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Meng Yao felt absolutely disgusted with himself, but he had no other choice. In order to earn his place in Wen Ruohan's good graces, to gain said man's trust, he had to go through with this.
Closing his eyes, he drew in a shaky breath, trying to will away the tears that threatened to spill forth.
It wounded him deeply to have to do this. All he could think about was Zewu-jun. The man he'd given himself wholeheartedly to, the man he'd vowed to protect by joining the Qishan Wen Sect, the man he wanted to aid in whatever way he could. He hoped for the Sunshot Campaign's success so all the other sects could seek the revenge they so rightfully deserved.
And therein laid the problem, the struggle, the inner turmoil that Meng Yao was currently facing. In getting closer to Sect Leader Wen, he very much felt like he was betraying Zewu-jun instead. How could he possibly offer himself, offer up his body to the ruthless man who'd ordered the burning of Cloud Recesses? Who was responsible for the death of Zewu-jun's father and Hanguang-jun's leg injury?
But… at the same time, it's not like he could refuse. Wen Ruohan didn't merely ask this of him. He ordered it. Demanded it. And demands were meant to be followed.
As he took one last look in the mirror, he saw that his appearance was very pleasing to the eye. The way those robes accentuated his lithe figure, the way their onyx and crimson hues complemented his lovely porcelain face and vice versa.
Meng Yao closed his eyes once again; he had no desire to keep looking upon his reflection. That bastard just had to take it one step further, humiliate him as if turning him into his pet hadn't been enough. Wen Ruohan demanded he wear red, dress himself in a Qishan Wen Sect uniform.
He was one of them now.
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Every time Wen Ruohan laid claim to him, Meng Yao allowed his thoughts to wander to Zewu-jun. Oh how he missed his gentle touch, his soothing words, the way he'd worshipped his body with sweet kisses. It was nothing like the roughness and brutality that the Wen sect leader granted upon his body.
How he hated it.
How he abhorred it.
But he would have to bear with it, just a little while longer. At least that's what he always told himself anyway.
----
Days turned into weeks turned into months. Meng Yao had worked his way up to become Wen Ruohan's right hand man at last. He'd earned himself more privileges than most. That included access to the sect leader's treasure room and the ability to send letters. Things he made sure to keep privy from the ruthless sect leader, though Meng Yao still considered them advantages nonetheless. Of course, he had to encode his writings as he wasn't about to compromise the whole operation. And finally, -- finally -- he would have contact with the man he'd been thinking about the whole time. The man who kept him motivated day after day to stay resilient, to keep fishing for intel, to help them bring down the Qishan Wen Sect for good.
Once this was all over, Meng Yao would see the light at the end of the tunnel. He would be glad to dispose of these filthy , ruby robes tarnishing his body, his soul. And he would be reunited with Zewu-jun at long last.