Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

He can’t stop pacing.

It had started out as an attempt to ease the itch under his skin, to soothe the burn of pain in his chest, to fill the emptiness he feels now that his Shizun is out of his reach again, but when movement alone hadn’t worked, the steps had turned mechanical.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been since his Shizun left him. Less than an hour, he assumes, but his mind is too foggy to tell for sure.

He’ll come back. Eventually. He had said he would, and if Shizun said he needed time, Luo Binghe would respect his wishes.

After what Luo Binghe had done, this was the least he could do to prove himself.

A large part of the half-demon wants to go after Shen Qingqiu—Shen Yuan, he had said—track him down, kneel at his feet, and beg his Shizun to forgive him and come back.

But his Shizun hadn’t wanted that, so Binghe won’t give in to his desire.

He just wishes he could understand more clearly. His Shizun had explained the “System” to him before, but only vaguely. And after the events that had transpired—an hour? two hours? ago, he only finds himself more confused.

If this System is a god, it’s like no god he has ever heard of. At best, an invisible one watching from the sidelines—at worst, something lurking malignantly in his Shizun’s head. Hurting him.

Luo Binghe’s hands clench into white-knuckled fists at the memory of his Shizun struggling to speak, to breathe, those bright eyes going dull and unfocused.

He had been afraid then, more than he had been in years.

The half-demon had worried that sending such a large burst of energy into the comparatively frail human body would be too much, particularly when paired with a rush of demon blood to his Shizun’s head, but when his Shizun had gripped his robes, his fear entirely forgotten in the face of this new presence, Luo Binghe had…well, he doesn’t really know what he’d done.

He had just focused his anger on the entity that was daring to hurt his Shizun, reached for it until he found what felt like humming threads under his mental fingers, and yanked.

He had rarely felt so relieved to hear his Shizun’s voice, altered as it was by his new body.

…his new body.

A shiver of hurt runs down the half-demon’s spine. 

Six years, he had said.

It had been ten since they parted ways. Eight since Shen Qingqiu had been murdered.

The pendant tucked away in a pocket feels suddenly heavier. Liu Qingge must have kept it on his person for years, and Luo Binghe had never known that the hand over the Peak Lord’s chest had been protective of more than just Liu Qingge himself. All that time, he had been guarding one of the last pieces of Shen Qingqiu.

Luo Binghe feels sick at the reminder, wondering how long it had taken for his Shizun’s warmth to fade from the guanyin after the Bai Zhan Peak Lord tucked it hurriedly into his sleeve, struggling futilely to keep Shen Qingqiu alive.

It had taken the Qing Jing Peak Lord under ten minutes to succumb to his wounds, according to Liu Qingge. If the blood loss hadn’t taken him first, the venom certainly would have done the job. And even if neither of those had killed him, his pulverized ribcage, twisted neck, and missing arm would have presented a massive challenge even to Mu Qingfang.

Mu Qingfang. Had he known when Shang Qinghua had revived Shen Qingqiu? He must have. The Qian Cao Peak Lord is a smart man, and if he really had helped, there were only so many lies Shang Qinghua could spin until Mu Qingfang figured out the former identity of the plant body's new resident.

Had it really taken two years? Of course, the Sun and Moon Dew Flower Seed took time to mature, and Luo Binghe knew this—he had found it in his research years ago, but discovered the blossoms underneath Bailu Mountain long dead and trampled. By whom, Luo Binghe still doesn’t know. It doesn’t seem like Shang Qinghua’s style, after all. Perhaps the Palace. He wouldn’t put anything past them. He knows better.

No wonder Shang Qinghua had been so preoccupied when Luo Binghe returned from the Abyss to demand answers from the Peak Lords. The worried muttering and distraction—he had been trying to get Shen Qingqiu back even then. Everyone had assumed it was just the stress of losing a Peak Lord and redirecting the usual duties to other peaks that was driving the An Ding Peak Lord crazy.

Everyone except Mobei-jun. It had been a surprise when the ice demon volunteered—demanded, really—to help Luo Binghe track down Shen Qingqiu’s killers, but Luo Binghe knows how fond of Shang Qinghua the ice demon is. If the An Ding Peak Lord had been that distressed, it was unsurprising that Mobei-ju would react as he had.

The two Peak Lords must have been good friends even then. Shang Qinghua must not have dealt well.

Luo Binghe has never particularly liked the An Ding Peak Lord, but knowing what he had done for Shen Qingqiu does give the half-demon a grudging respect for the man.

His Shizun is safe, at least, and that’s what really matters. Shang Qinghua and Mu Qingfang had seen to it.

Mu Qingfang. He had been thinking about the healer before, hadn’t he?

Luo Binghe’s footsteps halt abruptly as he massages his temples, trying to clear his head. He can’t think straight. Everything is wrong. But there are things he needs to do, he just needs to remember.

His duties won’t wait around for him to straighten out his problems. He needs to remember them. He needs…

A memory breaks through his chaotic thoughts. A memory from before the Abyss, before he had become Emperor.

Many years ago, his Shizun had told him that the purpose of becoming strong was to protect others, and Luo Binghe had taken the words to heart.

If he cannot protect his Shizun, he must still protect his people, including the afflicted demons. He needs to ensure that Mu Qingfang has everything he needs. There will be more to repair—including selecting a suitable, example-setting punishment for Xing Tian, of course, and dealing with Yu Hao—but there’s an immediate need to fill, and that takes priority for now.

One thing at a time.

He changes his robes first, movements automatic. Washes the last drops of blood from his chest. Rearranges his hair with his favorite hairpiece, one that Ning Yingying had given him—and stops, remembering.

He needs to apologize. She deserves that much and more after he turned on her as he did.

If his Shizun had forgiven Gongyi Xiao enough to welcome the other man into his home and offer him a safe place to live, then Luo Binghe must forgive him too. Somehow. And if Ning Yingying had protected the former Huan Hua disciple, then Luo Binghe will let it go.

The Emperor doesn’t take Xin Mo with him, despite silencing it completely after the debacle that had been the confrontation on Qing Jing Peak. He has other methods of getting from place to place that don’t require him to use the sword’s power, and he doesn’t want to feel its energy any time soon.

Disciples scatter again when he appears in the middle of the peak, but he ignores them.

Luo Binghe takes a deep breath and knocks, praying that she won’t be too angry with him. He would deserve it, of course, but it might be enough to finally break him.

Hearing her voice inviting him in is a relief. Having to search for her would be…an undesirable outcome.

He would have gone looking for her, if he had to. But this makes things just a little easier.

Ning Yingying freezes when she sees him in the doorway, and Luo Binghe’s stomach twists.

The Peak Lord had put on a brave front when Luo Binghe had snapped at her, but he had heard the undercurrent of fear in her voice then and he can see the hesitancy in her posture now.

He closes the door behind him, and Ning Yingying stiffens slightly.

“Emperor Luo.” Her intonation is carefully neutral. Evaluating. “What can I do for you?”

The half-demon shakes his head. “This Luo Binghe is not here to give orders, Ning Yingying. I only came to apologize properly.” 

And with that, he drops to one knee, bowing his head without even hesitating.

For anyone else, this would have been too much. The Emperor is not supposed to kneel for his subjects, after all. It would lower him too far in the eyes of the people, strip away a layer of the strength he needs to project at all times.

But Ning Yingying is Ning Yingying, and in truth, Ning Yingying is his best and only close friend. In the same way that he would do anything for his Shizun, he would do (almost) anything for her.

That includes humbling himself again.

“My behavior earlier was inexcusable. I should have listened patiently, but I did not. I lost my temper, and I nearly hurt you.”

And Xin Mo had wanted to do just that: hurt Ning Yingying. If Liu Qingge hadn’t produced the pendant when he had…he doesn’t even want to think about what might have happened.

“I’m so sorry, Ning Yingying. If you are angry with me, I will accept that without protest. I only ask that you would eventually forgive me, if you determine that I am worth forgiving.”

He hears her robes swish softly as she stands.

Luo Binghe doesn’t move yet, determined not to scare her like he had scared his Shizun.

Elegant boots enter his field of vision, and Ning Yingying sighs. “Luo Binghe,” she says quietly, and then her robes pool on the floor as she sits down in front of him.

“Are you alright?”

He blinks, confused. Isn’t she supposed to be furious with him? She has never gotten angry in the past, but then again, he has never wronged her to such an extent before.

“…I…” he says, knocked off balance.

Fingertips under his chin bring his head up to look at her, and he only sees honest concern in her dark eyes. “I felt Xin Mo’s killing intent earlier. I was worried…it was very defined. I know that it can…” Ning Yingying’s brow furrows, searching for the words. “I was there after you destroyed Huan Hua Palace—it took hours for you to get full control of your mind again even after you locked yourself in your room.”

There’s pain in her voice, but tenderness in her hand as she cups his cheek. 

“I know A-Luo is the strongest. But Xin Mo is strong too. I understand that its power is difficult to overcome.”

“It is,” the half-demon replies hesitantly. “But that does not excuse me for losing control.”

Ning Yingying exhales softly. “No, it doesn’t.” She meets his eyes, and he prepares himself for the harsh words that could very well be coming. He’s used to cruelty, but if it came from Ning Yingying, it might actually hurt.

“But since that’s the reason you’re here, I should ask…are you planning on imprisoning Gongyi Xiao again?”

Luo Binghe shakes his head.

“Are you planning on threatening Liu-shishu again?”

He shakes his head a second time.

“Did you mean to lose your temper like you did?”

He doesn’t even hesitate. “No. I was angry, but I would never…never hurt you intentionally.”

She gives him a soft smile. “Then you are forgiven.”

It’s too easy. It can’t be that easy. It’s too kind a response. It’s too…it’s too much. He can’t take it. He’s still destabilized—weak, even, and he cannot afford to let kindness knock him off balance but somehow it has.

It reminds him of his Shizun before the Abyss, and that makes his eyes burn.

He would be so proud of her.

He must be so proud of her.

“I see that you mean it, so I accept your apology, Luo Binghe.”

He doesn’t relax. He can’t, and Ning Yingying seems to notice, her smile falling as she reaches out to him. “Binghe, stand up, please.” She mirrors him as he rises, worry in her eyes again when she cups his face. “Binghe, what’s on your mind?”

She forgave him so…quickly.

But then again, what he had done to her wasn’t really on the level of what he had done to his Shizun, was it.

“I made a mistake, Yingying.”

Her lips part at his strained tone, and one gentle hand guides his head down onto her shoulder, and though it’s as delicate-looking as the rest of her, he can feel the carefully cultivated muscle and the quiet strength she has spent so long building up.

“I made a lot of mistakes.”

Her embrace doesn’t loosen when he begins to shake in her arms, unable to hold back his emotions any longer.

“You were right. Shizun would be so disappointed in me,” he chokes out finally.

“Ah,” Ning Yingying says softly, understanding in her voice. “If he were still here, I do not think that Shizun would not be so angry with you, A-Luo. He knew you weren’t perfect.” 

The half-demon’s throat closes, and he struggles to breathe for a brief, terrifying moment.

“But what if he were…afraid of me, Yingying?” He can’t manage more than a strained whisper through his emptied lungs. “What would I do then?”

Ning Yingying falters only a little, and for a second Luo Binghe wonders if she, too, knew of their Shizun’s…rebirth. But he discards the thought, not for a lack of importance, but a lack of impact. Whether she had known or not, it was not his place to ask, or to be angry.

“If Shizun were afraid of you,” she replies thoughtfully, “you would have to show him that you can be trusted.” Her hands stroke across his back, calming and slow. “But it would take time, and sometimes, you would just have to wait.”

“I don’t want to wait,” he mumbles into her robes, feeling childish but too heartsick to care.

“I know, A-Luo. But sometimes you just have to.”

She allows him to stay quietly in her arms until he finally pulls back, burying his pain in his chest for the time being, and lets Ning Yingying reach up and dry his eyes with her sleeve, patient as ever.

In another world, one where he didn’t have feelings for his Shizun, Luo Binghe might have ended up asking her to marry him. But if Shen Qingqiu had not played such a large part in both of their lives, he gets the feeling that she would never have matured as far as she had, wise and strong despite her youth—the closest thing he had to a true sibling, really.

It’s not that he doesn’t love her, just that he doesn’t love her in the way he loves his Shizun.

Breaking through his tangled thoughts, Ning Yingying squeezes his shoulder reassuringly, rising on her toes to place a light kiss on his cheek.

“It’ll be alright, A-Luo. And should you need anything, I’ll come if you send for me.”

She gives him an encouraging smile, and Luo Binghe returns a faint one of his own.

“You’re too good to me, you know.” The sentence comes out quiet but painfully earnest, and the Qing Jing Peak Lord pokes him gently in the chest, a subtle but steadying burst of qi flowing into his meridians from the point of contact. 

“Someone has to make sure that you take care of yourself, Luo Binghe. You deserve to be loved, and it’s my job to make sure you don’t forget it.” She pats his chest, right over his heart. 

“Apologize to Liu-shishu, and be reasonable with Gongyi Xiao. Listen to him. Just take care of your subjects like you always do and always have. If you put the work in, things will work themselves out.” She taps his chest again, face stern. “But if my contacts tell me you’re not eating or sleeping again, I will come smack some sense into you with my fan.”

He manages a chuckle at the mock threat, then stoops briefly to return her kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Yingying. For everything.”

She gives him one last, fond smile as he exits, and the crushing pressure in his chest eases at the kindness in her eyes.

Luo Binghe walks all the way to Qian Cao alone, feeling Cang Qiong’s typical peace settling into him, calming as it wraps around him and sinks into his lungs, a reminder of how it felt to be here day after day before his power began to weigh on him.

It still feels good to visit the Sect where he spent his adolescence, but it isn’t his home anymore—not without his Shizun.

Mu Qingfang is as serene as ever when he greets the Demon Lord, and Luo Binghe finds himself appreciating the man’s steady demeanor even more than usual.

There’s still a small part of him that wants to take Mu Qingfang by the front of the robes and shake him until the healer discloses how long he had known, how long he had kept the other Peak Lord’s secret from Luo Binghe.

But he won’t do that. He can’t.

Luo Binghe folds his hands instead, meeting Mu Qingfang’s eyes. “What do you need?”

Shen Yuan wakes up tired for the second time in as many days. There’s a painful ache in his legs and head, but when the transmigrator tries to raise a hand to rub his temple, he gives up almost immediately at the low throb of agony in his arm.

“You okay?”

Shen Yuan blinks exhaustedly up at Shang Qinghua’s face hovering above him. “No,” he slurs, perhaps a little over-dramatically, and closes his eyes again.

Warmth rushes into his abdomen, along with a gentle weight pressing into his torso. With effort, Shen Yuan opens his eyelids again, glancing down to where the author’s hand lies flat on his chest.

“Ow.”

“You really have a way with words, bro,” Shang Qinghua responds, but there’s a strain in his smile that makes Shen Yuan lift one arm laboriously to pat his hand.

“Stop worrying,” he rasps. “I’m just tired. Nothing I can’t recover from.”

The other transmigrator gives him a look. “So you’re telling me that you’re still in pain?”

Shen Yuan raises a finger—or tries to, at least. “I never said that.”

“Uh-huh, sure. Where does it hurt?”

Shen Yuan deflates a little at the concern in Shang Qinghua’s voice. “Head. Left leg. Luo…Luo Binghe took care of pretty much everything else. It just aches now.”

The mention of the Emperor makes Airplane’s eyebrows do a weird wiggle. “Uh, okay. Do you just need spiritual energy, or…?”

The other transmigrator nods, placing one hand on the ground and levering himself up. Shang Qinghua’s hands are on his biceps almost immediately, propping Shen Yuan up. The blanket falls loosely around Shen Yuan’s shoulders and he sways slightly, still drained.

“Careful, bro. You don’t…you don’t look so good.”

He probably doesn’t, but after everything that had happened yesterday, Shen Yuan thinks he has a pretty good excuse for the dull throbbing in his head and the deep-seated ache in his heart.

Something pokes his chest and he glances down, managing a thin smile when Da Qing’s large, slit-pupiled eyes peer up at him, the kitten’s back arching as he kneads his paws into the human’s stomach, yawning.

Shang Qinghua pats him on the shoulder, and he looks back up, realizing that his headache has ebbed thanks to the donated qi.

“Thank you,” he says automatically, and Airplane gives him a muted grin, searching his face for something that Shen Yuan can’t identify.

“Are you feeling better now?”

“Mostly, yeah.” Shen Yuan scrubs a hand across his face, trying (and failing) to focus. “Just…a lot to process from yesterday.”

Images flicker through his brain and he shivers reflexively.

The author’s brow furrows worriedly. “Do you…um, do you mind telling me what happened? So I can try and help with…” he gestures vaguely at Shen Yuan’s hunched body. “…with whatever you’re going through right now? I mean, it’s fine if you don’t, I just…I want to help. If I can. If you want me t—”

He shuts up when Shen Yuan tips his forehead onto Shang Qinghua’s shoulder. 

“Qinghua,” Shen Yuan groans, voice cracking around the syllables, and the author’s arms come up around him, patting gently.

“Take your time, A-Yuan. Only when you’re ready. If you can’t right now, that’s fine.”

Shang Qinghua smells like paper and cold and something extra that reminds Shen Yuan a lot of Mobei-jun—probably traces of the ice demon asserting his claim over the oblivious human earlier, if the bite mark was any indication—and for some reason that thought makes his eyes sting oddly, clogging his throat.

He breathes in and out as evenly as he can, trying to clear his mind.

It’s just…the fear, the confusion, the relief, the things Luo Binghe had confessed to him…it’s a lot. And maybe not something he should dump on Shang Qinghua all at once, either; the man has his own problems. Most of which are also Airplane’s fault, but no one’s perfect and Shen Yuan is hardly one to judge. Especially after everything Shang Qinghua had done for him.

Okay. Deep breath. Talking things out is supposed to help, right?

“He—Luo Binghe—he knows who I am. Was. About Shen Qingqiu. And I thought…” Shen Yuan swallows shakily. “Gods, I thought he was really going to do it, for a while, because he seemed so angry.”

The arms around him tighten a little.

“Obviously I’m still intact, but…but that’s not even the part I’m confused about.”

Shen Yuan takes a shuddering breath, a flush of confused shame warming his cheeks. He shouldn’t be this affected, right? He’d escaped getting his limbs yanked off, for fuck’s sake! He should be happy, shouldn’t he?

The image of Luo Binghe sitting alone and lonely in a cold, empty palace rises unbidden in his mind, and Shen Yuan squeezes his eyes shut to try and forget how the half-demon had looked on his knees, in tears, because the transmigrator really doesn’t feel ready to face that yet.

The transmigrator doesn’t realize that he’s finally crying until he feels Da Qing worming his way up through his clothes, nuzzling his shoulder. The kitten’s fur is damp, he notices—Shang Qinghua’s robes too.

Shen Yuan pulls back a few inches, letting Da Qing crawl into his hand as a tiny sandpaper tongue tickles the underside of his jaw.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, though he isn’t exactly sure what for. “I don’t—I just…”

Shang Qinghua rubs his back. “Hey, no need to apologize. It’s not your fault, bro. You can…you can cry if you want, there’s no shame in it.”

The words are kind, but they set off the itch underneath his skin, making Shen Yuan bury his face in Shang Qinghua’s robes again when his eyes start stinging.

“It’s okay,” Shang Qinghua murmurs to him. “You’re allowed to feel things.”

Da Qing mews quietly and Shen Yuan rubs his trembling fingers through his pet’s cloud of fur. A purr rumbles underneath his hand and he feels a surge of safe, protect, calm run through him.

He clenches his other hand in Shang Qinghua’s robes to keep it from shaking, and stifles his sobs in the other man’s shoulder until the pain in his heart gradually softens, blending into the general exhaustion in his body.

It takes him a minute to get up the motivation to draw back, hand dropping from his friend’s front to pull the blanket up around him, finally conscious of the cold floor underneath his layer of cushioning.

Airplane gives a sympathetic look when he grimaces, readjusting his protesting knees. “No rush, bro. I’m here if you need anything.”

Unfortunately, Shen Yuan is pretty sure that the one thing Shang Qinghua can’t provide is the thing he really needs. The story has deviated too much for either of them to predict.

Not to mention what Luo Binghe knew now, about Shen Yuan and about the System. That…he didn’t have a clue where that was going to go; he hadn’t heard anything from it since it had almost killed him again. And while the radio silence was a relief on its own, it made him nervous. From experience, the System is probably gearing up for something bad. After all, it had decided to activate when he needed to save Luo Binghe after years of silence, and then just thrown him into the other man’s dream to do…that.

Needless to say, his experience with the System isn’t great.

But that can wait. As long as it doesn’t suddenly activate again, he can handle it. One thing at a time.

…maybe starting with his throat, which is still painfully tight from his earlier breakdown.

“Qinghua,” he says quietly, and the author is instantly attentive. “Would you mind making some tea?”

Shang Qinghua pats him lightly, barely pausing to scratch the kitten under the chin before he stands. “Of course, bro. As long as that tiny troublemaker of yours doesn’t get hair in it again,” he adds, mock-glaring at Da Qing, who yawns contentedly at him from Shen Yuan’s lap.

A slight smile tugs at the transmigrator’s lips as he leans back against the wall, closing his eyes to feel the warmth of the blanket and the tickle of the fur under his hands.

He can make this work. It will all be fine.

He hopes.

...okay, so maybe his inner monologue isn’t the most optimistic right now, but he’s still midway through the “processing” stage, so ideally things will get better from here.

Da Qing’s nose pokes his jaw and Shen Yuan can’t help a chuckle at the tickling sensation. The kitten’s purring takes on an almost smug edge and the transmigrator scratches behind Da Qing’s ear until the cat’s eyes close.

“Who’s adorable?” He coos softly, and Da Qing’s tails furl and unfurl in a very self-satisfied manner along with a proud meow that makes Shen Yuan laugh again. “At least you aren’t lacking for self-esteem, little one.” 

He manages to lever himself up from his sitting position to limp over to his low table, plopping himself down and wrapping his blanket around his shoulders again.

The author re-emerges a minute later bearing two cups, seating himself across from Shen Yuan. Shang Qinghua pushes one cup over to the other man. “Would you like anything else?”

Shen Yuan shakes his head, taking a long sip. “This is enough.” He stares down into the tea. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Shang Qinghua replies, giving him a small smile before they lapse into a calm, if not happy, silence that doesn’t really do anything for Shen Yuan’s buzzing head.

“Okay,” he says finally, running a hand through Da Qing’s fur to calm himself. A small nose presses into his palm and Shen Yuan scratches absentmindedly behind the cat’s ears, making the kitten purr and stretch languidly.

“Okay?”

If anyone can help him figure out what the fuck happened earlier, it’s Shang Qinghua. And honestly, who else would he even talk to about this?

“You should probably put your tea down,” he warns, and the other transmigrator’s eyes narrow.

“Oookay,” Shang Qinghua replies, setting his cup on the table.

Shen Yuan takes a deep breath. Okay. Rip off the bandaid.

“LuoBinghetoldmehelovesme,” Shen Yuan says in a rush.

Airplane chokes on thin air.

“He what now?”

A breathy, incredulous laugh leaves Shen Yuan’s lips. “I know. That’s how I felt too, only fucking terrified.”

Shang Qinghua glances down at his cup, then up at the other man, then back down to his tea.

“That’s some…big news,” he manages, and Shen Yuan chuckles, feeling a tiny bit of hysteria welling up in him again.

It’s surreal, in a way. Like when you dream of falling and then snap awake, confused and disoriented.

“Alright. Okay. So Luo Binghe admits he’s crushing on you. And you said…?”

Shen Yuan sobers. “To be honest, I kinda…blanked out for a couple minutes. Because, well…” he makes a vague gesture in the air that should be incomprehensible, but Shang Qinghua nods intently, and Shen Yuan internally rejoices that they’re still on the same wavelength.

“And when I finally got my feet back under me—figuratively and literally, because I almost passed out—no, it was actually the System, don’t look so nervous—bro, I didn’t say ‘look even more scared,’ stop that—I told him that I needed space and…” Shen Yuan rubs his cheek, wincing at the memory. “I…kind of told him to stay away from me?”

And there had been a very tearful apology in there too, but not Shen Yuan’s.

Shen Yuan lets his head tip (gently) onto Da Qing. “Ah fuck.”

…oh, that had probably hurt Binghe, hadn’t it.

Airplane pats his shoulder again. “Something else you want to tell me about?”

He shakes his head. “Maybe later,” he says, muffled in soft fur. After binging whatever new series of novels he could get his hands on to take his mind off things, probably. Or crying again. Maybe both. Jury’s out.

“Okay, take your time.” The other man’s robes rustle, probably drinking his tea, and Shen Yuan drags his head back up, stroking Da Qing’s belly when the kitten rolls onto his back, kneading at the human’s cheek with his front paws.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but, well…” Shang Qinghua swirls his cup lightly. “You two were always close, and all the rumors about how you ‘lost your soul’ weren’t baseless, you know. And you dropped everything and came as soon as I told you he might die, after all those years trying to avoid him.”

The author’s eyes are thoughtful. “I just mean…if Luo Binghe loves you…do you, uh…love him back?”

Shen Yuan opens his mouth to tell the other man how ridiculous that is, but then shuts it again. Sure, he had always had a soft spot for the half-demon, and Luo Binghe was unfairly hot (objectively speaking)—so he had that going for him, and sure, Shen Yuan might have got a fluttery feeling in his stomach when Luo Binghe had kept him from falling in the ante-chamber, and sure, Shen Yuan would give his life for the half-demon if it came down to it, but that was just—it wasn’t like he could just ignore the fear he had felt in the Emperor’s presence!

…when he had thought that Luo Binghe was planning to torture him, that is.

Which was apparently not what the Heavenly Demon wanted at all.

Still, you don’t just get over a fear you’ve had in the back of your mind for years after just one talk, whether or not you had…deeper feelings than you might have thought. Feelings you didn’t really want to think about either, not right now.

“I…I’m not sure I can answer that yet.” Shen Yuan pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why do emotions have to be so hard,” he sighs. “That stupid System dream was easier than this.”

Across the table, Shang Qinghua goes a little pale. “Yeah, I was…wondering about that. Before. Uh…I thought you said that the System had turned off?”

Shen Yuan groans at the reminder. “It had. For years! Gone! Out of my hair! But as soon as you abandoned me in Luo Binghe’s bed,” he glares for effect, “it turned back on.”

Shang Qinghua ignores the accusation and leans forward, whispering, “So it’s in your head right now?”

“Not really,” Shen Yuan says slowly. “It’s not responding to anything after…oh.”

Right.

“Oh?”

It must have been him.

“It reacted…badly to me telling the Emperor about it—though to be fair I was under a lot of pressure—but I think he…broke the System? Somehow? Or turned it off. Like…a major shutdown, at least.” 

He takes a fortifying gulp of tea.

“So I guess I should say thank you again,” Shen Yuan says quietly, and Shang Qinghua gives him a confused look.

“For…?”

“For making Binghe so stupidly OP.”

Shang Qinghua’s jaw actually drops open. “Supreme critic Peerless Cucumber thanking me for plot holes? Do I need to check you for possession? Or, like…a serious concussion? Shit, I should have done that earlier.” He raises a hand. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Shen Yuan rolls his eyes and bats his friend’s hand down. “Shut up and let me have my double standards, dumbass.” He picks up his cup, taking a light sip that soothes his still-raw throat. “Anyway, I told him my pre-novel name and said I would tell him the rest later, so there’s also…that.”

The author’s eyebrows rise. “Putting all the cards on the table, huh.”

Shen Yuan shrugs. “If this…if we do end up…spending time together, I want him to know. And if he rejects me because of it…” he coughs lightly against the sudden tightness in his chest. “…then that’s just how it’s going to go.” Even if it hurts to think about it, even after everything he had gone through and everything he had thought was true. “My past is part of me, and so is my name.”

Shang Qinghua nods silently, supportively, and Shen Yuan has a sudden thought.

“Hey, I’ve never actually asked for your old name,” he realizes, turning his head guiltily towards Airplane, who shrugs, looking almost…embarrassed.

“It’s not super important, is it? It’s not me anymore, really. It’s not—um, it’s in the past.”

The author doesn’t meet Shen Yuan’s eyes, and a strangely painful thought flickers to life in the transmigrator’s mind.

“You haven’t…forgotten it, have you?”

Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky fiddles with his sleeves, still not making eye contact. “I—that’s not—”

He deflates then, shoulders hunching defensively. “There are…gaps in my memory,” the author mumbles quietly. “They just…kept getting worse until one day, I wake up and realize I’m missing what, a decade and a half of my old life? And I know it’s the absolute stupidest, hardest thing to forget, because it’s my name—or was, anyway…but it’s just been—it’s been decades, for me. I guess I’m just…integrating fully into Shang Qinghua’s body. And the neural connections aren’t—aren’t programmed right to remember things this body hasn’t experienced. Or—or something. Science is weird here! So I’m…yeah.” He shifts uncomfortably, ducking his head.

“I’ve been Shang Qinghua for a really, really long time now. It’s the thing keeping me alive, to be honest. My past self…the only thing my past self is good for now is knowing so much about this world, and even I forget bits of it sometimes. Like…” He looks down at his hands. “I guess there just wasn’t all that much tethering me to my old life.”

His forehead wrinkles bemusedly. “Pretty pathetic, now that I think about it.” His lip twists bitterly. “Matches the rest of me.”

Shen Yuan frowns, leaning forward. “Hey, hey, none of that. Remember what we talked about?”

The other transmigrator fidgets. “I have value,” he repeats reluctantly at his hands. “I’m not worthless.”

“Damn right,” Shen Yuan says firmly. “Just because you’re forgetting things doesn’t detract from you as a person.”

Airplane puts his chin on his hands, looking morose. “I know, it’s just…I don’t know.” He looks up with a guilty expression. “Sorry bro. I’m supposed to be taking care of you, and here I am, not doing a very good job at it.”

“Dude,” Shen Yuan replies, leaning forward to smack the other transmigrator lightly with the nearest book. “I’d be a total mess right now if it weren’t for you. Plus, what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t check in with you too?”

Shang Qinghua smiles back at him. “Still my best friend, bro.”

“Sap,” Shen Yuan snorts fondly, ignoring the way his eyes are getting watery again. He pats the spot next to him. “Come over here and complain to me about your own problems for a change.” 

His eyes gleam as they flick down to Shang Qinghua’s collar. “Like that mark on your neck. Did Mobei-jun finally snap and, uh…” He makes a suggestive gesture, and Shang Qinghua goes bright red. “Do I need to threaten to set him on fire or something if he breaks your heart?”

Shang Qinghua huffs defensively and plops himself down next to Shen Yuan, stealing a corner of his blanket.

“I—that’s—n-nothing like that! He just got all huffy after you left to see the Emperor and…I don’t know! Bit me! How am I supposed to know what’s going on in that perfect head sometimes, ah??”

The other transmigrator gesticulates enthusiastically as he embarks on a lengthy rant about his favorite topic, Mobei-jun, and the tension slowly eases from Shen Yuan’s shoulders.

Whatever feelings Luo Binghe has for him, and whatever feelings Shen Yuan might have in return, he can handle them. Eventually.

He just…needs a little time to recover before he talks to his ex-disciple again.

Luo Binghe doesn’t feel prepared when he sees his Shizun. It’s much earlier than he had expected—only eleven days after their disaster of a talk, and the half-demon has managed to restrain every urge to show up on the human’s doorstep and plead with the man to at least let Binghe stay by his side for a little while.

It hadn’t exactly been easy, though. But Luo Binghe would move heaven and earth for the one he loves, so he keeps a tight hold on his emotions when he enters the ward with Mu Qingfang and is met with ‘Qu Yuan’ seated on the edge of a bed, holding two fingers to the occupant’s wrist.

He can’t stop his hands from clenching briefly at his sides. His Shizun had been drained and exhausted to the point of collapse less than two weeks ago—he shouldn’t be giving out his qi again so soon after going through such an ordeal. It makes Luo Binghe worry even though he understands that it is his Shizun’s choice to help Mu Qingfang and his patients.

He also understands that he needs to keep appropriate distance.

But Ning Yingying was right. Sometimes, you just need to wait. So wait he will.

He almost—almost—breaks when the human’s head turns towards him, eyes widening slightly at the sight of the Emperor and the Qian Cao Peak Lord entering the ward.

“Esteemed Emperor, Peak Lord Mu, I apologize, I—”

Luo Binghe holds up a hand and his Shizun cuts off instantly. He can hear the human's pulse speed up slightly, and pain blossoms behind his thorax. He doesn’t want to see his Shizun’s fear ever again, or pick up that undercurrent of nervousness in his scent.

There are far more pleasant smells he would prefer on his Shizun.

“No need for apologies,” he says instead, softening his voice as much as possible. It doesn’t matter that Mu Qingfang is there. Only Shen—Yuan, and Shen Yuan deserves only his gentleness and respect.

The Peak Lord is looking between them with a blank expression—one Luo Binghe recognizes as carefully practiced. “Qu Yuan has been helping test treatments for the afflicted. We hope to find a less…draining one to prevent more deaths. Of course, if Qu Yuan needs to rest, this one hopes it would be acceptable to Emperor Luo if Qu Yuan is absent during—”

“It’s alright, Peak Lord Mu. This subordinate will do his best not to get in the way.”

Luo Binghe’s jaw clenches at the use of “this subordinate” but he doesn’t correct it, however much he wants to.

The healer freezes for a moment before folding his hands, face as serene as ever. “Very well.”

He then continues his report of Qian Cao’s efforts over the past few days, and Luo Binghe forces himself to keep his eyes on Mu Qingfang rather than his Shizun, who is still sitting quietly on the edge of the bed, fingers moving carefully over various points on the patient’s body to distribute new qi.

The sight of his Shizun draining himself again frustrates the half-demon to no end, but Luo Binghe manages to drag his gaze away every time it wanders.

It will be a long recovery process for the affected demons, Mu Qingfang explains. Even if he manages to find a reliable cure, there will likely be more deaths and possibly permanent damage, as Bi Yun had suffered after her spiritual veins had been burnt out. Fortunately, most of the disease’s victims are still alive—forty-one had been infected over the course of the past months, and apart from Bi Yun, who has recovered entirely, twenty-seven are currently comatose, but hopefully recoverable. The Qian Cao Peak Lord has some ideas, one of which ‘Qu Yuan’ is testing. If these ideas work, the comatose demons should hopefully recover with only mild effects.

It’s a relief to hear, even for a battle-hardened Heavenly Demon. To have his subjects dying under his care, unable to do anything to help them…it would be frustrating at best.

Of course, the only certainty in this situation is that there won’t be any more new cases. Not after the time Luo Binghe, Mu Qingfang, and a team of Qian Cao's best had spent purging Yu Hao’s residence, the locations where the human had left his unused traps, and the small, out-of-the-way building he had used to curate the spore-bearing plants he’d been using. Luckily for every demon in the general vicinity, the human had been careful to make it leak-proof, lest anyone track the cases back to his base of operations. And since Yu Hao hadn’t wanted to risk any other human lives, there was no chance of accomplices picking up his work. Another relief.

Yu Hao himself had been quite compliant with Luo Binghe’s questioning once he’d woken up. Or more accurately, when the Demon Lord had dragged him out of unconsciousness and given the man an offer he could hardly refuse. In the end, he hadn’t even needed to torture the human.

…well, not much, anyway. A little pain could go a long way in proving how Luo Binghe would deal with any attempts to mislead him.

In the end, the only person really losing out was Xing Tian, along with a select few other demons who had overstepped their orders. But Luo Binghe strongly believed in setting a good example for the consequences of different behavior, both for the rewards of good and the punishments of bad. Once he was finished, no one would dare repeat Xing Tian's mistakes.

Unfortunately, Yu Hao had not produced any sort of cure to the disease he had designed, so that task was left primarily to Mu Qingfang and his team, though they’ve been tackling it with impressive skill.

The healer is usually tired but optimistic whenever Luo Binghe checks in, though there’s a slight stiffness in the Peak Lord’s bearing this time, and the Emperor has a strong feeling that it’s related to the presence of ‘Qu Yuan.’

But the other human doesn’t break into their conversation, his movements quick but sure in the corner of Luo Binghe’s vision. He does look up once, quickly turning away when the half-demon’s head swivels (a careless mistake, and one Luo Binghe would be sure not to repeat).

The meeting is short. Partly because there hasn’t been much progress over the past two days, and partly because Mu Qingfang is more concise than usual—a great feat for a man who specializes in delivering large amounts of information in short, simple reports. In fact, that skill makes it generally easier just to meet face to face—it takes less time than having to go through all the paperwork that most reports require, which is why Luo Binghe came at all.

The Emperor is prepared to leave as soon as the healer’s list of necessary information is over, commending Mu Qingfang on his hard work and assuring him that his resource needs will be met.

He isn’t quite prepared for the only other conscious person in the room to pipe up as he’s heading toward the door.

“Esteemed Emperor Luo.”

His breath catches in his throat at his Shizun’s voice, turning immediately and forcing his tone to remain impersonal as he replies, “Yes?”

“This one would like to request a—a moment of your time, if that’s acceptable.”

“It is acceptable.” The words are out of his mouth before he can really think about them, but it’s fine. Unless something urgent crops up in the next hour, he won’t be too busy.

Not that he would ever be too busy to meet his Shizun’s requests, of course. Especially not in such a critical, tenuous period as this.

His Shizun bows respectfully, and another pulse of frustration runs through Luo Binghe. As much as he might enjoy seeing his Shizun acting so respectful (just acknowledging him, really. He just needs something), there’s still a strong undercurrent of discomfort that his respect is fueled by fear.

“Then please follow me, your majesty.”

Luo Binghe feels Mu Qingfang’s eyes on him—wary, if not quite nervous—but doesn’t comment on it. It’s good that his Shizun has allies to protect him should he…decide to cut himself off from Luo Binghe. The thought of his Shizun being alone distresses him too much to think about that possibility.

The Emperor follows the human into a nearby courtyard. It’s small and open-air, but quiet in the way that infuses throughout Qian Cao. Peaceful and private, out of the way of unwanted spectators.

His heart sinks a little.

When the other man turns to him, hands folded in front of him in a rigidly polite posture, Luo Binghe keeps his distance, arms loose at his sides as he waits.

His Shizun’s mouth opens, then snaps shut.

Words bubble up at the back of Luo Binghe’s throat but he swallows them away. Whatever his Shizun wishes to say, he will share eventually.

And ‘Qu Yuan’ does speak after a long minute of quiet.

“Do something for me, please,” he says quietly, fingers twisting slightly in his robes. Luo Binghe can smell the nervousness on him again despite the careful set of the human’s brow and jaw; even if the half-demon’s demonic senses had not been as sharp as they were, the tension in his Shizun’s hands would have betrayed the other man’s feelings.

It aches, still, but at least the only person he has ever wanted by his side isn’t trying to run away from him again. That had truly hurt.

“Kneel.”

Luo Binghe complies instantly, not bothering to spare himself the jolt of pain as his knees hit the courtyard’s tile, barely cushioned by his many layers.

His Shizun looks almost stricken, as though he hadn’t really expected Luo Binghe to obey. As though Luo Binghe wouldn’t do anything for him.

So that’s what this is, he realizes in a moment of clarity. A test of authenticity. Of the truth of Binghe’s intentions and feelings.

That thought is all he needs to place his palms flat on the ground, leaning forward in a gesture of reverence that he has not shown anyone else in over a decade.

“Anything for Shizun.”

…please, just trust me.

“I—you don’t have to...go that far—”

“Shizun, this Luo Binghe should always show you the respect you deserve. If Shizun gives this disciple an order, he will obey.”

A soft sigh accompanies halting footsteps. “You are no longer my disciple, you know. I have long since forfeit that privilege. And I—you shouldn’t be kowtowing to me like this, I shouldn’t have asked—”

“Shizun can ask me for whatever he wants. I will not refuse him.” Luo Binghe raises his head, straightening up slightly but keeping his eyes down. He lets his hands rest on his knees even though they itch to touch, to reach out to the one in front of him and keep him close.

Booted feet stop within arm’s distance, the charcoal gray of his Shizun’s robes feeling too dull, too different from the white and green he had been accustomed to.

(Although, Luo Binghe muses privately, he wouldn’t mind seeing his Shizun clothed in red.)

The brush of fingertips over his cheek forces the half-demon out of those thoughts. He has to tamp down on a sharp gasp as his chin is tilted up to see his Shizun’s worried face above him, a crease marring his forehead.

“Luo Binghe.” The words are soft, but not as soft as the hand tentatively running over the Demon Lord’s hair. “Binghe, I’m so sorry.”

The half-demon blinks up at the other man. “Shizun doesn’t need to apologize.”

Shen Yuan bites his lip. “But I should.” His fingers skim Luo Binghe’s hair again and the Heavenly Demon’s eyes flicker briefly closed, greedy for more of his Shizun’s touch, more of his kindness, more of him.

Whatever he is permitted to have.

“About—about that dream…” Luo Binghe can hear him swallow. “My actions then did not reflect my real thoughts, Luo Binghe. And I’m sorry—I’m sorry for putting you through that.”

His Shizun’s hand smooths his hair again, more confident now. “I’m not angry with you. Not really.” The whisper sinks into him, soothing the itch under Luo Binghe’s skin like salve over a burn.

“And I…I forgive you. For…for being 'reckless,' like you said. There’s just a lot going on that I don’t understand, and more that you don’t understand yet. And I want…”

Another swallow.

“…I’d like to explain more. Later. In actual private. If that’s alright?”

The half-demon barely restrains himself from bolting upright like an excited puppy at that.

“Just tell this one where and when, and he will be there.”

The crease between his Shizun’s eyebrows smooths out. “Since Luo Binghe already knows where I live, I thought it would be easier for both of us to talk there at my bookshop, three days from now, in the evening. I can close early, if you have time to come and talk.”

“I will have time.”

He would make time. Luo Binghe would clear out every single pest in the southern demon territories personally if it meant he could spend time with his Shizun. He has been waiting for this opportunity for ten years. He will not lose it.

“That’s settled, then.”

The hands on his hair retract as his Shizun withdraws, the loss of his touch making Luo Binghe notice the adorable flush on the human’s face as those warm eyes turn away again.

“Now would Luo Binghe please stand up, it’s—it’s really stressing me out.”

It only takes a moment to do so, and then it’s Luo Binghe looking down at his Shizun instead of the other way around; this plant body must be a fair few inches shorter than the one buried on Qing Jing, and there’s a certain part of the Heavenly Demon that quite likes the height difference. 

Most of him, however, is too overwhelmed to feel anything more than searing relief. This isn’t nearly everything he wants, but he can be patient.

And his Shizun is willing to talk with him. To let him stay by his side for at least a little while.

He’ll take the opportunity, and gladly.

And maybe…maybe it can be the start of something more.

Binghe can hope.

Shen Yuan narrowly avoids having a small meltdown in the courtyard after Luo Binghe leaves (with a respectful bow and an earnest smile—and fuck, that shouldn’t make Shen Yuan’s heart flutter like it did—he isn’t some romance novel heroine, no matter how many wife plots the System had transferred onto him). Sure, he had asked for…that just to see if Luo Binghe would actually do it, but he hadn’t been totally prepared for the Emperor to actually do it, particularly in a more public atmosphere. Granted, Shen Yuan had picked that courtyard to talk because it was rarely visited, even by members of Qian Cao, but still.

Luo Binghe had knelt for him. Again. Just because he had asked.

Definitely not Bing-ge’s style.

The hope their talk inspires makes the next few days easier, though, and Shen Yuan is monumentally grateful for that. With his spiritual energy sapped by routine visits to Cang Qiong to help Mu Qingfang, Shen Yuan is hardly at his strongest. But Luo Binghe had been…compliant, and respectful, and showed zero signs of any harmful intent toward Shen Yuan. He has had the transmigrator within reach for over a week and a half and done nothing remotely malicious.

Or anything at all, for that matter.

Of course, that reassuring fact doesn’t prevent Shen Yuan’s hands from shaking intermittently on the day he had invited Luo Binghe to come back into his home. The transmigrator almost misses Gongyi Xiao’s level-headedness and solid, quiet presence, but the other man is staying on Cang Qiong for the time being so Shen Yuan has to prepare alone. Though in truth, there’s probably nothing that could have stemmed the nervousness welling in his ribcage, because no matter which way it goes, the coming conversation won’t be easy. Or fun.

But, he reminds himself, it’s necessary. He can’t put this off forever, although he would definitely like to.

A knock on the door makes Shen Yuan drop a stack of books on his foot, startling a quiet curse from him as he bends down, ignoring the trembling of his fingers as he gathers the novels up again and places them haphazardly on the nearest shelf.

The human smooths his robes, squeezing his eyes shut.

Okay.

Okay.

It’s quite a strange experience to see Luo Binghe in his true form, rather incongruous on the background of the quieted street. Evening sunlight slants over the half-demon’s pale features, catching in dark, silky robes that are plain enough to avoid unwanted attention. While visible, even the demon mark on Luo Binghe’s forehead has faded to a matte crimson rather than the glowing sigil Shen Yuan had seen before. The vermilion eyes are much darker, much easier to pass off as brown.

Dark hair sweeps over broad shoulders when Luo Binghe bows, hands cupped in front of him. “Shizun,” he greets, voice low and soft in a way that feels oddly intimate. He straightens, and for a second Shen Yuan gets distracted by the perfect line of the Heavenly Demon’s neck.

“This one hopes it was not too presumptuous to assume Shizun would invite him in rather than simply staring at him.”

The words are teasing but the tone is sincere, jolting Shen Yuan out of his brief oh no he’s (still) hot moment.

He doesn’t blush because he isn’t some kind of delicate maiden swooning at the sight of her lover, but he can still feel his face warming slightly as he steps aside, bowing.

“I apologize, Luo Binghe. Please, come in.”

Luo Binghe steps inside, maintaining a reasonable distance from Shen Yuan that both relieves and almost frustrates the transmigrator. Part of him still flinches at close proximity to Luo Binghe, and it will likely take some time before he’s comfortable with the half-demon’s presence again.

He sits the half-demon down at the table in the back room, distracting himself by preparing tea—it’s a calming, familiar routine, and Shen Yuan can already tell that he’s going to need that for the conversation ahead of him. After all, just because it’s necessary doesn’t mean it’s going to be fun in any sense of the word.

At least Luo Binghe behaves himself, accepting the proffered cup with a smile and a respectful “Thank you” and waiting silently as Shen Yuan sits down across from him, nursing his own cup in both hands.

“How are you doing?” Shen Yuan cringes internally at the impersonal feel of that particular pleasantry, but his guest doesn’t miss a beat.

“This one has been well. He is grateful you would take the time to meet with him like this.” Blood-red eyes drift over him. “Has Shizun been well?”

Shen Yuan nods. “I have.” He watches the steam rising lazily from his teapot for a moment before he clears his throat. “I…you can refer to me however you want, of course, but I—well, my true name is Shen Yuan.”

It would be so much easier if Luo Binghe weren’t looking at him. Or in the room. Or the building. His presence makes Shen Yuan’s heartbeat accelerate, though it isn’t quite the result of fear this time. Just…garden-variety stress.

He sets his cup down, determinedly not wringing his hands. “And that is why I asked you to come today.”

The Heavenly Demon inclines his head, and Shen Yuan wishes he could read the other man. He’s too good at hiding his thoughts and emotions, and the transmigrator wants to be able to see them better to evaluate where this is going.

“For some time, I haven’t been entirely honest with you,” he begins, measuring his words cautiously. “And I hope you will not…hold that against me.”

Luo Binghe’s brow furrows. “Sh—Shen Yuan. I promise you I will not harm you, no matter what you tell me.”

He only sees sincerity in the half-demon’s eyes, and it calms him a little.

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe continues, that softness tinging his words again. “Whatever you want to tell me, I would never retaliate against you. Please believe me when I say this.”

One moment stretches into two, then three, and Shen Yuan nods a second time, acknowledging and praying in the same breath. The lack of any blaring alarms in his head is a good sign, as is Luo Binghe’s relaxed posture.

“I hope you hold to that, because what I want to explain to you will sound…insane. Impossible. But I swear it will be the truth.”

He gives in to the urge to fold his hands together, pressing one thumb into the opposite palm to calm himself.

“I want to be honest with you, Luo Binghe, and I think you have given me the opportunity to do so.”

Steam curls off his tea and Shen Yuan stares at it more intensely than necessary.

“The System I told you about isn’t truly a god, though it’s similar in some ways, like its power and reach. But it is more…a regulator. It enforces rules that were designed to prevent me, and me specifically, from doing or saying certain things.”

So far so good.

“When I forced you into the Abyss, I did so under the System’s duress.” His hands tighten. “I know that will never excuse that day, but—”

“Shizun.”

A hand brushes his and Shen Yuan’s gaze snaps back onto the man across from him.

“I have already forgiven you,” the half-demon says quietly, fingers ghosting over Shen Yuan’s as though he’s afraid to touch him. “I know you had no desire to harm me.”

The transmigrator’s eyes are stinging. He pulls his hands away abruptly, splaying his fingers over his face and breathing in raggedly, not from irritation or fear, but the frustration that there’s so much he needs to say, so much he needs to get off his chest, and yet he’s already breaking—falling to pieces from just a few words.

It’s too early to cry, dammit, he thinks. He would really prefer not to cry at all, but he supposes it couldn’t really be avoided. They have too much of a history together for Shen Yuan to entirely avoid the deluge of emotions that are threatening to crush him.

And still, he needs to speak. The words are there, waiting to leave his tongue, and Shen Yuan desperately wants to send them flooding out into the air, to finally, finally remove the barrier that has always stood between him and his ex-disciple.

“I am grateful,” his voice cracks as he finally speaks, “that Luo Binghe is so lenient with me. But I think he deserves to know that that day was just one manifestation of a larger…problem.”

A curse, more like, and one Shen Yuan had given some creative and colorful alternative names over the years, but he didn’t bring the Emperor here to listen to him insult an AI for several hours—as much as Shen Yuan would enjoy the chance to vent with the added bonus of getting this conversation over and behind him, he was aware it wasn’t the best option.

Fuck ripping off a bandaid, this feels like tearing out stitches.

“Technically speaking,” he says finally, “what you might call the ‘real’ Shen Qingqiu, the one who cultivated to immortality and became a Peak Lord…that Shen Qingqiu is long dead. As in, his soul is gone. Hopefully permanently.”

The Heavenly Demon cocks his head, but says nothing.

“Does Luo Binghe remember the last time Shen Qingqiu had him locked in the woodshed as punishment, several years before…before the Abyss opened?”

A slow nod.

“That was the day the old Shen Qingqiu’s soul departed. I…I was his replacement. My soul, in his body. From then on, I merely…acted as him. Only I tried to be better, to fix things. To…prevent what was supposed to happen to me, to the Sect…” His voice falls to a whisper. “…to you. And there, I failed.”

Shen Yuan avoids looking up as he speaks. “Originally, I was known as Shen Yuan. I had…a family. Another life. But I was far weaker, fully human. Cultivation…” He swallows. “The world I come from is very different from this one. No cultivators, no demons, no spiritual energy. Far more advanced, in its own ways, but not enough to keep me alive there.”

He can’t help the bitterness in his tone at the words, even though it hadn’t been the doctors’ fault, nor the treatments his family had paid for to keep him alive and as healthy as possible, nor the care he had been given in what he hadn’t known were his last days of life. It hadn’t been their fault he’d died of fucking food poisoning and gotten dumped into this new world. And it wasn’t their fault that he had come back, either. That he had come back in everything but body.

It hadn’t been their fault he had spent two years in darkness, alone in his own coffin, unable to speak or move or do anything other than try futilely to tear his living soul out of a corpse, because they hadn’t known. They couldn’t have known, because he had been dead in every way medicine could determine.

Shen Yuan doesn’t want to remember those years, but hearing his old family’s voices again…it had been a bittersweet experience.

But that’s not what he needs to focus on right now.

“Once I died in the other world, the System deposited me into this one, in Shen Qingqiu’s body, and that is when I met you properly.”

He chances a glance up and flinches at the blank expression on Luo Binghe’s face.

“I know—I know it sounds ridiculous, but it’s—it’s—”

“I believe you.”

Shen Yuan’s heart thuds in his chest. “…you do?”

Luo Binghe nods. “I trust you, Shizun.”

The transmigrator closes his eyes, frustrated. “I’m not really Shen Qingqiu, Luo Binghe. You don’t need to call me that now that I’m…” He gestures at himself. “…like this.”

“Perhaps.” The other man’s robes rustle quietly. “But you are still my Shizun, and I have the honor of being your disciple. I did not understand all those years ago, but this is…illuminating.” His smile curls softly across his face. “Shizun became so kind to me after that, I felt he had changed somehow even then.” He shrugs slightly. “Whether you had always been there or not, you were my Shizun. Are my Shizun. I would not have the same reverence for anyone else.”

Shen Yuan’s throat feels far too tight. “You really believe me.”

Another reassuring nod.

His tension bleeds out, only to seep back like ice water sinking into his skin.

They’re not done yet, after all.

The novel.

Shen Yuan clears his throat. “But there’s more.”

There’s no easy way to tell someone their story was first written into a book—particularly a trash fire of a stallion novel (Shen Yuan is going to leave that part out, and all the sordid, over-the-top sex. He’d wipe all that from his own memory if he could). It would be incredibly weird if someone else knew everything about him—had followed his life from birth to adulthood. He can only hope that it won’t scare Luo Binghe off too badly.

Shen Yuan is the one reaching for Binghe this time, needing something to keep him grounded, keep him talking until everything is out in the open. The half-demon turns his palms up obligingly, letting Shen Yuan’s hands rest over his without restraining them.

“I was never really the original Shen Qingqiu.” Shen Yuan winces slightly. “But in a way I knew who he was and what he was like before I came here. I knew Yue Qingyuan too, and Ning Yingying, and most of the others. And I…” He trails off, unsure of how to put this. He’s been thinking about it for a week and a half and yet he still feels unprepared.

“In my old world, I read. A lot. To keep myself occupied. And one of the stories I read was called Proud Immortal Demon Way, the story of a boy who, despite his cruel teacher, became Emperor.”

Silence in his head makes him relax, just a little. Seems like the System has nothing to add, for once.

…if it’s even still there. A transmigrator can hope.

With effort, he meets Binghe’s eyes again, and finds traces of realization in them.

“Ah,” the Heavenly Demon murmurs. “The things you said you were trying to fix?”

“Yes,” he responds quietly. “That book was supposed to be your story, and it was, until the System replaced the original Shen Qingqiu’s soul with mine.”

“The System.”

Shen Yuan inclines his head. “The rules it put in place were meant to prevent me from acting too differently from Shen Qingqiu at first, to avoid arousing suspicion. And to keep me from telling you what I’m telling you now.” He fidgets, fingertips ghosting over Luo Binghe’s wrists. “I had some leeway, but only in…minor parts. Things like…ah, like the Endless Abyss were…” His lip twists bitterly. “…non-negotiable.”

Luo Binghe’s fingers wrap around his hands, a reassuring warmth against his skin. “Shizun.”

“I’m sorry,” Shen Yuan whispers. “If I’d been smart enough to find a way around it—”

“Please don’t apologize, Shizun.”

There’s a trace of anger in the words, but Shen Yuan can tell it isn’t aimed at him this time.

“If I understand what Shizun is telling me,” Luo Binghe says slowly, “then he was backed into a corner and forced to something he had no desire to do. I would never blame Shizun for that.”

The fingers tighten slightly. “What it did to you last time…had it tortured you like that before?”

“It was not one of the…main punishments, but it got close. Usually…” he swallows. “Usually it relied on a different kind of incentive.”

There had always been a threat hanging over him, whether or not the System had decided to remind him.

The image of blood seeping from the ragged places joints ought to be—of a thousand cruel arrows piercing flesh—of endless death and carnage and a knife-sharp smile—racks through Shen Yuan, and he stiffens.

He’d had those dreams too, once in a while. Trapped in the darkness with no place to go and nothing to hope in, the mind can conjure up some…unpleasant things, and thanks to the System, it had had quite a lot of material to work with.

“Those threats were part of why I didn’t tell you I was alive,” Shen Yuan explains. “I was—well, Shen Qingqiu was…meant to die at your hands.”

…the same hands that are now cradling Shen Yuan’s own, letting him touch the half-demon as he pleases.

“And it wasn’t just me who was supposed to suffer.” He can’t meet Binghe’s eyes yet. “Yue Qingyuan, Ming Fan, most of Cang Qiong. When you said Liu Qingge told you I had been afraid you would kill the other Peak Lords…that was why. I thought…I thought if I wasn’t there to take the blame, it would be even worse for them.”

“I see,” Luo Binghe says quietly. “Shizun was afraid I would follow this…book instead.”

Shen Yuan nods wordlessly.

“Please look at me, Shizun.”

He does.

“Whatever this other Shen Qingqiu may have done, you are not him.” Red eyes lock onto Shen Yuan’s, somehow burning and tender at the same time. “You are my Shizun. And while I may have failed you countless times, you taught me how to be good, and in return, this Luo Binghe selfishly fell in love.”

Warmth curls around his fingers as Binghe’s lace with his.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Shen Yuan. And if you wish for me to leave you alone, I will obey without question. No matter who you used to be or where you may have come from, you are my Shizun. You have been too good to me for me to ignore it all.”

Oh fuck, there they are again. The tears, trying desperately to spill out over his cheeks.

Luo Binghe leans forward. “Would you…do you prefer Shen Yuan, or Qu Yuan?”

His throat tightens and he does his best to blink his tears away.

“Shen Yuan,” he replies, voice strained. “I’ve just been using variations, really, so Shen Yuan is fine.”

“Very well.” Luo Binghe’s voice is quiet, almost reverent when he speaks again. “Shen Yuan. Beautiful, just like A-Yuan himself.”

Wetness finally streaks down his cheek. Hearing his name from Luo Binghe’s lips…it makes him feel weak and he hates that, because it’s just a name, just a few syllables strung together and that shouldn’t have so much power, but when Luo Binghe says it there’s a weight to it that hits him straight in the chest.

A choked sob rises in his throat with those accursed tears, one hand flying up to cover his mouth at the embarrassing sound. Shen Yuan closes his eyes, trying desperately to get some control of himself, to focus on the present and not the years and years of repressing himself for the sake of his persona.

A-Yuan.

Fuck. Fuck.

“I apologize.” Luo Binghe’s voice is soft, ashamed. “I have overstepped already. Begging Shen Yuan’s forgiveness for addressing him with such familiar terms.”

Oh—what?

“N-no, it’s—that’s fine. You can—you can call me that,” Shen Yuan whispers. “It’s just—been years, and no one other than…um. It’s a lot. But I—I like it, actually.” 

It’s…nice. Really nice. A little strange, but not in an unpleasant way.

The smile his words inspire makes his heart skip a beat as he lowers his hand, placing it back in Binghe’s.

“So Shizun wants me to call him A-Yuan?”

He nods jerkily, and Luo Binghe’s hand tightens on his. “Would A-Yuan also permit me to…” An almost uncertain look crosses that perfect face. “Would A-Yuan permit me to—to court him?”

“Shizun doesn’t have to answer me now,” the half-demon hastens to add. “And he can set all the limits, and the courtship does not bind him to any specific decision, of course!” Luo Binghe raises worried eyes to Shen Yuan’s face. “If—if Shizun permits it, I would just…like to get to know him again. Without any misconceptions or fear between us.”

A sort of uncomfortable, heavy weight that had been resting on Shen Yuan’s chest lifts. He had…considered something like that, to rebuild whatever bonds they had once had. Asking Luo Binghe to make routine visits, though…it would have taken him a while to build up that confidence.

“That is acceptable.” He nearly winces at how clipped that sounds, but Binghe doesn’t. And gods, Shen Yuan is a sucker for that fucking smile—all relief and brilliant happiness—can he get a sunburn from a smile? now that’s a valid question Shang Qinghua had never answered about this world. He’ll have to remember to ask once he gets over that grin.

“Thank you, A-Yuan. This Luo Binghe will do his best not to disappoint you!”

“You could never disappoint me,” Shen Yuan grumbles, trying to get back some level of control over his pulse, but it backfires when Binghe’s smile widens even further.

“There is something I would like to give Shizun now, if he accepts it.”

Shen Yuan nods, curious. “Very well.”

Luo Binghe releases the transmigrator’s hands and pulls out a smooth, official-looking rectangular piece of jade, laying it on the table in front of Shen Yuan, whose eyes widen at the imperial insignia carved into the pale green, inlayed with a tasteful amount of gold.

“If you ever wish to contact me, you can use this. It will also get you anywhere in the city, even the palace.” Uncertainty crosses the half-demon’s face again. “Of course, you don’t have to use it. But if you ever need something, or want something, or get into trouble, I would like you to have it.”

Shen Yuan picks up the jade token, running his fingertips over the delicate carvings etched into its surface.

“Is it too much?”

The transmigrator shakes his head immediately. “No, it’s fine. More than fine! I just didn’t expect…”

The half-demon lowers his eyes. “Of course, it is not exactly a traditional first gift, but after seeing how much the System could hurt you, I felt it would be better to give it to you now, just in case.”

A surge of warmth fills Shen Yuan’s chest. “Thank you.” He tucks the jade carefully unto his sleeve. “I’ll keep it with me.” The transmigrator glances back up at his guest, emotions milling in his heart as he struggles to organize his mind again. “I…you can stay a little while longer if you’d like, though I can’t promise I’ll be the best company after…” he gestures absently. “…that talk.”

Luo Binghe bows his head. “If A-Yuan needs time to recover himself, then this one will give him space.”

The transmigrator folds his hands on the table. “I wouldn’t mind if Luo Binghe stayed, but I admit that I am quite…tired.”

And still somewhat ashamed of his breakdown earlier, but that’s something he can confront in the safety of his bed while petting Da Qing.

The Emperor gives him a gentle smile and stands, bowing. “Then this Luo Binghe will let you rest.”

Shen Yuan gets up, pulse still a little unsteady as he escorts the other man to the exit. Still, he stops the half-demon at the door, ignoring his frayed emotions to take Luo Binghe’s hand.

“I know you’re going to be busy, so I don’t expect you to come often, but I would…certainly like to spend some more time getting to know you again. A lot has changed, but…ah, well, I’m sure you understand?”

The Heavenly Demon raises Shen Yuan’s hand to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on the back of it. “I do, and I would like to spend more time with Shizun, if he permits me.” His eyes soften. “Thank you for explaining, A-Yuan.”

Shen Yuan hesitates for a moment before bringing Binghe’s hand down to face level, pressing his own lips to the half-demon’s skin to mirror the other man’s gesture.

“Thank you for listening, Binghe. I’ll see you…”

Luo Binghe blinks rapidly. “Tomorrow,” he supplies. “I’ll come back tomorrow—if that is acceptable.”

Shen Yuan squeezes his hand, then releases it. “Tomorrow, then.”

Blood-red eyes meet his, glimmering like stars in the soft glow of the lanterns strung across the street. “Tomorrow,” he repeats softly, and then he’s gone.

Shen Yuan closes the door, trembling when he rests his forehead on the cool wood.

“Mrow?”

He starts a little and turns, stooping to pick up Da Qing and stroking the kitten’s head. “What do you think, little one?”

The kitten’s tails curl and he releases another meow, squirming in Shen Yuan’s hands until a wet tongue rasps across the transmigrator’s chin.

“Great input,” Shen Yuan murmurs, locking the door carefully before heading upstairs with the kitten balanced on his shoulder.

He sets the jade down on the table next to his bed, staring at it like it might disappear any moment.

…wow.

A slow smile spreads across his face.

Wow.

Across the capital, Luo Binghe’s heartbeat is still racing. Fingertips trace the skin where his Shizun had graced him with a kiss, reeling like a lovestruck teen again just from that touch, wondering how those lips would feel pressed against his own. Against his neck, his shoulder…

He is greedy and he knows it, but he can’t help wanting.

Not that he would push his Shizun, of course. Luo Binghe is determined to prove he can behave himself, be good for his love. He wouldn’t even dare to touch himself to thoughts of his Shizun for fear of dishonoring the man. Shen Yuan…A-Yuan has been through too much for Binghe to disrespect him like that.

Not that he had never had thoughts, but…

He knows he doesn’t deserve it—any of it. Not even the kiss on the hand, which was in itself a blessing—a gift that meant more than anything Luo Binghe could give his Shizun as a courtship present. After A-Yuan had opened himself to the Heavenly Demon like that, how could anything he do compare, or even begin to make amends for the earlier misunderstandings between them?

And yet, his Shizun did not seem to bear any resentment toward him, just relief that Binghe had not…that he had not behaved as this other him had. This…novel Binghe.

He doesn’t quite understand how such a thing is possible, but then again, this world is full of marvels. It is not so unbelievable that there could be other worlds, ones in which his life was nothing but a story dreamed up by some author—a story in which Shen Qingqiu was not so kind, nor Binghe so smitten.

In this world—the one that matters—the mere thought of hurting his Shizun sickens him. The dream his not-quite-qi-deviation had brought on had been horrific enough that even the memory turns his stomach. And even worse, his Shizun had been subjected to it as well, dragged in somehow.

He must have been terrified.

Luo Binghe forces those thoughts from his mind. For now, it seems that Shen Yuan is safe from the System’s horrors, and he is determined to keep it that way. No more threats, no more dreams, no more “punishments.” Never again.

He can still feel the strange threads of its power—now that he knows what to look for, he feels them everywhere, winding hither and thither through the palace and the city, and likely even beyond. Delicate and intangible and silent, for now. If they begin to hum again, he will put a stop to it for a second time.

Somehow. He can feel it trying to reach for him, like spiderweb on his skin that he has to keep dusting off.

It unsettles him, but it seems that as long as it doesn’t stay near him too long, it will stay quiet. He just can’t get distracted from it until he finds a way to shut it off permanently.

Not that he hasn’t tried, unfortunately without success…so far. He will keep an eye on it, stomp it out whenever he feels it.

The half-demon has another task to accomplish at the moment: finding a suitable gift to begin his courtship. He’s unsure of whether his Shizun will eventually want true courtship—the type intended for a romantic relationship, and eventually marriage—but it would have been wrong to press him while Shen Yuan had been so obviously distraught.

Luo Binghe will ask first, and place no expectations on his Shizun. If Shen Yuan says no, he will resist the urge to spoil his beloved with gifts. If Shen Yuan says yes, the half-demon will stick to small things, simple enough that should his Shizun eventually reject him, Shen Yuan can keep the gifts without any explicit ties to Luo Binghe.

He would much prefer to give his beloved items that clearly showed the Emperor’s favor and marked him off-limits to anyone else, but ultimately, that choice isn’t up to him.

He just wants the other man to accept his gifts (and with them, him), and in order to do that, Luo Binghe can’t be too extravagant, no matter how much he would like to.

The first gift will be more traditional, then. Hairpieces are a safe choice, even those of higher quality materials. The chances of his Shizun rejecting those are slim.

And still, even with that knowledge in mind, the Heavenly Demon finds himself standing outside the bookshop the next evening with a box in his hands and butterflies in his belly.

Butterflies. Like some adolescent pining over their beloved.

It should be beneath him, but the feeling is painfully familiar nonetheless. Only one person has ever made the Emperor feel like this, and he doesn’t even know it.

Luo Binghe knocks and the door opens moments later, letting him drink in the sight of a somewhat flustered Shen Yuan tucking a small braid into place in his hairpiece.

The half-demon bows. "This one hopes he has not come at an inopportune time."

Shen Yuan dismisses his concern with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry; you're right on time.” He steps aside, a rather nervous smile playing on his lips. “Please, come in!”

Luo Binghe obeys, following the human into the back room, where a fresh pot of tea is already steaming next to two cups. He sets the box down next to him, sitting across from Shen Yuan at the low table. His Shizun glances curiously at the box but folds his hands on the table with a serious expression.

“Would you like some tea?”

“Please.”

Shen Yuan looks tense still, and Luo Binghe pushes down his urge to fidget nervously. He doesn’t like how drawn the other man’s shoulders look, or how he worries his lip distractedly.

“If it would make Shen Yuan more comfortable, this one could sit further away. Or…or kneel instead.”

As long as his Shizun doesn’t ask him to leave, or smell of fear again. Luo Binghe would let Shen Yuan bind him hand and foot with Immortal Binding Cable if it would help the other man relax. He had hoped his Shizun wouldn’t be so afraid of him after their last talk, but he would do what needed to be d—

“Oh—no, that’s not necessary, Binghe.” His Shizun pales slightly. “Can I call you that? Is it okay for me to…?”

“A-Yuan can call me whatever he pleases.”

That gets him a small smile. “Good to know. Binghe is very gracious.”

The half-demon may or may not preen a little at the compliment, although he knows he doesn’t deserve it.

“So A-Yuan wanted to talk again?”

His Shizun looks back up from where he had begun to pour tea. “Yes. I would like…to set some limits. Um…ground rules. For us. So neither of us oversteps by accident.”

Rules are good. Rules mean his Shizun is planning to keep him around long enough to need them.

Shen Yuan sets down the teapot. “I mean…some of them might change eventually, but I thought it would be a good place to start.”

Luo Binghe nods in agreement. “Very well. What rules would Shizun like to set?”

The rules are quite simple, as it turns out. Mostly formality, Shen Yuan assures him. Measures to clear up their interactions. Things like not raising his voice, knocking and waiting outside until the human lets him in, and keeping Shen Yuan’s past identity secret unless he is given explicit permission to reveal it to others. Respecting Shen Yuan’s space, although Shen Yuan adds that physical contact is fine, though he would prefer that Luo Binghe ask before touching, at least until the human gets fully over his worry.

Shen Yuan looks almost apologetic, like he doesn’t have the right to keep Binghe at arm’s length for as long as he wants. 

Still, the human sounds slightly guilty when he asks that the courtship, tentative as it is, be kept private, though Luo Binghe assures him it’s fine. He would do everything in his power to ensure that he is not recognized, or remembered. Nor will he allow rumors to spread.

As for the visits themselves, the two work out a schedule to balance Luo Binghe's responsibilies and Shen Yuan's business. It may be just a few hours in the afternoon every four days, but Luo Binghe finds a great deal of reassurance in the prospect of having regular visits.

And, thankfully, when Luo Binghe asks whether gifts are acceptable, Shen Yuan says yes. This ends up as Shen Yuan’s final rule, until he sets down his cup and asks, “Now, are there any rules you want to set for me?”

Luo Binghe blinks, momentarily off-balance. “I will give Shen Yuan whatever he asks of me. I will refuse him nothing.”

Shen Yuan’s lips purse and he taps the table lightly with his fan. “Binghe. I don’t want to take advantage of your earnestness, even accidentally. There’s a huge difference between being willing to give me something and wanting to give it. If there’s anything that would make you uncomfortable, I want to avoid it. It’s as important for me to respect your boundaries as it is for you to respect me and what I can handle. Are you sure there are no limits you would like to set?”

The half-demon considers. There is one thing weighing on his mind, a fear that he cannot dispel.

“If it is permitted,” he says hesitantly, “I would like one rule.”

Shen Yuan nods. “Go ahead.”

“If…if I ever offend Shizun in any way, I would prefer that he explain my offense to me and punish me immediately after.” Luo Binghe fixes his gaze on the table. “Whatever punishment Shizun sees fit to give, I will take it, as long as Shen Yuan does not send me away again, even for just a few days. Or—or even if Shizun is too angry to explain what I did wrong, at least if he disciplines me for my mistake—”

“Very well.” Shen Yuan’s voice is soft, reassuring. “Is that the only rule you would like? Of course, if something else comes up, it won’t be too late to add it. This is just a precaution, to make sure we actually try and communicate.”

“That’s all. Unless there’s anything else A-Yuan wanted to talk about today?”

The other man bites his lip. “There is…one more thing. But it’s not a rule, just…um. Clarification?” Shen Yuan shifts in his seat. “You—told me you wanted me, and only me, as your consort.” He swallows visibly. “But if, hypothetically, we were to, you know, marry—hypothetically, if that were the case, then obviously you would have to at least take a concubine—”

“No.” Binghe flinches when he realizes he had interrupted his Shizun, but continues, “I don’t want anyone but A-Yuan. No concubines, no lovers, no one else.”

Shen Yuan’s cheeks are turning pink again. “As endearing as your devotion is, you are the Emperor.” He stares down into his empty cup. “I…I cannot give you an heir, Binghe. If you truly want to court me, you need to remember that I would be insufficient as your consort if I cannot—”

Insufficient?!

“A-Yuan, please.”

Brown eyes flicker back up to meet Binghe’s.

“If that is Shen Yuan’s main concern, he need not worry.” Luo Binghe leans forward, hoping his honesty is clear in both his expression and his voice. “I could adopt. I could make use of certain artifacts that require combinations of spiritual energy. I could…I could find a surrogate, if—if A-Yuan wishes me to, though I would not marry another.” The very idea sticks in his throat, but if it would reassure his Shizun, he would do it.

“And there are…ways that one of us could…” There are stories, myths, obscure artifacts and rituals. It is possible. But that decision is for Shen Yuan to make.

A tangled mix of emotions flicker across Shen Yuan’s face and he nods slowly. “I see. I…well, it’s a conversation to revisit later, then. As long as there are options, and we are both clear on where we stand.” He swallows, and Luo Binghe is careful not to stare too long at that slender throat.

His Shizun lets out a long, slow breath and smiles at him. “Now that all that is taken care of, at least for now, I was wondering if Binghe would like to join me for dinner?”

How could Luo Binghe turn down an offer like that?

Of course, it’s a little awkward at first, sitting across from his Shizun in Mistress Ling’s teahouse with his demon mark covered by his hair and an active forgetful talisman tucked into his sash so his presence slips from others’ memories like a hand trailed briefly through water. But they manage to ease into normal conversation, particularly when the proprietress drops by their table, all too willing to gossip with them. In fact, Luo Binghe has a sneaking suspicion that her casual humor and easygoing nature are the true reasons Shen Yuan chose to come here instead of a stranger’s establishment with better food but worse company.

That and the fact it was close enough that Shen Yuan wouldn’t have to limp halfway across the city just to get something to eat. Once Mistress Ling bustles off to another client, the other man waves his slightly uneven gait off as his plant leg “acting up” again and reassures the half-demon that Mu Qingfang has been helping him fix what he can of the vines that make up his left leg. Apparently the Qian Cao Peak Lord has figured out how to successfully push the body from its rough stage to its “true-flesh” stage—only that takes time and a massive amount of spiritual energy, and Shen Yuan has only managed to recover a few inches of his thigh thus far. Shen Yuan jokes about actually planting his leg in the ground to see if that speeds up the process, but there’s a haunted look in his eyes that Luo Binghe doesn’t wish to press further.

It goes…well. Particularly after Luo Binghe gets his Shizun to start talking about his bookshop and his books, and the human’s eyes virtually light up. Binghe doesn’t even mind listening to him rant about how terrible Proud Immortal Demon Way was—until Shen Yuan bluntly says that Luo Binghe was the only truly good thing to come out of the “word vomit train wreck dumpster fire of a webnovel,” and then Binghe has to zone out for a few minutes while he tries not to cry.

By the time they pay and head back to Shen Yuan’s shop, the sun has disappeared, its light replaced by lanterns strung across the street. They cast a soft red glow that catches in the human’s hair as he stands in his doorway, having to tilt his head up to look at Luo Binghe even with the extra inches afforded by the single step.

“The box you left…it’s for me, right?”

Luo Binghe blinks, perfectly deadpan. “No, it’s for Da Qing's collection.”

A peal of laughter rings into the street. Shen Yuan’s eyes crease, and he leans against the doorframe. “He’ll certainly enjoy sitting in it for a day or two before he gets bored and finds another.”

Binghe smiles. “Then the box is for him, but its contents are for A-Yuan.” He takes Shen Yuan’s hand again, meeting his eyes inquisitively, and gets a nod. He can feel the night’s chill on the human’s skin when he presses his lips to the other man’s knuckles. “No strings attached.”

Shen Yuan’s grin softens to something gentler—more intimate, somehow. “Thank you, Binghe.”

Binghe squeezes his Shizun’s hand gently. “It’s just a few hairpieces.”

The other man shakes his head. “Not just for the gift. Also for the…date.”

He suspects that the red on his Shizun’s face isn’t just from the lanternlight.

“Or…um, meeting. Whatever it was, since we’re not…a couple. Technically.”

“Would A-Yuan want it to be a date?”

Shen Yuan bites his lip. “I—I think so.” The red grows deeper. “But I need time to really figure it out.”

Binghe bows, still holding Shen Yuan’s hand. “Of course. Whatever A-Yuan wants.”

He allows himself one more lingering kiss on the back of Shen Yuan’s hand before he lets go.

“A-Yuan must be cold,” he murmurs. “He should go warm up inside. I will see him again in four days.”

A smile tugs at Shen Yuan’s lips. “I look forward to it.”

The door closes, but Binghe feels…light, happy—happy in a way that he has not been for a long, long time.

From there, things go much smoother for the two. By the second visit, Luo Binghe has seen his Shizun laugh until he cries, and by the fourth, he has figured out how to inspire that laughter himself. 

By the fifth, they have waded through the crowd in a bustling night market together—Luo Binghe is too distracted by Shen Yuan’s buzzing enthusiasm to notice the wheelbarrow about to ram into his side, until his Shizun grabs his wrist and tugs him out of the way, tsking at his “uncharacteristic lack of situational awareness”. . . which would have been a perfectly normal, forgettable occurrence if his Shizun had let go—only his hand had just slipped from Luo Binghe’s wrist down to his palm, wrapping around the half-demon’s hand and pulling him along.

Shen Yuan blames it on the crowd and not wanting to get separated, but he doesn’t let go when they turn into less packed side-streets.

Luo Binghe doesn’t call his bluff.

By the sixth visit, Luo Binghe has put Shen Yuan’s hair up in a green and silver hairpiece with gentle hands and reassuring words as his Shizun frets about how Ning Yingying might react, even though he already knows she’d figure it out on her own anyway.

Of course, Shen Yuan needn’t have worried, because Ning Yingying takes one look at Shen Yuan, bursts into tears with a soft cry of Shizun! and wraps the human into a tight but trembling hug.

Apparently she knows Binghe just a little too well and his recent, prolonged good mood had tipped her off.

He doesn’t join their hug though, as happy as it makes him to see his two favorite people reunited, particularly when he hears the whispered “I’m so proud of you, Yingying,” but the new Qing Jing Peak Lord reaches out and drags the half-demon in anyway.

The talk that follows is long and in some ways painful, but “Shen Qingqiu’s” secret return means little for Sect functioning. Both parties can agree that Ning Yingying as Peak Lord is the best option going forward despite the circumstances—despite her relative inexperience and the circumstantial anomaly of her appointment. After all, the idea of promoting peace and harmony between the peaks by replacing all Peak Lords at once by their generation was all well and good until one of said Peak Lords was brutally murdered and two others went into secluded cultivation for a month while yet another was finishing paperwork from another realm half the time because a certain demon had high demands for his servants—not to mention the resultant problem of teaching and guiding the lord-less peak.

If necessary, there could have been a complete replacement to even things out, but Ming Fan had joined the investigation into Shen Qingqiu’s death from the beginning, making him a less than ideal candidate despite his status, and Liu Qingge hadn’t even had a head disciple until months later, when he had taken on Yang Yixuan for reasons no one really understood, and all but one of the other Peaks’ head disciples had been far too inexperienced to step up as Peak Lords.

In short, the best solution had been finding a better replacement—someone to formally fill the gap and heal the lingering wound in Cang Qiong. Ning Yingying may have been young, but she had always had a knack for bringing her peak together like no one else could, so an exception had been made. Shen Yuan has much to be proud of in his former pupil.

Shen Yuan balks at the idea of telling Liu Qingge, though, even after his presence at “Shen Qingqiu’s” death (an event neither man is eager to discuss even now, eight years later) and on that Binghe is in full agreement.

But by the eighth visit, Binghe has witnessed the Bai Zhan Peak Lord—who is apparently a very angry crier—drag Shen Yuan into an embrace while threatening to fight him.

Binghe politely looks away.

By the ninth visit, Luo Binghe, Shen Yuan, Ning Yingying, and Gongyi Xiao have shared a not-so-awkward meal together—still subdued, though, following what would be Shen Yuan and Gongyi Xiao’s final conversation with Yu Hao before his execution the next day. Cheung, Yu Hao’s dog, sleeps through their dinner in Gongyi Xiao’s lap, whimpering every so often. And Luo Binghe may have no love for the puppy, but he still can't help feeling a little sorry for it. It has the same innocent, naive love for its former master that Luo Binghe used to have for his Shizun, except that Binghe had matured in his love, and Cheung…would not get that chance.

He distracts himself by talking to Ning Yingying during Shen Yuan and Gongyi Xiao’s hushed exchange about meeting the next day. Luo Binghe will not intrude on their shared grief; if his Shizun needs more support, he will provide it if asked.

Fortunately, the dinner proves that there isn’t much tension left between Binghe and Gongyi Xiao. They aren’t close, per se, and likely never would be, but after Luo Binghe’s apology several weeks earlier, they were on much better terms. Particularly after Luo Binghe had learned how the former Huan Hua disciple had slipped quite a few incriminating documents into Shang Qinghua’s hands before he had left the Palace.

Besides, Gongyi Xiao gets along well with Ning Yingying and has already been enlisted to help Ming Fang corral some of the peak’s younger disciples when the former head disciple visits again, so it seems that Luo Binghe will be seeing him in the future no matter what.

By the tenth visit, Shen Yuan has commented on the System again and Luo Binghe is very glad that he has kept brushing it away whenever he feels it reaching for him, keeping it silent and docile. Frustratingly, he still has not found a way to destroy it permanently.

He had already communicated some concerns about it to his Shizun, but neither one of them really understands how the System operates (Shen Yuan grumbles about the lack of a "user manual" and then wonders if that would be grounds for a lawsuit, but then dismisses the idea because "who would I even sue? The universe? Evil incarnate?" but Luo Binghe can tell his comments are attempts to distract himself).

Still, there are methods he has not tried that he still has hope for. He will keep trying, keep pushing it away and tearing it down when it gets too close, and if his Shizun hears anything from it, he has promised to tell Binghe so they can address the issue as best they can.

By the twelfth visit, the Heavenly Demon has sat through a highly amusing argument that consisted mostly of Shen Yuan smacking Shang Qinghua about the shoulders with his fan and scolding him in the odd language his Shizun calls “English.” He finally understands why Mobei-jun pays such meticulous attention when the An Ding Peak Lord rambles in different languages because he would pay good money to know what Shen Yuan says as he jabs his fan at the delicate blue ribbon around Shang Qinghua’s neck (an obvious gift from a certain territorial ice demon) and then throws up his hands dramatically.

Of course, he has a fair guess at what his Shizun is saying, but it would be entertaining to know the details.

By the fourteenth visit, Binghe has offered to bring Shen Yuan the head of a fearsome demonic creature as a traditional gift along with the smaller things he’s been bringing, but his Shizun narrows his eyes at the half-demon’s innocent expression and calls his bluff—except that Luo Binghe had already gone to the trouble of hunting down and killing a particularly aggressive Silver-furred Lion Fox that had been terrorizing a remote village. Cleaning off all the blood had been a tedious process, but the furs shimmer beautifully once they had been cleaned and cured and properly prepared for use, and when the half-demon retrieves them from his spacial storage ring, his Shizun turns a very pleasing shade of pink.

No actual severed head necessary.

The problem with such a traditional gift is that it’s an obvious sign of courting. To prepare the fur of such a notoriously vicious and powerful creature with his own hands was essentially equivalent to sending out messengers proclaiming that the Emperor was trying to win favor with someone. So Luo Binghe took even more care to keep his specific ties to Shen Yuan secret, keeping up his disguise and routinely using the forgetful charms whenever they go out in public.

He’s always careful, hiding his demon mark and musculature under layers of qi manipulators and looser robes, and his Shizun seems to appreciate it. He understands that Shen Yuan does not wish to accidentally harm Luo Binghe’s reputation, but has no such concerns of his own. He has weathered worse things for much less than this.

And this is worth…well, it’s worth any price he has to pay, even the price of being able to look and sometimes touch but nothing more. Not until his Shizun allows him.

There are times, of course, when he wants more but keeps himself in check, like the time Shen Yuan opens his door with a smile and a greeting, dressed in his gifts.

He stops short, fighting the urge to swallow at the sight of a delicately carved silver pin slotted neatly through Shen Yuan’s hair crown, a hand-painted fan hanging from his sash, and a soft, silken inner robe peeking out from underneath the human’s usual gray and blue outer layers.

His beloved is wearing his gifts, and saying that Luo Binghe likes that very, very much would be a grave understatement.

The half-demon shakes off his brief shock and enters the shop, setting his newest gift down on the table as Shen Yuan sits down across from him.

“You don’t always have to bring things, you know,” the human reminds him. “I’m perfectly happy just talking to you.”

Luo Binghe nods in acknowledgement but still pushes the package over to his Shizun. “This one knows. But he hopes A-Yuan will accept physical expressions of his sentiment too.”

Shen Yuan’s cheeks dust with color and Luo Binghe grins inwardly. It’s too easy to make the other man blush, and yet the half-demon revels in it every time.

Slender fingers untie the strips of silk securing the package, and Shen Yuan’s eyes widen as he pulls the wrappings away. He trails his fingertips over the characters carefully stamped on the book covers, hands fumbling a little as he spreads them across the tabletop, excitement sparking in those dark eyes.

“This is…wow.” He opens the cover on one of the heavier tomes, flipping through it, which only makes him stare harder. “Oh my gods—Binghe, how did you even…?”

The Heavenly Demon smiles. “A-Yuan likes the bestiary I made for him?”

Shen Yuan looks up incredulously. “You made this?”

He nods.

The other man glances back down, paging through the text and pausing over one of the illustrations. “I’ve never even heard of these.” Shen Yuan leans down, hair slipping over his shoulders as he takes in the smaller details.

“That species is quite rare,” Luo Binghe replies, quietly basking in his Shizun’s obvious delight. It seems that he had chosen the correct gift after all. “It can only survive in some areas, so there are very few sightings. As far as I know, it carries no name either.”

“Amazing,” Shen Yuan breathes. “Where did you even—” he cuts off, scanning the lines of ink. “The illustrations too?”

“Yes. Not all of them are as accurate as they should be—it took me some time to figure out how to make the sketches without paper back then, so these are mostly reproductions from my memory.”

Shen Yuan is looking at him again, eyes wide. “When…when did you start making this for me, Binghe?”

“A long time ago.” The Heavenly Demon shifts in his seat. “There were…a lot of creatures living in the Abyss. Rare species, subcategories of some others, spiritual or not…and Shizun was always interested in that kind of thing, so this Luo Binghe—recorded what he could.”

Shen Yuan is still staring and the half-demon tilts his head, trying to read the complicated expression on the other man’s face.

“Even then?” Shen Yuan’s voice is almost small in its hesitancy, lined with an emotion Luo Binghe can’t quite place.

And still, he inclines his head, giving a soft smile. “A-Yuan, I told you I never stopped loving you, even after everything that happened between us back then. I knew Shizun would like to hear about any new beasts, so I remembered. Just in case.”

It’s not as if he’s lying, either. Part of it had been self-preservation, trapped in a terrifying new landscape that had every intention of devouring him whole—but part of it had been the voice that sounded like his Shizun in the back of his mind, pointing out what a learning opportunity this could be.

The reminder of his Shizun’s softer side easing his pain and confusion had been another side effect, but voicing that advantage might distress his Shizun again, so he would not speak of it.

The silence stretches out between them, and then Shen Yuan gets up out of his seat. A moment later there are arms wrapping around Luo Binghe and a warm body pressing into his. He freezes for a split second but recovers almost immediately—he has to take every opportunity presented, after all, since there’s no true guarantee that his Shizun will continue allowing him this close. Even if Shen Yuan has been freer in his casual touches lately.

Those thoughts fly out of his head when his Shizun buries his face in Binghe’s chest. The half-demon closes his eyes to steady himself against the feeling of soft hair under his cheek and the scent of ink and tea and a hint of bamboo that always clings to the other man.

“I take it that A-Yuan likes his gift?”

The man in his arms quivers with a laugh that’s only a little unsteady. “Would it be possible to dislike a gift like that?”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Luo Binghe lowers one arm from Shen Yuan’s back to his waist, curling around it and holding the human as close as he dares—his Shizun is practically in his lap now. Shen Yuan fits perfectly against him and not for the first time, an almost painful ache tightens in the half-demon’s throat at the touch.

But Shen Yuan pulls back after a few glorious moments, and Luo Binghe lets him go without verbal complaint.

“Would A-Yuan like to look through the rest? I picked them based on my understanding of A-Yuan’s tastes but I would rather know for sure…”

His Shizun smiles brightly when he sits back down, pausing only briefly to swipe one of his sleeves over his eyes before he picks up another. “I’m sure they’re all great.” His face lights up as he reads over the titles, stacking them carefully before placing his chin on the pile of books and letting out a contented sigh.

“Thank you, really,” the other man says, and no, Luo Binghe isn’t jealous of his own gifts even if his Shizun places his arms around the stack with a blissfully cheerful expression.

“You’ve really outdone yourself, Binghe.” Shen Yuan shakes his head. “I was hoping to take you out to eat but in face of this…” he frowns but Binghe shakes his head.

“If you want to, we will.” The half-demon offers the other man a hopeful look. “Unless A-Yuan would finally let me cook for him…”

The transmigrator opens his mouth but Binghe hurriedly adds, “A-Yuan said that there was a difference between being willing and wanting to do something, and this is something I very much want to do for A-Yuan. Please?”

Shen Yuan’s frown wavers into the expression of a man who’s being sorely tempted by something he knows he’s not allowed to have.

Even though he is allowed to have this. Binghe has been suggesting it for weeks, after all.

It seems that the constant temptation has finally paid off, however, as Shen Yuan caves after a few half-hearted protests of not having enough fresh produce (there’s a market a street down) or of not wanting to keep Luo Binghe too long (he can work fast, and besides, he just got here. He can stay for at least a few hours without it becoming an issue).

Da Qing follows him around the kitchen as Binghe prepares the food, meowing every so often until Shen Yuan picks the kitten up, sighing when Da Qing clambers onto his shoulder and starts licking his hair industriously.

His Shizun is silent for a moment, leaning against the wall. “I know this might not be the best time to bring this up, but Gongyi Xiao is planning to move back into his room upstairs.” Shen Yuan strokes Da Qing, shifting on his feet. “I just wanted to let you know, so it won’t make things…awkward, if you two run into eachother.”

Binghe returns the spoon in his hand to a small bowl of spices. “A-Yuan does not need to worry. We are on much better terms.”

He had already apologized, and while he may not be particularly attached to the man, he respects Gongyi Xiao’s talent and character, despite the fact that he had been an unknowing pawn in Huan Hua’s schemes, manipulated and used until he had figured out their game and helped bring his Sect down.

“Good.” Shen Yuan moves Da Qing’s paw off his mouth, and the kitten hops down from the human’s shoulder. “I know Ning Yingying has probably told you already, but Gongyi Xiao will also keep assisting with classes on Qing Jing. Just…so you know. Ning Yingying wants to focus on the older disciples, and apparently the younger ones love him, if the way they dog-piled him is any indication.” Shen Yuan snickers. “At least my disciples never tried that on me.”

Binghe imagines the disciples his age crowding around his Shizun, being so close—too close—to him, and feels a flare of irritation. But then the mental image morphs into his Shizun surrounded by small children with Shen Yuan’s bright, clear eyes and Binghe’s fluffy curls and the idea becomes much, much more palatable, if not more realistic.

Shen Yuan, of course, is blissfully unaware of Luo Binghe’s sudden daze, leaning his head back on the wall.

“Besides, Ning Yingying might as well take advantage of his offers to help, so—” His eyes narrow at something behind Binghe, clicking his tongue. “—Da Qing! Off the counter!”

Luo Binghe’s head turns, and he successfully dodges as the kitten sends a bowl flying, spraying spices across the kitchen. Unfortunately, the half-demon’s escape sets him off-balance for when Da Qing jumps straight at his shoulder with a surprising amount of force, apparently startled by the clatter. It’s just enough to push Binghe fully off balance and towards Shen Yuan, whose eyes widen as the Heavenly Demon tilts towards him.

Luo Binghe manages to catch himself on the wall before he accidentally crashes into Shen Yuan, but that just leaves him with a hand right on either side of the smaller man’s shoulders. The human’s arms, held up to prevent Luo Binghe from tripping onto him, are pressed against the Heavenly Demon’s chest.

He freezes.

Shen Yuan’s lips part, mirroring the sheer shock in his widened eyes, and Luo Binghe can’t help zeroing in on them.

Can’t help wanting.

“Um,” his Shizun says, adorably flustered. He doesn’t take his hands off Binghe’s chest.

“Yes, A-Yuan?”

He could swear that Shen Yuan’s pupils dilate at the quiet rasp of his voice.

“Uh…I mean, sorry about Da Qing being an agent of chaos and…you know…um…” The other man trails off when Binghe leans forward, just a little.

“Unfortunately, this Luo Binghe cannot say that he ‘knows.’” The half-demon cocks his head. “Enlighten this one, Shizun.”

Oh, Shen Yuan’s pupils are definitely dilated now.

“I—” The human looks away, licking his lips nervously. “Da Qing just has no manners.” His brow furrows. “Another leftover wife plot or s-someth—” Those brown eyes widen even further, like Shen Yuan just realized he’d said something wrong.

“Wife plot?”

Shen Yuan actually jumps, patting Luo Binghe’s chest in a gesture that he takes as a request to back off. He does, turning aside and letting Shen Yuan stoop to pick up the dropped bowl.

“N-nothing to worry about right now, totally irrelevant ahaha—”

The Heavenly Demon steps up behind Shen Yuan, who’s trying and failing to look nonchalant as he sets the bowl down on the counter next to the work area.

“‘Irrelevant’,” Luo Binghe hums, noting the deepening red of his Shizun’s ears. “Still, please indulge this humble one’s curiosity.” He takes a single step closer, brushing against the other man’s back. “Is this about your novel Luo Binghe again?”

Shen Yuan turns around, almost bumping into the half-demon’s chest. “I think we’ve already established that the novel isn’t an accurate reflection of what actually happens here.”

“En.” Luo Binghe can’t resist straightening the collar of Shen Yuan’s robes, lingering maybe a little longer than he should have. “This one is just curious.” He puts on his best pleading expression. “Tell me, Shizun?”

A pause, then a sigh.

“Well…you were originally supposed to have…um. Story arcs for a whole harem. Like—as in…multiple wives.”

“Multiple, hm?” 

Shen Yuan shuffles, nodding. 

“How many?”

“W-well, um. Quite a few. Rounding down, around…five. Um. Hundred.”

“Hundred?” Binghe laughs, taken aback. “How…excessive. Why would I want that many wives?”

Shen Yuan shrugs, not meeting his eyes. “Too much stamina, I guess?” A mix of embarrassment and something much nicer hits the Heavenly Demon’s sensitive nose. “Don’t ask me how I know that!!!”

His Shizun is really too cute not to tease.

“But A-Yuan,” he pouts, “you just make me more curious when you say that.” Luo Binghe edges even closer, watching Shen Yuan’s face carefully, but the human just smells even more…well. Edible.

“A-Yuan sounded doubtful of this one’s…stamina. Would he perhaps like a demonstration, to see for himself?”

Shen Yuan’s hands fly up over his face, failing to hide the sudden red of his cheeks. “Nope, not necessary!! I believe you!!”

Luo Binghe winks. “If Shizun says so.”

Perhaps another time.

He pulls away, letting go of his disappointment as he turns to the hallway. “Would you like me to catch Da Qing before he tracks spices all over your house?”

Shen Yuan coughs awkwardly from the kitchen. “Yeah, uh, we should do that. Fu—f-find Da Qing, I mean!”

“Of course, A-Yuan. There is no activity this one would prefer to do with you than track down your misbehaving cat.”

There’s a satisfying splutter from behind him.

“Look—if anything, you’re a bad influence! Da Qing only seems to misbehave around you!”

The half-demon bends down and extracts the kitten from underneath a cabinet. The little thing doesn’t even bother attempting escape, giving the Demon Lord an innocent look.

“If Shizun says so,” Luo Binghe repeats solemnly, handing the bundle of fur back to Shen Yuan with a bow. “This one promises to set a better example.”

He makes good on that promise, too, doing his best to be the very model of restraint around his Shizun, keeping the flirting to a minimum—except that Shen Yuan often reciprocates, and how is he supposed to stop himself from flirting back when his Shizun looks at him like that?

Regardless of Luo Binghe’s quality as a feline role model, however, that evening is hardly the last of Da Qing’s antics over their next three visits. Indeed, on one memorable occasion, Shen Yuan doesn’t come to the door but breathlessly calls Luo Binghe in to find the human wrapping a soaking wet, mewing Da Qing in a fluffy towel with the grim expression of a man going off to battle. Da Qing just gives Luo Binghe a pitiful look from inside his cocoon, all sad round eyes and lowered ears.

“Don’t look him in the face,” Shen Yuan warns, too late. “That’s how he gets you.” He rubs a corner of the towel carefully over the kitten’s head. “Little guilt-tripper. He splashed through muddy puddles contaminated with who knows what and then expected not to get a bath, I swear—”

It’s adorable. The cat too, but Luo Binghe suspects that its pathetic demeanor is a front. He mentally commends Da Qing for his performance—sheerly for the believability, of course! A pink-faced, soap-splattered, rather disheveled Shen Yuan is just a bonus.

His Shizun cuts off that thought when he holds out the bundle of cat. “Would you please hold him so I can go get a brush? I can’t just put him down or he’ll wriggle out to spite me.”

The Heavenly Demon accepts, amused, and Shen Yuan flits into another room as Binghe adjusts his charge. Even swaddled in soft fabric as Da Qing is, the kitten is tiny in his arms—even smaller than a normal cat. Although given the three tails and the intelligent glint in his eyes, there’s a lot more to the little creature than his physical size.

He scratches under Da Qing’s chin, careful not to press too hard against the delicate-feeling bones, and the kitten purrs, pushing his head into the half-demon’s palm.

At the feeling of eyes on him, Luo Binghe looks up to see Shen Yuan staring, brush in hand but seemingly rooted in place.

Almost…fond. Captivated.

Shen Yuan is luminous, Binghe thinks. Glowing in the late afternoon sun.

Perfect.

The moment breaks when his Shizun startles at being caught looking, but Binghe still dwells on it even after he leaves hours later, picking stray fur off his robes but still unable to find it in him to be annoyed.

It’s the little moments like those that he enjoys the most. Shen Yuan’s laughter is brighter and more frequent as he is now—his sense of humor sharper and less subtle, unafraid of acting out of turn and offending the System. His aloof grandeur is gone, yes, but Luo Binghe finds he much prefers the Shizun who smiles and laughs and speaks his true mind than the Shizun who had been forced to bury his emotions and jokes and the “references” Luo Binghe still doesn’t understand. Shen Yuan’s happiness and kindness shine through like moonlight, every bit as beautiful and graceful as the man himself.

Shen Yuan seems freer and happier than he’d been as Shen Qingqiu, and Luo Binghe, greedy as he is, basks in it. It may not be everything he wants, but it’s far more than he deserves. Shizun is happy, and so is Binghe.

Really, he’s the happiest he has been in a long, long time.

…which means, of course, that something just has to go wrong.

Honestly, Shen Yuan should have seen it coming. The System has never been the most forgiving of entities, and he’s crossed…quite a few lines. Blowing his own cover as a transmigrator sky-high (and to the protagonist at that) probably encompassed several of those.

In retrospect, it probably happened because the Emperor had been quite preoccupied with a minor uprising in the Southern demon kingdom for the past week or so. Apparently it was more of a land and resource struggle than a political one, but it still needed Luo Binghe’s attention to prevent it from growing into a full-on war between two demon tribes. He’d even had to reluctantly cut their last meeting short to take care of it!

And apparently, the System could charge itself pretty fucking fast if there was no one to deal with it. If only it had put this much effort into giving him alternatives to the Endless Abyss arc! That would have been really fucking nice.

But it is what it is, and he can’t change it now.

When it does kick in, and it does, it kicks in suddenly and without warning. One minute he’s turning towards the stairs to his bedroom, and the next he’s feeling dizzy as a familiar, near-robotic voice is chirping [Punishment loading. Please press ‘Continue.’]

And in the style of those shitty ads that didn’t even have an exit option, there isn’t even a way to close the damn notification hovering in front of him.

Not that Shen Yuan will let that stop him from reaching into his sleeve for the jade Binghe had given him, because the System can fuck right off. If it really takes payment in emotional trauma, he’s already had enough of that to fund at least a century of retirement. They can check with his accountant, his middle finger.

Unfortunately, the world goes dark before he can get his hands on the token.

. . .

Ding!

[Welcome to the System interface! Punishment loaded. Initiating punishment sequence.]

The first thing he feels is cold. The kind of cold that penetrates skin and flesh and sinks deep into bone.

Then there’s the pressure around him, familiar and petrifying.

He can’t move.

He opens his mouth and tastes blood and earth and a wave of panic slams into him.

Memories start pushing their way up and Shen Yuan pushes them desperately back down. He’s not going back to that place—never. He recovered, damnit. He’d stopped having those nightmares. He doesn’t want to go back, he won’t—

[Please select one: [Continue punishment dream sequence] [Permanent ejection] ]

Go to hell, Shen Yuan wants to say, but he can’t pull in enough air to voice it, instead trying to mentally click out of the damn pop-up. He has absolutely zero desire to deal with the System’s bullshit today, no thank you, he’s getting a fucking refund and filing a lawsuit.

He can’t fucking move.

Wait.

…dream sequence?

It had been pretty late when the System had struck.

Worth a shot.

Shen Yuan closes his eyes, summoning what little air he can into his lungs. If he’s in a dream, there’s a chance that other people are too.

He mentally crosses his fingers and screams Binghe’s name, focusing intently.

The pressure on his chest tightens, the cold seeping further into him as another warning ding! cuts through the silence, and then—

Light bursts into the world, so vibrant and alert that Shen Yuan has to blink away the imprints dancing across his retinas.

“A-Yuan?”

Relief floods through him so quickly he can feel himself shiver from the sudden relaxing of his taut muscles.

“Binghe.”

Hands take Shen Yuan’s, exceedingly gentle despite all their hidden power. “Is A-Yuan alright?”

The short answer is no, not really, but Shen Yuan casually dismisses that thought in favor of gravitating towards Binghe’s warmth, twining his fingers shakily between the half-demon’s and leaning into his chest.

Deep inhale, slow exhale. Everything will be fine.

“You heard,” he murmurs, determinedly ignoring the blood and dirt still clinging to his dream-self’s skin and the trembling in his arms.

“I heard,” Binghe replies softly, stroking the human's wrist. “And I felt.” His eyes narrow over Shen Yuan’s shoulder. “Please forgive this Luo Binghe’s error.”

Shen Yuan feels something fizzle at the back of his neck and turns to see what appears to be a neon red thread fading to a dull pink as it pulls away.

He looks up and stares.

It’s not Binghe’s dream realm, or at least, not as Shen Yuan has ever seen it. It’s not lit by natural light, but feels almost…artificial, like fluorescent illumination filtering down through a heavy mist. There are shapes looming in the fog, like mountains, except that they’re barely taller than Shen Yuan. Like some kind of scale model formed from condensed mist.

More than that are the threads—dozens of them. Like the red one, they’re in various neon shades—blues and purples with some greens and faint reds in the distance—glowing as they branch off one direction and another, draped across the landscape and vanishing in the mist high above.

It’s fascinating. Ethereally beautiful in its glowing colors, really, if it weren’t what Shen Yuan thinks it is.

“So—is all this…the System?”

Binghe’s brow furrows. “Not quite. This is…” He nods vaguely at all the glimmering threads around them. “It is simply a visualization of what I can sense.” He shifts, eyes fixed on his own feet. “There is more, I just…can’t feel the details.”

A visualization. That made sense. No wonder it lacked the screams and wails of past clients that he would have expected. Perhaps some fire and brimstone, for flavor. Or maybe just maniacal cackling. Binghe was still too innocent to its ways to add that.

Speaking of Binghe, the Heavenly Demon’s head is bowed, shoulders hunched in what seems like shame.

“This worthless disciple was distracted and allowed the System to harm Shen Yuan again. This one will accept any punishment Shizun chooses to discipline this one for his negligence.”

“I…? Oh, no, that’s not—” Shen Yuan reaches forward and tilts Binghe’s head up to look at him. “The System is—even I don’t understand what it’s capable of. You are not responsible for what the System does. Its punishments are not your fault. It’s just…an AI that’s programmed to enforce a certain set of rules that I broke, remember? I knew there would be consequences for telling the truth.” He bites his lip, feeling suddenly guilty. “You shouldn’t have to be the one cleaning up my messes, Binghe.”

The half-demon starts to shake his head, but stills when Shen Yuan’s hand moves to his cheek.

“Shizun broke those rules to protect himself from me. I have no excuse for failure in my responsibility to him.”

“Binghe,” Shen Yuan sighs, stroking his thumb over the half-demon’s cheek. “I’m not angry with you, or disappointed, or whatever you’re thinking. You’re the Emperor. You have so many other responsibilities I’m not surprised you lost track of the System.”

Binghe doesn’t look convinced, but Shen Yuan continues before he can protest again.

“In fact, this is actually a great opportunity to figure out how to get of the System permanently.” 

Well, fingers crossed. It could give him a better sense of how the System works, at least, and (ideally) how to shut it down.

“So,” he prompts, moving his hand to Binghe’s hair and patting gently; just as he’d hoped, the Heavenly Demon’s tense shoulders relax at the touch (and Shen Yuan would be lying if he said it didn’t calm him too). “Show your Shizun what you know of how all this works, and we’ll go from there, alright?”

The nod he gets in response is small, almost like Binghe is afraid of dislodging Shen Yuan’s hand.

It’s…adorable, in a way that such a powerful, dangerous man shouldn’t be. But it’s Binghe; he was cute when he was a fresh-faced, innocent teen, and now that he’s an adult he’s…

Still cute and really hot, somehow at the same time.

—nope, not going there right now, no tangents, only debugging, cute demon or no cute demon.

“Shizun.” Binghe hesitates, then raises his own arm. The movement makes the glowing threads around them vibrate and Shen Yuan’s eyes widen when he sees the spot where four or five of them converge on the inside of the half-demon’s forearm, where an IV would have been inserted.

“Ah,” Shen Yuan says faintly. This brings up…a lot of questions. “So is that…uh…normal?”

“When this Luo Binghe found it the first time, it felt like this too. So…it seems that it is normal for me.” His eyebrows draw together. “But it doesn’t feel like this for anyone else.”

Shen Yuan fights the urge to massage his temples in an effort to make this make sense. The problem is right there and already visualized for you. Solve it.

“How did you get rid of it the first time?”

Binghe reaches over with his free hand, gathers the threads in his fist, and unceremoniously yanks them off his arm. Instantly, the misty void blinks blue, then dims as every light goes out. The mechanical hum around them slides into silence, leaving nothing but the vermilion glow of Binghe’s eyes and demon mark.

…huh.

The first thought that comes to mind is if it lost power when it disconnected from Binghe, then holy fuck, was it using him as some kind of glorified BATTERY?, quickly followed by what kind of bootleg Matrix IS this shit?, and then fuck, it has to be powered by him, right? He’s the protagonist, and it didn’t reactivate until after Shen Yuan had been in contact with him again, so…

“Shit,” he mutters. “That is so fucked up.”

Binghe’s shoulders slump and Shen Yuan hastily pats the other man’s head again. “Not you, Binghe. You’re doing so well for me, I promise.”

He runs a hand through his hair. Apparently this is the temporary fix—it had worked before, but the System had…come back. Rebooted, somehow.

The answer becomes apparent when Shen Yuan glances down at Binghe’s hand, still gripping the threads, cables, power lines, whatever the fuck they were, and sees the ends moving. Or…trying to, at least, straining towards Luo Binghe like some kind of…

Well, seems like the System is still the absolute worst! Show of hands: who’s surprised? No one? Excellent, you’ve all passed the pop quiz with flying colors. Congratulations!

“Shizun…”

“Hm?”

“I can’t…I don’t know how to get rid of it properly. I’ve tried to destroy it multiple times, but it just…regenerates after every attempt.”

Shen Yuan’s heart sinks. Okay. That doesn’t sound promising, but there has to be a work-around. This is just a visualization built in the Heavenly Demon’s dreamscape, but if Binghe can shut the System off, it has to have some connection to waking reality, right? Maybe there’s a different way to cut the strings and free the puppet.

…thinking about it like that, he suddenly very much dislikes these blue and purple threads, however pretty they may be.

Still, it’s worth trying, worth reaching out and carefully taking one of them between his fingers and squinting at the barely-corporeal line of…text?

Shen Yuan squints. It’s been a long, long time since he’d seen programming, but that little jaunt back into his previous body had jogged some memories. He’d thought about anything and everything he could to distract himself from the darkness and cold, and his admittedly limited experience with this kind of thing had come up at least once in his many moments of desperation.

And upon closer inspection, the thread is definitely made up of code. Or at least…something similar, like a distant relative, mixed with what seems to be fragments of description pulled directly from Proud Immortal Demon Way. There’s a section on the Endless Abyss, interspersed with boxes like [Northwest Cave Lava Pit = active] or [East Canyon Windstorm = null] and a lot of information about this world—for such a complex AI, the System seems to run on surprisingly simple patterns, just based on a massive amount of data.

An idea hits him like a baseball bat to the back of the head, thoughts going fuzzy for a second before he’s looking back up at Binghe, wide-eyed.

“The red thread before—where did it go?”

The half-demon reaches up, dragging one of them down for Shen Yuan to inspect. The transmigrator’s eyes skim across a long series of commands, skittering back to one particular section.

[Unofficial User Protocol] . . . [Meta = locked] [Integral Punishment Process = active] [Punishment Protocol = active]

Shen Yuan swallows. The System may have its own programming language (which makes sense because it’s…well, it’s definitely something else), but it seems relatively straightforward—maybe if he could just…

“Binghe, can you…can you, uh, change this?”

Binghe stares at him, confused. “Possibly…?”

As it turns out, the answer is yes. Yes to switching [Integral Punishment Process = active] to [Integral Punishment Process = null], and yes to switching [Punishment Protocol = active] to [Punishment Protocol = deactivated].

From there, Shen Yuan can only cross his fingers, shivering a little in the cool mist of the dreamscape’s void and praying that this works.

It could work, right? The System is…apparently much more complicated than he’d expected, but this might fix his problems.

It could.

He really, really, really wants it to.

Binghe’s fingers lace hesitantly through his. “Do you think this will work, Shen Yuan?”

And Shang Qinghua said mind reading wasn’t one of Binghe’s powers.

The transmigrator shrugs, squeezing Binghe’s hand tightly. “It’s your dreamscape. You tell me.”

“I trust Shen Yuan’s judgment in this.” The half-demon looks up into the darkness above them, a hazy glow around him. “If it were up to me, I would tear this System into tiny pieces. But as satisfying as that would be, it is…ineffective.”

“That might have been,” Shen Yuan agrees, “but I think that this is working.”

The thread in Binghe’s free hand is a dull gray now, no longer neon red or pale pink. It no longer strains towards Shen Yuan, even when Binghe hesitantly lets the System light up again.

The replacement text remains unchanged.

It hits him then that this…this might just work.

Still no change. It’s been five, six, seven minutes now, and no change.

Fuck, he’s really—he’s really free. Suddenly, and without much ceremony, but he doesn’t even care.

He can hardly believe it, but gods, has Shen Yuan been dreaming about this for over a decade.

He reaches up and pats Binghe on the head, only it turns more into running his fingers through the Heavenly Demon’s hair, feeling Binghe lean into his touch, those glimmering red eyes fluttering shut.

“Binghe. Would you mind…changing the scenery? Taking me somewhere else that isn’t…dark and misty and cold, you know?”

The half-demon cracks a smile. “As A-Yuan wishes.”

Shen Yuan blinks, and then the world flips around him in a rush of air, leaving him standing next to Binghe in his room above the bookshop, simulated late afternoon light filtering in through the window.

“I thought that Shen Yuan might prefer somewhere more familiar. Somewhere that feels safe.”

The transmigrator meets Binghe’s gaze, hand still wrapped around the other man’s.

“I do feel safe,” he says quietly.

Binghe gently pulls his hand out of Shen Yuan’s. “Would Shizun rather have me release him from the dream? This one understands if he needs to recover from his…experience.”

The corner of the Heavenly Demon’s mouth turns down, guilt flashing over his face, and Shen Yuan is having none of that. The System has done enough damage to Shen Yuan’s (second and third) life; he won’t let it get to Binghe too.

“This is fine, Binghe.” Shen Yuan turns, pointing to the bed. “Sit, please.”

Binghe sits.

Shen Yuan puts a hand on the half-demon’s shoulder and pushes him flat on the bed. Binghe’s brow furrows in confusion but he stays there obligingly while Shen Yuan flops down next to him, staring up at the ceiling as he slips his hand into the half-demon’s.

“You really shouldn’t blame yourself for the System, you know,” he says. “It just…does its own thing. It’ll tell you that its purpose is ‘fixing the plot’ or whatever, but it’s actually being a total dick. Like, if there was a douchebag Olympics, it would take gold every time. Wouldn’t even have to turn up to win.”

Binghe’s laughter sends a pleasant shiver through Shen Yuan.

“And anyway, it worked out, didn’t it?”

The half-demon hums, sounding unconvinced, and Shen Yuan sighs.

“Hey, Shang Qinghua still blames himself for this too—” he lifts his plant leg for effect “—but I’m not complaining. Better a slow but steady recovery process than going back to my old body and decomposing in my coffin again—”

Binghe sits up abruptly. “What?”

Shen Yuan suppresses a groan. He doesn’t want to sit up right now. His dreamscape bed is nice and soft, though still not ideal for uncomfortable conversations.

Ah well.

“When I died as Shen Qingqiu, I didn’t have a back-up plan prepared yet. So I…got stuck in my old Shen Yuan body. Which was already dead. And then in a coffin. For…for a while.” He stares up at the ceiling, trying not to think about it too hard.

“Shang Qinghua retrieved the flesh seeds, set up an array to retrieve my soul. The first time didn’t work, but the second did. I mean.” He swallows, hard. “Pulling a soul between dimensions is very difficult, unfortunately.”

Binghe’s fingers tighten around Shen Yuan’s. “Then how did he manage it?”

A small smile pulls at Shen Yuan’s carefully blank expression. “He may or may not have broken into the Holy Mausoleum to copy down the soul array there, and…borrowed an artifact or two.”

“…what?”

Shen Yuan finally turns his head towards Binghe, giving him a wry smile. “Yep. Shang Qinghua infiltrated one of the most heavily secured demon territories…with your cousin’s help.”

Binghe chokes. “What.”

The transmigrator almost laughs. “He owed Shang Qinghua a favor. Both of them will tell you they met when Shang Qinghua started to investigate Huan Hua Palace, but he actually stumbled across Zhuzhi-lang in Bailu Forest when he came by to collect the Sun and Moon Dew Flower Seed. They ran into Gongyi Xiao—when he was still with the Palace, this was way back—and luckily for Zhuzhi-lang, Shang Qinghua told Gongyi Xiao to keep an eye on him. Your cousin started following him around because A-Xiao was nice, and when A-Xiao resigned, he smuggled Zhuzhi-lang back into the Demon Realm.”

Shen Yuan shrugs. “From there, Shang Qinghua clued you in to your blood connection; you helped him; and now I hear Zhuzhi-lang is enjoying his post in the Southern Demon Kingdom.”

Which is a relief, because Airplane had worried that the snake demon’s appearance could have ended much, much worse for everyone involved. Like…full-blooded Heavenly Demon Tianlang-Jun, aka Binghe’s not-so-great dad, worse, if Zhuzhi-lang hadn’t been around Gongyi Xiao so much.

The Heavenly Demon tilts his head. “Impressive.”

Shen Yuan smiles, genuinely this time. “Just don’t tell Shang Qinghua I told you. I only heard about it through Gongyi Xiao, and I’m pretty sure Shang Qinghua is trying to expunge the entire thing from his memory.”

He can hardly blame him. The day Shang Qinghua was willing to sneak into the Holy Mausoleum for him was the day Shen Yuan lost any right to tell him off about his crappy world.

Not that he doesn’t remind the author every so often. It’s just more generic complaining these days.

He remembers what he was going to say and waves a hand. “Anyway, blatant exposition aside, my point is that you shouldn’t blame yourself for everything that happened with the System. There have been hitches, yes, but we ended up here. And all things considered, I think here is pretty damn good.” 

Shen Yuan reluctantly sits up so he can take Binghe’s face with both his hands and force the other man to meet his eyes. “I just want you to keep in mind that I’m not angry. I’m not disappointed. And I can understand if you are, but it really isn’t your fault. Sure, you can manipulate the System in a way I can’t, but it’s far beyond either of our understandings.”

Binghe’s hands slide over Shen Yuan’s wrists. “A-Yuan…”

The human scoots even closer, maneuvering onto his knees on the bed as the glimmer in Binghe’s eyes trails down his face.

And now he’s crying, because of Shen Yuan. Fuck.

“Binghe, I—”

He can see every single one of the Heavenly Demon’s eyelashes at this distance, see the just-barely-unnatural light playing over smooth skin and perfect cheekbones and tempting pink lips that look so very soft—

He thinks the tremor that follows that observation is just his imagination, but Binghe groans and gently removes Shen Yuan’s hands from his face, pressing a brief kiss to the inside of each of his wrists.

“A-Yuan, I apologize for the interruption. It seems that I’m starting to wake up.”

Ah yes, the “inconvenient interruption at an important moment” trope. Shen Yuan should have seen it coming. He’s been spoiled by actually good literature and forgot that this is the world of Proud Immortal Demon Way.

The light “outside” is growing blinding.

“I—this one may still visit in two days, yes?”

Was that ever in question? He wouldn’t mind if Binghe dropped by the next day, even though that isn’t their exact schedule.

“Of course, although I—”

The dream breaks apart and Shen Yuan is back on the floor in his bookshop, crumpled at the base of the stairs.

Fuck.

He pries himself off the floorboards, griping under his breath at the System and his own sore muscles, and trudges upstairs, flopping onto his bed and groaning in relief.

It’s done. He doesn’t have to worry about the System ever again. He doesn’t have to stress about punishments and points and all that bullshit anymore!

…but he kind of would have liked a little more time in that other dream. Just a few minutes…

Anyway. Recovery.

Shen Yuan manages to get in a few hours of blissfully System- and dream-free rest before he needs to wake up and start the workday like a responsible adult. He ends up letting himself sleep in—a little celebration never hurt anyone and today is usually a slow one anyway—before washing up and going about his work.

He’s not antsy, just a little…frustrated.

He wants to see Binghe again. And it would have been easier if Binghe came to him, but the hours tick past and...nothing.

Well. Not exactly nothing.

It’s mid-afternoon, and Shen Yuan is just minding his own business, organizing a new shipment of novels into their separate categories (and definitely not daydreaming about a certain half-demon), when the door opens with a rush of cold air. 

His eyebrows almost shoot up when he sees Shang Qinghua stepping into the bookshop wearing robes in very specific shades of blue and silver, a new (probably very expensive) necklace glittering at his throat, and one of Mobei-jun’s hands gripping his waist possessively.

Now, for most people giving off those context clues, Shen Yuan would assume they had finally gotten together. But Shang Qinghua is dense enough to catapult himself from "Oblivious Idiot" into an entirely different category for “Oblivious Idiots Whose Love Interest Definitely Loves Them Back But They’re Too Dumb (And/Or Willfully Blind) To Notice,” so he won’t assume anything just yet.

“Mobei-jun, Shang Qinghua,” Shen Yuan says neutrally. “Can this one help you with something?”

The ice demon stares silently at him, but Shang Qinghua grins, albeit a little nervously.

“Hey! I’m more here to check in on you, if anything.” The other transmigrator makes to step forward but the hand on his waist drags him back.

Unblinking, Mobei-jun makes eye contact with Shen Yuan and lowers his head to Shang Qinghua’s neck, hovering over a sliver of bare skin, and bites down—probably just a nip, because the author only stiffens a little, looking surprised, but it’s a very territorial gesture nonetheless.

Shen Yuan politely refrains from rolling his eyes at the posturing. He has his own demon, thank you very much, and he isn’t interested in stealing Shang Qinghua. (As if Shang Qinghua would even let himself be stolen.) But maybe if they’re lucky, this will finally jog Airplane’s oblivious mind into a realization.

From the way the author laughs nervously, maybe not.

Oh well.

Mobei-jun’s head tilts like he’s listening to something, and his glower intensifies. “One is still alive. This lord must take care of it.” Glacial eyes flicker suspiciously over Shen Yuan. “I will return soon.” He glares down at Shang Qinghua. “Behave.”

Shen Yuan shakes his head as the ice demon disappears again. Of course Airplane likes his men (or more accurately, man, singular, as there had only ever been one the other transmigrator was interested in) possessive. And a little bloodthirsty too, if that little snippet of speech was anything to go by.

“So,” he begins as the other man shuffles over to the table and sits down. “Any particular reason both of you are here?”

Shang Qinghua chuckles distractedly. “I think my king wants to make sure I don’t get in trouble again.”

“What do you mean, ‘again’?”

“Oh, yeah.” Shang Qinghua shifts, patting his own side rather stiffly. “I got stabbed.”

Shen Yuan almost drops the stack of books he’d been moving out of the way. “Stabbed?!”

Airplane winces. “Yeah, some assassins were trying to infiltrate the palace, but one of them ran into me instead of any of the actual advisors, so…” He gestures down at his wounded side. “Stabbed.” Shang Qinghua wrinkles his nose. “More a waste of time on the assassin’s part, honestly.”

“Uh huh,” Shen Yuan says, unimpressed. If Shang Qinghua weren’t so oblivious, he’d realize that the assassin had actually calculated perfectly.

“I was planning on visiting you anyway, but I got a little interrupted with the whole…assassination.”

“So Mobei-jun brought you here for safekeeping, then?”

Airplane shifts, expression going a little cagey. “Part of it. It’s smarter for me to be out of the way so Mobei-jun can go handle the rest of it.” He sighs, placing his elbow on the table and slumping down with his chin on his hand. “Because to be fair I would probably get murdered pretty easily on my own.”

“You’re an immortal cultivator. You’re not exactly defenseless.”

“I guess,” Shang Qinghua says, “but beating other people up isn’t exactly my forte! Especially when they’re demons, or more powerful than me!”

“You say that like you didn’t break Linguang-jun’s arm in three places a couple years back,” Shen Yuan replies dryly, “and he was a demon and more powerful than you. I don’t think most assassins will be on his level.”

Shang Qinghua huffs defensively. “Hey, when that happened, I hadn’t slept in thirty-six hours and I’d just found out he was one of Huan Hua’s connections! My self-preservation instincts were at an all-time low, okay?! And no one was watching—you know I have a reputation to uphold!” He waves a finger. “Plus, Luo Binghe broke a lot more than just his arm when he tossed that asshole off a cliff.”

“Yeah, I heard about that. Though isn’t it, like…a little excessive?”

Shang Qinghua shrugs. “Maybe. I mean, it probably wouldn’t have happened if Linguang-jun hadn’t insulted Ning Yingying on top of everything, because there weren’t too many clear links back to Huan Hua. Like, Linguang-jun was a criminal, sure, but he was a good one. I had to go through a mountain of Huan Hua’s records to get even a trace of his interactions with the Palace Master and his spiritual beast black market.” He frowns. “And you’d think it wouldn’t be so easy to just…disappear over two dozen people, but apparently Linguang-jun made it happen.”

Shen Yuan’s stomach turns. “You mean…”

“I really didn’t tell you?” The other man grimaces. “As far as I can tell, most unsuspecting witnesses got trafficked into the northern demon territories under Linguang-jun’s control and, uh…” He draws a finger across his throat. “Very illegal on both ends, but Linguang-jun was never really a fan of Mobei-jun’s no-tolerance policy on eating people, so I’m hardly surprised.”

Shen Yuan makes a soft noise of disgust. After everything Shang Qinghua had told him over the years, he isn’t even shocked by that new information, but it’s still horrifying. “Good riddance to him, then.”

Shang Qinghua nods fervently. “You can say that again. I’m no sadist, but watching him get thrown off a cliff not once but twice was so damn cathartic, you have no idea.”

“Twice?!”

“Yep.” Airplane takes a cheerful sip of tea. “Linguang-jun just couldn’t keep his mouth shut when he should have.”

Shen Yuan feels like there’s more to that story. “And how did Mobei-jun feel about his boss beating up his uncle?”

The other human hides a smile in his cup. “I mean…I never said it was Luo Binghe kicking him off the cliff the second time.”

Incredulous laughter bubbles up in Shen Yuan’s chest. “Huh.”

Shang Qinghua shakes his head, smirking. “Catharsis, I told you. Linguang-jun had been a thorn in Mobei-jun’s side—and mine too, honestly—for quite a while. It was just that one extra betrayal on a pile of past and ongoing mishaps that got Linguang-jun pushed over the edge…literally and figuratively.” Another small shrug. “It’s no great loss, all things considered. That man was a menace. I mean really, trying to depose his own nephew and undermining him at every turn? What a dick.”

He waves a hand. “But that’s not why I’m here.” Airplane sets his cup down with a sly look over the table. “How are things going between you and Luo Binghe?”

Shen Yuan narrows his eyes at the author. “He’s been very considerate. Why do you ask?”

Shang Qinghua sets his chin on his hand. “Bro, you two are like, the number one source of gossip. You’ve got that whole ‘mysterious love interest’ thing going for you. If there were tabloids here they’d be speculating like crazy! Plus you’re my friend! It’s my job to make sure you’re happy.”

“We’re doing really well, actually.” Shen Yuan runs a finger around the rim of his cup, pausing for a second. “Though I have to ask, how long did it take for you to persuade Mobei-jun to take you to me, of all people? We both know he’s not exactly my biggest fan.”

Shang Qinghua sighs. “Like I told you, I was planning on coming anyway, and it just ended up with him taking me in person. I’m not exactly trapped in his palace, let me remind you. I just tell people that so I don’t have to leave too often.”

Shen Yuan narrows his eyes. “And Mobei-jun, with no outside pressure, agreed to leave you alone with me?” He pokes Shang Qinghua with his fan. “Really?”

He’s met with a dramatic sigh and then a whine when Shen Yuan prods harder. “Bro, you don’t need to poke me like that! So mean!” Shang Qinghua pouts pathetically. “But you know how hard it is to find time to visit you, since I’m basically Mobei-jun’s accountant and personal assistant at this point—not that I mind!—and you’re right, he’s not super enthusiastic about me going off without him, even to An Ding, and anyway I’d honestly rather stay in the Demon Realm where people respect what I do than have to deal with Cang Qiong second-guessing me every other minute—” he squeaks when Shen Yuan loses patience and swats him from across the table.

“So okay, there was a teeny bit of outside pressure because Luo Binghe came by this morning and he didn’t exactly have orders but he strongly suggested that I should drop by to cheer you up.” He frowns. “Something about…bad dreams. I got a little sidetracked by the whole getting stabbed issue, but hey.” Airplane spreads his arms with a lopsided grin. “Got here eventually, right?”

Shen Yuan lowers his fan, tapping it on his palm. “Ah,” he manages.

Airplane’s teasing expression fades to earnestness. “You know he really cares about you, right? And not just about…” he dodges a swat that never comes. “…not just about getting into your pants. Although…that too.”

Shen Yuan taps his fan on the table. “Surprisingly aware comments for someone so oblivious he can’t see that his ice demon boss looks at him the exact same way.”

Shang Qinghua squawks and twists to peer around the room, just in case said ice demon boss had suddenly reappeared. “Bro!! He’ll be back any minute, can you at least—English?”

“Whatever,” Shen Yuan concedes, rolling his eyes as he slips into the other language. “But really, are you two ever going to confront your feelings? Seriously, he’s not even here and the unresolved sexual tension is stifling, I swear.”

The other transmigrator holds up a defensive hand. “Hey, no, we’re here to talk about your relationship—how did we even get to this subject?!—really, if anyone’s sexual tension is in question, it would be yours! Dude, you’re literally being courted! And you’re totally reciprocating!” He squints. “Have you bought lube yet? That sh—”

He ducks beneath an actual attempted swat this time, grinning at Shen Yuan’s scandalized expression.

“You—! With the way Mobei-jun has been acting around you and his penchant for roughness, shouldn’t lube be your concern, Airplane?!”

That just gets him a shrug. “Well, I’m not the one who’s going to get dicked down by the Emperor. We both know what that entails.”

Shen Yuan’s face lights on fire (or at least it feels like it does) and he shakes his fan warningly at Shang Qinghua. “You shameless little fucker! That is not…”

The author gives him a sly grin even as he leans away from Shen Yuan’s indignation. “Sure, sure, whatever you say…Imperial Consort Shen.”

“Wha—no,” Shen Yuan says, pointing a warning finger at Shang Qinghua and doing his best to pretend he isn’t blushing furiously. “No. Stop that.”

Shang Qinghua raises his hands, grinning faux-innocently. “Whatever Empress Shen says.”

Shen Yuan chokes, dealing two quick smacks to Shang Qinghua’s chest with the closed fan. “You’re one to talk, Queen Shang.”

That, apparently, is a much more effective tactic, because the author hides his suddenly red face in his hands. “You’re so mean sometimes, bro! It’s just a crush, and you know it. It’s not…going anywhere.”

Blind! Utterly blind! Shen Yuan has rarely been so tempted to snap his fan over Airplane’s dumbassery! Does he need a PowerPoint presentation? A signed affidavit?? Fucking skywriting, perhaps???

“Just a crush, is it? So Mobei-jun just goes around marking all his retainers like a lover, does he?”

“W-well—”

“Giving them expensive gifts? Keeping them by his side 24/7? Acting as their personal bodyguard when they get hurt?” Shen Yuan waves a hand in frustration. “Are the dots just not connecting? Because they are definitely there.” He narrows his eyes. “And didn’t Mobei-jun also make a point to very publicly beat the shit out of some north-eastern demon noble who assumed you were a pleasure slave and tried to take advantage of you? And, like…announced that you were not to be touched without his permission while he snapped the guy’s leg?”

“Yeah, he did, but that’s not the point!” Shang Qinghua wrings his hands. 

Shen Yuan rolls his eyes. “Then what is the point, bro? For my sanity, if not yours, just confess already.”

The other man’s eyes widen comically. “I couldn’t! I—I’m not under any delusions of being worthy of him. I’m not even close! It would be way too presumptuous of me to—do that.”

Shen Yuan arches an eyebrow, taking a skeptical (and calming) sip of tea so he doesn’t feel tempted to throw it at Shang Qinghua in frustration. “To confess something that everyone probably already knows?”

Shang Qinghua whines. “Bro! I can not just walk up to Mobei-jun and go, ‘just so you know, I love you’! He would kill me!”

“I wouldn’t.”

Airplane yelps, and Shen Yuan does his best impression of a garden hose—not his finest moment, and certainly a waste of good tea, but hey, it’s warranted, because what. The actual. Fuck?

The ice demon is standing in the doorway to the back room again, gaze fixed on Shang Qinghua. 

“We didn’t switch out of English, did we?” Shen Yuan hisses warily, because it’s high unlikely that Mobei-jun managed to get his hands on a…what, an all-language translator? He doesn’t recall any of those existing in this world—but it’s still possible. Not to mention that he was Luo Binghe’s best spy in the original—and that probably involved picking up code.

…or foreign languages spoken by distracted An Ding Peak Lords.

Mobei-jun’s head tilts slightly, eyes narrowing a fraction like he’s trying to parse the sentence.

Shang Qinghua just whimpers into his fingers, so it’s apparent that he’ll be no help in this situation.

Shen Yuan may have lost Shen Qingqiu’s eternal deadpan, but he can still fold his hands with a semblance of calm, switching back to the common PIDW dialect. “Do you speak English, my lord?”

The demon blinks slowly. “This Mobei-jun can understand some…'English.’”

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the FUCK.

Shen Yuan turns his head very slowly to Shang Qinghua and glares.

The other transmigrator just squeaks.

Alright then.

“May this one ask how, Lord Mobei?”

Mobei-jun’s brow creases almost imperceptibly, still focused on the other human. “Shang Qinghua used it frequently for some time. This lord listened, and remembered…and asked.”

Shen Yuan pinches the bridge of his nose, stifling his desire to scream externally as well as internally. He should have known this was a possibility, damnit. This is what happens when you give approximately two (2) people in this world high IQs—they overcompensate for the cannon fodder.

“Wait, is that why you stayed with me so long and then went through all my drawers for paper after I got drunk forever ago?!” At least Shang Qinghua has graduated from frozen to shocked. It’s a very small improvement, but still an improvement.

The ice demon’s head inclines a fraction. “Partly.”

“Partly?” 

If Shang Qinghua’s pitch goes any higher, he’ll probably shatter Shen Yuan’s nice, delicate porcelain cups. (If he does, he’s paying for them.)

Shen Yuan himself inches a safe distance out of the line of fire (or in this context, eye-fucking, because he may not be able to read all of Mobei-jun’s expressions like Shang Qinghua can, but he knows hunger when he sees it), feeling highly uncomfortable with where this is going but determined to make sure it plays out properly.

“Shang Qinghua is not careful when he is drunk. He often injures himself accidentally, and this king will not permit that.” Mobei-jun’s eyes move slowly over Shang Qinghua’s face, which is still bright pink. The demon takes a step forward. “Shang Qinghua also blushes when he is drunk.”

The author blinks rapidly. “What does that have to do with anything?” He pales briefly, belatedly adding, “My king…”

The temperature drops as Mobei-jun moves forward again. “Shang Qinghua looks particularly beautiful when he blushes.”

Shang Qinghua could probably double as a heat lamp with how hard he’s flushing now. “P-particularly?”

“Mm.”

“You think I—I’m—”

“Beautiful,” Mobei-jun rumbles, reaching out and taking Shang Qinghua’s hand with both of his own to pull him to his feet. “Beautiful and mine.”

The human’s free hand flies up to his necklace, glimmering proudly around his neck and dripping delicate trails of silver and jewels that gleam like shards of ice.

“Ohhhhh,” he breathes, eyes perfectly round, and Shen Yuan’s brain goes through a simultaneous cheer and irritated sigh of took you long enough, you complete and utter dumbass.

“Shang Qinghua,” Mobei-jun murmurs, bending down until his face is just above the human’s. “Do you understand?”

“I—I think, but I don’t want to be wrong?”

The ice demon runs his fingers over Shang Qinghua’s robes, over silk that must be expensive, in colors that even Shen Yuan knows are representative of Mobei-jun’s power. (To review: Shang Qinghua is an idiot.)

“Do you accept this Mobei-jun’s courtship?”

Shang Qinghua chokes audibly. “Wha—are you s-sure?”

Shen Yuan would guess that the face Mobei-jun makes is his exasperated one.

“This lord has always been sure. Do you accept?”

Airplane just stares at him for a second, then surges up to press his lips clumsily against the ice demon’s. Mobei-jun purrs, pulling Shang Qinghua against him, and the human whimpers softly into the ice demon's mouth.

Shen Yuan politely looks away.

“With all my heart, my king,” Shang Qinghua whispers when the couple break apart.

Blue light flares from Mobei-jun’s eyes. “Good,” he growls, tugging Shang Qinghua in again.

Fucking finally. Shen Yuan had been starting to think he’d have to watch his friend pine forever. Now he just has to watch the author and his newly confirmed boyfriend make out in his shop until they take a moment to breathe. Then he can kick them out so they can (presumably) go back to the ice palace and (presumably) sleep together properly and he can freak out over Airplane accidentally teaching Mobei-jun English.

Because he needed that stress in his life.

He takes the opportunity as soon as it presents itself—Shang Qinghua panting with his forehead resting on Mobei-jun’s chest, grinning from ear to ear.

“Finally.”

Shang Qinghua jumps around a foot in the air, almost hitting Mobei-jun in the chin. “Bro!!!”

Shen Yuan smirks. Yes, hi, I’m still here, thank you for noticing. “Congratulations on leveling up to overt expressions of affection.”

Mobei-jun growls softly, nuzzling Shang Qinghua’s hair, and Shen Yuan gives the author a what did I fucking tell you look as he stands, smoothing his robes.

“I would very much appreciate it if you would both get out now. And don’t even think about coming back here until you two have had an actual conversation about all that.” Shen Yuan waves a finger between the demon and the human.

Shang Qinghua breaks out of Mobei-jun’s embrace (resulting in a discontented growl) and lunges into Shen Yuan, wrapping his arms around the other transmigrator’s shoulders, practically vibrating with energy. “Thanks, bro.”

Shen Yuan hugs back, chuckling. “I barely did anything, dumbass. Although.” He disentangles himself from the other human to give him a purposeful look. “If he tries to maul you in anything other than a sexy way, I know how to get away with an assassination and dispose of a body. Just, y’know, an FYI.” Shen Yuan pats him on the back, not even bothering to switch to English because if anything goes bad he will throw hands with Mobei-jun for his bro’s sake with the fury of a thousand plot devices. Although with the way the the ice demon acts around Shang Qinghua, kicking his ass will probably be unnecessary. Unless, of course, Mobei-jun forgets that humans can be quite…fragile. Shen Yuan should probably preempt that.

He grits his teeth and lowers his voice. “Oh, and for fuck’s sake, take the time to prep yourself properly so he won’t break you in half or something.” Shen Yuan feels his own face go pink at giving his best friend sex advice. Sex reminder? Who knows. “If you come to me crying because he tore something other than just your clothes, I will toss you out the window in righteous anger.”

He pushes Shang Qinghua back, though not harshly. “Now shoo. You two are not fucking in the middle of my shop, so run off and make out with your future husband somewhere else.”

Shang Qinghua looks over his shoulder at a simultaneously pleased and irritated Mobei-jun. “Okay,” he says breathlessly.

Shen Yuan rolls his eyes and gives the other transmigrator a hard shove that knocks him into Mobei-jun’s arms again, and the pair disappear in a spiral of frost, leaving Shen Yuan shaking his head.

Idiot, he thinks fondly.

He should probably start narrowing down his ideas for wedding presents. He’d had a list for at least three years, but he has finite resources so he’ll have to pick thoughtfully.

A wedding.

Well, presumably a wedding. It’s more than apparent that Mobei-jun has a serious soft spot (and a hard one too but that’s not Shen Yuan’s problem) for Shang Qinghua, and Shang Qinghua has been in love with the ice demon since forever, so unless one of them really fucks up, they’ll probably end up married.

So basically just making their relationship official and adding bedroom activities into the mix.

Shen Yuan clears the emptied cups and teapot from his table, an odd, tingling feeling in his stomach.

A wedding.

‘You’re literally being courted!’

He puts the tea set down in his kitchen with more force than necessary. 

It’s not like he doesn’t know that, even though Luo Binghe had made sure to clarify that there were no figurative strings attached. Shen Yuan wasn’t bound to one decision. He could walk away from all this if he wanted to—walk away from Luo Binghe for good.

But he doesn’t want that. He never really has.

He could reject Binghe’s romantic overtures and stay…friends, because he can’t deny that he likes having the half-demon around—talking to him, wandering around the city with him, offering advice on the latest court issues to him, eating meals with him, laughing with him, feeling comfortably warm and safe around him, wanting to lean closer to him every time he visits, wishing he’d just—

…fuck.

Okay, so he might have the tiniest bit of a problem.

. . .

…fine, a big problem, both figuratively and literally.

Although it’s not much of a ‘problem,’ is it. More…coming to terms with things that have been going on in his life. Coming to terms with the fact that he can see past the innocent, pure white lotus Binghe used to be, and even past the charismatic, blackened Demon Lord Binghe is now, and that he quite likes the man underneath, who’s more a mixture of the two.

The man he…

“Ah fuck,” Shen Yuan whispers into the pleasant afternoon warmth.

Ever since that conversation with Shang Qinghua after he came back from the palace, he had suspected that he felt more than he’d admit for Luo Binghe, but like Shang Qinghua, he’s usually too nervous to actually dive into those feelings and map their true depth, because it’s a lot to untangle.

But since he’d accidentally fallen into the deep end anyway…

He should…wow, well, there are a lot of things he should do, and actually wants to, because he has things to say. Things that had been flickering in the back of his mind for quite some time now. And really, honestly, he just wants to see Binghe again. Because on top of everything else, Binghe had tried to make sure that Shen Yuan had someone to take his mind off his nightmare, because Binghe cares.

And Shen Yuan cares about Binghe.

…as more than just a friend.

He fumbles a little in his haste to pull the jade insignia out of his sleeve, feeling the smooth surface underneath his fingertips. He’s actually never used it before, though he has kept it on his person virtually at all times. He could use it to call Binghe to him, but it’s mid-afternoon, and afternoon court sessions won’t finish for at least another hour. Plus, he’s pretty sure there aren’t different settings for, say, “please drop by later” versus “a Black Moon Rhinoceros Python is trying to trample me, send help,” so it would probably be best if he doesn’t risk interrupting Binghe’s actually important duties by accident.

Binghe had told him it was fine if he wanted to come by, though Shen Yuan could tell the half-demon didn’t really expect it. Binghe was always the one who made the trip to visit Shen Yuan—never the other way around.

But they say there’s a first for everything, so Shen Yuan…just might.

And if he changes into nicer robes and puts extra effort into fixing his hair with one of the pieces Binghe had given him, or if he slips on the red-threaded bracelet that Binghe had bought for him on their fifth…date—well, Da Qing is the only one around to judge him for it, and based on the lazy sway of the kitten’s tails and the almost-human satisfaction on his face, he’s the exact opposite of disapproving.

So Shen Yuan gives Da Qing a light kiss on the head for luck and calm and heads off to the palace.

It’s as impressive from the outside as it had been from the inside: a towering, beautiful structure of dark stone and red banners. The guards stop him at the entrance, of course, but he simply presents the access pass and slips through layer after layer of security with no issue.

The throne room is familiar when he steps inside it, blending into a loose crowd of ministers and various other members of court, from diplomats to nobles to petitioners. He wouldn’t really call it a “casual” setting, because decorum must be maintained, but it feels much more relaxed than some palace dramas Shen Yuan had read (which was entirely Airplane’s fault, because Binghe had to 1: have a fair amount of free time despite his duties and 2: have a relatively open court, in order to be visible to every single possible new love interest, and apparently that had carried over into this version too. And no, it’s not hypocritical of Shen Yuan to criticize that fact while taking advantage of it. Stop giving him that look).

In any case, he’s to the side of the chamber, a little out of place even in his more formal robes, but it’s not like he’s here to impress anybody (well, Binghe, maybe, but that’s a different matter entirely).

Binghe, of course, is as impressive as always. He may be all the way across the room, but Shen Yuan can feel his power, a sort of presence that fills the chamber, a reminder of the Heavenly Demon’s sheer authority keeping demons and humans both in check.

Shen Yuan deliberately does not think about how attractive he finds that.

He can’t help that the sound of Luo Binghe’s voice gives him a weird shiver every time he hears it, as commanding as one would expect from a man whose political and physical power is second to none. Binghe is every bit the authoritive ruler, handling genuine petitions fairly while dismissively casting aside the ones meant to bait him. The process is a fairly tedious one, but the time goes by surprisingly quickly as Shen Yuan waits in the crowd. But when officials start to filter out as the court session draws to a close, Shen Yuan moves forward to the middle section of the throne room, feeling his pulse quicken.

Some of the courtiers give him judgmental looks, the up-and-down ones that scream condescension. Too bad for them, because Shen Yuan doesn’t care for the arrogance of court politics. He’d had enough of that as a Peak Lord. And he’s had a porn novel (several of them, actually: a whole series) written about him. He can take this.

It’s harder to take the way Binghe’s expression falters when the crowd finally thins enough for him to catch a glimpse of Shen Yuan, but that’s another matter.

Of course, Shen Yuan is the only one who’s looking for the Emperor’s reaction, so he really should have predicted one of the sneering courtiers would stop him with an arrogant hand on his shoulder.

“The session is over for today.” The demon’s three eyes sweep over him disdainfully, apparently missing the pale jade insignia hanging from Shen Yuan’s belt, its gold hidden against the fabric of the human’s robes.

“Whatever little petition you’d like to make, it’ll have to wait,” the three-eyed demon sniffs. “Personal, private audiences with commoners are beneath his majesty.”

It’s a lie, and Shen Yuan knows it. Private audiences may be rare, but they’ve been permitted ever since Binghe became Emperor years prior (also technically Airplane’s fault).

“I believe that decision isn’t up to you,” Shen Yuan says mildly, tapping into his Shen Qingqiu persona.

The demon scowls. “Someone has to keep the riff-raff out.”

Shen Yuan’s eyebrow lifts. This unlucky soul obviously suffers from Poorly Written Cannon Fodder Disease. He lights a candle for the courtier in his heart. “I don’t believe that it’s your duty to decide who requests an audience with the Emperor, nor do I think he would be pleased with that idea.”

The demon doesn’t take that too well, puffing up their chest and taking a tight hold of Shen Yuan’s arm, shaking him. “Why, you insolent—”

“Hands. Off. Now.”

The Heavenly Demon hasn’t even moved from his throne, but his voice carries like he’s standing right next to them, his power sharpening with anger. 

The unfortunate three-eyed demon jolts badly at the order. They wilt at the Emperor’s glower, hands darting into the air. “Y-yes, your majesty! Pardon this one—”

“You are dismissed.”

Shen Yuan barely has time to blink before the demon is skittering out the door, quaking.

Huh. Effective.

He directs a small smile toward the throne, and the nearly crushing presence ebbs as the burning mark on Binghe’s forehead softens to a light glow.

Now that the last courtiers have fled following Binghe’s order, the room is mostly empty, save for the guards and the Emperor himself. It’s quiet for a long moment, until the Heavenly Demon speaks again, the same authority in his tone.

“Come here.”

Shen Yuan does as he’s told, stepping up onto the dais a mere six feet away from the throne. He bows deeply, a nervous thrill playing across his skin. Even if most of his audience is gone, coming to see Luo Binghe so publicly feels…odd—a little terrifying in a way, though not because of the Heavenly Demon himself.

“This subordinate pays his respects to Heavenly Emperor Luo.”

The demon inclines his head in acknowledgement, not taking his eyes off Shen Yuan.

“The rest of you are dismissed.” Luo Binghe leans forward, expression relaxing once the guards have filed out.

“Is Shen Yuan doing alright?”

“Much better, actually.” The transmigrator hopes his smile doesn’t seem too nervous. “I hope you don’t mind me coming here, but I…” why is this hard? Fuck!

Shen Yuan forces himself to look Luo Binghe in the eye. “I wanted to see you again.”

Warmth immediately floods his cheeks and he gets the strong urge to cover his face. Stay calm, he tells himself. Emotional intimacy is good! A little stressful! But good!

From the curl of Luo Binghe’s smile, it seems like they’re thinking the same thing there.

“A-Yuan wanted to see me?”

Yes, he just said that, no need to repeat it!

He nods wordlessly. That was half the reason.

…okay, the entire reason.

“Although I should also notify you that Mobei-jun and Shang Qinghua will probably be…indisposed for the next day or three.”

The Emperor arches one eyebrow. “So they’re…”

“Talking about their new relationship, hopefully. Having…uh, dual cultivating, more likely.”

Luo Binghe muffles a surprised laugh. “Took them long enough.”

“Right?” Shen Yuan shakes his head. “Over two decades, and it had to happen by accident. Seriously.”

The other man chuckles again, quiet and just for him, and suddenly the massive throne room feels much smaller and more intimate. Just the two of them, no longer separated by the haze of fear Shen Yuan had felt when they first reunited.

Just Luo Binghe, smiling.

Shen Yuan’s breath catches abruptly in his throat, and it takes a long moment for him to refocus, and an even longer one to take another step forward and reach for the Heavenly Demon’s hand.

…when did it start feeling so familiar to touch Binghe like this?

“But…I mostly came to say thank you.”

He can swear the half-demon swallow. “A-Yuan never needs to thank me.”

The transmigrator hums. “I should. It’s the right thing to do.” He edges forward again, watching the almost shy curve of the other man’s smile as Binghe’s head tilts to look up at Shen Yuan.

“I know you were supposed to visit me tomorrow, not today, but I wanted to see you—not that I don’t appreciate Shang Qinghua’s company, of course! That’s why I’m saying thank you, after all.”

Binghe’s brow furrows slightly. “He told you?”

Shen Yuan shrugs, absentmindedly lacing his fingers through Binghe’s. “He confirmed a guess. Something about a ‘strong suggestion’?”

“I recommended it, yes.” Luo Binghe traces his thumb over Shen Yuan’s knuckles, slow and careful. “I was…concerned that if I came to Shizun in the real world without invitation, Shizun would be displeased with me. Especially after I failed him last night.” He brings Shen Yuan’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “A-Yuan set the limits; I will not cross them. So I encouraged Shang Qinghua to go instead, to cheer A-Yuan up.”

Shen Yuan’s heart flutters. “That was very considerate of you, Binghe.”

The half-demon’s lips curve down. “Shizun doesn’t need to praise me. It was only this Luo Binghe’s selfish desire to see A-Yuan happy.”

“Hm.” Shen Yuan is pretty sure that’s not how being selfish works, but he’ll let it go for now, leaning down a little instead and placing his free hand on one arm of the throne.

“Well. Do you know something else that makes me happy, Luo Binghe?”

Blood-red eyes turn up towards him, suddenly earnest. “Tell me, and I will procure it for you, whatever it is.”

“That should be easy to do,” Shen Yuan replies softly.

The Heavenly Demon squeezes his hand. “Then tell me, A-Yuan. Whatever it is that makes you happy, just tell me.”

The transmigrator gently pulls his hand out of Luo Binghe’s grip and places it along the half-demon’s jaw, eyes stinging when Binghe rubs his cheek into the human’s palm, blatantly, agonizingly desperate for his slightest touch. 

Binghe.

Gods, Binghe.

The ache is back full force, settling heavily in the gaps between his ribs, and suddenly Shen Yuan feels like someone slipped their hand inside his chest, wrapped their fingers around his heart, and started to crush it.

“You,” Shen Yuan murmurs finally. “You make me happy.”

The world narrows around him as he bends down, hair slipping over his shoulders. He breathes the Emperor’s name as he leans in, pressing his lips onto Binghe’s.

A pardon, an apology, a declaration…he doesn’t even know, really. He only knows that it feels good. It feels right.

He gives Binghe plenty of room when he pulls away, a ripple of nerves in his stomach.

“Was…was that alright?”

Binghe tilts his head at the question, licking his lips slowly as a thoughtful expression crosses his face.

“I’m not sure. Maybe Shizun should do it again, so I can give him a more accurate answer.”

A light, relieved laugh spills from Shen Yuan’s lips as his tension evaporates like snow in the sunshine of Binghe’s smile.

“Binghe could just have asked for another kiss,” he chuckles as he leans back down. “I would have obliged him—mm.”

The half-demon responds much more hungrily this time, and Shen Yuan easily lets him take over the kiss. His hand slips off the half-demon’s cheek to wrap his arms around the other man’s neck when Binghe stands from his throne, running his fingertips up Shen Yuan’s sides almost wonderingly as he does so.

When they break apart again, he feels Binghe’s lips by his ear, panting even as he whispers, “To answer A-Yuan’s question, it was much, much better than just alright.”

The half-demon nips gently at Shen Yuan’s lip and the transmigrator almost moans, rising on his toes to deepen the kiss and parting his lips in invitation. Binghe’s tongue dips obligingly into his mouth, and for a first kiss, it feels really fucking good.

Shen Yuan doesn’t whine when Binghe pulls away to look the transmigrator in the eye, but it’s a close thing.

“A-Yuan is sure he wants this? If you still need time, or space, or—or anything else at all, this Luo Binghe will give you whatever you want.”

“I mean, it kind of feels—unbelievable that this could happen,” Shen Yuan says breathlessly, leaning his forehead against Binghe’s front and splaying his hand over the half-demon’s heart to ground himself. “But I want this. I want you. I’m ready to have something more.”

Arms loop around him, keeping him close against Binghe’s chest with a murmured, shaky “A-Yuan…”

Shen Yuan swallows, taking the leap. “You want me in your life, and I want you in mine.” His voice slips down to a whisper. “You also told me that you want me in—in your bed, and I…I would like that too.”

He buries himself against Binghe’s robes to hide the subsequent incineration of his face.

Shen Yuan can feel the half-demon’s sharp intake of breath, followed by a kiss to the top of his head.

“This Luo Binghe cannot describe how much he has wanted to hear that from you.” The half-demon’s voice is low, what sounds like relief and happiness and longing and the slightest edge of hunger mixed into one. “All of that. Shen Yuan—Shen Yuan honors this one, truly.”

The transmigrator runs his fingertips along the back of Luo Binghe’s neck, braving eye contact to press a gentle kiss to the corner of the half-demon’s mouth. “I simply told Binghe the truth.”

A hand eases his head back, and Binghe’s teeth graze his neck. “A-Yuan.”

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to say it again,” Binghe says, half-muffled against Shen Yuan’s throat. “Since Shizun has honored me with the knowledge of his true name, how could I resist speaking it?”

The hand on his waist tightens slightly. “A-Yuan is so perfect,” the Heavenly Demon continues. “Always so good to this lowly disciple. Explaining everything even when he is afraid. Allowing me to stay by his side even when I flirt. Honoring me with all this, Shizun is so kind—and always patient. Perfect.” Another, harder bite to Shen Yuan’s shoulder, followed by a soothing swipe of tongue. “He even tastes perfect.”

Shen Yuan frees one hand to cover his face. “Binghe. You can’t just say things like that!”

“But it’s true, A-Yuan. You have this Luo Binghe addicted already.”

Those earnest puppy dog eyes have no right to accompany a sentence like that, for heaven’s sake. And the combination definitely should not work on Shen Yuan!

Because it does. It works way too well. Damn protagonist halo.

…okay, fine, damn his weakness to Binghe’s…everything.

“You know you don’t have to seduce me, Binghe,” Shen Yuan manages. They have long since passed that stage.

The half-demon hums, the hint of a knowing smirk on his lips. “Perhaps not. But would A-Yuan like me to?”

“I…”

It’s a trap—a blatant, open trap not even trying to pretend to be something else, but Shen Yuan walks into it anyway, heat rising in his cheeks again.

“…yes.”

A brief flash of surprise crosses the half-demon’s face, but he recovers with an even broader smirk. “Good,” Binghe purrs, “because you have no idea how long I have wanted to do just that. Seduce you, take you to bed…have my way with you.” Shen Yuan is tugged flush to the half-demon’s body, making the transmigrator hyper-aware of the muscles that could definitely snap him in half.

…or bend him in half, or into other…interesting positions, and then hold him there, but that thought makes him flush even harder.

“You have no idea how badly I have wanted to taste you, fit myself inside you—”

Shen Yuan’s remaining hand joins the other’s attempts to cover his face but he still hears Binghe’s voice by his ear, whispering, “—make you mine. Shen Yuan,” he croons, “if you let me, I can make you feel so good, I promise.”

Binghe places a lingering kiss on Shen Yuan’s temple. “Would A-Yuan like that?” He smooths the transmigrator’s hair, a hint of disappointment in his voice when he continues, “But A-Yuan gets embarrassed so easily...perhaps it is too much.”

He sounds quite crestfallen, and Shen Yuan may have face as thin as the last thread futilely trying to hold up Airplane’s integrity as a writer while the man cheerfully saws away at it, but that doesn’t mean he’ll just let Binghe assume he doesn’t want all that.

(Because honestly, he does. He just wouldn’t be able to say it in as much detail as the half-demon can.)

“N-no, no!” Shen Yuan chokes out hurriedly, “I want—it’s just that we’re not even married yet and you still have the shamelessness to say things like that—”

The half-demon freezes and Shen Yuan takes the opportunity to draw in a quick, fortifying breath before large, warm hands take his and pull them away from his face. 

“‘Yet,’ Shizun said.” The tone is strained, forced into a monotone. “‘We’re not even married yet.’”

Those terrifying, beautiful red eyes shine brilliantly when Shen Yuan meets Luo Binghe’s gaze. “Why Shizun, was that an offer?”

Shen Yuan swallows, heart thudding almost painfully fast.

He courted you, he’s not going to turn you down.

“Yes, Binghe, I—I guess it was. Although—I mean, I know it’s underwhelming, like seriously anticlimat—”

He’s cut off by Binghe’s lips sealing his, all excitement and heat and happiness against him. Arms wrap around his waist, pulling him in again, stealing the air from his lungs in Binghe’s apparent quest to kiss him senseless.

It’s working, too. Fuck, Binghe’s powers are too strong, dammit. Unfair!

“Then this Luo Binghe accepts the honor he has been offered.”

Shen Yuan’s face heats. “Binghe is the one who did all the courting. All I did was…ask. And poorly, at that.”

The Heavenly Demon laughs. “A-Yuan.” He brings the human’s hands to his lips again. “A-Yuan. If you are willing to marry this Luo Binghe, he couldn’t care less how he is asked.”

The transmigrator lowers his eyes. “Still. Binghe deserves a better proposal.”

Another chuckle. “If A-Yuan would like to propose again, this Luo Binghe would not be opposed.” He kisses gently along Shen Yuan’s hairline. “Although one is enough, if it is sincere.”

Shen Yuan looks back up, setting his hands on Binghe’s chest as he’s pulled in again. “It was sincere.” He runs his fingers along the crimson fabric of one of the Emperor’s inner layers, skimming briefly over bare skin.

“Do you know why, Binghe?” He whispers, and watches the half-demon’s pupils dilate even more.

Shen Yuan’s heartbeat picks up.

“It was sincere because I love you.”

Binghe makes a choking noise, and that’s all the warning Shen Yuan gets before he’s swept into the half-demon’s arms like he weighs nothing. A second later he’s tucked into Luo Binghe’s lap on the Heavenly Demon’s throne, pulled close to that muscular chest.

“Binghe!” He yelps, not caring how it echoes in the large chamber. “You’ll wrinkle your robes.”

“Unimportant,” Binghe growls, burying his face in Shen Yuan’s neck. “Replaceable, unlike A-Yuan. I just want you.”

Shen Yuan threads his fingers through the half-demon’s hair. “Well, I guess it’s good that you do have me then.”

Binghe stifles a groan in the transmigrator’s shoulder. “You mean it?”

“I do.” His voice is firm because he does.

He’s hopelessly in love—it just took him a little while to acknowledge that fact.

Shen Yuan pulls gently on Binghe’s hair until the Heavenly Demon looks back up at him.

“Binghe,” he says quietly, just for the one holding him close to hear. “I promise that I won’t leave you behind. Never again.”

Tears glimmer in crimson eyes for a moment before Shen Yuan kisses Binghe again, relaxing into him, luxuriating in their closeness and in the other’s warmth against him.

And if he pulls away blinking back tears of his own, well, there’s no smug cat here now to see it.

Just Binghe, leaning close to his ear and whispering “I love you too, A-Yuan.”

He can’t help it, tilting his head back and offering Binghe his neck in all its vulnerability, wrapping his arms around the Heavenly Demon’s shoulders and shivering at the touch of lips and teeth against his exposed skin. He gasps softly when Binghe’s hands slide from his waist to his hips and then pause in their descent.

“Shizun, may I—?”

The human lets out a quiet chuckle. “If you’re going to ask for what I think you are, you’ll have to stop calling me ‘Shizun.’ It’s not…it’s weird.”

Binghe pouts. “A-Yuan really wants me to stop calling him ‘Shizun’?”

“If you feeling me up like this is going to become a regular occurrence for us, then yes.” Shen Yuan cups his boyfriend’s cheek (his! boyfriend!!), refusing to be swayed by any amount of puppy eyes. “No ‘Shizun’ from you when your hands are where they are.”

The other man sighs in faint disappointment. “Then this one will obey.” (This statement is only partially true—he only stops when they have their first child and Shen Yuan threatens to sleep in a different room for a whole month if the Heavenly Demon gives their baby the wrong idea of what a “Shizun” is—but that’s still some time in the future.)

“Good.” Shen Yuan strokes Binghe’s cheek. “Then you have my express permission to feel me up as much as you want.” He raises a qualifying finger. “Though if that’s your plan, we probably shouldn’t stay in your throne room, as that would be both improper and freezing. Seriously, is your throne always this cold?”

The half-demon steals another kiss, standing up with Shen Yuan still in his arms. “It feels much warmer now that A-Yuan is here with me, I assure you.”

“I think that’s more the fancy, excessively layered robes you’re currently rumpling beyond repair,” Shen Yuan points out, and Binghe laughs.

“A-Yuan wants to get me out of my clothes that badly?”

“That’s not what I sa—maybe, but there are much better places to do that!!”

Crimson eyes darken with promise. “As my love wishes.”

And that, long story short, is how Shen Yuan finds himself on Binghe’s lap in the Emperor’s chambers a half hour later, robes tugged just loose enough to bare bitten skin, with one of the half-demon’s hands in his hair and the other on his waist, breathless with his own desire and being kissed like he’s everything Luo Binghe has ever wanted.

Not that Shen Yuan minds. He loves Binghe, and Binghe loves him, and that is all Shen Yuan could ever really want.