Chapter Text
The man was collapsed in the center of the circle, his broad body sprawled across the floor. His inky black hair hung over his face and obscured most of his expression, contracting menacingly with his pale, almost grey skin. His face from what once could tell was traditionally handsome, which entailed chiseled and symmetrical features, though it was partially obscured under the dim lighting of the room.
The thing about his face that stuck out the most – and intimidated Shang Qinghua the most – was the bright eyes that seemed to glow, by themselves highlighting the fact that he seemed pissed.
Face aside, his body definitely didn’t show invigoration or health. The way he was collapsed onto the floor, labored breaths and tremors being the only signs of life he had, was certainly quite concerning.
The man wore light and low cut ancient style robes, which were made of dark blue silk that seemed to scream wealth and quality, if the intricate embroideries of pure gold thread were anything to go by, and were loose enough to hide most of his wide frame.
Shang Qinghua froze. He was shell-shocked at the sight, at the fact it had fucking worked. What did this mean? Shit, wait, did he have to deal with it??? Are demons well-behaved? Does it know how it got summoned?
Did he really just summon a literal demon in his apartment?
The demon even looked oddly familiar, though he couldn’t place his finger on how he knew.
But he had to deal with this somehow.
Shang Qinghua fixated a glance onto the figure, bending down to squat down by it. The man’s eyes flickered to meet his, narrowing. They were, however, weak as the rest of his body clearly was and his eyelashes shook. His gaze was still piercing and brought with it a cold and menacing aura that made Shang Qinghua resist the urge to back away.
He bit his tongue to avoid letting out a slightly involuntary nervous giggle, and gently tapped the man’s motionless shoulder, afraid to bother him any more, for fear he would tear him apart, not even bothering to bury his remains.
“Erm – Uh… Mr. Demon.. Lord Demon?... Are you alright?” Shang Qinghua babbled nervously, being choosy with his words and hoping not to anger the already-affronted looking demon more than necessary.
The words were not followed with a response or acknowledgement from the latter, rather the only sound being made still was the labored breathing slowing down.
Shang Qinghua felt a little bit of hope bloom in his chest. Perhaps the demon had relaxed a little? He plastered on a nervous but hopefully sincere looking smile onto his face and peered over the demon’s face only to find that his eyes had fallen shut, and he had passed out.
The man, unfortunately, still did not look calmer in the slightest, his eyebrows slightly furrowed as they were faintly illuminated by the dingy light.
Shang Qinghua opened his mouth to continue, to say something and perhaps earn a reply from the cold man, but as he began to speak, the man blinked a few times, and his eyes fluttered shut.
Heavy eyelashes acted like a shield to his closed eyes, and it seemed the little strength he had before had dissipated. He had just passed out.
Shang Qinghua stopped abruptly, eyes widening again. He quickly placed a hand on the demon’s chest, checking to make sure he was okay. The skin was unnaturally cool and sturdy, but there was a slow, steady heartbeat coming from the demon. At least he was still alive.
Shit, did the demon just pass out on me?...
He couldn’t say he was totally surprised, what with the battered state the man seemed to arrive in, his strained breathing and weak body saying much more than words could.
Shang Qinghua’s face tensed, brows knitting together in thought. What would he do now?
Well, first of all, he probably had to get this huge demon out of his living room.
Huffing out a breath, he half-picked up, half-dragged the demon to his bedroom, the weight slowing him down considerably.
After about 10 minutes of dragging and adjusting, the man was in his bed, out cold. No matter how many times Shang Qinghua had accidentally dropped him, the man was almost lifeless and showed no sign of waking up, save for the steady heartbeat that never faltered.
The room was dark, the only light being moonlight filtering in from the window, illuminating the pale, grey-undertoned skin the man bore. Shang Qinghua may not have been in his right mind, but the demon’s skin almost seemed to shimmer under the moon’s glow.
Shang Qinghua sat on the edge of the bed, peering over the strange man. He let out a low groan.
Now it was just him, his thoughts, and an unconscious man in his bed.