Work Text:
"Shizun, please forgive us! We accidentally spilled a bottle of pollen extracted from Thousand-Year Unquenchable Silkweeds on the stack of the paperwork about the next quarter's food supply!"
Well, Shang Qinghua couldn't touch those papers anymore. Who even messes around with potent aphrodisiacs in the first place?
———
"Peak Lord Shang, unfortunately our usual shipment of melon seeds has been delayed due to the trade routes being terrorized by a variant species of Terrestrial Seismic Gila Monsters. Would you like sunflower seeds instead?"
Shang Qinghua rubbed his temples. "No, thank you."
He trudged back to his peak, sighing as he flew back. This was turning out to be a terrible day.
———
Shang Qinghua spent most of his morning rewriting reports so that Cang Qiong wouldn't starve.
He was filling out the last paper when his inkstone ran dry. Shit. Has he restocked on inksticks yet?
Tell me there's an inkstick in here somewhere. Why the fuck did I not write in pens when I wrote this stupid novel. Oh, right, because I didn't expect that I would get transmigrated after spilling my ramen and electrocuting myself.
The An Ding peak lord slammed his head against the table. Could the day get any fucking worse?
———
Turns out the answer was yes. In the form of a certain war god drenched in blood.
Shang Qinghua stares blankly at his husband. An awkward silence blanketed the space between the two.
"... it really isn't my fault this time. Plus, half of this blood isn't even mine!"
Shang Qinghua's deadpanned. "And did the other half come from that gaping wound on your thigh?"
As Mu Qingfang treated Liu Qingge, Shang Qinghua sent a quick message to Mobei-jun, asking him to come over because their husband came back wounded yet again. After he specifically promised he wouldn't.
Shang Qinghua plopped down onto the bed, positioning himself next to Liu Qingge. When Mobei-Jun arrived, Shang Qinghua motioned for him to lay down as well. He sandwiched himself between the two, basking in the glow of the afternoon sun.
———
That day, in the medical wing of Qian Cao, if you were lucky enough, you could catch a glimpse of the An Ding Peak Lord, Bai Zhan War God, and the Lord of the Northern Desert sleeping in a single bed, with their limbs entangled.
Really, the only problem was that Mu Qingfang really needed the infirmary back. Because in case those three hadn't noticed, there were more people to be treated. It's a xianxia novel, for fuck's sake.