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"Wake up, little beast."
At the sound of his master's voice, Luo Binghe jerked awake. His heart slammed against his ribs as he dragged in a startled breath.
"Good morning, Shizun." His voice came out steadier than he expected. Humble. Obedient. Exactly as his master preferred.
Today was finally the day.
He blinked away the remnants of sleep, and only then noticed Shen Jiu sitting at the end of his bed, legs crossed, hands resting on the mattress on either side of his hips.
That, more than anything, nearly made him lose his composure.
"Today is an important day," Shen Jiu said. His gaze lingered on him for a moment before he gave a curt nod. "Ming Fan will come to assist you with your preparations. I will see you at dusk."
He rose smoothly, robes rustling against the floorboards.
"Do not be late."
And with that, Shen Jiu took his leave. The door opened with a soft scrape and closed with a shallow creak.
Luo Binghe remained sitting upright.
He listened.
One heartbeat.
Two.
Three.
He waited until the sound of his master's footsteps faded entirely. Then he scrambled toward the foot of the bed, the blanket tangling around his legs, his fingers clawing at the thin mattress. He had to hurry.
There was still a faint impression where Shen Jiu had been sitting.
Luo Binghe pressed both palms flat against the fabric, feeling for it.
His master's warmth was already fading beneath his hands, but it was there.
It was his.
Luo Binghe bowed his head, pressing his forehead to the place where Shen Jiu's hand had rested. He breathed in deeply—linen and dried herbs, with the trace of something cool and salt-clean beneath it. He closed his eyes, savoring the lingering scent.
He must have been sitting here for a while.
The realization settled in his chest like a familiar ache, one he knew would fade in time, just as it always did. Still, he remained there, crouched over the cooling spot, until the heat was gone and the fabric was just fabric again.
He lifted his head and looked toward the door. Hanging from a rusted iron hook was the symbol of the Order of the Eternal Tide: a spiral shell called the Eternal Shell, curling in on itself as if it would continue forever.
It was a real shell. Native to the island where the Order made its home, it grew nowhere else in the world.
The Order called themselves keepers of the sea's sacred will, devoted to the worship of the True Abyss.
Luo Binghe had washed up on their shores five years ago, a child too young to understand how dangerous the open water could be. He had fled his old life on a small boat and would have died at sea if Shen Jiu had not found him.
The Order took him in.
And Shen Jiu, Sea Priest of the Eternal Tide, raised him.
Today was his seventeenth birthday, and it fell on the holy day of the Deep Call.
The elders had spoken of the coincidence many times. The Deep Call was a ceremony performed only once every hundred years, and only two people were permitted to take part: a Sea Priest and his disciple.
Of all the Order's Sea Priests, Shen Jiu was the most attuned to the sea's will. Among its disciples, Luo Binghe was the most talented the Order had ever seen.
Together, they were the perfect candidates.
It was a blessing from the True Abyss.
But all Luo Binghe could think about was this: Today, they were going on a trip together.
Today, he would have Shizun all to himself.
Luo Binghe could hardly wait.
He smiled—a slow, private thing—as his fingers slipped from the place where Shen Jiu had been sitting.
The warmth was completely gone.
°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡
He was twelve, still skinny and half-starved, barely understanding the words the elders said to him. Shen Jiu had looked at him the way one might look at a stubborn barnacle—irritated, dismissive, as though it were a trivial thing to be scraped away.
"This one will be mine."
Luo Binghe had felt a thrill of hope. This was the man who had found him, pulled him from the waters, saved him from a slow and certain death. And now he was claiming him, telling the elders that Luo Binghe belonged to him.
That same afternoon, Shen Jiu took him to the eastern cove. He pointed to the water and said:
"Dive."
Luo Binghe splashed into the shallows, swallowed saltwater, and flailed until his hands found the rocks. Shen Jiu watched from the shore, expressionless.
When the boy finally crawled out, coughing and weeping, Shen Jiu had looked down at him and simply said:
"Again."
So he dove. And dove. And dove.
Shen Jiu sent him to the deepest drop-off, where the water turned black and the pressure stole the breath from his lungs, where the currents were treacherous and the rocks razor-sharp. He was made to scrape venomous sea urchins from the coral with nothing but a rusted iron rake and a frayed net. He dove for abalone in crevices too narrow for a grown man, shoulders scraping raw against the stone, lungs burning as he pried them loose before his air ran out.
And every time Luo Binghe surfaced, gasping and shivering, clutching his prizes in bleeding hands, he looked for Shen Jiu's approval. A nod. A flicker of acknowledgment. Anything.
But Shen Jiu gave him nothing. Just a glance, then a turned back.
Then one day, many months later, Shen Jiu threw a black pearl into the sea. It was perfectly round, perhaps fourteen or fifteen millimeters across, its surface smooth and dark as a moonless night. When the light caught it just right, a deep blue sheen appeared beneath the surface.
Shen Jiu watched it disappear beneath the waves.
"Fetch it."
Luo Binghe dove without hesitation.
He searched for hours. For days. For weeks and months. The other disciples whispered that it was impossible, that the pearl had been swallowed by the current, that Shen Jiu had given him a task with no end.
The years passed. He grew taller, broader. His lungs strengthened. He learned to endure the cold and crushing pressure of the deep, to read the currents, to find his way through darkness where the sunlight could no longer reach.
Still, the pearl eluded him.
Until one early morning, nearly four years after Shen Jiu had thrown it into the sea, Luo Binghe finally found it.
His body was bloodied from scraping on stone and coral, his vision darkening at the edges from lack of air. The healer told him later that he was lucky he hadn't suffered permanent damage. A few more minutes underwater, they said, and he might never have surfaced at all.
But he had it.
Luo Binghe surfaced gasping, the pearl clutched against his chest. He crawled onto the sand with what little strength remained to him. The elders stood in a silent row along the shore. And Shen Jiu was there, waiting.
Luo Binghe held out the pearl with both hands.
"Shizun."
He looked up, expecting the usual glare, the dismissive hum of acknowledgment.
Instead, his breath caught.
He couldn't understand why, but Shen Jiu's teeth had sunk into his lower lip with such force that Luo Binghe feared it might break and bleed. His hands clenched at his sides, knuckles turning white, his brows furrowed so deeply they seemed to disfigure his beautiful face.
"Shizun...?"
In an instant, the tension disappeared.
Shen Jiu's hands relaxed. His shoulders dropped.
When he looked at Luo Binghe again, there was nothing of that anger left. His expression had become almost impossibly gentle.
He reached out and took the pearl.
"Good boy, Binghe."
The next morning, the elders summoned them.
They announced that the True Abyss had chosen them for the Deep Call.
°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡
Shizun never complimented me again.
Luo Binghe looked up through the wavering blue. The boat's hull hung a few arm-lengths above him, dark wood dappled with shifting sunlight.
He had carved it himself over the past three months.
It was a small sailing vessel, long and broad enough for two, with a shallow draft that would let it pass over the coral beds without scraping. A single mast rose from the center, its folded sail secured neatly against it, while a pair of oars rested along the sides for when the wind failed or they needed to maneuver close to shore. The bow and stern were raised, with an open section between them.
In the middle of the boat, around the base of the mast, he had built a low, sheltered space. He had lined it with thick padding and woven mats, then added blankets over the top. Storage compartments had been fitted beneath the benches and along the sides, enough to hold their water jars and provisions.
At the bow, he had built a simple canopy frame that could be covered when they needed shelter from the sun or rain.
The elders had praised his craftsmanship when they saw it. A fine vessel, they said. A worthy offering.
Luo Binghe hadn't cared about their praise.
He only cared that Shizun would sit in it. That he might, perhaps, lie beneath the canopy when he grew tired, resting his hand against the padded side where Luo Binghe had carefully made certain there were no rough edges.
He was checking the caulking along the keel when shouting carried across the water.
"Hey! Driftwood!"
The voice was sharp and brittle. Luo Binghe recognized it instantly.
He surfaced slowly, water streaming from his hair, and blinked against the midday glare. On the shore, Ming Fan stood at the water's edge, arms crossed, a foot tapping impatiently against the sand. Even from this distance, his irritation was plain.
"Driftwood!" Ming Fan shouted again. "Are you deaf?"
Luo Binghe sighed and swam toward shore.
Driftwood.
It was the name Ming Fan had branded him with the day he'd washed up on their shore—a reminder of where he came from, and that he had never truly belonged.
The water grew shallower until his feet found the sandy bottom. He rose and waded out, water sluicing from his linen pants.
"You took your time," Ming Fan sneered.
A senior disciple three years older than Luo Binghe, Ming Fan had resented him from the beginning. Luo Binghe was younger and an outsider, yet far more talented than any of them. Ming Fan had never forgiven him for being chosen for the Deep Call.
"Didn't Shizun tell you I'd be helping you with the preparations?" Ming Fan said. "I went to your quarters. You weren't there."
Luo Binghe wrung the water from his hair, unconcerned.
"Shizun said you would help me. He didn't say I had to wait for you."
The words came out mild, almost pleasant. He glanced toward the boat floating offshore. "I've already finished checking the boat," he added. "Everything's in order."
Ming Fan stepped closer.
"You'd better hope so. It'd be a fine way to embarrass Shizun if your precious boat falls apart in the middle of the sea."
Luo Binghe's gaze went cold.
"It won't. I would never put Shizun in danger."
For a beat, Ming Fan's hands curled into fists. Then, with visible effort, he unclenched them.
"Fine. The boat isn't the only thing that needs preparing. Follow me."
He turned and started up the beach.
Without another word, Luo Binghe retrieved his tunic from beneath a palm and pulled it over his still-damp skin, falling into step behind his senior.
They walked along the coastline, past rows of fishing boats pulled up onto the sand. Nets hung from wooden frames to dry in the sun, while others lay coiled in neat piles beside baskets and traps. A few of the younger disciples were sorting through the morning's catch, dropping crabs into woven baskets and carrying the larger lobsters toward the kitchens.
Looks like they're eating good tonight.
Beyond the boats were the clam farms. Wooden stakes marked out sections of shallow water, where pale shells lay half-buried in the sand. Farther out, carefully tended patches of coral provided shelter for small fish and other sea life.
The Order took from the sea, but they also gave back to it. That was the way of the Eternal Tide.
Luo Binghe breathed in the ocean breeze as they walked. The air was warm and clean. He had lived here for years now, and the sea had become as familiar to him as the sound of his own breathing.
Somehow, this place had become home.
He looked out across the water. He felt it again: a pull from somewhere deep beneath the surface, a strange resonance that had hummed in his blood ever since the day he washed ashore.
Not yet.
He pushed the thought down and kept walking.
The sandy shore gradually narrowed as the coastline curved toward the heart of the island. Worn stone steps led inland toward the main square and the temple at its center. As they climbed, Luo Binghe glanced back over his shoulder and caught sight of the cliff.
It jutted from the far side of the island, rising sharply above the water.
He slowed without meaning to.
"Quit gawking, Driftwood!"
Ming Fan's voice brought him back.
Luo Binghe looked away from the cliff and continued up the steps.
The temple waited at the end of the central path.
°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡
The cliff rose from the water's edge, a sheer face of weather-worn stone that marked the highest point on the island. Luo Binghe had been up here before, but he had never quite noticed how high the cliff was.
From here, the ocean stretched to every horizon. The fishing boats were little white specks in the distance. Even the coral gardens below were nearly invisible beneath the shimmer of the water.
Shen Jiu stood a few paces ahead, his back to Luo Binghe, the wind pulling at his sleeves and the loose strands of his hair.
"What do you think of the sea, Binghe?"
Luo Binghe glanced at him, then stepped forward until he stood beside his master at the cliff's edge.
"It's a life-giver," he said. "It gives us everything. The fish we eat, the rain that waters our crops. The tides that carry our boats."
He paused, then smiled.
"It brought this humble one to you, Shizun."
For a moment, Shen Jiu said nothing. His gaze remained fixed on the sea.
"Does it?" he said at last.
Luo Binghe looked at him.
"You call it a life-giver. But we cannot live in it. We cannot breathe salt water. We cannot drink it."
His eyes followed the slow movement of the waves far below.
"We came from the sea, but if we tried to return to it, it would kill us."
The words settled strangely between them.
They stood in silence for a long moment, the wind whistling past them, the distant cries of gulls rising and falling.
Then Shen Jiu stepped back from the edge.
Luo Binghe thought he was leaving. He thought the conversation was over, that Shizun would return to the temple and leave him with the weight of those words.
Instead, Shen Jiu stopped.
He turned to face him.
"The sea does not care whether you love it."
Luo Binghe blinked. Before he could ask what his master meant, Shen Jiu broke into a run.
"Wha—?!"
Shen Jiu reached the edge of the cliff—
And jumped.
"Shizun!"
Luo Binghe lunged forward, catching himself just short of the drop. Shen Jiu dove cleanly, his figure shrinking against the blue below, and then the sea opened beneath him with a distant, brilliant flash of white.
Luo Binghe dropped to his knees.
"SHIZUN!"
He could not see him. The white splash faded. The ripples spread and thinned, and then even the bubbles disappeared, and the water stilled. No shadow moved beneath the surface. No figure stirred in the depths. For a long, terrible moment, there was nothing but the empty sea.
Then, far below, a dark head broke through.
Shen Jiu emerged from the water without haste.
He lifted one hand to brush the wet strands from his eyes, and as he did so, the sunlight caught him from behind, gilding his shoulders and the curve of his jaw.
His robes clung to his body, the white fabric turned translucent where it touched his skin. Against the vastness of the sea, he looked impossibly small, and yet he was the only one Luo Binghe saw.
Shen Jiu tipped his head back and looked up at the cliff.
"The sea is cruel, Luo Binghe! Do not forget it!"
Luo Binghe looked at Shen Jiu. Then at the sea. Without thinking, he stepped back, took one running step, and threw himself from the cliff.
The air rushed past him, cold and loud. The cliff face blurred at the edges of his vision. The sea rushed toward him, vast and glittering beneath the afternoon sun.
As he fell, the water seemed to open before him.
He could see all the way down—the coral gardens spreading beneath the surface in vivid reds and oranges, schools of bright fish flashing between them, long ribbons of kelp bending with the current. Sunlight scattered over everything, turning the water to shifting blue and gold.
And in the midst of it all was Shen Jiu, white against the blue.
"It is cruel!" Luo Binghe yelled as he fell, the wind snatching at his voice. "But it's also beautiful!"
The sea rushed up to meet him.
He struck the water hard enough to lose his breath. He sank, opened his eyes, and for an instant he saw it all again—the corals, the fish, the sun filtering down in pillars of light—and then he kicked upward, breaking the surface with a gasp.
When he surfaced, he laughed breathlessly.
Shen Jiu stared at him.
"Foolish boy."
There was something strange in his voice, as though Luo Binghe had caught him off guard and he had not yet decided whether to be impressed or offended.
Luo Binghe smiled.
Shen Jiu turned toward the shore.
"We should head back."
°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡
The main temple stood at the heart of the island, where the stone paths from the surrounding villages converged.
It was not a grand structure. The Order of the Eternal Tide had little use for extravagance. They had built their sanctuary with what the sea and the island provided: warm, honey-colored stone, bleached coral, and dark island wood. Thick layers of dried kelp covered the roof, woven tightly enough to shed rain while trapping cool air beneath. Strings of shells lined the edges, clicking softly whenever the breeze passed through.
The great doors were carved from dark wood and inlaid with shells of every shape and size. Among them were the Eternal Shells—the strange spiral shells that served as the symbol of the Eternal Tide. They hung on every door.
The doors burst open.
"A-Luo! Finally!" Ning Yingying beamed at him from the doorway. "The warm bath is ready inside."
"Huh? Ning-shijie?"
Luo Binghe looked from her to Ming Fan, who had accompanied him all the way here. He'd assumed Ming Fan would be the one assisting him through the entire preparation, and surely that included the bath.
Ming Fan merely grunted. He reached over to pat Ning Yingying on the head.
"I've dropped him off, so I'll see you later, Ying-er."
He gave her a smile that was almost pleasant, then glared at Luo Binghe. As if to say: Don't try anything dumb with her.
Luo Binghe stared back, baffled. Before he could say anything, Ming Fan turned and walked away.
Ning Yingying covered a laugh with the back of her hand.
"Don't mind him. Come on, A-Luo."
She stepped aside and beckoned him into the temple. Luo Binghe followed, though he glanced back once more at Ming Fan's retreating figure.
Ning Yingying noticed.
"You're wondering why I'm the one here instead of Ming-shixiong." She said it plainly, without embarrassment. "I begged him to let me do this."
"Why?"
Her smile turned wistful.
They entered the broad central hall. The altar waited at the far end, with the largest Eternal Shell on the island resting upon it. It was nearly the length of Luo Binghe's forearm, its spiral curling inward so tightly that the center seemed to disappear into itself. Fresh flowers, bowls of seawater, and small pieces of coral surrounded it as offerings.
There was no statue of a god.
The Eternal Tide did not worship a person.
Only the True Abyss.
"This might be the last time I see you, shidi. Disciples aren't allowed during the ceremony."
"Ning-shijie, I—"
"Oh, don't be sad, A-Luo!" she said quickly. "I'm sure you'll have a wonderful trip with Shizun."
Her smile brightened again.
"You'll get to spend all that time with him. I'm so jealous!"
Luo Binghe hesitated, but nodded. "Mn."
They continued deeper into the temple. Ning Yingying led him down a narrow corridor, where small oil lamps flickered in niches along the walls. Doors and side passages opened onto prayer rooms used by the Sea Priests and their disciples.
The corridor eventually gave way to a covered passage overlooking a small courtyard. Shallow pools had been built into the stone, their water trickling from one to the next before spilling into a garden of salt-tolerant flowers and low coral sculptures.
At the far end stood a smaller building attached to the temple.
Ning Yingying slid aside the curtain of hanging shells.
Warm, fragrant air drifted out.
The bath chamber was the most beautiful place in the temple.
It was circular and domed, with walls of pale limestone that curved upward to a ceiling open at the center to the sky. Through the opening, Luo Binghe could see a square of blue and the slow drift of clouds.
Underfoot, sea glass formed a mosaic of blues, greens, and soft amber, its pieces worn smooth by years of bare feet and warm water. The bath itself occupied most of the center of the room, a deep pool sunk into the floor and wide enough to span ten paces. Steam curled lazily from its surface.
The water came from a hot spring deep beneath the island, channeled through stone pipes and mixed with seawater until it reached a comfortable temperature.
Along the walls, carved wooden shelves held folded towels, jars of sea salt and crushed herbs, and small clay pots of coconut- and flower-scented oil.
Luo Binghe had never been here before. The bath was reserved for the most holy of Sea Priests, a place for purification before ceremonies or after long days in the sea.
Now it was empty, save for him and his shijie.
"Here we are," Ning Yingying said, stopping beside the pool. "The water's already warm. I checked it myself."
"Thank you, shijie."
Luo Binghe turned toward the bath and began undoing his clothes.
Ning Yingying watched him pull his tunic over his head and drop his pants.
"Oh, my!" Her hands flew to her face, fingers spread wide, eyes peeking through the gaps. Her cheeks had gone pink.
Luo Binghe paused. Well, this is awkward.
Good thing he had his back to her. He quickly wrapped a towel around his waist before turning to face her.
Ning Yingying laughed nervously. Of course, she was supposed to help him bathe. That had been the whole point of volunteering for this. She was meant to help scrub his back, rinse his hair, and make sure he was properly prepared before the ceremony.
It had seemed perfectly natural when she'd asked Ming Fan.
But when Luo Binghe removed his clothes, Ning Yingying was abruptly confronted with the fact that her A-Luo was no longer the same boy she'd once helped wash.
The child she remembered had been all skinny limbs and sharp little shoulders, perpetually covered in dust and seawater. She had practically been able to wrap one arm around him when she helped him wash his hair.
This Luo Binghe was...
Well.
Whatever Shizun's training had done to him, it had built him into something else entirely.
He had grown into a handsome young man, the kind who would have made the girls on the mainland turn their heads when he walked past.
Ning Yingying had not expected to be one of them.
"Ning-shijie."
She startled.
He was looking at her now, hands still on his hips, one brow slightly raised. His expression was not embarrassed. It was patient. Maybe a little amused.
"I can handle all this myself."
"Aiya. Sorry, A-Luo. Of course." She nodded rapidly, still peeking through her fingers. "Yes. I'll go get your ceremonial clothes."
"Mn. Thank you."
She carefully made her way to the curtain. By the time she reached it, Luo Binghe had already removed the towel and stepped into the pool.
Warm water rose around his ankles and knees. He let out a quiet breath as the heat seeped into his muscles.
The bath was pleasantly scented with sea lavender and a faint hint of citrus. But as he lowered himself farther in, Luo Binghe noticed that the water was murky.
He frowned.
"Ning-shijie, is the water supposed to be like this?"
She had one hand on the curtain when his voice stopped her.
Silence.
Then, softly, through the shells: "You're very perceptive, A-Luo."
"What is it?"
"Shizun used this bath before you did."
...
Luo Binghe looked down at the water.
He immediately sank beneath the surface.
There was a loud splash.
Ning Yingying giggled. "Take your time, A-Luo. You have the whole afternoon."
The hanging shells clattered softly as she slipped out. The bath fell quiet.
Fuck.
Luo Binghe palmed the water in his hands and brought it slowly to his face, tilting his head back. The warmth spread across his skin, tracing the lines of his jaw before slipping away in thin streams that ran down his neck and chest.
At least Ning Yingying had told him about Shizun only after he was already in the water. That towel would not have been able to hide anything.
He was hard. Achingly, unmistakably hard, his cock standing thick and heavy against his stomach beneath the hazy surface. He was not ashamed of it. This was part of the cleansing too, after all. To purify everything.
He wrapped his hand around himself and stroked, slow at first, feeling the drag of warm water against his skin.
Shizun.
Then faster.
His breath came harder, echoing faintly off the limestone. Steam curled around his shoulders. He thought of Shizun in this same water, cold and untouchable, and wondered if he had done the same. If those elegant hands had ever closed around—
His hips jerked.
°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡
The storm hit faster than the sky had warned.
Rain lashed the sea into white froth, waves rising like walls and collapsing with a roar, their spray stinging Luo Binghe's face. He had been out too far, deeper than he should have gone, chasing that elusive black pearl.
Serves you right, beast. Even the sea has grown tired of your arrogance, he imagined Shen Jiu saying.
He surfaced between swells, gasping, and was immediately dragged under again. The current spun him like driftwood, tumbling him until he no longer knew which way was up. He kicked blindly, fought toward the surface, and broke through with a ragged breath.
The sky was pitch black. Another wave was already cresting above him.
It slammed him down.
The second time he came up, his limbs were heavy. He kicked, fought, swallowed water. The shore was a blur in the rain, impossibly far away. He tried to orient himself, but the sea kept turning him, and every time he surfaced, another wall of water was waiting.
He could not die here.
Not with the pearl still somewhere below him. Not with Shen Jiu still on the island. Not when he had not yet—
A shape appeared through the rain.
A boat.
The dark hull pitched violently on the water, rising and falling with the swells. A figure stood at its stern, one hand braced against the mast, the other gripping the tiller.
Luo Binghe stopped breathing.
Shizun?
Shen Jiu leaned forward, searching the water.
What was he doing here!? He shouldn't have been able to keep the boat upright. He shouldn't have been out here at all!
Their eyes met through the rain.
"SHIZUN! GO BACK!"
The words were barely audible over the storm, but Shen Jiu seemed to understand. His expression sharpened.
"Shut up and hold on!"
He wrenched the tiller, turning the whole boat toward him. The hull swung across the waves, its bow rising sharply as it climbed a swell. Shen Jiu leaned over the side, one hand outstretched.
"Give me your hand!"
Luo Binghe reached.
Their fingers locked.
The sea pulled them in opposite directions, and Luo Binghe's shoulder nearly wrenched from its socket. He could feel the boat dragging away from him, the distance between them widening again.
But Shen Jiu's grip tightened.
"Don't you dare—"
The rest was lost beneath the thunder.
He hauled Luo Binghe up with a sudden, violent strength. Luo Binghe caught the gunwale, scrambled over it, and collapsed into the bottom of the boat, coughing, shaking.
Without thinking, he threw his arms around Shen Jiu's waist and pulled himself close, burying his face in his master's shoulder. The movement was so instinctive that he only realized what he had done when Shen Jiu's body went rigid underneath him.
He should have let go.
He knew that.
But Shen Jiu was here.
He's here. He's here. I didn't lose him.
Luo Binghe closed his eyes. The tears came hot and silent against Shen Jiu's soaked collar.
Shen Jiu's hand came up, perhaps to push him away, perhaps to steady him. It settled against the back of his head instead.
His fingers pressed into Luo Binghe's wet hair, holding him there as the storm raged around them.
Luo Binghe barely noticed. He was still clinging to Shen Jiu, his knees pressed against his master's thighs. His own diving clothes were thin, meant to shed water and cling close to the skin, and Shen Jiu's priestly robes were plastered flat against him, heavy and cold and useless against the rain.
Water filled every space between their bodies. It ran in cold sheets down Luo Binghe's back, pooled in the hollow of Shen Jiu's throat, seeped beneath the edges of their clothes until the fabric clung like a second skin, until he could not tell where the sea ended and Shen Jiu began. It felt as though they've both been swallowed whole.
"Enough," Shen Jiu said, his voice rough. "Luo Binghe. Get up."
Luo Binghe lifted his head too quickly.
He had meant only to obey. Instead, he found himself face-to-face with Shen Jiu, close enough that the older man's breath touched his mouth. Close enough that if either of them moved, even slightly, there would be no space left between them at all.
They both went still.
Shen Jiu's lips were parted, rainwater caught in the corners of his mouth. His eyes were wide—startled, a little scared.
Their hearts were pounding. Luo Binghe could feel Shen Jiu's against his own, beating hard and fast.
Despite his master's own words, neither of them seemed to know what to do.
Luo Binghe's gaze dropped.
Shen Jiu's lips were only a breath away.
The boat heaved beneath them, and Shen Jiu's eyes flicked to his mouth.
Then the next wave struck.
The boat rolled violently, throwing them both sideways. Luo Binghe grabbed the gunwale, Shen Jiu caught the mast, and together they fought to keep the vessel from capsizing.
The rest of the journey passed in a blur of rain and shouting. It was a miracle they made it to shore.
Luo Binghe never forgot the feel of Shen Jiu's heartbeat against his own.
°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡
The ceremonial robes were folded upon a low stone table when Luo Binghe emerged from the bath.
He took his time drying himself, making sure no trace of filth remained on his skin. His body felt new. Clean.
For now, that is.
He reached for the white linen pants. They were simple in cut, but the fabric was unlike anything he had worn before. The weave was so tight and smooth that they seemed to pour over his legs rather than be pulled on. He drew the braided sea-silk cord around his waist and tied it, leaving the ends to hang loose.
It was the finest clothing he had ever worn.
It was also the simplest.
He dressed himself, and was tying back his hair when Ning Yingying entered.
She stood behind him with a necklace held carefully in both hands, trying very hard not to cry. Her fingers trembled as she lifted it.
"A-Luo."
"I'm ready."
She swallowed.
"I know."
The necklace was made from two Eternal Shells, each nearly the size of his palm, polished until their surfaces caught the light. Between them hung a cluster of black pearls, small and tightly gathered, each one gleaming like a drop of ink.
Ning Yingying stepped closer and settled the dark cord around his neck. The shells rested together at his throat.
"There," she said, adjusting them. "Is it comfortable?"
"Yes."
She checked the knot one last time, then stepped back. Her gaze moved over him from head to toe.
"You look nice."
Luo Binghe glanced at himself in the mirror.
"I guess."
Ning Yingying smiled, but it faltered almost at once. She lowered her face and hurriedly wiped at her eyes, only for more tears to spill over.
"I'll miss you, A-Luo," she said, her voice shaking despite her attempt at a smile. "I have to go back to the dormitory now."
Luo Binghe looked at her. Ning Yingying, who had never been anything but kind to him. She was probably the only one who would miss him at all.
"Thank you," he said. "For being kind to me."
She nodded, quickly, bowed her head, and took her leave. There was no goodbye.
The door closed behind her.
For a while, Luo Binghe stood alone in the quiet temple.
The day's preparations were done. From here until dusk, he would be alone.
**
He left the room and made his way through the temple without waiting for anyone to come and fetch him.
He did not need anyone to tell him where to go. His feet already knew the way.
The Sea Priests were waiting.
They stood in two long rows, flanking the path that led from the temple steps down through the square and toward the coast. Deep grey cloaks, the color of storm clouds over the ocean, fell from their shoulders to the ground. The hoods were pulled low, shadowing their faces. The only adornment they wore was the Eternal Shell, each one the size of a fist, hanging alone against the dark fabric.
None of them looked at him.
Luo Binghe descended the temple steps. As he passed the first pair of priests, they bowed their heads.
One of them began to murmur.
"The Sea saw the world begin. And the Sea knows how the world will end."
Another voice picked it up, then another, until the murmur had become a wave that rippled down the line of priests, passing from mouth to mouth.
"May the True Abyss receive what is given."
"May the True Abyss remember what is given."
Luo Binghe walked on.
This was the same path he had taken that morning, but in reverse.
The path descended from the main square, past the market stalls that stood empty and shuttered, toward the coast. The farther he walked, the stronger the smell of the sea became.
"The Sea saw the world begin. And the Sea knows how the world will end."
The sun sank lower, and the sky deepened from gold to orange to a soft, burning pink. The light caught the edges of their hoods and made them glow, and the Eternal Shells around their necks flashed with strange colors.
Even these old relics looked amazing, Luo Binghe couldn't deny it.
It made him wonder what Shen Jiu would look like. Would he be wearing ceremonial robes as well? The thought came so naturally that Luo Binghe almost smiled.
By the time he reached the beach, the voices behind him had faded.
His boat was waiting at the shore, just as he had left it.
He had built it himself. Everyone had praised it when he finished, but that seemed a long time ago now.
The tide was coming in. Each wave reached a little farther up the shore before retreating again.
Luo Binghe stopped a few paces away.
"The Sea does not forgive."
He waited.
Soon, Shen Jiu would come down the path.
Then they would board the boat together.
"The Sea loves. The Sea loves. The Sea loves."
The light was almost gone when he finally saw movement at the far end of the beach.
Shen Jiu walked along the waterline, where the last of the waves reached over the sand.
Luo Binghe's breath caught.
His master was barefoot, and must have come around the island. There was no other way he could have reached this stretch of shore.
But he looked as though he had come from the sea itself.
He was not wearing his usual priestly robes. Instead, he wore layers of pale, pearlescent cloth, so luminous and sheer they seemed to have been woven from the shells themselves.
The fabric draped over him in folds, but it did little to conceal the shape beneath. Luo Binghe could see the line of his shoulders, the lean muscle of his arms, the curve of his waist and hips. Even where it was more opaque, it offered little protection from the imagination. The faint outline of his nipples showed through the fabric. Between his legs, the shadows were deeper, still there, a suggestion that made Luo Binghe's mouth go dry and his hands clench at his sides.
Shen Jiu might as well have been naked.
His hair was loose, spilling down his back and over his shoulders, no longer constrained by the guan and hairpin he always wore.
Luo Binghe so badly wanted to take him. Right there, on the sand, in the shallows, anywhere. He wanted to scoop Shen Jiu into his arms and keep him somewhere no one else could reach.
It took all his willpower to remain where he was.
Shen Jiu drew nearer. A veil covered the lower half of his face, fine white fabric sewn with tiny pearls. Only his eyes remained uncovered.
Luo Binghe had been so mesmerized that he blinked, and suddenly Shen Jiu was standing in front of him.
"Beast. You're staring."
The familiar disdain in his voice snapped Luo Binghe back into himself.
Ah.
He lowered his eyes. His face burned.
"My apologies, Shizun."
Shen Jiu gave him a look that suggested he did not believe the apology in the slightest.
"Let's go."
He motioned toward the boat.
Luo Binghe stepped forward at once.
"Careful."
His hands found Shen Jiu's waist—finally, finally—and the pearlescent fabric was warm beneath his palms, warmed by the skin beneath it. His fingers curved around the narrow span of Shen Jiu's ribs. As he helped him into the boat, the fabric shifted, slipping just enough for Luo Binghe's thumb to brush bare skin at his side.
Shen Jiu inhaled. Luo Binghe lifted him into the boat.
Once Shen Jiu was seated, he looked down at his disciple, the veil shifting faintly with each breath.
"Well?"
Luo Binghe climbed in at once.
The boat rocked gently with their weight, settling lower into the water. Shen Jiu swayed with the movement. Luo Binghe's hand shot out to steady him, but Shen Jiu caught himself against the edge of the hull before Luo Binghe could touch him. His hand closed on nothing.
He withdrew his hand and sat down beside his master, their knees almost touching.
Behind them, the Sea Priests appeared, still chanting. When they reached the boat, they placed their hands against its sides and pushed.
The hull scraped over the sand before sliding into the shallows and out toward deeper water. The priests continued to push until the current caught the hull and drew it away from the shore.
The mast swayed overhead, the folded sail shifting softly in the wind.
As with Ning Yingying, there was no goodbye.
The chant faded behind them. The shore grew smaller, the priests reduced to distant shapes against the white sand, until the boat had carried them beyond sight.
The boat drifted. The sea held them.
They were alone.
***
The island had shrunk to a dark smudge against the fading sky.
Now that there was nothing left to watch on shore, Luo Binghe looked around the boat.
Two ceramic jars of water had been secured beneath one of the benches so they would not roll with the waves. A few days' worth of dried provisions had been packed into another compartment, along with spare rope, oil, a small cooking vessel, and other supplies they might need.
His gaze lingered there.
Shen Jiu hadn't eaten in days. Neither of them had. Part of the purification ritual.
Is he hungry?
The thought circled, persistent. Then Luo Binghe realized it was he who was hungry.
Just not for food.
He dared a glance at Shen Jiu.
Before he could fully turn his head, he was taken aback to see that his master had risen from his seat and crossed the small distance between them. The boat barely rocked.
"Binghe," Shen Jiu said.
And stopped.
Luo Binghe's heart hammered. He didn't move. Couldn't. His hands stayed fixed at his sides, fingers curled tight against his thighs.
Shen Jiu waited. The water lapped softly against the hull.
Then he rolled his eyes.
"Is your head filled with rocks?"
Before Luo Binghe could answer, Shen Jiu climbed onto his lap and straddled him. His arms slipped around Luo Binghe's neck.
"Shizun—"
Shen Jiu rolled his hips up. The fabric of his robes dragged against Luo Binghe's chest, and Luo Binghe felt the faint, maddening brush of his nipples through the cloth. Then Shen Jiu lowered himself, slow and deliberate, his bottom grazing the length of Luo Binghe's cock through their clothes.
Shen Jiu leaned closer, whispering: "You already know what we have to do."
Fuck.
Luo Binghe's hands found Shen Jiu's waist.
"Please." His voice came out rough. "Tell me."
It was not that he didn't understand. His body understood. But Shen Jiu had always been the one to tell him what to do, and Luo Binghe had never learned how to act without being told.
Shen Jiu tilted his head, and kissed him.
It was light, almost perfunctory—a brush of lips, followed by a bite to Luo Binghe's lower lip. Shen Jiu dragged it out slowly between his teeth before releasing it.
"This master orders you to stop pretending," Shen Jiu murmured into his mouth. He licked Luo Binghe's bruised lip. "Give everything to me, little beast."
The words struck like a spell, shattering the last of his restraint.
Luo Binghe stood, lifting Shen Jiu with him. He caught his master's lips in his own. Their kiss was open-mouthed and desperate, wet sounds filling the close space of the boat.
They groaned into it. Luo Binghe was hard—he couldn't help it. Shen Jiu's tongue was in his mouth. Shen Jiu's thighs were tight around his waist. Shen Jiu's fingers were in Luo Binghe's hair, pulling hard enough to sting.
There was no hiding it. Shen Jiu moved and felt the length of him press against his stomach through their robes. A low, amused sound escaped him, and Luo Binghe swallowed it greedily.
Shen Jiu loosened his hold, letting his legs slide down Luo Binghe's body. They separated only long enough for Luo Binghe to pull off his shirt. Shen Jiu helped him with the fabric, and the moment it was gone, they were kissing again.
When they finally sank down, it was onto the cushioned floor of the sheltered section. The padding was thick beneath them, lined with blankets and fitted snugly against the wooden boards.
Luo Binghe was quietly glad he had thought to make it so. He had wanted it soft enough for Shen Jiu.
They lay tangled together, mouths never parting. Luo Binghe's hands roamed over Shen Jiu's shoulders, down his back, gripping his hips through the robes. Shen Jiu's fingers traced the nape of his neck, light and unhurried, as though mapping something he already knew.
Luo Binghe broke away first.
He kissed Shen Jiu's chin, his jaw, the soft hollow beneath his ear. He kissed down the column of his throat, lingering where the pulse beat fast and steady against his lips.
How is this possible?
He was delirious. He was touching Shen Jiu.
His master was here, warm and real, his skin bare under Luo Binghe's mouth. Luo Binghe wanted to hold him there forever.
He came. Embarrassingly fast, untouched, overwhelmed by the weight of Shen Jiu beneath him and the taste of salt on his skin. His hips jerked against Shen Jiu's thigh, and the wet heat of it spread through his pants.
Shen Jiu stilled.
"Did you—"
"Ah..." Luo Binghe's ears burned. He was already hardening again, his body refusing to waste a single second of this. He pressed a kiss to Shen Jiu's collarbone, then another, trailing lower. "Don't mind me, Shizun. I'm not finished with you yet."
He kissed lower, nudging aside the fabric of Shen Jiu's robes. His mouth found a nipple, and Shen Jiu's breath broke into a sharp groan.
Luo Binghe lingered, tasting and teasing, while his other hand moved down Shen Jiu's chest, over the plane of his stomach, and along the outside of his thigh. He squeezed. Shen Jiu's legs parted for him.
Every movement of his master's body only made him want more.
His fingers trailed up the inside of Shen Jiu's thigh, feather-light, teasing.
"Shameless," Shen Jiu muttered. "Unfilial."
Luo Binghe laughed softly against his skin. His hand closed around Shen Jiu's cock.
Shen Jiu's hips twitched. His lips pressed together, holding back a sound.
Luo Binghe stroked him once, slow, thumb dragging over the slick head.
Then he pulled back, lifting himself up to take a good look.
Shizun.
Shizun.
Shen Jiu was flushed from his cheeks to his chest. Hair wild. Mouth red and swollen. His robes were disheveled, clinging to his shoulders and spread open beneath him, and he was wet—pre-cum darkening the pearlescent fabric.
Luo Binghe smiled helplessly as he took it all in.
Shen Jiu's glare was murderous. "What's so amusing?"
"Nothing."
Luo Binghe's grin widened.
Shen Jiu kicked him in the chest.
The sudden motion made Luo Binghe sit upright, but he caught Shen Jiu's ankle before it could withdraw. He bent his head and pressed a kiss to the arch of Shen Jiu's foot.
"I've been waiting for this for so long," he said, voice low. He kissed the delicate bones of his ankle. "We have a few days, Shizun. I'm going to make sure you enjoy every one of them."
Shen Jiu's breath hitched. His foot flexed in Luo Binghe's grip, but he didn't pull away.
Luo Binghe licked down, following the movement as his master sat up. Shen Jiu lifted the hem of his robes, pulling the fabric higher and higher until it revealed his hardened cock.
Beautiful, Luo Binghe thought. Just like the owner.
He settled between Shen Jiu's legs and took him into his mouth without delay.
Shen Jiu's head tipped back almost immediately. One hand tightened in Luo Binghe's hair, though whether to guide him or restrain him, Luo Binghe was unsure. He moved up and down. Slow at first, then faster, finding a rhythm from the way Shen Jiu's hips twitched.
He had never done this before. He had no technique, no experience, nothing but the shape of Shen Jiu in his mouth and the sounds Shen Jiu made when he did something right. But that was enough.
That was more than enough.
"Beast," Shen Jiu gasped. "You—ah—"
When Shen Jiu finally reached his limit, his hand fisted in Luo Binghe's hair and held him there. Luo Binghe obeyed, swallowing the reward with such greed and enthusiasm that Shen Jiu's expression twisted into irritation.
While catching his breath, he motioned for Luo Binghe to get up. When Luo Binghe did, Shen Jiu brought his face close, as if to kiss him again.
"Hm?"
Instead, Shen Jiu reached for the tie holding Luo Binghe's hair. The knot came loose, and dark strands spilled over Luo Binghe's shoulders as Shen Jiu pushed him back onto the blankets.
"Lie down."
"Yes, Shizun."
Shen Jiu turned toward the supplies and retrieved a small flask. He uncorked it, tested a drop between his fingers, then glanced down at Luo Binghe.
"Take off your pants."
Luo Binghe's hands flew to his waist. The stained linen came away, and his erection sprang free.
Shen Jiu glared at it.
"Befitting of a beast indeed," he sneered.
Luo Binghe's cock twitched. It visibly hardened under Shen Jiu's disdainful gaze.
"...You get off on being insulted?" Shen Jiu's eye twitched.
"Yes, Shizun," Luo Binghe said, honestly.
Shen Jiu's expression promised violence. He didn't follow through. With a small, dismissive movement, he shrugged off his robes completely and climbed onto Luo Binghe's chest.
Luo Binghe's mouth went dry.
Bare skin met his gaze. The pale line of Shen Jiu's throat, the narrow curve of his waist, the dark hair between his legs—Luo Binghe could hardly take any of it in. Shen Jiu was still half-hard, wet with Luo Binghe's saliva, and he was the most beautiful thing Luo Binghe had ever seen.
"Hand," Shen Jiu ordered.
Luo Binghe held out his palm. Shen Jiu tipped the flask, and cool oil pooled there.
"Touch yourself," he said. "Slowly."
Then he poured more oil into his own hand, reached behind himself, and—Luo Binghe couldn't see. He could only feel. Shen Jiu's weight settled over him, those perfect thighs spread wide, and the closeness of him hovering just above Luo Binghe's cock.
Luo Binghe's hand moved over himself, slow, like he'd been told. He stroked, spreading the oil, watching Shen Jiu's face as Shen Jiu pressed his fingers inside himself.
This is insane, Luo Binghe thought. I want him. I want him. I want him.
He was going to come. It was so unfair that Shen Jiu's entrance was so close to the head of his cock, glistening with oil.
Just when he was about to lose it, Shen Jiu pulled his hand free. He straightened and tucked his hair over one shoulder, baring the elegant line of his neck.
"Are you ready?" Shen Jiu asked.
Luo Binghe nodded immediately.
"Yes, Shizun. Please."
Shen Jiu positioned himself. One hand guided Luo Binghe's cock, slick and hard, to his entrance. The other braced against Luo Binghe's chest.
Then he pressed down.
Oh, fuck.
He would have lost control then and there if the tightness and Shen Jiu's careful movements had not forced him to remain still. He clenched his teeth and held on, just barely.
Shen Jiu sank down, slow. His brows drew together. His jaw was tight.
"Shit," he hissed. "Shit. You—" He shifted his hips. Winced. "—haa—"
They moved with painful patience. Every inch required care. Luo Binghe didn't dare speak, and he didn't dare move.
Shen Jiu took him, cursing and panting, his thighs trembling with the effort. And Luo Binghe let him set the pace.
"Your body is as troublesome as the rest of you," Shen Jiu complained.
At last, they managed it. Shen Jiu stilled, breathing hard, his nails clawing at Luo Binghe's chest.
Luo Binghe could cry. Being inside Shizun was hot and perfect, better than anything he could have imagined.
Tears were starting to form when Shen Jiu suddenly lifted himself up, pulling off. The drastic sensation was enough to shatter Luo Binghe's remaining control. He came immediately, helplessly, spilling out with a broken cry, his whole body jerking.
Shen Jiu sat back down on his chest, and exhaled.
Luo Binghe knew at once that his master had not yet had enough. Shen Jiu was flushed and exhausted, but he was still hard.
Careful not to jostle him, Luo Binghe eased Shen Jiu down beside him.
"Shizun," he murmured. "Let me."
Shen Jiu gave him a murderous look, but he did not refuse.
He settled between Shen Jiu's legs and took him into his mouth again, more confident now that he knew what he was doing.
It didn't take long this second time.
Afterward, they lay together on the blankets, breathing hard. The boat rocked gently beneath them.
Above, a single star had appeared above the darkening horizon. Evening had only just begun; the night still stretched long before them.
***
"Nnh... Binghe..."
Shen Jiu lay on his back, one leg held up in Luo Binghe's grip. Luo Binghe was already inside him, moving in and out with slow, measured thrusts, watching every flicker of expression on Shen Jiu's face.
After a brief rest, they had resumed their earlier pace. Luo Binghe settled for half in for now, letting Shen Jiu adjust before going any further. It was still enough to make his breath catch, and, little by little, Shen Jiu began to relax into it.
To this humble disciple, it was both a blessing and torture.
The boat continued forward, its steady movement rocking the blankets beneath them. Above, the sail caught the wind and drew them onward, its occasional snap and rustle mingling with the sound of skin against skin.
He still had no idea where they were going. Shen Jiu had set the course himself and told him he would know when they arrived.
Until then, Luo Binghe could only follow.
"Shizun, does it feel good?" he asked.
He knew perfectly well what he was doing, asking this while grinding into that sensitive spot inside.
"Don't get arrogant," Shen Jiu snapped. But even as he cursed, he moved his hips into it, as if to take control from his disciple and make it his own.
Luo Binghe accepted this wholeheartedly and leaned forward, taking Shen Jiu's lips hungrily.
Thank you, True Abyss, he thought, for the Deep Call. He rammed into Shen Jiu, deepening it, putting his whole pillar in him.
Shen Jiu yelped, his fingers clawing at Luo Binghe's back. The scratches broke the skin, but Luo Binghe only chuckled, holding him close as they continued.
The evening passed like this, stopping only when Shen Jiu was too spent to go on. Even then, Luo Binghe could have kept going, but he held back to let his master rest.
Shen Jiu eventually turned onto his side. Luo Binghe moved closer behind him and pressed a kiss to his back.
The sight nearly undid him again. Shen Jiu's skin was marked with hickeys, still soft and smooth under Luo Binghe's lips, and his ass was reddened from everything they had done. Luo Binghe's cock stirred.
He wanted to put it in again. Instead, he asked, "Shizun, may I touch myself?"
Shen Jiu's voice came without turning. "Just put it in," he said. "And leave it there."
He nudged his ass back against Luo Binghe's pillar.
Luo Binghe blinked, surprised by the permission. He gratefully obeyed, easing himself inside and coming almost immediately. He kept himself where his master had told him to stay.
He held Shen Jiu tighter, his cock settling deeper, and it was then that he realized Shen Jiu had fallen asleep in his arms.
Luo Binghe smiled faintly and held him tighter. The warmth of the blankets, the gentle rocking of the boat, and the weight of Shen Jiu's body against him gradually lulled him to sleep as well.
***
The next few days passed in a whirlwind of desire, interrupted only by sleep, food, and the occasional necessity of steering the boat away from a reef.
On the third day, they had become talkative.
"Shizun," Luo Binghe said, his voice suspiciously mild, "do you prefer long and slow—"
He demonstrated before finishing the question, drawing himself out and inserting himself again with maddening deliberation.
"—or short and fast?"
The contrast was so abrupt that Shen Jiu's fingers tightened against the edge of the padded bench he was bent over.
Over the course of their journey, the sea had changed color. Near their island, it had been a bright, shallow turquoise, so clear that one could count the stones on the seafloor. Now it had deepened to a rich, dark blue.
It was nearing sunset again, and the view was gorgeous: the sky smeared in shades of coral and gold, the water reflecting it all back.
Not as gorgeous as Luo Binghe's view, though. His eyes remained fixed on the curve of Shen Jiu's spine and the place where they were joined.
"Who do you think you are now?" Shen Jiu hissed, twisting his head to glare over his shoulder. His voice was rough, broken by the rhythm of Luo Binghe's movements. "I am your master."
Luo Binghe stilled inside him. Then, without withdrawing, he leaned forward, folding himself over Shen Jiu's back, and captured his mouth in a kiss.
"You're right," he murmured against his lips, pinching Shen Jiu's nipples. "I'm sorry, Shizun. This disciple is at your service."
He kissed him again, softer.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Cheeky brat," Shen Jiu said.
Then he bit down on Luo Binghe's tongue.
The effect was immediate. Luo Binghe made a sound—half gasp, half moan—and his hips jerked forward, driving deep. Shen Jiu's body clamped down around him, and they both released. Luo Binghe spilled into him as Shen Jiu himself shuddered and spilled against the wooden bench.
That sort of thing kept happening.
One morning, Luo Binghe woke to find Shen Jiu servicing him with his pretty mouth.
The whiplash of it—from his old life, from cold looks and colder words, from the endless, aching want of a disciple who had thought his master would never see him—was so extreme that he broke into a sob.
Shen Jiu brought his head up immediately and crawled over Luo Binghe's body. He cupped his face, thumbs brushing away the tears.
"Binghe," he said, his voice gentler than Luo Binghe had ever heard it. "You're truly a foolish boy."
He kissed the tears from Luo Binghe's cheeks, one by one. Then he positioned Luo Binghe's pillar at his entrance, hovering there, waiting.
"Do you need to stop?"
Luo Binghe shook his head frantically, a violent, desperate motion.
"No," he choked out. "No, Shizun, please, don't stop, I—"
He couldn't finish. He reached down and guided himself inside, pushing up into Shen Jiu's warmth. Shen Jiu let him enter with a soft, satisfied sigh.
By the end of the week, the urgency between them had mellowed into something softer. The frantic edge of their coupling had dulled into lazy mornings and quiet evenings. Sex had become cuddling, fishing for their meals, and talking through the long hours of sailing.
Shen Jiu would cast a line from the stern, and Luo Binghe would prepare whatever they caught.
The boat's cooking arrangement was simple: a squat clay pot set into a bed of heated stones, with a tight-fitting lid that trapped the steam. It wasn't much, but Luo Binghe had worked with less.
Tonight's prize was squid. Shen Jiu had speared it during a dive, emerging from the water with his hair plastered to his face and the creature dangling from his fingers, looking inordinately pleased with himself. Luo Binghe had taken it from him, trying not to stare at the water beading on Shen Jiu's collarbones.
They ate beneath the canopy as the last of the light drained from the sea.
The squid was good. Luo Binghe had seasoned it simply, with salt and a little of the dried spice they had left. Beyond the shelter, the waves came and went against the shore, their rhythm filling the spaces between them.
For a while, neither spoke.
Then Shen Jiu said, "I used to be an outsider too."
Luo Binghe looked up. "What?"
The words were so unexpected that he wondered if he had heard them incorrectly. His Shizun was the Order of the Eternal Tide's most holy Sea Priest. It had never occurred to Luo Binghe to wonder where he had come from.
"No one alive knows this... I was a slave." Shen Jiu picked up another piece of squid, turned it once, and put it into his mouth. "The Order took me in as one. As property. I climbed up from there."
The words settled heavily between them.
Luo Binghe slowly lowered his chopsticks.
"I'm glad," he said.
Shen Jiu raised a brow. "Glad?"
"I think…" Luo Binghe hesitated, searching for the right words. "I'm glad you survived. That you made it through all of that."
Shen Jiu said nothing.
"And I'm glad you told me. I'm glad you're here. With me."
Shen Jiu looked at him then, with an expression Luo Binghe couldn't read.
He ducked his head. "I'm happy," he finished, lamely.
Something flickered across Shen Jiu's face. In that moment, he looked almost young.
Then he reached across the space between them and smacked Luo Binghe on the head.
"Ow—"
"How do you expect to survive when everything is written all over your face?" Shen Jiu said flatly.
Luo Binghe rubbed his head, but he was smiling. "Only with Shizun."
"Hmph." Shen Jiu stood, gathering his bowl.
"Enough. I'm done eating." He bent down, one hand braced on Luo Binghe's shoulder, bringing his face close. His robes hung loose, and from this angle, Luo Binghe could see everything inside. "Clean up. Quickly. The faster you finish—"
The corner of his mouth lifted. His eyes traveled down Luo Binghe's body, then returned to his face.
"—the sooner we can continue."
Luo Binghe's chopsticks froze.
Shen Jiu turned and walked toward the shelter, not looking back.
***
The next morning, Luo Binghe woke to find Shen Jiu gone.
In his place, his disciple robes lay folded neatly on the bench. Luo Binghe stared at them solemnly before reaching for them.
He dressed in silence.
When he stepped out from beneath the shelter, the sea had disappeared into fog. The horizon was nowhere to be seen, and even the water below was little more than a shifting grey blur. The air had turned cold.
Luo Binghe looked toward the bow.
Shen Jiu was there.
He stood at the very front of the vessel, facing the sea, dressed in his usual Sea Priest robes. The Eternal Shell hung around his neck, resting against the layers of white and blue.
Luo Binghe sucked in a breath and and made his way toward him. He passed the mast and the benches, the wet boards creaking softly beneath his feet, until he reached the bow. He stopped just behind Shen Jiu and looked out into the fog. There was nothing to see.
"We're here," he said.
Shen Jiu didn't answer. He faced his disciple, and before Luo Binghe could read his expression, he reached up and wrapped his arms around Luo Binghe's neck, pulling him down into a kiss.
Luo Binghe stiffened in surprise.
He had not expected this.
They were wearing their uniforms—he'd assumed the formal distance between them would return the moment they'd dressed. He hadn't expected to be touched at all, let alone like this. Worse yet, dressed as they were, felt more erotic than bare skin.
The kiss was different from all the ones before, too. Tender. Yearning. Like it was actually—
No. He wouldn't think. He closed his eyes and let himself feel it: the cold air, the press of Shen Jiu against him, the slow movement of his lips. He wanted to stay here. Just a little longer.
After what felt like an eternity, Shen Jiu's arms loosened. His lips lingered a moment longer, then drew back, and Luo Binghe opened his eyes to find him watching, close enough that the fog blurred the edges of his face.
Shen Jiu lifted one hand to the Eternal Shell. He turned it in his palm, and there, at the center of its endless spiral, sat a black pearl.
Luo Binghe's chest tightened. Of course, he'd recognize that pearl. He had spent four years searching for it before finally finding it and returning it to Shen Jiu.
Now here it was again.
Shen Jiu took the pearl from the center of the shell, then turned and tossed it into the sea.
The pearl struck the water with a soft sound, barely a splash, swallowed instantly by the fog.
"Fetch it."
And once again, Luo Binghe dove without hesitation.
The cold closed over him at once.
Luo Binghe could see nothing around him, but he could still see the pearl—a faint, distant glimmer far below. He kicked hard, arms driving down, each stroke a motion he had performed a thousand times before.
He had found the pearl once. He could find it again.
The pearl tumbled as it sank, and Luo Binghe followed. Down, and further down. The last traces of light from above disappeared completely, until there was nothing left but the pearl and the blackness surrounding it.
This was deeper than he had ever gone. Deeper than any mortal should be able to go.
Pressure built behind his eyes, in his ears, in his ribs, each heartbeat a dull, heavy thud against his skull. This is the deepest sea, he realized. There would be no end to it.
He had to be quick.
He swam faster, pushing his body past what it could bear. His vision blurred. Warmth spread across his face, and when he blinked, thin red threads drifted away from his nose and ears into the water.
He ignored them.
There. The pearl glimmered, a pale star in the black.
His fingers brushed it once and missed. He reached again, and this time his hand closed around it.
He had it.
Relief came so suddenly that he almost laughed. His hand closed firmly around the pearl as he turned toward the surface, already preparing to swim back.
Then something moved.
Blacker than the water itself, indistinguishable from the darkness until it did. It coiled around his ankle. Luo Binghe kicked hard, trying to shake it off, but it held fast.
More of them came, winding around his other leg, his thighs. They climbed relentlessly up his body, coiling around his chest and arms, until one reached for the hand holding the pearl.
Luo Binghe pulled his arm up, away from it, reaching toward the surface. They took his other arm instead. Then his shoulders and throat.
Only his face and the hand holding the pearl remained uncovered.
He looked up.
Far above, the boat was a faint shape against what little light remained. Shen Jiu was there, a shadow leaning over the side.
Shizun! I'm here! I've got it!
He could not make a sound. His mouth opened, but only water rushed in.
His master's shadow seemed to look down.
Then he stepped back. He went back in the boat.
... Shizun?
For a moment, Luo Binghe simply stared.
The shock was enough to make him stop struggling. The coils tightened, completing their hold, until there was nothing left of him.
The last thing he saw was the boat leaving him behind.
He closed his eyes.
Shizun betrayed me.
I've fetched the pearl. I did what he asked.
He continued to sink, but the deepest sea had no bottom.
And Luo Binghe—
Luo Binghe was angry.
It came from somewhere he had never let himself look. A place buried beneath years of devotion, beneath every act of obedience, beneath every yes, Shizun and thank you, Shizun and everything for you, Shizun. A place where the boy who had washed up on that shore still lived, still clawed at the rocks, still fought to breathe.
The coils pulled, and it was not just his body they tore at. His memories. His feelings. His very self, unraveling like thread from a spool.
The Abyss was hungry. It had been hungry for a long, long time.
No.
The word was small at first. A spark in the darkness.
No.
He thought of Shen Jiu's lips against his. The first kiss, hesitant and almost perfunctory, followed by the bite. "This master orders you to stop pretending."
He thought of Shen Jiu's hands in his hair. The way his breath had hitched when Luo Binghe kissed his ankle. The way he had said "Binghe" in the dark.
He thought of Shen Jiu's heartbeat against his own, that night in the storm. The way they had both gone still, neither of them knowing what to do.
I've fetched the pearl. I did what he asked.
So I must return to him now.
The Abyss tried to drown him.
Luo Binghe laughed.
There was no air left for sound, but the feeling of it shook through him anyway—a silent, terrible thing that trembled through the water.
You think you can take me?
You think you can have me?
The Abyss shuddered.
You are the sea. The sea is cruel. The sea is beautiful. I have known both my entire life.
And I have known him.
His hand—the one holding the pearl—clenched.
I have known the weight of him in my arms. The taste of him on my tongue. The sound he makes when he forgets to hate me.
I have known Shen Jiu.
The darkness around him began to change. A warmth in the cold. A pulse, like a heartbeat. The coils loosened, just slightly, as if confused.
You think you can make me part of you?
I have always been an outsider.
I am not part of anything.
I am not anyone's.
I belong to him.
And he belongs to me.
The sea screamed. The darkness recoiled, and for the first time since he had entered the water, Luo Binghe could see.
He saw the Abyss.
He saw what it truly was—not a god, but a hunger. An endless hunger that had existed since before the world began.
"The Sea saw the world begin. And the Sea knows how the world will end."
Luo Binghe's lips curved. He was still holding the pearl. He was still sinking. But the coils were gone.
"The Sea does not forgive."
The Abyss pressed down on him, trying to crush him, to consume him, to dissolve him into the endless black.
And Luo Binghe let it.
Not because he was giving up. Because he was inviting it.
Come, then.
I am not afraid.
There was only one thing he feared: that Shen Jiu might look at him one day and see nothing worth keeping.
"The Sea loves. The Sea loves. The Sea loves."
The blackness folded inward.
The coils became waves.
The waves became breath.
The breath became blood.
And the blood became his.
The Abyss poured into him, carrying its hunger, its cold, its terrible vastness. It met the anger already burning inside him—the desperate want that had lived in his chest since the day he had washed up on that shore.
The many became one.
Luo Binghe opened his eyes.
He was no longer beneath the sea.
He was the sea.
He could feel every current. Every tide. Every drop of water. Every creature that swam in it, from the smallest plankton to the oldest whales. He could feel the ships on the surface, the storms brewing in the distance, the tides that pulled at the moon.
He could feel the island. The Order of the Eternal Tide. The temple, the coral gardens, the fishing boats. The warm stone paths and the woven kelp roofs.
He could feel Shen Jiu.
Ah.
Luo Binghe smiled.
It was not a kind smile.
Nor was it gentle.
It was the smile of a boy who had finally found the end of the deepest sea. And had decided the end was not enough.
"Shizun."
The sea answered.
"Wait for me."
Five years after the Deep Call, the Order of the Eternal Tide still spoke of that day in hushed, reverent tones.
The sea had changed overnight. The waters around the island ran clear enough to see the coral beds fathoms below, and the old fishing grounds—dead for generations—had filled with silver scales and swarming life. Boats returned so heavy with catch that the docks had been expanded twice. Even the storms that once battered the coast now broke harmlessly offshore.
The elders declared that the Sea had accepted their offering. The Order would know another hundred years of peace and abundance.
Shen Jiu, naturally, had been given a hero's welcome when he returned from the Deep Call alone. The elders had wept. The disciples had knelt. And five years later, he was their Voice of the Sea.
Ning Yingying, now a senior disciple, stood before a group of fresh-faced juniors in the temple's outer courtyard, the sea wind tugging at her robes.
"The Voice of the Sea's affinity with the sea was always strong," she said, pacing slowly. "But after the Deep Call, it became something else entirely. Sea lavender sprouts wherever he walks. The tides shift to match his mood. They say if you speak ill of him near the shore, the waves will rise and drag you under."
The youngest disciple raised his hand.
"If the Deep Call is good, why was it forbidden?"
Ning Yingying smiled.
"Because Shizun forbade it."
The answer was so obvious that several of the children stared at her.
She chuckled. "He proclaimed it himself at the last ceremony. The Sea had given all it needed to give, he said. There would be no more offerings. No more children sent into the deep."
A murmur passed through the group. Some of the children looked relieved. Others looked bewildered.
Ning Yingying glanced toward the inner temple, where the Voice of the Sea's chambers stood empty. He was rarely there anymore.
"Besides," she added, "if Shizun says the Sea has spoken, who are we to argue?"
That settled the matter.
The Order had changed in the five years since the Deep Call.
Not in any way that could be easily named. The temple remained standing, and the ceremonies went on as they always had. Fishermen went out at dawn. Children played along the shore. The annual festivals continued, lasting as long as they always did.
But Shen Jiu had become more withdrawn.
He stopped attending the feasts. Processions were left to others whenever he could manage it. When his presence was required, he came, spoke what needed to be said, and left as soon as he was free to do so.
He had moved out of the temple entirely.
Some months after the Deep Call, he had built himself a house at the edge of the western cliffs.
It was a strange structure, half house and half cave, carved directly into the rock where the island met the water. The upper rooms remained dry and open to the wind; the lower chambers filled with seawater when the tide came in. At high tide, the entrance disappeared beneath the waves. At low tide, it could be reached by a narrow path between the rocks.
He had built it himself.
No one had been permitted to help.
Ning Yingying had seen him there many times.
Sitting at the mouth of the cave.
Watching the horizon.
He had not become kinder with age. If anything, his patience had grown shorter. He was still perfectly capable of reducing a disciple to tears with a single glance, and he still had no hesitation about making an example of anyone foolish enough to challenge his authority.
But there was something else now.
A stillness that had not been there before.
"Some say he's waiting for something," Ning Yingying told the disciples, her voice dropping.
"Others say he's grieving."
She looked toward the western cliffs, where the Voice of the Sea's house caught the last light of the setting sun.
"But I don't think it's either."
The children waited.
Ning Yingying smiled faintly.
"I think he's listening."
***
The tide had already swallowed the entrance when Shen Jiu woke to something cold brushing his cheek.
He opened his eyes to the dim, wavering blue of the flooded chamber.
For one disorienting moment, all he could make out was a dark shape leaning over him, long hair spilling forward, a face hidden in shadow. His hand moved on instinct, reaching for a weapon that wasn't there.
The figure bent down and kissed his cheek again.
Shen Jiu stared at him.
"...Binghe?"
The man drew back, smiling.
It was an unfamiliar smile, or rather, a familiar one worn by a more mature face. Shadows shifted across him as he straightened, revealing Luo Binghe as he truly was: taller now, broad through the shoulders and chest, dark hair falling in wet waves past his shoulders. His features had sharpened with age, but his eyes remained unchanged—dark, bright, and far too innocent for the thoughts behind them.
He was also, Shen Jiu had to admit, absurdly good-looking.
"How did you know?" Luo Binghe asked, tilting his head.
Shen Jiu let out a slow breath. "Who else would dare what you do?"
Luo Binghe laughed, unabashed. He reached for Shen Jiu's hand and gently turning it over in his grasp.
"Open your palm."
Shen Jiu raised a brow, but did. Something small and cool dropped into his hand.
The black pearl.
"I'm sorry it took so long to return this, Shizun."
"Five years," Shen Jiu said quietly. "A year longer than the first one."
"Aiya. The next one will definitely be the fastest!" There was an eager confidence in his voice that made Shen Jiu's mouth twitch.
His gaze traveled over Luo Binghe again, slower this time.
Luo Binghe noticed.
"Do you like what you see?"
Shen Jiu's eyes flicked back to his face. "Not bad."
"Only not bad?"
"You've become rather vain." Shen Jiu paused. "So how did you—"
Luo Binghe's expression softened.
"I figured it out eventually. How to manifest one." He glanced down at himself. "It took a while."
Shen Jiu hummed.
Luo Binghe laughed under his breath. "Shizun."
"What?"
"You really are looking. Are you that surprised?"
Shen Jiu gave a light scoff, closing his fingers around the pearl. "That you became the Sea? How can I be? You tried to have sex with me while you were the water. The day after I returned, no less."
"You had left me to become a sacrifice!"
Shen Jiu stepped closer. "And? Do you resent me for that?"
"Never," came the instant reply.
Luo Binghe pulled him into his arms, holding him tight against his chest. "I've missed you," he murmured. "It doesn't feel the same when I'm the Sea."
His hands settled at Shen Jiu's waist, then drifted lower, lower, until he had the full plumpness of Shen Jiu's ass in his hands.
Shen Jiu pushed at his chest, but Luo Binghe only caught his hands and brought them to his lips. He kissed one palm, then the other, his tongue slipping between Shen Jiu's fingers.
The gesture was so shameless that Shen Jiu's annoyance lost its footing. His hands rose instead, cupping Luo Binghe's face, and he kissed him.
Luo Binghe made a pleased sound against his mouth. As the kiss deepened, he lifted Shen Jiu effortlessly and seated him on the smooth stone table. The movement pressed their hardness together, leaving no doubt about what either of them wanted.
The water stirred around their legs.
Tendrils rose from the surface, slick and gleaming, winding through the air like living things. They slid up beneath Shen Jiu's robes, moving with Luo Binghe's attention.
"I've gotten better at this, Shizun," Luo Binghe whispered against his lips. "I promise this time will be better."
"Fuck. Not these again, Binghe." Shen Jiu shuddered, overwhelmed from being touched in so many places at once. The tendrils did their work, sucking at his skin, his throat, his nipples, drawing soft sounds from him despite his best efforts.
Luo Binghe kissed Shen Jiu's collarbone, his hands mapping the planes of his chest.
"Did I make you wait too long?" he murmured. "Did you miss me?"
Shen Jiu's head fell back against the stone, a moan escaping him before he could swallow it. "No. You're here all the time."
Luo Binghe chuckled. "That's right. And I'm never leaving you." He positioned himself before Shen Jiu's entrance, his expression turning smug. "You can try to escape, Shizun. But all the world's waters are me."
Shen Jiu stared at him for a moment, then abruptly caught him by the front of his robes and shoved.
Luo Binghe, caught off guard, stumbled backward into the water. He landed on his back with a splash, the tide cushioning his fall, and Shen Jiu was on top of him before he could recover, knees on either side of his hips, hair falling loose around his face.
"Who says I'm running?"
Luo Binghe looked up at him, delighted.
Shen Jiu leaned closer. "If I wanted to leave, you'd simply take me. So what's the point of a threat?"
Luo Binghe stared, pupils blown wide.
"Shizun," he said, and his voice had gone rough, "I'm extremely turned on right now."
Shen Jiu's expression remained unimpressed.
Luo Binghe's smile turned wicked. "How large do you want me? I can make it anything."
Shen Jiu slapped him across the face.
"You should know what I like by now."
Luo Binghe laughed, then placed his hands on Shen Jiu's hips. "I do."
He brought Shen Jiu up, and down, inserting himself and growing inside of him, making his master yelp. The Sea responded at once, wrapping tentacles around Shen Jiu's cock, slick and tight, while Luo Binghe thrust into him.
"Ha... haa..."
Shen Jiu bounced on Luo Binghe's cock like he was made for it. Luo Binghe sat up, and harshly bit his chest.
"What would the Order say," he breathed, "if they saw their untouchable ruler like this?"
Shen Jiu's nails dug into his shoulders. "The same thing they'd say if they found out their god is a perverted beast."
They both laughed, breathless and tangled. The laughter faded slowly, dissolving into the quiet lapping of the water, into the rhythm of their breathing. The tendrils withdrew, dissolving into the tide until only the faint sheen of seawater remained on Shen Jiu's skin.
Luo Binghe pushed in deeper once more, keeping Shen Jiu in place, before planting a tender kiss on his lips. The same as their first one.
They came together like that, gentle as the water that lapped at their waists. The chamber was quiet except for their breathing.
"Be one with me, Shizun," Luo Binghe whispered into his mouth.
Shen Jiu smiled.
It was still a strange feeling, this happiness. He had never quite learned what to do with it. It came too easily now, in moments like this, and he still found himself suspicious of it.
"I would. But not right now."
He touched Luo Binghe's cheek, thumb brushing the line of his jaw.
"I've found this life acceptable. What I have here."
Luo Binghe pouted, but his arms stayed loose, accepting. "One day, then?"
Shen Jiu studied him. "Why? Aren't you content?"
Luo Binghe glanced down.
He could feel Shen Jiu's warmth against him, inside and out. It was a simple thing, almost embarrassingly so, but it settled him in a way nothing else could.
He hugged Shen Jiu again, resting his chin against his shoulder.
"I am now."
Shen Jiu's eyes narrowed faintly. He rolled his hips deliberately, and Luo Binghe's breath hitched.
"Then stop talking, and show me how much better you've gotten."
Luo Binghe kissed him with a grin, and the water rose around them.
***
Many, many years later, the story spread across the island: the legendary Voice of the Sea, Shen Jiu, had vanished. All they found was an Eternal Shell resting in the shallows outside his house.
It was larger than any shell they had seen before, its surface pale as moonlight. At its center lay a black pearl.
The Order kept it, of course. They placed it in the temple, beneath the new statue of the Sea, and waited for a sign.
None came.
But from that day onward, whenever an Eternal Shell washed ashore, it was accompanied by a black pearl.