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Shen Qingqiu didn’t exactly know what he was doing.

As Shen Yuan he’d never had a serious relationship. It was pathetic and a little bit annoying, but all together to be expected. There were excuses—he’d never had enough time to meet someone, he was waiting for the right person to just stumble into his life, he hadn’t forced himself to come to terms with the fact that maybe he didn’t actually like girls—there were a lot of excuses.

Although, even if he’d had a girlfriend is his life before this (or, he supposed, a boyfriend), Shen Qingqiu doubted that anything back in that world would have been able to prepare him for dating Luo Binghe.

He didn’t even know if dating was the right word. They were living together, but that wasn’t much of a step for them since they’d lived together before. They were doing the sort of things that Shen Qingqiu imagined couples did. Though, of course and hence the problem, Shen Qingqiu really could only imagine what couples did.

It didn’t help that Luo Binghe was even worse than him.

“He basically asked how to get a man to like him,” Shang Qinghua had informed Shen Qingqiu. “To a room full of demons.”

Shen Qingqiu wanted to sink into the floor.

“And what did they tell him?” He asked, then thought better of the question. “What did you tell him?”

“Nothing,” Shang Qinghua said too quickly.

“Airplane, I swear to god,” Shen Qingqiu groaned.

“Nothing bad,” Shang Qinghua corrected. “Besides, it’s not like it matters. He knows you like him at this point.”

Shen Qingqiu closed his eyes.

“Wait,” Shang Qinghua was probably gaping at him. Shen Qingqiu wanted to hit him on the head with his fan, but that would involve opening his eyes and facing the mess he was in. “He does know that, right?”

“I don’t know,” Shen Qingqiu blurted. It was only when he heard the words out loud that he realized how bad they made him sound. “I think he does.”

“But you never thought to tell him?” Shang Qinghua asked.

Shen Qingqiu opened his eyes now. There were, again, a lot of excuses.

“I mean, I left with him,” Shen Qingqiu stated. He’d chosen Luo Binghe. He’d chosen him when he’d had no obligation to. Shouldn’t that have been enough to make his feelings clear.

“Communication is very important for a healthy relationship,” Shang Qinghua said.

This time Shen Qingqiu did hit him with his fan.

Still, when he was alone and more than a little bit exhausted, he let himself admit that Airplane had a point. It hurt his pride to think that, but it wasn’t like his pride wasn’t already severely dented. He didn’t talk to Luo Binghe enough.

Sure, while they lived in their bamboo house away from everything else, they spent nearly every moment speaking to each other. But they didn’t talk about what they were. They’d never addressed the meaning behind actions, and Shen Qingqiu knew that there were still so many of his that Luo Binghe would never be able to understand. But they were going to have to have a real conversation at some point, weren’t they?

They couldn’t just carry on like they knew what they were doing forever. At some point one of them would falter, and when that happened they would need the other to catch them. Shen Qingqiu wasn’t sure he knew how to catch Luo Binghe, but he wanted to.

His feelings were still a bit confusing.

Maybe that was normal for one’s first real relationship. Luo Binghe was Shen Qingqiu’s first for a lot of things.

He might have always been attracted to men. He might have spent years burying that so deep down that even the memory of it was too crushed to piece together. This was still the first time he’d let himself feel like this.

Luo Binghe was the first man—he was the first person—to make Shen Qingqiu ache with desire. He hid it well (or he at least hid it better than Luo Binghe himself did), but he didn’t hide the burning from himself. It was pathetic to have your sexual awakening at his age, and even more pathetic that it had taken a second life for him to get this far, but that was where he was.

The annoying little thoughts that came with this were more distracting than Shen Qingqiu thought they would be. They made trying to sort out the emotions harder, because thinking about how he felt toward Luo Binghe came with thinking about the way that Luo Binghe looked at him, and the way he talked to him, and the way he touched him.

But it was stupid to worry that Luo Binghe didn’t know Shen Qingqiu liked him. He did like him. He loved him.

That thought caught Shen Qingqiu off guard. It didn’t feel new. Loving Luo Binghe wasn’t something that had just appeared within him, but it wasn’t something Shen Qingqiu had taken full stock of.

He loved Luo Binghe. When had that happened?

Maybe when he’d woken up after everything was over and felt numb when Luo Binghe’s face wasn’t the first he’d seen. Maybe when he was desperately trying to protect Luo Binghe’s unconscious body in the Holy Mausoleum. Maybe when he’d self destructed and died in Luo Binghe’s arms.

Maybe when he’d pushed Luo Binghe into he endless abyss and had done all he could not to feel the loss of him.

Did it even matter when Shen Qingqiu had fallen? The point was that he had. He really had. He loved Luo Binghe in a way he’d never loved anyone before and doubted he ever would again. This feeling was for the two of them only.

Shen Qingqiu was in love with Luo Binghe.

And he had no idea how to tell him.

He wanted to. Of course he wanted to, but that wasn’t something he could just say. Not because he was embarrassed—he was but that was beside the point—but because he knew that if he just blurted the words it might break the fragile thing that was the relationship they built.

It was a little bit silly. Luo Binghe had confessed before him. He’d poured his heart out so many times that Shen Qingqiu couldn’t help feeling guilty that it had taken himself so long to understand his own. Still, it had become normal for Luo Binghe to declare his feelings—to wear them on his chest for Shen Qingqiu to just have to deal with.

Shen Qingqiu wasn’t open. That wasn’t his fault, he was a transmigrator living in a world that used to just be a shitty story to him. He was working on being more open about the things he could, but he was miles away from telling anyone any of the secrets he’d kept since he woke up in this world.

Aside from Airplane, but he didn’t really count.

Shen Qingqiu wanted to tell Luo Binghe that he loved him, but he was terrified that if he did it in the wrong way Luo Binghe wouldn’t believe him.

It hurt to think that—to face that he thought that—but it was fair, wasn’t it? He’d nearly died to save Luo Binghe twice, but he’d never been honest with him. Even as they lived together, even as they ended and started each day lying in the same bed, Shen Qingqiu knew that Luo Binghe still doubted him.

Sometimes it was easier to recognize. Sometimes, Luo Binghe looked at him like he was made of glass and one wrong move would shatter the peace between them. Sometimes, there was a sadness in Luo Binghe’s eyes and Shen Qingqiu didn’t have to ask to know that he’d put it there.

He’d hurt Luo Binghe so many times.

Most weren’t his fault. Some were for the best. That didn’t matter. None of his excuses for anything ever mattered.

So he wasn’t sure how to show Luo Binghe that he’d chosen him not for now but forever. Actions spoke louder than words, but Shen Qingqiu wasn’t the best at grand gestures—aside from the ones that resulted in him nearly dying. Instead he put all of the seniority he could in the little domestic bubble that their life right now had become.

Both of them knew it couldn’t last forever. They had responsibilities, but Shen Qingqiu was determined not to leave the little bamboo house until they were both on the same page. The Luo Binghe that would face the rest of the world would be one who knew that Shen Qingqiu loved him.

Still, the words almost slipped out many times.

One morning he woke up before Luo Binghe. That was a rare occurrence, and Shen Qingqiu thought he’d use it as a chance to show his boyfriend (was that even the right word? It wasn’t one used in this world, but Shen Qingqiu wasn’t sure what else to call what they were right now) that he was capable of being doting. He gingerly got out their bed, being careful not to wake Luo Binghe in the process of detangling his arms from his waist, and made the both of them breakfast.

It wasn’t good. It wasn’t bad either, but compared to Luo Binghe is skills in the kitchen were more than lacking. Still, it was the thought that counted and he was trying.

Shen Qingqiu was just about to bring the little tray of food to the bedroom, when Luo Binghe’s voice broke through the quiet tranquility of the morning. His cry of “Shizun” seemed to cut through the air. Shen Qingqiu knew that frantic tone. They were a room apart and he could still hear Luo Binghe clearly. Well, at least they didn’t have any neighbors to worry about disturbing.

Before he could even open his mouth to respond, Luo Binghe had burst into the room. He was still wearing his pajamas. The robe hung open, reminding Shen Qingqiu once again that while his heart may have differed his body was still that of a perfect stallion protagonist. Shen Qingqiu's thought’s didn’t have time to linger in the gutter, though. After taking in Luo Binghe’s lack of dress his eyes landed on the expression on his former disciple’s face.

Fear.

All at once, Shen Qingqiu realized how stupid he’d been. Of course Luo Binghe’s first thought upon finding their bed empty would be that he’d left him. Even if he said he trusted him, even if they were getting better, Shen Qingqiu knew Luo Binghe’s fear of abandonment wasn’t entirely gone. It would probably take years for those emotional scars to fade.

“Shizun.” The look of relief on Luo Binghe’s face just about broke Shen Qingqiu’s heart.

“Good morning,” Shen Qingqiu said. “Breakfast is ready.”

“If you were hungry you could have woken me,” Luo Binghe—ever the obedient disciple—stated.

“I know,” Shen Qingqiu let himself smile now. “But I’m not entirely helpless.”

“Of course,” Luo Binghe said. “But you shouldn’t have to do this yourself.”

“Why not?” He asked, already knowing Luo Binghe’s thought process. “Is it that wrong for me to want to do something nice for the man I— for the man I’m with.”

Just like that, while standing in their kitchen Shen Qingqiu had almost told Luo Binghe he loved him. It felt right, even though he knew they weren’t ready yet. He knew that hearing those words so soon after panicking that he’d been run from again wouldn’t be good for Luo Binghe. Maybe he’d think it was, but Shen Qingqiu knew better. He knew that Luo Binghe deserved a better confession.

“I thought you left,” Luo Binghe whispered, catching Shen Qingqiu off guard. He hadn’t expected him to address the conclusion they both knew he’d reached. “I’m sorry.”

Shen Qingqiu placed the tray back down on the counter and crossed the distance between them. Luo Binghe’s eyes closed when Shen Qingqiu’s fingers touched his face. It was too late, though. Shen Qingqiu had already seen the glint of unshed tears.

“What are you apologizing for?” Shen Qingqiu murmured. It was his fault—his past actions that had caused Luo Binghe to jump to that conclusion.

He pressed their lips together. Luo Binghe didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. It was sloppy, like the first few had been. Shen Qingqiu was far from an expert, but over the past few months he had at least taught Luo Binghe to slow down and not treat every second they were touching like it would be their last.

Right now, though, he wanted the mess. He wanted Luo Binghe to kiss him until he gasped for breath, because that meant that Luo Binghe could feel the pounding of his heart. If they were all over the place, then Luo Binghe wouldn’t have to room to worry about Shen Qingqiu disappearing on him.

Luo Binghe stumbled forward, taking Shen Qingqiu with him. Shen Qingqiu felt his back hit the counter of their kitchen. It would probably leave a bruise from the pressure of Luo Binghe arching him into it, but Shen Qingqiu couldn’t care less.

By the time they were finished the food was cold. Neither of them complained—Shen Qingqiu because he doubted the food was any better warm, and Luo Binghe probably because even if it tasted awful he’d have no ill words to say about the meal his Shizun had prepared for him.

“I wouldn’t leave,” Shen Qingqiu said before he could stop himself.

It was later in the day. That moment had ended, and he hadn’t wanted to bring it back but part of him knew that Luo Binghe needed to hear this. And maybe he also needed to say it.

“I don’t want to leave,” he didn’t know how to meet Luo Binghe’s eyes. So instead he looked at his fan. He was still a coward when it came to talking about his feelings, but he was trying. “And if I did, I’d take you with me.”

“I know,” Luo Binghe wrapped his arms around Shen Qingqiu’s waist. Shen Qingqiu leaned into the touch. He really wanted this just to be it—he wanted to pretend he thought Luo Binghe believed both of them—but he knew they had to face this even if it was hard.

Airplane’s words floated back to his head. Communication. It was annoying coming from him, but that didn’t make it any less right.

“No, you don’t.” Shen Qingqiu said. “You don’t believe me, and that’s okay.”

He forced himself to look and Luo Binghe now. It was a mistake. There were tears in Luo Binghe’s eyes and more than anything, Shen Qingqiu wanted to kiss the sadness away.

“Hey,” he touched Luo Binghe’s face. He didn’t know why he’d thought they could have a conversation like this without Luo Binghe crying. (Well, at least he wasn’t afraid to be open about his emotions). “I’m not mad at you, don’t make that face.”

“I want to trust you,” Luo Binghe said. Shen Qingqiu believed him. “I know you don’t want to hurt me.”

Only he had. They’d both hurt each other. Some of the times they’d meant to, and others they hadn’t.

“I—” Shen Qingqiu stopped himself again. This also wasn’t the right time to tell him. “Right now, the fact that you want to is enough for me.”

He meant this. They had all the time in the world. He didn’t need to rush Luo Binghe to forget what they’d gone through.

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe was starting at him in that intent way that usually meant he was either going to kiss him or say something idiotic.

Shen Qingqiu made the choice for him and seal their lips together.

The next time he’d nearly said it, they were out in the nearby village. They needed ingredients for the dinner Luo Binghe wanted to make, and it wasn’t like anyone in this area knew who they were. Shen Qingqiu had forgotten how relaxing it was to just be another face in the crowd and not constantly having to look over his shoulder to make sure someone wasn’t watching him.

Although, the person he had been watching out for was currently attached to his arm so maybe things weren’t that different than they used to be.

Luo Binghe was usually clingy. At first Shen Qingqiu had thought it was a side effect to the possessive part of his personality. He figured Luo Binghe’s need to be touching him at all times, had more to do with demonstrating to those around them that Shen Qingqiu was his and only his. Which was a little bit demeaning, but Shen Qingqiu picked his battles.

Now, however, they weren’t anywhere near the people that Luo Binghe had once been jealous of. Still, the clinginess had not lessened as they made their way through the street market.

It was a bit annoying. It was also a bit endearing. Shen Qingqiu wasn’t going to say the last part out loud, he knew full well the last thing Luo Binghe’s behavior needed was encouragement.

Just being in physical contact like this as they went about their day reminded Shen Qingqiu that they were still in new territory. Luo Binghe liked to touch him, in fact he made a point to at pretty much every moment possible (hence why the extra encouragement was not needed). But normally a hand on Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder would quickly become one on his waist. Normally, when Luo Binghe leaned close to him it didn’t take long for his lips to find some part of Shen Qingqiu.

As they walked around and purchased the food they needed, there was nothing alluring about the way Luo Binghe was hanging off of him. This platonic contact was new for them and it was nice.

Well, it was nice until one of the stall vendor’s attention was a little too fixed on Luo Binghe. Shen Qingqiu wasn’t a jealous person. He was just a little bit uncomfortable with the way this young woman was looking at the man he was in a relationship with. That was a perfectly normal, healthy reaction.

He wasn’t jealous, he was just very aware that if it wasn’t for Luo Binghe’s disinterest he could very easily have the harem of the original novel. He wasn’t jealous, he just didn’t understand why Luo Binghe was still talking to her—why he was still smiling that perfect smile as if he had no idea how it could melt anyone.

He wasn’t jealous. He was a little bit jealous.

Shen Qingqiu hit his breaking point when the girl reached over the vegetable stand to tuck a stray strand of hair back into Luo Binghe’s bun. Barely mutter an apology and excuse to why they needed to quickly be at the other end of the market, Shen Qingqiu hauled his former disciple away from the most likely love struck girl.

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe’s voice was full of innocence and confusion. “Is something wrong? I was going to buy some of the vegetables from that stand.”

“There are other stands,” Shen Qingqiu said through his teeth.

Luop Binghe planted his feet in the middle of the market walkway, forcing Shen Qingqiu to stop as well. Shen Qingqiu hadn’t noticed at what point he’d started clinging to Luo Binghe’s arm instead of the other way around.

“Nothing is wrong,” Shen Qingqiu stated. “I just thought that stand was a bit overpriced.”

“Shizun promised that he wasn’t going to lie to me anymore.”

It was a low move. The triumphant look on Luo Binghe’s face at knowing that he’d back Shen Qingqiu into a corner proved that he knew this but had chosen to use it anyway.

“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu started. “That’s not fair.”

“But you are lying to me,” Luo Binghe uttered.

“I am not lying to you,” Shen Qingqiu said. “The vegetables were overpriced.”

Luo Binghe just looked at him.

“And,” Shen Qingqiu sighed. “I didn’t like the way that woman was talking to you.”

Luo Binghe’s expression changed immediately. Shen Qingqiu watched his entire body tense, his eyes scanned their surroundings for escape routes, assessing his probability of winning a fight in the unfamiliar setting. The speed he switched gears was almost impressive.

“No,” Shen Qingqiu said quickly. “I don’t mean I think she’s a threat.”

While he knew Luo Binghe still had enemies, the possibility of them being attacked here was low. The thought had crossed Shen Qingqiu’s mind before. He wasn’t foolish enough to be entirely in honeymoon mode. Part of him was always a little bit worried.

Sometimes the worry was more present than others. For so long he’d been afraid of the danger that was Luo Binghe, it was almost funny how seamlessly he had switched to being a afraid that Luo Binghe could be in danger.

Now that they’d passed the events Proud Immortal Demon Way covered, Shen Qingqiu wasn’t sure how impenetrable that protagonist halo still was.

“Then what’s wrong?” Luo Binghe asked again.

Was Shen Qingqiu really going to have to spell things out for him? Given the way Luo Binghe was staring at him—still not completely relaxed since Shen Qingqiu had accidentally made him think they were in trouble—he was. Had he really not noticed? After he’d over reacted to every other interaction Shen Qingqiu had with anyone?

“She was flirting with you,” Shen Qingqiu said.

Luo Binghe blinked at him.

“That’s all?” He asked.

Shen Qingqiu let go of Luo Binghe’s arm and started walking again. Apparently now able to pick up social cues, Luo Binghe jogged to catch up to him.

“Shizun,” he all but whined.

“Don’t.” Shen Qingqiu covered half of his face with this fan.

Then Luo Binghe’s arms were around him. Shen Qingqiu contemplated refolding the fan to hit him, but couldn’t stop himself from melting a little bit into the embrace. Then he felt Luo Binghe laughing against him. He was definitely going to hit him.

“This is not funny,” Shen Qingqiu hissed.

“I didn’t say it was,” Luo Binghe hummed. He buried his head in Shen Qingqiu’s neck.

“Binghe, we are in public,” he swatted Binghe’s head with his fan.

“I don’t care,” Luo Binghe said into Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder.

“I do,” Shen Qingqiu said through his teeth. He shrugged off the hug, grasping Luo Binghe’s arm again and pulling him into an empty alleyway.

Luo Binghe wasted no time pushing him against the wall. Shen Qingqiu blocked Luo Binghe’s mouth with his fan before he could kiss him. The pout was back.

“Shizun—”

“We are not doing this here,” Shen Qingqiu glared.

Given the look in Luo Binghe’s eyes, he clearly took that to mean they would be continuing once they were back at their house. Shen Qingqiu resisted the urge to roll his. He also rejected the urge to contradict himself and kiss Luo Binghe then and there because that look could drive him insane. Lucky for his resolve, the glint faded as Luo Binghe seemed to get a better look at his face.

“You’re upset.” It wasn’t a question but it felt like one. “I’m sorry, Shizun.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Shen Qingqiu sighed again.

It really wasn’t that big of a deal, and he didn’t understand why he was making it one. It wasn’t like he thought that Luo Binghe was going to run off with some girl he’d just met. Luo Binghe had proved time and time again that the only person he wanted to be with was Shen Qingqiu. So why should it bother Shen Qingqiu if some stranger flirted with him?

“I didn’t think you cared about that,” Luo Binghe’s words echoes Shen Qingqiu's thoughts.

“I didn’t either,” he let himself admit out loud.

Luo Binghe leaned forward. Thinking he was again trying to make out in the not at all private space, Shen Qingqiu opened his mouth to argue but it wasn’t his lips that Luo Binghe’s met. Tentatively, Luo Binghe place a gentle kiss on Shen Qingqiu’s forehead.

“I’m glad you care this much,” Luo Binghe murmured as he leaned out of Shen Qingqiu’s space. “But you know that there’s no one else I could ever want.”

“Yes,” Shen Qingqiu breathed out. “But that doesn’t mean other people don’t want you.”

Luo Binghe seemed to process this.

“Then next time I will make it clear that I already belong to someone,” he decided.

Shen Qingqiu could feel his face turning red. Was there no other way he could have phrased that? Well, Shen Qingqiu’s embarrassment was far worth the way Luo Binghe’s words made his heart hum in his chest. Really, it was sappy and over dramatic but by now that was what he was used to.

“Binghe, I—” His own words caught in his throat.

They were still in a cramped alleyway in a town they’d been to once. It wasn’t romantic in the slightest. He couldn’t say those words in a place like this. Binghe deserved to hear them somewhere that meant something to them.

“Shizun?” Binghe was staring again.

“We should get going,” Shen Qingqiu cleared his throat. “You wanted to start dinner before sundown, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Luo Binghe nodded and let Shen Qingqiu pull him out of the alleyway. He didn’t ask what Shen Qingqiu had been about to say, and Shen Qingqiu was grateful for that.

He did make sure that their hands were joined for the rest of their shopping trip, stopping every so often to get a bit closer or press a fleeting kiss on the back of Shen Qingqiu’s palm. The PDA was a bit over the top, but Shen Qingqiu wasn’t going to stop it—not when he did secretly enjoy that Luo Binghe was going out of his way to make sure that everyone around him knew he was taken.

The “I love you” didn’t leave his lips when they went home either. Shen Qingqiu told himself that it still wasn’t the right moment. It was only days later, when the two of them were spending a perfect, lazy day together that Shen Qingqiu realized that he didn’t have a reason to wait anymore.

Luo Binghe didn’t panic that Shen Qingqiu would leave him at the slightest disagreement anymore. He wasn’t shocked when Shen Qingqiu would initiate things between them. He’d stopped acting like their relationship was breakable. There wasn’t a reason for Shen Qingqiu not to tell him that he loved him.

So why were the words still caught in his throat?

They were true, Shen Qingqiu knew that more than he knew anything. They were a bit terrifying, but his whole life had been terrifying from the moment he woke up in this world. They were the next step in a relationship that Shen Qingqiu wanted to continue to grow.

He wanted to be with Luo Binghe for the rest of his life—which, since they were both cultivators would likely be forever. Nothing about Luo Binghe should be stopping him.

Shen Qingqiu felt a dull weight in his chest. Of course, Luo Binghe wasn’t what was stopping him. Luo Binghe wasn’t the problem.

Shizun promised that he wasn’t going to lie to me anymore.

How was Shen Qingqiu supposed to confess, to be honest a bare his feelings, when everything they had was built on a lie. Luo Binghe didn’t know who he really was. He didn’t know he wasn’t the same Shen Qingqiu that had poured tea on him all those years ago. He didn’t even know why Shen Qingqiu had pushed him into the abyss. There had never been a reason or a way to tell him back then. Now, though, Shen Qingqiu had no excuse.

Accept, of course, the fear that when Luo Binghe knew the truth he’d never want to see him again.

Shen Qingqiu tried to tell himself that wouldn’t happen, that Luo Binghe had swore a long time ago to love him no matter what. He wanted to believe that they were stronger than that, but was it fair to expect Luo Binghe to just forgive him for deceiving him from the very start of their relationship?

One thing was certain, Shen Qingqiu couldn’t tell Luo Binghe that he loved him until he’d told him everything. And he couldn’t continue to live with Luo Binghe, to spend every day together, without telling him that he loved him. Luo Binghe deserved to hear it. He deserved so much more that Shen Qingqiu—than Shen Yuan had to offer.

His old name felt foreign even just in his thoughts.

Shen Yuan was scared of rejection. He was scared to live in a world where Luo Binghe wasn’t beside him. But if he’d been brave enough to die, he was going to have to be brave enough to be honest.

“Binghe,” he forced himself to look at the man he loved as he spoke. His fan was folded on the table. As much as he wanted to pick it up, he’d promised himself that he wasn’t going to hide his expression today. “There’s something we should talk about.”

It was night, but not late enough to go to bed. They usually spent this time talking anyway.

Luo Binghe was serving the both of them tea. His hands briefly froze. Maybe Shen Yuan had been a bit hasty when he’d thought that they’d completely passed Luo Binghe’s fear that he was going to be left alone.

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” Shen Yuan needed him to know. He hesitated to find the right words. “I’m the one who’s done something wrong.”

“I forgive you,” Luo Binghe stated.

“You can’t say that before you hear what it is,” Shen Yuan chided.

“It doesn’t matter,” Luo Binghe smiled at him now. “I will always forgive Shizun.”

Shen Yuan loved that smile. He loved everything about that smile. Taking it away was going to kill him.

Maybe he could say the good part first. They were owed that much, weren’t they? He could get a little bit of happiness before he had to bring them both back to reality.

“I love you.” It wasn’t hard to say. It never really had been.

The light that filled Luo Binghe’s eyes made Shen Yuan want to cry. It made him want to kiss him. It made him want to die right there on the spot.

Then that smile faltered. Luo Binghe could act like a fool when it suited him, but they both knew he wasn’t one. Shen Yuan braced himself for what would have to come next.

“But you said something was wrong?” Luo Binghe’s voice was small now. It wasn’t the voice of the demon lord sitting in front of Shen Yuan, but of the innocent sheep of a disciple Luo Binghe once had been.

“There’s something about me you need to know,” Shen Yuan’s heart pounded in his chest. “And I want you to know that I understand if it changes things between us.”

“Shizun, I—”

“Wait,” Shen Yuan held out his hand. “I’m sorry. I think I need to say it all at once. If I don’t I might not be able to.”

Luo Binghe nodded, obediently shutting his mouth.

“Do you remember when I suffered from qi deviations back when you were still a child?” Shen Yuan asked.

Luo Binghe nodded again.

“When I—” that wasn’t right “when Shen Qingqiu came down with that fever he died.”

Shen Yuan didn’t know how to explain the modern world or transmigration. There were too many little details that he knew would just make both of their heads hurt.

“At the same time, and in another world I also died.” That at least was a bit simpler. “And I woke up in his body. That day I met you for the first time.”

If he wanted, he could stop there. It would be easier to, but it wouldn’t be the truth. If Shen Yuan didn’t keep going, the weight in his chest wouldn’t leave.

“There’s this System,” he pursed his lips. “It’s hard to explain, but basically it prevented me from doing certain things that I wanted to do and made sure that I did some I needed to.”

“I don’t understand,” Luo Binghe interrupted. Really, Shen Yuan should just be impressed that it had taken this long for him to interject. “This thing was controlling you? Why?”

“Because I had to behave like the real Shen Qingqiu,” Shen Yuan said.

“Why?” Luo Binghe asked again. “If you’re him now why does it matter?”

“Somethings had to stay the way there were supposed to.” Shen Yuan winced. “In my world, this world is a story and the system needed me to do certain things that had to happen in the story.”

He expected Luo Binghe to interrupt with another question. Instead he just stared at him, contemplation wrinkling his brow. Shen Yuan could see him rewriting memories, he could see moments start to make more and less sense to him.

“That’s why you know things without anyone telling you them,” Luo Binghe understood. He’d asked him about this before, back in the Holy Mausoleum when Shen Yuan had been so familiar with the layout. Back then he’d dodged the question.

“Yes,” Shen Yuan admitted. “There are a lot of things that aren’t the same as the story, but, yes that’s why there have been times when I’ve been able to anticipate events.”

“Then,” Luo Binghe hesitated. “Then did you know I was a demon the whole time?”

Shen Yuan felt his heart sink. The question was fair. He deserved to be asked it and Luo Binghe deserved an answer.

“Yes,” he nodded.

“Did you hate me even back then?” There was a tremor in Luo Binghe’s voice. Shen Yuan realized he was trying not to cry. Usually Luo Binghe wasn’t one to hold back his tears.

“I never hated you,” Shen Yuan took Luo Binghe’s hands in his. “Not once.”

“If you never hated me then why did you throw me away?” Luo Binghe seemed to find the answer before Shen Yuan could find a way to voice it. Shen Yuan watched he gears turn in his mind. He watched something akin to hope flicker in his eyes. “Shizun, did—what did you call it? The system? Did it make you do that?”

“I’m sorry.” Shen Yuan forced himself to breathe. He forced himself not to break down.

If there was any part of this he wished he could omit it was the endless abyss. He didn’t want to look Luo Binghe in the eyes are tell him that he’d weighed sending Luo Binghe into that hell and the death that losing ten thousand points would give him and chosen his own life.

“The original you—the one in the story that is—was supposed to be cast into the abyss by Shen Qingqiu. You were supposed to spend five years cultivating until you were strong enough to conquer this world. The system told me that if you didn’t go down there then—” Shen Yuan closed his eyes. It was cowardly, he knew that, but he couldn’t do this while looking at Luo Binghe’s face. “Then I would fail the mission and be sent back to my world, which for me would mean death since I died before I got here.”

For a good long moment Luo Binghe didn’t say anything. Shen Yuan waited for him to explode. He waited for the betrayal, and the anger, and the hurt that was only right for Luo Binghe to feel. What kind of master chooses his own life over that of his student? Shen Yuan really had been a coward all along.

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe’s voice wasn’t full of rage. Instead it was soft. Shen Yuan felt something brush against his cheek. Luo Binghe was touching him, he was caressing him even after he’d heard the truth. “Please look at me.”

Shen Yuan didn’t think he’d ever be able to deny Luo Binghe any request ever again. So he opened his eyes and was faced not with anger, but with a smile.

“I’m happy,” Luo Binghe said. “You were never disgusted by me. You never wanted to hurt me.”

“But I did,” Shen Yuan blurted. “Binghe, I sent you to hell to save myself.”

“I didn’t die in there,” Luo Binghe stated. “And you knew I wouldn’t. You said yourself that I had to go in there to get stronger.”

“Why are you so calm?” Shen Yuan demanded. “You can’t just forgive me for this! It’s not something you can just brush off!”

“I get to decide whether or not I forgive you,” Luo Binghe replied. “And I decided that when you died in my arms.”

“Binghe—”

“You don’t know what it means to know that you never wanted to send me down there,” Luo Binghe was still smiling. “Knowing that you never hated me means so much.”

Shen Yuan gave up trying to argue. Luo Binghe wasn’t angry, this was the best thing he could hope for. He shouldn’t want Luo Binghe to hate him over something they’d both put in the past. Still, just seeing the man he loved accept that treatment hurt.

“But if you sent me there because I had to go,” Luo Binghe started. “In the story you keep talking about, why did the other you do it?”

“Because he was a monster,” Shen Yuan said before he could stop himself.

Luo Binghe had to still remember the tea Shen Qingqiu had spilt on him. He had to remember the beatings, the verbal abuse, the neglect he’d suffered before Shen Yuan had taken his place. Those were things that Shen Yuan didn’t like to think about. Until now, he’d had to live with the fact that the man he loved thought he was capable of them.

“What happened to him when I came back?” Luo Binghe asked.

Shen Yuan wasn’t sure either of them wanted him to hear the answer.

“You were supposed to torture and kill him,” Shen Yuan said. It was easier to say “him” than “me,” but they both knew he was the Shen Qingqiu that this Luo Binghe was designed to exact his revenge on.

Luo Binghe flinched. Shen Yuan’s chest ached.

“Is that why you were so scared of me?” He asked.

“You would have been in your right to kill me,” Shen Yuan said instead of directly answering the question. “I might not have been like him but I still did that to you.”

“No.”

“It’s alright, I know you wouldn’t have hurt me,” Shen Yuan smiled. “Back then, I didn’t know how you felt and after I betrayed you—”

“No,” Luo Binghe said again. “That doesn’t justify taking your life.”

Shen Yuan decided not to argue this one either, not when Luo Binghe was looking at him with that fierce expression. He let out a long breath. Luo Binghe was being so kind and understanding, but that didn’t make this conversation any less exhausting.

“Are you alright?” Luo Binghe furrowed his brow again. “We don’t have to keep talking about this.”

“No,” Shen Yuan shook his head. “I sprung it all on you. I’ll answer any questions you have.”

At that Luo Binghe’s gaze dropped to his hands. That was a bad sign. Anything that made Luo Binghe—the most shameless person Shen Yuan knew—act shy wasn’t good.

“What is it?” Shen Yuan asked.

“Does Shizun miss the world he came from?” Luo Binghe’s voice was small again.

“Yes,” Shen Yuan replied. Anything else would be a lie. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy here.”

He was. It had taken a lot of stress and insanity to get to this point, but right now he was happy. He was happier than he’d ever been.

“If it was possible, would you want to go back?” Luo Binghe asked.

“I already told you,” Shen Yuan started. “There isn’t a life there for me to go back to.”

“But if there was,” Luo Binghe met his eyes now. The fear was back. He was scared and something else. He looked guilty, as if he was the one keeping Shen Yuan from the world he used to live in.

“No,” Shen Yuan said. He’d never wondered that before, but just thinking about it made something inside him ache.

There were things he missed about his old life. He didn’t live with his family, in the days before his death he barely got the chance to see them. Still, there were days when he longed to talk to his parents, to get annoyed by his younger sister, to be around the people who he’d spent his childhood with.

But going back would mean leaving the family he’d made here. It would mean losing Luo Binghe.

“I want to be here,” Shen Yuan said out loud.

“You’re sure?” Luo Binghe asked.

“Of course I’m sure,” Shen Yuan smiled at him. “Would I say that if I wasn’t?”

“But you said you miss it,” Luo Binghe reminded him.

“I do,” Shen Yuan said. “But that doesn’t mean I’d choose going back over my life here with you.”

Relief washed over Luo Binghe’s face. Then he furrowed his brow again as he stared at Shen Yuan.

“You look tired,” he commented. “Do you want to go to bed?”

“When you say that it’s not sleep you’re suggesting,” Shen Yuan said in a dry voice. He waited for Luo Binghe to start pouting, but instead he just looked at him with thoughtful eyes.

“This time it is,” he said.

When Luo Binghe guided him to the bed, Shen Yuan didn’t protest. He finally let go of the tension that had been curled inside him all day. Luo Binghe laid next to him. Shen Yuan rested his head on Luo Binghe’s shoulder.

“Shizun?” Luo Binghe hummed.

“Yes?” Shen Yuan propped himself up slightly so he could see Luo Binghe’s expression.

“In the world your from, what was your name?” Luo Binghe asked him.

“Shen Yuan.”

“Yuan,” Luo Binghe murmured as if testing the word.

Shen Yuan felt a warmth in his chest at hearing Luo Binghe’s voice say his real name. He hadn’t realized that was something he’d wanted. It had always felt like he’d left who he used to be behind when he woke up here, but now he didn’t have to.

Luo Binghe wanted the real him, not just the person this world had made him. He hadn’t pushed him away when he heard the truth. It hadn’t broken them, it was making them stronger.

“Can I call you that?” Luo Binghe’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. “When it’s just the two of us”

Shen Yuan felt like he was going to cry. It took Luo Binghe’s relaxed expression twisting with concern for him to realize he already was.

“I don’t have to,” Luo Binghe said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed Shizun would be alright with—”

Shen Yuan silenced Luo Binghe’s worried rambling with a kiss. Luo Binghe eagerly kissed him back, not seeming to care that his face was still wet from the tears.

“I’d love it if you’d call me that,” Shen Yuan told him. “Thank you.”

Luo Binghe kissed him again. Shen Yuan knew Luo Binghe could rarely stop at just one kiss. He always wanted more. He wanted everything and Shen Yuan was finally ready to give it to him. Luo Binghe had offered all he was a long time ago. He’d more than offered, he’d forced his heart into Shen Yuan’s shaking hands and pleaded for him not to break it.

Shen Yuan wasn’t sure when he’d given his heart to Luo Binghe. It had been before this moment, but this was still the first time that he’d let Luo Binghe know that he had it. He had him—in every way and completely.

“I love you,” Shen Yuan breathed out for the second time.

“I love you too,” Luo Binghe grinned at him. There was that charm that Shen Yuan never knew how to handle. “I love you, A-Yuan.”

Shen Yuan still didn’t know exactly what he was doing, but that was alright. He didn’t need to know because this wasn’t something he was doing alone. The two of them could figure things out along the way.