants to do with Shizun, all sorts of positions and roles and equipment...

Shizun's head lolls against Luo Binghe's chest as Luo Binghe continues to bounce him on his cock. Shizun takes him so very well, his hole perfectly fitting around Luo Binghe, tight and wonderful. Luo Binghe has fucked it open and filled it with his come, enough so that there is the faintest swell to Shizun's stomach that Luo Binghe can't resist stroking, especially when he comes one last time, filling Shizun up to the brim. 

Ah, Luo Binghe wishes he could stay like this forever. Unfortunately, Shizun will likely be cross with him if he wakes up to find himself a mess, so Luo Binghe reluctantly lifts Shizun off of him, lying him down flat on the bed and watching his spend slowly leak out of him, Shizun's hole fluttering all the while. It is perhaps one of the loveliest, most arousing sights Luo Binghe has ever seen. 

Next time, Luo Binghe will eat his come out of Shizun before stuffing him full once more. Shen Yuan liked it when Luo Binghe ate him out; he wonders if Shizun will enjoy it just as much. 

They have plenty of time to find out. 

Luo Binghe rolls off the bed, carefully avoiding the pot of unguent (thankfully unbroken) that he'd knocked off of it at some point, and sweeps Shizun into his arms. He carries him to the baths and sets about cleaning him. 

He's thorough, making sure all of his spend is carefully fingered out. He also uses his blood parasites to make sure he didn't accidentally cause Shizun any damage in his enthusiasm. He was careful with his prep work, going beyond what was strictly necessary in order to make sure Shizun would only know pleasure, but Luo Binghe is large. After a thorough assessment, he's assured that there's no tearing; Shizun will be sore when he wakes, but that's nothing problematic. 

Still. He uses his blood parasites to ease a portion of it. Luo Binghe wants Shizun to only think sweetly of their first time, and that includes waking up from the aftermath. A little soreness is a pleasant reminder, but too much may make him reluctant the next time Luo Binghe wishes to take him to bed.

Once that’s done, he washes Shizun, body and hair alike. He cleans sweat, drool, come, and tears off of him. His thumb swipes against Shizun’s lips, but all the blood Luo Binghe fed him is gone. He fights not to get hard again at the sense memory of Shizun swallowing him down, this time purposefully.

“Ah, Shizun,” Luo Binghe whispers into the unconscious man’s hair. “You really are going to be the death of me.”

Luo Binghe leaves the bath. He dries and redresses Shizun. He lays him out on the divan while he changes the bedsheets, then tucks Shizun into the freshly made bed. He refills the ewer at Shizun’s bedside table, in case he should be thirsty when he wakes.

Luo Binghe will make sure to have a good meal ready for Shizun, too. His ability to use inedia has been fully restored, but Shizun prefers to eat—prefers to eat Luo Binghe’s food, specifically—when it’s on offer. They’ve missed breakfast and likely lunch today, while Shizun only picked at his dinner yesterday. He’s sure to be hungry.

Well, Luo Binghe will be sure to provide for Shizun. Before he does that, though, he needs to talk to certain people.

It’s about time he starts preparations for his final wedding.

Chapter Text

Surprising absolutely no one, their engagement night very much is not the only time Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe have sex. Luo Binghe was quite serious with his offer—every day with variations. And Luo Binghe manages to come up with a great amount of variations.

Agh, Shen Qingqiu’s poor old man hips.

It isn’t all papapa all the time. Just…most of it. Shen Qingqiu will admit to being swept up in it at first; by the time he comes down from the double whammy honeymoon glow of simultaneous relationship-and-engagement and attempts to set limits, Luo Binghe is already thoroughly set in his ways. He is far too good at winding up in Shen Qingqiu’s arms—between Shen Qingqiu’s legs—in Shen Qingqiu’s bed—

Shen Qingqiu, perhaps, doesn’t push back as firmly on this as he could.

Luo Binghe does have some mercy on his shi—on his fian—on Shen Qingqiu, which Shen Qingqiu is deliriously grateful for. They have more of their dates, except now Shen Qingqiu goes into them knowing what they are. For example, they go to the garden again, this time uninterrupted by Sha Hualing! And it isn’t just Luo Binghe’s personal garden they go to, either: they visit others as well, which feature various different biomes representative of the Demon Realm. They have several picnics there and, well, yes, Shen Qingqiu gets stuffed full in a great many other ways, too.

Shen Qingqiu flatly refuses to have sex in the library, not even in the yellow book section. Luo Binghe manages to wheedle his way into sucking Shen Qingqiu’s dick there anyway. Multiple times.

What a menace!

Luo Binghe also begins showing Shen Qingqiu more parts of his Underground Palace than merely the gardens and library. He’s obviously picking and choosing what he shows, but Shen Qingqiu is excited to get to explore! Parts of the palace are clearly abandoned and sealed up; whoever the pavilions and other abandoned quarters used to host are long since gone. Some of those pavilions seem familiar to Shen Qingqiu—probably because he remembers them from later in the novel, when Luo Binghe reopened them and handed them out to various wives as his harem expanded.

Shen Qingqiu isn’t sure who, if anyone, lived there before Luo Binghe’s wives. The web-novel didn’t talk about it; most of the Underground Palace’s discovery and reopening wasn’t mentioned in-text as anything other than ‘and after many weeks of dedicated effort, the Palace was ready for hosting.’ For all Shen Qingqiu knows, these pavilions may well could have been built as an original part of the Underground Palace, yet never occupied until the harem came along! Or they could have had countless generations living inside them! Who knows! Airplane, you fucking hack—

Anyway. Tianlang-Jun was, according to the sparse background Airplane provided in Proud Immortal Demon Way, the last of the Heavenly Demons. Luo Binghe’s mother was from Huan Hua, and it didn’t seem as though her affair with Tianlang-Jun lasted long enough that she would have been granted a pavilion—nor any other quarters—in the Underground Palace.

Luo Binghe’s life may well have turned out quite differently if that had been the case.

On further consideration, the pavilions could have belonged to members of the court from previous generations, Shen Qingqiu supposes. Or perhaps they’re only old relics of a bygone era, leftover from a time when Heavenly Demons were plentiful and ruled the Demon Realm uncontested. At any rate, Luo Binghe doesn't seem to hold much interest in them; Shen Qingqiu really only sees them in passing glimpses along the way to elsewhere in the palace. 

(Even so, something about them niggles at him. He simply can't place what it is. Besides, there's always more distractions that Luo Binghe pushes onto him—or into him—that keep him from worrying himself too much. He's going to marry Luo Binghe; he'll be empress beside him, apparently. He has plenty of time to figure it out later.)

So, plenty of sections of the Underground Palace are abandoned and unused. Plenty of others seem as though they should host members of the Underground Palace, whether the court or even servants, but they’re instead devoid of all life, empty without explanation. Or, no, actually, Shen Qingqiu can guess at the explanation: Luo Binghe is purposefully clearing demons out of their path.

He must warn everyone to stay out of whatever area of the palace he and Shen Qingqiu are going to that day, because there's truly never anyone else around, not even in the spots that logically should hold other demons. It’s not just the hallways, the library, the gardens; it also includes Luo Binghe's throne room or the indoor paddocks that Luo Binghe shows off to him, which are filling steadily with beasts that Luo Binghe has begun sourcing and collecting for Shen Qingqiu, including whichever ones Shen Qingqiu begins requesting to see in person. His own personal menagerie, while he continues working on coaxing Luo Binghe to allow him to leave the palace and go on adventures or night hunts with him.

It makes sense that Luo Binghe remains reluctant to allow this. He must still be solidifying his claim on the Demon Realm. It's like the library, sections of which are still being kept from Shen Qingqiu: he wants to keep Shen Qingqiu safe. 

(Right? Shen Qingqiu asks himself. That's why, isn't it? 

Then he shakes his head at himself. He promised to trust Luo Binghe, and he intends to hold to that. He won't doubt him. 

...That doesn't mean he isn't keeping track of the discrepancies.)

As for inside the Underground Palace itself, Luo Binghe’s need to keep demons away from him takes on its own cast. Shen Qingqiu has the sinking feeling that Luo Binghe’s actions in this case aren’t due to thoughts of Shen Qingqiu’s safety. At least not wholly. Keeping the other demons away from him—it’s because of Shen Qingqiu. Specifically because of what Shen Qingqiu did.

And…the way he did it.

Luo Binghe knows now that pushing him into the Abyss wasn't Shen Qingqiu's choice, that the System made him do that—but the System didn't make Shen Qingqiu spit such hateful words at his disciple. It didn’t make him deride Luo Binghe’s lineage or throw back in his face the earnest question about the theoretical righteousness of demons.

That was all Shen Qingqiu. 

He should have found another way. At the bare minimum, he should have been kinder about it. Given what he knows about Luo Binghe's feelings for him, even back then he probably could have asked Luo Binghe to leave or come up with some kind of excuse that his disciple would believe. Shen Qingqiu’s white lotus trusted his shizun so much. 

And Shen Qingqiu took that trust and shattered it on the ground along with Luo Binghe's glass heart. 

Luo Binghe has managed to patch that fragile heart back together, to find it in himself to forgive Shen Qingqiu, but that heart is even more terribly delicate now than it was before. It's been glued back together in a way that welcomes only Shen Qingqiu, leaving shards facing outwards for everyone else to run up against. 

That's part of why, nearly two weeks since their official relationship began, Shen Qingqiu hasn't pushed Luo Binghe again when it comes to taking him back to Cang Qiong, focusing instead on what they could potentially do here in the Demon Realm. Luo Binghe—ah, his Binghe needs time to heal. Shen Qingqiu promised Luo Binghe two years at minimum. He promised ‘forever’ later, to the man sobbing into his shoulder, terrified of losing him once more, and then he promised his hand in marriage.

Shen Qingqiu chose against Luo Binghe's happiness once. He can't bring himself to do so again. 

So, despite whatever misgivings he might hold, Shen Qingqiu holds himself back on that front.

He does worry, though. To continue keeping Shen Qingqiu so thoroughly sequestered from all inhabitants of the Underground Palace, Luo Binghe must assume that Shen Qingqiu is still prejudiced against demons. Or at least that he prefers not to see them when possible, barring Luo Binghe himself, if the hue and cry he raised after Sha Hualing's brief appearance that day in the garden is any indication. 

In point of fact, Shen Qingqiu is actually quite curious about the denizens of the Demon Realm that Luo Binghe has managed to turn to his side already. Shen Qingqiu is going to rule them someday—sooner rather than later, going by the way Luo Binghe has been measuring him recently and asking his preferences on this and that, obviously all in relation to their wedding—so shouldn't Shen Qingqiu get to know some of them beforehand?

Obviously not, in Luo Binghe's mind.

Shen Qingqiu decides that what they need is a trade. His silly disciple gives him far too much, but when it comes to matters like these, he seems to prefer a certain balance to it. Shen Qingqiu can accommodate that.

He has something Luo Binghe wants, after all.

"Binghe must still have questions," Shen Qingqiu says, idly tracing along Luo Binghe's abs from his position tucked against his former disciple’s side. They've just finished a particularly athletic round of papapa, so Luo Binghe was easily persuaded to allow Shen Qingqiu a moment to catch his breath.

"Mm?" Luo Binghe hums curiously. 

"About," Shen Qingqiu waves vaguely, "me. My life before this." He pauses, then makes himself say, "About Shen Yuan."

Luo Binghe stills besides him. Shen Qingqiu knew he would. After all, this is the last barrier between them. Shen Qingqiu doesn't mean for it to be one, but it is.

Luo Binghe has asked a few probing questions here and there since the System's death, making his obvious interest known, but he's backed off each time Shen Qingqiu has shut that line of questioning down. In the same way, he refrains from using 'A-Yuan' during sex even if he still calls Shen Qingqiu 'Shizun' half the time. 

(‘Wife’ takes up the prominent majority of the other half of the time, with ‘Qingqiu’ as a bare, oft-forgotten afterthought. Like his brief attempt to limit the amount of sex they’re having, Shen Qingqiu quickly gave up trying to persuade Luo Binghe against calling him by that title.

…Like with the sex, he absolutely refuses to admit that he caved too easily. Or that he…maybe…sort of…might…

Enjoy it?)

Shen Qingqiu wishes he could be more open with his to-be husband. He wishes it weren't so difficult to talk about that part of his life. But Shen Qingqiu has never been good at talking about himself. More than that, Shen Qingqiu put Shen Yuan away. He tossed him inside a box, hid that box in the back of his mind, and refused to open it nor even acknowledge its existence. Luo Binghe can attest to that personally, since he's the one who found Shen Yuan locked away inside him.

Shen Qingqiu can't bring himself to peer into that Pandora's box of his own accord, not even for Luo Binghe. He doesn't know what might slip out if he does. But if it's as part of a trade...if it will get Shen Qingqiu more things that he wants...and if he has veto power on the questions asked, in return for allowing Luo Binghe to limit his own parts of this trade...

He thinks he could do it then.

"Shizun shouldn't force himself," Luo Binghe says, voice studiously neutral. 

"But Binghe does want to know," Shen Qingqiu says, seeing right through that neutrality. Luo Binghe wants him, body and soul. He wants all of Shen Qingqiu's attention, all his love and desire, and he wants every scrap of information about Shen Qingqiu that he can get his greedy Protagonist hands on. 

Which obviously includes Shen Yuan. More than being Shen Qingqiu's past, it's information about Shen Qingqiu that no one else in the world knows, which appeals right to Luo Binghe's possessiveness. Even Airplane-bro only knows him as Peerless Cucumber (and now Shen Qingqiu), but an Internet persona is nowhere near close to being the whole of a person. Shen Yuan is—was—so much more than that. 

That's why Shen Qingqiu had to get rid of him.

He'll resurrect Shen Yuan briefly. For Luo Binghe, and for himself.

Hell, maybe it can be some kind of catharsis.

He just hopes he doesn’t come to regret it.

"I do want something in return," Shen Qingqiu says, when Luo Binghe doesn’t immediately begin asking him questions, obviously having suspected the possibility of terms.

"What does Shizun want?" Luo Binghe asks cautiously, too clever to promise anything before Shen Qingqiu states his full terms. 

"Introduce me to your servants, your staff, somebody,” Shen Qingqiu says. "You've shown me the palace, but I've not met a single other inhabitant!"

"Shizun doesn't need anyone other than me," Luo Binghe says rather sulkily. 

Shen Qingqiu rolls his eyes. "For heaven's sake, you silly man, it's not as though I'll abandon you to go flirt with your cooks or generals!" He softens his voice as he says, "I promised myself to you, Binghe. But you're the one who wants me to rule beside you. How can I do that if you never let me help, nor even meet any of those you wish me to rule?"

"...Shizun makes a valid argument," Luo Binghe says reluctantly. Shen Qingqiu isn't sure if it was the argument itself or Luo Binghe's hunger for all things to do with Shen Qingqiu that tipped him over the edge. Either way, it seems as though Shen Qingqiu will be getting what he wants. This is only further confirmed when Luo Binghe continues, saying, "This Binghe will arrange for Shizun to meet some of the kitchen staff first. They can be trusted to treat Shizun with the proper respect and deference.”

Victory is sweet.

Shen Qingqiu gets only a moment to bask in the light of success before Luo Binghe is rolling atop him, straddling his hips. 

"Shizun has to answer some of my questions first, though!" he says in a sing-song voice. 

Yes, that was the bargain. Shen Qingqiu isn't surprised to find that Luo Binghe wants to make good on Shen Qingqiu's side of it before upholding his own. 

“What does Binghe wish to know?” Shen Qingqiu asks, gazing up at him. A small smile makes its way onto his face. His Binghe is so cute like this.

“Everything,” Luo Binghe says predictably. “But to start with…”

Luo Binghe clings to every bit of information Shizun gives to him.

He begins slowly, with easy questions that don’t take much effort for Shizun to answer. It’s a necessity, with how deep Shizun’s discomfort runs when it comes to his old life. They’ll have to build their way up to more complex questions.

That’s fine. All the information he draws from Shizun—all the little facets of his old personality Luo Binghe uncovers, the thoughts and opinions and preferences—inform who Shizun is now. It sets him further apart from Shen Qingqiu in Luo Binghe’s mind, but more than that, it gives him an insight into Shizun that no one else has.

This side of Shizun belongs solely to his husband.

He steers clear of questions about transmigration or anything else strongly related to that dream where they killed the System. Shizun can remember that—or not—in his own time, and until then, Luo Binghe doesn’t wish to muddy the waters. He also quickly learns not to ask questions about Shizun’s family: he had a mother, father, two older brothers, and a younger sister. That’s all Shizun manages to tell him before his voice fails him and Luo Binghe takes it as a sign to segue into a different, lighter question.

He understands how hard it is to lose family, even though technically, Shizun’s family are the ones who lost him. Shizun still wears Luo Binghe’s Guanyin pendant around his neck; in the midst of Luo Binghe’s grief for his mother, at least he had that reminder of her. Shizun didn’t have even that much. It’s no wonder he refused to think about his grief. How could he begin to explain it to others?

Ah, his poor Shizun.

On another day, Luo Binghe prods carefully at the prospect of any others Shizun might miss from his life as Shen Yuan. Gratifyingly, this seems to be an easier topic for Shizun. Luo Binghe asks about it all: friendships, relationships, potential competition—

“What competition, you little vinegar pot?” Shizun asks, flicking at Luo Binghe’s forehead. “I kissed a few girls when I was a teenager, that’s it.” He pinkens somewhat at this confession, but his heart rate remains steady. Luo Binghe can’t help but ravage him in light of that, just to make sure those girls are knocked right out of Shizun’s memory again.

For the most part, though, Luo Binghe does his best to focus on small, simple questions. Each one eases Shizun’s tension a fraction more, like the most infinitesimal unfurling of a flower’s bud. Someday Luo Binghe will be able to see the whole of it, to admire it, to take pride in the fact that he is the one patiently coaxed it into blooming—but lovely as that ‘flower’ is, it’s only one part of the whole garden which makes up Shizun.

If it takes a hundred years to understand all of Shen Yuan—if it never happens—then that doesn’t matter. He has Shizun.

And Shizun…

Shizun gives him trickles of information, bartered away so that he might see some few of Luo Binghe’s subjects. Soon to Shizun’s subjects as well, which was a valid point made. Luo Binghe does want Shizun’s help. He wants Shizun to be Empress in truth.

Beyond that, Shizun needs some baseline interaction with others. However much he laughed off Luo Binghe’s question about relationships in his past life, he knows what he’s seen in Shizun’s memories. In the same way that Shizun couldn’t stand to be confined to one room, Luo Binghe must allow Shizun these freedoms, too, however much it grates on his sensibilities.

He can turn this all to his advantage. He’s planning, in the next few days, to pick carefully from his correspondence and current (written) petitions so that he can offer some few of them to Shizun. Now that he knows of Shizun’s familiarity with the legends surrounding him, he’ll have to be doubly careful not to slip up by giving him information that would outright give up how far Shizun is removed from his own world. He can, perhaps, leave hints among them, though.

He can also use the introductions Shizun bartered from him to begin easing Shizun into the knowledge that this is not the world Luo Binghe took him from. Let Shizun put the pieces together himself, let him reach his own conclusions—

Luo Binghe isn’t certain if that will blunt Shizun’s rage at his deception or make it even worse, but at least Luo Binghe will be able to truthfully say that he was working his way up to telling him. Very slowly, and with the full intent that Shizun should figure it out on his own, but working toward it nevertheless.

He will also be able to use that as further proof of his own reluctance to lie to Shizun. He’s been as honest as possible this whole time! He may have obscured his identity to some small extent, but that was all through misdirection and Shizun’s assumptions and—and—

Luo Binghe won’t be able to bear it if this goes wrong and Shizun fails to forgive him.

(At least he told Shen Yuan the whole truth back then.)

No. Luo Binghe will have to confess to Shizun at some point. Even if he hasn’t finished piecing together all of the puzzle on his own.

There’s simply no way forward for them without confessing.

…After the wedding, Luo Binghe resolves. If he hasn’t figured it out by then—I’ll tell him.

Shizun will be bound to him by marriage then. Shizun has made his own oaths to Luo Binghe already, though they’re not as binding as their full, court-formal marriage will be. If Luo Binghe swears oaths of his own to him—if he makes that marriage more binding than any he had with his previous wives—if Luo Binghe changes his own side of their wedding oaths, so that it’s proof of his sincerity and devotion—will that be enough to tip the scales in his favor?

Shizun can’t be Luo Binghe’s empress if his entire understanding of the world around him is crippled. If he doesn’t understand there are three combined realms he is ruling, all of them intersecting, with all their various issues tossed together. If he never has the opportunity to truly take part in Luo Binghe’s court, which would necessitate him meeting people who he would know don’t belong in the place or time he believes himself to be.

Luo Binghe’s selfishness, his desire to keep Shizun to himself, is just barely edged out by his desire to flaunt Shizun—and to have Shizun, as he told the man himself, with him at all times, helping him in all things, domestic and courtly alike.

For now, Luo Binghe will continue getting away with all that he can. He will enjoy these comparatively uncomplicated times with Shizun.

The meeting with several members of the kitchen staff goes well. They’ve been warned not to speak too freely—and Luo Binghe keeps an ear out in case they start venturing into dangerous territory regarding their homelands and how they’ve changed since the Three Realms were combined—but no one makes any mistakes. They’re deferential when speaking to Shizun, as is appropriate.

Given that success, Luo Binghe carefully selects other members of his staff, ones who shouldn’t raise any suspicions: the toddering librarian who must have been ancient before Tianlang-Jun even began his reign, who simply appeared one day in the library (or perhaps never left in the first place. Luo Binghe has been a bit afraid to ask); no few of the messengers he keeps in his service and who Shizun will someday be able to make use of himself; his head steward, who has the ability to duplicate himself and therefore is always in several places at once, each separate body controlled by the main mind (though his steward’s constant divided attention does mean that even on the best of days, the steward barely bothers holding any kind of conversation that doesn’t have to do with running the Underground Palace’s massive staff).

As for his court—Luo Binghe decides to keep Shizun away from them for a while longer. They’re annoying.

He does introduce Shizun to Mobei-Jun, who can at least be trusted not to be similarly annoying or spill any secrets. Shizun greets him politely. His gaze flicks behind Mobei-Jun, as though searching for someone. Luo Binghe tries to think if there’s anyone who might have made it into the legends as his general’s—

Ah. Hm. Shizun knows about that traitor Shang Qinghua and his work with Mobei-Jun from the legends, and probably also personal experience, doesn’t he? Luo Binghe didn’t look into Shizun’s memories after the Abyss, though he knows the original kind Shizun had some kind of fleeting friendship with the man. That friendship must have begun fairly recently for Shizun.

Fortunately, Mobei-Jun cuts short the conversation (such as it is) before Luo Binghe has to or Shizun can ask any unfortunate questions about that long-dead spy. A portal snaps open behind Mobei-Jun and he leaves.

“Not much of one for conversations, is he?” Shizun asks idly, today’s fan waving slowly in front of his face.

“No,” Luo Binghe says. “But he’s useful in other ways.”

“I’ve no doubt,” Shizun murmurs.

Between all the introductions, the preparations for the wedding (still several weeks away), the outings Luo Binghe takes Shizun on through the palace, the work as Emperor even Luo Binghe can’t escape entirely (even when he conscripts Shizun for tiny portions of it), the steady investigation into Shen Yuan’s life, and the sex Luo Binghe always manages to find time for, the two of them are quite busy.

Yet there is still one matter that nags at Luo Binghe. One question that he hasn’t found his answer to.

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe says one night. Shizun, lying atop Luo Binghe, tenses warily, obviously expecting this to be another question about his life as Shen Yuan even though Luo Binghe swore he was done with questions for this night.

That’s not what Luo Binghe is aiming for here. Probably.

It’s possible that he’s wrong, of course: he still doesn’t know what’s in those buried memories, and that bothers him.

“What?” Shizun asks, crossing his arms over Luo Binghe’s chest and resting his chin on them. The long fall of his hair sticks against his temples with the sweat of his recent exertions before trailing down his back.

“When I was investigating Shizun’s dreamscape,” Luo Binghe says, thumb rubbing against Shizun’s hip idly, “there were two disparities.”

Shizun frowns. “The System lock was one,” he says, thinking it through. “What was the other?”

“I don’t know,” Luo Binghe says. “I was hoping Shizun might have a guess.”

“Maybe,” Shizun says. “Tell me more? What do you mean when you call it a disparity?”

Luo Binghe considers the last time he’d felt it, trying his best to translate it into words instead of the instrinsic understanding he had of it inside the dream. “It felt like a sword in a sheath. You know it’s there, you can probably feel the energy of it, but you’ve no idea what the sword looks like.” He shakes his head. “Or…maybe more like Zheng Yang’s shards at the sword mound. I could feel them calling to me, but I couldn’t see them myself. They’re memories, but buried and—” He casts his memory back, hunting down every sensation he felt when investing those memories from a distance. “—cracked.” He made the comparison to Zheng Yang for a reason. “They’re not locked away like what the System did to you, but…they’re deep down in the recesses of the unconsciousness.”

Shizun’s frown deepens. “Have you seen such a thing before?”

“Similar,” Luo Binghe admits. “At first, I assumed those memories were buried because of your qi deviation. On reflection, they felt more like when people have purposefully—or accidentally—blocked themselves off from memories. Traumatic ones, usually, whether that be mentally or physically.”

Shizun’s breath catches only momentarily. “I can’t imagine what it must be, then,” he says, nearly managing to play it off. He scoffs as he continues, “Being poisoned by Without-A-Cure was about as bad as it got, but that’s hardly worth being called ‘traumatic.’ I don’t have any missing memories.”

“Shizun is hiding something,” Luo Binghe says.

Shizun sits up. He swings a leg over Luo Binghe so that he can slide off the bed, his hair the only covering he wears.

“I’m going to take a bath,” he says.

Luo Binghe wraps his arms around Shizun’s stomach from behind, stopping him from leaving. His head rests between Shizun’s shoulder blades.

“Even if it was Without-A-Cure,” Luo Binghe says, though he’s certain it isn’t, having seen those memories in Shizun’s mind already, “does Shizun think I would look down on him for that? Or for anything else?” Or for anything at all? Ever? Trauma affects people in all different sorts of ways. He would never hold any of it against Shizun.

Shizun takes a breath. Another. “The only thing I can imagine might be there is…” His throat clicks as he swallows. “Is my death.”

Luo Binghe’s hold tightens around Shizun. Shen Yuan told him that transmigration happened upon the death of the transmigrator. Therefore, he knows Shizun died once, in order to get here. It doesn’t make it any easier to think about that.

“I remember…most of it,” Shizun says distantly. “What happened, and all that, I just don’t…remember the exact moment of…”

That’s enough. Luo Binghe spins Shizun around so that he can gather him up in his arms, drawing him back onto the bed in the process. Shizun shivers, obviously struck by the mere prospect of attempting to recall the details of his own death.

Luo Binghe has trod on the very edge of death over the course of his life, pulled back from it by virtue of his lineage. The experiences have never been what one might call pleasant.

To sink all the way down into it—then to wake up afterwards, a frightened ghost in an unfamiliar body, bound by a monster that forced compliance—no, he understands why Shizun so deeply fears any reminder of that.

“I assumed that was one of the memories Binghe was never supposed to see,” Shizun whispers. “One of the ones that the System locked away. But if it isn’t—Binghe, I don’t want to see that. I don’t want you to, either.”

“I understand, Shizun,” Luo Binghe says. “For what it’s worth, I don’t want to see that either. Does Shizun mind if we examine those buried memories anyway?”

Shizun is silent for a long time, slowly calming in his hold, considering the question.

“…Why?” he asks.

“When searching for the System—or whatever was interfering with your mind, because I wasn’t sure then what it was—I wondered if it might be hiding there, or if there were clues to its presence there.” Luo Binghe sighs. “Obviously the System was locked away with Shen Yuan, but I worry there are dangers unaddressed. If nothing else, by looking at those memories we can properly contain them and keep them from causing problems later.”

“I don’t know…” Shizun says.

“If it’s—what Shizun fears, all he has to do is warn me and I’ll disperse the memory. I’ll destroy it entirely, if Shizun wants, without looking at it,” Luo Binghe promises.

Shizun exhales heavily, his breath a warm puff of air against Luo Binghe’s collarbone. “All right,” he concedes. “If only to make sure it isn’t another of the System’s traps.”

It isn’t.

When they dive into Shizun’s dreamscape, the very first memory they unearth lays the mystery to rest. A tiny, dirty child, his arms bound behind his back with hempen rope, glares up at them. The same child Luo Binghe saw when he first tried to watch Shizun’s memory of that day at the Abyss.

This is a tiny version of Shen Qingqiu. Shen Jiu.

These memories aren’t Shizun’s at all.

They’re his.

Shen Qingqiu really isn’t sure what he was expecting when he and Luo Binghe dove into these buried memories in his mind. He certainly wasn’t expecting them to not even belong to him!

No, instead they belong to the Original Goods.

Nearly as soon as he recognizes what’s going on, Luo Binghe uses his dream powers to freeze the memory, then starts forward as though to disperse it, just as he’d promised to do—

Shen Qingqiu holds out a quelling hand. Luo Binghe halts obediently. Shen Qingqiu’s mind races.

The Original Goods didn’t leave behind only muscle memory. When he died, he left bits of himself behind, too. Bits of his past, answers to so very many of the questions people (cough cough, Peerless Cucumber) had raised on the forums about him, especially his relationship with Yue Qingyuan. Shen Qingqiu isn’t sure if those answers are all here, but it’s entirely possible.

On the other hand, he’s currently here with Luo Binghe. Shen Qingqiu…isn’t totally sure if he should allow Luo Binghe to watch these memories. Not that he himself has any more right to see them, since he’s the one who stole Shen Qingqiu’s body in the first place, but…

Ah, why does this have to be a dilemma?!

In the end, Luo Binghe was right that they need to make sure there aren’t any surprises in these memories. They need to make sure the System didn’t hide anything in the last remnants of the Original Goods.

And maybe, just maybe, even if the Original Goods is gone, there is something here that he can use for Yue Qingyuan’s sake. He has no idea what, or if these memories will even feature Yue Qingyuan at all, but Shen Qingqiu knows he and the Original Goods had some kind of a mysterious past together. If there’s any possibility Shen Qingqiu can grant Yue Qingyuan peace after relying on his friendship for so long, shouldn’t he take the chance…?

Once that’s done, they can put these memories aside properly. One last—or first—burial for the Original Goods.

“I want to see them,” Shen Qingqiu says.

“But Shizun!” Luo Binghe protests.

“I stole his life, his cultivation, his sect, his—relationships, whatever few he had,” Shen Qingqiu says. “I can at least set his memories properly to rest.”

“He wouldn’t thank you for it,” Luo Binghe mutters.

“No, I don’t think he would,” Shen Qingqiu says wryly.

“Shizun shouldn’t have to!” Luo Binghe says. “Shizun should allow this disciple to—”

“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says. “Please.”

Luo Binghe scowls. Glares at the kid version of the Original Goods kneeling before them, at just the right angle to make it seem like he’s glaring right back at Luo Binghe with hate-filled eyes. Luo Binghe waves his hand, and the scene jerks to life.

Shen Qingqiu quickly takes in the room around them while they wait for something to happen. It’s—quite nice, actually. It’s lavishly furnished and decorated, a study and private quarters combined into one, connected by a sandalwood moon gate in the middle of the room. If this is the Original Goods, and if he’s in such wealthy surroundings, then doesn’t that mean…this is the Qiu household?

During the web-novel’s trial, Qiu Haitang swore that her family freed the Original Goods. That they treated him well, raising him like one of their own, until he went mad and killed them all.

Looking at the Original Goods now, Shen Qingqiu isn’t sure how this is meant to represent a child who was ‘treated well’.

The outside door to these quarters opens. A well-dressed youth steps inside, looking disdainfully down at the Original Goods.

“Qiu Jianluo,” Shen Qingqiu mutters to himself. It must be.

The scene unfolds before them, Qiu Jianluo mocking the child he bought, then quickly hiding his bullying of him as soon as his sister enters the room. It’s no wonder the Original Goods grew up to be so two-faced, when people like this were his role models!

Luo Binghe lets out a strange, quiet noise, then says, “Apologies, Shizun, the memory is—”

Mid-scene, the study and room plunge into darkness. The Qiu siblings disappear without a trace.

“—damaged,” Luo Binghe finishes.

Shen Qingqiu nods to show his understanding. “Thank you for the warning. Please do your best with what remains,” he says.

“Mn.” Luo Binghe’s gaze is fixed on the boy lying in the center of the room, bruised and bloodied even further than he was in that first memory. Moonlight filters dimly into the room, before there’s a sudden knocking on the door.

“Xiao Jiu,” a voice hisses from the other side. “Xiao Jiu!”

The Original Goods—Shen Jiu—jerks upright. Painful hope lights his face and he rushes to the door, calling in return, “Qi-ge!”

Oh, Shen Qingqiu thinks.

Of course there would be other children. If Shen Jiu was the ninth child in the slavers’ ring, then there had to be. It seems Shen Jiu latched onto one of them.

Shen Qingqiu watches this pitiful scene in silence. He watches as Qi-ge promises to return, as Shen Jiu hisses and spits and orders him not to forget that promise. He watches as silence falls between the two of them, and then Shen Jiu speaks again.

“Did you leave already?”

“Not yet,” Qi-ge says. “I was waiting for you to speak.”

The two boys peer at each other through the crack in the door. Possessed by curiosity, Shen Qingqiu peeks through, too. He flinches back at the sight, the way the other boy’s face swirls away into a headache-inducing nothingness—

“A moment,” Luo Binghe says. “I think I can…there. Try again.”

Shen Qingqiu leans forward. Qi-ge’s face comes into focus. Instead of some strange mosaic, all the proper parts of him settle back into place: eyes and nose and affable, albeit wobbly, smile.

Shen Qingqiu was able to recognize the Original Goods in Shen Jiu. It’s even easier to recognize this boy on the other side of the door.

“Zhangmen…shixiong?”

Shen Qingqiu steps back. Yue Qingyuan was—and they—but he promised to come back! Yue Qingyuan would have—but obviously he didn’t, which doesn’t make any sense—

Except for how it does. In the kind of story that Airplane wrote, with the number of flags that Yue Qingyuan raised before leaving, it made far too much sense. Yue Qingyuan must have had a reason, but the readers never knew about this, so they likewise don’t know the reason why he didn’t come back.

The Original Goods certainly never did.

All the anger he showed toward Yue Qingyuan in the web-novel—was it because of this obviously broken promise, right here and now?

Still in that stunned silence, Shen Qingqiu watches the next memory unfold: Qiu Jianluo digging his own grave; Shen Jiu finally snapping under the pressure and grabbing a sword from the wall; his brutal massacre; the burning of the manor, Qiu Haitang safely dropped to the ground well out of range of the flames; the approach of Wu Yanzi.

“Who are you waiting for?” Wu Yanzi asks.

Shen Jiu turns away from this question, staring at the blazing manor before him. A single trail of white appears on his soot-stained cheek.

“No more waiting,” he says.

Shixiong, Shen Qingqiu thinks. Shixiong, Zhangmen-shixiong, what happened? Why didn’t you come back?

“The next few memories aren’t in very good condition,” Luo Binghe warns. His brow is furrowed, his hands held out in front of him as though he’s pulling at the strings of some massive instrument—or, perhaps more accurately, weaving together the threads of an unraveling tapestry.

Luo Binghe is right to give a warning.

There’s a whirl, a forest—Jue Di Gorge—and Shen Jiu and Yue Qingyuan stand across from each other. Yue Qingyuan is Yue Qingyuan now, dressed in Qiong Ding’s blacks, with Xuan Su across his back. Shen Jiu, on the other hand, is dressed in traveler’s clothes of middling quality. A sword is held in one hand; it drips red down onto the earth.

“Why aren’t you saying anything? I’m still waiting. I’ve already waited so many years. Waiting a little longer will be nothing,” Shen Jiu says.

Pale and stricken, Yue Qingyuan opens his mouth. Closes it again. Finally says, “Sorry. It’s Qi-ge who let you down.”

Another whirl, and Shen Jiu is dressed in Qing Jing’s uniform. He’s flat on his back in the dirt of a training field, a teenage Liu Qingge standing over him.

“I’ll kill you!” Shen Jiu screams at him.

Another whirl, and they’re standing in the streets of a town. It looks like the one near the base of Cang Qiong. Shen Jiu and Yue Qingyuan look a few years older now, though Shen Jiu is in a furious snit as he stalks away from his shixiong.

“Why did you go to Qing Jing Peak? Didn’t I tell you not to come looking for me?” Shen Jiu snaps.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing,” Yue Qingyuan says.

Another whirl, and the memory stabilizes as the past few didn’t. Shen Qingqiu…recognizes this memory. Or, more accurately, he recognizes the distant figure kneeling in the dirt, digging hard as he works to gain entrance to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. The Peak Lords stand upon the cliff overlooking them. Shen Qingqiu has done this himself on several occasions; he worried at the prospect of taking new disciples, given what the future held for the sect, but took them onto his peak nevertheless.

Ah, Liu-shidi, Shen Qingqiu thinks as he and the Original Goods needle each other. He wonders what the world would have looked like if Luo Binghe ended up on Bai Zhan instead: Liu Qingge saw Luo Binghe’s boundless potential, after all.

Of course, the fact that he noticed is half of what drew the Original Goods’ attention to him. That, and Ning Yingying’s demand for a new martial sibling.

Luo Binghe is chosen for Qing Jing Peak.

A stone settles heavily in Shen Qingqiu’s stomach. He follows Luo Binghe and the Original Goods to the bamboo house. He kneels next to his disciple as the Original Goods begins interviewing him, asking why he wants to be a cultivator, asking—asking about his mother.

“Indeed, you’re at the best age for cultivating,” the Original Goods says. Envy is splashed all across his face, in the twitch of his brow and the downward turn of his lips.

Shen Qingqiu shifts sideways, trying to shield Luo Binghe behind him. It’s useless, of course. All Shen Qingqiu can do is watch helplessly as the tea lands on Luo Binghe’s head. It drips down his stunned face.

The Original Goods and Ming Fan leave. Luo Binghe remains kneeling there, as ordered. Slowly, tears begin dripping down his face.

Shen Qingqiu’s heart is breaking in his chest.

“Don’t cry. Oh, please don’t cry,” Shen Qingqiu whispers. He reaches out, but just as he was unable to shield Luo Binghe, so too is he unable to comfort him. “Shizun won’t ever hurt you again.” Shen Qingqiu wishes so desperately that he could hold Luo Binghe, that he could wipe the tears from his face, that Luo Binghe could hear the words he speaks. “Shizun promises.”

In defiance of the memory and the way Shen Qingqiu hasn’t been able to interfere this whole time, Luo Binghe’s starlit eyes meet him. “Shizun promises?” he parrots, voice wavering disastrously.

“Yes,” Shen Qingqiu swears. “Yes, Binghe, Shizun promises, yes. It will never happen again.” The Abyss was the most hurt he could bear to bestow upon Luo Binghe; if he ever tries to hurt Luo Binghe again—well. He won’t be capable of it, it’s as simple as that.

With a quiet whimper, Luo Binghe throws himself at Shen Qingqiu. He buries his face in Shen Qingqiu’s stomach, shoulders and back heaving with the force of his sobs. Shen Qingqiu pets at his hair, folding him into the security of his long sleeves. Even having seen so many of his memories, Shen Qingqiu doesn’t understand how the Original Goods could have ever hurt this child.

Shen Qingqiu holds his Binghe, stroking along his head and back, and waits.

Luo Binghe’s crying slowly peters off. He’s so small. He worked so hard to get here. Not even the great emotion contained within him can keep him awake, especially not when it takes so much energy from him to express it. He falls asleep right there in Shen Qingqiu’s lap.

It’s only when he dissolves back into dream-stuff that Shen Qingqiu remembers he wasn’t real.

He looks behind himself. The real Luo Binghe leans against the wall there, arms crossed over his chest, a complicated expression on his face.

Shen Qingqiu climbs stiffly to his feet. He wasn’t sitting there for long, though it feels as if it lasted a lifetime. He walks over to Luo Binghe and copies the man’s younger self, pulling apart Luo Binghe’s arms so Shen Qingqiu can burrow his way into his hold.

“Thank you,” Shen Qingqiu says. For showing me the memories, for staying with me, for allowing me to help that poor child, even though I wasn’t here to do it when it truly mattered…

“There’s no need for thanks between us,” Luo Binghe says.

“I know,” Shen Qingqiu says. “But thank you anyway.”

This last of the Original Goods’ memories dissolve around them. Luo Binghe must be doing as he promised, boxing them away where they can’t leak into Shen Qingqiu’s thoughts or dreams. It’s better that they did this now, instead of having it thrown at him later under different circumstances. Likely worse ones, knowing his luck. 

Even with that reassuring thought, these memories were still…a lot.

Shen Qingqiu stays there, hiding in the stronghold that is Luo Binghe’s arms, until Luo Binghe folds the both of them down into deeper, more pleasant dreams of their own.

Chapter Text

Shen Qingqiu still feels strangely discomfited when he wakes the next morning. Not unsurprising, he supposes. 

Luo Binghe attempts to distract him over the course of the day, though not with anything too serious nor even too intimate. Shen Qingqiu rejects a few of those attempted distractions outright, and Luo Binghe backs off when he does, but Shen Qingqiu certainly doesn't turn down Luo Binghe's company. He even follows Luo Binghe to the kitchen where he prepares their dinner, a practice of Shen Qingqiu's that has become common since their official engagement. 

Shen Qingqiu sits at a table in the kitchen and steadily drinks his way through the pot of tea Luo Binghe made for him, allowing the calm, repetitive, soothing sounds of Luo Binghe chopping or stirring or otherwise multitasking with his cooking to wash over him. 

Privately, Shen Qingqiu is rather sure that Luo Binghe is caught up in thoughts of his own during the day. He saw those memories just as surely as Shen Qingqiu did, and he's the one who had live through some of them. They had real, tangible consequences on his own life. 

What they learned in those memories—it doesn't excuse the Original Goods. Shen Jiu grew up to hurt Luo Binghe so terribly, in so many different ways. Ways that Shen Qingqiu did his best to mitigate or fix long after the fact, and Shen Qingqiu can't forgive Shen Jiu for that—

But nor can he ignore the stirrings of sympathy he feels for him. 

It was so much easier to hate him when all he was was scum. 

His heart aches for Yue Qingyuan. He would never have made the choice to willingly abandon Shen Jiu in that place. His promise was so fervent; every one of his actions around Shen Qingqiu speaks of his care toward the Original Goods, undimmed by the passing of the years; his favoritism is always present, in ways that Shen Qingqiu has, admittedly, taken advantage on occasion. And the Yue Qingyuan in the novel...hadn't he walked to his death, just for the chance to save the Original Goods? 

Shen Qingqiu closes his eyes with a heavy sigh.

No. Something must have happened back then. Yue Qingyuan always comes after his Xiao Jiu. 

...That doesn't speak particularly favorably of what will happen once Cang Qiong finally figures out where Shen Qingqiu is. 

Luo Binghe won’t give him up and Shen Qingqiu already promised he would stay. It will be Shen Qingqiu’s duty to make Cang Qiong stand down once they come for him.

(Why haven’t they come for him already? It’s been two and a half months now. Shen Qingqiu is no longer kept entirely in his rooms. He’s met members of the household and a very few members of the court. Even if Luo Binghe placed a moratorium on gossip, surely it wouldn’t have been entirely successful. People are people, whether they’re human or demon.

Surely rumors have spread past the bounds of the Underground Palace.

So why…?

Shen Qingqiu tries to tuck that confusion and, yes, worry away. He isn’t entirely successful.)

At least Shen Qingqiu managed to wrest that promise from Luo Binghe. He said he won’t kill any of his martial family—but if they provoke him too severely, who’s to say what might happen?

All Luo Binghe promised is that he would try.

Ah, this is stressful.

Shen Qingqiu’s best bet here really is damage control, whenever this comes to a head. Both sides will be willing to listen to him, right? Right?

…Hopefully his sect won’t be too mad at him for his unexpected (and certainly unannounced!) two year sabbatical. Assuming it takes them that long to catch on—and assuming he’s able to return after two years. Surely that will be enough time to wear Luo Binghe down on the matter, if his martial siblings don’t confront Luo Binghe first.

Neither he nor Luo Binghe are particularly in the mood for papapa that night, the whole day thrown off-kilter by the revelations made the previous night. For once, Shen Qingqiu is the one holding Luo Binghe against him, tucking Luo Binghe’s fluffy head beneath his chin and holding him safe and protected.

“Shizun shouldn’t take it all so seriously,” Luo Binghe murmurs.

“Maybe,” Shen Qingqiu agrees. “How is Binghe taking it?”

“Fine,” Luo Binghe says. There is a thread of uncertainty in the word.

“If Binghe says so,” Shen Qingqiu says. If Binghe doesn’t want to talk about it, then Shen Qingqiu doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable. It would be pressing on a tender bruise for his Binghe, one that isn’t capable of being healed with a Heavenly Demon’s usual speed. Let Luo Binghe come to him later if he decides he wants to talk.

“I don’t regret his death,” Luo Binghe says stubbornly.

Shen Qingqiu sighs. “That’s fine,” he says. He means it, he does, but…not in the same uncomplicated way he always had before.

Luo Binghe’s head tilts against his chest, ear pressing flat against Shen Qingqiu in the way that tells him Luo Binghe is listening to his heartbeat. As if he doesn’t know every beat it takes through his blood parasites, ah!

“Why wouldn’t he…why did I…” Luo Binghe can’t seem to complete a thought.

“It isn’t your fault, Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says. “It’s nothing that you did. It was never you.” He presses a kiss to the top of Luo Binghe’s head.

The Original Goods was petty and cruel and jealous and hurt and damaged. He’d taken it out against the rest of the world. He took it out on Binghe, who never deserved it. There’s probably commentary there about cycles of violence and abuse or even the cyclical nature of trauma. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t know.

He doesn’t forgive the Original Goods for his crimes. Nor should Luo Binghe have to. Shen Qingqiu understands entirely why this backstory never made it into the main narrative, no matter whether Airplane lost his original outline or not. As a reader, it would be one thing, but knowing this was something the Original Goods actually lived through…

That Yue Qingyuan lived through, too. It was a personal history that had such an impact on the world at large—such an impact on Luo Binghe.

This is all so much more complicated when it’s…real people.

Which makes Shen Qingqiu realize that there is something he’s been avoiding discussing with Luo Binghe. He has no idea what all Shen Yuan told Luo Binghe—those memories have yet to return to him, not that Shen Qingqiu has done much to try and recall them—nor does he have any idea what Luo Binghe may have inferred with his big Protagonist brain. Thus far all Luo Binghe’s questions have neatly avoided what it means to be a transmigrator. Shen Qingqiu isn’t sure Luo Binghe even knows the word.

For all Shen Qingqiu knows, Luo Binghe assumes Shen Qingqiu is a soul from this world, newly dead and dropped into Shen Qingqiu’s body by a capricious not-quite-god. That’s unlikely, given it wouldn’t explain the way Shen Yuan appeared to him—Shen Qingqiu hasn’t forgotten those comments Luo Binghe made about how Shen Yuan was dressed, or the length of his hair!—but Luo Binghe hasn’t followed up on that. Nor has he questioned why Shen Qingqiu knows so much about him, though surely he must have suspicions.

Answering Luo Binghe’s questions has, at least in part, desensitized Shen Qingqiu to the prospect of talking in-depth about that part of his life. He thinks…he’s ready to tell Luo Binghe more.

“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says the next morning when they wake up. Luo Binghe has yet to leave the bed to make their breakfast, seemingly content to let Shen Qingqiu use him as a pillow and wake at his own pace.

Luo Binghe makes a questioning noise.

“You’ve asked me all these questions about my family and my life,” Shen Qingqiu says. He doesn’t dare sit up to have this conversation; it’s an extreme effort of will to say this at all, made better only by practice and by the fact that Shen Qingqiu doesn’t have to look Luo Binghe in the face as he says it. “But you haven’t…but you…I…”

Why the fuck is this so hard? Luo Binghe knows about the System! He knows that Shen Qingqiu isn’t the Original Goods! He met Shen Yuan!

And Luo Binghe has never, not once, suggested visiting Shen Qingqiu’s original family. He’s pressed so little about them, reading the way Shen Qingqiu can barely even speak of them, but the obvious solution to that—it’s never come up.

Now, that very well could be justified by how possessive Luo Binghe is of him. If he won’t allow Shen Qingqiu to return to his martial family on Cang Qiong, then why on earth would he be any more forthcoming in regards to Shen Qingqiu’s original family?

Except he hasn’t asked if Shen Qingqiu visited them either, even from a distance. Luo Binghe knows that he died, that that’s how Shen Qingqiu ended up inside this body. Even so, even if he could never reveal himself as ‘Shen Yuan,’ wouldn’t he watch over his family? Wouldn’t he do something? The System couldn’t control him to that extent, right?

Luo Binghe hasn’t asked.

“What did Shen Yuan tell you…about how I ended up in Shen Qingqiu’s body?” Shen Qingqiu asks him now.

“Shizun wants to know if he told me about transmigration,” Luo Binghe says.

Clever boy.

“So he did,” Shen Qingqiu says, quietly relieved. That’s one issue he doesn’t have to tackle, one definition he presumably needn’t explain. “How many…details…did he give you?”

There is a long silence before Luo Binghe says, “A-Yuan didn’t remember being Shizun.”

This makes Shen Qingqiu sit up. “Wait, really?” Yet even as he asks that, it doesn’t seem terribly shocking. That part of his mind was pulled away from him because of the System and Shen Qingqiu himself, so why would it have remembered any of his life here in Proud Immortal Demon Way?

Luo Binghe sits up, too. “Yes.”

“But you told him he—I—was Shen Qingqiu?” Shen Qingqiu asks. Is that what led to the discussion of transmigration? Oh, Shen Qingqiu can just imagine how Shen Yuan would have reacted to that little tidbit.

“No,” Luo Binghe says. Amusement suffuses his tone. “I said…a few things to him, then allowed him to make his own assumptions.” His gaze searches Shen Qingqiu’s, likely wondering how in-depth he should go regarding that, before he continues with, “I asked follow-up questions where relevant.”

Shen Qingqiu nods slowly. Luo Binghe gave him the barebones of what happened inside that dream, but only the barebones. Largely because of how Shen Qingqiu reacted when it came to Shen Yuan. Shen Qingqiu hadn’t asked any further questions.

Maybe he should spend time meditating. It should help him recover memories of what happened then. Or he could ask Luo Binghe to simply show him, like he showed him the Original Goods’ memories, but Shen Qingqiu is supposed to be the immortal master in this relationship. Surely he can try to handle this on his own before coming to Luo Binghe about it?

Plus, he really doesn’t want Luo Binghe prying into that part of himself again. That’s why they’ve been talking about Shen Yuan the way they have. In a way, it would be easier and quicker to give Luo Binghe access to all those memories rather than continue their long, slow game of twenty questions, but Shen Qingqiu would rather scrape off his own skin than do such a thing. With their game, he gets to pick and choose what he answers; he can’t bear the thought of laying himself so openly out in front of Luo Binghe by allowing him free rein with all his memories as Shen Yuan.

Luo Binghe may have professed to finding Shen Yuan ‘cute,’ but that was a limited interaction with him. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t want to lose his painstakingly crafted facade as an immortal cultivator, not more than he already has. Shen Qingqiu and his relationship with Luo Binghe—it’s so different from how Shen Yuan viewed Luo Binghe.

No, how he viewed Luo Bingge. The Protagonist of Proud Immortal Demon Way, the Emperor of the Combined Realms…and Shen Qingqiu’s murderer.

He’ll have to explain PIDW, if only to explain why he knows so much about this world that he wasn’t born into, but to give Luo Binghe all of the details about what happened in his would-be future? It would explain a great deal, but it would just as likely hurt Luo Binghe to hear.

“Did Binghe notice anything…strange about Shen Yuan?” Shen Qingqiu asks delicately.

Equally delicately, Luo Binghe says, “His hair was cut short and his clothes were…”

Indecent by xianxia standards and far too appealing to Luo Binghe, obviously! Yes, Binghe, Shen Qingqiu remembers your comments the morning after you killed the System!

Even now, the memory of it suffuses Luo Binghe’s tone with restrained lust. Agh. Shen Qingqiu can just imagine!

“Right,” Shen Qingqiu says bracingly. “That’s normal where I’m from. Short hair and, ah, fewer layers.” His voice does not squeak as he says this. He’s not a prude, it’s just that living the past six years in this faux-historical xianxia fuckfest has skewed his sense of appropriate attire! “Because, at least in the stories that I’m aware of, transmigration is a transfer of souls between entirely different worlds. Maybe someday this world may become something similar to where I came from, but that would be hundreds of years from now, if it ever happens at all, and…”

And he’s rambling a bit, avoiding the important information. Luo Binghe is listening to him intently, but Shen Qingqiu is prevaricating and they both know it.

“Shizun didn’t start out in the same world as this Binghe,” Luo Binghe says. “His soul was separated from mine.”

That’s a rather poetic (and perhaps overwrought) way to state it, but not an inaccurate one.

Shen Qingqiu nods. “There was no cultivation in my old world,” he says. “None that I was aware of, anyway. We relied on technology to accomplish everything, which made the sharing of stories and, um, legends, much easier.”

“That must have pleased Shizun greatly,” Luo Binghe says.

“Mn,” Shen Qingqiu, deciding that he’s allowed to editorialize a bit when he says, “I spent most of my time reading such stories. Studying them, oftentimes, and critiquing various works of fiction, or compiling references.” There, that sounds better than admitting that he was a NEET shut-in with an addiction to reading shitty web-novels, editing wikis, and starting fights on the Internet.

“As expected of Shizun,” Luo Binghe says. Oh, Shen Qingqiu really should feel guilty for his representing himself like this, but Luo Binghe’s approval sends a warm curl of fondness through him.

“What I spent the most time studying,” Shen Qingqiu says, choosing his words with absolute precision, “was actually…a compendium of…legends…about this world.”

He winces as he grits that white lie out. He doesn’t want to give his poor Binghe a complex or an existential crisis if he starts right out with the fact that he’s the main character of a porn novel! Maybe they can ease into that later.

(Then again, Shen Qingqiu is no longer so comfortably certain that that’s entirely correct. It’s hard to feel that way when you’ve spent so many years living among people, ones who are so much more than characters on a page. It’s even more difficult when you’ve stared out at the vast expanse of worlds and the void between them and finally understood just how tiny you are in comparison to infinity—

But Shen Qingqiu has never seen such a thing. Has he?)

“What did the legends of this world focus on? What did Shizun learn from them?” Luo Binghe asks, with an unerring ability to arrow in exactly on the part of this that Shen Qingqiu was most dreading having to explain. He was building up to that, Binghe! Did you have to jump right to it?!

“Well,” Shen Qingqiu says, stalling for time despite his resolution to explain this all to Luo Binghe. “Most things. The cultivation sects, the Demon Realm, the Immortal Alliance Conference—I found myself particularly entranced by many of the beasts, since none of them existed in my world…”

“Any beast in particular?” Luo Binghe asks, leaning forward eagerly.

Shen Qingqiu’s mouth goes dry. He has never once called Luo Binghe a little beast the way the Original Goods so often had—yet that’s somehow what Luo Binghe is angling for here! This brat! Going by his reaction, he already knows (or guesses) what, or rather who, those “legends” focused on. Shen Yuan must have given that way, though surely if he told Luo Binghe everything, then he would have freed Shen Qingqiu the burden of having to explain it a second time.

…Unless he really wants to hear it from Shen Qingqiu’s own lips, for some reason.

Trust, perhaps. Honesty, in their relationship. No matter how personally vexing Shen Qingqiu finds it, it’s a little romantic, he’ll grudgingly admit that.

Well, Shen Qingqiu refuses to call Luo Binghe a beast, no matter how much he may paw at Shen Qingqiu! More than that, he refuses to be trapped by this verbal snare Luo Binghe has laid out for him. So, instead of what Luo Binghe is so clearly angling to get him to confess, Shen Qingqiu grasps desperately for any beast he can think of.

“Black Moon Rhinoceros-Python,” Shen Qingqiu blurts out. He didn’t get to see it at the Immortal Alliance Conference! Mobei-Jun showed up instead and removed Luo Binghe’s seal entirely rather than merely cracking it. That, Shen Qingqiu has come to the conclusion, is probably why Luo Binghe was able to speed run the Abyss as he had.

He still doesn’t know the exact time frame—Luo Binghe didn’t come straight from the Abyss to kidnap Shen Qingqiu from Qing Jing, not with how much he already conquered and had prepared in the Demon Realm—but his best guess is that it was under two years. His clever, dedicated little overachiever.

Said overachiever blinks at him, thrown off balance. Then something calculating and somehow pleased flashes through his eyes.

“Oh?” Luo Binghe purrs, leaning further into Shen Qingqiu’s space. “And why is that, Shizun?”

Because it’s cool as fuck. Because it was the turning point of the novel. Because it cracked Luo Binghe’s seal and opened the Endless Abyss. Because it’s so inextricably intertwined with Luo Binghe in Shen Qingqiu’s mind that, even with an entire mental bestiary at his disposal, it was the first beast he was able to think of when Luo Binghe demanded an answer of him.

Fortunately, there’s no way Luo Binghe can guess any of that.

(Right?)

“The combination of beasts in this world is fascinating from a zoological standpoint,” Shen Qingqiu bullshits calmly. “This master finds himself very interested in how the authors of the bestiaries he has read described their calls as both that of a rhino and python. Additionally, its special ability to form temporal-spatial rifts is of personal interest to this master.”

For a great many reasons, even.

“…A thorough answer,” Luo Binghe says, managing not to sound too disappointed. “This lord will have to see about adding one to Shizun’s growing collection.”

“Indeed,” Shen Qingqiu says primly. “But…” He fiddles with the bedsheet. Come on, just say it! “Mostly what I read…focused on…” He clears his throat. “It focused on the legends of a young half-demon as he discovered his heritage, grew to power, and became the Demon Emperor.”

And razed all the cultivation sects and took over six hundred wives and, oh yeah, combined the Three Realms, he finishes in his mind. Not that any of that is on the table now, apparently.

A grin splits Luo Binghe’s face, smug and triumphant. “Shizun read all about my life,” he says with strange emphasis. “Shizun spent so much time studying me.”

“Don’t make it sound strange like that!” Shen Qingqiu says, ears warm.

Like a too enthusiastic dog, Luo Binghe shoves himself into Shen Qingqiu’s lap so that he can slobber all over his face. Shen Qingqiu puts up with this over-the-top display of affection for only a short while before he forces distance between them again.

“I’m not done talking!” Shen Qingqiu says to Luo Binghe’s pout. He smacks at Luo Binghe’s hand where it’s trying to stealthily creep its way up his thigh.

Luo Binghe heaves a heavy sigh, but withdraws.

Shen Qingqiu attempts to order his thoughts. Unfortunately, this is as far as his planning originally got. He was braced for any sort of reaction that Luo Binghe might have; this enthusiastic one has, at least, knocked all of the worst ones out of the running, yet it leaves Shen Qingqiu with choice paralysis as he attempts to decide where to go from here.

Luo Binghe has mercy on him. “Shizun thought it important for this Binghe to know such things,” he prompts.

“Yes,” Shen Qingqiu says. “It’s only that after seeing those memories…I don’t want Binghe to misunderstand me. I don’t want—I—”

Fuck, even Shen Qingqiu himself doesn’t understand himself here! Except for the central truth of it.

“The way Shen Qingqiu treated you was wrong,” the man currently known as Shen Qingqiu says. “I know how bad it got, Binghe,” and he knows how much worse it would have been if Shen Qingqiu never came to this world, “and none of it was ever your fault. You never deserved to be treated that way. I—I changed things, by coming to this world. I’m only sorry that I wasn’t somehow sent here even sooner, to save you from any of that happening at all, or that I didn’t fight harder against the System when it truly mattered—”

“Shizun did his best,” Luo Binghe interrupts. “Shizun always…does his best.” He has a strange expression as he continues. “When Shizun says he changed things…”

Ah. They’ve once more stumbled directly into a topic that he cannot give thorough answers to, not without hurting Luo Binghe. Yet he has to give Luo Binghe something.

“He wouldn’t have stopped,” Shen Qingqiu says wearily. “He never would have stopped unjustly hating you. Hurting you. The System…it attempted, in many ways, to hold fast to the”—plotline—“legends that it knew, and…that Shen Qingqiu didn’t need a threat from an outside source to send you into the Endless Abyss.”

“I understand,” Luo Binghe says. “So if that’s the case…” He seems to think rather deeply; imagining how that life might have gone, perhaps? Except what comes out of his mouth is, “Shizun must hate that other Luo Binghe very much.”

“Binghe!” Shen Qingqiu says, astonished.

Luo Binghe has a grim set to his jaw. “I know myself,” he says. “Once I had power enough—I know how I would treat someone who treated me the way that man treated me, and for that long. So wouldn’t Shizun hate that other Luo Binghe for what he did to Shen Qingqiu?”

“It wasn’t unjustified,” Shen Qingqiu says immediately. Ah, he should have known that keeping the details to himself wouldn’t be enough to keep Luo Binghe from simply imagining it himself! Who knows if his imaginings aren’t even worse than what Bingge actually did? “I never thought it unjustified.” Not even when he’d feared his precious disciple doing the same to him. “In fact, in all the legends that I read, I…I admired that Luo Binghe intensely.”

Intensely enough that having to talk about it here and now with the man himself—albeit a different version of him—is truly embarrassing. It’s worth it, though, for the way his confession wipes the grimness from Luo Binghe’s face.

“You did?” Luo Binghe presses eagerly.

“Mn,” Shen Qingqiu says. “He was clever and ruthless and powerful, much like my Binghe. He conquered all the realms, not only the Demon Realm, and ruled over them as undisputed emperor. He went on many hunts and quests, fought innumerable monsters, saved a great many people”—most of them women, who then joined his harem, but Shen Qingqiu’s skipping over that, thank you!—“or otherwise resolved issues between various clans, amassed a considerable collection of legendary artifacts and treasures, solved many mysteries…”

Shen Qingqiu had half expected Luo Binghe would end up chugging vinegar at this listing of accomplishments for his alternate self. Instead, Luo Binghe seems pleased as punch. If he were a dog, his tail would be wagging at Mach 7.

“He was terribly accomplished,” Shen Qingqiu continues. He steels himself for this next bit, marshaling all his strength that he might speak despite his thin face. “But on the whole, I’m most happy to have my Binghe here with me.”

Luo Binghe looks caught between elation and the vinegar that’s been missing this whole time. Elation wins out, though it leaves Shen Qingqiu wondering why it was a contest in the first place, if he’d somehow said the wrong thing after all—

(Or—)

“I’m most happy with Shizun, too,” Luo Binghe says. “I’m so glad Shizun died.” A beat passes between them. Luo Binghe’s brow furrows cutely before he says, panicked, “Wait, I meant—”

Laughter bursts out of Shen Qingqiu. He has never wanted to dwell on his own death, nor does he want to relive even the memory of it, but to have Luo Binghe so sweetly and sincerely say that to him, in such an unintentionally clumsy manner—it’s really too much! Ah, Luo Binghe is so precious.

“I’m very glad I transmigrated to finally meet you, Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says, when the laughter has passed.

It’s predictable, the way Luo Binghe tackles him onto his back and proceeds to thoroughly show Shen Qingqiu just how much he loves being in the same world as him.

Over the next week, in the moments between all else they’re doing, Shen Qingqiu throws himself into meditation. Now that he’s found his resolve, he finds he’s deeply curious. If he ever wants to remember what happened when Luo Binghe killed the System, meditation is the best way for him to accomplish it.

The best way that doesn’t mean involving Luo Binghe, anyway.

At least he has plenty of time to work on that. Shen Qingqiu expected it might be slow going, even after he explained what he was attempting to Luo Binghe. Normally, Luo Binghe would be pawing at him, demanding his attention constantly—if he wasn’t already busy pushing Shen Qingqiu down, that is. 

The honeymoon phase of their relationship really has come ahead of their marriage, ha! He just knows Luo Binghe is going to be even worse after they’re officially tied together in holy matrimony. Their wedding night is going to be—it’s going to—well. It’s going to be something, that’s for sure!

(…In his heart of hearts, Shen Qingqiu can’t exactly say he isn’t looking forward to it.)

However, said marriage is exactly why Luo Binghe has abandoned Shen Qingqiu to his own devices. Shen Qingqiu has plenty of time for his meditation because Binghe’s so busy running about planning and preparing for their fast-approaching wedding. Obviously he’s delegating a lot of it, having the demons under his command work on it, because it’s far too much for one man alone to handle. His Binghe is a bit of a control freak, though, so he’s still incredibly involved in the entire process.

Honestly, Shen Qingqiu is content to leave it to Luo Binghe. He gives his opinion when asked for it, but largely allows Luo Binghe to do as he wills. Besides, for all he knows there are certain demonic traditions Luo Binghe is going to be incorporating into this, and though Shen Qingqiu read all those horrid papapa scenes in Proud Immortal Demon Way, Airplane gave up on describing the weddings themselves fairly quickly. Plus, well, none of those weddings were to a man that Luo Binghe declared he was going to make his empress.

This kind of state wedding—it involves quite a few moving pieces. Honestly, he’s impressed that Luo Binghe is managing to chivy it along as quickly as he is. Even starting from the very day they got engaged, that’s barely a month and a half to get everything done!

Then again, the servants Luo Binghe has introduced him to seem quite competent, so perhaps that shouldn’t be unexpected.

It isn’t as though Luo Binghe has entirely abandoned Shen Qingqiu, of course. At the absolute minimum, they see each other at meals, and they’re still spending their nights together. Honestly, rare is the day that Shen Qingqiu only sees Luo Binghe at meals. It’s nevertheless a noticeable absence, one that Shen Qingqiu fills as best he can.

For the most part, he chooses to focus on his meditation.

He chooses to, but…that’s because he doesn’t have many other options.

All that time showing Shen Qingqiu the different parts of the palace, introducing him to steadily more of the staff, and yet Luo Binghe won’t allow Shen Qingqiu to go exploring on his own. When he’s gone, he leaves Shen Qingqiu alone in his rooms, the barrier up to keep him from leaving.

Even if he takes Shen Qingqiu to his personal garden for his daily meditation sessions, a request Shen Qingqiu has made with increasing frequency, Shen Qingqiu isn’t allowed to stray. There’s a barrier on the garden’s entrances as well, both to the greater parts of the Underground Palace and to Luo Binghe’s personal quarters. Luo Binghe explains it away as a barrier to keep others out while Shen Qingqiu is left potentially vulnerable by his meditation.

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t doubt the barrier functions that way. It’s only that it also works perfectly well to keep him penned in. The little flex of qi Luo Binghe uses to unlock it is the same that he uses to enter and exit Shen Qingqiu’s quarters. Shen Qingqiu hasn’t tried to leave the garden, but the few times he’s approached the barrier, Luo Binghe has appeared suspiciously quickly in order to redirect his attention.

They both know what’s going on here. Luo Binghe isn’t hiding it.

Shen Qingqiu isn’t a prisoner, he really isn’t. Not anymore. He promised he wouldn’t leave Luo Binghe. He promised. They’re getting married soon.

So then why won’t Luo Binghe let him out?

(Why is he so cautious about allowing Shen Qingqiu to speak with his staff, constantly hovering over the conversation and listening to every word? Why is he always escorting Shen Qingqiu around, never letting him explore by himself, never allowing him to learn the Underground Palace on his own merits? Why does Shen Qingqiu keep getting a fluttery feeling in his stomach, one telling him something is wrong here?

He shoves that feeling away, burying it deep.

He promised, to himself if no one else, that he would trust Luo Binghe. He believes in Luo Binghe’s love for him, he really does—so he has to maintain the trust that he’s already given Luo Binghe.

He has to.

In the back of his mind, he collects puzzle pieces with the same intensive focus he used to reserve for tracking dropped plot threads. He keeps those puzzle pieces in the undecorated box they came in for now, refusing to put them together, though even their incomplete shape looms heavy over all he does—

He promised he would trust Luo Binghe.

But he’s keeping those puzzle pieces in reserve nonetheless.)

Anyway. Shen Qingqiu has been spending a lot of time meditating, which is for the best. Not just because he’s so determined to restore those dream memories, either! In the many weeks since their engagement, he hasn’t been paying as much attention to his meditation as he should. Especially considering the fact that he’s been cured of his Without-A-Cure—and that he’s been engaging in quite a bit of dual cultivation.

He feels so powerful. He doesn’t have a chance to go deep into meditation like he would if he were in the Lingxi Caves—nor is the Demon Realm particularly conducive to him gathering spiritual energy for himself, though he certainly is doing a lot better now that he’s not having to fight off the Demon Realm’s miasma alongside Without-A-Cure—but Shen Qingqiu’s efforts aren’t ill-spent. Each time he enters meditation, even though it’s not the dedicated, long span of time he spent in the Lingxi Caves, he feels that same control of himself as he did back then: the way the world is so much more more clear, the way his body moves so easily, the way he feels like he could do anything.

He’s pretty sure he’s teetering on the edge of another breakthrough.

He’s pretty sure the only thing holding him back…is Shen Yuan.

That part of himself is the whole reason he began meditating to this extent in the first place. He wants those memories of the System.

(He wants to know what Luo Binghe isn’t telling him about that time, because he’s not keeping quiet about it just for Shen Qingqiu’s sake, he’s holding something else back—

No. No, he’s trusting in Luo Binghe.)

So each day he sinks into his meditation and tries to direct his thoughts and energy toward what Luo Binghe told him of that time. Shen Yuan meeting Luo Binghe, explaining transmigration to at least some extent, finding the System inside his mind…

Shen Yuan seems familiar with this lord.

Shen Qingqiu’s eyes pop open, his excitement too much for him to maintain control of the memory’s tenuous thread.

Ha! He’s had his first success!

It’s somewhere between trying to recall a dream and trying to recall what you did while drunk. Or what Shen Qingqiu assumes being drunk is like. He drank only occasionally in his previous life, though not to the extent that he would have trouble remembering what he did the next morning. Shen Yuan wasn’t ever really into the bar scene, nor were his few in-person friendships the kind where he felt comfortable going out drinking with anyone. As Shen Qingqiu, he had largely avoided drinking because he was concerned what might fall out of his mouth if he ever overindulged.

Information about his transmigration was his main fear. He has to admit he was also afraid Peerless Cucumber might slip out. It’s fine to show that side of himself to Shang Qinghua, but if he let that out in front of any of his martial siblings or, heavens forbid, his disciples, he would never recover! Best not to tempt fate (or the System).

He supposes he doesn't have to worry about that much anymore. He can drink in front of Luo Binghe if he likes, though he isn't sure how much he'll enjoy it. Maybe if Luo Binghe prepares a drink for him, ah...

At any rate, now that he's had his first success, hopefully it won't be that much more difficult going forward. The memories are there, waiting for him. All he has to do is dig them up. 

Contented, Shen Qingqiu sinks back down into his meditation to work on doing precisely that.