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Chapter Text

Mobei Jun was sixteen the summer that Shang Yinghua ruined his life. 

Luo Binghe was to blame. After a single, vicious fistfight behind their academy in which Luo Binghe broke Mobei Jun’s clavicle, thereby asserting his dominance, Binghe had developed a habit of dragging Mobei Jun from place to place. Mobei Jun went along with it, vaguely aware that Luo Binghe could easily re-break his clavicle if he chose. 

Thankfully, Luo Binghe didn’t seem interested in obliterating any of Mobei Jun’s body parts; instead, he seemed to need an audience who would occasionally nod their head as he gushed about his beloved, perfect, beautiful, dreadful tutor / wife-to-be even though she was completely oblivious to her fate, Yuan-jie. 

(Shen Yuan was, to be fair, probably not dreadful. But Mobei Jun had had her perfection dinned into his ears so often that it vaguely pleased him to call her dreadful, even if only in the privacy of his own mind.)

Luo Binghe had decided that Mobei Jun should meet Shen Yuan, because she had expressed some worry that he spent too much time “with an old lady,” as she referred to herself. She was, as far as Mobei Jun could tell, not even twenty, but she expressed concern that Luo Binghe “didn’t have enough friends his own age.” 

“We’re not friends,” Mobei Jun warned, as Luo Binghe punched the familiar elevator buttons that would help him ascend to the mountainous heights of Shen Yuan’s apartment. 

Luo Binghe gave him an incredulous look. “Of course not,” he said, and Mobei Jun breathed out. They were in accord. 

Mobei Jun then had the disturbing experience of witnessing the habitual scorn on Luo Binghe’s face melt away, replaced by freshness and purity and joy.  

“Yuan-jie!” Luo Binghe sang out, as he slid his spare key into his tutor’s door, “I’m here, and I brought a- oh.” The freshness and purity and joy vanished. “It’s you.” 

“Bwuh?” a girl said, poking her head up from a sage-green couch, which was covered in a startling amount of pillows and blankets. The girl was plump and round-cheeked, with brown curling hair wild from sleep, and she squinted at them, drowsy. “Ah, it’s the Bing-sheep. Bing-sheep and - another little lamb?” 

“We know each other from school,” Luo Binghe said, sounding sullen as he took off his shoes and placed his satchel on a hook by the door, then gestured for Mobei Jun to do the same. “This is Mobei Jun.” 

“Shang Yinghua,” the girl said, getting up from the couch. She was wearing a teal sweatshirt with the neck hacked off, and purple shorts that revealed her plump, comfortable-looking thighs, which were the colour of milk tea. She yawned, and padded over to the kitchen, and Mobei Jun told himself to stop noticing her legs. 

“You guys want anything?” she asked, reaching up to pull instant noodles and packets of 3-in-1 down from a kitchen shelf, obviously comfortable in the space. 

Luo Binghe squawked in outrage. “I told Yuan-jie to throw those out!” 

“And clearly, she obeys your every word,” the girl - Shang Yinghua - said, amused. “Because that sounds like the Peach Sis I know - extremely biddable.” 

“Where is Yuan-jie?” Luo Binghe asked, sounding like a five-year-old circling a tantrum.

“Out,” Shang Yinghua said. “She had to go pick up something from Shen Jiu’s, but she’ll be back soon."

“I don’t trust her sister to feed her properly. I’ll whip up a little something in case Yuan-jie’s hungry when she gets back.” 

“Ooh!” Shang Yinghua said, her eyes brightening as she dumped instant coffee into a mug that featured a white cat screeching at a cucumber. “Can I taste test??” 

Binghe gave her a withering stare as he pulled on a frilly dark red apron covered with prancing black poodles. “Absolutely not.” 

Shang Yinghua stuck her tongue out at Binghe, but doing this while walking required more coordination than she possessed, because she tripped and spilled her subpar coffee. 

Mobei Jun sprang up to help - 

Then froze - 

As Shang Yinghua whipped off her sweatshirt. 

“Gah!” Shang Yinghua wailed, staring at her dripping sweatshirt while Mobei Jun tried not to stare. The oversized sweatshirt had hid it, but Shang Yinghua had a - a - a very generous. Personage. Her black and turquoise sports bra had a - a mesh panel of sorts in the front that hid - very little.

“You were a good soldier,” Shang Yinghua said mournfully, as she kneeled and started using her sweatshirt to mop up the spilled coffee. Her - her body moved, when she did that, and Mobei Jun found himself tortured by the revelation that she had little rose-brown freckles dusting the tops of her. Her - 

It didn't matter. Because Mobei Jun wasn’t looking, because he didn’t look. At people. Not like that. 

“Don’t just use your clothes!” Luo Binghe said, storming out of the kitchen wielding a soapy dishcloth. “There’s milk and sugar in there - it needs to be properly cleaned up!” 

“Bing-sheep, have I ever told you that you’re really the perfect little housewife?”

“Shang Yinghua, I don’t understand how Yuan-jie can even stand you-” 

Luo Binghe kept haranguing her and Shang Yinghua laughed, and they carried on, just like that, as if Mobei Jun’s life hadn’t been changed, forever. 

~

By the time Shang Yinghua hit the ripe age of twenty-seven, she’d had her fair share of horny dreams. 

Honestly, not as many as Peach Sis (aka Heavenly Peaches) would think, no matter how much slander Peach Sis had left on the collected web novels of Great Master Submarine Plunging the Depths. Shang Yinghua figured this was because horny dreams were all about repression - the stuff you didn’t think let yourself think about, in daylight hours. Shang Yinghua had many flaws (Peach Sis probably had an itemized spreadsheet somewhere, breaking them down, the little freak [affectionate]), but being repressed was not one of them. 

Which meant that when she had a glancing thought about being thoroughly dicked down by her icy, unbearably attractive, domineering boss, she didn’t get all maiden-ish about it and say, Oh no! I mustn’t think about him this way, because we could never be together! No, Shang Yinghua pulled out a vibrator and called it a night. 

But this was a horny dream on a whole other level.

Not because Mobei Jun was in bed with her. That was par for the course, although in her idle daydreams, they did fuck in a lot of random locations. Mobei Jun in bed was, whatever, default. It was, however, strange that he was wearing clothes that completely covered his chest and abs. In fact, he was wearing one of the grey t-shirts that Real Life Mobei Jun usually slept in; she’s pretty sure he has ten of the exact same shirt. 

Dream!Mobei Jun was sitting up in bed and reading something on a tablet which, okay, hot, because who didn’t love a literate man, but also - and this was the obliterating thing - he was wearing his fucking glasses. They were plain and black and rectangular and the only other times she had seen him wear them was after he pulled an all-nighter. He did not wear them on a lark, which was good, because they were, as far as Shang Yinghua was concerned, a lethal fucking weapon. 

But this was what made the horny dream most confusing: the two of them were cuddling. 

More accurately, in this dream, she was was curled up on her side, facing Mobei Jun, cuddling one of his arms between her breasts. Which was honestly, full stop, pretty fucking great. But also - he was holding the tablet with one hand, and he was stroking Shang Yinghua’s hair with his other hand. 

Which… what? 

What? 

Was it something about creeping closer to thirty? Ovulating? When had Shang Yinghua’s dreams about riding that massive pillar suddenly devolved into… domestic goop? 

“Bwuh?” she said. 

Mobei Jun’s eyes slid to her. His dark hair was still tied back in its customary horsetail, but as if to fit the whole cosy morning vibes, a few strands had fallen loose and framed his (stupidly perfect) face, making its usually harsh lines seem softer.

Or was it something about his eyes? The glasses? Why was his expression so weirdly soft?

“Shang Yinghua,” he said, and ah, yeah, damn her subconscious knew her - that deep, cool, almost rumbling voice, made a little rougher by the morning, saying her name definitely did things to her. 

“My king?” she said, because she was an idiot. She’d started calling him “your majesty” when they were dumb teenagers and the way he’d get all hissy and offended had been hilarious at the time, and now the nickname had stuck. 

His hand left her hair which was - ah, she would have liked to enjoy that for a little longer - but then his cool fingers brushed her cheek and that. Hnnnn. That was nice. She could feel her eyes almost fluttering shut. She had a tendency to run hot (curse underboob sweat) but Mobei Jun was always pleasantly cool, like a giant popsicle with great muscle definition. 

“How is Shang Yinghua feeling?”

“… My mouth tastes like I ate gravel,” she said, which it did. His eyebrows arched with a barely perceptible smile (WTF!!) and he passed her a glass of cool water from the bedside table. She sat up, and drank the whole thing down, enjoying the way she could feel Mobei Jun watching her throat as she swallowed. 

Dream!Mobei Jun was really playing the househusband role to a T. At the pace of her usual fantasies, he should already be sliding his hand between her thighs, but this was nice, too. Shang Yinghua could have a little foreplay, as a treat. 

She gave him the glass, and he indulgently wiped a stray drop of water from her chin, which was very promising. She wasn’t naked yet, which was more evidence that this would be the kind of horny dream featuring careful undressing and slow morning sex with lots of eye contact.

Shang Yinghua wasn’t sure why her subconscious decided to put her not in some kickass lingerie, but in the dark navy shortie PJs that she usually wore when she slept over at Mobei Jun’s (not for sex reasons, sadly - just those times when they’d worked until two in the morning and it made depressingly more sense to sleep at her boss’ apartment rather than hoof it all the way back to her own place. Sometimes, when she thought about the current state of her life, it made her sad, so she tried not to think about it too much). Whatever, maybe her subconscious was deciding to go with verisimilitude. 

And then her phone went off. 

She sighed. This was the problem with scenery setting and tension-building! It was such absolute bullshit and in keeping with Shang Yinghua’s tragicomic life that she couldn’t even get off in her own dream before she got woken up by her alarm. 

But strangely - the dream world did not dissolve. Her phone kept going on and on, until Mobei Jun looked at her with an arched eyebrow. “Are you going to get that?”

“Uh,” Shang Yinghua said, her heart sinking even though her brain had not quite caught up yet, as she fumbled for her phone, fully charged even though she didn’t remember plugging it in. And then her heart plunged when she saw the caller ID: Daddy Warbucks ALWAYS PICK UP 😍💰 😍💰 😍💰 

Uhhhhhhhhhhh - 

“Shang Yinghua,” a familiar voice said crisply. “Have you hydrated? Had caffeine? If not, that’s fine. They make a very good latte at the place we’re going. I’ll send a car for you in fifteen.” 

“… Linguang Jun?” 

Mobei Jun’s face darkened.

Oh. 

Oh. 

This absolutely wasn’t a sex dream. 

~

“I really don’t know what happened last night!” Shang Yinghua wailed, even as she ran around Mobei Jun’s apartment after the quickest shower of her life, trying to dry her hair and find her shoes at the same time time. “The last thing I remember was that Peach Sis and I went out for drinks, and then-” 

Poof! Mobei Jun, the Dream Daddy version, had disappeared, and there was Shang Yinghua’s icy asshole of a boss again. It was comforting, it was mortifying - why had she been shit-talking repression again? Repression seemed great! She was going to repress the fuck out of this whole weird morning! Shang Yinghua mentally sent Peach Sis an apologetic fruit basket for all the time she’d made fun of her for it! 

Somehow, even in sweatpants and a t-shirt, Mobei Jun crackled with menace, his arms crossed and his expression a thundercloud. “So you don’t,” Mobei Jun said, sounding Very Mad, “remember making breakfast plans with Linguang Jun?” 

“I don’t, I absolutely don’t!” Shang Yinghua blabbed, as she groped under the couch and - ha! Pulled out one of her grey flats! It was squashed and sad-looking, but wearable! Now where was the other one? “You know me, my king, I’m 100% loyal, I’d never stray, I’m like a kicked dog, haha, there’s no way I’d sell trade secrets to that Pretender to the Throne, no matter-” (Daddy Warbucks ALWAYS PICK UP 😍💰 😍💰 😍💰) “- no matter how much he offered to pay!” 

Mobei Jun did not say anything, but he did crouch next to her. Shang Yinghua, like all of her ancestors with their finely tuned survival instincts, froze. With his eyes never leaving hers, Mobei Jun withdrew her other flat from where it had been wedged behind a couch cushion, and dropped it in her hands.

“… Thanks?” she squeaked, but Mobei Jun was already heading to his bedroom. 

“Tell Linguang Jun to cancel the car,” he said, over his shoulder. “I’m driving you.”

~

Shang Yinghua fidgeted in the passenger seat of Mobei Jun’s car, a beautiful, sleek, silver beast of a Jaguar that cost more than she wanted to think about in tune ups, replacement parts, garage rentals, and parking fees. 

She kept trying to sneak peeks at Mobei Jun as he drove, because he was still wearing those fucking glasses. Why?? To torture her? Was she being punished for sins from a past life? 

(You’re being punished for sins in this life, said a little voice that sounded awfully like Peach Sis in her mind. She swatted it to make it shut up.) 

True, he was also wearing black loafers and dark grey windowpane trousers that made his legs and ass look excellent, and those were fairly standard for Mobei Jun. But he was also wearing a white button up shirt with his sleeves were rolled up? Double why??? 

Reality had asserted itself and it turned out that Shang Yinghua was not living in a porn universe of her own making (sad) and yet! And yet here Mobei Jun was, casually exposing his forearms while he drove, like an absolute slut, as if this was all okay!

News flash: it was not okay!!! 

In contrast, the best that Shang Yinghua could manage was “not embarrassing.” She was wearing some of the spare clothes that Mobei Jun kept in the guest room for her, presumably so that if they had a last minute business meeting, she wouldn’t show up wearing a cardigan with a hole in the elbow (once) or a skirt with a rip in it (twice [her butt was just too powerful]) or a coffee-stained blouse (more times than she could count). The dress was a soothing shade of teal, felt silky against her skin, did flattering things for her chest and waist, and seemed terrifyingly like a dry-clean only kind of garment.  

“It’s too cold for short sleeves,” Mobei Jun had said shortly, just as they were departing, and then he had thrown a finely-made shawl at her - it was soft and cream-coloured, with tiny blue flowers embroidered in the corners. Shang Yinghua had drawn it over her shoulders and valiantly resolved not to spill anything on it. 

The brunch place they drove up to was all sleek glass and gleaming, exposed hardwood surfaces, flled with the chiming of crystal and soft voices. Shang Yinghua gulped when she gave her name at the front, and Mobei Jun’s hand stayed glued to the small of her back, as if making sure she wouldn’t bolt at the last minute. 

“Really, sir,” she said to Mobei Jun, for the million time, as the server led them to the second floor. “It’s, ah, really generous of you to go out of your way to drive me here and I super duper appreciate it, but don’t you think that-”

“Great Master!” Linguang Jun said, standing up from his table and beaming at her as if he’d just seen a long-wished for grandchild.  

Oh. 

Oh, Shang Yinghua was really fucked. 

“Great Master Submarine,” Linguang Jun said again, pulling out her chair like they were in a rom com. 

Shang Yinghua fell into the chair, because she wasn’t sure how long her legs were going to hold her up. “Linguang Jun,” she said faintly, while her brain buffered.  

“Nephew,” Linguang Jun said, his expression much frostier. “You could’ve just dropped Great Master off.” 

Mobei Jun looked back at his uncle, and said nothing. He was good at that, saying nothing. 

“I brought the paperwork we discussed last night,” Linguang Jun, presenting her with a manila envelope, and Shang Yinghua nearly choked on her water. 

“Um,” Shang Yinghua’s mouth said, while her nerveless hands accepted the envelope. At least it was in a discreet envelope and not just a briefcase full of unmarked cash? Though if she was going to have to run away, buy a forged identity, and start a new life, the unmarked cash might’ve been more helpful. “That’s - wonderful! Wow!” 

“Before you sign anything, please make sure to review it carefully with your agent,” Linguang Jun said. “Even better would be if you sat down with your lawyer. I wouldn’t want you-” and here, he stopped to glower at Mobei Jun, “getting taken advantage of.” 

“Uh,” Shang Yinghua said, highly aware that Linguang Jun gaze zero fucks about bribing his nephew’s COO right in front of him, while his nephew sipped ice water. Linguang Jun must have balls of steel. “I, uh, appreciate. Your scrupulousness....?” 

Linguang looked at her, and again, there was that grandfatherly beaming. It was… disconcerting. “It’s nothing, my dear. You deserve only the best, and I’m very happy to be the one to give it to you.” 

Mobei Jun’s glare deepened. 

Linguang Jun beamed. 

What? 

“What?” she said. “Do you mind if I-” 

“Go ahead,” Linguang Jun said indulgently. 

She opened the envelope. 

Her eyes skimmed over the tiny black print. Certain phrases jumped out at her - copyright ownership, subsidiary rights, advances and royalties, book club sales, delivery issues, print runs, illustrations - 

She looked up at Linguang Jun, and heard herself say, as if underwater, “You want to publish my novels?” 

“Yes,” he said, sipping his tea. “After extensive revisions and rewrites, of course, with the draft schedule that we discussed yesterday, as laid out in the contract-” 

“I.” Shang Yinghua’s mouth was so dry. “I. I drank a lot. Last night. I don’t - remember much…?”

Next to her, Mobei Jun tensed. 

“Hmm,” Linguang Jun said, eyeing her. “We did have several celebratory drinks, before you re-joined your friend. I didn’t realise - well, no matter. As I said, I encourage you to review the draft of the contract carefully with trusted parties, and have them contact my office with any counters. While I understand that a bidding war can be an excellent way to drum up pre-sale interest, I’d rather not waste time needlessly sparring with other publishing houses. It would be a better use of both of our time to start revising the manuscript as soon as possible-” 

Her head was spinning. She should be savvier. She should be taking notes. She’d been at a million meetings by Mobei Jun’s side, she knew how to wrangle and wheedle and get the best possible terms for her side,  but - 

“You really-” Oh. Oh no, oh god dammit all, Shang Yinghua was tearing up. “You really like my stories?” 

And Linguang Jun’s face did an impossible thing: it softened. 

“My dear,” he said. He reached across the table, and took one of her hands in both of hers. His hands were cool, like Mobei Jun’s. “I am your biggest fan.” 

Mobei Jun broke up this tender, bewildering moment by smacking his uncle’s hands away - rude - and then interlacing his long, cool, lovely fingers with Shang Yinghua’s. ???????

“That reminds me,” Linguang Jun said, his tone about twenty degrees cooler, “Great Master, have you tendered your resignation?” 

Shang Yinghua had the unpleasant feeling that she was constantly ten steps behind whatever conversation they were having. “My-” 

“She has,” Mobei Jun interrupted, just as his thumb slid down her index finger. Why was he being so distracting? “Our personnel officer is expediting the paperwork as we speak.” 

Wait. Wait, wait, wait- 

“My king? Are you firing me?” 

Mobei Jun blinked at her, and she cursed herself for using the phrase “winter-bright, flawless chrysoberyls” to describe the gong’s eyes in her last web novel. 

“You quit last night,” he said. “I accepted.” 

She yanked her hands away. 

“I, I -” 

“Great Master?” Linguang Jun said, concerned, before turning on Mobei Jun. “You indelicate oaf, how dare you upset Great Master Submarine in such a-” 

“Gotta go,” Shang Yinghua said, standing up unsteadily. The pretty shawl slid to the floor. 

“Shang Yinghua-” Mobei Jun, standing as well. She didn’t know what his face was doing, because she couldn’t look at him, because she’d somehow flushed her job down the toilet when she was blackout drunk, so - 

“Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go!” Shang Yinghua said. Her hands, without her permission, desperately shot finger guns as she bolted towards the nearest exit.  

~

“PEACH SIS!” she hollered, even as she was jabbing in their stupid apartment code, which was eight digits too long because Shen Jiu was a paranoid harpy. She yanked the door open. “Peach Sis, you have to catch me up on what the fuck happened last night because - oh.” 

Shen Yuan shoved Luo Binghe away. Which must have been difficult, because Shen Yuan was sitting on a countertop, and Luo Binghe had been standing between Shen Yuan’s bare thighs and mashing their faces together. 

“Wow,” Shang Yinghua said, staring at them. “Uh. Congratulations?” 

Shen Yuan, red-faced, hopped down from the counter and tried to tug down the hem of her oversized t-shirt, which did absolutely nothing to hide her dark green boyshorts. Luo Binghe pouted, like the drama queen he was, and looked extremely comfortable standing in Shen Yuan’s kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of skin-tight, dark red boxer briefs. 

Shang Yinghua should probably be grateful that they were still wearing underwear. 

“It’s not what it looks like,” Shen Yuan started, because she was a liar whose pants weren’t even on fire because she wasn’t wearing pants.

“It looks like you and the Bing-sheep were making out in our kitchen.”

“Um. Well.” Shen Yuan was flushing a truly brilliant shade of scarlet that Shang Yinghua had never actually seen on a human face before. 

“Yes,” Luo Binghe said, coming up behind Shen Yuan to put his hands on her waist and prop his chin on her shoulder. “And Shang-jie is interrupting.” 

“Binghe!” Shen Yuan yelped, but Luo Binghe just squeezed her waist. 

“Wow,” Shang Yinghua said, because honestly, the number of times Shen Yuan called her shameless and then indulged her sweet little precious white lotus sticky bun babygirl- 

“How’d it go with Mobei Jun?” Luo Binghe asked. 

~

Luo Binghe and Shen Yuan both went to put on more clothes (to save Shang Yinghua’s poor eyeballs) and then Shen Yuan gently suggested that perhaps Luo Binghe could make tea while she got Shang Yinghua caught up to speed on the events of the previous night. Luo Binghe pouted, stole a kiss, and then unironically put on an apron to start making breakfast. 

“Okay, so,” Shang Yinghua said, staring at Luo Binghe as he started whistling and hunting through their fridge. “Don’t think we’re not going to talk about your thing, because the second we’re done talking about my thing-”

“What’s the last thing that you remember from last night?” Shen Yuan interrupted. 

“That liquorice gin and tonic,” Shang Qinghua said, “two of those, with the plum liquor. Then the bamboo punch - you got loud after that one - and then the monk fruit and ginger vodka-” 

“The last thing you remember happening, not the last thing we drank.”

“Bro, that is the last thing that I remember!” 

“Mobei Jun’s uncle came over to our table. Remember that?” 

“Er…” 

Shen Yuan sighed heavily. “He sent over the tangerine whiskey?” 

“Oh, yeah! Damn, that one was good…” 

“Then you went over to his table, and talked to him for awhile, and when you came back, you were practically vibrating. You stole the rest of my drink, and then ordered another round ‘to celebrate’ even though you were being all cryptic and annoying and wouldn’t say what we were celebrating. Then you insisted that you had to go over to Mobei Jun’s right away. Binghe and I tried to stop you-”

“When did Luo Binghe get there?”

Shen Yuan fidgeted. “You were with Mobei Jun’s uncle for a while, okay? And I just happened to be texting Binghe at the same time, so-”

“Ah,” Shang Yinghua said. “Binghe worried about his beloved Yuan-jie being hit on when she was all alone at the bar and ran all the way there?” 

“Submarine!” Shen Yuan barked. “Focus! Binghe called a car to take us to Mobei Jun’s. I tried to talk you out of it, but you were being super obnoxious about it, so we dropped you off. And then-” Shen Yuan coughed, tucking her hair behind her ears. The tips of her ears were scarlet. “Anyway, that’s the end of the stuff that’s relevant.” 

Like hell Shang Yinghua was going to leave it there, but - “So,” Shang Yinghua said, fiddling with the cup of jasmine green tea that Binghe had (balefully) poured for her. That kid hated her and she knew exactly why, and he was just going to have to suffer through it. “I didn’t say anything about, um, being offered a book deal? And leaving Mobei Jun’s company?” 

A look of pure shock slid across Shen Yuan’s face. 

“Submarine,” she breathed. 

“I know, I know, don’t quit your day job,” Shang Yinghua lamented, chugging her now-lukewarm tea. “I think Drunk Me just went kind of like, mad with power, and decided to blow up my whole life, and-” 

“Submarine, this is brilliant!” Shen Yuan shouted, literally shaking Shang Yinghua by the shoulders. “You’re going to be published! You can finally fill in all those gaping plot holes that have been driving me crazy for years! Why didn’t you tell me last night!? I can’t believe you told Mobei Jun before you told me! You fucking traitor! I’m taking you to dinner to celebrate!” 

Shang Yinghua shook back and forth in Shen Yuan’s hold, feeling dizzy for multiple reasons. “You don’t think I’m an idiot for quitting my stable, high-paying grown up job to peddle porn?” 

“I think you’re an idiot for not quitting years ago,” Shen Yuan said, finally letting her go. “I always told you that Mobei Jun was wasting you.” 

“Hey,” Shang Yinghua said, weakly. “I clawed my way to the top to become COO and I’m not even thirty! That’s not nothing.”

“More like crawled your way to the top, and it’s never made you as happy as churning out poorly-plotted smut,” Shen Yuan said, with a burning intensity that was Peach Sis at both her finest and her worst. It was why they were sort of, kind of, maybe, best friends. “What did he say when you told him you were quitting?”

“I don’t remember,” Shang Yinghua said, still trying to navigate the emotional whiplash of Peach Sis being happy for her. “Apparently I wrote a resignation letter- ah!”

She dug out her phone, frantically brought up her e-mail, hunted for the last message she sent - and then wailed in despair. 

“Give me that,” Shen Yuan said, mercilessly plucking Shang Yinghua’s phone out of her hands. Which was easy, because Shang Yinghua was currently curled up on the floor in the fetal position, wishing for the sweet release of death. 

“Dear Boss Man,” Shen Yuan read out loud, “‘I’m quitting the rat race. Getting off the hamster wheel. Never going to wear a bra with underwire ever again. I am DONE. Finito. Consider this my two weeks’ notice. I’ll dedicate my first book to your abs. So long and thanks for all the fish! Love you, bye, YOUR HAMSTER.’” 

Shen Yuan squinted at the phone some more. “Mobei Jun replied like a minute later, but all his e-mail says is ‘Acknowledged’.” 

Shang Yinghua howled.

~

“Do you think he forwarded it to HR? He absolutely forwarded it to HR. And then they’re going to forward it to every single employee mailing list. I won’t even be able to show my face to the tea boy on Monday morning. Do you think I can pull off a fake moustache and pretend to be the new tea boy?” 

“That isn’t Mobei Jun’s style,” Luo Binghe said, sliding a plate of Eggs Benedict towards her. The Hollandaise sauce was a creamy sunshine colour and the asparagus spears, middles wrapped in prosciutto, were elegantly crossed as a pair of swords. Being able to eat Luo Binghe’s pity food was one of the few comforts in this entire debacle. 

“Did he seem mad this morning?” Shen Yuan asked, digging into her eggs. 

“No, but then yes? He wasn’t mad first thing in the morning, but he was after - after Linguang Jun called.” 

Shang Yinghua walked them through the events of the rest of her morning, skipping over the parts where she woke up cuddling Mobei Jun and when he held her hand, because they were anomalous data points in the grand scheme of things. 

“He doesn’t sound mad,” Shen Yuan said. “Kind of surprised he hasn’t been blowing up your phone, though.”

“Oh, I messaged Mobei Jun as soon as Shang-jie got here,” Luo Binghe said without turning a hair, because he respected no gods besides Yuan-jie. 

“That’s very thoughtful of Binghe,” Shen Yuan said approvingly, which made Luo Binghe glow. Shang Yinghua gagged - half pretend, half real. 

“And Mobei Jun said it was fine if you stayed with him for a few days, at his apartment,” Luo Binghe added, out of nowhere. 

“Why would I-” Shang Yinghua started, and then the smug look on Luo Binghe’s face made it click for her. “Oh my fucking god, you’re going to have sex all over our apartment, aren’t you?” 

“Submarine!” Shen Yuan said, scandalized, while Luo Binghe blushed a delicate shade of pink. 

~

“You could stay at a hotel,” Shen Yuan offered. She was hogging Shang Yinghua’s extremely comfortable computer chair and fiddling with a mechanical switch tester while Shang Yinghua shoved clothes into an overnight bag. “I’ll cover it. This has all been rather - er, unexpected-” 

Shang Yinghua contemplated her underwear. How long was “a few days”? Two days? A week? How long did Luo Binghe expect to be on sexcation? 

She sighed, dumped out her overnight bag, and dragged out a suitcase from her closet. 

“What do you mean ‘unexpected’?” Shang Yinghua asked. “The Bing-sheep has been wanting to bang you since he was fifteen.” 

Peach Sis squawked. “That’s not true! Binghe was practically a baby then!”

Shang Yingha remembered Luo Binghe being fifteen, and alternating his murderous glares at Shang Yinghua with angelic smiles for his beloved tutor. “Yeah, no, that kid has always had yandere vibes. I can attest to that.” 

The unfortunate thing was that Luo Binghe had always been so transparent to her. Shang Yinghua got him - his damage from all of the weird shit with his family, his abandonment and self-worth issues, his whole-hearted devotion to someone that he worshiped and put on a pedestal. It all rang uncomfortably close to her own life, just shot with the rich saturated colours of a K-drama with excellent production values, whereas her life was a third-rate sitcom and she was always the punchline. 

When Shen Yuan had put her foot down and insisted that the eighteen-year-old Luo Binghe should accept one of the billion admission offers that he’d received to study abroad, Luo Binghe had sobbed as if he’d been stabbed through the heart, then raced through two degrees in five years under the shady auspices of a Shen Foundation scholarship. 

He’d crashed back into Shen Yuan’s life three months ago and Shang Yinghua was honestly surprised that he hadn’t cracked and bent Shen Yuan over a piece of furniture sooner, but eh - maybe Luo Binghe had a smidgeon more restraint than she gave him credit for. 

“Listen,” Shang Yinghua said, shoving her laptop, her tablet, her e-book reader, and her good headphones into another bag, because she had a feeling she was going to be vacating the premises for awhile. “This is potentially a stupid question to ask, because I know you, but have you and Bingbing talked? Talk-talked? Without his tongue down your throat?”

Shen Yuan went that brilliant shade of scarlet again. “O-of course,” she stuttered, crossing her arms across her chest. “You saw us this morning. Talking!” 

“Yeah, but have you talked about-” Shang Yinghua grimaced. “Feelings?” 

Shen Yuan reared back like an angry cat. “Why on earth would we need to do that?”

Shang Yinghua lit a candle in her heart for Luo Binghe. Come to think of it, the rest of the apartment was suspiciously quiet, even though Binghe had said he was jut going to tidy up a bit after breakfast. Almost on cue, there were the distinct sounds of the faucet being turned on, and the clatter of dishes. 

If Shang Yinghua had a dollar for every time she tried to tell Shen Yuan that some rando wanted to wife her,  then Shang Yinghua would have enough money to buy Mobei Jun at least ten sexy little sports cars. 

If Shang Yinghua had a dollar for every time she tried to tell Shen Yuan that Luo Binghe specifically wanted to wife her, and Shen Yuan insisted that he just saw her as a maternal/older sister figure, Shang Yinghua could’ve bought each of the companies that made those sexy little sports cars. 

“No reason,” Shang Yinghua said blithely, because there were lifelong bonds forged by years in the internet trenches, and then there was IRL Shen Yuan having her head so far up her ass that she would need spelunking gear to yank her out. Shang Yinghua was just not into that; Luo Binghe probably was. 

“Don’t do that wise, all-knowing bullshit, Submarine!” Shen Yuan yelled, stabbing a finger in Shang Yinghua’s direction. “Just tell me what you’re thinking!” 

“All right,” Shang Yinghua said, shoving her suitcase closed. “How are you feeling about this whole - situation?” 

Shen Yuan snorted and looked away. “I-” Her mouth opened and closed. “I really - I don’t know,” she said, finally. 

Shang Yinghua cocked her head. “Was the sex that bad?”

Now that she thought about it, it was practically a guarantee that the sex was bad. Luo Binghe was a virgin who’d been fantasizing about deflowering his Yuan-jie for years - who could ever live up to those outsized romantic expectations? Also, Luo Binghe had a monster dick and seemed the type to cry during sex. 

Shang Yinghua thought that Luo Binghe, being the perfectionist asshole that he was, would obsessively research every facet of how to bring a woman physical pleasure, but as Shang Yinghua herself knew, book knowledge just wasn’t the same as hands on practice.  

“We didn’t,” Shen Yuan said through gritted teeth, “do - that! Get your mind out of the gutter!!”

“What!?”

But their whole kitchen make out had radiated serious ‘morning after’ vibes! Luo Binghe practically reeked of post-coital smugness!! Why was Shang Yinghua packing up her entire life if these two morons weren’t about to fuck on every flat surface in the apartment!?

“Okay,” Shang Yinghua demanded, "no more fucking around - tell me exactly what happened last night!” 

The fight seemed to go out of Shen Yuan. “We dropped you off at Mobei Jun’s. Binghe messaged Mobei Jun, letting him know you were going to barge in, and then we took the car back to my place. It would’ve been silly for Binghe to go back to his own place so late at night, so-” 

Sometimes, Shang Yinghua understood Shen Jiu’s rabid overprotectiveness, because Shen Yuan went and said shit like that. 

“He made me drink a lot of water,” Shen Yuan grumbled, “and then we sat on the couch, and we just - talked! About ordinary things! How his studies had gone, and whether he wanted to work for his father’s company or somewhere else, and what he was thinking of cooking the next day, and if he was seeing anyone special-” 

“And?” Shang Yinghua interrupted. “What did he say to that?” 

Shen Yuan ducked her head, rubbing at one of her ears. “Why does this even matter?” she complained. “You decided on a major career change, that’s much bigger than-”

“Shen. Yuan.”

“He said.” Shen Yuan looked like she was going to pass out at any moment. “That there was. Only one person. Who was special to him. Like that. And then.” 

Shang Yinghua was going to shake Shen Yuan. “And then?” 

Shen Yuan looked haunted. “My Binghe is so bad at kissing. How is he so bad at kissing when he looks like that?? Why does he stick out his lips like that? Who taught him to use so many teeth!? Why did he think using tongue meant licking somebody’s face!?” 

Shang Yinghua really couldn’t help it. It had been a long, hard, absolutely bewildering fuckfest of a day and it wasn’t even noon. Peach Sis was so indignant, and Luo Binghe, who looked like an Adonis reborn in this mortal realm, turned out to have the kissing skills of a drooling Rottweiler. 

She laughed until she cried. 

~

“It isn’t that funny,” Shen Yuan said, for the nth time, looking so pissy and unamused that Shen Jiu would be proud. 

Shang Yinghua was still literally rolling around on the floor of her bedroom, clutching her stomach. “It is!” she hooted. “Here I was, thinking you were just coming up for air after a twelve-hour sexathon, and it turns out you had the most G-rated evening ever, because Luo! Binghe! Can’t! Kiss!” 

“He can now,” Shen Yuan said waspishly, then, “I mean - he got better, once we - uh.” 

“Oh my god,” Shang Yinghua said, managing to sit up and wipe away some of her tears. “Oh sweet baby Jesus. Just. That must’ve been the peak tutoring session of Luo Binghe’s entire life, finally getting kissing lessons from Yuan-jie. Of course he wants me to get the fuck out of here, so that Yuan-jie can teach him more. Do you want to borrow one of my pencil skirts? No, wait, your ass is too flat for them. Anyway, you should probably buy some pencil skirts.” 

“I hate you so much,” Shen Yuan said, through muffled hands. 

“What next?” Shang Yinghua said, feeling ecstatic. “How to hold hands in a movie theatre? How to neck properly? Do you think that he knows what running the bases is? Did he get a nosebleed when he saw your panties?” 

“I forgot to re-fill my humidifier!” Shen Yuan barked. “It’s very dry in here, okay!” 

“I love this,” Shang Yinghua said dreamily. So what if she had quit her job after getting smashed with her boss’ uncle/worst enemy and she would no longer get to spend 18 hours of her day in the same room as Mobei Jun’s abs and perfect face? This was comedy gold, unfolding right in front of her! It would fuel a thousand web novels! Which would actually get published! Here was living proof that there was at least a sliver of karma of justice in the universe: hot people being bad at things. This might’ve awakened a whole new kink in her. She embraced it. 

“Did you tenderly wipe the blood off his face while he stared down your shirt?” Shang Yinghua asked, because she no longer feared Death by Heavenly Peaches. Linguang Jun was her new sugar daddy; Peach Sis was old news. “Do you think he knows how to take off a bra? Or where the clit is?” 

“You know what, I rescind my offer to pay for your hotel. You can do your whole ‘And then they were roommates!’ arc with Mobei Jun, and then I’ll be the one laughing my ass off when you wake up with a rock on your finger!” 

Shang Yinghua sighed. “See, the difference between you and me is that I can distinguish between fiction and non-fiction. In all the years I’ve had sleepovers at Mobei Jun’s, no one has been walked in on naked, not even once. Whereas Luo Binghe most certainly has multiple albums devoted to planning your wedding.” 

“He does not-” 

There was a knock at the door. “Yuan-jie?” Luo Binghe’s muffled voice came from the other side of the door. “I made tea and cookies.” 

Shen Yuan sighed. “That sounds lovely, Binghe.” 

Then Luo Binghe walked in, still in that apron, with dust flouring his cheek, his face flushed from the heat of the kitchen, etc, etc. Shang Yinghua filled in the rest with “porn for the female gaze,” as Shen Yuan lifted a little almond cookie to her mouth and said tenderly, “Binghe didn’t have to,” while Binghe said, equally tenderly, “It’s my pleasure, Yuan-jie,” because they were just. Absolutely disgusting. Yuck. Barf. 

“Lifting the tray at eyebrow level,” Shang Yinghua said, taking her own cookie. It was still warm, the tops glazed a shiny golden brown from egg yolk and brown sugar, and it had the perfect crumble to it. 

“Why are you quoting classical idioms?” Shen Yuan asked. 

“Oh, no reason,” Shang Yinghua said. “No reason at all for me to think of sayings related to beloved spouses treating each other like honoured guests. My brain just does weird things sometimes.”

And Luo Binghe, because he was a crazy asshole who did not understand the concept of Mutually Assured Destruction as a deterrent, looked at her point blank and asked, “Did Shang-jie remember that she’s engaged to Mobei Jun?” 

Chapter Text

“Hahaha,” Shang Yinghua said, staring at Luo Binghe. “Sorry, I could’ve sworn I passed out for a minute there. Say that again?” 

“Shang-jie is engaged to Mobei Jun,” Luo Binghe said, already sounding bored. And then, judgementally: “How much did you drink last night?” 

Shang Yinghua looked to Peach Sis for help, but Peach Sis’ mouth just kept opening and closing, like a goldfish.

“I don’t know how to say this to you, Bing-bro,” Shang Yinghua said, “but you are wrong, you are very wrong, there is no way I would’ve forgotten Mobei Jun proposing-” 

“It sounds like you proposed to him,” Luo Binghe said, arms crossed. In his apron and with that stern, unimpressed look on his pretty face, he looked like a Home Ec teacher who had just caught one of his students microwaving a glow stick. “That’s what he messaged last night, anyway.” 

“And what,” Shen Yuan croaked, finally gathering her wits enough to speak, “did Binghe say in response?” 

“Congratulations?”

Shang Yinghua stood up from the bed, shoved Shen Yuan out of the way, and started rifling through one of her desk drawers.  

“Hey!” Shen Yuan said, looking annoyed as she clutched her cup of tea. “What-” 

“My passport,” Shang Yinghua said, distracted. “It’s gotta to be here somewhere, right? Or wait, if I’m fleeing the country, I’ll need a new one. My mom knows some guys who know some guys in Macau -  I could pull off working at a casino, right? How hard can it be to become a blackjack dealer?” 

“She’s in shock,” Shen Yuan said to Luo Binghe, as if Shang Yinghua wasn’t thinking the most clearly she had in ages. Her mind was racing. Sending her whole life up in flames was exactly the kind of drama that her mother fully supported. Maybe she’d follow even more in her mother’s footsteps and pick up a high-rolling godfather to fund her lifestyle and protect her from the attack dogs that Mobei Jun would surely send after her. She could start wearing an eyepatch, or get some plastic surgery to change her face - she’d never had a problem with her eyelid folds or how plump her lips were, but the sky was the limit, baby! Or rather, the limit was her new godfather’s wallet! 

“Submarine,”  Shen Yuan sighed, and Shang Yinghua realised she was clutching her passport to her chest and trying to remember how to say Hello, my name is Shang Yinghua in Portuguese. No wait, she’d probably have to change her name, scratch that. 

“You’re not fleeing the country,” Shen Yuan said. “You have a book deal here, remember?” 

Oh… yeah. 

Shang Yinghua sat down on her bed, hard. And then she burst into tears. 

Shang Yinghua would describe herself as an opportunistic crier. It wasn’t that she never got sad. She got sad, okay! She got sad, and then she ate too much, and then she wrapped herself in a blanket and had a nap and usually by the time she groggily came to, the world seemed less dire. If it was still dire, then she would pound out twenty thousand words about a dude who bore a passing resemblance to her shitty boyfriend from secondary school, except he had a microdick that got ripped off by furious pixies, and that usually cheered her up enough to keep going. 

The honest truth was that someone like her, with mediocre innate ability, really couldn’t make it in this dogshit world without well-developed tear glands. Shang Yinghua lived by this wise credo: “If you’re so mad you could cry, just cry. It terrifies everybody.” People got dumb and panicky and uncomfortable around crying women, and Shang Yinghua weaponized this because she had zero shame. Peach Sis could pour all her energy into maintaining her constant poser facade; Shang Yinghua didn’t have time for that. 

So when Shang Yinghua found herself crying for real, it was always a surprise, even to her. 

This wasn’t, like, performative crying. No, Shang Yinghua was crying because it had been a hard fucking day, just one of many in a hard fucking life. If she looked back at the last five years with any sort of clarity, it was depressing to total up how many eighty-hour work weeks she had poured into a career, a company, and a man that she wasn’t even romantically involved with. 

She had married her job because marrying the man was out of the question, and all it took was the catnip high of landing a book deal and half a dozen fruity cocktails for her to burn it all to the ground. Because she was a lightweight. Because she could not stop chugging the dumb bitch juice. Because she was a heartsick loser. Because she was an absolute fucking moron. 

“Hey,” Luo Binghe said, crouching in front of her. 

Peach Sis had vacated the premises, because she was exactly the kind of person who got dumb and panicky and uncomfortable around crying women.

Luo Binghe, that other masterful crier, was looking at her seriously, without those little seething hints of resentment and jealousy that usually peppered his expression when he looked at her. Most of the time, she enjoyed those seething hints, because not very deep down, she was a bad person. 

She knew Luo Binghe would understand this because not very deep down, he was also a bad person. He understood that Peach Sis, despite the fact that she was spiritually an old man building Gundam models in her boxers, was way too good for him. 

Sometimes Shang Yinghua hated how much she empathized with Luo Binghe. 

Then Luo Binghe asked, “Do you want hand-pulled noodles?” 

~

The noodles were heavenly. 

~

As Luo Binghe stashed a jar of homemade chilli oil into her fridge, Shang Yinghua reflected that there were definite benefits to looking so pathetic that people felt compelled to feed you. Binghe made hand-pulled noodles, an entire roast duck redolent with star anise and sherry, gai lan smothered with black garlic, and deep-fried kropek that blossomed into airy discs of deliciousness. 

Sure, she had to suffer through the sight of Luo Binghe and Shen Yuan piling food into each other’s bowls, and it was total garbage vomit-inducing dog food, but she was feeling almost benevolent towards them at this moment.  

“You should unpack your stuff,” Shen Yuan said, once Shang Yinghua had polished off her first bowl and started on her second. “I told Binghe to let Mobei Jun know that you needed some time to think about things, and that you would reach out to him when you were ready, and not a second before.” 

Coming from Peach Sis, that was downright… sweet. 

“So I ruined your sexcation, huh?” she asked, just to bask in the way Peach Sis squawked.

~

Shang Yinghua helped Luo Binghe wash up over dinner. It was weirdly soothing, just standing next to him, drying dishes and putting them away while he hummed “My Heart is That Eternal Rose,” because he was a parody of himself. 

He had made little mango coconut puddings for dessert, but Shang Yinghua heard herself say, “You know what, I think I’m craving gelato. From that fancy place that opened up by the train station.” 

Luo Binghe gave her a suspicious glance. “That’s a half-hour walk from here.”

“Yeah,” Shang Yinghua said. “So that’s at least an hour that I’ll be out of the apartment. Maybe longer, if I can’t make up my mind which flavours to get.” 

She watched Luo Binghe’s brain freeze as the possibilities of unchaperoned time with Yuan-jie washed over him. 

“And Bing-bro, can I just give you a word of advice? Don’t just like, cram it all in there, y’know? Because it is not fun to have your cervix smashed. Take it from me, a cervix-haver.” She reached up to pat Luo Binghe’s shoulder, treasuring the absolutely shookened look on his face. “You got this, little buddy! I mean, big buddy. Anatomically uncomfortable for most sexual partners buddy. I believe in you!” 

~

Not five minutes after she left the apartment, Peach Sis messaged her: Submarine, what did you say to Binghe? He’s crying and saying something about not wanting to destroy my cervix!?!?  

Shang Yinghua messaged back, You’re welcome, bro! and turned her phone to silent so Peach Sis couldn’t call and yell at her. 

Her gelato was getting cold, so she flagged a cab - but she couldn’t go back to the apartment yet, because she’d promised Luo Binghe an hour. 

So she gave the driver another address, instead. 

And once she got there, it seemed silly not to climb out of the cab, and silly not to just go to the apartment where she’d woken up that morning. 

And when Mobei Jun opened the door for her, the slant of his eyebrows giving away his surprise, it seemed silly not to walk right in. 

~

Shang Yinghua fidgeted in her chair as Mobei Jun scooped out gelato into a white bowl, and silently passed it to her before making up a bowl for himself. 

She ate at the kitchen table, kicking her feet. The mint stracciatella was good - cool and refreshing, with little flecks of dark chocolate. It was strange, though, to sit at the kitchen table. Usually they ate at the coffee table, takeout containers interspersed with paperwork while the news played in the background (Mobei Jun’s choice) or the latest trashy costume drama (Shang Yinghua’s). 

But this way, sitting at the kitchen table across from each other, it felt as formal as a business meeting. Mobei Jun was still in his glasses and the same clothes he’d been wearing at brunch, his face in its default “remote and distant as a wintry mountaintop” state. 

Meanwhile, Shang Yinghua realised that she was currently wearing: 

- an oversized black hoodie that she might’ve stolen from Mobei Jun three years ago 

- Hamtaro basketball shorts she’s had since she was fifteen 

- underwear that had come in a three-pack 

- white tube socks with a hole in the left heel 

- knock off Adidas slides 

- a distinct lack of dignity 

- end of list. 

“My king?” she asked, once her spoon scraped the bottom of her bowl. 

“Hn?” 

“Can we-” 

The words wouldn't escape her throat. Why was it so easy to write about some willowy cultivator hit with a sex pollen of the week, begging his demon lover to put his [redacted] [redacted] inside of his [redacted] [redacted], and yet she couldn’t ask Mobei Jun for the simplest thing?

She shook her head, and stood up. Her legs were trembling but fuck it, Shang Yinghua had always been a coward - she just had never let it stop her from doing what needed to be done. She tugged at Mobei Jun’s shirt until he stood up as well and (she could do this, she could, if she just didn’t think about it) she tugged at his hand as well, until they were sitting on the couch, beside each other. 

She closed her eyes. “My king, just give me a minute to… just give me a minute.” 

Mobei Jun was still silent which was - good. He hadn’t thrown her out of his apartment for her audacity so maybe something could still be salvaged from the wreckage. 

She drew up her bare legs and tucked them underneath her, and then she let herself do what she’d longed to do - oh, at least a thousand times before. Maybe a thousand times a thousand. 

She leaned into Mobei Jun’s side. 

She felt him stiffen, then relax, so she forced her muscles to relax too. Let her head drift to the side so she could rest her cheek against Mobei Jun’s shoulder. Let one of her hands reach up, and fist in his shirt. 

She wanted to laugh at herself, for the difficulty of each incremental movement, when it was all so… vanilla. 

She fanned out her fingers and let out a tiny sigh. Mobei Jun really had such a nice chest. It was practically a crime that the social expectation was for him to cover it up with fabric, every single day. 

His heart was beating hard. 

“My king?” 

“Hn?” Mobei Jun had drifted closer as well. He was nosing, very lightly, at her curls, and Shang Yinghua did her best not to implode. 

“Can we just… stay like this? For a little while?”

Everything had been so chaotic, and Mobei Jun was part and parcel of that chaos, but - it felt good, like this. Soothing. It made the noise and hurricane of her brain go still. 

“Hn,” Mobei Jun said.

~ 

It was a humid, sweltering day. The kind of day when Shang Yinghua just wanted to strip down to her skin and run ice cubes over her pulse points, and sleep until the coolness of evening returned. 

But luckily for her, she was clinging like an octopus to a giant popsicle. Blue flavour, because blue was objectively the best flavour. She gave it a lick and cried happy tears at the cool deliciousness on her tongue. The popsicle grunted, which made her giggle - whoever heard of a grunting popsicle? She licked it some more, and sighed as cool rivulets of meltwater flowered over her chin, her neck, her breasts. 

“Shang Yinghua,” the giant popsicle said, sounding strained as it tried to escape. She pinned it down more firmly with her thighs because sorry not sorry, giant popsicle! Shang Yinghua had needs! 

Speaking of which, the giant popsicle felt really nice between her legs. Just the perfect, pleasant firmness to grind against. The giant popsicle groaned, and she hummed, and then the giant popsicle grabbed her ass - hot! And put her on her back - double hot!!! 

Since when did a giant popsicle have hands? 

And that was when Shang Yinghua woke up. 

Mobei Jun loomed over her, his hand on the back of her thigh, looking like he was about two seconds away from snapping. His neck was covered in spit and teeth marks, and yup - Shang Yinghua was going straight to hell.  

“Oh,” Shang Yinghua’s dumb mouth said. “That was a horny dream.”

~

When Mobei Jun was nineteen, on the tenth anniversary of his parents’ deaths, he got disastrously drunk. 

The evening started at a hotel bar where he threw down enough cash for the bartender not to care about his age, and ended at Shen Yuan and Shang Yinghua’s apartment, his head in Shang Yinghua’s lap, with a cool can of beer pressed to his sweaty forehead. In other words: bliss. 

“Shang Yinghua,” he mumbled. 

“Hmm?” she said, barely paying attention as she clacked away on her laptop, and he had to tug at her wrists until she looked down at him. Her hair had been tied back into two buns that seemed like they had been styled by a six-year-old, adding to the overall impression of hamster-ness, along with her round, freckled cheeks and golden-brown eyes. Her brown hair curled and clung to her neck, in the humidity. 

“Shang Yinghua,” he said. He never slurred when he was drunk, just spoke slowly and precisely. “You’re not allowed to leave.” 

Her mouth quirked into a smile. “Who are you, Luo Binghe? It’s bad form to get so attached to your tutor.” 

Mobei Jun didn’t need a tutor, not really. But he liked sitting across a library table with Shang Yinghua once a week while she muttered to herself and they both did homework. He liked interrupting her once in a while to ask her a question about his financial accounting class, and to listen to her rambling answers. He liked watching her peck at a graphic calculator with one hand while she wrote notes in a fluid, loping scrawl with her other hand. He liked counting up the blue ink smudges that would gather on the tips of her fingers, the side of her thumb, her cheeks, and her forehead when she absently pushed her bangs out of the way. 

Sometimes, he pretended that he wasn’t paying her, and that she just liked hanging out with him.

Mobei Jun closed his eyes. “I’m not anything like Luo Binghe,” he said.

Because Luo Binghe at least had the assurance that his Yuan-jie had doted on him, and worried about him, and wanted him to be happy. Half the time, Mobei Jun wasn’t sure if Shang Yinghua remembered he existed when he wasn’t right in front of her. She was always scurrying off with something to do, somewhere to be, something to write, someone to spend time with who wasn’t Mobei Jun. Most of the time, she was hanging out with Shen Yuan, but she had other friends too - that med student Mu Qingfang who she went drinking with after class, or that tattooed “Wei-ge” who ran a noodle shop and had a pet pangolin, and whom Shang Yinghua flirted with shamelessly. 

 “Thank goodness for that,” Shang Yinghua said, sounding reflective. “One Luo Binghe is bad enough - can you imagine two?” 

“Two would be insufferable,” Mobei Jun said, and was blessed with one of Shang Yinghua’s grins, which were rarely directed at him. “But I’m serious. Shang Yinghua isn’t allowed to leave.” 

The expression on her face softened, and it was unbearable - how much he liked it, how much it woke in him a hunger that he never wanted to acknowledge. It was wrapped up in sex, but it wasn’t just about sex, necessarily - it was just this animal need to keep her close and stop her from ever running away. 

It was stupid, because it was impossible to hold onto people. To keep them in any way that truly mattered. 

“Where is this coming from?” Shang Yinghua asked. “What do you want me to say, my king - I’ll follow you for the rest of my life?” 

“Yes,” Mobei Jun said. 

He wanted her to say it. He wanted her to mean it. He wanted her to make that promise and keep it because she wanted to, not because he’d bound her to an oath. 

“You’re a needy drunk,” Shang Yinghua said, sounding amused, pushing some of his hair back from his forehead. “It’s cute. The gap moe, I mean.” 

“Say it,” Mobei Jun insisted. 

“All right,” Shang Yinghua said, exactly as if she was humouring a child, but her eyes were warm, teasing. “I’ll follow my king for the rest of my life. Happy?”

“Yes,” Mobei Jun said, burying his face in her lap once more. Shang Yinghua made him, in a word, happy. 

That was the last time that Mobei Jun let himself drink that much. 

~

Mobei Jun was looming.

Looming over her while she was pinned to his couch, her wrists held tightly in his grasp, his eyes red-rimmed as he looked down at her, his face shadowed. 

Shang Yinghua was sure she’d had this exact wet dream before. 

“Um,” she said, her tongue thick and dumb in her mouth. She tried to wriggle free, but his weight settled on her more firmly and whoa, that didn’t feel like a giant popsicle in Mobei Jun’s pants, nope! “Er, excuse me, I’m just gonna-” 

“Shang Yinghua,” he said, his face suddenly so close to hers that their noses were brushing, “stop running away from this.” 

Then he kissed her. 

And it turned out that he was a lot better at it than Luo Binghe.

~

 Shang Yinghua made the sweetest sounds. She was so soft, everywhere that he touched her - her mouth, the side of her throat, the delicate skin of her inner wrists, her waist. Her thighs squeezed around him and he had to fight off a sudden, overwhelming surge of arousal, as if he was a teenager all over again, discovering how often he could come in a single night by thinking about burying his face between Shang Yinghua’s breasts. 

“My king,” Shang Yinghua whimpered, her small hands tugging at his shirt. He sat back and obliged her, gratified by the way that Shang Yinghua watched the slide of each button, until he could take off his shirt and his undershirt in one go. 

“Wow,” she breathed, laying both hands on his chest. And then she said, quite seriously, “My king, you really spoil me.” 

I haven’t done anything yet, Mobei Jun was going to say, but the words died in his throat as he watched Shang Yinghua slide out of her sweater. Her breasts were as perfect as he remembered, and it was a revelation for his tongue to finally meet them. They were sweeter than the gelato, than anything he’d ever tasted. He licked and stroked her breasts with his fingers and his palms and the sides of his thumbs and Shang Yinghua said, sounding light-headed and half-joking, “If you’re not careful, I might come just from this-” 

He bit delicately at one nipple.  

Shang Yinghua shrieked. She yanked at his hair, pulling him off of her chest. “My king!” she said, red-faced, indignant, her chest heaving, looking exquisitely bullied. “You can’t just-!” 

“You didn’t like it?”

“It’s not that I didn’t like it, it’s just that-” 

He did it again. 

~

Shang Yinghua wriggled out of her shorts at some point, and by the time that he pulled down her underwear, her thighs and her cunt were deliciously slick and the smell of her was. Pure heaven. 

“Finally,” he breathed. 

“What do you mean, ‘finally-” 

He sank his tongue into her. Shang Yinghua stopped talking for a while, after that.

~

“How are you so good at this,” Shang Yinghua whimpered, shivering and clinging to his shoulders as he thrust his slicked up fingers into her, again and again. She was so warm and wet and clinging and perfect, perfect, and Mobei Jun could pass the rest of his night just like that, just fucking Shang Yinghua with his fingers and watching her shatter sweetly, over and over. He liked the way she babbled, the way she called for him, the way he could make her lose her words. 

“Shang Yinghua,” he said, “do you want to know a secret?” 

She moaned. He took this for a yes. 

He placed his mouth against the shell-like curve of her ear, and said, “I read your novels, Great Master Submarine.” 

“You-!” 

He withdrew his fingers, just far enough so that he could circle her clit with her own slick. 

“This is unfair,” Shang Yinghua complained, even as she writhed on his fingers. “This is - cruel and unusual and -  nnngh - do that again - just like that - just - like - that -” 

~

They moved to his bedroom at some point, and he stopped to admire the picture that Shang Yinghua made: dewy with sweat, lying on her stomach, the curve of her spine sinuous and perfect as she clutched a pillow to her chest and stared at him. She looked bewildered and happy and thoroughly debauched. 

He was still touching her - he couldn’t stop touching her, couldn’t stop tracing the lines of her hips, her thighs. Beautiful. Just beautiful. 

“My king,” she said, wetting her lips. “Did we actually - did I really propose to you?” 

It seemed funny, now. It had seemed less funny this morning, when Shang Yinghua woke up and it became obvious that she remembered nothing she’d said to him the night before. He’d reacted childishly; he could see that now. 

“Yes,” he said, not bothering to hide his amusement. “You charged into my apartment, sat in my lap, and demanded that I marry you.” 

Shang Yinghua bolted upright. “I did not!” 

“Ah,” he said, as if just remembering. “Yes, you’re correct - that wasn’t quite the order of events. You sat in my lap, and first you announced that you were quitting, because you had hit the jackpot.” 

“No,” Shang Yinghua said, looking horrified. 

“And then…” This part was less funny. “You said you would miss me.” That part had hurt, actually. Still hurt, in some formless, aching way, a bruise that had just started healing. “And then you offered a rather sensible solution.” 

“Oh no,” Shang Yinghua whispered. 

He nodded, sagely. “How did you put it?” he asked the ceiling, as if every single one of her words wasn’t burned into his mind. “You said that I should take responsibility, since I had spoiled you for ordinary men. And that we should get married, so that even if you quit working for me, you could still see me everyday. Or see my abs, at least.” 

Shang Yinghua actually dragged the covers up over her head. He could hear her muffled wailing. It was adorable. 

He adored her. 

He gathered the bundle of Shang Yinghua-and-blanket into his lap, and maneuvered her so that she could hide her face in his chest. 

“And then,” he said, running his hand up and down her back, “you said it was illegal, how hot I looked in glasses.” 

“I want to diiiiiiiiiiiie,” Shang Yinghua wailed into his chest. Then, “Wait.” She poked her head out of the blankets. Her hair was tousled, and the look on her face was delightfully suspicious. “Is that why you started wearing your glasses all the time?” 

He made his face carefully blank. “I’m not wearing them right now.” 

She tugged at his ear, and it startled him into looking at her. “You know what I mean!” 

“Shang Yinghua,” he said. Her rosebud mouth was curled into the most delicious frown; he kissed her lightly, twice, thrice, until it melted away, and then he said, “I would do much more foolish things for you to want me.” 

She shifted in his lap, which produced a predictable biological reaction, even though he’d come while eating her out for the - had it been the second? Or the third time? It was all blurring into a filthy haze. 

“You don’t have to do anything for me to - want you,” Shang Yinghua mumbled, burying her face in his chest again. She seemed to enjoy doing that. “Just you existing - does a lot for me.” 

“… It’s the same with me,” he said. 

The blanket slid a little, from her shoulders. She didn’t bother pulling it back up. 

“I had no idea that you-” Shang Yinghua stopped. It seemed easier for her to speak like this, when she wasn’t looking directly at his face. And it felt good to have her cheek and her ear pressed against his bare skin, like she was listening to his heart, hearing the words beneath his words. “For me. At all. When did you…?” 

He played with a strand of her hair, and it curled around his fingers, clinging. Shang Yinghua was a warm, comforting weight on his lap, and she wasn’t going anywhere.

“You were wearing this sweatshirt,” he said quietly into her hair, wondering how this had all suddenly become so easy, giving all of his secrets away to Shang Yinghua, like they were offerings at a shrine. “You cut off the neck of it, and the bottom. You spilled coffee all over yourself, and you took off your sweatshirt, and - well.”  

Shang Yinghua seemed to mull over this and - 

“Are you talking about the first time we met?” 

Mobei Jun nosed around in her hair. Maybe he still had some pride left. 

“Was it?” he said, mildly. “Hm.” 

“Mobei Jun!” she sat up, and grabbed his face between her hands. “If you felt like that, then - then why didn’t you ever say anything?” 

He felt his amusement trickling away. He gave himself time to think by shifting her hand so he could kiss her palm. 

“In every one of your novels,” he said, “there’s a tall, dark man with blue eyes.” 

She froze. 

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” he asked, even though he had the inkling of an answer. 

Her hands fell away from his face, and she sat back. 

“You’re my boss,” she mumbled. “That’s just - it’s fine in stories, but real life is - way more complicated. And we’ve known each other for forever, so if anything was going to happen, it would have happened already, and - look, you own a mirror.” 

“And?”

“And I-” she gestured at her body. Gloriously naked, soft and plump and perfect all over, with curves that he would happily die on, or under, or against - he was getting distracted. “Look, the first five years I worked for you, I spent half my pay check digging my dad out of his debts, because he’s a moron who doesn’t know how to quit-” 

“Mm-hmm.” Mobei Jun knew. It was part of why her job offer had a ridiculously generous salary for an entry-level position. HR hadn’t been happy about it, but if Mobei Jun couldn’t abuse his power to make sure Shang Yinghua had a living wage while supporting her family, then what was the point of inheriting a company at all? 

“And my mom is an absolute chaos demon who keeps making disastrous romantic decisions, like no sane man would ever want her for a mother-in-law-” 

“Mm-hmm.” He knew that too. He’d been quietly running profile checks on the men who courted Shang Yinghua’s mother for years. 

“And I write danmei for fun! Absolute filth like you wouldn’t believe, like skewering upon skewering where no props, position, or locations are ever repeated! And sure, feelings develop during the skewering, but-”

“Great Master, I told you I’ve read your works.” 

“I am a coward,” Shang Yinghua said, poking at his chest with a finger. “A total reprobate. An absolute bitch. Like smile to your face, stab you in the back. And I’m a pervert, and a liar, and a rat, and a lazy thief, and - I have zero sense of literary integrity, I’m depraved and shameless and-” 

“Yes,” Mobei Jun said, drawing her closer. “I am aware of Shang Yinghua’s many excellent qualities.” 

Shang Yinghua shook and shook in his arms. Mobei Jun kept stroking her back, until he felt her relax again. 

“My king?” she said, poking her head up, finally. Her eyes and nose were charmingly red. 

“Yes?” 

“… I’d like to ride your dick now.” 

 “Hngh,” Mobei Jun said, before he cleared his throat and said, hoarsely, “Yes. All right. Yes.” 

~

Shang Yinghua was an absolute vision above him, her hands planted on his chest, her magnificent breasts right in his face - sixteen-year-old Mobei Jun would’ve withered like a mummy under the onslaught. She slid onto his cock with honey-like slowness, the look of concentration on her face blooming into sheer pleasure. 

“Oh,” Shang Yinghua whispered, almost to herself, “oh, I am absolutely a size queen.” 

I could’ve told you that, Mobei Jun wanted to say tartly -  again, he had read each one of her novels, and made careful notes, which he wanted to quiz her about assiduously - but he was too busy trying not to immediately come at the sensation of being half-buried in Shang Yinghua. He gripped her hips, probably too hard, but Shang Yinguha didn’t seem to mind, if the way she was rocking back and forth against him was any indication. 

“Oh,” she whimpered, “oh, my king, you feel really good on my - please just let me-” 

“Do whatever you like,” he wheezed, and Shang Yinghua kept sliding against the length of his cock, fucking herself on him like he was just a toy or a pillow that she was using to get herself off, because Great Master Submarine was a blessing, a menace, a world-destroyer, a succubus scurrying around in a sensible skirt, and he wasn’t even fully inside of her yet. 

“You’re way too trusting,” Shang Yinghua said, a laugh trembling in her voice, even as she started rocking faster, her breasts fairly bouncing. He craned his head up to lick them and she squeaked, so he did it again, and then again. “We should really, um - make some lists, and - have some healthy conversation, and - oh, oh fuck, my king, I think I’m gonna - on your - fuck, fuck that feels good - ah, ah-”  

“Yes,” he said, and then, “yes,” and then, “yes,” and then “yes,” and then “yes.” 

~

Anyway, they fucked some more after that. 

~

Shang Yinghua woke up cuddling Mobei Jun’s arm between her breasts. 

He wasn’t reading, this time. Instead, he was just looking at her, wearing nothing but a bedsheet around his hips and his glasses. Shang Yinghua might as well have been living in a porn universe of her own making. 

“Good morning,” he said, but the way he said it made it seem like he was saying something else. 

She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “Good morning.” 

He reached out to stroke her hair, and she basked in the sensation. Then he paused. 

“I have something for you,” he said, getting up from the bed, and, because she was a classy lady, she took the time to admire his ass. 

He came back to bed with four velvet boxes that were just the right dimensions to be - 

“No fucking way,” whispered Shang Yinghua. Her scalp felt tingly and numb. “When did you-?” 

Mobei Jun cleared his throat and stared at the wall behind her. “One a year,” he said. “Since I was twenty.” 

She opened them, one by one. 

An Asscher cut emerald. A rose-coloured diamond. A pigeon blood ruby. And a gleaming cat’s eye chrysoberyl that reminded her exactly of Mobei Jun’s eyes. The loose gems glittered in their plush white nests, a veritable king’s ransom on his bed. 

“I didn’t know which you’d prefer,” Mobei Jun said, still not quite looking at her. “And I thought you’d want to decide the setting. And the band.” 

Shang Yinghua closed each box carefully, and put them on the bedside table. 

“Shang Yinghua?” Mobei Jun. His gaze finally met hers. 

She climbed into his lap, and pressed her ear against his chest. His arms came up around her, hesitantly. 

“My king,” she said. “Forgive me the presumption, but - I think I really like you. An awful lot.” 

“Hn,” Mobei Jun said, his arms tightening around her. “That’s acceptable.” 

Chapter Text

Shang Yinghua was having the best business meeting of her life. 

It was the best because she was on her fourth flute of champagne on a rooftop pool, with Shen Yuan complaining next to her as Linguang Jun went through the revised contract with a highlighter.  

Mobei Jun and Luo Binghe were off to one side of the pool, arguing about wedding plans. Luo Binghe jabbed his finger at a tablet and Mobei Jun made a gesture like he was trying not to push Luo Binghe into the pool. 

All in all, life was pretty great. 

~ 

“… And of course,” Linguang Jun was saying, “Great Master will get final approval on all the illustrations.” 

“Including bonus merch?” Shen Yuan asked with a frown. “And what about the editions that are translated into other languages - does she get to review the portfolios of prospective illustrators?”  

Linguang Jun’s genial smile froze on his face. Shen Yuan glance over at Submarine, like Can you believe this guy?  But Shang Yinghua was looking over at Mobei Jun in that glazed over way which meant she was thinking about peeling off his shirt with her teeth, or something depraved like that. 

Binghe had actually asked her for something similar the other day. Well, maybe “begged” was the more accurate term. He had been on his knees while she tried on this new cream-coloured linen dress Jiu-jie had sent her, and one thing led to another and- 

Linguang Jun rebooted and said, “Let me make a quick call to our office in France, and…” 

~ 

“You’re insane,” Luo Binghe seethed. “Can’t you see that that shade of periwinkle doesn’t go with Shang-jie’s skin tone at all?”

I’ll help plan your wedding! Luo Binghe had said. Shang-jie will be so busy wrapping up things at work, this will make things easier for her! And it will be good practice for me and Yuan-jie! 

Mobei Jun had unwittingly invited a demon into his life. And his name was Luo Binghe, Wedding Planner. 

“Fine,” Mobei Jun said, “you pick the shade of blue.” 

“So what, now you don’t have an opinion at all?” 

“Well,” Mobei Jun said through gritted teeth, “you called my last four opinions ‘utter trash’, so.” 

Linguang Jun hung up from his business call, and shot Mobei Jun a nasty look. He went back to Shang Yinghua and said, audibly, “Great Master, are you sure you want to marry my nephew? I know a very good matchmaker-” 

~ 

“I’m not saying that it appeals to me personally,” Shen Yuan said, her voice laced with scorn. “I’m just saying I could see how other people would find the rich, handsome silver fox type appealing. It’s about experience and charm, and the fantasy of being wooed and taken care of-”  

“Hey Bing-sheep!” Shang Yinghua hollered. “Your wife wants to fuck Mobei Jun’s uncle!” 

~ 

“How old are you, ah?” Yuan-jie scolded, but her hands were gentle as she dried Binghe’s hair with a towel. “You know better than to be baited by Shang Yinghua.” 

Luo Binghe rolled the dice, and put his hands on Yuan-jie’s hips, but lightly. She was wearing the white swimsuit that he had picked out for her, the one with the coy little cut outs that revealed flashes of her moon-pale skin. Maybe he could convince her that she needed another layer of sunscreen? She did burn rather easily… 

Yuan-jie was looking at him meaningfully, so Binghe mentally circled back to the earlier point in their conversation before he got distracted.

“She was spreading slander about Yuan-jie,” Binghe said, picking up the thread of his argument, and Yuan-jie tweaked his ear in that way that meant he’d been bad but not really bad, like not bad enough to be punished bad. It was okay. He had time to work up to that.  

“You were giving Mobei Jun a hard time,” Yuan-jie chided. “You know she’s protective of him.” 

Protective - that was a new one. He looked at Mobei Jun, who was now sitting in the chair next to Shang Yinghua’s lounger. Linguang Jun had been sitting there, but he had gotten all huffy after Binghe pushed him into the pool, as if he couldn’t handle a little chlorine. 

Shang Yinghua was telling some story to Mobei Jun, her shoulders shaking with laughter. To an outsider, Mobei Jun may have looked indifferent, but Luo Binghe knew better. 

Yuan-jie clucked. “We should wash your hair when we get home,” she said. “I worry about what the damage from all of these chemicals.” 

Luo Binghe beamed. If she washed his hair, then he could offer to wash hers, and that could be parlayed into a bath, and a bath offered - oh, a veritable feast of opportunities. 

“Yes, Yuan-jie!” 

He really was the luckiest man in the whole world. 

~ 

“No, honestly,” Shang Yinghua said, fighting through her laughter. “This is one of the few things I remember from that night! Peach Sis described Binghe’s dad as ‘very daddy’.” 

Mobei Jun’s face twisted, lemon-sour. 

“Why,” he asked, “have you cursed me with this knowledge?” 

“Because we’re going out to dinner with him tomorrow,” Shang Yinghua said, still laughing. “And I need you to be just as haunted by this, I can’t go through it alone-” 

~ 

Tianlang Jun had symmetrical features and probably embodied some idealized body proportions. Beyond that, Mobei Jun didn’t really see the appeal himself. 

While introductions were going around the banquet table, Shang Yinghua crooked her finger at Mobei Jun. He leaned down, and she had the audacity to breathe one word into his ear:

“Daddy.” 

Mobei Jun’s chopsticks splintered in his hand. 

~ 

“It’s such a pleasure to finally meet Binghe’s friends!” Tianglang Jun said, beaming at them all. “Binghe has told me so much about you!” 

“Lies,” Binghe said, stabbing a shark fin dumpling. 

“Well,” Tianlang Jun said, unfazed, “more like my nephew Zhuzhi Lang has been very scrupulous in his reports on his monthly meetings with the lovely Shen Yuan! Hahaha!” 

Shen Yuan looked horrified. “Xizhi Lang - I mean, Zhuzhi Lang is your nephew? He’s Binghe’s cousin?” 

“Yuan-jie, what does that man mean by ‘monthly meetings’?” 

“Binghe, I’ve told you about Xizhi Lang, remember? He’s my friend who is also into herpetology. We visit the zoo together about once a month, and-” 

“I love this,” Shang Yinghua said, sipping on the silver needle tea that Mobei Jun had poured for her. She was not talking about the tea. 

“And you, Great Master Submarine!” Tianglang Jun’s showman smile morphed into something more genuine. “It is the pleasure of my life to finally meet you. Can I beg you for the honour of signing my books?” 

And he pulled out a veritable stack of lovingly handbound novels. 

Shang Yinghua stared. Tianlang Jun held out a silver fountain pen to her with both hands, his tail practically wagging. 

“I take it,” she said faintly, accepting the pen, “that you’re. A fan?” 

“I’m your biggest fan,” Tianlang Jun gushed. “I’ve been following your work since The Chrysanthemum Blossoms in the Embrace of Eternity! I wish I’d known you were looking to get into print publishing, or else I would have approached you sooner and-” 

“Tianlang Jun,” said Linguang Jun darkly, materializing in the banquet room like some sort of ice demon with assassination powers. “Are you trying to poach my author?” 

Tianlang Jun sniffed. “As Great Master Submarine’s biggest fan, I am just trying to express my appreciation of her-”

“Yuan-jie, were you dating my cousin while I was abroad!?” 

“Binghe, they weren’t dates! We just had very good chats about the snake exhibits, and sometimes we would get ice cream, and-” 

“Those sound like dates!” 

“I’m sorry, I must be losing my hearing in my old age, because I could have sworn you said you were Great Master Submarine’s biggest fan. Which is impossible, because I am her biggest fan. So much so that I acquired a publishing house in order to-” 

Shen Yuan broke off from her argument with Luo Binghe to stare at Tianlang Jun and Linguang Jun. “Are you guys serious? I’m Submarine’s number one fan.” 

Everyone at the table stared at her. 

“What?” Shen Yuan said hotly. "Do you think I comment on every single chapter of works that I don’t like? Yeah, all the land mines and useless red herrings and gratuitous sex scenes and build up for characters that never appear drove me up the wall, but only because the core of Submarine’s novels have so much potential-” 

“Daughter-in-law, I have to say that I’m surprised you’re such a fan of Great Master Submarine. I thought you’d be more upset that she based Path of the Arrogant Heavenly Cultivator on you and my son.” 

“That she. That. What.” 

“Isn’t it obvious? The young, innocent disciple taken in by the distant, elegant teacher who secretly lusts for him? The teacher, stirred by forbidden desire for his disciple, acts particularly cruel and scathing, making the innocent disciple work even harder to earn his affection, not knowing that he has had it all along! The delicate longing! The misunderstandings! The Shakespearean irony! The-”

“What do you mean ‘delicate longing’? The idiots in that book actively pine for each other while fucking each other’s brains out for 800 chapters! What about any of that seems like it was based on me and Binghe!? Submarine, don’t you DARE try to weasel out of this, you-”

“Peach Sis, Peach is  - I’m just a little guy, it’s my birthday, don’t hurt me-!”

“It is NOT your birthday! Get out from under the table!” 

“NOT IN THE FACE, we’re taking wedding photos in like ONE WEEK-”

“BINGHE HIRED YOU AN EXCELLENT MAKE UP ARTIST-”

“HEY REMEMBER THAT TIME YOU SAID BINGHE’S DAD WAS VERY DADDY!?”  

“Hello,” said a slender, gentle-looking young man. He was wearing an emerald green tie with a subtle pattern that shimmered like scales, and holding a box of cakes. “Apologies for my lateness, but I am Zhuzhi Lang, the nephew of the honourable Tianlang Jun who invited you all here today.” 

Dead silence. 

Then chaos. 

~ 

“That was the best pre-wedding present ever,” Shang Yinghua remarked afterwards, eating a crepe with Mobei Jun. They had managed to slip out while Luo Binghe was trying to put Zhuhzi Lang into a headlock, and even without Peach Sis’ uncouth threats of violence, Shang Yinghua would’ve figured it was high time to skedaddle, because she really did like the pipa roast duck at that restaurant, and didn’t want to be blacklisted. 

Now, they were just strolling together in a park, Shang Yinghua stopping every once in a while to take pictures of a particularly scenic bridge or a plum tree with its petals drifting down just so, for inspiration and reference. Maybe she took a couple pictures with her and Mobei Jun, and who could blame her? She was just a little guy. It was her birthday. She could take some goopy couple pictures, and nothing, not even Peach Sis’ most judgemental and withering stares, could stop her. 

“Hn,” Mobei Jun said. He was holding her hand. The hottest man in the world was holding her hand, in public, and she was never, ever going to stop bragging about it. “Shang Yinghua thrives amidst such chaos.” 

“Don’t I just?” 

“They were all wrong, though.” 

“Hmm?” 

He lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed a kiss across her fingertips. His breath lingered on that cat’s eye chrysoberyl, now surrounded by tiny diamonds cut like frost flowers, and housed on a silver band. 

And Mobei Jun said, “I am Great Master Submarine’s biggest fan.” 

“… Huh,” Shang Yinghua said. “My king, are you familiar with the concept of ‘starfucking’?”