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Chapter Text

There were several occasions that Luo Binghe felt wrongfooted whilst traveling the demon realm and conquering clan after clan. 

For example, one had to be explicit, as it would turn out, that they were not in fact intending on a marriage when they set out to beat a person near to death. If you simply walked up to someone and began to attack them so fiercely, no explanation, there was room for interpretation. 

Particularly if you yourself were a person with demon blood as well. 

After the second time that random servants attempted to cajole him into wedding robes the evening following his subjugation of their lord or lady of that region, Meng Mo finally gave him some context. (The elder approved of this potential harem personally, much to Luo Binghe's distaste.) 

In any event, Luo Binghe found it best to walk into whatever castle or stronghold, loudly declare he was ONLY THERE FOR THE LAND AND AUTHORITY as he intended to be emperor, and then begin fighting in earnest. Cleared up any potential misunderstandings. 

Another example? 

He found he had to clarify that no, he was not actually a cannibal, don't serve him any dishes with human meats. (The first and only time this happened, he ended up having the replace the kitchen staff of that fortress, as he had beheaded them all that very night after he vomited up the contents of his stomach.) 

This latest thing... in a way, it was less pressing than some of his other instances of confusion in this foreign land. 

It was not abhorrent in nature, something vile and repugnant that would leave a stain on his mind for weeks. It was merely. 

Odd.

Very odd. 

Too odd even. 

In fact, Luo Binghe might even go so far as to state that he had never felt this awkward in his entire life. Which was truly saying something, given how many times he had to attempt to hide the, ahem, issues with his pillar that arose on occasion (or perhaps more often than he'd like to admit) when he was tending to his shizun what seemed like an eternity ago now. 

(Once, he had tossed himself into a nearby pond in his haste to conceal such an issue, and Shizun only bemoaned his clumsiness, helping him out when he resurfaced.) 

His sword. 

Would not. 

Stop. 

Calling. 

That man. 

BABA. 

Xin Mo had not really said anything at first, only expressing extreme interest in Shang Qinghua when it noticed he was there via intolerable and painful screeching and mental impressions of him him him NOW. Which Luo Binghe naturally assumed meant it wanted him dead. 

That traitorous martial uncle hardly seemed the most prevalent threat at the moment when he had Mobei-Jun in the same space, but if it was going to throw this much of a fit over him, fine. WHATEVER. He could kill him first. Calm down. 

Only Xin Mo did not want him dead. It only wanted him to hold it. Which? What?! 

If Shang Qinghua had not looked so earnestly confused and terrified himself, Luo Binghe would be certain he was doing something. Something to make Xin Mo react like this, in a way it never had before. But he looked just as lost as him. 

Only that didn't stop him from calling Xin Mo a little bun and himself its Baba, which made the sword even more of a nuisance than before. 

ALL it would refer to him as from then on was Baba. 

Baba, Baba, put me with Baba, you dumb brat! 

And that shameless shishu was just going around. Kissing Xin Mo. Wherever, whenever. Like that was a perfectly normal thing to do with a sword. Like it was actually a small human child that wanted kisses from its parent. 

Luo Binghe had to concede, however reluctantly, that such kisses and attention did make Xin Mo very happy. 

Too happy even. 

All this purring and squealing was disturbing frankly. He wasn't sure he liked it. 

Especially since that, if he stood too close to those two, he could feel how content and happy the sword spirit was. He was not content or happy these days. It made him feel... strangely. Very strangely. 

But... if even a sword spirit like Xin Mo could be capable of love in this capacity... perhaps... one day Shizun may understand that he loved him? That even this filthy demon could be... could be good? Good enough to remain by his side?

It did bring a tentative ray of hope to his heart. 

Of course, then he had to deal with shit like this. 

"What the fuck." His hand went to grab at his scabbard, and sure enough, there was no hilt for his fingers to grab onto. His back felt lighter for a reason. 

If it was teleporting itself now, what was even the point of claiming it? He was its master. Could he not be given the barest amount of respect? Zheng Yang would never treat him so poorly. 

"Shut the fuck up. Slow ass piece of shit. I said put me with Baba, are you deaf? How dare you go to latrine first? Just piss yourself." 

Luo Binghe turned his head, neck creaking. His head had to tilt back. This "demon" was nearly two heads taller than him. 

"Xin Mo," he presumed flatly. 

Some sword spirits could cultivate other forms. He would have been intrigued under other circumstances, but he had a dreadful suspicion that it was Shang Qinghua's fault. Again. This had to be about him. 

Everything was about that martial uncle with this thing. Ever since they ran into him, it had all gone sideways. 

The sword spirit ignored him and snapped its fingers, claws glittering like rubies in the dying sunlight. A portal opened under it, and it dropped through. He could hear a shriek before the tear in reality stitched back together, as well as a horrifyingly familiar Baba! I love you! 

Hearing Xin Mo speak like that with a real voice, not just one that remained in his head, was somehow a hundred times as mortifying. 

Luo Binghe took his time in the latrine, washed his hands. 

Then he reluctantly went to fetch his absurd excuse for a sword. 

Shang Qinghua was stuck in the middle of a corridor, squished into the sword spirit's lap as it held him tightly, peppering kisses all over the back of his head, ears, forehead, hair, that stick poking out of his bun. Anywhere it could reach. 

His shishu let it happen, laughing breathlessly and shaking his head. 

"Xiao Bao, how many kisses does Baba need? Calm down, silly child." 

Luo Binghe cleared his throat. 

Shang Qinghua flinched. "Ah! Junshang! Hi! Um, this servant can be with you in a moment-" 

"Wanna die today," Xin Mo demanded, baring its bone-white fangs. A growl resounded in Luo Binghe's skull. "Get lost, brat." 

"Xiao Bao," Shang Qinghua chided in reproach. 

Xin Mo pressed its mouth back into Shang Qinghua's hair, whining. "Baba, pay attention to meeeee." 

Shang Qinghua reached back to pat at its cheeks, smiling indulgently. 

See? See what he dealt with? 

INSANITY. HIS LIFE WAS INSANE. 

Luo Binghe huffed out a laugh. It was better than banging his head into the nearest wall. 

"Bring that one to this lord's room." 

"This subordinate can do so- ahahaha, stooop, that tickles. Baba is talking!" 

Luo Binghe gnawed at the inside of his cheek, rabid envy roiling under all the spillover of joy, calmness, and unerring affection leaking from his sword. That jealousy was all his own, not secondhand. 

Don't get it wrong. He didn't want to be in Xin Mo's place. With Shang Qinghua? Ugh. Never. 

No, it was only because he missed Shizun. That was all. 

Xin Mo kissed over Shang Qinghua's hair, and Luo Binghe turned away, rubbing at his temple with two fingers. It was all so ridiculous. What weapon adopts a random cultivator as its parental figure!? 

Chapter Text

Was it terrifying to have a massive demon fall out of the ceiling and land on him? 

Well, duh. 

Fortunately for him, it was only Xin Mo pretending to be a demon, and Xin Mo had proven in the short time since he had encountered it that it would not do him harm or let him come to harm. 

There was some absurdly smooth flipping and midair movement involved, but Shang Qinghua ended up in its lap in the end, none the worse for wear. Just confused. 

Confused and rather comfortable. 

Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu.  Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu. Chu-

"Xiao Bao, my darling child, you don't need to keep kissing me all night." Shang Qinghua wasn't upset. Far from it. 

If Xin Mo's fond emotions were a warm bath for his heart, then being wrapped up in a bear hug was a weighted blanket. The kisses? ... He didn't have a good analogy for that one, but it felt pretty darn nice. 

Xin Mo's lips were soft and warm, like tiny pillows poking at him. Not so tiny perhaps. Xin Mo was rather large, even in a humanoid shape. Not so tiny pillows? But not full size pillows. If its mouth were the size of a normal size pillow, it could swallow his head in a single bite, haha! 

"Xin Mo would never eat Baba. Baba is the only precious being in any world." 

Had he rambled? 

Must've rambled. 

But oh my, too precious itself, this child of his. Lip service? Not at all! What better bullshit detector was there than reading someone's emotions in real time? 

Even when Xin Mo was not using its new mouth, there was a constant and adoring purr rumbling in his head. 

"Baba is only teasing. He can see that his lovely child is very filial." Too much of a cinnamon roll. Shang Qinghua loved it. He gave into his cuteness aggression and squished this cutie's not so squishy cheek. 

Oh, his skin was soft. Not much fat to squish but what was squishable was very nice against his fingers. Solid seven out of ten. Would squish again. 

Shang Qinghua squished again. 

Xin Mo's eyes fluttered shut like a particularly content cat getting scritched under the chin. Its eyelashes stood out against its dark skin, a vibrant bloody red that matched the detailing on its blade. Redheads usually had light brown or blonde eyelashes, not red. It was pretty. 

Sword or demon, this child was a handsome thing. 

This Baba had designed him well. 

"No cat forms? Xiao Bao is such a kitten," Shang Qinghua commented, also to tease. 

Xin Mo was silent for several seconds, fond expression going curiously empty, before it shook its head. Shang Qinghua could hardly see its pointed ears before with all the hair in the way, but the two at the side of its head were now absent, replaced with a pair of feline ears sprouting from the top of its skull. 

These were also red. 

Shang Qinghua covered his mouth with a hand. 

"Did you just-!" 

A catboy! A real life catboy! 

Or maybe a catgirl. Xin Mo had an extremely androgynous figure and the most gender neutral style you could find in xianxia China. Catsword? Catspirit? 

His shoulders were trembling. With mirth, that is. 

Xin Mo was so cute. It really didn't have to work that hard to impress him. Just feeling how much it loved him was plenty. 

"This shape is malleable." 

"Oh?" Shang Qinghua reached up and touched the cat ears. Soft! 

"It is dull between wielders," Xin Mo added. 

Shang Qinghua forced himself to stop fondling the kitty ears. "You do not have to keep it like that. It was a joke." 

"Baba likes it." 

"I do like it," Shang Qinghua was willing to admit. "My child is cute either way." 

"There's a tail." 

"There is?" Was there short fur or long fur? Floofy like a housecat or sleek like a tiger's-? Wait, he didn't have time to waste on that. His boss's new boss was probably furious he was taking so long to get Xin Mo to his room. Shang Qinghua spent far too much time getting kissed. (And he'd do it again. He was shameless enough to admit that.) "Xiao Bao, come here." 

Shang Qinghua wriggled out of its thick arms and grabbed the sword spirit by the waist, lifting it off the ground. With his cultivation, that wasn't anything to sweat over. 

Putting it over his shoulder would be fine if Xin Mo were sword shaped, but that would not only look stupid like this, such an impersonal carry was rude. His child was not a sack of flour. 

He intended to just keep it in his arms and carry it off like that, a princess carry pretty much. That was similar to how he usually held it, letting its blade rest across his forearms or in the crook of his elbows. But Xin Mo wrapped its legs around his midsection, arms coming around to wrap around him and crush him to its chest. 

O...kay! Clingy baby hold it is? 

Shang Qinghua had to chuckle. His child was too big for this. Sweet sticky child. 

"I know your body isn't technically real, but that position looks atrocious for your neck." 

Xin Mo kept its face firmly planted against Shang Qinghua's shoulder and neck. "I love you. I love you. I love you." 

What did Shang Qinghua say? 

Cinnamon roll. Cutie. 

Something wrapped around the back of his knee, then the whole of his knee twice, and Shang Qinghua glanced around Xin Mo. A furry limb had gone under the hem of his robes. Ah, there was the tail. Sleek tiger. Still cute. 

He placed a kiss to Xin Mo's head, a smile on his lips. "Yes, Baba loves you too. Sticky rice ball." 

Shang Qinghua hurried down the corridor.