Archive of Our Own

The water was shaking around him. He could feel it vibrating, shimmering in the edges of his vision. The water was dark, deep enough that the light of the moon did not penetrate. It had been cold, before, but everything began to feel warm, humming from the rapid currents that were trying to wrap around his limbs.

There was shouting, muffled through the pounding in his ears. The water distorted it with how quickly everything was moving, and how loud the water was itself, rushing through and around the rock pressed against Mobei Jun’s back.

It didn’t take long for him to realize what was happening. He’d ascended not long before, reaching the climax of his power. According to the elders, he’d been meant to still be cultivating something. It was control, the honing of his power, despite reaching godhood. He’d wondered about it, and wondered what it was they meant, for he’d felt the power surging the moment he’d ascended.

It had hummed beneath his skin, through his limbs, his mind, and out with the water he breathed. He had hidden it, for he did not think anyone would know what to say. They all seemed to think that the power he had as a recently ascended god would be akin to a child learning to swim. It was natural, the ability existed, but it was clumsy. Mobei Jun had never felt clumsy.

He had been at the cavern, a small structure in the open sea, where he’d hunted a large squid when it was like the power he’d been tempering decided to show itself. It rushed out of him, annihilating the squid, and creating a small tear into the seafloor. It was a gash, disrupting the sand and floating up near to the surface from the blow. It’d been felt for miles, the vibration beneath the water going straight to those who would know it had been him.

Mobei Jun had felt it bubbling, pouring out of him, making his fingers ache with the need to release it. It had indeed been released, unbidden, until the elders had come. 

He knew what they were doing. They were sealing him. The power coming from him he knew would eventually lead to the decimation of their area of the ocean. Still, anger surged through him at the thought of them attempting to seal him, a god. He was their god, and they were disallowing him from his right.

The feeling of the seal was uniquely horrible. Everything was pouring out him, and despite this, it was being shoved back into a small space. It was like the water itself was binding around him like seaweed. His arms felt trapped, his fins ached, his head felt as though pressured, like his skull would burst. 

Eventually, it was done. Mobei Jun could feel it when they succeeded. The pain, the aching, the pressure, all of it faded into nothing. It stopped so abruptly that it almost felt like a phantom pain, as though imagined. For a moment, Mobei Jun could think of nothing. Everything was silent. The elders did not speak, waiting with a desperate quiet, and while they waited, Mobei Jun himself felt desperate. Everything was too still. He could not move.

He felt himself being moved. He wished to speak. The anger he felt was consuming, large, and righteous. It was unfathomable, he thought, how their audacity had led them to doing such a thing to him. He could tell, as they lifted his newly stupefied body to the top of the cavern, that they believed they had done the right thing. 

The cavern had an opening, and it was a small cove that looked completely untouched. One of the elders swam into it, searched through it and came back up with an affirmative. Mobei Jun knew they would put him there. A resignation settled into Mobei Jun’s mind, large and promising.

They let the water carry him gently into the cove after pushing his stone-body into the opening. The little light that reached the bottom of the cove disappeared as they covered and hid it away from sight.

Mobei Jun settled at the bottom, nestling into the soft sand next to the corals and fish. The fish scurried into invisible crevices. They had given him a false throne, and he’d felt as though it was almost a mockery. Mobei Jun stared at the dark, black wall of his prison and did not move. He would not move. He could not move. Mobei Jun stared as the light disappeared completely. He was in blackness.

__________

Time passed the way water moved. It ebbed and flowed, sometimes in bursts, and sometimes so slowly that Mobei Jun sometimes thought he hadn’t been sealed, but killed and sent to a sort of purgatory hell. When time passed quickly, he felt irritated, too, though it was a different kind.

After Mobei Jun had settled with the idea of what had happened, why, and as he’d had time to examine what had been done, he could assume when he would be released. When he’d first been told what time he would be fully powerful and in control as a god was likely the same time they’d put on his seal. Mobei Jun, despite the stillness, could tell that his power had been growing, moving and festering inside of him the way a meal would be digested. One thousand years was nothing to a god. But it had felt egregiously long as he remained in his prison.

Several years after he’d been sealed, or what he had assumed had been years, he had realized that the small cavern he’d been in had another opening. It was low to the ground, nearly covered by piles of sand that the currents had pushed up into it. As crabs and fish meddled through every inch of the cavern, other larger fish began to enter. They swam around him, curiously mouthing at the algae growing along the bottom of his stone body.

The fish had begun to look different after a while of feeding from the algae on Mobei Jun’s stone, and after filtering through the water surrounding him. The more they returned, the more they had grown. The more they ate, the more they began to glow between their scales.

Not only did the fish begin to look different, but the algae, coral, and other plants and crabs began to glow. The inside of Mobei Jun’s cavern glowed with the weight of his power. He was sealed, but he was still a god. That fact alone assured Mobei Jun that he would eventually be released. He would dole out the consequence of sealing him. 

Even though this fact assured him of his status, he could also feel that the more power that leaked out of him, the less aware of his surroundings he became. It was as though those bursts leftover of himself were what gave him his remaining consciousness. In the dark, with nothing to take in, he was left only to give and lose.

Mobei Jun had many long years to consider the events of what had happened, and he knew that they had felt cornered, as though they had no choice. This did not change Mobei Jun’s nature, which demanded punishment. It sung within him, and it was almost as though that was what had kept him alive, not his godhood. The anger, the despair, was what made his power grow and settle into him.

The despair was a feeling that was more difficult to parse out. Anger was natural, was right, but despair felt beneath him. What was there to despair?

There was the sky, the open water, the worship, the currents, the light from the moon and sun breaking through the water into rays of light. There was food, there was hunting, there was his home and his comforts. There had been plenty to despair having lost, but even despite this, it only fed his anger. To Mobei Jun, anger felt familiar, and when the objects of his despair fed that rage, it made sense. The despair that lingered on its own was less familiar.

Mobei Jun had faced those two emotions, felt the weight of them, the burning of them, and no matter how frequently they appeared, they remained unpleasant.

In some ways, it was as though those two emotions were the company Mobei Jun had. He had the fish and the crabs, and the plants that grew with him, as though in camaraderie. Anger and despair—they felt more tangible somehow.

But then, absolution.

___________

A hand entered Mobei Jun’s limited vision and awareness first. Vision was an interesting thing, as a sealed god. He sensed and felt more than he saw, but even still, it was clear enough, detailed enough, that Mobei Jun knew that it was a hand.

It crept into the crevice the fish had found hundred of years prior. It dug fistfuls of sand, pulling and tugging it away, as though digging into the cove. Mobei Jun watched on, both curious and interested. If anything, he felt bemused that it had taken so long for someone to find him.

He heard grunting and muttering next. The closer it got, the more distinguishable the words were.

“—on, almost there…Ugh, it’s small. Wha—is that light? What’s on my hand? Eugh!” 

The hand was jerked from the entrance, as though in disgust. 

“Oh,” the voice said. “Huh…”

The voice trailed away. It was almost as though it was in a semblance of wonder. Despite the fact that it was not at Mobei Jun, he still felt a twinge of satisfaction. It had been very long since he’d heard someone acknowledge his godhood.

The hand reappeared, continuing to dig at the sand. Then, another hand entered, and then a head of dark hair pushed through. The body of a merman shimmied its way through until he was inside, hand nursing a scrape on his tail.

Mobei Jun watched on, completely riveted. Even the mere entertainment of laying eyes on another sentient creature had felt like a feast for a ravenous beast. It gave that slipping of his mind something to latch onto, and he felt more awake, more alive, than he had in hundreds of years.

“Oh,” breathed the merman.

Mobei Jun studied him. He was somewhat small, for a merman. He seemed to be a different species than the mermen of where he’d come from. His tail was shorter, too. His hair flowed in the water, messy and falling from the ties that were in it, presumably before he’d shoved himself through the small entrance.

“Wow,” he said, continuing to stare at the glowing algae along the cavern. Then, his eyes scanned toward Mobei Jun. A strangled gasp sounded, loud in the typical quiet of Mobei Jun’s prison.

“Oh,” the merman said again. “Oh, wow.”

Mobei Jun wondered if this merman had held any power or influence himself, that he might be able to free Mobei Jun early.

The merman swam up to Mobei Jun, hesitant and reverent. His curiosity was both full of awe, but was also cautious. Good, Mobei Jun thought. It was as it should have been.

Small, gentle hands pulled debris from Mobei Jun’s body, where they’d tangled on the curved shape of unnatural limbs. Mobei Jun had been sealed, but he had been sealed the way a false god might have been stored. It was unnatural, both for Mobei Jun, and for the situation they’d been in during the seal.

The feeling of fingertips brushing against the stone was unique. He only had been touched by hands once, and it had been from the elders, lifting him and pushing him down into the cavern. This felt very different. If Mobei Jun had been able to shiver, he might have. It felt more like worship.

“What are you?” He asked, voice as gentle as the current itself. “Who are you?”

Your god, Mobei Jun wanted to say.

The merman swam forward slowly, face leveling with Mobei Jun’s. His hands rested on Mobei Jun’s shoulders, keeping him from sinking further down. His tail swished gently in the water, and even that small movement disrupted the stale water that had been sitting in the cove for so long. Though Mobei Jun did not breathe, and he could not feel things the way he used to, felt that at least. The water felt more alive, more like there was something breathing into it.

The merman’s hand traced up Mobei Jun’s shoulder, up the side of his neck, and then over his jaw. His eyes peered closely, studying. A single finger touched over his cheek, eyes, and the slope of his nose.

“Were you a god?” 

I am a god.

“Are you a god?”

I am a god.

“I know of so many gods,” the merman said, hands settling on his shoulders again. “I don’t know what any of them look like.”

His tone was almost dejected. 

“I doubt anyone will know,” he mused in a mutter. His head turned down, eyeing the rest of Mobei Jun’s body. “I can’t exactly tell them either.”

Why?

A sigh left him, and bubbles appeared between them. A pout formed on his lips, as though the answer to Mobei Jun’s silent question was indeed rolling through his mind. Mobei Jun felt desperate to make him speak it aloud.

“I should make sure no one finds this place,” the merman said suddenly, turning his head, body twisted, as he looked toward the entrance. “Ah!” 

Mobei Jun felt startled, though he didn’t move. He watched the merman dart toward the entrance and shimmy out of the cavern without another word.

No, Mobei Jun found himself thinking. Come back, come back.

A moment later, he did. Mobei Jun did feel like a god in that moment, as though his desire had been the thing to entice the mermaid back. Even he knew that this thought was ungodly and lacking complete decorum. He must have been truly bored.

The merman returned with a small purse, made from twined plants, seaweed, and other objects Mobei Jun couldn’t identify. It looked as though it was debris from the surface. 

“If anyone saw that, I’d have been completely caught,” the merman muttered, almost too quiet to hear.

By who?

The merman began to hum as he set the purse aside. He pushed some sand up to the entrance, as though covering it. It was dark in the cavern, only lit by the glowing plants and crabs at the bottom near Mobei Jun’s legs. The merman looked back over at Mobei Jun and studied him from afar for a moment.

“I wish I could ask about you,” he sighed. He swam back over. He settled onto the sand by Mobei Jun’s feet, as though kneeling beside him. He settled against Mobei Jun’s leg, leaning against him. “Qinghua,” he began, in a mockingly condescending tone. “You aren’t supposed to be wandering out that far. I don’t care what you found.”

Is that your name?

“Ugh,” Qinghua muttered. His face turned up, to look at Mobei Jun’s. His cheek pressed soft against the hard rock of Mobei Jun’s knee. “You aren’t one of our gods, I don’t think… I’d know. You should feel lucky. Being a god of one of us Shangs, or the Shens, or the…ugh. Any of them. You’d hate us.”

Would I? Mobei Jun wondered. Shang Qinghua. He didn’t seem deplorable. He seemed to worship just fine.

Shang Qinghua turned his head down again. His voice lowered to a near-inaudible murmur. “Well, maybe you’d like them all. They’re very proper. They have a lot of rules and are very traditional.”

Mobei Jun was unsure what to think about a comment like that.

Shang Qinghua’s hand came up to touch tentatively at the algae along the bottom of Mobei Jun, where he met the sand. It glowed a bluish-white. “Pretty,” he murmured. “Doesn’t matter if you’d like them, I suppose. You’re going to be my little secret.”

__________

Shang Qinghua had left eventually. Mobei Jun had felt a jarring desperation for him to stay, but nothing stopped him from swimming out of the cavern, taking his bag, and covering the entrance with a mound of sand. From what he’d spoken about, he didn’t live too great a distance away, but it was enough that he did not think Shang Qinghua would come by very often.

It was difficult to determine how long it had been between the first time Shang Qinghua had come and the second. It could have been days, weeks, months, or years. It felt like an incredible amount of time regardless. When he reappeared and joyfully greeted Mobei Jun as though he was alive, Mobei Jun felt a pulse. It was like the power in him was responding. Though, if Mobei Jun thought of it, he supposed that his power was the only thing alive in him. It was natural that it would be the thing to react.

That time, Shang Qinghua had settled in the cradle of Mobei Jun’s lap. He leaned into the crook of Mobei Jun’s arm, leaning against him while he wove together what looked to be a necklace of some sort. He muttered to himself, to Mobei Jun, the entire time. Sometimes it was so rapid and low that Mobei Jun struggled to keep up. Without context, sometimes it was nearly impossible. 

Shang Qinghua inevitably left again. Then he returned. He left, and returned, like waves on a shore. Mobei Jun could hardly stand the departure, but Shang Qinghua’s returns were like seeing the light again. It might as well have been like his sealed self being moved to the open water.

Mobei Jun, throughout the visits, learned very much about him. He learned that Shang Qinghua had responsibilities to tend to. His group of mermen were a small family faction, and they were a small pod amongst other small pods. They lived in a colony together, led by their saints.

The more Mobei Jun listened, the more it became clear that the saints were descendants of mermen that Mobei Jun himself had known. The way Shang Qinghua spoke of them, their power and influence, was much too familiar for Mobei Jun to look past. If anything, they made more sense than anything else Shang Qinghua spoke of. The things he spoke of seemed new and novel, and were difficult to keep up with.

Shang Qinghua, he had learned, was special in his pod. He was meant for something, though Mobei Jun did not know what. Shang Qinghua often trailed off when that topic came up in his ramblings. He did know, however, that when Shang Qinghua disappeared the way he did, people were not happy with him.

“They were so mad last time.” A giggle. “I thought they’d lock me in my room.”

Mobei Jun raged at the thought.

Completely unbeknownst to Mobei Jun’s turmoil at the idea, Shang Qinghua continued casually. “Like they could, even if they tried. Well, I guess they probably could if they tried really, really hard. And they’d have to let me not do anything, which is what they get mad about in the first place.”

What is it that they want you to do? What duties do you have?

Shang Qinghua did not respond, as expected. His head leaned against Mobei Jun’s shoulder. His eyes began to drift shut. “You’re stone, but cozy.”

Mobei Jun felt a burst of fondness.

Shang Qinghua’s breaths, though he wasn’t sleeping yet, seemed to even out. “I’m tired today,” he murmured. “The swim here felt so long.”

Stay.

“If they find me here, I’ll never be allowed to come back.”

Then stay. 

“I like it here,” Shang Qinghua murmured. “I hope you like it here, too. It’s probably lonely, isn’t it?”

Not anymore. 

“I’ll keep you company.”

Yes.

Shang Qinghua fell asleep, and Mobei Jun had the sudden thought of what it’d be like to hold onto him.

___________

Eventually, after Shang Qinghua had been coming to him for months, Mobei Jun discovered what it was that Shang Qinghua had been hiding from. It wasn’t very difficult to drag it out of him when he did nothing but be a silent audience, and Shang Qinghua happened to be raging mad the next time he'd come by.

His bag had been launched to the other end of the cavern in anger when Shang Qinghua arrived. He let out huffs and puffs of irritation as he hovered listlessly near the wall. It was silent, save for the small whooshing of the water that moved when he entered and threw the bag.

“I’m so sick of it,” Shang Qinghua hissed. “I don’t want to do this. I don’t need to. It’s stupid.”

What? Mobei Jun wanted to ask. What don’t you want to do?

Shang Qinghua scrubbed at his eyes, as though his frustration made tears appear. He swam over to Mobei Jun and settled into the sand at the bottom. He rested his arms onto Mobei Jun’s lap and then buried his face into his arms. He rubbed his face into the crook of his elbow. “It doesn’t make sense,” he said. “The god isn’t even around. No one knows where he is.”

Mobei Jun felt as though he stilled, even though he’d been still for hundreds of years.

“I don’t get why I have to do all of this work for something that no one can find, or even wants to find. And then what? When they do, I just have to marry a creature?”

Mobei Jun’s mind was blaring. Who? His brain, his godhood, demanded. Who would take you from me?

“I don’t want to do it,” Shang Qinghua said tearfully. 

You don’t have to. Stay with me.

“I don’t even know anything about him. He seems scary.”

Scary? I will deal with it. Unseal me, Qinghua, unseal me. He knew that Shang Qinghua couldn’t, even if he wanted to.

“He’s supposed to be unsealed soon, wherever he is. They say I have to be ready for him. That he’ll be so powerful and angry that me and the others will have to try and be enough for him, as a gift.”

Unsealed, Mobei Jun pondered. He is sealed?

“How am I supposed to temper the wrath of a god who’s been sealed for eight hundred years?”

Ah, Mobei Jun thought. The blaring rage that had been pounding in his head settled. Then a new feeling bloomed, spreading through him soft and warm. Wait, Qinghua. Wait for me. I will accept your gift.

“What if he doesn’t like me?” Shang Qinghua asked, voice wet. “What if I don’t like him?”

I like you, Mobei Jun thought, wishing to reassure him. In fact, he was beginning to think he loved him.

__________

Shang Qinghua still returned, and the feeling in Mobei Jun grew. Perhaps it was love. He had felt so little for so long, everything felt foreign and indiscernible. He knew that the feeling inside of him was pleasant, even though it was restless. Mobei Jun had been restless for hundreds of years, but it had never felt so desperate. There had been a powerlessness in restlessness before, but this time, it was not directionless. This was drive, this was purpose. 

Mobei Jun watched him when he came, listened to his woes, his ramblings, the periodic worship that spilled from his pretty mouth whenever the sight of the glowing plants reminded Shang Qinghua that he’d stumbled upon something special.

He learned that Shang Qinghua was preparing to be offered soon. He’d been meant to be ready, capable of being a gift to a powerful god. Supposedly, they were planning on attempting to unseal Mobei Jun sooner than he’d been meant to be sealed. It was unclear why. But the more Shang Qinghua spoke of it, the more he knew that he was the god that Shang Qinghua had been promised to.

Shang Qinghua was full of despair at the thought of it. Though, there were occasions he spoke of things that assured Mobei Jun that he would not be too horrified to learn who it was he was promised to.

“You’re some sort of god,” Shang Qinghua had said one day, cuddled up to Mobei Jun’s chest as he rested in his lap. “I know you are. There is no way that this cove would look the way that it does without some sort of power.”

Good, Mobei Jun thought. Good, and smart.

“I knew you must have been the moment I stumbled across this place.” Shang Qinghua’s eyes were closed with a pleasant, restful expression on his face. He seemed to be calm, despite the fact that he’d spent the last hour raging to himself about how unfair everything was.

I am a god. I am your god.

“It’d be nice if you could talk.”

I can.

“Are you sealed?” Shang Qinghua asked, so rhetorically that Mobei Jun was unsure that Shang Qinghua knew how on the money he was. “If you were, maybe you could unseal and save me.”

Mobei Jun wished that he could laugh. It was an interesting impulse. He hadn’t laughed in a very long time, and even then, he had not laughed very frequently. The urge to laugh when sealed was almost like wishing he could overflow, despite the fact that he had been capped shut. He supposed, in a way, he had been.

There was silence for several moments. And then, quietly, in reverence. “Maybe you can understand me.”

I can, Mobei Jun thought eagerly. I can, I can. Talk to me.

“Sometimes, when I say certain things, it’s like the glowing in this cavern glows even more.” Shang Qinghua’s eyes were cracked open, and staring along the algae adorning Mobei Jun’s neck like jewelry. He reached out with a finger and touched it gently. “See? There.”

Mobei Jun knew what he spoke of. Throughout his stay in the cavern, he’d noticed that in moments of particularly strong turmoil, it was as though there was something pouring out of him, because the crabs and the fish would scurry away, and the blues, purples, and whites would grow brighter, for just a few moments, before fading back to nothing.

Back then, it had typically been some sort of negative emotion. It had been when he’d felt as though he had the power to unseal himself before he was ready, solely due to the weight of his own rage. But lately, it had been for other things—for pleasant things. It happened when Shang Qinghua appeared for the first time in days. It happened when Shang Qinghua said something amusing, or when he said something like worship. It happened when Mobei Jun thought about how he loved him.

“There,” Shang Qinghua said softly. His voice had taken on a different tone. It was a tone that was more unfamiliar, but something about it made Mobei Jun feel a pulse of warmth. “Like that.”

Mobei Jun wanted him to touch him more. He wanted to feel Shang Qinghua’s soft hands, the tips of his fingers, the press of his palm. He was warm, compared to the stone. It was cold in his cavern, and he often thought about whether it was comfortable for Shang Qinghua, but he knew that if Shang Qinghua couldn’t manage it, it was likely that he wouldn’t have ventured there at all. He was perfect, Mobei Jun thought. Shang Qinghua was perfect for him.

“You glow,” Shang Qinghua said. “Nothing else glows. Not like this. You glow, and you glow when I say certain things.”

Mobei Jun pulsed. Shang Qinghua was smart, he thought, so smart. 

“You like it when I say nice things about you, don’t you?” Shang Qinghua’s voice was somewhat mischievous. “You like it when I praise you.”

I do. I love it. I deserve you. You’re mine.

“You must be a god,” Shang Qinghua said, laughing. The sound was immensely pleasant. He only laughed sometimes, quite like Mobei Jun, but when he did, it was like the entire temperature changed. “You love when I praise you, it had to be that you think I should.”

There was a brief pause.

“Should I?” Shang Qinghua asked. “If you could save me from this fate, would you?”

No, Mobei Jun thought. Not if your fate is me. If your fate is me, I would keep you forever.

“Save me,” he murmured softly, settling back into his shoulder. “Save me, my god.”

__________

Shang Qinghua, Mobei Jun had learned, was conniving. 

The more he escaped his duties in preparing himself for Mobei Jun, the more clear it became that he’d had a lifetime of finding ways to escape the other mermen in his pod and in his colony. Shang Qinghua, it seemed, knew how to disappear from plain sight, convince someone that he wasn’t doing something he wasn’t supposed to be, and finding ways to convince others to agree to whatever it was that he was doing.

Mobei Jun discovered that Shang Qinghua had rituals to complete, all of which were intended to prepare him to be married to a powerful sea god. Shang Qinghua spoke of that sparingly. He seemed to be disturbed at the thought of having to alter his body in some way. At first he’d thought that he was squeamish or disinterested in being used in that way.

He learned it was less about that, and more about offense that Shang Qinghua couldn’t take it if he tried. Mobei Jun practically burned at the thought of taking Shang Qinghua in that way. He had also discovered a new feeling during that visit. He’d discovered that he felt jealous. Even though he knew that he was the one that Shang Qinghua was promised to, and that he was actually being prepared for Mobei Jun, he knew that Shang Qinghua thought it was to someone else, to a random god, and the thought of that happening made Mobei Jun incensed.

He eventually found peace in it though. He found peace in the fact that if something like that were to happen, he had faith in himself that he would find some sort of way to break free of his prison in order to ensure nothing of the sort happened.

Shang Qinghua was a little more open in conversation after claiming he knew Mobei Jun was listening. But then, one day, he’d been open enough to admit that he hadn’t thought so at all.

“I keep soothing myself with this,” he muttered, sounding dejected. He was at Mobei Jun’s feet again, kneeling in the sand. He wasn’t leaning against Mobei Jun, as he often did. Instead, he drew shapes in the sand, tail curled around himself. 

With what?

“The plants, the crabs… They glow no matter what. They’re always glowing. They pulse with the current.” Shang Qinghua’s voice was almost shameful. “I know that there isn’t a god here. I don’t know what makes the plants glow. But it’s wishful thinking.”

What? Mobei Jun was bewildered. I thought you knew. Depend on me. Depend on me, your god.

“I’m just lonely, I guess,” Shang Qinghua muttered. “I wish that you could save me. I want to be saved.”

I know, Mobei Jun thought. I love you. I’ll save you.

“I want this place to save me. I want this place to be impossible to find, to sustain me, so I don’t have to go where they take me, and so they don’t change me the way they want to. I want to be this, just this.”

I won’t let them change you. I want you, as you are.

Shang Qinghua sighed deeply, heavily. The cavern was quiet.

I want you. I’ll save you.

__________

Mobei Jun could tell that something was changing. Shang Qinghua had seemed different. He spoke the way he typically did, but his tone had changed into something more terse. His voice was tight, his shoulders drawn up, and despite the talking, there were more silences. 

After spending so much time with Shang Qinghua, it was natural for him to pick up on his tells. Mobei Jun felt as though he knew Shang Qinghua inside and out. He wanted to be able to be closer to him. He wanted to tell Shang Qinghua that he did not have to worry about marrying a god when it was himself. Mobei Jun would take care of him, so there was nothing to be concerned about. 

This frustration grew each day, alongside Shang Qinghua’s tension.

Then, one day, Shang Qinghua bestowed himself upon Mobei Jun earlier than normal.

At first, Mobei Jun had been eager at the thought of more time with him, but it took hardly even a moment for him to realize that something was wrong.

Shang Qinghua practically burst through the small entrance, breath quick and heavy. He pushed through the sand, shoving it away when he was normally more careful about it.

Mobei Jun watched him from his stationary throne, helplessly still and mute.

Shang Qinghua was speaking in a rapid fire, low and indistinguishable. Mobei Jun tried to parse out what he was saying, but it was completely incomprehensible. Then, it was difficult to focus on anything else, for he noticed that Shang Qinghua was clutching at his arm.

He swam to his typical spot on Mobei Jun’s leg, body hunched over. Mobei Jun could not see or determine what was wrong, but he knew that whatever had happened, Shang Qinghua was somehow hurt. The thought enraged him. He felt another surge of helplessness, that time more desperate.

“—can’t believe they would go to such an extreme over a meeting,” Shang Qinghua muttered, tearful and wobbly. The comment blared loudly in Mobei Jun’s head, alerting him to the fact that someone had done this to Shang Qinghua.

While Mobei Jun’s mind spiraled with a pulsating anger, Shang Qinghua continued his lament.

“It’s ridiculous,” he practically spat, fingers holding his wrist both firmly and delicately. “There’s still so much time. What point is there to a meeting? And to tear into my arm so deeply. It simply cannot be that important at this stage!”

There was a brief moment of silence in Mobei Jun’s head, in which it was like everything paused in preparation for the wash of fury that rolled through him. When it did, it was torturously heavy and warm. He wanted to heal Shang Qinghua. He wanted to tell him not to worry, and that it would be over soon, and it did not have to be as terrible as he was afraid of. He wanted to find whoever had torn open Shang Qinghua’s flesh and make them suffer for their impasse.

It’s me, he thought. It’s me. Release me and let me save you.

Shang Qinghua settled a little more in Mobei Jun’s lap. He was less scrunched, body relaxing despite the fact that he still held his arm in a way that betrayed his discomfort. It was clear to Mobei Jun that he was in pain. Mobei Jun felt the anger begin thrumming in him, coming alive at the sight of Shang Qinghua’s blood spreading and inking through the water of his small shelter.

A few moments later, after the quiet had done nothing but further enrage Mobei Jun, Shang Qinghua leaned against the stone of his chest, head resting at Mobei Jun’s clavicle. He sniffled.

Mobei Jun thrummed at the sound, and the dim light in their cavern pulsed brighter. Shang Qinghua looked around, noticing it, and shifted along Mobei Jun’s lap to peer around them at the algae and plants. The blood on his arm smeared against Mobei Jun’s chest. He felt it more than he saw it. The texture, though wet, was different than the texture of water. It was heavy, warm, and rich. It was life.

The cavern grew brighter, and Mobei Jun almost belatedly realized that the thrumming he felt began to shift into a physical kind, and he could see it in the way Shang Qinghua’s hair vibrated in the water. A crack resounded through their small enclosure, and the light brightened, lighting the space in near-white.

Shang Qinghua’s face was lit up, eyes wide as he stared up at Mobei Jun. He was shifting off of his lap slowly, alarmed and intrigued at once.

Mobei Jun had a brief moment of complete clarity, in which he realized what was happening, and knew that it might hurt Shang Qinghua if he were to be caught in it. That brief moment had allowed him one panicked second to worry about it before his mind was overtaken in the surge of power and sensation. 

He was unsealing.

Just as being sealed was intense, so was breaking free. If he’d thought that the burst of anger and energy at seeing Shang Qinghua hurt was overwhelming, then being unsealed was like being cloven in two. In a sense, perhaps he was. He distantly heard the sound of the stone breaking apart, and his power poured out. He still felt contained, for his body was large, and so was his presence, and the cavern had been small. It had been made to house a sedentary creature, one sat and controllable. Mobei Jun was neither of those things.

The power he felt, and the pulsing relief of freedom, was staggering. The glow was blinding for that moment in which he was being unsealed, but it began to dim as it rushed back into him, receding and crawling back after having extended itself to break him free from the seal and stone. 

Mobei Jun, though his unsealing had come from an unruly anger, felt more and more at ease with each passing moment. He had been ready, it seemed, to be freed. As had been intended, his body and his mind had settled with itself and the power bestowed upon it, and it was completely within his independent will. It had happened earlier than anyone seemed to think, including Mobei Jun himself, but he was unsurprised. After all, he had been given a sacrifice from a worthy offering, and he would not ignore such a gift.

His eyes found Shang Qinghua the next moment, that time with his real eyes, his physical eyes, and even though his mind had interpreted Shang Qinghua correctly, it was different to see him. It was different to be fully seen by him.

Shang Qinghua was pressed up against the wall of the cavern, body curled up tight, staring up at him in terror. His arm was clutched to his chest, still bleeding into the water between them.

Without another thought, Mobei Jun was before him, swimming to his face, reaching out to touch it, to finally feel him.

Shang Qinghua had still been frozen, mouth parted and body rigid as Mobei Jun’s fingers stroked gently over his soft cheek. His skin against Mobei Jun’s stone had been like a sun ray from heaven. But his skin to Mobei Jun’s skin was something else entirely. 

“Qinghua,” he said. The sound of his voice, even to his own ears, was alarming. It rumbled through the seabed, reverberating through the sand and rock. He touched Shang Qinghua’s arm, fingers dusting gently over the wound.

Shang Qinghua, as Mobei Jun had expected, seemed to be catching on. His mouth closed as he looked down at his rapidly healing arm. He blinked many times, as though coming to terms with that fact that the statue that had been keeping him company was in fact, a god.

“It is me,” Mobei Jun said, unable to help but finally speak it. “Qinghua, it is me.”

Shang Qinghua looked back up at him, face still frozen.

“You belong to me,” Mobei Jun said. “I will take you, and you will be mine, just as you had requested.”

Shang Qinghua swallowed, eyes searching Mobei Jun’s face as though trying to make sure the statue he’d been keeping company with really was the god in front of him. He looked at his arm again, where his wound was newly healed, and then looked back at Mobei Jun. He reached out, tentative, until the tips of his fingers touched Mobei Jun’s jaw.

It reminded Mobei Jun of when Shang Qinghua had first come to the cavern, curious and reverent.

Shang Qinghua’s eyes searched him, and then his mouth parted several moments before he formed words to speak. “You are my god,” he said, voice low. Then, he repeated it, more of a question. “My god?”

Mobei Jun leaned in, peering at his sweet face. “I am your god.”

Shang Qinghua quivered slightly, but his fingers remained. “The one—I’ve been preparing for one. Are you him?”

“Yes,” Mobei Jun murmured. His own fingers trailed over Shang Qinghua’s face again, down his throat, and to his clavicle. “And even if I was not—I would be. I will always be.”

Shang Qinghua’s face flushed, though he did not look displeased. He shifted forward, other hand coming up to rest hesitantly on Mobei Jun’s shoulder. Mobei Jun wished to strongly encourage such touch, so he leaned in more, gently stroking Shang Qinghua’s skin. “Thank you for healing my arm,” he whispered.

Mobei Jun hummed, pleased. “It is only fair that your devotion be met with gratitude.”

“Devotion,” Shang Qinghua parroted distantly. His eyes wandered again, over every inch of Mobei Jun’s form. “Yes,” he breathed eventually. “Yes, devotion.”

Mobei Jun’s fingers found his chin. He tilted Shang Qinghua’s face up, their noses only a few inches apart. “Look at me, Qinghua.”

Shang Qinghua’s eyes fluttered back up to meet his. 

“Devote yourself to me,” he said—he demanded. 

Shang Qinghua nodded, mindlessly. 

“And I will devote myself to you.” Mobei Jun’s power sang when Shang Qinghua shivered beneath his hands. Mobei Jun leaned in.

The sound of voices cut through their quiet.

At first, the sound was low and rapid, as though trying to be unobtrusive. The sound, no matter how low, interrupted Mobei Jun’s newfound freedom, his rage, his relief, and his first meeting with Shang Qinghua. He felt the power and the feeling pulse through his veins. Shang Qinghua seemed to perk up, too, and his body stiffened.

With the shifting of Mobei Jun’s body, Shang Qinghua seemed to jolt out of his stupor. He straightened, eyes wide. “It’s them,” he whispered. “They probably followed me.”

Mobei Jun studied him for a moment, considering his options. “Are you frightened?” He asked, both curious and challenging at once.

Shang Qinghua seemed to recognize it as mostly challenge. He stared up at Mobei Jun in something akin to apprehension. His eyes shifted to and fro, not settling on anything specific. He did not seem to know how to answer that question.

Mobei Jun knew, despite the fact that he himself knew he would not hurt Shang Qinghua, that he must have had an alarming presence to him. He’d only just learned that the statue he had been keeping company for so long was more powerful than any creature in the sea. 

“Are you frightened of your own people?” Mobei Jun amended, his voice still sounding like a demand.

Shang Qinghua glanced toward the entrance of the cavern. “I…suppose not?” He sounded unsure, and his answer came like a question.

“No?”

“I was,” Shang Qinghua whispered. “But, with this new information I have, I feel mostly… confused—like I cannot catch up.”

“Then I shall eliminate your confusion and your fear all at once.” Mobei Jun said the words almost like a snarl. He had not forgotten the trespass against Shang Qinghua, neither had he forgotten about his own sealing. There was retribution to be had, and Mobei Jun would give it willingly and swiftly.

Shang Qinghua’s mouth parted on an aborted question, likely what Mobei Jun meant to do, when he cut himself off in surprise. 

Mobei Jun lifted away from him, and he let his body swell to a larger size, hand lifting as he used the water tripping over his fingers to crack open the cavern that had both housed and trapped him. A fissure appeared from the base to the top, opening the structure like a clam. 

He was able to stretch to an even larger size, so that he towered over the merpeople who had gathered to congregate where they had followed Shang Qinghua.

There were the elders, whose status was clear. They wore specialized ornaments, much like had been worn when Mobei Jun had been sealed. In likelihood, the memorabilia had been passed down through the generations. Mobei Jun took each of them in, ignoring their horrified and alarmed expressions to instead assess if any of them were clear descendants of his own traitors. 

Behind the elders, quivering in shock, were a line of four shackled together. Mobei Jun’s eyes zeroed in on the placement of those shackles. Each of them had marks where Shang Qinghua had marks. He glanced below himself, where Shang Qinghua was in the same place he’d been, curled up into the sand and staring up at him. His expression was different than the rest. Shang Qinghua’s face was akin to something more like awe.

Mobei Jun looked to the spot on his arm where the mark had been. He looked back to the line of merpeople locked together. It became clear that they had been preparing to offer the merpeople to Mobei Jun that very day. Mobei Jun, seeing the unwilling faces stare up at the god they were being sacrificed to, coupled with the clear discontent that Shang Qinghua had at the thought of being given to a god, had the realization that the sacrifice had not been anything close to a gift. If anything, it would have been more of a lethal sacrifice. 

Perhaps there had been some indication that a marriage meant something different for Shang Qinghua’s purpose, but that the expectation had been dangerous in nature. 

And, Mobei Jun realized, Shang Qinghua’s blood had done some of the awakening for him. It began to make more sense why Shang Qinghua had been so resistant. Preparation meant something more cruel. Not only had it been cruel, but it had been unnecessary. Mobei Jun hadn’t needed any of their preparation. He’d just needed Shang Qinghua.

“Mobei Jun,” one of the elders spoke, voice quivering slightly. 

Mobei Jun looked to him. “Did you not expect me?” He asked, borderline rhetorical.

“The conditions of your seal,” the same elder said, weak, but loud. “They have not yet been met.”

“I suppose that the conditions of my seal were to be a thousand years, to allow me time to control my powers.” Mobei Jun paused, glancing to the shackled sacrifices. “Or some hundred years and a sacrifice to appease me.”

“The time was opportunistic,” the elder said. His eyes drifted down and found Shang Qinghua still down by the bottom of Mobei Jun’s tail. 

Mobei Jun swam forward, tail moving in a way that blocked Shang Qinghua from the elder’s view. He towered above the elders, staring directly beneath his nose at them. They were frozen in fright, and Mobei Jun reveled in it. The lost, melancholic years of his imprisonment had made his mind hazy and unclear. It felt open again, present and alive. 

“Opportunistic,” he commented.

“Our descendent offering was… special.” 

“Oh?” Mobei Jun questioned.

“He was born with a gift of healing,” another elder commented. “His parentage was mostly unremarkable. It was a sign. He was meant to be utilized, and so we had to try and wake you.”

Mobei Jun considered this, and he considered what it meant for them to use Shang Qinghua for his healing, how they discovered this, and how they might have used him. He also thought of how Shang Qinghua hadn’t been used, but had intended to be. He thought of how little regard they’d held for his wellness.

“Consider the sacrifice enough then,” Mobei Jun sneered. “I have been awoken.”

Shang Qinghua shifted beneath him, a hand brushing over the fin of Mobei Jun’s tail. His hand was gentle, moving it and caressing it like he was curious. His awe was palpable and appreciated.

“How was it that you managed to be unsealed before we were able to complete it?” The head elder asked. His hand held fast to the end baton of the shackles. 

Mobei Jun offered him a derisive look. “Are you so shocked that the strength of a god is not understandable to you?”

The elder’s mouth parted on an answer he did not have. He said nothing.

“Are you surprised that you are infinitely weaker than I?”

Shang Qinghua seemed to grow his courage. He swam up, just slightly, through the curling tail of Mobei Jun. He swam up only to his side, not even at his hip. He looked at him, as though curious, and then out to the elders and the sacrifices. 

The elders locked their gazes onto him. The leader looked back to Mobei Jun. “We are the saints. Our ancestors were the ones to save us and the rest of the waters from your uninhibited power. Since you have woken and are in full faculty, let us worship you as intended.”

Mobei Jun considered him. His tepid trust grew colder at the suggestion. “Is worship what your ancestors intended after sealing me, and then hiding me in a nearly unfindable cavern?”

“We cannot worship you if we have perished. Let us worship.”

“Do you think that something worthy of worship needs it to live?”

The saints all shifted in their place. 

“We will do as you please,” the head continued. “Tell us.”

“What can mere mortals like you do for me?” Mobei Jun asked disdainfully. “I will do as I please, and you will pester me no more.”

There was an extended silence, which felt heavy with both fear and discomfort. Just before Mobei Jun was about to turn away to abandon them to the open waters, the head looked down and locked his gaze onto Shang Qinghua.

“Come, A-Hua.”

Shang Qinghua stilled. His hand had been brushing the very edge of Mobei Jun’s fin, and his fingers froze there. He said nothing for several moments, and then Mobei Jun could feel his face turn up to look at Mobei Jun. Mobei Jun himself was frozen, but in an enraged silence.

“It is time to return. The sacrifice is no longer needed.”

Mobei Jun, though he felt an impulse to kill them, turned to look at Shang Qinghua.

Shang Qinghua was already looking up at him, eyes wide. His fingers were curled around Mobei Jun’s tail, as if his small grip would keep him attached. Mobei Jun felt a surge of wanting and protectiveness in equal measure. 

“Qinghua is mine,” Mobei Jun said, venomous. He had said it with his gaze still locked with Shang Qinghua’s. And when Shang Qinghua’s shoulders loosened in what looked to be relief, Mobei Jun turned back to the saints. His stare was penetrating, his expression neutrally scathing. “And I will be keeping him.”

There were several strangled gasps and noises. “But—”

Mobei Jun lowered, head coming to hover just in front of the head saint’s. “But what?” Mobei Jun snarled. “By all means—argue.”

The elder swallowed, shifting in the water uncomfortably. “He—But—”

“He is mine,” Mobei Jun hissed.

Shang Qinghua shifted further into the rippling fins from Mobei Jun’s tail, partially hiding him from view. His silence and his movements were telling. Even if he’d resisted, the elders knew that they would not be able to stop Mobei Jun from taking him. Shang Qinghua’s own desire to leave with him made it impossible to retrieve him.

The knowledge of this seemed to dawn on each of them, and the responding silence was telling.

Eventually, the head saint nodded once. “Very well.”

“Do not think you give permission to me, or to him,” Mobei Jun sneered. “I remain infinitely more powerful than you. You would do well to remember that now my powers have fully fledged, sealing me a second time would not be easy.”

The elder swallowed again, audible that time, and nodded once more. “Yes, Mobei Jun.”

Mobei Jun continued to hold his gaze until the elder dropped his eyes, and tilted his head down. 

Drawing back, Mobei Jun reached down to bring Shang Qinghua closer, and then whisked him away.

__________

Shang Qinghua had been quiet as Mobei Jun took them through the waters. It had felt somewhat out of place, considering the amount of talking that Mobei Jun was used to when it came to him chattering. Mobei Jun was also used to saying nothing, and having no ability to add anything. The silence, not his lack of input, felt almost disconcerting. 

Mobei Jun did not push him to speak. He figured it must have been shocking, and perhaps he was still adjusting to the new life he was about to lead. There were moments in which he wondered if Shang Qinghua was regretting it, but he did not linger on those thoughts. Regardless, it was the situation they were in.

Though Shang Qinghua did not speak, he did curiously look around, and feel around Mobei Jun’s fins, hands, and scales. Mobei Jun was still in a larger form, though not as large as the form he’d been in when they’d spoken to the saints. 

“Where are we going?” Shang Qinghua asked, around halfway to Mobei Jun’s old domain.

“My previous home,” he said. “I am going to return to my own place.”

Shang Qinghua was quiet again, though this time it seemed more pensive.

“What is it you are thinking?” He asked. It was nice, to be able to request that information. Even if Shang Qinghua decided not to give it, he’d never been able to ask for it before.

“I was thinking about what I’d learned of you, before I knew that it was you. They tried to teach us and warn us, based on passed down knowledge and stories of what life was like before you were sealed, and then after.”

Mobei Jun hummed. He neither pressed for more information, nor did he feel the need to know.

However, Shang Qinghua continued on anyway, seemingly encouraged by the sound of acknowledgement. “They used to say tat you were a tyrannical type of king.”

Mobei Jun’s mouth twitched.

Shang Qinghua’s soft hands brushed over the inside of Mobei Jun’s arm. “They said that they knew if you had ascended to godhood, it would be a terrible reign. They said that you had been selfish and ruthless in your rule, so if you were to receive divine powers, they would likely be wiped out.”

Mobei Jun considered this. He remembered his time as a mortal, but it had been somewhat fuzzy in the cavern he’d been placed in. Back during the seal, his consciousness had been murky, dark, and difficult to grasp onto. It often felt like previous memories were slippery and brief, never able to be examined. Now that he could finally hold onto those memories, they seemed incredibly distant.

“I wondered about that,” Shang Qinghua murmured. His torso leaned into Mobei Jun’s hold, curling inward as if escaping the chill from the deep waters. “It’s not that I didn’t believe it, but something seemed off about it.”

“What was off about it to you?” Mobei Jun was more curious about Shang Qinghua’s interpretation of everything rather than the information he’d been given.

“I guess I felt like they’d do something aside from what they had done if it’d been that bad. Based on my own experience of them, I began to just think that they didn’t like that you were more powerful than them. Kings, no matter how respected, still listen to their saints. And if they don’t, the people do. But gods? Gods are revered above all. It wouldn’t matter what they said anymore.”

Mobei Jun hummed his agreement. Whether that was their actual reason or not, Mobei Jun remembered enough to know that he did indeed get the impression that his godhood was almost like an offense to them. His loss of control was all the reason they needed to seal him away. 

“Though,” Shang Qinghua began, “I suppose it’s not entirely impossible that they didn’t seal you for longer, or try to get rid of you, solely because they were not powerful enough to do so.”

Mobei Jun let out a small laugh. The stretch of a smile felt unfamiliar. Even though he was no longer sealed, and his body felt fluid with freedom, it was as though he still expected to be unmoving. 

It was quiet between them again, though it seemed less tense that time. Shang Qinghua seemed more at ease, and his body was more relaxed against Mobei Jun.

“How far away is it?” Shang Qinghua asked quietly.

“We are almost there,” Mobei Jun said. “I was not far from my domain when they sealed me.”

“Oh,” Shang Qinghua said. He considered for a moment. “I would like to hear about it, if you were amiable to tell me.”

Mobei Jun hummed in agreement. He glanced down at him. Shang Qinghua was pointedly looking away, as though he was feeling shy. “We have plenty of time to go over it.”

Shang Qinghua’s mouth turned up into a small smile.

A few moments later, Mobei Jun caught sight of the familiar rock formation. His home was laid into the side of a cliff, carved out into a cave. It sunk deep into the rock, untouched by light. When Mobei Jun had just ascended, his power and his godhood had soaked into the life in the cave, much like it had in the cavern, and there had been a soft glow of light from the bioluminescent plants and algae.

As they neared the opening, Mobei Jun could see that these plants and creatures had continued to thrive in his absence. It appeared that his resting place has been mostly untouched. It appeared to have been infiltrated by fish, crabs, and was overgrown with plants. However, everything he’d left behind was in their same place, sunken into current-blown sand.

His quarters led deeper into the cavern, where another opening led into the halls of his palace. The place he’d taken Shang Qinghua had been through an outer entrance, hidden from the naked eye. Mobei Jun entered and brought Shang Qinghua inside.

Shang Qinghua was released when they reached his rooms, and he immediately began to search around the space in curious awe. 

“Wow,” he breathed. “It’s so nice here. I had no idea this existed. They said that the ruins of your old palace would be crumbling.”

“Perhaps it is,” Mobei Jun replied. He looked around, assessing any changes. “I do not know how the rest of the palace is faring.”

“Is it deeper into this cave?” Shang Qinghua asked eagerly, turning to stare at him.

“Yes,” Mobei Jun said, feeling pleased at Shang Qinghua’s interest and pleasure.

“Can I see?”

Mobei Jun smiled. He swam to Shang Qinghua and hovered at his side. He stared down at him, reveling in the sight of him, and in the fact that Shang Qinghua was finally looking upon him, too. He reached out to touch his face, still pleased and almost shocked at the feeling of Shang Qinghua beneath his flesh.

“Come,” he said, trailing just beneath Shang Qinghua’s chin. “I will show you the palace.”

__________

When they came upon the throne room, Shang Qinghua had seemed almost tired from their excursion throughout the palace. It had been dark, weak, and messy, but Shang Qinghua had eagerly looked upon each detail in every room. Mobei Jun’s people had long since left, going to find their own places to flourish. 

Shang Qinghua had asked him if he planned on requesting their return. Mobei Jun did not see the point, and he said as much. He was a god—he no longer needed their input in his rule. He wanted to just be, he’d said, and he did not need the others to be.

He had also told Shang Qinghua that he was pleased and happy to have his company alone. Shang Qinghua had flushed pleasantly at that, and said nothing in his charmingly flustered state.

Mobei Jun looked upon the large hall. He could remember, more clearly in that moment, what life had been like when he’d been king in the palace. He remembered the brief time he’d spent there as a god, too. There was nothing remarkable about it, now that he had it to look back on in hindsight. Mobei Jun felt that it’d been somewhat empty then as well, even despite the bustling nature of royalty and a populated city.

Shang Qinghua lingered beside the throne. He looked over it, eyes catching and pleasantly staring at the dark, rock, chiseled artfully into a seat fit for a king—a god. It was large, big enough to fit Mobei Jun at his current size. 

Mobei Jun watched Shang Qinghua watch the throne. He went to sit, where he had used to sit all those years ago.

“I always thought I would just end up dead.”

Mobei Jun looked to Shang Qinghua’s face.

“I thought that I’d be offered to you, when the time came, and that when it happened, I’d be killed, as acceptance.” Shang Qinghua’s gaze remained low on the glittering jewels pressed into the rock. “I didn’t think that you might accept me and not destroy me.”

“You used to lament being married away to a god,” Mobei Jun said. “All this time, you equated marriage with death?”

“I suppose. Whether in literal or figurative terms.” Shang Qinghua shrugged lightly. “I just thought that it’d be—not like this.”

Mobei Jun moved to sit on his throne. 

He settled into the seat, rock stiff but not uncomfortable. It was different, when he himself could move and was not fused with it. “What this is—is it acceptable to you? Do you equate it with death?”

Shang Qinghua glanced at his face, and then away again. “No…”

“Marriage,” Mobei Jun began slowly, peering at his face to see his reaction. “Are you opposed to it?”

Shang Qinghua’s face flushed deeper than it ever had before. He ducked his head, expression hidden away.

“Do not hide from me,” Mobei Jun whispered. He reached out to tip his face up. “Tell me, Qinghua.”

“I’m not opposed,” Shang Qinghua muttered, his face directed toward Mobei Jun though his gaze still wandered away.

Mobei Jun felt pleased. “You do not need to feel embarrassed. I’ve known you a long while. And while I have not spoken to you very much in that time, I believe that you also know me.”

Shang Qinghua finally met his gaze. He leaned into Mobei Jun’s hand. “Yes,” he agreed softly. “I do feel like I know you.”

Mobei Jun felt his expression gentle. He leaned back. “Come sit with me,” he said, more of a request than a demand. “Like you always do.”

Shang Qinghua looked embarrassed again. “Are you sure?”

“I am certain.” 

Shang Qinghua hesitated a moment longer. He moved toward Mobei Jun, until he was settled over his lap. He held his body stiff, but after a few moments, relaxed into Mobei Jun’s embrace. Then, in a show of boldness, leaned against Mobei Jun’s chest the way he always did. His head rested against Mobei Jun’s clavicle. “This time, you talk.”

“Me?” 

Shang Qinghua nodded, humming softly. “Yes. My king, tell me about you.”