Work Text:
Shang Qinghua, when he thought up Mobei Jun, never considered what the demon king would look like in red.
After all, it wasn’t his assigned color palate. Reds suited the hot-blooded protagonist, not his icy right-hand man. Shang Qinghua never expected Mobei Jun to even have an occasion to wear red.
Mobei Jun had long since claimed him, and Shang Qinghua was content with their private relationship. After all, how could he complain about sleeping in the same bed as someone as insurmountably powerful and handsome as his king? Bedroom activities aside, Shang Qinghua enjoyed the intense way that Mobei Jun possessed him, protected him, and filled up his life.
Marriage was not something that had come to Shang Qinghua’s mind.
Shang Qinghua was going through various letters, most of which were pleas for Mobei Jun to offer military assistance or mercy, invitations to banquets he certainly would not attend, and one invitation to a wedding. The parchment was dyed red and embossed with gold leaf details.
Shang Qinghua had never attended a demon wedding, especially since Cucumber-bro decided to marry Luo Binghe in a private ceremony, and found himself curious. He folded the invitation in his robe and left to find his king.
Mobei Jun was lounged casually on his throne, looking extremely bored by the chatter of his military advisors. The moment Shang Qinghua slid the door open, Mobei Jun’s eyes were on him. Shang Qinghua offered a polite bow, one which was purely for propriety’s sake now.
Looking down at his advisors, Mobei Jun waved a hand as if shooing away flies. “Reinforce our borders. Now leave. There is more important business I must attend to.” He ordered, eyes quickly flicking back to where Shang Qinghua stood to the side, waiting for the room to be cleared. The advisors left with haste, not bothering to give Shang Qinghua a glance.
As the door closed, Shang Qinghua smiled brightly, closing the distance between him and his king.
“Qinghua, you do not need to bow to me.” Mobei Jun said, voice firm but soft around the edges. He reached out a large hand, tugging Shang Qinghua closer to him by the belt, lifting him into his lap.
Shang Qinghua felt his cheeks warm as he shifted slightly, legs bent over his king’s lap perpendicularly. His slim shoulder pressed against a well-formed pectoral muscle, hidden under layers of robes and furs. “Ah, yes, well, I didn’t want anyone to think I was being rude or discourteous to you, my king.” Nor did I want you to kill anyone for being rude to me if they tried to correct my lack of greeting!
Mobei Jun frowned slightly, “Do as you please, then.” He leaned down, turning Shang Qinghua’s chin and kissing him, lips pressing languidly against his mouth. When they parted, Mobei Jun’s frown had disappeared. “Now, did you come to bow and be kissed, or did you require something of me?”
Still blushing, Shang Qinghua tucked a loose lock of his mousy hair behind his ear as he glanced away. “This servant was unaware that he could be so bold as to trouble my king to clear his schedule for only a kiss.”
Holding Shang Qinghua’s jaw, gentle in a way that felt unnatural for someone like Mobei Jun, he tilted his face up, forcing proper eye contact. The intensity of Mobei Jun’s gaze made Shang Qinghua feel hot under the collar, despite the cool temperature of the room. “Not a servant.”
Shang Qinghua smiled, feeling a bit cheeky. “A concubine, then?” Mobei Jun’s lips pressed into a line suggesting that he didn’t find that comment funny. “My apologies, my king. Anyway,” Shang Qinghua reached and pulled the invitation from his robes. “We– er, you received this letter. Bai Gu Jin is taking a wife.”
“Who?” Mobei Jun looked down at the red paper, wholly unimpressed.
Shang Qinghua also didn’t know. “Ah, I seem to remember he is a demon with a high rank of power. I can’t be certain.” Mobei Jun raised an eyebrow, his face showing disbelief that Shang Qinghua claimed to not know something about a random demon. “Why would I bother knowing him? If he is not the ruler of the Northern Desert, then I do not care.”
Mobei Jun’s lips turned to a small smirk of pride. “If it is insignificant, then why does Qinghua bring it to me?”
Of course, he thinks it’s dumb, Shang Qinghua thought to himself. “Oh, well, I’ve never been to a demon wedding before. I was curious as to what it’s like. After all, Shen Qingqiu and his mate married without a ceremony. Other than Junshang, who’s wedding would I else be invited to in the demon realm?” Shang Qinghua mused, fidgeting with the tie of his king’s fur cloak.
Mobei Jun looked down with an indiscernible look.
“Ah, well, of course, we do not have to attend! It just seemed more interesting than the other mail I was going through.” Shang Qinghua backtracked, reaching to tuck the invitation back away. Mobei Jun looked as if he was thinking about something, but was not privy to tell. “My king, please excuse me– I’ll allow you to return to your business.” Shang Qinghua wiggled to escape Mobei Jun’s lap, but a strong arm held him at the waist.
“You are my business.” Mobei Jun murmured, voice low and rumbly and sending a shiver down Shang Qinghua’s spine. Just as their lips touched once more, Shang Qinghua felt the two of them slip through the shadows into their bedroom.
—
Shang Qinghua had forgotten about the demon’s wedding and his curiosity after losing the invitation to the pile of his and Mobei Jun’s robes later that afternoon.
There was current peace, which was a nice change of pace from the hustle of battle. Shang Qinghua was glad to not be bathing blood off of his king each night or be worrying about being kidnapped for ransom. There was also not much business to attend to in An Ding, so Shang Qinghua found himself rather idle. In an attempt to look busy, Shang Qinghua was reorganizing scrolls in the palace’s library.
He was reaching up to a high shelf when another servant called out to him. “Ah, there you are, Master Shang!” The little demon servant was a small, ugly creature that typically busied itself with the more tedious things, like playing messenger.
“Ah, yes?” Shang Qinghua stepped off his stool, looking down at the little servant.
“The lord requests you in his chambers, and you are not to dally, says he.” Without saying more, the demon turned and ran off to do another errand.
Shang Qinghua piled a few remaining scrolls on a desk before briskly walking to his king’s chambers. When he entered, he found Mobei Jun in the dressing room, wearing a simple under robe sitting on an elegantly carved bench. Before Shang Qinghua could make a pass at him, an elderly demon was greeting him.
“Master Shang,” Her voice was tight and dry like she hadn’t had a drink in years. “Please undress.”
Shang Qinghua looked over at Mobei Jun with a confused look.
Mobei Jun gestured at the old demon, “She will be crafting some robes, and will need your measurements.”
“Oh, of course.” Shang Qinghua blushed, feeling terribly awkward about shedding his layers in front of someone other than his lover. This old demon appeared mostly to be like an elderly human, but her eyes were solid black, and small horns poked out of the nest of gray hair coming from her head. She wore intricate robes made from all sorts of different fabrics stitched together like a quilt. The craftsmanship was immaculate, the different pieces, colors, and patterns creating an amazing kaleidoscope effect.
Once Shang Qinghua had removed his everyday palace attire, she quickly went to work with a piece of shining golden ribbon. She measured Shang Qinghua’s entire body, practically, from the neck down.
When the gold ribbon pulled around Shang Qinghua’s waist, Mobei Jun spoke up, “Be sure to highlight his waist.” Shang Qinghua blushed as the seamstress pulled her ribbon tighter.
After measuring his legs, Shang Qinghua hoped he was finished. He felt antsy under his king’s watchful gaze, and antsy for this to be over in general. However, the demon was not finished and reached up to measure Shang Qinghua’s head in a few different ways. “Erm, exactly what kind of robes are to be made?”
Mobei Jun shook his head minutely. “You will see soon enough.” The old demon snickered like it was an inside joke, and her ribbon retracted into her sleeve.
“Thank you, my lords,” She rasped, “This seamstress will deliver your order as requested.” With that, she shuffled out of the room, leaving the two men to themselves.
Shang Qinghua finally let himself properly gaze upon Mobei Jun, dressed in a plain, gauze-white under robe and trousers. Naturally, he wore the collar loose, exposing the valley between his chest muscles. Shang Qinghua wanted to stick his face there. His long black hair was loose, flowing effortlessly over one shoulder. Shang Qinghua grinned as he walked over to him, reaching out to comb some dark hair behind a pointed ear with his fingers. Mobei Jun turned his head, placing a kiss on Shang Qinghua’s wrist.
“I don’t know why you’re having special clothes made,” Shang Qinghua hummed, “You look perfect just like this.” He gestured to Mobei Jun’s robe.
Mobei Jun had a smirk playing in the corner of his mouth. “And Qinghua looks best nude. Yet, it is frowned upon for special occasions.” The teasing comment dressed in Mobei Jun’s normal, stern voice made Shang Qinghua’s stomach do a flip.
Shang Qinghua blushed, “My king! You- you flatter me. Ah, speaking of, you wanted her to be thoughtful of my waist. Why’s that?”
Mobei Jun coaxed Shang Qinghua forward to stand between his knees. His large hands came to rest on his flanks, fingers reaching around the slimmest point. His hands were chilly, and they covered a great amount of surface area on Shang Qinghua’s midsection. “This part of you is small.” Mobei Jun said plainly, looking at his hands around his waist with a hungry look in his eyes.
“Small?” Shang Qinghua repeated, feeling heat creep up to his ears.
“Mn. Easy to hold onto. A very useful attribute for rescuing you and for mating with you.”
Shang Qinghua knew his face was burning red. His brain searched for a retort and came up empty-handed. “Since when is my king so forward?” Shang Qinghua huffed, cupping Mobei Jun’s face with his warm hands.
Again, Mobei Jun’s eyes held a look that Shang Qinghua had not quite parsed yet. He looked like there were words stuck in his throat, not ready to come out. Shang Qinghua, trying to avoid the anxiety of this unknown expression, leaned down and kissed the sigil on Mobei Jun’s forehead.
“I suppose… I must ask my king to demonstrate this usefulness?”
—
Shang Qinghua thought nothing of Mobei Jun gifting him with his favorite melon seeds and fancy tea leaves. He had responded with a natural, “Thank you, my king. Shall we share?” and didn’t quite understand the deep look of satisfaction in Mobei Jun’s eyes.
Later that same evening, Mobei Jun sought Shang Qinghua out with a pot of wine in his grasp.
Shang Qinghua looked up from his calligraphy, staring wide-eyed at the solid gold pot. “My king, what is that?”
Mobei Jun glanced down at the pot. “Wine.”
“That looks expensive. For us?” Shang Qinghua asked, setting his brush down. He didn’t even want to know how much that wine cost. Truly, the wealth of the Northern Desert’s ruler was boundless.
“Mn, come.” Mobei Jun turned away, walking out of the room. Shang Qinghua stood up quickly, shaking out his numb legs as he stumbled after his lover. Their sleeping quarters were just around the corner from the study, and Mobei Jun motioned for Shang Qinghua to sit at the small tea table in the room.
Shang Qinghua knelt on his cushion as Mobei Jun picked out wine cups, a matching pair of blue-dyed porcelain with gold leaf accents. “My king, is there a special occasion?” Shang Qinghua asked, watching him pour wine into both cups.
Mobei Jun handed Shang Qinghua his cup. “There is.”
Panicking briefly, Shang Qinghua ran through all the important dates he could remember, like Mobei Jun’s birthday or the anniversary of their meeting, but came up with nothing. He took a sip of the wine, feeling almost overwhelmed by the luxurious flavor. “Ah, please forgive me, what occasion?”
Mobei Jun drank his cup and stood once more, picking up a large box from the divan in their room. The box was made of dark wood, carved with the images of ducks, flowers, and a conspicuous Double Happiness symbol. Mobei Jun gently sat the box on the table.
“This is yours. Open it, then you will understand.” Mobei Jun’s gaze was fixed on the box.
Was he nervous??
Shang Qinghua nodded, leaning up on his knees to carefully pull the lid of the box off. Inside the box laid an extremely elaborate gold and red headpiece. To call it a crown would downplay its grandiosity. Wide-eyed, Shang Qinghua carefully removed it from the box. The headpiece had several ornate branches coming off of it, delicately designed leaves and flowers, and gold chains with decorative embellishments dangling down from the branches. With a slight shake, the gold chains jingled slightly. There were rubies arranged on some parts, and clear crystals on others. Shang Qinghua imagined that if he wore this headpiece, it would probably extend a hand’s length beyond each side of his head.
Shang Qinghua had only seen such elaborate headwear in one context. His mouth went dry and he gazed back up to Mobei Jun, who had a line of worry between his brows.
“My king, this is…” Shang Qinghua practically squeaked, heart fluttering like a hummingbird in his chest.
“These things are your betrothal gifts, should you choose to accept them.” Mobei Jun spoke softly, tracing a finger around the rim of his cup.
Shang Qinghua’s mind went blank for a second.
Is this… A proposal!? Holy shit!
“Of course I accept! How could I deny you, my king?” Shang Qinghua blurted, setting the headpiece down carefully in the box. “I- I didn’t think– Er, I guess I thought you didn’t want to be formally married? I mean, we never talked about it. I’m honored, truly, but very surprised.” Shang Qinghua felt his babbling getting away from him again, stumbling over his thoughts like an imbecile. “I would love to be your wife!”
Mobei Jun’s whisper of anxiety immediately bled into haughty satisfaction. “My wife?”
Shang Qinghua slapped a hand to his forehead, “Husband, husband! That’s what I meant! Don’t tease me, my king, I’m overwhelmed.”
With a faint smile, Mobei Jun poured more wine. “As a proper consort, you will receive equal respect from the court and subjects.” He pushed Shang Qinghua’s cup across the table, refilled. “You will not bow when you enter rooms.” Mobei Jun downed his cup again. “And you will never call yourself a servant again.” His voice was firm, laying down absolutes, and Shang Qinghua was so into it. Paired with the intensity of those frost-blue eyes, Shang Qinghua felt like he’d been struck by lightning.
“Yes, my king,” Shang Qinghua answered breathlessly. “When– When did you come up with this idea?” Truly, he could not think of a single moment wherein Mobei Jun mentioned an interest in marriage or weddings, even in the original works. Shang Qinghua gulped down his wine under his betrothed’s expectant gaze.
“Since the day you brought up that wedding invitation.” Mobei Jun replied, reaching over to swipe his thumb over a drop of wine on Shang Qinghua’s lip. “You are correct. Before, marriage was meaningless to me. You deserve the rank and recognition of my consort. I will no longer stand for others misinterpreting our relationship.”
Shang Qinghua felt like he might swoon if this continued. Instead, he felt tears pool in his eyes. He would blame this on the wine and his poor tolerance for something so strong. Whether it be the strength of the wine or the strength of his love, he’d never say. “I– I would be honored, my king. My husband.” Shang Qinghua watched with blurry eyes as Mobei Jun lunged across the table to kiss him, carefully avoiding the golden headpiece.
The tea table was shoved aside with Mobei Jun’s foot, allowing him a path to fully crowd Shang Qinghua’s space. Shang Qinghua allowed himself to be hauled into his king’s lap, whimpering as a tongue slipped past his lips. Mobei Jun’s large and possessive hands roamed all over Shang Qinghua’s body, pausing at his rear for a moment before holding him at the waist.
That night, the two of them went at it until Shang Qinghua was delirious and had to be carried to a bath, murmuring ‘husband’ over and over again.
—
After their betrothal was announced, the days were a blur of planning, daydreaming, and kissing when they had the chance.
Shang Qinghua was perched on a seat next to Mobei Jun’s throne, a seat proper for consort-to-be. He was doing his best not to look bored while a two-headed goat demon discussed some issue with a harvest. As it spoke, one of the small errand demons entered the room and approached the throne with a low bow.
“My lords, if this servant may interrupt.” It chattered, still looking at the floor.
“Speak.” Mobei Jun replied, resting his jaw in the palm of his hand.
“The seamstress has arrived, and requests your presence to ensure the garments’ proper fit.” The demon said, finally peeking up at the two.
Mobei Jun stood, extending a hand for Shang Qinghua. “Come,” He murmured, and Shang Qinghua nodded eagerly. The room was cleared before Shang Qinghua stood, all lesser demons making themselves scarce.
Shang Qinghua held Mobei Jun’s hand as they walked to their dressing quarters. “Ah, my king, would these be our wedding clothes?” Glancing down with a warm expression, Mobei Jun made a short noise of affirmation. Shang Qinghua smiled back, “I’m sure my king will be exceedingly handsome, a groom beyond compare.”
“Qinghua will be the one looking more spectacular.” Mobei Jun replied, hand slipping from Shang Qinghua’s hand to rest on his lower back. Shang Qinghua found himself unable to argue, the image of his elaborate wedding crown flashing in his mind. When they walked into the dressing room, the old lady demon seamstress was there waiting, standing next to two ornate wooden chests. Shang Qinghua assumed their clothing was packed inside and moved to seat himself on the bench.
The seamstress bowed, addressing them both with her raspy voice. “My lords, this seamstress brings your ceremonial clothes today. The garments must be tried on to ensure no alterations are needed.” Shang Qinghua nodded, and Mobei Jun made an understanding grunt. “Your highness, we shall begin with you.” She beckoned Mobei Jun closer with a withered, old hand.
Shang Qinghua watched as the seamstress demon pulled out layers of brilliant scarlet fabric, though he admittedly watched a little closer as Mobei Jun took off his outer layers. The seamstress made a displeased huff when his garments were carelessly dropped in a pile, and with a flick of her wrist, the clothes picked themselves up and laid neatly over another bench.
Shang Qinghua had never imagined Mobei Jun in red clothing. There were times when his clothing would be made red by blood, but that was an entirely different affair.
These robes, surely crafted of the finest silk and dyed a succulent red, slid over Mobei Jun’s arms and covered his shoulders. The vivid red color brought out warmth in the ice demon’s skin that was not typically there, and Shang Qinghua found himself enraptured by his beauty. Even as Mobei Jun stiffly held out his arms and allowed the seamstress to work, he was extremely handsome.
“Ah, young romance,” The seamstress cooed hoarsely as she tugged a belt around his betrothed’s waist, and Shang Qinghua blushed. The self-satisfied look on Mobei Jun’s face seemed to indicate that he spoke without intending to. He pressed his lips closed, lest he say anything else embarrassing in front of a stranger.
The clothes covering Mobei Jun’s body were elaborately embroidered with fine gold threads, creating images of orchids, lotuses, and other symbols and designs. He was dressed in a plain red underlayer that reached nearly to the floor, an ornate hanfu top with a matching skirt, paired with a belt to keep his lines tidy. The last item the seamstress procured from her chest for Mobei Jun was a scarlet outer robe, lined with white fur and decorated with the same gold embroidery with branching phoenixes covering the wide, sweeping sleeves. The robe was quite long, having somewhat of a train dragging on the ground behind him. The seamstress fashioned a small gold chain across Mobei Jun’s chest to keep the robe from slipping out of place.
Pleased with her work, the seamstress stepped aside, and Mobei Jun moved to look at himself in the tall mirror in the corner. With a small frown, he tugged his lapels loose, exposing his chest more like his usual style. The seamstress looked like she wanted to fuss but would not dare. She cast a dismayed look at the newly made wrinkles anyway. Mobei Jun gazed down at her, “I will wear them like this.” Nodding, she stepped forward and made some small adjustments, smoothing out the lines once more while keeping his chest open.
Shang Qinghua could only sit and watch, fully aware that his mouth was probably hanging open and he was a breath away from drooling. Mobei Jun caught sight of him over his shoulder in the mirror, and his lips twitched in a smug fashion. He couldn’t help himself– Mobei Jun was really too handsome, and to see such a handsome person dressed in such fine wedding clothes and knowing that you’re the bumbling idiot that gets to marry him? Impossible to keep composure!
The seamstress fiddled with things a bit more before deciding she was satisfied with the fit of Mobei Jun’s outfit. Mobei Jun undressed and redressed himself, all under Shang Qinghua’s shameless gaze. As the seamstress carefully repacked the wedding clothes, Shang Qinghua stood to take his turn. Just as Mobei Jun turned to sit and have his turn watching the fashion show, the seamstress bowed deeply to him. “Your highness, please forgive this one’s impudence. It is bad luck to see your bride- er, husband, in their clothes before the wedding.” She spoke gently as if trying to avoid his wrath. Shang Qinghua blushed, feeling slightly aggrieved.
I guess everyone went and decided on their own that I’m the shou!!
Not that that was… Incorrect, necessarily, but still! Shang Qinghua still had some semblance of face to maintain!
Mobei Jun gazed intensely at the seamstress, brow slightly furrowed. He glanced at Shang Qinghua, who offered a smile. “My king,” Shang Qinghua interjected, “We should heed her guidance.” The seamstress nodded gently. Shang Qinghua wasn’t a superstitious person, nor was he a bride, but the idea of trying on his wedding clothes in front of Mobei Jun made him feel way too nervous. Mobei Jun glanced between the two before sighing.
“Very well.” Mobei Jun gave Shang Qinghua one last lingering, heavy look before turning to leave. Once he left the room, Shang Qinghua began to remove his regular clothes, laying them over the bench to avoid wrinkles.
Overall, his clothes were similar to Mobei Jun’s. Thankfully, the wedding robes designed for him were not some of the skimpier kind that he had imagined for Luo Binghe’s harem. If anything, his robes were slightly more ornate than his soon-to-be husband’s. Shang Qinghua’s first layer was a thin red gauze, something that would be completely see-through if he wasn’t wearing his underclothes. His next layers were a similar hanfu and skirt, belted at the middle.
Shang Qinghua knew what his waist looked like. It was slimmer than most men’s, nowhere near as muscular as Mobei Jun’s, and rather unremarkable. The seamstress tugged his belt tight, nearly squeezing the breath out of him, and secured it. While it was snug, Shang Qinghua could still breathe easily once it was tied. Glancing at himself in the mirror, Shang Qinghua’s mouth fell open.
His waist! The seamstress had bundled him up so tight that he had a dainty little waist! He felt his face burn as red as the silk as understanding washed over him. This is why Mobei Jun wanted the seamstress to pay close attention to his midriff. It was slender and attractive, but absolutely not manly in any way! The robes covering his top and bottom halves assisted with the illusion, giving a bit more form to Shang Qinghua’s chest and hips, creating the image of an impossibly tiny waist. Shang Qinghua felt even more flustered as he remembered what Mobei Jun had said about this particular part of his body.
The seamstress smiled at him, wrinkled skin folding like an accordion. “Consort Shang ought to save his blushing for the wedding day.”
“Ahaha… Right, right.” Shang Qinghua laughed awkwardly, trying to recompose himself. He looked in the mirror again, this time looking at other details. The lapels of his robes sat high and tight to the base of his neck, outlined in gold thread. The belt around his middle had a large peony embroidered on it with leaves branching around the back. The sleeves of his robe were mostly gold due to the intricacy of the designs. Similar to Mobei Jun, Shang Qinghua’s clothes were decorated with flowers, flourished details, and phoenixes. There were also a number of gems sewn on, matching those of his headpiece. His outermost layer was longer in the back, providing a few inches of loose fabric to serve as a delicate train. The appearance was wholly royal, rich, and commanding of attention.
“These robes are awesome,” Shang Qinghua finally commented, running his hands over the soft satin.
“This seamstress would only offer the best for his highness and his betrothed.” She nodded, “Any complaints? Anywhere that does not feel right?” She asked, taking a step back to get a better look at the whole picture.
Shang Qinghua looked in the mirror, thinking. “Actually…” He started, patting his chest, “I think I’d like to wear mine loose, too. Is that okay?” Shang Qinghua looked at her sheepishly. He was never one to show off nor did he have much to show off, not like Mobei Jun, but he felt inclined to anyway. If his chest was bared, at least he wouldn’t be mistaken for a cute little wife!
The seamstress nodded, “Oh I suppose.” She reached over and tugged fabric loose here and there, opening up the view of Shang Qinghua’s pale chest. The robes came to a point just at the end of his sternum, showing off his chest without being too risque. It was rather sexy if he did say so himself. Once the seamstress was satisfied with the new arrangement of layers, she stepped back again, thinking. “Consort Shang, what jewelry do you have?”
“Um, not much. I have the big crown, but otherwise just some little things?” Shang Qinghua listed off a few items, like a pair of ice blue earrings and a few silver bangles, but nothing that the seamstress was too thrilled by.
She dug through her sleeve, procuring a compact and a brush. Shang Qinghua frowned. “I don’t think I want to wear makeup.” He had to draw the line somewhere!
“Something that may look good,” The seamstress murmured, opening up the rouge, “is the Mobei sigil drawn here, in lieu of fussy jewelry.” She pointed the end of her brush at the direct center of Shang Qinghua’s chest, the flattest part of his sternum.
Shang Qinghua imagined himself standing before Mobei Jun and seeing the hungry look in his eyes seeing his family’s mark on Shang Qinghua’s chest. He felt himself flushing pink for the millionth time, feeling a little weak in the knees. “Yeah, I think that would look good.”
After a bit more fussing with accessories, Shang Qinghua was finally allowed to change back into his black and blue palace robes. He did his best to listen to the seamstress as she gave instructions on how to dress himself the day of, but he must have looked rather lost, since she sighed and said, “I will advise that someone assist you on your auspicious day.”
“Thank you,” Shang Qinghua laughed, feeling overwhelmed.
He was getting married. Married?! To Mobei Jun. Mobei Jun wanted to marry him!
Shang Qinghua found his way back to the throne room in a slight daze, the words “Consort Shang” ringing in his ears. He snuck in, trying not to interrupt the ongoing conversation. It was a futile effort since Mobei Jun’s attention was stolen the moment he slipped through the doors.
Court was over early that day.
–
Shang Qinghua decided that the worst part of a wedding was planning it. Traditional weddings were so convoluted and if you did anything wrong, forget it, your marriage is cursed forever! Shang Qinghua didn’t believe in such karmic fates, but it made him nervous nonetheless. Not to mention, there was a whole slew of… Interesting demonic cultural traditions for weddings as well.
At least a few things were easy, like the guest list. The entirety of An Ding was invited, though Shang Qinghua doubted many would attend. Naturally, Luo Binghe and Cucumber Bro were invited as well. Perhaps if they were in Shang Qinghua’s original life, Cucumber bro would even be his best man! Such a title did not seem to exist in this time period though. Cucumber Bro would probably kill Shang Qinghua for even asking him such a thing.
Shang Qinghua struggled to pen his vows. He was a writer for god’s sake! Of course he would stress over each word meant to declare his love for his new husband. Never mind the fact that he would say these things in front of basically the entire world! He poured over his rumpled papers, stringing together pretty words that still somehow didn’t manage to convey his feelings. He wondered what Mobei Jun’s vows would be.
Just as Shang Qinghua thought of him, his betrothed appeared. He entered the bedroom, eyes immediately finding Shang Qinghua sitting cross-legged on the bed, papers all around.
“Ah! My king!” Shang Qinghua squawked, quickly collecting his manuscripts to hide them from his lover’s curious gaze. Maybe he should draft them in English? He knew the ink must be smearing, but oh well.
“Qinghua,” Mobei Jun greeted, walking over to the bed once all words were hidden. His lips held the faintest line of a smile as he sat beside Shang Qinghua.
Shang Qinghua felt the small tangle of nervousness that has been plaguing him recently crowd his stomach. “Is it already time for you to retire?” He glanced out the window, noticing it had become dark out. “Time got away from me.”
Mobei Jun leaned forward, pressing his lips to Shang Qinghua’s forehead. “Mn, I seem to have interrupted you.”
Laughing nervously, Shang Qinghua shoved his work into the desk by the bed before scooting closer to Mobei Jun. “No, no, I was just finishing anyway.”
Mobei Jun gazed at him, trailing his fingers through Shang Qinghua’s long hair. He’d taken out his ponytail earlier, letting his unruly hair fall over his shoulders. Mobei Jun’s nails caught on a few knots, but they loosened painlessly. Shang Qinghua closed his eyes at the touch, leaning absentmindedly closer to that hand.
“You are anxious.” Mobei Jun said softly, his free hand coming to rest on Shang Qinghua’s jaw. He likely felt the thumping of his heart.
“Ah,” Shang Qinghua blinked his eyes open, seeing his betrothed's worried face. He could tell thanks to the slight shadow between his brows. “My king need not worry. I’m always anxious, haha.” Mobei Jun decidedly frowned at that. “Ah, I mean- I’m very comfortable and happy in general, but you must be aware of my neurotic disposition!” Shang Qinghua blabbered, anxious to relieve his worry. “I’m just… Ah, weddings are such an ordeal.”
Mobei Jun’s brow furrowed deeper. That was the wrong thing to say.
“Does Qinghua wish to cancel the ceremony?” Mobei Jun asked, tone careful as if skating across thin ice.
“What? No!” Shang Qinghua blurted, “I just meant that there’s so much planning to do, and I want everything to be perfect. I’m only going to be married this one time, so I want to do things right. That’s why I’m stressed out.”
Mobei Jun’s rigid expression relaxed, and he tugged Shang Qinghua into his lap. “I see,” He murmured, pressing a kiss to his flushed cheek. “Can this husband be of any help?”
Shang Qinghua thought it over, mentally going over the things still needing attention. “Ah, well… We will need a reception banquet, and I haven’t thought about it much.”
Mobei Jun hummed, “I will take care of it.” His words were absolute, confident.
Smiling, Shang Qinghua nodded, “Well, you must know there are specific dishes to be served, like 8 courses worth. There’s supposed to be a fish dish, a suckling pig, chicken or duck, and some good desserts. They all have different meanings. Oh, and good wine for a toast.”
“What symbolism does a suckling pig convey?” Mobei Jun asked, sounding a bit amused.
Shang Qinghua blushed. “Ah, well… It’s meant to signify purity.”
“Qinghua is pure,” Mobei Jun said softly, his hand slipping around Shang Qinghua’s waist, stopping to rest at the junction of hip and thigh.
Yeah right! The whole palace has probably heard them being extremely impure at some point!
“Now you are teasing your poor husband.” Shang Qinghua pouted, nudging an elbow against Mobei Jun’s firm chest.
“You are not yet my husband.” Mobei Jun mused, “But soon you will be.”
Shang Qinghua allowed himself to sink against Mobei Jun’s form, relaxing. “That’s right. We’ve been having a scandalous affair, and finally, the stallion king of the Northern Desert will save my dignity and honor by taking me as a wife. A proper wife, too, not a concubine!” He laughed, and Mobei Jun caught his lips in a kiss. Those lips were heavy and hungry, and Shang Qinghua adjusted himself to get a better angle for it. He straddled Mobei Jun’s lap, casually draping his arms around those broad shoulders.
They parted for a breath, and Shang Qinghua nudged his nose against Mobei Jun’s, sighing happily as his fingers tangled in long dark hair. “Stallion, hm?” Mobei Jun’s voice was low, the vibration of it running down Shang Qinghua’s spine. His face dipped, pressing sweet kisses along Shang Qinghua’s throat.
Blushing, Shang Qinghua stammered, “Ah, well, that’s what they call a man like you– Tall, strong, handsome…”
Mobei Jun’s fangs brushed against the thin skin of his neck as he spoke, “Is that all?”
Shang Qinghua felt goosebumps rise on his arms. “Um,” He started, immensely distracted by Mobei Jun’s hands on his bottom, “There are other things…”
Mobei Jun licked his lips, the close sound of it tickling Shang Qinghua’s ears “Such as?”
“Ah, surely my king already has the right idea, no-nothing else to say!” Shang Qinghua chirped, stumbling on his words as sharp teeth delicately pinched his neck.
Humming, Mobei Jun kissed a sharp collar bone. “This king has misunderstood things in the past and will not continue to make assumptions.” His words were remorseful, but his tone was way too smug!
Shang Qinghua pouted, leaning back and holding Mobei Jun’s face in his palms. “You’re tricking me into complimenting you.” Mobei Jun’s eyebrow twitched upward, and Shang Qinghua sighed. “And it’s working. The… Er, I guess the most defining characteristic of a ‘stallion’ type of man is, of course, you know, being quite adept at many things. Things like sword fighting, magic, um, regular fighting, and so on.” Mobei Jun’s lips pulled into a small smile as Shang Qinghua babbled. “Stallions are good at basically everything, so, naturally, of course, they are also quite skilled in affairs… That one would have in a bedroom.” He knew his face was burning so hot it could melt the Northern Desert, unable to meet Mobei Jun’s heavy gaze.
“Hm,” Mobei Jun’s voice rumbled low in his throat. “Only in a bedroom? We have done it in other places.”
“You!” Shang Qinghua gasped, scandalized. It was true— Mobei Jun had feasted upon Shang Qinghua in every part of the palace, the leisure house at An Ding, and a myriad of inns, forests, riverbeds… The list goes on and on. Shang Qinghua’s shame burned his cheeks, and he put on his best pout. “Careful, my king, with behavior like this, word will get out that you bully your poor little wife to no end.”
Mobei Jun didn’t seem too bothered by the thought. He leaned forward, once again pressing wet kisses to Shang Qinghua’s throat. “I suppose I’ll be awarded new duties as the official consort, hm? It’s a shame that I must be kept so busy, honestly. I could be my king’s little bed warming wife, just lounging, ah,” Shang Qinghua gasped as sharp teeth nipped at his neck. “Just lounging and waiting for my king to visit me…” Mobei Jun hummed, lips pressing heavier, making Shang Qinghua feel a bit more shameless, “All day long, ready for my king, my husband to have his fill. Maybe, if the room was warm enough, I’d wear nothing at all…”
Strong hands clutched at his waist, nails sharp through the fabric of his robes. Mobei Jun breathed heavily through his nose, no doubt smelling Shang Qinghua’s blood, pheromones, and desires.
“A consort has no duties but companionship.” Mobei Jun murmured, a prideful tone in his voice.
Shang Qinghua sighed dreamily, “If only I could be so idle. Who would take my duties if I abandon them?” Mobei Jun left his throat alone to lean back like he was going to offer a suggestion, but Shang Qinghua interrupted, “Besides, an advisor must spend ample time with his king. I can’t be expected to share you.” Shang Qinghua huffed, fully allowing himself to pout.
“Qinghua is possessive over what is his.” Mobei Jun observed, sounding and looking all too pleased with himself.
Who wouldn’t be if they had a murderously handsome adonis as their mate?
Shang Qinghua must have spoken that aloud, as before he could think another thought, he was thoroughly pressed into the mattress.
–
On the morning of their wedding.
Shang Qinghua slept poorly due to anxiety and excitement despite Mobei Jun’s best efforts to tire him out. In the early morning, he found himself more energetic than he ever was in the mornings. Gentle sunlight snuck in from the windows, no doubt amplified by the snow reflecting the light. Shang Qinghua sat up, stretching his arms above his head. When he gazed at the man beside him, he saw a pair of ice blue eyes staring at him.
“Good morning,” Shang Qinghua yawned, cracking his neck. Mobei Jun hummed as he tugged Shang Qinghua back down and into his arms. He kissed him softly before trying to roll them over. “Ah, my king, we can’t get carried away. There’s much to do.”
Mobei Jun frowned but allowed Shang Qinghua to sit up once more. Shang Qinghua tugged Mobei Jun up to sitting, gently smoothing his tangled hair. “I’ll prepare our tea.” Shang Qinghua smiled, moving to slide off of the bed.
“No, I’ll do it. Lie down. You were restless all night.” Mobei Jun said sternly, giving him no room to protest.
“Ah, I just couldn’t sleep because I’m too excited. I’m fine, my king, I swear!” Shang Qinghua whined nonetheless, watching as Mobei Jun tugged on plain white inner robes. Mobei Jun ignored him, gathering the teapot and cups, as well as a cloth bundle of Shang Qinghua’s favorite tea.
Shang Qinghua watched as his betrothed made the tea, watched that handsome face hold tense focus. Mobei Jun was so beautiful, dressed in thin white fabric unfit for such a king, hair still tangled from a night of romping and resting, with a perfect face of features that were sharp and intimidating and softened only for him. Shang Qinghua was certain that Mobei Jun had never made tea before, and was simply mirroring what he’d seen Shang Qinghua do. Mobei Jun was the most perfect man in the entire world, someone Shang Qinghua had been paired with since the teenage years of his second life, and he was there, in their bedroom on the day of their wedding, making him, (him!) tea.
Without realizing, Shang Qinghua’s eyes filled with tears. His love bubbled up into his throat, choking him up as his vision of Mobei Jun became blurry.
Mobei Jun had been watching the tea steep, waiting for the water to turn the right shade. He suddenly frowned, smelling the air a few times before looking up. Shang Qinghua gasped and quickly wiped his eyes, but Mobei Jun was in front of him in a second.
“Qinghua,” He said softly, holding Shang Qinghua’s face carefully. “You are sad?”
Shang Qinghua laughed, blinking through the wetness in his eyes, “No, no, ah, I’m happy. I’m so happy it made me emotional.”
Mobei Jun looked confused, brushing a thumb through the line of a tear. “You’re certain?”
“Oh please, don’t get so self-conscious now. My king, I’ve never been happier in my life. I can’t believe we’re marrying today.” Shang Qinghua smiled. “Ah, the tea is probably ready now.”
Mobei Jun stared a moment longer before his expression relaxed, stepping backward to help Shang Qinghua out of bed. He was dressed in the same flimsy underclothes as Mobei Jun, and he didn’t bother to change before kneeling at their tea table.
Mobei Jun knelt opposite him and poured a cup of tea. Holding it in one hand, he offered it to Shang Qinghua, “My husband, royal consort of this Mobei Jun, please drink this tea.”
Nodding, Shang Qinghua accepted the tea, taking a sip. He reached for the pot and the other cup, pouring tea for Mobei Jun. Shang Qinghua cleared his throat, “My husband, the king of the Northern Desert, please drink this tea.” Mobei Jun nodded, taking the cup and drinking from it without hesitation.
Despite having few family members to invite to a proper tea ceremony, Shang Qinghua felt that just the two of them was more than enough. And, the fates wouldn’t immediately curse their union. Yet, anyway.
Shortly after their tea, their quiet morning was interrupted by various servants to begin the preparations for the wedding. Reluctantly, Shang Qinghua and Mobei Jun parted, leaving Shang Qinghua in their bedroom to be fussed over. Shen Qingqiu had arrived somewhere in the mix and easily stepped into the “best man” role, all while endlessly jabbing at Shang Qinghua.
Once Shang Qinghua was dressed in his underclothes and the transparent red robe, Shen Qingqiu sat him down for a truly harrowing hair combing ritual.
“Do you ever brush this mess?” Shen Qingqiu huffed, harshly raking a comb through those knotted brown locks.
“Jeez, yes, I do! Thank you very much- ow, ow! I’m gonna be bald by the time you’re done.” Shang Qinghua whined, eyes watering again, but from pain.
He could practically hear Shen Qingqiu roll his eyes. “Right, right,” He brought the comb up, “May the first comb bring you a long-lasting union.” Yank, yank, yank. “May the second comb bring you a harmonious union.” Tug, tug. “May the third comb bring you an abundance of descendents.” Shen Qingqiu snickered as Shang Qinghua sputtered. “And, last but not least, may the fourth comb bring you prosperity and longevity.”
With his hair finally free from Cucumber-bro’s grasp, Shang Qinghua ran his fingers through it to make sure it was still there. “I feel like I’ve been cursed…” He mumbled. That earned him a whack on the head with a fan.
“I have blessed you.” Shen Qingqiu sneered playfully, stepping aside as a demon with four hands began to craft his intricate wedding hairstyle. “Anyway, how are you feeling?” Shen Qingqiu took a seat nearby, resting his cheek in his palm boredly.
“Ah, nervous.” Shang Qinghua winced as his hair was tugged a bit again. He noticed that Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu were both dressed in their finely crafted formal attire, and he absently wondered if the same demon seamstress made their clothes too. “I guess you missed out on all this fuss with your wedding.”
Shen Qingqiu coughed slightly, fanning himself. “I would have told Binghe no if he wanted to go all out like this.” He said, nodding toward the elaborate headpiece that was waiting on a table beside him.
“Well, Mobei Jun is a little more patient than Luo Binghe. You couldn’t have planned even if you wanted to. What was it, like two hours between your proposal and your consummation?” Shang Qinghua quipped, relishing in the fact that his head couldn’t be swatted since it was currently being attended to by four demonic hands.
Blushing, Shen Qingqiu bit out, “You be quiet!” before lightly kicking his leg. Shang Qinghua snickered to himself. The demon working on his hair was silent, making the air a little awkward. However, with her four hands, she was quickly done with his hair, crown pinned in place. Shang Qinghua carefully shook his head a little, checking its stability. Surprisingly, it was light and secure, jingling softly with each movement.
Next was Shang Qinghua’s clothing. He stood up as his robes were brought in, and once more those four demonic hands were tending to him, wrapping him up like a present. She seemed to have been informed about Shang Qinghua’s styling choices, as his robes were loose and much of his chest was exposed. The last thing to add was Mobei Jun’s sigil on his sternum.
Shang Qinghua sat once more as he was marked, a striking blue pigment being delicately brushed on as if the symbol was calligraphy.
Shen Qingqiu rolled his eyes, “You look like a whore.” He jabbed as the demon left them. A few others still scrambled back and forth. “Your tits are hanging out.”
Shang Qinghua frowned, “Don’t look at my tits! It’s kinda comfy though. You should try it sometime— I’m sure your Binghe would love it.”
“Yeah, I could wear a potato sack and Binghe would act like it was the finest lingerie.” Shang Qinghua could practically hear Shen Qingqiu’s eyes roll. “Anyways, your wedding gift, from Binghe and I.” Shen Qingqiu muttered as if giving Shang Qinghua a gift was unbearable. He pulled a small blue pouch from his sleeve, shoving it in Shang Qinghua’s hands.
“Aw, Bro! That’s so nice. Should I wait to open it with my king?” Shang Qinghua gave the pouch a slight squeeze but couldn’t make any guesses.
“You should open it now, it’ll help with the ceremony.” Shen Qingqiu bid, gesturing to the pouch with his fan.
Shang Qinghua was perplexed by that, but opened the pouch. Inside was a piece of shiny silver that was slightly horseshoe-shaped and had two pointy parts. “What is it?” Shang Qinghua asked.
With a huff, Shen Qingqiu snatched it from him, turning it and holding it up to his own mouth as an example. “It goes like this. Like a retainer or a mouth guard.”
“Oooooh,” Shang Qinghua smiled, reaching back for the piece. “I never expected you to get me a grill.”
Shen Qingqiu very obviously restrained himself from throwing the silver mouthpiece at Shang Qinghua’s head. “No!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s for the blood bond. To make it easier for your stupid dull human teeth.”
“Oh! Oh, I forgot about that.” Shang Qinghua felt nervous again. “Good idea, bro. I’d be doomed without you.”
“I know.” Shen Qingqiu huffed. Shang Qinghua just smiled, tucking the mouthpiece back into the pouch and into his own sleeve.
Before the two could joke around more, a small palace imp interrupted. “My lords, forgive the interruption. The time has come.”
Shang Qinghua nodded, a wave of nerves bubbling in his stomach, “Right, uh, do you have to make it sound like I’m gonna die?”
“Relax, Airplane. Just focus on your husband.” Shen Qingqiu murmured, giving him a pat on the shoulder. It was oddly comforting for how stilted it was.
“Thanks, bro.” Shang Qinghua nodded, following the imp to the grand hall.
As the large double doors opened before him, Shang Qinghha felt overwhelmed. There was a large crowd, a mix of demons and cultivators. Shang Qinghua’s eyes focused on Mobei Jun. He was kneeling at the opposite end of the hall, at the altar, waiting for his consort. He looked strikingly handsome in his red garb. His dark hair was pulled up into an elaborate style and pinned together in a fine crown.
Shang Qinghua really wanted to kiss him.
As he approached the elevated platform, he bowed slightly in greeting. Tearing his gaze from his king, Shang Qinghua noticed a tall, thin demoness standing at the center. She looked old, skin wrinkled like tissue paper that had been wadded up over and over. At the same time, there seemed to be a thin layer of ice, making each wrinkle shimmer like a gem. She was clearly a Mobei Clan elder— Shang Qinghua knew of them, ancient jiejies who stayed even farther north, but he had never met any. Her expression was warm as she gazed down at Shang Qinghua with the same look a mother would look down at her ridiculous child. It still made him nervous, and he stumbled onto the platform.
Large pale hands kept him from falling as he knelt in front of his husband.
Mobei Jun’s gaze was completely enraptured with Shang Qinghua, giving long and sweeping looks as he took in the sight. His blue eyes lingered especially on Shang Qinghua’s chest, a possessive glare settling on the Mobei crest on his breastbone.
“Hi,” Shang Qinghua whispered nervously as the crowd settled. Mobei Jun smiled softly, kneeling with his back straight, a true picture of a king.
The Mobei elder cleared her throat, “It is with great honor that I join you all today, particularly our Lord Mobei Jun and his consort, Shang Qinghua.” Her voice was much deeper than expected, low and gravelly in the same ways Mobei Jun’s was. “Mobei Jun has already inherited our family’s ancient power, and naturally he has found a mate worthy of such prestige.”
Shang Qinghua knew his ears had to be pink. The elder spoke about something, but Shang Qinghua was only half listening as he had a silent conversation with his eyes. Mobei Jun’s eyes held more mirth than he typically let show in public, and the sight of it made Shang Qinghua feel absolutely love-struck.
“And now, before completing the three kowtows, your proclamation to each other.”
Mobei Jun glanced over at the elder and nodded, reaching for Shang Qinghua’s trembling hand.
“Qinghua. As your king, I have sworn to never allow harm to find you, by others or myself. As your husband, this duty will remain. I vow to fiercely protect you.” His hand squeezed slightly. “I vow to take care of you, listen to your endless chatter,” Shang Qinghua giggled at that, “and strive to ensure that you do not live a day questioning my love or dedication to you.” Mobei Jun looked like he wanted to punctuate his vows with a kiss, but they were just slightly too far apart.
Shang Qinghua felt somewhat choked up, but he cleared his throat. “My king, in some ways this feels like a dream. I never, ever thought that I would end up with such a full life, or such a handsome husband.” Mobei Jun smirked. “I, um, I sometimes look back at how stupid we were in the past, but I’m glad we made it here. I know my husband is very capable, but I too vow to protect you, love you, and cherish you as long as you’ll let me.” The choked feeling in his throat came back. He always got emotional at weddings! “I love you, my husband.”
Their audience clapped, reminding Shang Qinghua that they were in front of others and that Mobei Jun had proudly proclaimed his devotion to him, and him likewise. He felt a little shy, but Mobei Jun was sitting proudly with his chest forward, almost like a bird with its feathers preened for show.
“Mm, lovely.” The elder hummed, an undertone of delight in her voice. “Now, you both shall bow to the three realms, to the ancestors, and to each other.”
Shifting carefully, Shang Qinghua moved to kowtow, nose nearly touching the floor. For the last bow, he and Mobei Jun faced each other, bending until their crowns almost touched.
“Finally, as part of the Mobei clan’s tradition, his highness and his consort will complete the blood bond.” The elder gestured for the two to scoot closer, until their knees bumped together. “A mouthful of blood from your mate will irrevocably bind you to one another. Even when you are apart, their blood will be with you.”
Mobei Jun had that possessive look in his eyes again, and Shang Qinghua felt antsy.
“For this, you will each draw blood from the other, scarring the flesh, and sealing the bond.”
Shang Qinghua brought out Shen Qingqiu’s wedding gift, sticking it in his mouth. It more or less held to his upper teeth, though it was not a perfect fit. It reminded him of those cheap plastic vampire teeth in his previous life. The mouthpiece essentially gave him two fangs, and he smiled at Mobei Jun to show it off.
Mobei Jun leaned forward, cupping his palm at the back of Shang Qinghua’s head. They each tilted their head in opposite directions as they leaned closer.
The logistics of biting each other’s neck at the same time was a little challenging, and Shang Qinghua’s cheeks burned with embarrassment to be doing something so intimate in front of the kingdom. Even so, he shivered when Mobei Jun’s mouth brushed against his neck. Shang Qinghua opened his mouth, pressed in closer, and sunk his teeth into his king’s neck. A moment later, he felt teeth pinch his own neck, eliciting a soft sound of pain as he felt sharp fangs break the skin. He focused on his own bite, humming with relief when he finally got a taste of iron. Shang Qinghua released the bite, lips pressed against Mobei Jun’s throat as he caught the blood. He felt Mobei Jun’s mouth do the same, and tried his best to not think any particularly horny thoughts.
Just as he felt like his mouth was full, he started to close his lips and pull away. In an effort to not lose a drop, Shang Qinghua accidentally sucked, creating a loud, awkward, slurping noise.
The two of them parted, Shang Qinghua’s cheeks burning as he swallowed. Mobei Jun’s blue eyes shimmered brightly. Shang Qinghua laughed awkwardly over the truly mood-killing sound his mouth made. He felt like he had blood all over his mouth, but it didn’t matter for long.
As if he could wait no more, Mobei Jun rushed forward, lapping his tongue over Shang Qinghua’s mouth. Immediately Shang Qinghua opened his lips, caught in a rather filthy french kiss. At their wedding. In front of god and everyone.
They parted after a short moment, and Shang Qinghua took his fake fangs out. Mobei Jun’s eyes held a slight glow then, as well as the demon mark on his forehead. Glancing down, Shang Qinghua saw the sigil on his chest carried a slight glow as well. Blood magic, or something.
“Now that the union is complete, this elder passes along her blessing to Mobei Jun and consort Shang.” The elder smiled, extending both of her bone-thin wrinkled hands for them to take as if she was going to help them to their feet. It was mostly for show, but they took her hands regardless and stood.
The crowd of demons and humans cheered, shouting various words of congratulations. Shang Qinghua skimmed the crowd, seeing a few familiar faces from his peak. Mobei Jun took his hand again, starting to walk out of the room. Shang Qinghua went along easily, feeling somewhat like his head was in the clouds.
“Are we going to the banquet now?” Shang Qinghua asked, glancing up at his new husband.
“Not yet.” Mobei Jun replied. He had that possessive look in his eyes again and the hint of a smile on his mouth, only now that they were heading down the hall to their bedchambers did it stoke a different kind of anticipation in Shang Qinghua’s stomach. He glanced at the bite on Mobei Jun’s neck and felt a flush of pride, even if his teeth marks were hidden by dried blood.
Smiling, Shang Qinghua leaned against Mobei Jun’s arm as they walked. “You look very handsome, my husband. Red suits you nicely.”
His husband smiled, “Qinghua looks more enchanting than this husband could imagine. Especially bearing my mark.” His gaze dropped to Shang Qinghua’s chest momentarily, just as they approached the heavy doors to their chambers.
Before Shang Qinghua could say much else, he was tugged into their bedroom, eyes catching on a large amount of red fabric. “Ah! Our bed!” Shang Qinghua yelped, cheeks flushing. At some point, their bed had been remade with red silk blankets and pillows, all piled atop a crisp white sheet. There was a basket of dried fruit and flowers, all of which to symbolize things like fertility, good fortune, and other good wishes. The four posts of their bed were draped with thin red gauze, arranged in a nonchalant fashion. It was really gaudy, but Shang Qinghua doubted he would care for very long before the sheets needed to be changed.
Mobei Jun coaxed Shang Qinghua to sit on the bed, and gently plucked the pins of his headpiece out, removing the elaborate crown and setting it to the side. Shang Qinghua hummed in relief as the tension on his scalp relaxed a little. Mobei Jun pulled out a silver handkerchief and wiped at the side of Shang Qinghua’s neck, cleaning off his own blood. Shang Qinghua shivered as Mobei Jun’s gaze turned heavy, pupils dilating as the marks left by his fangs became visible once more.
“Ah,” Shang Qinghia gasped a little, as his neck was still a bit tender. “My king, did you notice I wore my robes like you?” He poked the center of his husband’s chest for emphasis.
“I notice everything about Qinghua.” Mobei Jun replied simply, making Shang Qinghua pout. “But…” A long finger ghosted down Shang Qinghua’s neck and past his collar bone, coming to pause at the demon mark on his sternum. “It was difficult to not devour you in front of my kingdom, faced with such a provocative little husband.”
Shang Qinghua’s stomach flipped, and he licked his lips. “Well… It’s just you and me now, so…” He smiled, grabbing handfuls of Mobei Jun’s robes, giving him a gentle tug closer.
In an instant, Mobei Jun descended.
–
Needless to say, the newlyweds were conspicuously absent from their banquet.
Several days later, Shang Qinghua would receive a snarky letter from Shen Qingqiu about their inability to keep in their pants long enough to keep face. Not that he even cared whether or not Shen Qingqiu thought he had face or not.
Shang Qinghua had a husband, now, and that was enough.