Chapter Text
When Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, renown author of the cult classic, “Proud Immoral Demon Way”, had literally transmigrated and crash landed mentally into the small, baby brain of Shang Qinghua, he had no idea just how utterly twisted his story was going to be. Though he had grown out of his fleshy baby phase and had become a proud (speaking lightly) leader of An Ding Peak, he had not let go of the utter saltiness he felt over being transmigrated into common cannon fodder. Still, survival was survival, and he felt as though he had done well, living past his expiration date.
However, just because something was expired didn’t mean they weren’t perishable at a later date, he reminded himself.
It had been over a year since Mobei Jun, his king, had urged him to formally resign at An Ding Peak. He had been hesitant at first, but in fear of being beaten up again (or even have Mobei Jun constantly laying in his bed, staring at him while he worked), Shang Qinghua complied. It only took a single portal and what seemed to be an army of lesser demons before all his things had been moved from his room to his not-so-cozy new home in the Ice Palace.
Living in the Ice Palace wasn’t as miserable as he thought it would be. Though Mobei Jun had kept Shang Qinghua by his side as often as he could, Shang Qinghua still had his own freedom. He was told not to leave the premise, if possible, and who was Shang Qinghua to disagree? He didn’t want to find himself skewered on a stick, roasting away somewhere, because a demon didn’t realize he had eaten Mobei Jun’s sandbag-turned-personal-servant-turned... whatever he was. Still, he would have preferred being alive and not roasted alive. Mobei Jun’s protectiveness made Shang Qinghua wonder if he was just particularly delicious to the other demons, as he had often seen the servants and guards glancing at him, hiding grins. Perhaps he just emitted delicious, roast worthy smells? Hopefully not.
Mobei Jun’s protectiveness did not end there, he had given Shang Qinghua his own servants and attendants so that when Mobei Jun left on errands and hunts, Shang Qinghua would be properly served. Even the king’s personal sandbag deserved some proper respect at the Ice Palace, luckily for him.
There were times when Mobei Jun would arrive back to the palace, exhaustion obvious on his pale face. He would enter the room, a cold aura emitting from his tall, dark—yet still handsome—form. However, Shang Qinghua would never feel any of the cold slowly crawl its way into his core when the demon lord approaches him. Shang Qinghua argued to himself that Mobei Jun probably understood that Shang Qinghua would literally die if he froze the room any further.
Sometimes, Mobei Jun would arrive at the palace and hand him small earthly or demon world trinkets, a new set of robes, or even a blanket from the fur of whatever creature he ended up hunting. Shang Qinghua, too afraid of opening his big stupid mouth and ending up with a beating, would comply and accept them willingly. Thus, Shang Qinghua ended up with three— three! —different bedrooms, filled with different trinkets, pelts, and gifts from the far-too-handsome Mobei Jun.
This went on for months, and every time Shang Qinghua received a new gift or ended up sitting in Mobei Jun’s gardens, gnawing at whatever poor excuse of human food he was served, he could have sworn he saw his attendant for the day smirking or sighing dreamily at him. How rude! If they had time to make fun of him, why couldn’t they make better human food? Mobei Jun was no Luo Binghe in the ways of the kitchen (not that he cooked the meal), Shang Qinghua mentally argued, but Mobei Jun was not lacking in anything while compared to Luo Binghe.
Mobei Jun was a perfect man, a perfect demon, and even if he was a little rough around the edges, he was still a wonderfully handsome and well-rounded ruler of the Ice Palace. He deserved the title of being Luo Binghe’s trusted right hand man, and even more than that, Shang Qinghua would argue. Shang Qinghua respected him and admired him greatly. After all, who was the one who gave Mobei Jun that wonderful status and face? This one, of course.
It was one of those nights again, when Mobei Jun would return from his errands on Luo Binghe’s behalf. Luckily, he wasn’t as worn out as he usually was despite the fact that Mobei Jun had been gone for a full week, which was longer than usual. Shang Qinghua had missed him, but could not voice it as Mobei Jun only sent an attendant to summon for him.
This night had been different, it seemed, as Mobei Jun had ordered Shang Qinghua to meet him at the main hall, where his throne sat. Complying, Shang Qinghua quickly tossed aside whatever letter he had been working on for Shen Qingqiu, and made his way to the hall, where he was met with dozens of servants standing on the sides or bustling about, trying to set proper decorations in place.
He looked around the room, eyes going blurry from the lanterns, ribbons, and various decorations that hung about the room. There were demonly flowers placed in flower pots and various foods sitting on a large table. Ignoring all those, Shang Qinghua approached Mobei Jun, who was easily spotted amongst the decorations and lesser servants, as he held a powerful presence and wonderfully sculpted thighs for Shang Qinghua to stick to, if he had done something bad.
Not that he was thinking about Mobei Jun’s thighs, of course.
“My King… Is there a celebration being held?” He asked curiously with a glance around the room. “My lord should have informed me. This one has worked for years at An Ding Peak, a little celebration is not too difficult to help out on.” He could have done the paperwork or helped decide what decoration went where, or anything equally as menial.
“No need.” Came Mobei Jun’s ever so simple response. “Just enjoy.”
Shang Qinghua’s mouth formed an o-shape as he nodded dumbly in response. He could just enjoy the ceremony, but why ever was there a ceremony going on in the middle of the year anyway? He thought long and hard about it, wondering if he had forgotten some kind of demonic holiday amidst the foggy memories of his original script. When none came to mind, he just assumed Mobei Jun had had a great hunt and wanted to celebrate.
“My King sure knows how to throw extravagant celebrations,” Shang Qinghua pointed out. Funny, it didn’t seem like there were any other people in the room important enough to point out, aside from Mobei Jun himself. Perhaps it really was a private party, or perhaps Mobei Jun was too tired of other scheming demon officials to warrant an invite for them.
“Then it is to your liking,” Mobei Jun stated as if it were a fact.
Shang Qinghua took this opportunity to lavish his king with much needed praise. “Of course! What isn’t there to like? There’s plenty of food on the table and the hall looks brighter than usual. Dare I say it, I like it greatly.”
He could have sworn Mobei Jun almost smiled. He could see the corner of the man’s lips curl a little, a puff of cold, mist-like air escaping his nostrils as if he had just huffed out a hidden laugh. It almost made him want to smile back, but he decided against it, in case it came off as rude.
Dinner was essentially a free for all for Shang Qinghua. Having no other guests aside from Mobei Jun himself, Shang Qinghua was given permission to eat anything and everything if he so wished. Deciding not to argue against his lordship’s generosity, Shang Qinghua ate his fill until he felt as though his stomach would burst. The food did taste exceptionally better than usual, as if Luo Binghe himself had cooked it for him. However, Shang Qinghua quickly diminished that idea, as no one else in the world would taste his stallion protagonist’s food aside from Shen Qingqiu himself.
And of course, there was no possible way that Mobei Jun would take the time and effort to cook dinner. Shang Qinghua recalled the time he had asked for a simple bowl of noodles, though he didn’t remember how they tasted; if he hadn’t died, it probably meant it had tasted good enough.
After dinner, a food coma induced Shang Qinghua yawned and wondered if it would have been alright to head to bed, but it seemed as though Mobei Jun had not finished with his plans yet. The next thing he knew, he had a new fur trimmed robe draped over his shoulders and a nice jade pendant pressed onto his palm. Both items looked to be brand new and handcrafted, to the point where Shang Qinghua could thumb over the etchings of his own name on the back of the pendant, which hung on a brilliantly beautiful blue tassel.
“My king… what is this?” He inquired, wondering if it was yet another set of trinkets that Mobei Jun had bestowed upon him yet again. He had figured that Mobei Jun was kind of like a pet cat who would occasionally bring in gifts and toys for people he somewhat liked, so that they would not grow too bored being trapped in an icy palace for the rest of eternity.
There was a long silence between them before Mobei Jun had spoken. “Did you enjoy the celebration tonight?”
That had struck Shang Qinghua as odd, but he nodded. “Yes, I did.”
“...Then, does Shang Qinghua wish to have further celebrations in the future?” Mobei Jun inquired, his eyebrow raising.
“Of course, my king.”
“And does Shang Qinghua wish to stay by his king’s side, as he had stated before?”
Shang Qinghua had no idea where this roundabout conversation was heading to, but agreed to save his own butt from anything unkind later. “Yes, my king. I wish to stay by your side, forever or until you grow sick and tired of me. If my king decides to throw celebrations for this pitiful one here, then he will willingly accept.”
Mobei Jun seemed pleased with that and reached over with one hand towards Shang Qinghua’s face. Shang Qinghua almost shrunk back, thinking his king was really going to kill him this time. However, he was met with a cold palm to his face, his thumb rubbing close to the corner of his lips in a gentle manner.
Shang Qinghua figured he had some leftover food scraps on his face. Talk about embarrassing.
“...So you accept....” Mobei Jun said, voice low in a rumble, looking pleased with himself. To be honest, Shang Qinghua felt as though he had dozed off halfway through the conversation, so he decided to continue agreeing if it meant he could head to bed soon.
“Yes, this one agrees to everything his king wishes. Be it a celebration or to stay at the Ice Palace forever. Everything.”
And for dramatic effect, Shang Qinghua decided to add onto his sentence a moment later. “Everything that this one has here is for you, my king.”
He had heard that in a cheesy Chinese drama before his untimely death from noodle and it had come spilling out of his mouth before he could catch it. Oh well, it seemed to fit the mood.
Whatever he had done, he felt as though the room went colder than usual but the air held no malice. He shivered, wondering if, in his sleep filled haze, he had uttered something absolutely horrible to his king. Maybe he was being too dramatic and it had made Mobei Jun uncomfortable. He didn’t know, but he didn’t want to stay to find out.
“If my king does not mind… this pitiful servant would like to head to the bed chambers.” He said, bowing politely at Mobei Jun.
Mobei Jun went silent for a couple long seconds, to the point where Shang Qinghua almost thought he hadn’t even asked a question verbally and they had just been standing there in awkward silence.
“You… wish to head to the bed chambers…” Mobei Jun repeated, sounding hesitant.
Shang Qinghua stifled a yawn, but rubbed his sleepy eyes. “Yes, my king, I would very much enjoy walking back to the bed chambers.” He repeated once more.
If he had been any more attentive, Shang Qinghua would have heard the gasps and light giggles from the servants around them. But sadly, he was not a very attentive person.
Again, Mobei Jun took his time to respond. Shang Qinghua would have fallen asleep standing up if they had waited any longer. He felt as though he had been missing some sort of social cue, as he felt Mobei Jun’s icy blue eyes glancing at him once over.
Finally, Mobei Jun spoke. “...Very well. Come.” Mobei Jun had placed a hand on Shang Qinghua before he felt himself being pulled through the shadows. He felt his dinner lurching in his stomach and he briefly questioned why they couldn’t have just walked over.
When the world had stopped moving, Shang Qinghua was left with confusion yet again. This wasn’t his room, this was his king’s room. Why were they here?
“My lord… is there something you’ve mistaken?” He blurted out before throwing a hand over his mouth. He panicked a little, knowing it was completely wrong of him to just assume Mobei Jun was wrong. Maybe if he started thigh hugging now, he could get away with a couple hours of sleep...
However, Mobei Jun did not raise his fist or even attempt to hurt him. It had been a while since Mobei Jun had done such a thing, but Shang Qinghua could never be too careful around demons. One look at Mobei Jun’s face and Shang Qinghua could tell that his king had a look of confusion. His eyebrows knitted together into a scowl as his icy blue eyes glared deep into Shang Qinghua’s dark eyes. “You requested that we head to the bed chambers. We are now in the bed chambers.”
Yes, but the issue is that we’re at your bed chambers! Shang Qinghua desperately wanted to blurt out, but used most of his restraint not to. He was desperately sleepy and wanted nothing more than to curl up under his multiple expensive sheets and various beast pelts on his bed and call it a day.
“...then does my king need to be undressed before bed?” Shang Qinghua suggested, yawning again. He really didn’t understand what Mobei Jun could have wanted. Did he have to play servant and help undress his king for bed? At the end of the day, was he nothing more than just a lackey for this overpowered demon lord?
There was a sigh which escaped Mobei Jun’s lips before he finally spoke.
“I will help you first.” Mobei Jun didn’t wait for a response before Shang Qinghua felt his new robe being discarded along with his outer robes, before he was left with his thin inner robes and shivering for dear life. With a touch of his hand on Shang Qinghua’s shoulder, he felt himself going from shivering to normal again. He wasn’t warm, but he wasn’t cold either.
“Come.” Mobei Jun grabbed Shang Qinghua by the wrist and pulled him onto the large, extravagant bed. He threw Shang Qinghua under the sleek silk sheets and promptly tossed the blankets over the small human until Shang Qinghua had become basically a human burrito. He even threw the new robe that was a gift for Shang Qinghua over the bundle of soft, stupid human.
Shang Qinghua was at a literal loss for words. Despite his brain begging him to sleep, he couldn’t help but feel extraordinarily confused and conflicted. He didn’t understand why, of all places, Mobei Jun wanted him to sleep in the king’s bed. Where was he going to sleep then—
His thoughts quickly left him when he felt the bed shift next to him, accommodating another person’s weight. That person could only be Mobei Jun, of course. This was when Shang Qinghua’s brain started to overload, much like his old computer did when he downloaded one too many papapa explicit files.
Why was he sleeping in bed with Mobei Jun? And why did Mobei Jun tuck him in bed so gently? Shang Qinghua wracked his brain for a response, and the only logical conclusion he could muster was that Mobei Jun just wanted some company for once. Maybe he was tired of servants with low IQ and Shang Qinghua was the only person he could really speak to in the palace.
That made enough sense for him and he quickly fell to sleep on the comfortable, yet cool to the touch, bed.
Little did he know, his arms wrapped around his king’s body for the rest of the night, and his king obliged.