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Chapter Text

For the tenth time since the start of that very awkward conversation, Sha Hualing felt her soul was leaving her body in search of a less moronic purgatory in which to suffer.

As a demon saintess and one of the highest-ranked, most trusted acolytes of Lord Luo, she was used to being consulted by all kinds of venerable folk. Strategists, warlords, nobles. You name it.

But that was the first time the proud and aloof lord Mobei Jun had come to her for advice.

He usually kept to himself, needing no one to handle his business and following the orders of lord Luo alone. He didn’t need anyone, he didn’t ask for anything; he never hesitated, not for a minute. Silent, deadly, terrifyingly efficient. That was his reputation.

And yet there he was, slumped in Sha Hualing’s private parlor, legs crossed on a red velvet pillow with his head down as a confused child lost in the depths of a monster cave.

He had knocked on her door unceremoniously, without requesting a formal audience; when Sha Hualing managed to reattach her dislocated dropped jaw and ask him what was up with him, he had muttered a set of words the demoness would have never expected to hear from him of all people:

“I need you to teach me how to court.”

Sha Hualing and Mobei Jun were not friends by any means; demons rarely formed bonds of friendship, and the two of them had nothing in common other than their firm loyalty to lord Luo.

If anything, they did their best to stay out of each other’s way; their fighting styles were so different they clashed on the battlefield, and they annoyed each other to no end with their contrasting personalities.

That being said, they respected each other enough to be civil, and Sha Hualing was very much aware that despite her holy hierarchy as a saintess, within Lord Luo’s court, Mobei Jun outranked her. He was his second in command, and as such, despite the aberrant stupidity of the problem he was dealing with, she did her best to remain composed and keep the formality she owed to Luo Binghe’s main General.

However, after a few awkward exchanges, she could not contain her explosive temper anymore.

Damn, if he was going to nest his frozen ass on her decorative pillows and ask for love advice like a teenager, she would throw formality out the window. Moreso when the object of his glacial affections was that squirmy human rat, Whatshisname , that lurked in the palace pissing off everyone just by existing. 

“So, Mobei Jun,” she said, switching to informal speech after hearing a succinct account of the latter’s efforts to woo the nitwit. “Are you sure you’re courting him right? From what I hear you are following the usual mating rituals, so you're surely messing up a part of the process.”

Mobei Jun nodded, blue eyes fixed on the ground. Proud as he was, speaking of such things represented an authentic sacrifice for him.

“Yes. I’ve been beating him regularly, and I drag him around the limits of my territory every full moon. Just like my mother did to my father.”

Sha Hualing hesitated, lost in thought for a moment. It sounded like the usual ritual. Her parents had also beaten the crap out of each other. Maybe it was a matter of frequency?

“How often are you beating him?”

“Three times a day.”

“Three?!” she exclaimed, her long ears perking up with a loud chime of numerous earrings. “That’s pretty clear to me! I mean, just one beating would be enough to convey your intentions, two I’d even consider a bit pushy, but three… this human of yours really…”

She was about to say that the human must have had a boiled potato for a brain, but she held her tongue. It wouldn’t be wise to upset her guest any further. Just how thick was that undeserving idiot’s skull, that no rough pounding could get the point through–

Wait. Rough pounding. Maybe that was it.

“Tell me, are you really beating him?” she asked with a surge of enthusiasm that startled the ice demon. “I mean, with all you’ve got? Until he bleeds or blacks out?”

“Well… no,” admitted Mobei Jun, staring at her in confusion. “I did once, but he bruises a lot. It’s unsightly. So I've beaten him lightly from then on.”

“Then that’s the problem!” Sha Hualing exclaimed, satisfied with her breakthrough. “You’re sending mixed signals. Humans are stupid. If you go easy on him, how is he gonna recognize courtship punches from regular punches?”

Mobei Jun hummed thoughtfully. His eyes lit up.

“So… what do you suggest? Should I break his skull?”

Sha Hualing shook her head. 

“No, that’s too intimate; you should leave that for the last stages of the courtship. You can crack his skull open during mating, once you have bonded. I’d say ripping a limb would be more appropriate to begin.”

“What on Earth are you two talking about?”

Sha Hualing and Mobei Jun turned their heads to the open door. Lord Luo was staring at them in disbelief. He was holding a delicate silver trail with an exquisite selection of light dishes and a pot of fresh tea. 

Mobei Jun stayed in place and limited himself to lowering his head in informal greeting, but Sha Hualing rose up immediately and bowed deeply to Luo Binghe.

His sudden appearance made her nervous. He hadn’t knocked. If he suspected they were colliding against him, things could turn sour very fast.

“Good morning, my lord. I hope you had a good night’s sleep,” she said gingerly, her many ornamental trinkets chiming against her smooth skin.

Luo Binghe ignored her. She pouted.

“Mobei Jun, what troubles you so much you’d indulge in such an… informal meeting here?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Mobei Jun’s human does not reciprocate his courtship, my lord,” interceded Sha Hualing, reluctant to be left out of the conversation. 

Luo Binghe raised an eyebrow.

“The scribe? The weakling?” he asked, confused. Even though Shang Qinghua had been glued to Mobei Jun’s hips for years and his presence was by now normalized within the palace, he couldn’t for the life of him pay him any mind. The scribe was so inconsequential, so lowly, that he would have kicked him out of his estate ages ago if not for Shizun. Their strange friendship had always irked him, but he had tolerated that worm of a man for his wife's sake. 

However, that was it. He would have never in a million years guessed that his general wanted to mate him of all people.

“How…” he cleared his throat, a bit embarrassed. “How exactly are you courting him?” he asked, reluctantly. He had once asked for romantic advice of his own in the past, and both Mobei Jun and the scribe had tried to help him. He was bound to return the favor, no matter how cringey it was.

“Beatings,” both Sha Hualing and Mobei Jun answered at once. Luo Binghe was startled.

“Humans don’t work that way, Mobei Jun,” he said, shaking his head. “They see beatings as punishment.”

Mobei Jun flinched and finally motioned to get up from the nest of velvet pillows.

“Punishment?” he repeated, his face paler than usual if that was at all possible. “They do?”

“Yes. And they most certainly don’t link cracked skulls or ripped limbs with courtship,” Luo Binghe added.

Sha Hualing opened her eyes wide as if she were listening to a nonsensical fantasy tale.

“Are you absolutely sure, my lord?” she asked, confused. “Mobei Jun hasn’t even been beating him properly, just a few light–”

“Have you ever seen me hitting my wife?” Luo Binghe interrupted, impatient. 

Both demons thought about it for a while and seemed to come to the realization that the lord had always treated Consort Shen with the utmost care, as if he were a breakable crystal figurine that would shatter with the faintest touch.

And Consort Shen was an immortal cultivator more than able to kick ass if needed. Shang Qinghua would faint if the weather were too cold or if a palace imp startled him.

Mobei Jun felt his heart drop to his feet.

Luo Binghe noticed his consternation and sighed. 

“Maybe it’s salvageable,” he suggested. He frowned, looking at his tray. The tea was going to get cold soon. “Just… how often have you beaten him?”

“Daily,” answered Mobei Jun, dismayed.

“For how long?”

“...Three years.”

Luo Binghe blinked and stared at him in silence. After a couple of seconds, he groaned and turned, leaving the chambers.

“It’s not worth it; find yourself another one,” he sentenced, shaking a hand impatiently. “You’ve messed this one up beyond redemption. I’ll ask Shizun to introduce you to another peak lord if that’s your fancy.”

“My lord…” 

“You should bed that damn Qingge. Maybe then he’d stop sending those nasty bags with dead monsters to our doorstep. Sending presents to a married man, I should strangle him already and be done with it–”

Luo Binghe grumbled his way down the corridor into his private chambers, leaving Mobei Jun alone with his convoluted thoughts and a dreadful feeling of despair.

Sha Hualing patted the ice demon’s shoulder.

“I still think you should beat the crap outta him,” she advised, shrugging. “Or just go and fuck his tiny brains out, if he has any. That should make your intentions clear enough.”

The next morning, Luo Binghe woke up with the sun and put on his formal gear. There was a rebellion about to burst in the northern border, and as much as he hated to leave his marital chambers so early, he couldn’t postpone the issue anymore. He’d make it quick, no need to make a big deal out of it. He’d only take Sha Hualing and a couple of his trusted warfare demons. Mobei Jun would stay, he decided. He was too distracted at the moment and Luo Binghe didn’t want to risk any mishaps. He wanted to massacre the rebel faction quickly and be back in time to cook lunch.

He took a long, adoring look at the graceful figure resting peacefully on his bed, barely covered by a layer of thin, embroidered inner robes. 

“Shizun,” he whispered, kissing the sleeping man on the cheek. “I have to go.”

Shen Qingqiu hummed drowsily and turned his head to kiss him on the lips. 

“You are leaving?” he asked, eyes still half closed.

“This husband has some business to deal with. I'll be back soon. Shizun should sleep a little longer. I'll have someone bring your breakfast.”

“Very well. Be safe.”

After one more kiss, he was gone. Shen Qingqiu followed his advice and slept well into the morning. 

By the time he woke up, the dark sun was already high in the crimson sky of the demon realm. It was an ominous view for those used to the clear, blue skies of the human realm, but Shen Qingqiu was already used to it.

He stretched out, washed his face, and began to dress unhurriedly. He was about to put on his second outer robe when he heard a light knock.

He went to the door somewhat eagerly. He didn’t need to eat to survive, but Luo Binghe’s constant culinary pampering had spoiled his righteous cultivation habits to the point where he actually began feeling the old hunger cramps in his stomach again.

He opened the door with a pleasant half-smile.

And nearly shat his pants.

“Greetings, Consort Shen.”

Mobei fucking Jun towered right in front of him, holding the breakfast tray between his huge, dark-clawed hands, looking as murderous as ever.

“Lord Mobei Jun, greetings,” Shen Qingqiu bowed his head, smiling pleasantly. “I wasn't expecting you.” Holy shit rotting in Heaven, he scared the crap outta me! What's he doing bringing my breakfast? Did he mess up so badly he was demoted to kitchen maid?

Mobei Jun bowed deeply.

“My apologies. I intercepted the maid. Would Consort grant me a private audience?”

Shen Qingqiu was taken aback, but years of practice had him regaining composure in the blink of an eye. It would take much more than that to make him lose it.

“Of course. Let us go to the main conference hall.” With witnesses. Witnesses! If Binghe comes back and finds the two of us alone in our private chambers, he's gonna chop you into little ice cubes, okay?!

They walked side by side in complete silence. It was awkward as all hell, but enough palace demons saw them and respectfully greeted them, which was enough to create a solid trail of evidence that placed them far away from lord Luo’s bedroom.

Really, what was Mobei Jun thinking, reaching out to Shen Qingqiu all alone, when his master was away? Did he have a death wish? It was so OOC of him that Shen Qingqiu, despite himself, was burning with curiosity. He had never crossed more than ten words with his husband’s general. A private impromptu conference was something off the charts.

They reached the conference hall and Shen Qingqiu called for a couple of servants to tend to them, for the sake of a respectable alibi.

While the perky demoness maids served tea, he fanned himself regally and half-smiled at the ice demon lord sitting in front of him. He looked awkward and uncomfortable and kept side-eying the maids. 

He wants them out, Shen Qingqiu thought. He’s reluctant to speak in front of an audience. So, this is either something serious related to Binghe, or something too embarrassing to be said out loud. 

Once the breakfast service was settled, Shen Qingqiu dismissed the maids and delicately took a cup of tea to his lips.

“So, lord Mobei Jun, you have my complete attention,” he said gently. “What can this master do for you?”

The demon did not dare look him in the eye. That stoic stone column of a man fretted, actually fretted in his seat, looking as bashful as a damsel in distress.

Shen Qingqiu squinted. It was hard to tell, given the bluish pigmentation of his skin, but… was he fucking blushing?

Shen Qingqiu felt the old urge to cough a bucket of blood right there on the conference table.

Really? The murderous ice lord blushing like a loli? This should be illegal. It's too early for this. 

And then he had an epiphany.

Ah, so that was it.

Man, it was gonna be good. 

“My lord, pardon my boldness, but… might this be related to my Shang-shidi by any chance?” he asked, smiling behind his fan.

Mobei Jun was startled and finally met Shen Qingqiu’s clear gaze. He stared at him for a few seconds before speaking up, his voice hoarse.

“Consort Shen's wisdom truly lives up to its reputation,” he declared sincerely, with a hint of surprise.

He was indeed surprised. His ears had bled listening to Luo Binghe forget himself and brag on and on about how amazing Shizun was, and how smart and knowledgeable, and how Shizun knew everything about every topic under the sun. He had heard the story about how Consort Shen had masterfully navigated the Holy Mausoleum about a thousand times.

It all sounded so biased that Mobei Jun had never even considered it to be true, and yet there he was, not five minutes into their private conference, and Consort Shen had already hit the nail on the head. It had taken him twenty-five minutes of painful chatter with Sha Hualing to even get to the subject matter.

He looked up at him in awe, with something akin to hope. Shen Qingqiu chuckled softly.

“The lord shouldn't flatter me so, as I haven't aided him yet,” he said, waving his fan. “Do tell. What troubles you?” Come on, spill the tea already. I want all the juicy deets. Ah, Master Airplane, this is gonna be gooooooood.

Mobei Jun cleared his throat and began retelling his tale of woe.

“I seem to have made a grave mistake, Consort Shen,” he declared. “Today I learned that… demonic courtship rituals are unpleasant to humans.”

Only someone with as much experience being a poser as Shen Qingqiu could have avoided spitting their tea all over the table.

Unpleasant? Are you kidding me? It’s fucking torture! Demonic courtship rituals would shred a human to pieces, and that if the demon was not a particularly horny suitor. 

The second his marriage to Luo Binghe gave him access to the forbidden libraries of demonic history reserved for members of the high spheres, Shen Qingqiu had drowned himself in demon lore.

Being the absolute monster nerd he was, he had devoured tome after tome of series that would have been mind-numbingly boring to anyone else.

He had thus learned all the details related to demonic courtship, which was a business so gory and painstakingly graphic that made his lunch twirl in his stomach. No wonder demons were such an unstoppable race; if they managed to survive courting and mating, only the absolute strongest would produce offspring.

To imagine the feeble Master Airplane at the receiving end of such convoluted affections made him want to light a whole continent of candles for him.

He had suspected that Mobei Jun harbored those intentions for his friend from another town; the beatings were too regular and too lenient to lack meaning, and Mobei Jun was too apathetic to waste energy where it was not needed.

Shen Qingqiu had tried to hint something to Shang Qinghua during the latter’s brief fallout with Mobei Jun. Damn, he had been pretty direct about it, but the dweeb had clearly failed to understand what he meant. Months had passed since then, and they had made no progress whatsoever.

Master Airplane, you absolute airhead! Can’t you recognize the lore you wrote yourself?? Who made the demons so vicious and perverted when it comes to relationships? Who dug his own grave with his own hands, uh??

“Qinghua doesn’t reciprocate,” continued Mobei Jun, somberly. “Lord Luo thinks it’s beyond repair. He suggested you match me with another peak lord, but… I do not want another.”

Shen Qingqiu nodded gravely, trying to suppress the twitch in his right eye.

Introduce you to another peak lord? Does that child think Cang Qiong Mountain is the demon realm’s private Tinder app?! I’ll have a word or two with him once he’s back. Although… if I could match him with Liu-shidi… no more presents, no more tantrums from Luo Binghe… maybe–

“Consort Shen?”

“My apologies, I was lost in thought. I suppose then, my lord, that you want some advice to court my Shang-shidi properly, am I correct?”

“You are. Sha Hualing suggested doubling my current efforts, but…”

“No!” Shen Qingqiu exclaimed, batting his fan in alarm. “Ahem. I mean. That would not do, my lord. My shidi would likely interpret your… affections as anger, and it also might be too much for his physique. Let me think…”

I guess the simplest way would be just to tell Shang Qinghua and let him freak out about it for a few days. He’s bound to give in, he’s already so horny for this guy. Unless…

Behind the fan, a slow, serpentine smile drew itself on Shen Qingqiu’s face.

He could be the bigger man and help these two forlorn lovebirds, of course, but he could also take this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to get even with his dearest, most beloved Master Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky.

Oh, boy. It was too tempting to resist. Too tempting. Just a few words here and there, and his beloved shidi would get a taste of his own medicine. 

Too tempting. Impossible to resist. It was Shen Qingqiu’s turn to write the horny fics now.

“I will tell you what to do, my lord Mobei Jun,” he declared, eyes glowing with anticipation. “Listen to me, and listen to me well.”

Chapter Text

The intrusive thought drilled Shang Qinghua’s brain at least twice every fifteen minutes: I should have returned home when the System gave me the chance.

After the whole Linguang Jun fiasco, Shang Qinghua had emerged triumphant with a broken leg, rediscovered pride, a refreshed friendship with Cucumber bro, and a firm promise of hand pulled noodles. Life was good. Too good to leave behind, now that things were finally falling into place for him after decades of relentless suffering.

So, in an impulse fueled by sheer happiness, he had finally rejected the System’s offer to send him back to his world.

The System had immediately rebooted itself, loaded a cheerful generic Godspeed message, and shut down. It hadn’t sent any other notifications ever since.

Ah, to think the day would come when Shanq Qinghua would actually miss that innerving, low-key threatening digital voice in his head!

Hadn’t he learned yet? Hadn’t he, after a lifetime of misery and ill-luck? Was a tiny speck of bliss enough to make him forget that you should never, ever, ever, ever make plans or important decisions when you are in a good mood? Uh?!

He beat his own head in frustration. He should had known better. Fate had some kind of unending bone to pick with him: after tricking him into thinking that he had finally conquered a somewhat happy ending, even by his humble standards, it had ripped it away from him without warning.

In the blink of an eye, even before his leg had fully recovered, he was abruptly kicked back into his exhausting routine in logistics and finances, being bullied and ordered around by virtually everyone; and worst of all, to add insult to injury, the noodles, his precious, emotionally-loaded noodles that were the symbol of his most private hopes and dreams, had never came to be.

Once they were back in the demon realm, instead of providing him with a warm, intimate homemade meal, Mobei Jun had only resumed their daily beating sessions with renewed enthusiasm. He came into Shang Qinghua’s chambers every day at the same time, punctual as a Swiss clock, knocked on the door politely, and then elegantly roughed him up for about 45 minutes.

That wasn’t all that bad; it was absolutely sad to admit it, but Shang Qinghua was used to it by then. What irked him was Mobei Jun’s attitude after the session was over. He would stare at Shang Qinghua expectantly, as if waiting for him to say something, and then turn visibly frustrated and upset when all he got was a wave of pleadings for mercy.

He would then turn around and leave, without adding a single word, leaving Shang Qinghua exhausted and confused to no end.

That was the pathetic, emotionally constipated conclusion of Master Airplane’s idiotic hopes of a potential love life.

And if it wasn’t enough to have his personal life in shambles, his work life was also maddening: the whole business with Cucumber bro’s wedding was slowly draining the life pulse out of his meridians.

He didn’t give a shit about Shen Qingqiu’s love life, as long as he kept it to himself; he would never get used to Bing-mei and his everlasting simping. Shang Qinghua hadn’t even batted an eye when Cucumber bro told him, in unusual confidence, that he and Luo Binghe had eloped. Good for them. May they spend the rest of their immortal lives shamelessly fucking in the Bamboo House.

But then his ingrate, unfilial son had gone around and spilled the beans, thus lighting the powder trail that would incinerate Shang Qinghua’s life.

All it had taken was a single cursed word.

The happy couple had arrived to Qing Jing Peak for their monthly visit, and while they were swarmed in welcome by Shen Qingqiu’s many disciples, Luo Binghe had told his partner something along the lines of “Shizun, this husband will take your luggage to the Bamboo House.”

A simple, common phrase. But as soon as the word “husband” left Luo Binghe’s lips, the entire flock of disciples erupted in mayhem.

Ning Yingying squealed and nearly fainted on the spot, and good ol’ Ming Fan, true to his habits, instantly yeeted himself to Bai Zhan peak.

Not fifteen minutes later, Liu Qingge, his first disciple and a cohort of brute disciples had invaded Qing Jing Peak, leaving a logistical nightmare behind them to fix. Even the brooms of the stairs sweepers had been broken in half. 

The chaos was explosive; Liu Qingge and Luo Binghe nearly got into a fistfight like animals, to Shen Qingqiu’s dismay. Things got so out of hand that Yue Qingyuan himself had to intervene.

An impromptu peak lord meeting was summoned, and the news of the unholy marriage were duly shared with everyone.

Shang Qinghua still remembered the deep migraine he got from the amount of screaming and debating, and the deep fear that Luo Binghe would lose his patience and decimate them all on the spot after someone dared to suggest that their informal wedding wasn’t valid.

The meeting went on for three hours. Peak lords hardly ever got married, and if they did, they usually tied the knot with other immortals from the same sect, and only after following a strict set of rules and rituals. The whole process was dusty and outdated out of sheer lack of use, so nobody really felt affronted by Shen Qingqiu’s immoral disregard of tradition.

The problem here was the spouse he had chosen. 

Righteous cultivators don’t usually collide with demons, much less strike life bonds with them. That itself was bad, but the rotten cherry on the crap sundae was the nature of the demon in question.

Luo Binghe ruled over the demon realm. Despite being by all means an emperor, he still held the simple title of Demon Overlord. However, according to ancient demonic laws, if a ruler of the demon realm were to take a lawful wife, he would have to formally ascend to the throne, claim the title of Demonic Emperor, and crown his intended Empress.

Demons hardly ever married, limiting themselves to bonding and mating; the formal affair of marriage was reserved to the highest spheres, and when it happened, it was a big deal even for the lower dukes. If word spread around that master Luo had married, there would be an unavoidable uproar, and the fact that the bride was human, and a cultivator at that, could mean the start of a war between the demon realm and the cultivation world.

The consequences were so catastrophic that the entirety of Cang Qiong Mountain had unanimously agreed to keep Shen Qingiu’s infamous marriage a secret, under penalty of reclusion or even expulsion from the sect. All the peak lords, their first disciples, and all the children that had greeted Shen Qingqiu earlier that morning were sworn into secrecy.

So far, so good, right? Yeah, right. As if Fate would be that lenient with Shang Qinghua.

The information leaked. And in the worst possible way.

Not a fortnight later, the world was gifted with the newest masterpiece of Sleeping Willow Flower: The Demon’s Empress .

The booklet was the thickest, raunchiest work the prolific author had produced until then, and it spread like wildfire.

Despite the sects’ efforts to confiscate and destroy them, the books kept reproducing like rabbits; if a batch was taken and burnt to ashes, a fresh, brand-new edition would arise, and this time, it included illustrations so graphic that thin-faced Cucumber bro nearly had an aneurysm.

Needless to say, in no time both the demon realm and the human realm were well aware of the marriage, with all the consequences that everyone feared, and then some.

Luo Binghe was not particularly bothered about it. He simply stated that he was ready to follow the traditions of his kind, take the throne formally, and crown his Shizun beside him as was required of him. If any demon faction objected to the nature of the bride, he’d murder them all on the spot. No big deal.

Things were not so simple for the cultivation world. The union was disputed by most of the main sects and several of the lower ones, and soon threats of taking action against Cang Qiong Mountain for their disgraceful alliance with the demon realm fell upon all the peak lords.

So, in order to keep the peace, a long, tedious, mind-numbingly boring set of regular negotiation sessions began.

Yue Qingyuan, in his unending benevolence and inconvenient habit of protecting Shen Qingqiu no matter how badly he’d screwed up, wisely proposed both realms to take the opportunity to shatter old taboos and animosities and strike a marriage alliance between demons and humans.

The union would mean the birth of a new, stronger truce between demons and humans, fueled by the added support of the cultivation world.

By cleverly painting the shitfest as a blessing in disguise, Yue Qingyuan managed to accomplish one of the most difficult achievements any sect leader before or after him could claim: he initiated a diplomatic dialogue between two historically antagonistic nations.

“Diplomacy my ass,” had thought Shang Qinghua, while he distributed the memos of the last negotiation session between demon lords and cultivators. “Yue Qingyuan just wants the chance to walk Cucumber bro down the aisle himself.”

After months of tense exchanges, both sides finally signed the truce document, crowned by the signatures of the royal couple themselves.

The political part of the business was complete. Now, they had to tackle the most important detail: making a statement to the public. Both nations would be duly informed of the truce, and later on cordially invited to the historical event that would seal the deal forever: the official wedding.

Yup. A big, fat, multiracial wedding.

And who was the most suitable, experienced cultivator unanimously elected to plan the whole thing?

Take a guess.

Shang Qinghua screamed inwardly while he bowed and accepted his new position of unwilling wedding planner in front of demon lords and peak lords alike.

He still remembered the mischievous glint in Cucumber bro’s eyes, face half hidden behind that damn fan of his, when their gazes met while Yue Qingyuan talked about the tight deadlines they had to make the whole endeavor reach a peaceful completion.

One month, they all agreed. In one short month, Emperor Luo Binghe and Empress Shen Qingqiu would exchange vows and perform the wedding ritual in front of an audience of hundreds of thousands. 

Hundreds of thousands that would have to be fed, lodged, and provided for during the entire ceremony. Without even talking about the special treatment owed to nobility and politicians of both realms.

But peak lord Shang could do it, right? He’s a genius when it comes to logistics.

Fuck my life and soul! System, system! I’m begging you, come back! I forgive you! Let me escape! System!

The work overload that fell on his shoulders was so brutal it nearly drove him to jump off a cliff while hugging a 100 pound rock.

He had never bothered to take any disciples, but he was forced to select a first disciple and a dozen or so helpers to keep An Ding peak going; no matter how prominent the damn wedding was, the other peaks still needed to go on with their usual business and that meant distributing budgets, making repairs, and so on. Besides, Liu Qingge was in such a sour mood since the announcement that the requests for gate repairs and medical supplies were off the charts. It was too much for a single person to handle, no matter how talented or how dead inside they were.

After a week of intensive training that left both master and disciples thoroughly drained, Shang Qinghua finally dropped all the responsibilities of An Ding peak on the trembling shoulders of his first disciple and his terrified shidi and shimei, and fully devoted himself to wedding planning.

By then, he was thoroughly fed up with everything. The unending responsibilities, the constant demands, the ridiculous levels of stress and sleep deprivation.

All he had wanted was a simple life and a bowl of noodles. But it seemed even that was too much to ask for an underdog like him.

He was so burned out that he desperately looked for a way to vent his frustrations and blow some steam, and after a while, he found the perfect outlet.

Cucumber bro.

That damn hater dweeb was the sole cause of all his misery! While he was overworked to the bone and beaten up regularly, Shen Qingqiu enjoyed a life of luxury and leisure, tended by everyone around him like royalty. Damn, he was gonna become royalty! It was so ridiculously unfair it made Shang Qinghua burn with jealousy and resentment.

However, he noticed, things were far from ideal for his bro from other town.

As things were, the whole wedding business was seriously stressing Shen Qingqiu out. Whatever shreds of his reputation he desperately held were promptly shattered by the rapacious negotiations between the realms and the outstanding multi-realm success of The Demon’s Empress.

Even though he had fully embraced his relationship with Binghe, he suddenly found himself constantly addressed as if he were a noble lady.

For someone as repressed, heteronormative and thin-faced as he was, being called Consort this and that, future Empress, bride, lady wife and a number of other lovely epithets was enough to trigger yet another identity crisis.

So Shang Qinghua decided to make the most of his tiny revenge.

Despite Cucumber bro’s specific pleas to avoid overly fancy gowns for the wedding, Shang Qinghua took upon himself the mission of making him the most dashing bride that ever breathed in the history of the two realms.

He commissioned an entire legion of skilled seamstresses and tailors from all around the continent to create a wedding gown so overwhelmingly beautiful it would make its way into history books.

The project had greatly alarmed Shen Qingqiu, who was hoping to dress in a simple groom’s robe set; when he saw the first batch of twenty-or-so jiejie and meimei invade his chambers like a chattering tsunami, carrying fabrics, jewels and measuring tools, he nearly broke his fan in half.

He had loudly complained to Shang Qinhua and threatened to kick everyone out, but the petty scribe was one step ahead of him and nonchalantly told him he had the express authorization of Emperor Luo to move forward with the affair.

Cucumber bro’s face when he understood Luo Binghe had given the green light to that manic enterprise was something Master Airplane would cherish for the rest of his days.

Ha! Go convince that pervert now to let you wear a couple of basic robes. When I showed him the drawings of your wedding dress he was almost bleeding by the nose. Have fun getting measured, lady Shen! 

With that simple act of vendetta, Shang Qinghua had returned to his many duties completely refreshed.

He couldn’t suspect that Consort Shen would impart some very questionable knowledge upon Mobei Jun just a couple of days later.

Chapter Text

A shrill noise at the break of dawn spooked Shang Qinghua so much that he fell off the bed.

The sun was barely coming out, so the entire room was dyed in the ominous crimson tone of the demon realm’s sky.

The noise repeated itself, now echoed by a ruckus of similar noises; Shang Qinghua had only slept three hours that night and was so drowsy he couldn’t recognize what it was, despite it sounding awfully familiar.

It seemed that a hellish beast was wailing right outside his door. 

With an unsteady pace, still half-asleep, he opened the door and looked down.

It took him a good couple of minutes to confirm he had not finally lost it.

Before him, prancing around in total chaos were about fifty hens and roosters.

Shang Qinghua stared at the brood for a long time, mind blank, until the aggressive clucking of two roosters that engaged in a territorial fight right under his nose snapped him out of it.

What the flying fuck?!

“There they are!”

He turned his head, alarmed; a group of stable servants rushed towards him and the chickens. They looked deadly pissed.

“So it was you!” the head stable maid accused, pointing a clawed finger to Shang Qinghua. “What the hell were you thinking, kidnapping our entire flock? Do humans consider this to be funny?”

“I didn’t–”

“Then how come they are all right before your door?” interrupted another maid, baring her sharp teeth. “Do we not feed you enough, that you need to steal everyone else’s food? We’re behind schedule with the entirety of today’s meal plan thanks to you! Do you know how long it takes to cook the menu Lord Luo approved for Consort Shen?”

“I’m telling you, I didn’t–!”

“Shut it!” barked the head maid, turning around. “We’ve lost enough time. I will inform master Luo about the change of menu, and you will take all of these back to the pen yourself. And you better be done by noon or you'll answer to the master himself!”

She growled an order, and all the offended stable demons followed her away.

Shang Qinghua stared at them open-mouthed, until they were out of sight.

He then turned his head to the chickens and roosters, groaned in exasperation, and began chasing the creatures around to take them to the stables. He wasn’t very popular around the palace, so asking for help that early in the morning was out of the question. 

After a few minutes of futile attempts to herd the birds, he resigned himself to his fate. He’d have to carry the damn things in pairs until he had transported them all.

Still wearing nothing more than his inner robes, he picked up a hen and one of the most docile roosters and secured them under each arm, and gloomily began his first journey to the pen.

He was trying to hold back tears of sheer frustration when he ran into a column.

No, it wasn’t a column.

“My king?” he squealed, so startled that the birds almost flew from his arms. “What are you doing in the palace so early?”

Mobei Jun didn’t answer. He glanced at the chickens and nodded in approval, his expression determined. He bent over slightly to be closer to Shang Qinghua’s face.

“So?” he asked, voice deep. His gaze was strangely sharp.

Shang Qinghua wondered if his brains had finally melted under the pressure. 

“So what?” he repeated, flabbergasted.

Mobei Jun pointed at the animals.

“Oh, these,” said Shang Qinghua, shrugging. “I’m taking them back to the pen.” He considered retelling the bizarre scene with the stable staff, but decided it wasn’t worth it. It made no sense at all and Mobei Jun wouldn’t care about it anyway.

“You don’t want them?” asked the demon, between angered and disappointed.

“Why would I?” retorted Shang Qinghua, baffled.

“I see.”

Mobei Jun turned around and thumped quickly away.

Shang Qinghua stood still for what seemed like an eternity, confused as all hell. He finally shook his head and decided to just… move on. He could barely deal with his own bullshit, he had no capacity to endure others’ as well. He had a pile of stuff to do and an entire flock of runaway chickens to relocate before he could even start the scheduled suffering of the day.

He disregarded the whole episode as if it had never happened.

The next day, Shang Qinghua rose before dawn. He had an early meeting with eighty-seven potential caterers for the wedding and he’d have to analyze the proposed budgets, scan through the different menu combinations and choose the forty suppliers that were better suited to feed a demanding crowd of demons and humans alike. It was a dangerous challenge, as many substances widely consumed by one race were poisonous for the other, and vice versa. He had hired four experts in hazardous materials to help determine the deadly risks of the wedding dinner. He was not looking forward to making any mistakes in that area.

With those thoughts in mind, he sluggishly put on his plain robes, grabbed his many scrolls and accounting books, and walked outside the room.

A set of sharp fangs snapped mere inches away from his nose.

Shang Qinghua shrieked and jumped back, dropping all his documents on the floor.

A long, slithery red creature covered in white spikes wiggled in front of him, chomping a full set of teeth that came out of a grotesque head-like bulb.

“What the fuck is this!” he yelped, pressing his back against the door. Under the faint morning light, the thing looked positively eerie. It didn’t have eyes, but its bulky head produced a slimy appendix that stretched out and followed Shang Qinghua’s every move, as if it could taste the air around him.

A washerwoman walked by, carrying a bloody laundry basket. Shang Qinghua instantly called out for help, without daring to move his eyes from the creature before him. The demoness turned her head and went to him with a wide smile.

“Oh, so pretty! And they are so rare this time of the year,” she said, admiring the monster. “Where did you get it, master Shang?”

“Pretty? What the hell is this thing?” gasped Shang Quingua, still glued to his door in terror. “It was here when I opened the door!”

“It’s a flower,” the washerwoan said, admiring the spikes. “They grow in cold weather, that’s why you’ve never seen one around here. It’s too hot for them. Someone must have gone through great pains to bring it here alive.”

“Oh, won't you look at that!”

The demoness bowed deeply and went away immediately. Consort Shen popped out of nowhere and began walking around the plant, examining it with focused attention.

Shang Qinghua thought, for the hundredth time that week, that his sanity was about to crack.

“Cucumber bro, what the fuck!” he asked, picking up his documents. His hands were shaking. He dropped two scrolls for each one he managed to grab. “What the hell is that atrocity? And what are you doing, lurking in the hallways like a freakin' stalker?”

“I just happened to wake up early, that’s all,” answered Shen Qingqiu, absent-mindedly. “What a wonderful specimen. I wonder where he found such a healthy male,” he muttered to himself. The creature wobbled its head and bared its teeth at him.

“Stay away from it, it bites!” squealed Shan Quinghua, dismayed. He shuddered to think what would happen to him if people found Consort Shen with his face ripped off while in his company.

Shen Qingqiu raised his right hand and tapped a certain spot on the creature’s head. The plant immediately curled down in its pot and began making a hoarse sound similar to snoring.

“You wrote about this yourself and yet you don’t know how to neutralize it? Classic Master Airplane,” sneered Shen Qingqiu, waving his fan with an air of superiority.

“I wrote about that?” asked Shang Qinghua, completely taken by surprise.

“You bet your ass you did, it’s one of my favorite demonic herbs. I love it because it’s such a blatant rip-off of Super Mario’s Piranha Plants that I couldn’t even get mad at you when I read about them. It actually made me laugh. I’ve always wanted to see one in the flesh.”

“Cucumber bro, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about and I don’t care,” Shang Qinghua whined, exhausted. “Is it safe to move around that monster now?”

“It’s not a monster, it’s a flower,” Shen Qinqiu said, gently patting the horrendous head. “A male one, at that. They usually come in pairs. These flowers are half-sentient and mate for life. It is a pretty meaningful gift if you ask me.”

Shang Qinghua stared at him as if his bro had too lost his last marbles.

“This is an Alpha male. Are you sure there was not a smaller, spikeless one next to it?”

They both looked around and discovered a broken, empty pot a few feet away from them. Shen Qingqiu examined it. The stem had been chopped clean, and only a few mangled roots remained.

“Ah. I see. It makes sense,” mumbled Shen Qingqiu. “They were both males. I get it, but he shouldn’t have, they are highly territorial. I should have clarified that. What a pity.”

“Cucumber bro, I swear to all that’s holy and fucked that I’m gonna lose it over here,” groaned Shang Qinghua. “What the hell is the meaning of all this?”

“Did you not hear a single word I said about the symbolism of these flowers, like, two minutes ago?” Shen Qingqiu asked, impatient.

“I was too preoccupied with its teeth to pay attention to your geeky botany lessons,” snarled Shang Qinghua, fed up. It was too damn early for that.

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I keep this, wouldn’t you?” Shen Qingqiu asked, picking up the slumbering flower a little too eagerly. “I can take care of it for you.”

“You know what? You can eat it, crap it, and eat it again, for all I care,” answered Master Airplane, giving up entirely. “I have a very tedious meeting to decide what to feed to your distinguished guests in three weeks, and I’m almost late. See ya later, Consort Cucumber.”

Shen Qingqiu gave him the finger, got a finger in return, and walked away contentedly with his prize. 

He had raised a full collection of demonic carnivorous flowers and given the warm climate of the palace lands, that specimen was the hard item to get. He was over the moon and didn’t feel even slightly remorseful for the means employed to obtain it.

“Consort Shen.”

The deep voice startled Shen Qingqiu, but not a single muscle in his face twitched. He turned to a dark hallway as if he knew someone would be waiting in there.

“My lord,” he said, bowing his head lightly.

Mobei Jun emerged from the darkness like a pale ghoul. He stared pointedly at the plant dozing off in Shen Qingqiu’s arms.

“He rejected them too?” he asked, disheartened. Shen Qingqiu felt a tiny, fleeting pang of guilt at his disappointment.

“Not exactly,” he said with an encouraging, half-assed smile. “He didn’t actually understand the message. You presented him with two male specimens, you see. This one ate the other. All he saw was this lone flower, and entirely missed the point.”

“Oh. I see,” answered Mobei Jun, frowning. Such a stupid mistake.

“Don’t be discouraged,” said Shen Qingqiu. “It wasn’t entirely a failure. He could have gotten the wrong message, seeing a male plant killing the other. It’s a good thing he didn’t interpret anything odd out of it.”

Mobei Jun was startled. Consort Shen was right again. The last thing he needed was for Shang Qinghua to believe that punishment aside, his life was now being indirectly threatened. He shuddered to think how a message like that would impact the already poor opinion the man had of Mobei Jun.

“If you excuse me, I need to take this little one to a better-suited environment,” said Shen Qingqiu, taking his leave. “Better luck tomorrow, lord Mobei Jun. Don’t give up. I have the distinct feeling that your efforts will bear fruit in time.”

Mobei Jun bowed deeply to him and walked away, determined to make his next attempt a success.

The days that followed left Shang Qinghua on the verge of ditching his wedding planner gig, relinquishing his position as peak lord, and running away to the mountains to spend the rest of his life peacefully writing shameless smut for the masses.

Every single day he found a different item before his door, one more nonsensical than the other. It got so bad he actually feared leaving his room in the mornings.

Two dead beasts with entangled claws, tied together with red string. More and more “flowers”, all of them sentient and apparently hungry. A mountain of freshly skinned pelts, so fresh they were actually bloody, too thick and stuffy to be used in those domains where the heat forced everyone to wander around nearly naked. Entire baskets of food and sweets that, according to his hazard catering advisors, could reduce the human digestive system to a lump of goo in a matter of seconds.

No matter how much he asked around, nobody knew where those cursed things came from, and he was way too busy to add a private investigation to his unforgiving To Do list. 

He made a habit of jumping over whatever weird crap was left on his door and going on with his day without paying it any mind. The maids cleaned it up before he was back to his chambers late at night anyway.

The mysterious offerings came to a stop after one eventful night when lord Luo passed by Shang Qinghua’s door and tripped on a bag of dead, edible monsters, falling on his ass like a child in front of his generals. He had just returned from a particularly messy campaign to suppress those opposing his marriage and was in a rotten mood, and for some unknown reason, the monster bag triggered him big time. 

An imperial decree was issued the very same day: anyone who littered the grounds of the palace would face capital punishment. No-more-gift-bags-with-dead-monsters!

It was the first time that Shang Qinghua was full-heartedly thankful for Luo Binghe’s unpredictable temper. The nasty items disappeared entirely.

However, unlike the gory mystery presents, his tribulations were far from vanishing.

He began noticing that the demon servants whispered among themselves as he busied around the palace.

He ignored it at first; all his life he’d had self-esteem issues and always felt that when nearby people laughed or whispered, they were actually mocking him or bad-mouthing him.

Well aware of his own insignificance, he had discarded the intrusive thoughts; however, as time went by, he was forced to reckon that there was no mistaking it. If he caught their glance, they would giggle or immediately turn away; even the sturdy palace guards discreetly glanced at him as he passed before them, when before they’d paid him less attention than they would have with a mosquito.

What on Earth was going on?

To make things worse, Mobei Jun randomly strode back into his life after an unexpectedly prolonged time away from the palace, and he returned, how to say it… acting weird.

The ice demon, together with Sha Hualing, had been helping Luo Binghe control the political turmoil across the demon realm in time for the wedding. Despite the truce, many old-school rogue demons were still against the crowning of Consort Shen, so Binghe’s army had been busy. 

Shang Qinghua didn’t fear for Mobei Jun’s safety at all; he was more than able to fend for himself. On the contrary, his king's continuous absence gave Shang Qinghua a much-needed break. One less duty to worry about.

However, after a particularly tiring day, the minute he was about to get into his inner robes and lose consciousness for a few hours, Shang Qinghua heard a knock on the door.

He shuddered. He had instinctually learned to perceive that innocent sound as a bad omen.

“Who is it?” he asked, his voice cracking into an embarrassingly high-pitched tone.

“Open up.”

He flinched. He ran to the door and unlocked it with haste.

“Good evening, my king,” he greeted hesitantly. Aw, shit. He was back. Had he been under so much pressure on the battlefield that he had to come for an unscheduled beating session in the middle of the night? Couldn’t he find another method to blow off steam? Jeesh.

“Are you awake?” Mobei Jun asked, after staring down at him for a few moments.

What do you think?? I’m standing right before you! Did you hit your head during a raid?

“I am, my king,” answered Shang Qinghua politely. “What can this servant do for you?”

Mobei Jun pushed him in, walked in himself, and closed the door behind him.

“Ah, crap. Here it comes,” thought Shang Qinghua, resigned to his fate. He closed his eyes shut and waited for the first slap or whatever motion his king was in the mood for.

“What are you doing? Sit down.”

When he opened his eyes, Mobei Jun was sitting on his desk chair, legs crossed, staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

Shang Qinghua swallowed and obeyed. He clumsily sat down on his bed, right in front of the demon lord.

He was beginning to worry. Had he actually hit his head? He couldn’t spot any injury.

“What are you looking at?” asked Mobei Jun, noticing his gaze.

“My apologies, my king. I was wondering if you were injured,” blurted Shang Qinghua, unable to come up with a lie on the spot. 

Mobei Jun tilted his head almost imperceptibly.

“I’m not. Are you?”

“Ah?”

“Are you injured?”

What kind of insane conversation was that?!

“Oh. No. I’m fine.”

“Good.”

They stayed in silence for quite some time. Shang Qinghua was so uncomfortable and perplexed he began biting his nails. He had a sudden urge to wolf down an entire bag of melon seeds.

Mobei Jun cleared his throat and took the initiative.

“So. What kind of things please you?”

“What?!”

“Did you not hear me?”

“Yes, I did, but— my king, I don’t understand the question.”

Mobei Jun humphed and uncrossed his legs, resting his arms on his knees. He leaned down enough to be at Shang Qinghua’s eye level, which gave the latter palpitations.

“I want to know what interests you,” he clarified, choosing his words carefully. “What makes you happy.”

What makes me–

Shang Qinghua could feel the blue screen of death taking over his last surviving brain cells.

He had never been so at a loss in his entire life, and his other entire life before. What upset him the most, however, was that he didn’t know how to answer that question.

There was no way to answer honestly, at least not in a way he could say out loud. His interests, the things that made him happy, were all in the past. 

His webnovels, his dramas, his collectibles, his crappy apartment. His junk food. The ramen he got from that little shop around the corner every Friday night. His subscribers spamming the comments section. His hardly won independence.

He could mention none of that to Mobei Jun. And to be entirely honest, in this second life of his… he hadn't experienced many things that fit the description.

It had all been work, struggling, surviving, enduring. 

He shivered at the realization that he had been given the gift of a second round to live, and yet, several years later, he had nothing going on for him. Nothing to live for. Not really.

Ah, shit. Wasn't this exactly what he needed! A spontaneous session of self-loathing in the middle of the night, holding back tears in front of the one and only person he had ever wanted and that was, unsurprisingly, entirely out of his reach.

Seriously, what was with Fate and its perverse grudge against him?

“Qinghua?”

He snapped back to reality, completely unaware of how long he had been lost in thought. He stared at the demon, eyes wide and glistening with a wave of weeping he could barely keep in check.

Mobei Jun was alarmed. He noticed the sudden change and panicked inwardly, wondering just what new screw-up he had managed to pull this time. He seemed cursed to upset this little, fragile person over and over again.

“Are you okay? Should I leave?”

“No, no, stay, I’m sorry, my king,” stuttered Shang Qinghua, shaking his head to master some composure back. “This servant is very tired and has some trouble focusing. If you’d be so kind as to start already, so I can get some sleep…”

Mobei Jun frowned, confused.

“Start?”

“Are you not here to beat me?” asked Shang Qinghua, giving him an earnest, confused look.

Mobei Jun covered his face with a huge clawed hand and sighed.

“I’m not– I’m not beating you anymore,” he mumbled, his face still hidden behind his palm.

“Ah?”

Mobei Jun put his hands on each side of his body and stayed still like that, stiff as a statue, as if to prove that he had no intentions of manhandling anyone.

He raised his blue eyes and stared right into Shang Qinghua’s with a strange intensity that made him feel a swarm of badly-timed butterflies rumbling in his stomach. 

“You have no need to fear me,” he said, slowly. “Not anymore. I don’t… I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

Shang Qinghua felt as if time had stopped entirely.

“Then– then I won’t,” he whispered in a daze.

To his astonishment, Mobei Jun’s expression softened and the corners of his lips almost imperceptibly turned into a half-smile.

Shang Qinghua couldn’t think anymore. He couldn’t feel. His senses were numb. All he could do was simply existing in that moment, barely breathing.

After a few moments of silent staring, Mobei Jun cleared his throat and finally got up to leave.

Before disappearing into the darkness, he turned to give one last glance to his intended, who was petrified on his bed.

“I’ll come back tomorrow night. Wait up.”

And just like that, he was gone. And so were Shang Qinghua’s hopes of sleeping at all that night.

Chapter Text

Shang Qinghua spent the next day in a daze. He couldn’t focus at all; he kept repeating the outlandish scene from the previous night over and over again in his head.

By dusk, he retreated to his chambers, deciding to leave for the next day whatever tasks he still had pending. He barely remembered what he had done, decided, signed and approved during the last ten hours. It was a literal safety hazard for the wedding guests to continue working in such a state. He thanked all the holy entities out there that he had been able to wrap up the business with the caterers the day before. God knows what toxic appetizers he might have ended up green-lighting when all his functional neurons were working at full capacity to understand what the hell was up with Mobei Jun.

Shang Qinghua had never been able to fully understand him, much less predict his behavior. More than once, he wondered if that volatility was natural to the demon race. He had written the demons, of course, but he had trouble remembering; when you vomit over two million words in less than a year, you tend to forget a couple of minor details here and there. After all, his readers didn’t care much for demonic lore. They were mostly interested in what demons could do , if you know what I mean.

He had consulted his one trustworthy resource, the Proud Immortal Demon Way walking encyclopedia in the flesh, Brother Cucumber.

However, the damn poser had the gall to lecture him about it.

“You’ll never truly understand anyone in this world if you keep thinking about them as novel characters you wrote in a rush to meet an update deadline,” he had said, with that annoying air of serene composure of his. “They are people, like you and me. The sooner you get that, the better. Trust me, I should know.”

Pah. Whatever. Shang Qinghua should have known better than to go to him for advice. All he was good for was producing useless monster trivia on the spot.

Of course Mobei Jun wasn’t a character. Well, he was, of course, but he had stopped following the plot Master Airplane had written for him a long, long time ago. Since he had shown up unexpectedly on the eventful day of the Immortal Alliance Conference, he had consistently derailed from what he was supposed to do and say. Shang Qinghua didn’t know what to make of him.

As if that wasn’t enough, the guy had now done yet another 180° out of nowhere. He had said he didn’t want Shang Qinghua to be afraid of him.

Ha! As if!

As much as he drooled over the dreamy demon, every time Mobei Jun moved too fast around Shang Qinghua, he’d flinch. He was constantly on guard around him.

The infamous forgotten noodle promise had not made things better. He hated, hated to admit it, but the disappointment had pretty much broken Shang Qinghua’s heart. It was so humiliating. He was so deeply embarrassed by his own stupid hopes he had actively tried to forget the whole episode. Whatever closeness he imagined they had developed was mere unilateral fantasy on his end. 

Repeating all these things in his head was enough to calm him down as he waited for Mobei Jun in his chambers. It was late at night and Shang Qinghua doubted he’d actually show up, but he didn’t dare to go to sleep just in case. 

Against his better judgment, trying very hard not to think about what he was actually doing, he had changed the plain working robes he wore throughout the day and put on a slightly more formal outfit. He combed his messy hair, feeling stupid. What was he dolling up for?

He waited for a long time, struggling to stay awake, until he heard the familiar knock on the door. 

He opened the door timidly.

“Good evening, my king,” he muttered.

Mobei Jun nodded and walked in. Just like the night before, he went for the desk chair, but did not sit down. He looked at Shang Qinghua and pointed at the bed before him.

Shang Qinghua swallowed and obeyed in silence. He sat down on his bed and politely crossed his hands on his lap.

Mobei Jun stood still, studying him with a sharp gaze that made Shang Qinghua very uncomfortable.

“You changed your robes,” he observed.

Shang Qinghua almost choked on the spot. How on Earth could he possibly have noticed that? How did he know what he had been wearing all day in the first place?! They hadn’t crossed paths once that day.

Unable to come up with a coherent answer to that, he simply nodded. Mobei Jun nodded once as well, as in formal recognition of the fact, dropped his enormous fur coat on the floor, and ceremoniously sat down.

This time, Shang Qinghua did choke.

Mobei Jun was wearing an extremely formal attire, a deep-blue silk gown richly embroidered with silver patterns, and a full set of ceremonial outer robes ornated with pearls and nacre thread.

It was the kind of outfit that you only use once in your life, for the most formal of formal events, and then keep safe in your closet for the rest of your days, only to be taken out if the Pope or the President stop by for tea.

Shang Qinghua had never seen him wear anything other than his fur cloak and a pair of pants; he didn’t even know he actually had something so–

Oh God. No. No, no, no.

It was the wedding gown. The outfit he was supposed to wear to escort the emperor to the ceremony. The outfit that had cost more money than Shang Qinghua had seen in his entire life, and that was to remain absolutely pristine until the big day, because there was absolutely no budget, available labor or enough time to craft a new one.

What the hell was he doing wearing that to stop by his servant’s chambers?

He seemed to be somewhat aware that he couldn’t spoil the clothes, for he sat stiffly on the chair with his arms crossed, as if he feared that resting his hands on his knees would stain the delicate fabric. He wasn’t even leaning on the back of the chair. Under the faint glow of the candlelight, he truly looked like the stone image of a deity. Only the incense and offerings at his feet were missing.

“You look good,” he said, after hesitating for a moment.

Me? You! You are the one who looks good! What are you doing to me?

Shang Qinghua’s internal screaming stopped for a single moment when something occurred to him that would explain that irrational behavior. It was the only thing that made sense.

“I’m glad to see the robes fit you well, my king,” he said, smiling weakly. “I hope they are to your liking. I was afraid the sleeves would be too long, we can have them cut if you want. Do you need me to arrange any kind of adjustments? I’ll take note immediately and contact the emperor’s tailor first thing tomorrow morning.”

He started rummaging through the mess of scrolls and accounting books piled up on the desk, looking for his planner book so eagerly that he didn’t notice Mobei Jun’s face drop.

“There’s no need,” he said, with a sigh. “They fit well enough.”

“Oh. Well then. I appreciate your graciousness, but you needn’t wear them for my sake, my king. You could have summoned me and I–”

“I wanted– I wanted to wear them. Tonight .”

Shang Qinghua was at a loss again. He gave up. He simply couldn’t understand him at all. 

“I understand, please forgive this servant,” he said, bowing his head. Mobei Jun frowned.

“You’re too formal,” groaned the demon, shaking his head in frustration. Shang Qinghua was alarmed. If he got up and started roughing him up, the outfit was bound to rip and get dirty. He’d rather throw himself into a pit of lava than had to deal with that on top of everything else he had yet to do.

“I’m sorry, my king, I’m sorry! I won’t upset you again, I promise, just forgive me this once,” he started, bowing deeply. 

“No, I–”

“What is the proper tone my king would prefer? Say the word and this servant will–”

“Forget it!”

Mobei Jun suddenly got up, crossed the room in a couple of huge strides and left, slamming the door behind him. The motion extinguished the light of the only candle in the room, leaving Shang Qinghua in the dark.

He hadn’t had the time to move a muscle when there was a knock on the door again, so faint it would have been easy to miss.

Shang Qinghua opened the door cautiously.

Mobei Jun stood there, not looking at him. He said nothing.

“My king–”

“I’ll come back tomorrow night. Wait up.”

And he left hastily, before Shang Qinghua could breathe to speak.

To Shang Qinghua’s dismay, he kept his word.

He kept showing up night after night at the same time with perfect punctuality, giving Shang Qinghua a fresh set of palpitations every time with his odd behavior.

After the unexpected debut of the wedding attire, the demon visited Shang Qinghua wearing a different outfit; it was a fit utilitarian ensemble that seemed to be a good couple of sizes smaller than actually needed. The clothes were so tight that Shang Qinghua didn’t know what to do with his eyes to avoid accidentally staring at the prominent bulges and shapes displayed before him.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, that night he had thrown himself on Shang Qinghua’s bed instead of sitting on the chair, and chose a position so risqué it would have made a fine addition to any respectable Pin-up calendar. 

To complete the torture, he had engaged Shang Qinhua in what seemed to be a clumsy attempt at small talk, asking him about what chores he had conducted during the day. He even produced follow-up questions. He had never said so many words in the entirety of their association, and Shang Qinghua discovered himself making crap up as he spoke, because for the life of him couldn’t remember a single thing he had done before that hunk of a demon walked into his room to blind-sight him with his tightly wrapped body. Things got so bad Shang Qinghua actually gathered the courage to ask him to leave so he could sleep a few hours. The demon had complied, if somehow reluctantly, and as soon as he left, Shang Qinghua inhaled three bags of melon seeds without taking a breath.

These visits continued steadily; Mobei Jun would appear wearing a different set of flashy clothes produced from God knows where and force Shang Qinghua to engage in light conversation that usually made little to no sense, as the latter couldn’t focus enough to be coherent. Sometimes he brought random stuff with him; one night he had a full set of spare pens, blank scrolls, salty seeds, even blankets. He once presented a simple hairpiece that he had found on his way there, he said, and looked genuinely disappointed when Shang Qinghua’s couldn’t put it on given how short his hair was.

It was too much for Shang Qinghua to bear. He could have put up with it had it been a couple of isolated occurrences, but the guy was showing up every single damn night and he was a couple of nerve-wracking sessions away from having a stroke. He definitely had to address the elephant in the room somehow.

It took him three more night visits to gain the courage to bring it up to Mobei Jun. 

When the demon showed up one night bare-chested, with his hair in a ponytail, and wearing virtually nothing more than a pair of pants, Shang Qinghua’s sanity flew out the window in search of greener pastures.

With the raw, blind bravery born from complete burnout, he blocked the door so that the half-naked titan couldn’t invade his room and made him squirm on his seat for the next two hours, and then squirm some more miserably alone under the covers for the rest of the night. He was only human, dammit! One can only repress so many urges, you know!

“Please, my– my king, I’m not feeling well tonight, would you mind postponing our conversation?” he stammered, eyes fixed on the ground. 

“Oh. Very well. I’ll take my leave. Get better.”

Shang Qinghua was so relieved he didn’t catch the hint of worry in his voice, nor he noticed how immediately accommodating his capricious master was. He simply nodded in silence and began closing the door.

To his shock, Mobei Jun stopped the door with his hand.

“If you are unwell during the night, send a servant for me,” he said, as serious as ever. “I’m staying in the palace tonight. West Wing, first door. Good night.”

Shang Qinghua blinked in disbelief, feeling a turmoil of contradicting emotions swelling up his chest. 

He truly couldn’t take it anymore.

“My king, wait,” he pleaded, reaching out as Mobei Jun walked away.

The demon turned and looked at him, ears perked up.

“Why are you coming here every night?” Shang Qinghua blurted out, burning every single shred of courage in his body. “What do you want?”

Mobei Jun frowned, as if he were trying really hard to remember something. His face lit up and he slurred the English words with pride:

“Netflix & Chill.”

Without adding a single sound, he turned and disappeared in the dark of the hallway.

Shang Qinghua stood in front of the door, hollow and petrified. He clenched his fists so hard he almost broke a finger.

That– that– that fucking meddlesome dweeb!!

Chapter Text

Luo Binghe arrived from the battlefield at the break of dawn. He rushed through the bath; the campaign had lasted three whole days and he was eager to see Shizun, but he couldn’t show himself covered in blood and guts.

As soon as he was presentable, he put on a set of simple robes (something easy to take off quickly) and went to his chambers in a bright mood. He noticed there were no guards on the door; he must have arrived just in time for the shift change, which meant that he still had two hours before the kitchen maids showed up with breakfast. 

He was more than pleasantly surprised to discover that Shen Qingqiu was waiting up, wearing only his inner robes. His heart fluttered in his chest. Lately, Shizun was more tired than usual and would have some trouble waking up early, so he sincerely appreciated this small act of affection.

Shen Qingqiu smiled at him and raised his arms in a welcoming gesture. Without skipping a beat, Luo Binghe threw himself into the hug and shamelessly sat on Shen Qingqiu’s lap.

“Aren’t you a little old to be sitting on my lap?” Shen Qingqiu said, wrapping his arms around his husband’s thin waist.

Since the whole wedding extravaganza began, Shen Qingqiu had been subjected to an overload of embarrassing situations so wild that the last remaining bits of his thin face had shattered completely. He was finally maxed out. To the world, he still maintained his composed, aloof demeanor, but he hardly got embarrassed anymore when he was alone with Luo Binghe. After all, their private time was like a peaceful haven that protected him from the unnerving chaos their lives had become. And there was not much bedroom business left they could possibly do that could still throw him off.

That was marriage for you, he supposed.

Luo Binghe rested his hands on Shen Qingqiu’s chest and hid his face in his neck like a little child.

“I missed Shizun so much,” he muttered.

Shen Qingqiu was about to observe that it had only been three days, but why pretend to be cool? He had missed Binghe too. He was so excited to have him back that he could hardly sleep the night before.

“Welcome back,” he whispered, kissing his husband’s earlobe.

It was enough to fuel the fire.

Luo Binghe pressed Shen Qingqiu’s lips against his own and began undressing him with urgency.

Shen Qingqiu chuckled and followed his lead.

“Aren’t you shameless, Emperor Luo, doing this while still on my lap?”

“I’m doing this precisely because I’m on your lap, Consort Shen.”

“You pervert–”

The double doors to their bedroom opened with a loud bang, crashing against a decorative bamboo table and wrecking a jade vase against the wall.

“Wake up, Cucum… ber… bro…! ”

Shang Qinghua froze on the spot. Before him, a half-naked Luo Binghe glared at him with absolute disbelief, sitting on the knees of a too-half-naked, petrified Cucumber bro.

“You told me he was out,” muttered Shang Qinghua, shivering in terror.

“He came back early,” whispered Shen Qingiu, horrified.

Before Shang Qinghua could regain control of his frozen body, a crimson blast of spiritual energy sent him flying away. He crashed against the hallway’s wall and fell to the floor.

Luo Binghe, still half dressed, strode towards him, out of himself with anger.

“You dare run into my private chambers unannounced, cursing like a maniac, and disrupting my time with my wife?” roared Luo Binghe, his demon mark glowing. “You must be anxious to die!”

Shang Qinghua was so terrified he couldn’t even stutter the fervent string of apologies that he was used to offer. He was so dead. So very dead.

“Do you have anything to say?!”

“Binghe, come on. Enough. Leave him be,” interrupted Shen Qingqiu, taking Luo Binghe’s face with both hands and making him look into his eyes. “Calm down.”

“But Shizun–!”

“I know, I know. I’ll talk to him. He’s stressed out with the wedding planning, he must need my input urgently. For my bridal gown, you know?”

“Oh.” 

Unbelievably, Binghe ate that load of crap with gusto. He relaxed, and the murderous aura subdued. 

“Still, he was out of line,” he grumbled, pouting. He was visibly tearing up. “I haven’t seen Shizun in so long, we have so little time alone now, and he–”

“I know. It won’t take long. In the meantime, remember that… thing , you were so eager to try? Why don’t you go to our room and get things ready?”

Binghe’s face lit up when he heard that, and his tears dried before falling.

“Does Shizun mean it? For real?”

“Yes, yes. Go ahead. I won’t be long.”

Luo Binghe nodded enthusiastically and rushed back to his chambers.

Shen Qingqiu turned and helped Shang Qinghua get up. He was not injured, only shaken. The scare had made more of an impact than the actual energy blast.

“Dammit, Master Airplane, what the fuck were you thinking?” he groaned, patting the debris off Shang Qinghua’s shoulders. “I’m gonna kill you. Do you know for how many years I’ve managed to avoid that damn Immortal Binding rope?”

“Don’t give me that, bro,” whined Shang Qinghua, pushing him away. “I have a bone to pick with you! I’m the one who should kill you !”

“What the hell are you blabbing about?”

“ Netflix & Chill? Really, Cucumber bro? Really? ”

Understanding dawned on Shen Qingqiu and he couldn’t help his lips from trembling. He instinctively reached out for his fan to cover his smirk, but he had left it in his room, and retrieving it was not an option. He suspected the moment he got back in there, he wouldn’t be able to leave for the rest of the day.

“Shut up, someone’s gonna hear us. You’re lucky the guards are so freaked out by the commotion no one dared to come yet. Let’s go to the conference hall.”

“Conference hall my ass, there are too many people coming and going and I wanna rip you a new one in peace. Let’s go to my room.”

“Oh, sure, why not? Wait here, let me tell Luo Binghe you’re taking me to your private chambers. Just in case he needs a word with you later, you know?”

“...Conference hall it is.”

They went to the spacious conference room and Shen Qingqiu called for the servants. He ordered a breakfast of industrial proportions, so over the top that Shang Qinghua raised an eyebrow while he listened to the extensive list of dishes.

“ Inedia who , uh?” he jabbed, the moment the attendants left the room.

Shen Qingqiu shrugged.

“I’m gonna need all the energy I can gather thanks to you and your little stunt.”

“Bro, you literally don’t need food to survive.”

“I’m hungry, okay? Sue me.”

“That’s stress eating. You’ll get fat at this rate.”

“Good. Maybe if I do I won’t fit in that decadent bridal dress of yours,” seethed Shen Qingqiu.

“Cucumber bro, don’t tell me all of this was because of the gown because I swear–”

The servants walked back in and placed the abundant breakfast before them. Despite how much he tried to focus on his anger, Shang Qinghua couldn’t help but feel his stomach growling when the scent of food invaded the room. His cultivation was not as advanced as the other peak lords, so he was actually hungry. More than hungry, starving; he had been skipping meals left and right to the point where he had even lost weight. 

One of the maids respectfully handled Shen Qingqiu a fan. He thanked her charmingly and dismissed them making it clear that he and master Shang were not to be disturbed.

“You can’t live without that darn thing, can you?” observed Shang Qinghua, digging in with enthusiasm.

“If it were alive, it’d be my emotional support animal,” answered Shen Qingqiu, eating with equal eagerness. “So, my dear shidi, Netflix & Chill , uh? How did that one turn out? I’m dying to know.”

“Oh, you’re such an asshole!” exclaimed Shang Qinghua with his mouth full, spitting crumbs everywhere. “Why are you messing with Mobei Jun? Are you that bored, bro? Because if you are, I have a ton of very entertaining wedding-related crap I need help with, if the esteemed Consort has time to kill!”

“Why would you think I’m messing with him?” answered Shen Qingqiu, waving his fan leisurely. “For starters, he came to me .”

Shang Qinghua stared at him, chopsticks in the air.

“He did? Why?”

“He needed help with something.”

“With what?”

“I can’t tell.”

Shang Qinghua threw a steamed bun at him. Shen Qingqiu slapped it away with his fan.

“Don’t waste food.”

“Don’t waste my balls! Stop fucking with me, I’m serious. Mobei Jun has been acting weird as hell lately and it’s driving me crazy. What did he tell you?”

Shen Qingqiu sipped his tea to win some time. He had misled Mobei Jun a bit at first to bust Master Airplane’s balls, that was true, but after the imperial decree put an end to his hilarious gift-giving efforts the demon had been so afflicted by his failure that he couldn’t help but feel true pity for him. After all, he had a special weakness for pathetic men; if Mobei Jun had shed a tear or two, Shen Qingqiu would have instantly taken the part of a full-time matchmaker. However, given Mobei Jun’s reserved nature, all he could do was give him proper advice. Well, almost proper.

“Shut your mouth for a bit and listen, will you? I mean it, it’s not my place to spill the beans. He spoke to me in confidence and I won’t betray that. Let’s say that there is indeed something he needs to work out, something related to you, and he doesn’t know how. He asked other people, got no good answers, and then came to me. As simple as that.”

“As simple as that? You can’t just tell me that and not give me more details, bro. I don’t understand a thing. If it’s related to me, what the hell could he possibly want that he can’t solve on his own however the fuck he wants? It’s not like I have a say in anything. I’m his underling, for Pete’s sake.”

“Maybe he wants to change that dynamic.”

Shang Qinghua was about to refute him out of habit, but that last bit actually got him thinking. 

Mobei Jun had said that he didn’t want Shang Qinghua to be afraid of him anymore.

Shen Qingqiu noticed his hesitation and hid a smile behind his fan. He poured his bro another cup of tea.

“He’s a man of few words,” he said, serving a good selection of sweet cookies on Shang Qinghua’s plate. “It’s not weird that he’d be at a loss when he has to communicate things more complex than his usual repertoire of monosyllables and grumbling noises.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” interrupted Shang Qinghua, munching on the cookies. “I know you. Don’t try to weasel out of the main point here. He wants to tell me something and doesn’t know how, all right. He wants a change in dynamics, fine. How do you fit in that scenario?”

Shen Qingqiu groaned.

“I told you, I gave him some advice. You know, there are other ways to convey stuff other than speaking up, if a person’s not good with words. So I might have suggested a few symbolic ideas here and there…”

“Wait. Hold on. Are you telling me–,” he took a deep breath. “Are you telling me that all those awful, horrifying loads of shit that appeared on my doorstep…”

Shen Qingqiu gave him a full, cheeky smile.

“Did he?”

“Yup.”

“Following your suggestions?”

Shen Qingqiu shrugged with an innocent smile.

This time, a whole plate of cookies was catapulted to Shen Qingqiu's head. He laughed and diverted them all with his fan.

“You jackass!”

“Come on, it was all in good fun!” said Shen Qingqiu, dodging food and silverware. 

“Oh, sure, yeah, it was hilarious! You know what’s even funnier? The two additional outer robes I’m adding to your wedding gown.”

Shen Qingqiu froze.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, but I would, Consort Shen! I’m thinking big. I’m thinking shiny. I’m thinking layers and layers of tulle and a whole pattern embroidered with tiny bells that will chime delightfully as you drag your overdressed ass up the 500 stairs of the Demon Temple.”

“Shang Qinghua, I swear to God–”

“You wanna avoid that? Then speak,” Shang Qinghua barked. “What else did you tell him? What’s with the night visits?”

“Night visits?” Shen Qingqiu asked, surprised.

“Don’t play the fool.”

“I’m not. I had no news of that.”

“He’s been coming to my room every night, dressed either like the Queen of England or a pornstar, and spends hours and hours forcing me to talk about random stuff. And he keeps hoarding me with pens and blank scrolls and hair pieces I can’t use. It’s driving me nuts.”

Shen Qingqiu processed that information and cross-referenced it with the last batch of debatable genuine advice he had given Mobei Jun.

Oh. Oh, my God. It was too good!

Reluctant to actually get involved in the convoluted romance, he had fed Mobei Jun a list of overused rom-com clichés, under the guise of “human courtship customs”. Dress nicely when you go to them. Later on, it’s okay to show a little more skin, just enough to be sexy and appealing. Give them tasteful presents, something related to their hobbies, and of course, take the time to get to know them and learn about their interests. Take them out on dates.

That was the extent of Venerable Consort Shen’s wisdom about dating, taking into account his entire courting experience involved either running from a demon or running towards a demon or getting beat up for the sake of a demon or, in the best case scenario, receiving bag after bag of monster corpses.

However, he had to admit it was endearing just how literally Mobei Jun had interpreted those things, and how much effort he was putting to connect with Shang Qinghua despite not understanding entirely what he was doing.

“What are you smiling for?” asked Shang Qinghua, exasperated.

“I was just thinking it’s cute, that’s all.”

“Cute? What exactly could be considered cute about this shitfest?”

Shen Qingqiu humphed, losing his patience.

“Listen, Master Airplane. Mobei Jun is trying to reach out to you, and by the looks of it, he’s busting his cold ass to do so. I think you need to be a bit more considerate of him, don’t you think?”

“What more can I do?” exclaimed Shang Qinghua, aggrieved. “I welcome him every night, politely accept the stuff he brings, and blab about whatever he wants for as long as he wants! It’s not my fault he’s acting so out of character.”

That last bit irked Shen Qingqiu.

“Airplane bro, remember what I told you once?”

“You gotta be more specific than that, you say a lot of crap.”

“About you still thinking that we are in a novel.”

“But we are in a novel. I should know, I freakin’ wrote it myself.”

“No, Qinghua. We’re not. We haven’t been in a while now. This is not a novel; this is real life. Our life. And the people around us are not protagonists, villains, cannon fodders or love interests, they are just people. It doesn’t matter how you wrote them. They live and breathe on their own, they have their own ideas, they feel whatever the hell they want to.”

Shang Qinghua stared at him, a bit taken aback. His bro was completely serious out of a sudden, and it was not his usual badass act.

“Think about it,” Shen Qingqiu continued, serving the last two cups of fragrant tea. “See Mobei Jun. What do you know about him?”

“Well… he’s an ice demon king, he works for Bing-ge, he’s handsome and tall and strong, and stoic too. He doesn’t talk much because he’s so OP he doesn’t need to. He’s aloof and unpredictable, and has a temper.”

“That’s it?”

“I guess.”

“My point exactly. You’ve just described a novel character,” sanctioned Shen Qingqiu, pointing at his face with his fan. “All that was missing was a summary of his stats, skills and weapons and you could be talking about your Dark Souls OC. Don’t you think that there is more to Mobei Jun than that, and that’s he’s trying to show you?”

Shang Qinghua was speechless. He hadn’t thought it that way. He felt a little bad. It was true that he was out of his comfort zone and didn’t know how to react, but he had paid little to no attention to Mobei Jun’s actual words or actions all those times. Damn, he had just disregarded everything odd he did simply because it was OOC and he didn’t have the time or energy to deal with anomalies.

“Actually, I think that on some level you do know this,” continued Shen Qingqiu, encouraged by his bro’s thoughtful expression. “I don’t think you’d be so… attached to him if you didn’t. Fanboying will only take you so far, you know. If it were only that, you could be perfectly set with a bit of daily eye candy and a dakimakura . By now, I dare say you want more than that.”

Shang Qinghua flinched. After months of being strictly repressed, the cursed noodles jumped instantly into his mind.

It made sense. The noodles were not a typical trait of Ice Demon Lord Mobei Jun. So why was he so obsessed with them?

Because of what they represented. The intimacy. Sharing a meal with someone. Having someone care enough to do something handmade for him. Having someone meet his wants and needs. And that someone just couldn’t be anyone, no.

He wanted Mobei Jun to be that someone. And not Ice Demon Lord Mobei Jun.

Just Mobei Jun.

He had tasted a small glimpse of who that person really was underneath the surface of their scripted interactions, and it had warmed him up enough to abandon for good the life he had known before.

Why was he avoiding him so stubbornly now?

“I think I want to get to know him for real,” he muttered, inadvertently thinking out loud.

Shen Qingqiu smiled with a certain warmth.

“It only gets easier once you get to that conclusion, trust me,” he said, waking up. “Now if you excuse me, this master has an extensive session of marital BDSM waiting for him. Best of luck to you. Light some candles for me.”

“Wait just a moment there,” exclaimed Shang Qinghua, snapping out of it just in time to grab Cucumber bro’s arms before he fled. “Promise you won’t… enlighten Mobei Jun with your crappy advice any further.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” retorted Shen Qingqiu, shaking his arm free. “It’s been such an interesting pastime I’m reluctant to give it up. And given how you’ve burned your bridges with Binghe today, I dare say you have no more leverage against me.”

“You’re playing with fire, Consort Cucumber.”

“You have nothing on me.”

“I don’t? You sure? You seem to forget what a talented, prolific author I can be.”

Shen Qingqiu froze.

“Ah, yeah, you know what I’m talking about, don’t ya? Keep on with your little tricks, and I swear I will write a fic about you and Liu-shidi so depraved the Regret of Chunshan will be recategorized as a children’s storybook.”

“What– what’s wrong with you??”

“I can envision it so clearly: Sodomy of Liushen. ”

“You have actually given this some thought, haven’t you, you big pervert?”

“It’s a goldmine waiting to be exploited, bro! For some reason, that damn Sleeping Willow Flower hasn’t explored all that potential themselves. There’s a horny, willing niche audience out there waiting to be fed.”

“Fine!” cried Shen Qingqiu, hitting Master Airplane on the head with his fan. “Just– stop saying words. You’re giving me the creeps.”

“Pleasure doing business with you, my Empress.”

Shen Qingqiu groaned.

He was about to leave when Shang Qinghua jumped from his chair and intercepted the way out.

“What now?”

“I guess I just wanna say… uhm… thanks.”

“Oh. Anytime.”

“And… despite your jackassery… this was kinda fun.”

Shen Qingqiu graced him with one of his rare authentic half-smiles.

“It was. I miss it sometimes, you know. Speaking like an uncultured swine.”

“I feel the same, but you should watch your tongue. That Netflix & Chill crap was risking it too much.”

“Nah, it was just a joke with myself, I didn’t even explain what it meant. I didn’t think Mobei Jun would actually remember the term and say it out loud and in the right context by chance,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “It is cute, tho. Reminds you a bit of home, uh?”

“You should listen to your own advice, shixiong. This is our home now,” teased Shang Qinghua, moving aside and inviting Shen Qingqiu out with a deep bow.

“You’re right. You better remember that tonight too.”

“Tonight?”

Shen Qingiu turned slightly and displayed his best badass poser act to shoot his last comment in the most epic way possible.

“Mobei Jun is visiting your chambers at dusk again, isn’t he? Now that you’ve opened your eyes, Shang-shidi would do well to be properly prepared for the challenge.”

Chapter Text

The next day, Shang Qinghua woke up ready for war.

Brunch with Cucumber bro had proven to be quite productive after all; he had understood a couple of fundamental things about himself and Mobei Jun, and was eager to put his newfound determination to good use.

He still didn’t understand what exactly was that Mobei Jun wanted from him, but he had enough pointers now to better encourage him to be more upfront about it.

He had tried to remember as much as possible from their recent interactions to get a better standing, but the last three weeks had mushed into a messy blur in his head. Too much had happened, and he had been in such a constant state of simultaneous alertness and exhaustion that his memory was not safe to rely on.

It didn’t really matter after all. They could simply start over. 

Luckily for him, he didn’t really have time to get nervous about the upcoming night events. The wedding was one short week away and there were still so many details to settle that he feared he wouldn’t be able to sleep at all until the bride and groom had exchanged vows.

For starters, the first appointment of the day was a hair test. According to ancient demonic rites, imperial couples were required to wear a specific traditional hairstyle so complex only two individuals in the demon realm were qualified to do. It was unavoidable to make at least one test run. 

The imperial stylists were a bonded couple of ancient demons that had catered to royals for generations. Since there hadn’t been a recognized Emperor and Empress in quite some time, they were excited to be back in the spotlight in such a grandiose manner.

The royal couple was supposed to be tended to in separate chambers, but Luo Binghe had insisted that he and his wife shared a room for the session. He wanted to see Shen Qingqiu get his endless hair done at all costs.

He was so spellbound by the sight that barely noticed the struggles of the elderly demon lord to get his wild, curly hair properly tamed, braided, and secured under control into the intricate crown-like hairpiece.

“It is done, my lord,” the demon had announced at last, bowing deeply.

“How does it look, Shizun?” asked the emperor, eager to get complimented. He actually stood up and pranced around his wife, so he could get a good look of all his good angles.

Shen Qingqiu smiled, reading his intentions. 

“Husband looks so very handsome indeed,” he declared, hiding his face behind his fan. “So handsome, I can only hope to be worthy to stand by his side when the day comes.”

Shang Qinghua discreetly rolled his eyes. Marriage truly changed people. Now he was fishing for compliments too?

The obvious plot was overly effective. Luo Binghe immediately kneeled before his bride and delivered an enraptured wave of praise that made the entire staff around them blush and cringe hard. He then timidly kissed Consort Shen on the lips and left the room to attend to his abundant appointments of the day. He had a number of meetings with outstanding nobility from all corners of the demon realm that had come to present their respects and renew their sworn allegiance before the wedding.

Once he was gone, Shen Qingqiu motioned at Shang Qinghua to get closer. He did, taking the chance to low-key roast his bro.

“I wholeheartedly agree with His Highness. You look delightful, Consort Shen,” chimed Shang Qinghua, the mocking glint of his eyes only visible for Cucumber bro, who hid a sarcastic smirk behind his fan. “The imperial hairpiece fits perfectly with your natural grace.”

“Her Highness has been blessed with such long, silky hair that tending to it was a true pleasure,” added the elderly demoness stylist, carefully removing the ornaments from Shen Qingqiu’s head.

“Then I’ll arrange for the imperial hairpiece and the additional ornaments the madam selected to be taken to the imperial dowry room to be polished one more time. I expect to see you and your mate here at the break of dawn on the wedding day, madam,” Shang Qinghua said to the hairdresser. The demoness bowed her head.

“Yes, master Shang. These servants will take their leave now.”

“One moment, if you please,” intervened Shen Qingqiu, raising his hand delicately. “I would like to ask the lord and madam for one last favor.”

The elderly demon couple bowed at him instantly.

“We are at the service of Her Highness the Empress.”

“What might Consort Shen need?” asked Shang Qinghua, staring at him with an eyebrow subtly raised. Shen Qingqiu squinted his eyes, smiling without moving his lips at all.

“I would like you to treat master Shang’s hair as well.”

“What did you say?!”

Entirely ignoring his outburst, the couple immediately forced Shang Qinghua into a chair and began examining his hair.

“Too dry.”

“And thin. It breaks easily.”

“Betrays a poor diet.”

“The scalp is tense. There are signs of hair loss here.”

“Poor sleeping habits.”

“Salvageable.”

“Barely, but salvageable. Does the empress want us to proceed now?”

“Wait, wait just a moment–,” whined Shang Qinghua, alarmed.

“Your Highness, is this piece okay? There were so many of them I didn’t know which one to choose. I thought this was the prettiest.”

One of Shen Qinqiu’s personal attendants had suddenly appeared with a small, golden hairpiece between her claws. Shang Qinghua stared at it for a few moments until it dawned on him: it was the last of the many random hairpieces that Mobei Jun kept bringing to him.

“It will do, thank you, Chu Hua.”

“Did Consort Shen send someone to my private chambers?” inquired Shang Qinghua, shocked but still immobilized under the hands of the elderly hairstylists.

Consort Cucumber waved his fan gracefully, completely ignoring the silent daggers being shot out of his shidi’s eyes.

“Kindly use this ornament,” he said, handing the hairpiece to the demoness. “Does the madam believe it can be done?”

“His hair is very short and fragile, your Highness, but we will make it work,” answered the demoness with a toothy smile.

“It’s not every day we face a challenge, at our age,” added her mate.

“Proceed, then.”

The couple got to work immediately and efficiently, pulling and tugging and straightening without mercy.

Shang Qinghua bared the pain, frowning so hard his whole face turned into a wrinkly mask. He didn’t dare to get up and leave; it would be interpreted as disrespect towards the damn Empress, who was by the way enjoying the show a bit too much from behind his fan.

After about twenty minutes, both demons released Shang Qinghua’s skull and bowed to Shen Qingqiu.

“These servants hope the results are to Her Highness’ liking.”

Shen Qingqiu was so surprised he forgot himself for a moment and raised both eyebrows. Shang Qinghua knew his poser act so well by then that he instantly picked up on his astonishment.

“I look ridiculous, don’t I?” he whined, tugging at his bangs. To his shock, the texture was so smooth it didn’t feel like his hair at all. It usually had the roughness of dry straw.

“What insolence!” exclaimed the elderly demon. “Nothing we do looks ridiculous. We excel at our trade and have done so for the last five hundred years, child.”

“Please excuse my shidi, he means no harm. Chu Hua, please bring forth a mirror.”

“At once, your ladyship.”

The attendant brought a polished copper shield from Shen Qingqiu’s vanity and presented it to Shang Qinghua.

He gasped. He didn’t recognize himself. He looked… good. Great, even. His curly bird nest of a head had been tamed so skillfully that his hair had gained twice its usual length, now just long enough to accommodate the small hairpiece in a very becoming manner.

Shen Qingqiu allowed him a few more minutes to get familiar with himself by gently dismissing the hairstylists and his own attendants.

“Looking good, uh?” he said, once they were alone in the room.

“I wish it looked like this every day,” admitted Shang Qinghua, moving his head to admire his profile. 

“It would if you combed it at least once a month,” jabbed Shen Qingqiu mercilessly.

“What possessed you to have this done to me?”

“You have a big date tonight, don’t you? Looking good always helps self-confidence, or so I’ve heard,” Shen Qinqiu said, shrugging.

“Cucumber bro, get your head out of your ass. It’s not a date,” said Shang Qinghua, flustered. 

“Whatever you say. Just try to keep it nice and steady until tonight, will you? If that thing falls down from your head God knows how to reattach it. Now go. Have some lunch today or your breath will stink by night.”

“You’re really invested in this, aren’t you?” inquired Shang Qinghua, picking up his planner and scrolls. “You’re being so nice to me I’m almost tempted to remove one layer from your wedding dress.”

“Oh, fuck off already.”

With a mocking curtsey, Shang Qinghua left the imperial chambers and walked to his next appointment of the day in high spirits.

Maybe his dashing new hairdo had indeed given him a shot of confidence, because he couldn’t help but notice the discreet and not-so-discreet glances the palace attendants gave him when they crossed paths here and there. Proud of his looks for once, he puffed up like a bird ruffling its feathers under the sun and pranced around with steady feet. 

Despite himself, he followed Cucumber bro’s advice and was very careful with the preservation of his hairpiece, tried his best not to rush around so as to avoid becoming a sweaty mess, and even ate something at lunch. As a result, when he was finally done with the whirlwind of chores of the day, he discovered he was still in pretty decent shape. He was usually reduced to a grumbling, staggering, melted potato bag by the time the sun began to fall.

He retreated to his chambers, dropped his books and scrolls on his desk, and lit a couple of candles. 

The light revealed a parcel on his bed that he hadn’t noticed before. There was a card on it. He took it and got closer to the nearest candle to read it:

“Don’t fuck up! Don’t fuck up! Don’t fuck up!

Important things must be said three times.

Hope you like it. 

CB”

Had the dork really signed as Cucumber Bro? Shang Qinghua shook his head with an incredulous smile and ripped the delicate paper wrappings. 

“Whoa,” he muttered.

Before him was a brand-new set of robes. He touched the fabric; it was silky, light and fresh, a material he knew from commissioning wardrobes for others, but that he would have never ever dreamed of ordering for himself. 

He extended the outfit on his bed, separating each piece carefully. The leaf pattern was subtle and classy, nothing too flashy. It suited his tastes very well. Even a bronze belt was included.

Shang Qinghua teared up a bit. He had never owned something so pretty since he woke up in that darned world. It never mattered how he looked, nobody paid attention to him anyway. Moreover, as he admittedly didn't like himself that much either, he considered his appearance a topic unworthy of wasting time or thought.

“Now I’ll really have to take a layer off your wedding gown, asshole,” whispered Shang Qinghua, putting the new clothes on. 

He was so thrilled that he squandered candles for once. The room lit up, and he dragged the one mirror he owned from under the bed. He had stored it there because it bummed him out to see his pitiful, wasted image when he came back from work every night.

Now the feeling was entirely different. The neat hair, his flushed, rosy complexion born from sheer excitement, the perfectly-fitting robes. He-looked-good. He really did. His intrusive mind whispered that, compared to his usual looks, anything would look better, but he dismissed the idea at once. No self-loathing that night, no. He looked good, he felt good. He was so ready.

Or was he?

The realization that he had actually spent the entire day in a sort of weird anticipation shocked him. To make things worse, he suddenly felt as if he was actually getting ready for a date. The wave of self-awareness fell on him like a bucket of cold water.

What the hell was he doing?

He freaked out for a moment and was seriously considering taking off the robes and the hairpiece when a knock on the door nearly gave him a heart attack.

He was so not ready.

His mouth was dry. He took one last panicked look in the mirror to regain a bit of courage and went to the door stiffly like a man walking the plank.

“Good evening, my king,” he greeted. His voice was trembling a bit. He hoped the demon wouldn’t notice.

Mobei Jun walked in as usual, took a look at him, and stood still.

Shang Qinghua stared back in silence, so self-conscious he could almost feel every tiny muscle in his face struggling not to twitch.

“It’s not a date, not a date, you dumbass,” Shang Qinghua told himself, over and over like a desperate mantra. “You’re getting worked up for nothing. It’s not a date.”

“You look lovely.”

Not a date my ass.

Shang Qinghua felt a sudden stream of heat burning up his body and bursting into his cheeks. He cursed himself for lighting that shitton of candles. He begged that the room was dark enough to hide his embarrassment.

“My king is too kind. Please, take a seat.”

Mobei Jun complied and went to his usual spot on the desk chair. Shang Qinghua sat down on the bed before him, like he did every night. But the vibe was entirely different.

They were both silent for a while. As usual, Mobei Jun was the first to talk.

“Those robes are new,” he observed. 

“Indeed they are. A gift from Consort Shen. And this was Consort Shen’s doing too,” blabbed Shang Qinghua in a haste, tugging at his hair in a desperate attempt to save some face and justify his unusually well-groomed bangs. His ears burned when he realized that the demon might conclude that he had dolled up for him. “The imperial stylists came today and he had them work on me too. For fun.”

“I see,” was Mobei Jun’s only comment. He made a mental note to present a formal gift of gratitude to Consort Shen. The man was turning into some kind of selfless match-making benefactor in his eyes. “The hairpiece,” he said, pleased, noticing the golden ornament above Shang Qinghua’s small ponytail.

“Oh! Yes. With my hair like this, I can finally keep one of these in place.”

“Good. I’m glad one of them worked.”

Shang Qinghua shivered in realization. Had he been bringing so many hairpieces in the hopes of finding one that would suit him?

Fuck.

“I’m very grateful to my king,” muttered Shang Qinghua, overwhelmed. “I really like it. I’ve never used one of these before, so… I’m happy.”

Mobei Jun nodded once and said nothing more. His gaze went down to the floor and stayed there for a while.

Was he embarrassed? The Ice Demon Lord Mobei Jun, King of–

No, no, no. Nothing of that. Forget that. Just… look at him.

Shang Qinghua forced himself to raise his head and actually look at Mobei Jun.

The initial impact was the same as always. Impossibly handsome, dreamy, cool as fuck, worthy of worshipping…

But putting all that aside, he was a young man. Almost a boy. With little to no close relationships. Carrying an inherited burden of duty and leadership. And probably with no experience in how to make friends and whatever the demonic equivalent to dating was.

They were not so different. Well, they were, of course, but not when it came to the essentials.

He realized that, actually, they were all pretty much the same. Mobei Jun, Shang Qinghua, Shen Qingqiu, even Luo Binghe himself. Were they not a bunch of dorks in their twenties, making mistakes, playing it cool, and desperately trying to find their way in a world that was a little too severe and unforgiving?

He finally understood Cucumber bro’s words completely. They were all characters, yeah. They had powers, they could fly, demons, cultivators, whatever, you name it. But they were also people. Real people. With real struggles.

Was it really that difficult to connect?

Shang Qinghua knew what he wanted from Mobei Jun. All that was left was to find out what Mobei Jun expected from Shang Qinghua.

The demon dared to look up again and was surprised to see Shang Qinghua’s smiling face. He was looking at him in the eyes, which he had never done before. It threw him off.

“So, my king,” Shang Qinghua said, crossing his legs in a more relaxed position. “What did you do today?”

Mobei Jun blinked. It was the first time in his entire life someone had asked him that.

He realized he didn’t remember. His mind was blank.

“Today?” he repeated, hesitating.

“Well, yes. I’m always running around, so I never see you during the day. Did you escort lord Luo to his apointments?”

“Uhm. Yes.”

“Were there a lot of meetings? Consort Shen told me the lord’s schedule was packed until very late,” asked Shang Qinghua, encouragingly.

Mobei Jun shook his head, trying to keep it together.

“Yes. About fifty demon dukes came today, and we went out to visit another forty or so. It got tense.”

“It did?” asked Shang Qinghua, his interest piqued. “I thought they were supposed to offer blessings to the marriage and reinforce their sworn allegiances. I wouldn’t have expected anything untoward.”

“Most of them did. But others just used that pretext to get close to Binghe. We had to neutralize them on the spot.”

Shang Qinghua noted that Mobei Jun inadvertently referred to the emperor by his given name. He had always assumed Mobei Jun was just another lackey to Luo Binghe. Maybe the best and most useful, but a lackey after all. He wondered just how familiar they were with each other in private. Were they actually friends? How come he had never noticed? He wanted to know more.

“Are those insurgents under control now? I’ll have to remove them and their cohorts from the guest list. Would you kindly let me know their names when you have a moment to spare, my king?”

“No need. They are all dead. Them and their cohorts.”

Shang Qinghua yelped.

“I guess it was unavoidable,” he observed, shaking his head. “It was such a reckless thing to do.”

“Suicidal, I’d say,” humphed Mobei Jun. “They also insulted the Empress. Uncalled for.”

Shang Qinghua gasped. The audacity! Who dared soil the name of holy Cucumber Bro, blessed he be among the realms? Bing-ge must have gone ballistic.

“Lord Luo must not have taken kindly to that.”

To his surprise, Mobei Jun chuckled grimly. 

“You could say that.”

Shang Qinghua looked at him. Immortal demon overlord as he was, he had dark circles under his eyes. It occurred to him that being the emperor’s right hand during those convoluted times must have been a heavy burden to carry.

“You look tired, my king,” he observed, worry in his voice. “You should rest more.”

Mobei Jun stared at him. A hint of a smile drew itself on his lips.

“You’re one to talk. You never stop.”

“That’s not an option,” retorted Shang Qinghua, doing his very best to pretend that Mobei Jun playfully teasing him had not given him palpitations. “I’m used to it. And even if I wasn’t, there’s no time to rest. Perhaps my king hasn’t heard of it, but there is quite an important event ahead of us.”

Mobei Jun opened his mouth to state the obvious, but closed it without emitting a sound. He had noticed it was a joke just in time before saying something stupid, and was left at a loss.

Shang Qinghua regretted it. It was too son. Mobei Jun had probably never been the target of a joke before in his life. Fuck. Fuck! What was he thinking, taking such a liberty out of nowhere? What if he got offended? What if–

“I’ve heard a thing or two about it.”

Shang Qinghua blinked. And then, out of sheer relief and incredulous surprise, laughed.

Mobei Jun was startled. It was not Shang Qinghua’s usual fake, nervous half-assed laughter. He was genuinely laughing. He had made him laugh. Was he actually doing things right for once? Humans were so complex. No, Qinghua was so complex. Unlike Consort Shen, who was a still pool of calm waters, Qinghua was a constant explosion of different emotions and reactions so colorful and diverse that Mobei Jun was often overwhelmed. He couldn’t keep up. But he was trying. He had to. He’d been craving that warmth since he caught a glimpse of it, back then when Qinghua had threatened to leave for good.

But it was enough. Too much. Too much for one night. He was overjoyed by this unexpected progress and the fear of messing up and ruining it overpowered him.

“I’ll go now. You need to rest,” he said out of the blue, waking up. He moved too fast and hit the flimsy chair, which slammed on the ground and crashed into pieces with a ruckus that echoed in the night.

He bent over to pick it up, but the edge of his coat got too close to one of the many candles and the collar caught fire.

Shang Qinghua squealed and jumped over to him, patting the fur frantically to put out the flames.

Mobei Jun turned to him, distraught by the incredibly embarrassing display. He didn’t know what to say; he was not used to making a fool out of himself like that and was flustered and upset.

“It seems my king needs to rest too,” Shang Qinghua said, giggling.

Too much. It was too much for one night.

Mobei Jun went to the door and opened it himself, eager to leave while he could salvage whatever pride he had left. Shang Qinghua hurried to see him off.

“I’ll come back tomorrow night. Wait up,” he grumbled, daring to steal a last glance at Shang Qinghua’s face.

Shang Qinghua smiled and, unknowingly, said a few simple words that were enough to kill Mobei Jun off.

“I’ll be waiting.”

Chapter Text

Mobei Jun walked into Luo Binghe’s private study in high spirits. It was his last summon of the day, a short meeting the both of them held every afternoon to wrap up the pending business of the week and discuss whatever outstanding events needed immediate attention. After that, he’d be free to go back to Shang Qinghua.

The emperor looked up from the documents he was signing and smiled. Mobei Jun had the same cold, austere expression as always, but he knew him well. Something was different. He couldn’t help but tease him about it.

“You’re in dreamland again, General,” he said, dropping his pen and stretching his arms. “I’m sick of imperial decrees and urgent memorandums already. I could use a refreshing dose of bliss, but my wife is busy with the seamstresses. Care to share the joy?”

Mobei Jun took off his coat and dropped it on the nearest chair. He took a seat in front of the emperor.

“Your palace is scorching,” he grumbled, with a deep sigh. “You should move your quarters to a location with milder weather. I can hardly breathe here.”

“Nobody forces you to wear that thing all the time, you know,” said Luo Binghe, pointing at the fur coat. “And don’t change the subject.”

Mobei Jun humphed and began to pick a loose thread on the armchair.

“I’ve made some progress.”

Luo Binghe chuckled. He returned to his documents, to spare his General the embarrassment of speaking of such indignities while keeping eye contact.

“Glad for you. I told you Shizun’s advice would bear fruit.”

“I’m indeed grateful to Consort Shen. And I appreciate you suggesting I go to him.”

“It was a safe bet. Shizun’s never wrong. Besides, it was good for him too. The wedding schedule is taking a toll on him. I thought it’d be in his benefit to distract himself with gentler things.”

“Is he unwell?” asked Mobei Jun, sincerely concerned. He had grown to care for the Empress to be.

“I don’t know. He won’t tell, but I feel something’s off. I can’t stop thinking about it. I wish I could spend more time with him. I can’t wait until this whole business is settled.”

Mobei Jun was at a loss, but Luo Binghe didn’t give him time to come up with words of comfort. He seemed eager to occupy his mind with something else, at least for a few minutes.

“So, I understand Shizun had a fruitful conversation with your A-Shang yesterday as well.”

Mobei Jun raised his eyes, surprised.

“He did?”

“Yes. Sizun has a gentle heart, always drawn to the weak and helpless. And your intended is exceedingly weak and helpless, except when he barges into my chambers and interrupts my intimate time with my wife,” he jabbed, glaring at Mobei Jun. The demon chuckled, shaking his head.

“He’s full of surprises. It’s endearing.”

“You must be head over heels to the point of blindness to interpret that fiasco as endearing,” retorted Luo Binghe. “So, what kind of progress did you make? Have you marked him yet?”

Mobei Jun shook his head. Marking was a demonic ritual in which the dominant party of a couple left a bite mark in a visible spot on their mate’s body. It was the previous step to formal bonding, and it was a clear sign to other demons that the marked one was not to be lusted after, lest they wanted serious trouble with their mate. Daring to court a marked demon was a matter of life and death.

“Not yet, it’s too early for that. I want him to allow me to do it out of his own volition.”

“I see. You should at least imprint your aura on him and his chambers, though. Things are getting out of hand around the palace.”

“I know. Despite your decree, I still find courting presents at his doorstep when I visit him at night. It’s infuriating.”

“It’s your own fault he’s a highly-sought commodity now,” laughed Luo Binghe. “I’ve seen couples of younglings in the palace nursery move faster than you two.”

“Took you long enough too, didn’t it?” teased Mobei Jun, baring his teeth.

“My partner was dead for five years during our courtship,” seethed Luo Binghe. “What is your excuse?”

Mobei Jun growled in frustration. The news that the human scribe consistently rejected the advances of the great Ice Lord General had turned Shang Qinghua into the object of interest of the entire palace and beyond. News traveled fast in the demon realm, and soon the failed courtship had taken a deeper significance than simple gossip; demons began wondering why Mobei Jun was so set on conquering the human's affections.

Surely the man must have some hidden, outstanding qualities to have earned the persistent attention of such a distinguished suitor. Moreso, he was certainly far from being a weakling nobody if he considered even the terrible Mobei Jun unworthy of being his companion.

Some claimed that the scribe, being a cultivator, had immense secret power and that whoever made an ally out of him would be able to rise through the demonic ranks in no time.

Others whispered about the human’s skills in the bedroom, rumored to match and even surpass the abilities of the best succubi and incubi of the realm. Those rumors usually were followed by assertions about the immense virility of the scribe; the one lucky enough to share his bed would be blessed with abundant offspring.

Thanks to the increasing support and favorable opinion that Empress Shen was inspiring in the demon realm, humans were in demand; wasn’t their very own crowned Emperor, the strongest in demonic history, half-human after all? 

And more than mere humans, cultivators were so hot at the moment. It was said that Empress Shen had come back from death and even single-handedly saved lord Luo's life more than once. Demons admired power and epic feats above all; everyone drooled over the stories of Shen Qingqiu. Who wouldn’t want to be matched with such a titan? And Shang Qinghua not only came from the same sect as the Empress, but it was also widely known that he enjoyed Consort Shen’s particular favor. Mating him was a win/win.

Unbeknownst to him, Shang Qinghua became the target of demonic obsession, coveted by many within the palace and the outer lands.

Besides, whoever managed to win him over would be one step ahead of Mobei Jun, whose position beside the Emperor and top rank as first General was highly envied and often disputed by the high lords of the demon realm.

As far as he was concerned, Mobei Jun couldn’t care less about hierarchy, position, or whatever rumors were spread about him. What angered him grandly was the sheer number of undeserving idiots hungering for Shang Qinghua for all the wrong reasons.

His warmth, his relentless loyalty, the way his emotions were minutely displayed on his face, his bravery even though he was such a skittish little creature. How he pushed himself beyond his limits for the sake of doing his best. His innate ability to become such an ever-giving source of comfort even on the darkest day. Even the cute way in which he absentmindedly munched on those awfully salty little seeds of his.

None of that was noticed by anyone. 

He was Mobei Jun’s sunshine, and he’d be damned if he let anyone else take Shang Qinghua away from him.

“In a few short days the wedding will be over and you’ll have much more time to pursue him properly,” said Luo Binghe, encouragingly. “I’m sorry I dragged you around so much. Sha Hualing is at her limits and I want to set the peace definitely before leaving on my honeymoon.” 

“I don’t think I’ll have more time,” Mobei Jun answered, thoughtfully. “His stay in the palace is temporary. He’s bound to return to his sect once you’re wed.”

“Then you’ll have to make the most of the time you have,” declared Luo Binghe, shrugging. “Are you up to the task, Shuang Xue ?”

“I might be, if you let me go already, Binghe, ” answered Mobei Jun with a half smile, getting up without waiting for authorization.

Luo Binghe laughed.

“I hope you’re not as snarky with your A-Shang as you are with me, or you’ll never weasel your way into his bed,” teased the emperor. “Oh. Wait. I have to give you something.”

He produced a thick, leather-bound book from the depths of his drawers. 

“What is this?” asked Mobei Jun, taking the heavy volume. He skimmed through it. “The pages are blank.”

“I know. Shizun had it made for Shang-shishu, and told me to pass it on to you. He wanted you to deliver it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Me neither, but it doesn’t matter. Shizun knows what he’s doing, and that’s enough for both of us. Now go. Enjoy your evening.”

Nodding in agreement, Mobei Jun put his coat back on, took the book, and left the study towards Shang Qinghua’s chambers.

The night before, he had said he’d be waiting for him, as if he actually anticipated their next meeting, melting Mobei Jun’s defenses.

He pressed Consort Shen’s book between his claws as if it were a good-luck charm. For the millionth time, he wondered if he was actually up to the task.

Chapter Text

For a cultivator, and a peak lord at that, Shang Qinghua wasn’t exactly a spiritual person. His life was too busy, too bound to earthly matters to keep in touch with the ethereal spheres of the world.

However, that particular night, he had felt the need to meditate.

The day had been rough. The wedding was six days away and the stakes were high. He had finally, finally managed to cross the most urgent things off his list. The wedding gowns were finally ready, both for the royal couple and their cohorts. The caterers were on schedule with the food preparation, including the separate menus approved for each realm. The ceremonial temple had been renovated until the ancient stones were spotless, and the old palace ballroom for the reception was being cleaned and decorated with traditional imperial ornaments and a true legion of flowers brought from all over the continent. The palace guest rooms reserved for high nobility and other outstanding attendees had been cleaned and ventilated. The stables had been expanded to add storage space and room for the many different-sized transport beasts that were expected, including separate, reinforced stables for the more aggressive cargo creatures. The honeymoon had been thoroughly arranged according to the particular wishes of the imperial couple.

Shang Qinghua had organized the tasks in his planner so as to have at least three days off before the big day. Those three days were not meant for him to finally relax a bit, no. They were reserved to tend to the inevitable last-minute, unexpected crises that would arise.

This meant that he had only three days left to solve a pressing issue that he hadn’t paid enough attention to until his last conversation with Mobei Jun.

Unable to go into seclusion, he decided he’d make do with his own room. He sat on his bed, legs crossed, took a deep breath, and tried his best to clear his mind in order to find a solution.

It was no easy feat. Among the perpetual tornado of things he was always thinking about, there were a couple of problems that had him worried.

Cucumber bro was problem number one.

He had noticed Shen Qingqiu had begun procrastinating his wedding-related obligations more and more often. The situation had escalated when an attendant called for Shang Qinghua in a panic, as the seamstresses were crowded by Consort’s Shen door, waiting for his authorization to come in, but twenty minutes had passed and there was still no answer. Shang Qinghua rushed there, fearing something had happened to him; he fervently hoped the bastard hadn’t pulled one of his classic, unexpected deaths on him, because he swore to revive him only to kill him again on the spot.

When he slammed the door open without ceremony, he found Cucumber bro sitting by the window, idly fanning himself. He was honestly startled by the sudden intrusion; he had heard the knock on the door, he said, but he had forgotten to answer.

Since then, Shang Qinghua had paid close attention to his bro. He was acting a bit strange. He was overly tired for an immortal cultivator. He ate a lot, more than possibly needed, and was becoming so clingy with his husband that one would think he suffered from separation anxiety.

That brought forth problem number two: Luo Binghe. A guy so obsessively attentive to his partner’s every move would absolutely notice something was not quite right. The emperor was so worried about it that Shang Qinghua feared he’d stress himself into a qi deviation. Despite Shen Qingqiu’s needy phase and Luo Binghe’s overprotectiveness, Shang Qinghua was convinced that the best course of action was to have them separated until the wedding day, so he could deal with Cucumber bro’s freakout in peace without the looming threat of Luo Binghe’s anxious breath on the back of his neck. The sole idea of proposing such a thing to them had reduced him to a  nervous wreck.

Problem number three, the wedding ceremony. A last visit to Cang Qiong Mountain was near, and a set of heavy conversations were scheduled. He wouldn’t have dreamed that this part of the process would turn into a problem, but alas, there they were. Cucumber bro’s volatile mental state was not to be trusted, and there was no way of predicting how the whole business would end. He was seriously considering sending a private letter to Yue Qingyuan, to put him on alert, but Shen Qingiu had begged to let him do the talking. It was a delicate matter that they’d have to settle in private. 

And finally, the urgent issue that had his stomach in knots, problem number four–

A knock on the door.

Ah, damn. He didn’t know how much time he had spent in his improvised meditation session, but not only hadn’t he found any solutions, he had triggered a migraine by dwelling on all the other unsolved business in his hands.

He groaned and went to greet his visitor.

“Evening, my king,” he said, smiling faintly. “Come in.”

Mobei Jun walked in and immediately dropped his coat on the ground. He seemed flustered.

“Are you unwell, my lord?” asked Shang Qinghua, alarmed, noticing the faint drops of sweat on his forehead.

“These lands are exceedingly warm,” he complained, taking his usual seat. “I asked lord Luo to relocate the palace, but he refused.”

Shang Qinghua giggled.

“That was quite the request, my king.”

“Worth trying.”

Shang Qinghua sat on the bed and pressed his temples with a frown. The headache was acting up. 

“Are you in pain?” asked Mobei Jun, worried.

“Just a bit. This silly servant thought too hard about certain things and upset his head.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Mobei Jun raised his right hand and placed his palm on Shang Qinghua’s forehead.

“My– my king–” stuttered Shang Qinghua, startled. Mobei Jun’s palm was so big it covered half his face.

Before he could add another word, he felt a soothing, mild coolness over his eyes. It was refreshing and gentle, and the relief was almost immediate. 

“Better?” asked Mobei Jun, greatly enjoying the moment. Shang Qinghua had closed his eyes and his long eyelashes trembled against Mobei Jun’s skin. It was something he had never felt before, and he made a very conscious effort to memorize the feeling.

“It is better, yes, thank you,” muttered Shang Qinghua, sighing in relief. “I’m sorry for troubling my king. I will ask a servant for a cold compress later.”

“No need to call anyone,” answered Mobei Jun immediately. As things were, it was a very possible risk that someone with ill intentions would respond to the call, bearing something other than cold compresses. The sole thought made his stomach turn. “If your head hurts again, call for me. I’ll do this as many times as you need.”

“I couldn’t possibly–”

“Promise me, Qinghua.”

Shang Qinghua swallowed hard. He gathered some courage and gently pushed Mobei Jun’s hand away to look him in the eyes.

“I promise.”

Mobei Jun held his breath. He nodded rapidly in agreement and turned his gaze away.

“What worried you so much that you gave yourself a headache?”

“Something you said last night, my king.”

Mobei Jun frowned. Shang Qinghua took one of the books on his desk and opened a page bookmarked with a piece of fabric.

“You said that many of the nobles you and lord Luo visited pretended to pledge allegiance to the emperor just to get a chance to be near him and strike,” started Shang Qinghua, showing the demon a rudimentary, two-page map. “This shows the ritual path Consort Shen has to cover by feet from the palace to the Temple where lord Luo will be waiting.”

“You did this?” asked Mobei Jun, impressed. 

“Yes, I needed to estimate how much time it would take Consort Shen to reach the Temple, to prevent any attempts against his life. After what you told me, I’m worried the palace guards that will be standing on each side of the path will be insufficient to secure the Consort's pilgrimage.”

Mobei Jun thought for a few moments.

“You think there will be assassins hidden in the crowd? Hidden as attendees.”

“Correct. And even though Consort Shen can defend himself well enough, any attempts against him during the bridal pilgrimage would certainly start a riot. I’d much rather we avoided that, but I’m not sure how.”

Mobei Jun’s face was serious, but his heart was racing. What a splendid chance to show off in front of Qinghua! He had to take a few controlled breaths to calm down his eagerness.

“I’ll take care of that,” he declared gallantly. “You don’t need to worry.”

“My king, I wouldn’t dare to impose–” began Shang Qinghua, alarmed.

“I said I’ll do it,” insisted Mobei Jun, disregarding Shang Qinghua’s dismay. “I have my own army. They’ll infiltrate the crowds as attendees and be alert. Any attempt against Consort Shen will be repressed immediately.”

Shang Qinghua stared at him, speechless. To further his bewilderment, Mobei Jun smiled at him. He seemed proud. 

“My king, you’ll be escorting lord Luo all day, are you absolutely sure this will not be too much of a burden? This servant–”

“Enough of that,” interrupted Mobei Jun, leaning towards him.

“My king?”

“No more calling yourself a servant. You have a name. And you’re not my servant,” mumbled Mobei Jun, making a clear effort to say the right words.

“Then– what am I?” asked Shang Qinghua, in a daze. The demon was shaken by the question.

“You’re mine,” blurted Mobei Jun, almost involuntarily.

Shang Qinghua blinked. Mobei Jun blinked back, horrified. Again, he had spoken without thinking. He meant something deeply sentimental, so raw and honest that his ears were burning in shame, but at the same time, he realized Shang Qinghua would probably interpret it as being categorized as an item of property.

Shang Qinghua’s face was burning red, and he had bent over the book in an effort to hide it.

“Very well, my king,” he said in a tiny voice. “I meant to say I can take care of it. I don’t want to trouble you further.”

“You won’t. I want to help you,” answered the demon awkwardly, grateful that Shang Qinghua had kindly ignored his blunder. 

In an effort to salvage the situation, Mobei Jun cleared his throat and went back to the main topic.

“I believe there should be human infiltrates as well. If a human tries to attack Consort Shen and a demon neutralizes them, it could spur political conflict.”

Shang Qinghua emerged from the book. The observation had made him forget his embarrassment.

“You are absolutely right,” he exclaimed, quickly taking notes on his planner. Mobei Jun’s quick understanding of the situation and accurate suggestions had him lost in wonder. As he scribbled the details he’d need to sort later, he realized just how wrong he had been about Mobei Jun. He always thought Luo Binghe kept him by his side because he was a titanic mass of murderous muscle, but let’s be real, whose ass couldn’t Luo Binghe kick on his own? If he chose a second in command, a person of trust, it had to be more than a brute tank. He’d choose someone who was like him, cunning, smart, a tactician. 

Sha Hualing was his fighting dog. Mobei Jun was a kindred mind.

Shang Qinghua was so proud of him. It was a first for him, being proud of another. Used as he was to rely on his own wits, he relished the sentiment. It was a genial feeling.

“Brilliant,” he whispered without noticing.

Mobei Jun heard it. He was so pleased with Shang Qinghua’s reaction that wanted to have more brilliant ideas. He squeezed his brains.

“It would be best if the human infiltrates were cultivators from Consort Shen’s sect,” he added, with an enthusiasm that threw Shang Qinghua off the tracks. His expression was lively and focused, unlike the usual frozen mask he put on all the time. Shang Qinghua was staring at him so intently he could barely follow what the demon said. “Having sect siblings defending the Empress would dissipate any potential claims. Nobody would object to their intentions.”

“I could ask Bai Zhan Peak to take over the operation,” said Shang Qinghua, thinking out loud. Mobei Jun tilted his head.

“Are they competent fighters?” he asked, doubtful. He had a very rough idea of the inner distribution of Cang Qiong Mountain, but he couldn’t remember the many fancy-named peaks in detail. All he knew for sure were An Ding Peak and Qing Jing Peak.

“They are the best warriors of the sect,” confirmed Shang Qinghua. “But there may be a problem with the peak lord. He might be reluctant to cooperate. I’ll have to anticipate our visit to Cang Qiong Mountain to have time to find an alternative in case he refuses.”

Mobei Jun raised an eyebrow, confused.

“Why would he refuse?”

Shang Qinghua smiled and gave him an apologetic look.

“The peak lord of Bai Zhan Peak is Liu Qingge. I expect my king has heard of him.”

Mobei Jun was taken aback. He had, indeed, heard of him. Many, many, many times. He had heard his name combined with every possible demonic curse word under the moon.

“The one who covets the Empress,” he said, his face hardened with disdain.

“That’s not exactly official,” observed Shang Qinghua, shaking his head with a smile. “But I’ll admit there’s quite a number of people who think it is.”

“Why else would he refuse to cooperate?” pressed Mobei Jun, his mouth twisted in a scowl. 

“He does not endorse the union, is all,” said Shang Qinghua carefully. It would not do to be too frank about certain things and add fuel to the fire. No need to stir Luo Binghe's jealousy any further.

“Would he rather have Consort Shen be in danger than grant his blessing?”

Ugh! A straight shot into Master Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky’s tender author heart. Such a great premise for a tragic lovelorn story! He cursed himself for promising Cucumber bro that he wouldn’t indulge in the creation of Sodomy of Liushen. It was gold, I tell ya! Pure gold!

“Liu-shidi means well deep down,” said Shang Qinghua. “There’s a good chance he’d agree, as long as Consort Shen asks himself. I’ll talk to him tomorrow morning.”

They were silent for a few moments, as if their productive brainstorming session had exhausted them. They looked at each other timidly.

Mobei Jun’s gaze on him was so devoted that Shang Qinghua couldn’t help but become a flustered mess again. He diverted his eyes, and spotted a brand-new leather-bound book on his desk.

“Did my king bring that?” he asked, perplexed. It was not one of his many accounting books. It looked too fancy for such a mundane purpose.

Mobei Jun took the volume and gave it to Shang Qinghua carefully, trying his best not to rip the leather cover with his claws.

“It’s from Consort Shen. It’s blank. I do not understand its purpose,” said Mobei Jun.

However, Shanq Qinghua did. He spotted a tiny message scribbled on the top right corner of the very last page:

This book is a conversation starter.

Under no circumstances does my involvement in the development of this gift imply agreement or authorization of any nature to the potential creation of any form of written prose that features me or any person of my knowledge, demon or human, real or imaginary, engaging in morally or ethically questionable activities. 

Write what you want for once.

CB

That cursed dweeb! It was the second time Shang Qinghua teared up at one of his presents. That was it. He’d arrange for a whole outer robe to be discarded from the wedding gown.

Mobei Jun noticed his emotion and was completely lost. Why was he crying over an empty book?

“Is this a bad omen?” he risked doubtfully.

“Oh, no. Not at all. It’s a wonderful present,” explained Shang Qinghua, wiping his eyes in embarrassment. “It’s meant for me to write.”

“But you have a lot of paper already,” said Mobei Jun, pointing at the mountain of accounting books and scrolls piled up on Shang Qinghua’s desk. Many of those he had brought himself.

“It’s different. Those are just work tools. This book…,” he sighed, touching the smooth, high-quality paper. “This book is for me to write whatever I want.”

Mobei Jun was still confused.

“Why?” he asked, in complete earnest. 

His tone made Shang Qinghua realize that Mobei Jun had no idea of his past. Nobody did but Cucumber bro.

“Before I joined Cang Qiong Mountain’s sect, I used to be a writer,” he declared, speaking slowly and choosing his words very carefully. He discovered he felt a hollow ache in his chest, a burning need to talk about this with the man in front of him.

Mobei Jun raised his eyebrows in surprise. 

“What did you write?” he asked, interested.

Ah, what a heavily loaded question! And coming from him, of all people! Shang Qinghua felt his heart beating so hard it was beginning to hurt him. 

Not only could he absolutely not tell Mobei Jun about Proud Immortal Demon Way, for obvious reasons. Even if he dared, he didn’t want to. It was nothing to be proud of.

Writing an endless novel that was 80% raw smut, changing the plot to follow the flow of the capricious comments section, sacrificing meaningful conceptual development in favor of a quick pace and shallow resolutions. He had ended up vomiting a narrative so shitty it had come to life and swallowed two different people to fix itself.

Actually, only one of them had been summoned to turn the crappy story into a worthy tale. Cucumber bro had taken care of that, only using his help when he had absolutely no other choice.

He still wasn’t sure why the System had summoned him. It’s not like he changed anything. He tried not to think about that very often, because it was too much of a burden in his heart. 

“I wrote stories,” he said simply, with a sad smile. “But I never wrote what I really wanted. I wrote to survive, so I had to… cater to the tastes of my readers.”

Mobei Jun leaned closer to him, entirely focused on his words. This was wholly new to him on so many levels; Shang Qinghua’s act of trust in confiding his past to him, the intimacy they were slowly developing. He held his breath, fearing to break the spell.

“Have I maybe read one of your books?” the demon asked, unsure of how to encourage him to go on.

Shang Qinghua snorted and shook his head.

“I’m certain you haven’t, and I’m thankful for that, my king,” he said with disdain. “It was nothing worth your time.”

Mobei Jun chose not to pressure him further on the topic, for he looked positively upset; he quickly changed the direction of the conversation without abandoning the topic.

“Then what would you like to write?” he asked.

Shang Qinghua gave it some thought. 

“Something epic,” he said, slowly. “Something that makes the reader think for days after finishing a chapter. I want to explore deep topics too.”

“Deep?”

“Yes. Like grief. And fear, perceived self-value, and what makes someone move forth when they are at the end of their strenght. And the nature of true love,” he admitted, a little embarrassed. “Although that would be a bit difficult, given I have no knowledge of that particular subject matter.”

“You can learn,” said Mobei Jun quietly, taking one of Shang Qinghua’s hands on his own. He looked him in the eyes.

“I– I can?” stuttered Shang Qinghua, taken by surprise. He felt his face burn again. What was going on?

“If you want,” answered Mobei Jun, closing his hand around Shang Qinghua’s fingers.

“What– what I want–” mumbled Shang Qinghua, his heart beating so fast and hard he could almost hear it.

“What you want, you can have,” continued Mobei Jun, voice strained with anticipation. ”Just ask.”

Shang Qinghua stared at him, eyes unblinking, mouth half-open. Mobei Jun’s expression was unmistakable. Shang Qinghua was dense, he knew he was, but one had to be purposedly stupid to misunderstand his words, his tone, the way his eyes were glowing, the fast pace of his breathing. Shang Qinghua was overwhelmed, entirely taken in a way he had never felt in his life, and lost control over himself. The words came out of his mouth before he could even think about them.

“I want noodles.”

Mobei Jun stood still, staring at him.

“Noodles,” he repeated, slowly.

Shang Qinghua nodded vehemently, unable to restrain himself anymore.

“You promised you’d make them for me. And you didn’t,” he blurted out, tearing up. “You didn’t, and then you went back to beating me every day instead.”

Mobei Jun flinched, taken aback. It was true. In the joy of the moment, when he and Qinghua had reunited, he had said he’d cook for him. However, he got so excited to resume his courtship of Shang Qinghua now that he had an inkling of hope that his affections might be reciprocated, that he had completely forgotten about it. Qinghua had never mentioned it again, probably intimidated by the regular sessions of what he believed was punishment.

If there had been a cliff nearby, he would have run to it and jumped down, and this time he wouldn’t let Shang Qinghua come flying to save him.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to say, desperate to make things right. “I forgot, I–”

“Of course you forgot, why wouldn’t you?” snapped Shang Qinghua, releasing his hand from the grip of Mobei Jun. “I just don’t understand you. You make me think I might have a reason to hope, then go back to treating me like a servant, and less than a servant, a dog! And when I made my peace with that, you start being nice to me again, and I can’t take it anymore!”

The tears were flowing freely now, and Shang Qinghua gave up trying to hold them in. Everything he had been repressing took over him; his unrequited love, his broken hopes, his loneliness, the exhaustion, fear, anger, longing, everything. He let it all go, and if Mobei Jun didn’t like it, then too bad for him. 

“Mobei Jun, you can’t keep playing with me anymore. I can’t bear it,” he sobbed, shaking his head. “I'm not made of stone. I think it’s clear how I feel about you, there’s no point in hiding it now. Either give me a clear answer, or leave me the hell alone.”

Mobei Jun, who had listened to him in petrified silence, snapped out of it when he heard that last plea.

“You– how you feel for me–” he repeated, incredulous. He didn't dare to believe what that truly meant.

“Do you need me to spell it out for you?” Shang Qinghua exclaimed, exasperated. “Just how much do you enjoy watching me squirm?”

“No! Qinghua, no,” Mobei Jun cried, holding both of Shang Qinghua’s hands in his own. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to hurt you. I never did.”

“Yeah, right! You beat me three times a day and dragged me around like a sack of potatoes–”

“That’s how demons court their intended mates.”

“What?” Shang Qinghua yelped, so shocked his weeping stopped.

“Remember when Binge asked us how to get Consort Shen to understand his intentions? What did I say then?”

Shang Qinghua’s brain was turning and twisting so hard smoke nearly came out of his ears. His gaze was blank.

“Beat them lightly three times a day,” he recited, like an answering machine. Mobei Jun nodded energetically. “So, all you’ve been doing… the strange things by my door, the visits, the presents, you…”

Mobei Jun smiled earnestly.

Shen Qingqiu's words resonated in Shang Qinghua’s mind; a change in their master/lackey dynamics, something he didn’t know how to say, symbolic presents…

Oh, God.

“I want you to understand my intentions,” Mobei Jun said, urgently. “I want us to be bonded. I want no other than you as my mate.”

“Mates?” repeated Shang Qinghua, still floating in a volatile daze of incredulity.

“Mates, partners, husband and wife, whatever you choose to name it is fine. I want you by my side. As my equal.”

Shang Qinghua looked at him in silence. Mobei Jun grew desperate.

“Are the noodles the way humans bond to each other? I will go make them right now–”

“No, no! There’s no need to do that now, no, wait just a moment. Give me just a moment,” begged Shang Qinghua, covering his throbbing forehead with a hand. “Is this really happening? Are you sure of what you are saying?”

“Qinghua, I've been courting you for years. I’m sure, I swear. ”

“Mobei Jun, if you go back on your word again–”

“I will never. I’m serious. I would mark you right this moment if I were certain that you accept me.”

“Mark me? What do you mean?” Shang Qinghua asked, alarmed. He had had enough of demonic rituals for a lifetime. He was not engaging in any more nonsense unless its meaning was crystal clear from now on.

“Bite you lightly, just enough to leave a scar, in a place of your body everyone can see. It makes you mine, and it makes me yours. Nobody would dare to challenge that.”

“Is that really necessary? I mean, it’s not like anyone would want me anyway–”

“You really don’t realize how many people are after you,” interrupted Mobei Jun, frowning. “I’ve been on edge for weeks. I won’t give you up to anyone.”

Shang Qinghua blinked. Just how many demonic courtships had he been dodging out of sheer obliviousness?!

Mobei Jun was agitated beyond himself. He bent down on his chair and rested his cold forehead on Shang Qinghua’s hand.

“Qinghua, I need an answer. Please,” he muttered. 

“Go ahead, then.”

Mobei Jun raised his head, startled.

“What?”

“You said the mark needs to be in a visible place, right? My robes cover most of my body, except for my hands. So… go ahead.”

Mobei Jun blinked, still in disbelief.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Are you accepting me?”

“I am.”

Mobei Jun swallowed, nodded in silence, and kneeled before Shang Qinghua. He carefully took his little right hand on his own, kissed it softly, and bit.

Shang Qinghua frowned a bit and then sighed. It was a strange, strange feeling. He had expected it to hurt, given Mobei Jun’s sharp teeth, and it did; but only just a little, as if it was a set of very thin needles poking at his skin. Then the mild pain was over, and a warm feeling rose from his hand until it wrapped his body thoroughly. He felt dizzy, in a gentle way; it was a little scary, yet overwhelmingly sweet.

Mobei Jun stood up and wrapped Shang Qinghua between his arms.

“I am yours,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. His heart was beating so fast Shang Qinghua felt its pulse on his cheek as he pressed himself against Mobei Jun’s chest.

“I am yours too,” he whispered back.

Mobei Jun gently grabbed his chin and lifted his head, pressing his lips against his own.

Shang Qinghua had fantasized about his first kiss since his teen years, but it had just never happened; as time went by, he lost interest in dating and forgot about it. Firsts were overrated anyway; it didn’t really matter who was on the receiving end.

As he tasted the lips of the one person he had ever loved, melting in the warmth of his arms, he was secretly so very glad that his neglected first kiss hadn’t gone to waste.

All his firsts were still intact, carefully buried in the darkest corner of his heart.

He rejoiced, ready to give them all to Mobei Jun. He thought it would be a fitting start to gift him those grand three words he had never said before.

“I love you.”

Chapter Text

Shang Qinghua opened his eyes, confused. He had had an amazing night’s sleep, the best in who knows how long. The looming worries in his mind usually got twisted into bizarre nightmares, and he would wake up four or five times a night, startled and sweaty. Mornings were a grim business, even when he had grown accustomed to getting up feeling the urge to end himself right there on his bed.

However, this time it was different. He felt well-rested and weirdly enough, minty-cool fresh despite the dry heat of the palace. His eyesight was blurry, so he blinked a few times. He had enjoyed such a deep slumber that he didn’t entirely recognize his surroundings. His brain, thankful for the much-needed break, was taking its time to reboot.

The memories of the previous night flooded his mind. He raised his hand to his eye level, fearing to see nothing on his skin.

The sigh of relief he let out when he spotted the already healed mark scar was so loud it woke Mobei Jun up.

He turned and hugged Shang Qinghua’s waist, pressing his cold lips on the back of his neck.

“You’re awake,” he mumbled sluggishly. “It’s still early. Sleep some more.”

As if he could sleep some more!

He turned in Mobei Jun’s arms, so he could see his face upfront and make sure he was not deluding himself into yet another of his raunchy dreams.

“My king,” he muttered, in a daze, not daring to speak too loud and break the spell.

“Mn?”

“Are you really here?”

Without answering, Mobei Jun tightened his embrace, leaned forward, and kissed him.

“You tell me,” he said with a mocking smile. “Am I here or not?”

Shang Qinghua yelped, nodding with energy. He made an effort to get his palpitations under control. It was way too early to have a heart attack. And to his great embarrassment, he sanctioned it was definitely way too early to have his body react to the displays of affection in the way it was. They had spent the night chastely cuddling. His mind and soul weren’t ready to leave virtue behind yet.

He was about to free himself to go hide under his loosest robes when there was a knock on the door.

Mobei Jun’s ears perked up.

“Are you expecting someone?” he asked.

“No, my first appointment is at noon,” answered Shang Qinghua, bewildered. Nobody ever came to his chambers so early in the morning; even if he wanted breakfast, he had to go to the kitchen on his own.

Mobei Jun frowned and went to the door himself. If it was one of Shang Qinghua’s shameless suitors, he’d made sure they’d start their day with a crushed skull. The audacity, even after he had imprinted so much of his demonic energy around Shang Qinghua’s room that it should have been frozen all over!

He opened the door making sure to display murder in his aura. A delicate demoness, well-dressed in light green, bamboo-patterned robes, flinched back when she was greeted not by meek master Shang, but a shirtless, menacing ice titan.

“State your business,” he ordered, voice hoarse with irritation.

The little demoness was so intimidated she could not make a sound. She gaped like a fish out of water.

“Stop shivering and speak,” growled Mobei Jun, getting angrier. She was really pretty and all dolled up. She had definitely come bearing ill intentions.

“My king, my king!” squealed Shang Qinghua, finally getting a glimpse of the girl from behind Mobei Jun’s wall-like back. “She’s Consort Shen’s lady-in-waiting!”

Mobei Jun’s ferocious demeanor vanished at once. His face relaxed and adopted his usual aloof expression.

“Oh,” was all he said, moving aside for Shang Qinghua to greet the terrified girl.

“Good morning, Chu Hua,” he said brightly, doing his best to calm down the trembling demoness. Mobei Jun’s energy in the outer area was so dense even he could feel a chilly tingle on his skin. “Does your master need me by any chance?”

“My- my apologies for disturbing mas– master Shang so early,” Chu Hua stuttered, eyes fixed on the ground. “I have a message to deliver. Lord Luo and Consort Shen would like to invite you and lord Mobei Jun to share breakfast at their private parlor.”

Shang Qinghua blinked. 

“Breakfast?” he repeated, completely baffled. 

“Tell them we’ll be there shortly,” answered Mobei Jun, pulling Shang Qinghua in and closing the door on the girl. She managed to bow in obedience before rushing away.

“You should wear your nice robes,” said Mobei Jun, putting on his fur coat.

“Do you know what this is all about, my king?” asked Shang Qinghua, obeying on impulse. He went to his wardrobe to pick the outfit Cucumber bro had gifted him.

“I have my suspicions.”

He didn’t seem inclined to say anything else, so Shang Qinghua didn’t press the matter. He still was unsure of how to behave himself around Mobei Jun, and he’d find out what was going on soon enough anyway.

Once he was dressed, he took a look in the mirror. He’d love to wear his golden hairpiece, but his hair was an unruly mess again. He blushed, realizing Mobei Jun had been watching him busy around for a while while he looked like that.

He took a comb and fiercely punished his lawless head.

Mobei Jun silently handed him a different hairpiece he had chosen from the extensive collection.

“This one would look better,” he said. “With those robes, I mean.”

Shang Qinghua felt dizzy. How had his life taken such an insane turn, that suddenly he had Mobei Jun picking accessories for him?

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to wear it, my king,” he said apologetically. “My hair is– well. You see it.”

“What about it?” asked Mobei Jun, confused.

“It’s… like this,” Shang Qinghua said, pointing at it, mortified. “This ugly mess. I can’t control it. It took two ancient imperial stylists to tame it.”

“It looks good,” simply said Mobei Jun, shrugging. “It always does.”

Shang Qinghua blushed, flustered by the unexpected compliment. Mobei Jun went to the bed and sat down, motioning at Shang Qinghua to come closer. He complied.

Mobei Jun pulled Shang Qinghua down and made him sit between his long legs. He took the comb from Shang Qinghua’s hand and began brushing his hair patiently. He took his time, untangling every knotted curl by hand.

Shang Qinghua couldn’t help but shiver from head to toe every time he felt Mobei Jun’s fingers brushing against his scalp and neck. Goodness, how much of a pervert was he that so little was enough to rile him up?

Mobei Jun noticed his restlessness.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked, combing even slower. Shang Qinghua shook his head in denial. “Are my hands too cold?”

“It’s fine. My king shouldn’t bother with this servant’s–”

Mobei Jun stopped what he was doing and grabbed Shang Qinghua’s chin with his other hand, making him turn his head in his direction. He gave Shang Qinghua a sudden kiss so deep it left him gasping for air once his lips were released.

“No more 'this servant' this and that,” he ordered, softly licking Shang Qinghua’s lips. “Or I’ll do that every time, no matter where we are or who’s looking. Do you understand?”

Shang Qinghua couldn’t do anything else but nod and stare at him in a trembling, adoring daze. Mobei Jun smiled. He was so impossibly cute. So easily flustered. He wanted to spoil him rotten.

“You are my mate now,” he said, resuming his styling efforts. “You’re every inch my equal. No more this servant and my king nonsense.”

Shang Qinghua giggled, still in disbelief at his new circumstances. He had been so desperate in his uncontrolled grief the night before. Not once in a million years would he have expected things to turn the way they did.

“I don’t think I can stop addressing you like that, my king,” he said playfully. “It’s a bit like lord Luo still calling shizun after Consort Shen.”

“Then I shall address you as ‘My queen’ ,” Mobei Jun answered, pleased by the sound of that. “It’s only proper, as we’ll be bonded shortly.”

Shang Qinghua paled. He had been so drunk in bliss that the implications of a union with a literal monarch hadn’t crossed his mind yet. He felt the first pang of true sympathy for Empress Shen’s identity crisis.

“All done.”

Shang Qinghua got up and looked at the mirror, perplexed. Mobei Jun had managed to tame his turbulent mane into a neat, smooth style that actually held his hairpiece of choice very well.

“I can’t believe you did this,” he said, sincerely admired. “I never manage to get it under control no matter how much I try.”

“Then I’ll do it for you every morning,” declared Mobei Jun, satisfied with his first feat as a mated man. Finally engaging in such a domestic routine with Shang Qinghua after so many years of unilateral pining had him in such high spirits he could have just shoved the man onto the bed and jumped his bones until nightfall. But there was no need to rush things now, and they had a meeting to attend.

“We better get going,” Shang Qinghua said, almost purring with contentedness. “They are waiting for us.”

Mobei Jun got up and gallantly offered him his arm. When Shang Qinghua shyly took it, the demon made sure his little hand was placed in such a manner that the mark was clearly visible. He hoped they crossed paths with many, many palace folks on their way.

When they arrived at the imperial chambers, Shang Qinghua tried to release his hand, unwilling to make an embarrassing scene, but Mobei Jun held it firmly in place. 

“My king, they might be confused if they see us like this,” he mumbled, blushing.

“I don’t think so,” answered Mobei Jun, knocking on the door. A voice immediately invited them in.

When they entered the chambers, Shang Qinghua’s jaw dropped so hard it nearly made a hole in the ground.

There was a huge table in the sitting room, luxuriously served with breakfast so abundant and diverse it would have been enough to feed a small country of picky eaters.

Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu, dressed in celebratory robes, stood up at once and bowed. 

“Congratulations on your engagement!” they said simultaneously, inviting the new couple to take a seat.

“How could you possibly–” started Shang Qinghua, flabbergasted, his face crimson red.

“Your highnesses are too kind,” said Mobei Jun, bowing. He wasn’t surprised in the slightest.

“You knew they knew?” exclaimed Shang Qinghua, forgetting all formality in his surprise.

“The expansive spiritual energy blast of the marking he gave you nearly shattered all the windows in the palace, master Shang,” explained Luo Binghe with a chuckle. “I think it’s safe to assert that by now, everybody knows.”

Shang Qinghua stared in awe at his mark. That delicate little bite, that had already healed leaving only a faint scar? 

Shen Qingqiu walked between them and grabbed their arms on his own, taking them to their seats. He was weirdly happy on a very surface level, oddly deviating from his usual poser act. Shang Qinghua stared at him.

“I’m so very glad you reached an agreement,” he said, making sure they were comfortably seated. “I apologize for this spontaneous celebration, but with the wedding so close we feared we’d miss the chance to congratulate you properly. Please, eat.”

He went back to his seat next to his husband and immediately held his hand on the table, serving tea with the other. Luo Binghe smiled indulgently at him and started eating using only his free right hand. 

It would have made a nauseatingly sweet scene if it wasn’t so grossly out of character for Shen Qingqiu, the number one advocate against public displays of affection.

“So, have you bonded yet?” asked Luo Binghe out of the blue, maneuvering to fill his plate.

“Binghe, don’t pry, they have just marked,” scolded Shen Qingqiu. He turned his eyes to them, however. “Have you, though?”

Mobei Jun wasn’t used to this informal side of Consort Shen, so he was a bit flustered, to Shang Qinghua’s amusement.

“Not yet,” he answered, eyes fixed on his cup of tea. “It will probably be best to wait until after the imperial wedding.”

“That’s not too far away,” observed Luo Binghe. “I’d say Shang-shifu would do well to start making some planning of his own.”

Shang Qinghua smiled nervously. As Mobei Jun was not used to informal chatter with Cucumber bro, Shang Qinghua was not used to any kind of communication with Luo Binghe at all.

“I have my hands full at the moment,” he admitted awkwardly. “There’s still much to arrange, and…”

Luo Binghe quickly whispered a request to regain use of his left hand for a moment, to get ahold of a few steamed buns without dropping them. Shen Qingqiu released him, only to relocate his hand on his husband’s thigh.

“...and actually, your highnesses, I was hoping I could discuss a little matter that involves you both.”

“But this is your engagement celebration,” Shen Qingqiu protested. “We shouldn’t discuss wedding business now.”

“Now’s as good a time as ever,” Shang Qinghua replied, shooting daggers at his bro. “We’re all reunited here, which is a rare occurrence, don’t you agree, shixiong?”

Mobei Jun discreetly side-glanced him, noticing he was up to something.

“Shang-shishu has a point, Shizun,” gently said Luo Binghe, holding Shen Qingqiu’s hand back. “It won’t hurt to devote a few minutes to these matters. It will save us all the hassle of arranging another meeting later.”

Shen Qinqiu pouted. He actually pouted . Shang Qinghua nearly choked on his tea. 

“Very well,” Consort Shen graciously agreed. “What is it, shidi?”

Shang Qinghua swallowed hard. Now that it had come to it, he realized he probably wouldn’t have had the courage to bring up the separation idea if Mobei Jun hadn’t been by his side on fiancé duty.

“Given that we are only five days away from the wedding, It occurred to me it would be an interesting idea to consider an old multi-realm tradition,” he began, minding each word. “It is meant to help the bride and groom stabilize their spiritual energy and better prepare their hearts and mind for the ceremony, as well as create a build-up in expectation to make the moment even more special.”

It was a load of bullshit if he’d ever spilled one. The tradition existed, yes, but it was merely meant to preserve the couple’s purity until the wedding night. In the case of these two, every last shred of chastity had long been ravished and thrown to the dogs, so the perks Shang Qinghua mentioned were exclusively born from his active imagination.

Luo Binghe’s quick wits picked up on the intention besides his flowery words, and he raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“And what does this tradition require us to do exactly?” he asked.

Shang Qinghua gathered his courage.

“It’s simple really, the bride and groom should not see each other until the day of the ceremony.”

There was silence. Shang Qinghua was sweating bullets. Mobei Jun munched on a sweet cookie.

The couple stared at him for a few moments and then they both spoke at the same time:

“Absolutely not,” sentenced Luo Binge.

“It’s a great idea!” exclaimed Shen Qingqiu.

Luo Binghe turned to his wife, expression betrayed. He teared up instantly.

“Shizun!” he whined, “Why are you so eager to be away from me?”

“Think about it, Binghe. Wouldn’t it be exciting to meet each other at the ceremony, after a few short days of separation? This is technically our second wedding. It would make things even more special.”

Luo Binghe was about to complain when Mobei Jun added his two cents.

“Would certainly encourage eagerness on the wedding night,” he calmly observed. For the second time in less than ten minutes, Shang Qinghua nearly choked. What was with him, suddenly having the gall to speak of such things so leisurely?

The remark got Luo Binghe thinking for a moment, but it was not enough; he was ready to protest again when Shen Qinqiu held both his hands.

“Please, husband? It would make this wife very happy.”

Cucumber bro, you sly dog. You rant about being treated like a lady but won’t hesitate to wife it up out of the blue when it serves your purpose. What a brazen scumbag!

Being attacked so mercilessly, Luo Binghe melted and submitted.

“Very well, if that’s what Shizun wants,” he pouted, still unconvinced. “But I will miss you so very much.”

“I’ll make the arrangements then,” Shang Qinghua declared. Luo Binghe glared at him. “Now, we should get down to business. Shixiong, I was thinking we should visit Cang Qiong Mountain today. There are some things I need to discuss with Zhangmen-shixiong after you have your conversation with him. What do you think? I could reschedule our appointments for the day.”

“I have no objections.”

“Excellent. Get ready and meet me down at the main hall as soon as–”

“No,” interjected Luo Binghe, standing up. “If I’m going to be away from Shizun for five days, I need to bid him goodbye properly.”

Shen Qingqiu hid his face behind his fan, diverting his gaze from his guests. The look he gave to his husband was so shamelessly horny that Shang Qinghua sprang up from his seat.

“Absolutely, we’ll take out leave now. Shixiong, send Chu Hua for me once you’re ready to depart. Thank you for the delightful breakfast.”

He took Mobei Jun’s arm and they both fled the chambers.

“That was tense,” Shang Qinghua sighed once they were walking down the hall.

“You did well,” declared Mobei Jun encouragingly.

“Thank you for backing me up,” said Shang Qinghua, resting his cheek on Mobei Jun’s arm. “I doubt the emperor would have agreed if it weren’t for your presence there.”

“I don’t think so. Consort Shen approved of your idea. That would have settled the matter despite anyone else’s opinion,” he said, chuckling. “Why are you so adamant about separating them?”

Shang Qinghua frowned.

“You probably didn’t notice, my king, by Consort Shen has been acting off lately,” he explained. “I thought it would be easier to investigate what’s wrong without lord Luo hovering over him constantly. They are exacerbating the issue for each other.”

“I don’t know Consort Shen well enough to notice, but Binghe mentioned something about it,” Mobei Jun said. “He was very concerned.”

“Do you think…” Shang Qinghua wondered, doubtfully. He wasn’t sure if he was about to be out of line or not. “Do you think you could distract him these next five days? I don’t know why Consort Shen was so eager to go with the separation, but I’m sure lord Luo will have second thoughts. I won’t be able to aid Consort if he’s around.”

“Of course,” agreed Mobei Jun, without a moment’s hesitation.

“Thank you very much. I feel guilty asking you for such a thing.”

“Didn’t I tell you?” retorted Mobei Jun, leaning down to kiss the top of Shang Qinghua’s head. “Whatever you want, you can have. Although I wish you would ask for something for yourself, for once.”

Shang Qinghua hesitated for a bit. His mind was bursting with a single idea, so overbearing he couldn’t hold the words back.

“I do have a request,” he said timidly.

“Do tell.”

“I’d like some… alone time with my king,” he muttered, flustered. 

Mobei Jun looked at him, intrigued. Shang Qinghua noticed the eagerness in his eyes and blurted out a hasty explanation.

“We were engaged just last night, and first thing in the morning we had to share breakfast with other people, and I– I just need some time in private with you. To get used to this. I feel…”

Mobei Jun stopped walking and listened in silence.

“I feel I don’t want to be around anyone else but you. At least for a little while.”

Mobei Jun smiled and picked him up like a rag doll, turning around and walking towards his chambers with huge strides.

“My king–!” yelped Shang Qinghua, startled in his embarrassment.

“I expect it will be a long while before Consort Shen is ready to leave,” he said, in high spirits. “We better make the most of it.”

Chapter Text

As Mobei Jun predicted, it took Luo Binghe about three and a half hours to say his goodbyes to Shen Qingqiu. Shang Qinghua could only hope that the heartfelt farewell wouldn’t leave Cucumber bro unable to walk for the rest of the day. They really shouldn’t postpone the trip to Cang Qiong Mountain.

However, the delay proved to be beneficial for him. He was able to spend quite some time alone with Mobei Jun in complete freedom, as he had rescheduled his appointments of the day in favor of the trip.

The demon had accepted his request for private time with such eagerness that Shang Qinghua feared he’d misunderstood his intentions. However, to his surprise and, let’s face it, a hint of disappointment, Mobei Jun had behaved like a complete gentleman. For a demon, he was oddly constrained and proper; he never went further than kissing and light cuddling, always letting Shang Qinghua take the initiative for physical contact. As Master Airplane was entirely not ready to initiate a goddamn thing yet, they had spent their entire time together conversing and simply getting used to their new dynamics.

It was sweet and comforting, but Shang Qinghua’s old self-esteem issues would not give him a break, no matter how newly engaged he was; he began wondering, in the deepest corner of his heart, if Mobei Jun actually found him attractive at all.

The physical difference between them was so ridiculously evident nobody in a million years would have ever imagined the kind of bond they shared. Next to such a dreamy hunk, Shang Qinghua felt like those unimportant mob characters in manhua, so irrelevant they don’t even get the dignity of properly drawn faces.

What exactly did Mobei Jun like about him? He wanted to know but feared the answer at the same time. His conflicted feelings about it were a heavy can of worms that it was better left alone in the depths of the pantry. It would be wiser to just thank his lucky stars and avoid dwelling on it too much.

It was well past noon when Chu Hua timidly knocked on the door, letting master Shang know that Consort Shen was ready to depart.

Mobei Jun lifted Shang Qinghua’s chin with a finger and lightly kissed the corner of his lips.

“Come straight to my chambers when you return,” he said, walking him to the door. “I’ll have someone move your belongings here today. Your room is too small for the both of us.”

Shang Qinghua suppressed a yelp and nodded with a shy smile. Flustered beyond words, he rushed off to get his planner and notes.

He was still in a blissful daze when he met Shen Qingqiu at the palace entrance. Chu Hua was standing next to him, visibly nervous. 

“Shidi,” Shen Qingqiu greeted, drawing Xiu Ya. 

“Put that thing away, Madam Consort,” jibed Shang Qinghua. “We’re taking a carriage to Cang Qiong mountain.”

Chu Hua couldn’t help but sigh in relief. She had been terrified all morning by the prospect of flying on a sword. She was certain she’d have shredded Consort’s clothes holding for dear life.

“A carriage? That will take forever!” protested Shen Qingqiu, reluctantly sheathing his sword.

“Hardly half a day, with demonic horses,” retorted Shang Qinghua, ordering the stable boy to proceed. “We’ll get there just in time for dinner.”

“I still think–”

“ We need to discuss some things before our arrival there, shixiong,” interrupted Shang Qinghua, glaring at him. “We’ll hardly be able to do so while dangling on a sword.”

Shen Qingqiu opened his fan and covered his face with a faint humph.

Such a spoiled drama queen! You’ve gotten too used to being pampered.

The carriage arrived shortly. Four enormous fiendish reptiles were tied to it, barely contained by a muscular demon coachman. The animals were crimson red and covered in dark spikes. Growling, huffing and blowing hot steam out of their fiery nostrils, they looked more like dragons than common mount beasts. 

“I can’t believe it! A carriage pulled by four authentic Abyssal fire drakes!” Shen Qingqiu exclaimed, rushing to the creatures in ecstatic awe. “Shidi, shidi! What a wonderful surprise. So clever. You got me for a moment when you said horses. Look at their fangs!”

“I knew you’d like them,” said Shang Qinghua, who had not a fucking clue of what an Abyssal fire drake was. He had genuinely meant demonic horses, expecting nothing more than your regular steeds, maybe a bit bigger than usual. Whatever. If those monstrosities got Cucumber bro in a more receptive mood, they were more than welcome. He only hoped they wouldn’t eat the coachman and set the carriage on fire with them still inside.

“You can gush over them later, shixiong; we need to get going already,” he groaned, helping little Chu Hua jump to her seat next to the coachman. As frightened as she had been of the idea of a sword ride, she was perfectly fine with that nightmarish foursome of infernal ponies. She found them cute, she said. Demons' tastes were peculiar indeed.

Once they were inside, the coachman whipped the drakes and the carriage took off at a vertiginous speed.

Shen Qingqiu hummed a little tune, already munching on the many travel snacks Luo Binghe had sent him. He was in high spirits and had a wonderful appetite; even after sharing a good number of pastries with his shidi, he still had a full lunch bag waiting by his side.

“Still hungry, uh?” asked Shang Qinghua, eyeing him as his shixiong wolfed down a bunch of beautifully decorated ginger confections.

“A bit,” Shen Qingqiu answered, shrugging. “I did a whole lot of exercise this morning.”

“Ugh. Spare me the macabre details, bro.”

“Wasn’t gonna tell you anyway, you perv. So, what did you want to talk about? We better get to the point fast. We’ll be there in less than two hours at this pace. Those amazing creatures! They can run at speeds of–”

“No monster trivia, you unhinged geek!” interrupted Shang Qinghua, opening his planner on the little table attached to the door. “Let’s cut to the chase. Point number one: the ceremony. This is your last chance to back off, bro. Are you entirely sure you want Yue Qingyuan to be part of it?”

Shen Qingqiu nodded solemnly. 

“Binghe and I talked a lot about the ceremony. Our first was very intimate, and even though we followed all the steps, it was still just the two of us in the Bamboo House. We’d like to do a proper wedding ritual now that we’ve got the chance. And we need some parental figures to bow to. Zhangmen-shixiong is the best choice for my side of the family.”

“Don’t get me wrong, the guy will shit his pants with joy when you ask him, but I thought I should warn you in case you haven’t considered that… uhm… the poor bastard might start reminiscing about Shen Jiu and shit. You better be ready to handle that. I know it’s a pet peeve of yours.”

“I know. I would also like to ask Qi Qingqi to participate, by the way.”

“Like– like the mom?” Shang Qinghua snorted.

“She’s been a sort of maternal figure to me,” said Shen Qingqiu in a dignified manner. “Like an older sister.”

“Dude, you’re getting way too sentimental–”

“No, I’m not!” Shen Qingqiu yelped. He seemed about to tear up all of a sudden. Shang Qinghua blinked and tactfully changed the subject.

“I’m a bit worried about your veil. That motherfucker is huge, and so damn flimsy; I fear the demonic maids of honor will rip it with their claws. Maybe you could borrow a few jiejie and meimei from your disciple stock to–”

“Ning Yingying! And Ming Fan!” clapped Shen Qingqiu, enthusiastic. “Oh, that would be lovely. Wouldn’t it? You have such an inspired brain sometimes, Master Airplane. You think they’ll do it?”

Shang Qinghua stared at him, mouth open. Was he having a qi deviation or something? 

“I’m sure they’ll be delighted,” he muttered. He changed the topic again. “That being settled… point two. Mobei Jun and I discussed the problem of keeping you safe from hidden haters in the crowds, while you walk to the Temple. He’s gonna have his soldiers infiltrate the audience to watch over possible demon detractors, but we need cultivators to handle potential human dissidents.”

“Makes sense. That’s so nice of Mobei Jun, by the way. I’ll bring him a thank-you souvenir from Qing Jing Peak.”

“Yeeeah, you do that. Focus, bro. I’m telling you this because I think Bai Zhan Peak is perfect for the job. But–”

“Liu-shidi,” deduced Shen Qingqiu, with a sigh.

“Yeah. He’s gonna crack my head open if I ask him to take care of that. You’ll have to do your thing there.”

“What can I do? It’s not like he listens to me or anything. I couldn’t even make him knock on my damn door.”

“I should know; the receipts for bamboo door replacements almost have their own storage room in An Ding Peak,” huffed Shang Qinghua. “But trust me, if he ever caves, it’s gonna be because you asked. So I’m entrusting that task to you.”

Shen Qingqiu raised an eyebrow.

“You better start thinking of a Plan B. You seem to believe I have some sort of mystical influence over Liu-shidi. I’ll try, but don’t get your hopes up. He hasn’t even replied to my letters since I moved to the demon realm.”

“But he never stopped sending you those monster bags, didn’t he? Cucumber bro, the guy once spent ten hours killing and gutting that basilisk that had swallowed one of your fans, and it wasn’t even your favorite or anything,” Shang Qinghua groaned, irritated by Cucumber bro’s denial. “He didn’t stop to think that the stomach acids would have fucked up the thing beyond repair. Trust me. You’re the only one who can get him to cooperate. And we need his help. Do your best.”

“I’ll try.”

“That’s all I’m asking. Point three. What the fuck is up with you, man?!”

Shen Qingqiu was so startled he dropped the lotus pastry he had just unwrapped.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Cucumber bro, level with me. I know something’s up. You can talk to me about whatever has your imperial panties in a knot.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” gruntled Shen Qingqiu, munching on his tart with indignation.

“Sorry, what did you just say? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of the shitton of food you’d been inhaling this past week and a half,” retorted Shang Qinghua, pointing at the ravaged lunch box beside Shen Qingqiu.

“I’m stress-eating a little. So what? I’m getting married in five days, asshole. Cut me some slack.”

“It’s not just the compulsive snacking,” Shang Qinghua said, exasperated. “It’s like… everything! The chronic procrastination. The clinginess to Binghe. The sudden public display of emotions! I know you’re freaking out, bro, and I wanna help, but I can’t do shit unless you–”

“Nobody asked for your help,” interrupted Shen Qingqiu, deadly pissed.

“Oh, but they did,” Shang Qinghua barked, pointing his finger at him. “In a very official capacity at that. And if you don’t trust me as a friend, I’m gonna bust your balls as Cang Qiong Mountain’s planner and representative until you spill the beans.”

“There are no beans to spill.”

“What, you ate them too?”

“You dick.”

“You damn poser. Just making my life difficult. It’s like a hobby for you.”

“Is it? Really? It’s thanks to that hobby of mine that you’re able to show off that bite mark on your hand, you ungrateful prick.”

“And it’s thanks to my own hobby that you are able to get married at all, assface! I freakin’ created your husband!”

They glared at each other for a long time, grunting and puffing like old men, until they simultaneously crossed their arms and fixated their eyes on the opposite sides of the landscape.

A good couple of silent minutes went by before Shang Qinghua broke the silence.

“Whenever you’re ready to talk about it… I’ll be around,” he mumbled.

“Okay,” muttered Shen Qingqiu. He raised his fan to cover his face and discreetly rubbed the corner of his eyes.

Another silence.

“Point four.”

“Oh, spare me, for fuck’s sake.”

“I need your monster geek knowledge.”

Shen Qingqiu turned his head, intrigued despite himself.

“Do you now?” he said, waving his fan. “What for?”

Shang Qinghua blushed deeply, still not looking at his bro’s face. It was too humiliating.

“Demonic bonding,” he muttered, embarrassed.

Shen Qingqiu blinked and then hid a smirk behind his fan.

“Don’t laugh, asshole.”

“I’m not. What do you want to know? I thought you’d be in better standing than me to talk about the topic.”

“As if,” whined Shang Qinghua, finally turning around. “I have no clue of what demonic bonding means. Mobei Jun keeps talking about it as if it were universal knowledge, but he says things so vague I don’t really get what he means.”

“Why ask me?” inquired Shen Qingqiu, honestly confused. “That’s a private conversation you should have with your fiancé.”

“He’s so excited when he brings it up I don’t have the heart to tell him I’m clueless. He seems to think I’m well-informed. I don’t want to disappoint him.”

Shen Qingqiu hummed and thought for a few moments.

“Master Airplane, this really is a conversation you should have with him,” he insisted. “I can only give you a few pointers, but it’s not my place to–”

“Anything helps,” pleaded Shang Qinghua, pathetically tugging at his sleeves. “Please? My bro from another town? Please?”

He looked so pitiful Shen Qingqiu yielded instantly. He cleared his throat and waved his fan in a dignified manner, shaking his sleeves free of Master Airplane’s sticky little paws.

“Demonic bonding is a ritual in which a mated couple vows to be together for life.”

“Isn’t that the same as marking?”

“Think of the marking as an engagement and take that scar of yours as the engagement ring. Bonding is more like… getting married.”

“Oh. I see. And how’s the process?” Shang Qinghua asked, fearing a relapse into their old ritual ass-kicking ways. “Does it hurt?”

“That’s a loaded question,” said Shen Qingqiu, giving him a complicated look. “It depends on the couple. In your case, and if your experience is anything like mine… yeah, it will hurt.”

Shang Qinghua swallowed.

“What’s the ritual like?”

“Well, it’s simple. It’s different for every couple, but the basics are sharing some kind of meaningful activity, as a way of exchanging vows, and then, uhm… sealing the deal .”

“How?”

Shen Qingqiu gave him a look full of meaning, raising both eyebrows. Shan Qinghua got it and paled.

“Oh.”

“Yup. The first… papapa between mates after the ritual marking is what bonds them together forever. So, if you accept my advice… mind when and how you do it. Time and place, bro. Make it a nice memory. You will remember that moment forever after all.”

Shang Qinghua gave him a look that hid a hint of pity. He knew why Cucumber bro was so stern about the topic. His first time with Binghe was something that could feed a whole team of psychologists for years and then send their kids on a full ride to college.

“ Banging to save the world is a pretty epic memory, bro,” he said encouragingly, patting Shen Qingqiu’s knee.

“It’s so not. Binghe doesn’t even acknowledge it. We ended up beaten up and covered in debris and Liu-shidi picked up our naked asses from a freakin’ river. He saw my husband’s dick before I had the chance to take a good look myself. And you want him to play bodyguard at our wedding? Pah.”

Shang Qinghua blinked, speechless, and erupted into a roar of laughter. It was the first time he thought it was worth dealing with his bro’s temporal oversharing tendencies.

Shen Qingqiu smacked him mercilessly with his fan and stopped only when the carriage halted.

“Are we there yet?” he asked, surprised. The sun was not set yet. Those fire drakes were magnificent stallions indeed.

Shang Qinghua opened the door of the carriage and jumped off.

“It’s showtime.”

Chapter Text

To avoid potential conflicts, Shang Qinghua asked the demon coachman to take the carriage back to the palace and return for them the next morning. 

Once they were alone, they began ascending the many stairs to Qing Jing Peak. They ran into a stairs sweeper halfway up. The old man greeted them politely and hurried away to go inform the sect leader of their arrival.

Chu Hua nervously tugged Shen Qingui’s sleeves.

“Don’t worry, dear,” said Shen Qingqiu, holding her hand in a reassuring manner. “Nobody will hurt you. I dare say they’ll find you as lovely as I do.”

The little demoness gave him a timid smile and made an effort to compose herself. She was proud of her position as Consort Shen’s lady-in-waiting and wanted to give a good first impression.

When they finally reached the top, a true flock of lively disciples was eagerly waiting for them, led by Ning Yingying and Ming Fan.

“Shizun! Shizun!” 

Shen Qingqiu blushed with pleasure. It had been a long time since he had heard that word pronounced in its rightful context. Taken over by emotion, he opened his arms and beamed at the children.

The crowd of disciples was so shocked and surprised by this unusually explicit act of affability that they emitted a roaring squeal and threw themselves into their master’s embrace.

Chu Hua jumped back, spooked by the sudden advance of the mob, and grabbed Shang Qinghua’s arm. Despite the truce, she had heard many cautionary stories of how cultivators treated demons.

“It’s okay, relax,” said he, patting her hand. “They won’t hurt you.”

“Is this how human disciples usually greet Consort?” she asked, eyes wide open.

“Well… no,” admitted Shang Qinghua. “But it’s nice to see, isn’t it?”

Shen Qingqiu freed himself from the swarm of sticky hands and cleared his throat to get the disciples’ attention.

“I’m glad to see you all too, but don’t forget your manners. You’re disciples of Qing Jing Peak. How come you haven’t paid your respects to your Shang-shishu yet?”

The entire assembly instantly turned to Shang Qinghua, bowed deeply, and sang in unison:

“Good afternoon, Shang-shishu.”

Shang Qinghua bowed his head in recognition. Ah, Cucumber bro was in his element. Now he talked about manners, when he had spent the entire morning rolling around with a former disciple, and a half-demon at that. What a shameless poser!

“And this young lady in here is my lady-in-waiting, Chu Hua,” continued Shen Qingqiu, delicately placing an arm on the girl’s shoulder. The demoness smiled nervously and curtseyed at them.

“I am honored to meet Consort Shen’s esteemed disciples,” she said, her voice trembling a bit.

The disciples were fascinated by her ethereal beauty, so different from what they were used to seeing. Even though she was dressed as a Cang Qiong Mountain lady would, she was clearly one of the demonic kind.

“Shizun, she’s so pretty.”

“Can we show her around?”

“Let’s take her on a ride on Bao Bao’s back!” one of the youngest disciples said, running to Chu Hua and taking her hand. “Bao Bao is our monster pet. He’s huge and hairy. He eats bamboo all day, and when he’s happy after a meal he lets us ride him around–”

“I’d love to meet your Bao Bao, but I have a duty by Consort Shen’s side,” explained Chu Hua, instantly endearing herself to the little ones with her sweet manners and soft voice.

“You may go,” said Shen Qingqiu, smiling. “You’ll do me a great kindness keeping them all entertained while Shang-shidi and I tend to business.”

Cheering at the permission, the flock of disciples herded a flustered Chu Hua away into the nearby bamboo forest.

“Shizun, she’s adorable,” chimed in Ning Yingying, holding Shen Qingqiu’s arm. “Is she really your lady-in-waiting?”

“Your Luo-shidi insisted I had someone tend to me at all times at the palace,” answered Shen Qingqiu, shaking his head as he let himself be escorted to the Bamboo House. “I wasn’t very keen on the idea, but she’s a very competent girl.”

“A-Luo truly spoils Shizun,” giggled Ning YingYing.

“Are the demons treating you well, Shizun?” asked Ming Fan, worried. “You look a bit pale. Are you eating well?”

Shang Qinghua scoffed. Shen Qingqiu glared at him.

“I am fine, just a little bit tired. Your Shang-shishu and I have been very busy with the wedding preparations.”

“How I wish I could attend,” sighed Ning Yingying dreamily, as if the imperial wedding was the epitome of her romantic fantasies. “Do you think shixiong and I would be allowed to go, Shizun?”

“We would be honored to be by your side, Shizun, even if it’s from the crowds,” agreed Ming Fan, puffing his chest.

“Who knows, who knows,” Shen Qingqiu said, waving his fan with a half-smile. “Is Zhangmen-shixiong already at the Bamboo House?”

“He’s been waiting since noon, Shizun.”

“Ning Yingying, would you be so kind as to summon your Qi-shishu?”

“Of course, I’ll go right away!”

“And you, Ming Fan, would you kindly go fetch your Liu-shishu? I presume you remember the way to Bai Zhan Peak?” Shen Qingqiu asked with an innocent tone.

“On my way, Shizun,” answered the young man, expression guilty.

Once the two main disciples had left on their missions, Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua walked into the Bamboo House.

Yue Qingyuan was waiting for them in the reading room. He got up immediately and went to greet them. He placed a firm hand on each of their shoulders.

“Welcome back, my shidi,” he said, with his usual warmth.

“It’s been a while, Zhangmen-shixiong.”

“Zhangmen-shixiong.”

Yue Qingyuan invited them to sit down as he began to pour them some tea, but Shang Qinghua politely refused.

“If Sect Master allows me, I will wait outside to greet Liu-shidi and Qi-shimei.”

Yue Qingyuan nodded, a bit baffled.

“Is he unwell?” he asked Shen Qingqiu, handing him a cup of fragrant tea.

“No. He means to give us some privacy. There’s a delicate matter I would like to discuss with you.”

“Of course. Is this related to the wedding, perhaps?” asked Yue Qingyuan, looking at him with a complicated expression.

“Zhangmen-shixiong is ever so wise.”

“Go ahead, shidi. Whatever troubles you, I will hear. Cang Qiong Mountain will always be here for you.”

“I have a request, but it is not aimed at Cang Qiong Mountain. This request only Yue-shixiong can grant or reject.”

Yue Qingyuan was about to sip on his tea, but hearing this, he slowly put his cup down. He dared look into Shen Qingqiu’s eyes, searching for any hints of anguish or displeasure, but he found nothing but two serene, clear green ponds. If anything, there was a hint of… tenderness in them? 

“I’m listening, shidi.”

“Shixiong knows I’m about to be wed.”

“In five days, yes. I am aware.”

“And Shixiong also knows that this is not my first wedding ceremony.”

Yue Qingyuan nodded, doing his best to project a calm demeanor. The topic of Shen Qingqiu’s elopement had been widely discussed many, many times, but they had never talked about it privately. He was tense, unsure of the direction the conversation would take. 

“My first wedding was right here, under this very roof,” Shen Qingqiu continued, glancing around the Bamboo House with a half-smile. “It was a small ceremony held by two people, alone. Binghe and I became family here.”

“Are you happy, Qingqiu?” asked Yue Qingyuan, unable to hold back his worries. It was not like Shen Qingqiu at all, to share such intimate details so leisurely, and to him of all people. “Is your disciple– your partner , treating you well?”

“I am, and he is, very much so,” answered Shen Qingqiu, unable to hide the fondness in his voice. “I am content. Marrying Binghe was something I did following my own heart. But now that I have been given this rare opportunity to perform the ceremony in front of the whole world, I realize I have one regret.”

“Go ahead.”

Shen Qingqiu took a deep breath. 

“Yue-shixiong knows I have no family to call my own. I dare say he knows that better than anyone.”

Yue Qingyuan held his breath. He nodded, feeling a familiar weight in his chest.

“My regret lies in having the chance to get married properly, without any family to call my own to be by my side on the most important day of my life. I pondered about that for a long time. I lost sleep over it. It affected my mood. It felt like a heavy burden to bear. An unfair one at that.”

Yue Qingyuan reached out to grab his hand, but he stopped and retreated. He stood still in his seat, his tea getting cold, untouched. He could do nothing but listen in silence, grieving once again the tortuous past that he and Shen Jiu would never be able to fully mend.

“But then I realized I was wrong,” continued Shen Qingqiu, his voice slightly strained. “I do have a family. It is always waiting for me, here at Cang Qiong Mountain. And within that family, I came to comprehend that there is one person I regard above all others.”

Yue Qingyuan gasped. Shen Qingqiu got up from the table, got on his knees, and bowed down before him until his forehead touched the ground.

“I would be honored if shixiong would accept the position of the bride’s father at the wedding ceremony. I want to pay my respects to you and say my vows with you as my witness, and have your blessing to be wed with the one I love.”

“--Qingqiu!” exclaimed Yue Qingyuan, getting up so fast he knocked the table and spilled the tea.

Shen Qingqiu raised his head and smiled at him. It was not one of his fabricated, diplomatic half-smiles. It was Shen Yuan, bright and honest, bearing his heart open. 

“That is my request… Qi-ge.”

Yue Qingyuan broke down. He went to him and fell on his knees, wrapping Shen Qingqiu in his arms as tears flowed down his cheeks.

“Of course, of course I will,” he sobbed, shaking. “Thank you, Xiao-Jiu. Thank you for wanting me there.”

Shen Qingqiu’s eyes watered up. He held the shivering man back, hiding his face in his shoulder. 

The wedding had opened more than one can of worms carefully repressed in the depths of Shen Qingqiu’s mind and heart. His first wedding with Binghe had been so lovingly intimate that he hadn’t thought about anything else than the man before him and the vows they were taking, the promise being made to each other. But now that they were following each and every step of the traditional ceremony, he realized he was actually getting married , and that neither his parents nor his brothers, not even his adored little sister, would be there.

He had felt a deep, hollow emptiness in his chest, as he realized that Binghe was the one single person he could call family in the entire world. 

For the first time since he transmigrated, Shen Yuan mourned the loss of the ones he had left behind. He dwelled in the torturous thoughts he had never allowed himself to explore; how much time had passed until they found his dead body? In which state was the corpse? Who had found it? Just how much had they grieved and blamed themselves? Had they forgotten about him already?

Shen Yuan had never hoped to ever find someone who’d want him forever, someone who’d be willing to take him and love him honestly for the rest of his life.

So now that he had finally found that person, now that he actually loved and was loved in return, now that he was to become one with him… 

His family would never know.

They’d grieve his early departure forever, lamenting the things he had never gotten to do. How little he had lived. How lonely he had been, until the very last moment. All he had missed. 

Only, he hadn’t missed a thing.

But they’d never know.

And he had felt a new kind of loneliness, one he did not dare to mention out loud, and which he did not know how to process.

Only after many sleepless nights, he came to understand that just as Luo Binghe had become his family, all the people that surrounded him, that kept going after him when he left, that would always support and welcome him back no matter what he did or say, that would miss him when he was gone and rejoice when he returned, had also taken root in his heart in a way he hadn’t truly grasped before.

He loved them. Not as favorite characters, not as endearing cannon fodders, not as useful quest-giving NPCs. He loved them as people. As his people. His family.

And out of all of them, not without some surprise, he discovered Yue Qingyuan held a special place in his heart.

He had always reminded him of his dad. Of his older brothers, ever forgiving and complacent with such a helpless trainwreck as he had been.

Yue Qingyuan had always cared for him. He had protected and nurtured him in all of his versions; as Xiao-Jiu, as Shen Jiu, as Shen Qingqiu, as Shen Yuan. 

If the bride and groom had to show their respects to the bride’s parents during the wedding ceremony, he would be proud to bow to that man.

And in asking for that favor, he finally felt entitled to grant the man the one thing he had ever craved, ever since he was a youngling: forgiveness and closure.

It would be his one grace to him, the one thing he could do to repay his kindness. The one way to truly honor the blessing of having been trusted with the body and the life he had now.

He had finally obtained all that Shen Jiu wanted for himself. All the love, respect, power, and kindness that he always yearned for but was always out of his grasp, just because he wouldn’t allow himself to reach out. He hoped his soul, wherever it was, would have found some peace.

After a few minutes of silent weeping, both men rose up and smiled at each other. Yue Qingyuan looked as if the weight of the world had been taken from his back. He seemed brighter, younger even; he gleefully cleaned up the spilled tea on the table and brewed and new pot.

“I’m glad to know I’ll see shixiong at the top of the Temple,” Shen Qingqiu said, sipping on his newly-poured tea. “If shixiong allows me, I would like to ask Qi-shimei to be by your side as well.”

“I’m sure she’ll be delighted,” said Yue Qingyuen, smiling widely. “She’s been talking non-stop about the event. I dare say the entirety of Cang Qiong Mountain will request a leave of absence. I’m considering declaring a holiday, to simplify the logistics.”

“Speaking of logistics,” said Shen Qingqiu, waving his fan with an enigmatic look. “I have yet one more request to ask of Zhangmen-shixiong, if he’d grant me some more of his time.”

“Of course, Qingqiu. What is it?”

“It’s about Shang-shidi.”

Chapter Text

Lazily sitting in the frontal bamboo garden, Shang Qinghua yawned, bored out of his mind. Those two were taking their sweet time. So far he’d heard nothing strange, so he expected they had seen eye-to-eye and were now bawling their eyes out over the tea table.

He wondered what Mobei Jun was doing. Well, actually, he knew; he himself had asked the demon to keep Luo Binghe’s mind away from Cucumber bro’s ass. He hoped the mighty ice king had just enough power to accomplish such a difficult feat.

He had been thinking about the whole bonding business. Unexperienced as he was, he was disoriented. He knew what was supposed to happen, of course, but he couldn’t grasp the steps to be taken before and after. What if he screwed up? It was not just shagging, the act itself had the solemn weight of a once-in-a-lifetime event for him and Mobei Jun. Talking about pressure! Cucumber bro’s advice about making the best of that fundamental memory began to weigh on him. He wondered if he was up to the task.

The one silver lining was that now he understood why Mobei Jun had gently kept his distance from him. It was not a matter of lack of attraction, thank God. He supposed that a demon king would want to bond with his chosen mate on his own territory, in the privacy of his own chambers and the comfort of his own bed. Not in Luo Binghe’s scorching palace’s VIP guestroom, where anytime a maid could knock on the door with one of Consort Shen’s ill-timed invitations to brunch.

He sighed. Five days. Five short days and that bridal madness would be over. 

He decided he’d ask for a leave of absence as compensation for the insane feat of pulling an inter-realm imperial wedding out of his ass. At least a fortnight; maybe more, if he was bold enough. He’d ask Cucumber bro to advocate for him if the sect leader was reluctant to let him go.

He had never taken a day off in his entire second life. He was aching to just stop for a damn moment and spend hour after hour in complete unproductive freedom, napping on Mobei Jun’s chest. That firm, tempting chest, so wide you could play a damn pool match on its–

“Where is he?”

His pleasant fantasies were abruptly shattered by the husk voice of the Bai Zhan Peak lord.

Liu Qingge stared down at him, expecting an answer. He couldn’t even be bothered to bid his shixiong a proper greeting, the unhinged beast. So annoying! Shang Qinghua’s entire life would have been so much easier if that guy had remained a faceless name as he had written in the original Proud Immortal Demon Way. He had destroyed more property than the original flavor Bing-ge had bedded beauties.

“Liu-shidi, greetings ,” said Shang Qinghua, emphasizing the last word with frank reproach in his voice. “Shen-shixiong is in the Bamboo House, having a private conversation with Zhangmen-shixiong. They won’t be long.”

Liu Qingge hadn’t heard a word after Bamboo House. He jumped over Shang Qinghua as if he had been a frog sitting on the road and strode hastily towards the entrance of the lodge.

“Shizun, I beg of you! Wait until Zhangmen-shibo summons us!”

“Liu-shishu, please wait!”

Ming Fan and a second young man came running after Liu Qingge. The kid was flustered with embarrassment. Shang Qinghua spared him a look of sympathetic pity. It was Bai Zhan Peak’s head disciple, Yang Yixuan.

Upon spotting him, the boy stopped in his tracks and bowed to Shang Qinghua.

“Shang-shishu, greetings!” he saluted. “Did you happen to see where my Shizun–”

“Yes, yes, I do know where your Shizun is. Actually, I was expecting him to announce himself anytime now…”

A loud crack of shattered bamboo echoed in the silence of the peak.

“...and there he is. Come on, children. I guess the conversation is over. Yang Yixuan, remember to send the request for a new bamboo door to An Ding Peak first thing tomorrow morning, the repair authorizations are a bit delayed.”

“Yes, shishu. Thank you, shishu,” answered Yang Yixuan, looking exhausted.

“Why is he so fussy now?” asked Shang Qinghua, shaking his head with irritation. “He was only summoned for tea.”

“He thought Shizun had arrived with Luo Binghe,” explained Ming Fan, gasping to catch his breath. “He didn’t let me finish talking. He charged here and we could not follow his pace.”

“My apologies, shishu,” pleaded Yang Yixuan again, mortified.

“It’s not your fault, what could any of us do? He’s a force of nature. Come on, let’s go in.”

The three of them entered the Bamboo House, hopping over the shattered remains of the door.

Liu Qingge was sitting down next to Shen Qingqiu, sipping tea as if nothing had happened.

The head disciples respectfully greeted the elders gathered in the room. Shang Qinghua took the other seat next to Shen Qingqiu, while Ming Fan stood right behind him.

“Shizun, please do not sprint out like that,” pleaded Yang Yixuan, refilling his master’s cup.

“If you couldn’t keep up, you’re not training hard enough,” was Liu Qingge’s stern answer.

“Liu-shidi, can’t you be gentler with this child I myself recommended to you? In consideration of my demolished door, at least.”

“Mn.”

“I trust you’re making good progress, Yang Yixuan,” said Shen Qingqiu cordially, smiling at the boy behind his fan.

Yang Yixuan's eyes fluttered. He was forever grateful to Shen-shishu for convincing his Shizun to accept him under his tutelage. He had a secret adoration for the man, as if he were some kind of epic fairy Godmother of his.

“I’m doing my best to honor Bai Zhan Peak,” answered the boy, head high. “I hope one day to become a warrior worthy of Shizun’s teachings.”

“Did you hear that, Liu-shidi?” said Shen Qingqiu with a teasing smile, patting Liu Qingge’s hand with his fan. “Aren’t you glad I was around to recognize such promising potential back then?”

“He’s doing all right,” was all Liu Qingge had to say. He was too distracted following the playful motion of the fan on his fingers.

Shang Qinghua discreetly rolled his eyes.

Cucumber bro, you’re such a slut ! And you don’t even notice what you’re doing. Poor guy. I almost feel sorry for him and his petrified blue balls. Almost.

“So, Shang-shidi, how are the preparations for the grand event going?” asked Yue Qingyuan, smiling warmly.

And look at this guy. He’s positively glowing . He’s smiling so wide his cheeks are gonna burst like two overinflated balloons. Seriously, how does Cucumber bro do it? What a natural talent to wrap dudes around his little finger!

“Everything is going according to schedule,” Shang Qinghua answered politely. He was ready to blurt a boring stream of logistical information when he had a better idea. “Only one issue remains unsolved, and a dire one at that. I have been wracking my brains to find a solution in time for the ceremony.”

“Do tell,” urged Yue Qingyuan. “I doubt there’s much we can do to aid Shang-shidi’s expertise, but perhaps we can suggest new alternatives.”

“Well…”

“You better not be talking about the wedding without waiting for me to arrive!”

Qi Qingqi entered the room with a great flutter of robes, followed by Ning Yingying and Liu Mingyan. 

“Qi-shimei, how could we start without you, when you are to become a fundamental part of the conversation?” attacked Shen Qingqiu, not even giving her time to settle down.

The woman stared at him with a sharp look, between sarcastic and distrustful.

“Don’t start with your pompous riddles,” she countered, unmoved. “Be clear, or be quiet.”

“I’ll be brief, then. Zhangmen-shixiong kindly agreed to take the role of father of the bride during the ceremony. I was sincerely hoping Qi-shimei would do me the honor of standing by his side to receive my respects.”

Ning Yingying gasped and clapped, excited. Liu Mingyan, Ming Fan and Yang Yixuan stared at their shifu, eyes wide open in surprise and expectation. Yue Qingyuan was smiling with such rampant benevolence he could have put Buddha himself to shame. Liu Qingge sipped his tea in stubborn silence, upset they were all once again blabbing about all that wedding sham nonsense. 

Shang Qinghua looked at them all, wishing only to have a big, fat bucket of popcorn to enjoy the show properly.

Shen Qingqiu waited for Qi Qingqi’s answer, pleased with himself for putting her on the spot like that. 

Come on, Cucumber bro. That was tasteless, to say the least. Save the woman some face! 

Qi Qingqi didn’t say a word. She took a seat at the table with a dignified demeanor and motioned at Liu Mingyan to serve her tea.

“Humph. Typical of you, Qingqiu,” she declared, pointing at the criminal with her cup of tea. “Asking for such a thing so close to the date. Where am I supposed to get a proper gown so late? I bet there’s not a shred of good-quality silk left in the entire continent.”

Shen Qingqiu smiled behind his fan, well-pleased with the indirect acceptance.

“I’ll see to it, don’t worry, shimei,” chimed in Shang Qinghua, with an air of importance. “There’s plenty of luxury fabric at the palace. I’ll send the imperial seamstresses over to Xian Shu Peak with a set of samples, so shimei can choose the one she fancies the most and get measured. You have my word, a gown worthy of your position in the ceremony will be ready in time.”

“Much obliged, Shang-shixiong. See, you spoiled brat? That is how a proper gentleman should be,” she sanctioned, softly hitting Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder with her small fist. The brat in question took the hits with grace. He was tempted to make a comment about Qi Qingqi’s blushing cheeks, pleasure evident even under her mask of indifference, but he thought he’d follow Master Airplane’s advice and be a gentleman, just that one time.

“So. What did I miss?”

“Shimei, Shang-shidi was about to explain a logistical matter that troubles him. We mean to help him find a solution,” gently explained Yue Qingyuan. “Go ahead, shidi.”

Shang Qinghua nodded and cleared his throat, calibrating his bullshit-spilling skills. Maybe there was a simpler way to persuade Liu Qingge to collaborate without retorting to Cucumber bro’s pleading. 

Since the word “wedding” was mentioned, Liu Qingge lost interest in the meeting and began dissociating just like he did in every single Peak Lord monthly gathering. He was drinking tea in complete silence, not even trying to take part in the general merriment and ignoring even the occasional comment his disciple aimed at him. So, first, he needed to catch the guy’s attention. And he knew just how.

“I’m deeply concerned about Shen-shixiong’s safety.”

Bingo. Liu Qingge stiffened and raised his head, nearly dropping the cup in his hands.

“Please explain yourself,” asked Yue Qingyuan, visibly worried. “Is it serious? Had there been any life threats?”

Shen Qingqiu was about to protest and put his mind at ease, but Shang Qinghua kicked him under the table.

Shen Qingqiu winced and covered his face with his fan to curse unnoticed. Liu Qingge, who was now following every word said as if his life depended on it, noticed Shen Qingqiu frown and fixed his eyes on him. Interpreting the fleeting grimace as a sign of affliction, he began to get agitated.

“It is a delicate matter indeed, I would be lying if I said I haven’t lost sleep over it,” continued Shang Qinghua with an air so dramatic one would think he’d just found out he only had one month left to live. “According to tradition, Shen-shixiong needs to perform a bridal pilgrimage across the main streets of the imperial capital. He is expected to leave the palace on foot with a cohort of maids of honor and make a stop at each ancestral shrine to pay respects to the former emperors and ask for their blessing as Empress to be. The pilgrimage ends at the main imperial temple, where his groom awaits at the top of the stairs to–”

“Enough with all that demon nonsense, how is he in danger?” interrupted Liu Qingge, losing his patience by the minute. 

Shang Qinghua hesitated, cleared his throat, and cut to the chase.

“As you can imagine, there will be large crowds of demons and humans alike, following shixiong’s progress through the city,” he continued. “Despite the truce, there are still many dissidents who refuse to abide by the new cohabitation laws. We expect they will try to infiltrate the crowds and attempt to harm shixiong.”

Ning Yingying gasped, horrified. Anarchists trying to murder the bride were most definitely never part of her romantic dreams about her Shizun’s wedding.

“Shang-shishu, Shang-shishu! Please tell me you’ve taken measures to protect Shizun!” she exclaimed, clinging to Shen Qingqiu’s arm.

“Indeed we have,” answered Shang Qinghua, brow furrowed. He was the epitome of fraternal concern. “However, given how fragile relationships between the demon and human realms are, we have only been able to fix part of the problem. Allied demonic armies will also infiltrate the crowds and contain any demon dissidents, but…”

“Demons can’t repress human activists,” finished Qi Qingqi, guessing the gist of the issue. She frowned, tapping her jade cup with a long, pearly nail. “If they did, it could spur a political conflict.”

“Qi-shimei has seen right through it,” praised Shang Qinghua, lightly bowing his head. “As things are, I have yet to find a way to complete our security operation. And until I do, I’m afraid my Shen-shixiong will be direly exposed.”

“We have to do something!” cried Ming Fan, petrified at the idea of someone attacking his Shizun in the middle of a public event bursting with unstable demons. “Shang-shishu, I volunteer! I will escort Shizun during the pilgrimage!”

“So do I!” exclaimed Ning Yingying, clutching Shen Qingqiu’s arm so hard it was about to break in half. 

Liu Mingyan and Yang Yixuan offered their services as well, but Yue Qinggyuan raised his hand. All the head disciples kept quiet instantly.

“However commendable your intentions are, young ones, you are missing the real issue here,” he said, kindly. “Even if a legion of guardians surrounds Shen-shidi, if chaos arises from the masses, it could spur a riot. Then not only Shen-shidi would be in danger. If the conflict escalates, many innocents would be at risk as well. We must find a way to secure that any potential human infiltrates are contained without opening the gates to old animosities between species.”

“We are one of the most prominent sects there are,” pointed Qi Qingqi, fire in her eyes. “I say we use our influence and recruit as many cultivators as possible to work from the crowds.”

“Now we’re talking”, thought Shang Qinghua. Almost there. The conversation was flowing exactly as he expected; if they all thought that the solution he was aiming at was their idea, things would be infinitely easier. All that was missing was for Yue Qingyuan to endorse Qi Qingqi’s idea; the one sensible solution would be to entrust Bai Zhan Peak with the mission. If lady Fate smiled upon Cucumber bro just a little bit more, maybe the brute peak lord would even volunteer himself. 

Shang Qinghua’s eyes glistened as he followed the conversation with a perfect mask of concentration and solemnity.

Dance, my puppets! Dance!

“It’s a sensible proposition, shimei, but given how tense relations with our allied peaks still are since the peace truce was signed, I believe that asking for favors would only generate further problems,” said Yue Qingyuan, thoughtfully.

Yes. Yes! Well said, bro! 

“Zhangmen-shixiong is right,” she agreed, “But I still think the solution lies there. What need do we have, after all, to rely on others? Doesn’t Cang Qiong Mountain have more than enough resources to protect its own?”

Amen, sister! Keep going! Almost there!

“We have the numbers, and we have the skills!” intervened Ming Fan, caught up in enthusiasm. “Doesn’t Bai Zhan Peak train some of the best warriors in the region, after all?”

Excellent observation, you Bai Zhan Peak kiss-ass! Now, for the grand finale…

“That is indeed true,” declared Yue Qingyuan, turning to Liu Qingge, who had been quiet during the entire exchange. “Liu-shidi, I dare say that the best course of action lies upon you and your proficient disciples. Would you be willing to oversee the operation? 

Everyone present turned to the Bai Zhan Peak lord expectantly. Shanq Qinghua was on cloud nine. 

Ah, this is so goddam satisfying! Everything’s almost settled. Now the brute will say–

“No.”

Shang Qinghua’s grave strategist facade shattered in pieces as his jaw dropped to the ground. Luckily for him, nobody noticed his grimace, as they were all more or less equally shocked.

“What do you mean, no ?” chirped Qi Qingqi, eyebrows so high they could have touched the ceiling.

“I won’t do it,” said Liu Qingge, crossing his arms stubbornly.

“Liu-shidi…” began Yue Qingyuan, in his best conciliatory tone.

“Zhangmen-shixiong should save his breath. I won’t be persuaded to join this nonsense,” interrupted Liu Qingge, rather rudely. Kneeling beside him, Yang Yixuan looked ready to bury himself in the ground.

“Shizun–” he pleaded, in a tiny voice.

“I don’t understand this crazed– ridiculous– demon fever you all have, but I want no part in it,” he barked, standing up. He was breathing rapidly, eyes flaring. “You can frolic with demons all you want. I’m not doing it.”

“ Frolic with demons? This is an imperial wedding that will seal an inter-realm truce, you blockhead!” exclaimed Qi Qingqi, losing her composure. “Have some respect. You speak as if we were all mad here!”

“And are you not?! As if losing one of our best to the repulsive schemes of a demon wasn’t enough, now another one is following his misguided steps!” retorted Liu Qingge, pointing at Shang Qinghua.

Everyone stared at him. Taken by surprise, Shang Qinghua swallowed hard. 

“I don’t know what Liu-shidi–”

“Spare me. I know what that mark on your hand is,” seethed Liu Qingge with contempt.

Shang Qinghua yelped and covered his hand. He had been so enthralled with the debate that he hadn’t noticed that his long sleeve had rolled up his arm, leaving his mating mark exposed for all to see.

“What is that? Did a demon bite you?” inquired Qi Qingqi, grasping Shang Qinghua’s hand and examining it.

“Well– uhm, yes, but–”

“Are the demons mistreating Shang-shishu?” exclaimed Ming Fan, who was still struggling to associate Luo Binghe with something other than mayhem and destruction. “Did they hurt shishu?”

“No! No, that’s not it, this– this is…”

“This is a demonic promise mark,” calmly intervened Shen Qingqiu, who had kept his mouth shut during the whole exchange. The sudden sound of his cool, serene voice triggered a wave of silence.

“What is a demonic promise mark, Shizun?” dared ask Ning Yingying timidly.

“It symbolizes what we humans understand as an engagement,” he explained, waving his fan.

A communal gasp echoed in the room. Liu Mingyan’s eyes were glowing with a strange, hungry eagerness as she dared intervene in the conversation.

“Is Shang-shishu–” she swallowed and cleared her throat. “...marrying a demon too?”

“Shidi, is that true?” asked Yue Qingyuan, barely able to imbue his curiosity with the dignity expected from a Sect Leader.

Shang Qinghua gaped like a fish out of water, sighed deeply, and nodded. Damn Qingge, making a scene when all he had to do was graciously agree to watch Cucumber bro’s ass! Damn Cucumber bro, throwing him into the abyss like that! What the hell was he thinking?!

“Who is your betrothed?” inquired Qi Qingqi, so hungry for details she was almost foaming at the mouth. “Is it someone from the palace?”

“I– I doubt shimei– or anyone here– remembers him… it’s inconsequential, really, our main focus should be Shen-shixiong’s security, so could we please–”

“He’s my husband’s second in command, lord Mobei Jun,” interrupted Shen Qingqiu, emphasizing the word husband as he glared at Liu Qingge. 

“The ice giant!” yelped Ming Fan, forgetting himself in his shock.

“The demon General and the fragile Peak lord,” whispered Liu Mingyan, her gaze lost in dreamland.

“As Liu-shidi can see, neither Shang-shidi nor I have been mistreated in the demon realm,” declared Shen Qingqiu. “Quite the opposite, I’d say.”

“Shut it. You , did you even agree to that?” asked Liu Qingge, fuming, pointing at Shang Qinghua’s mark.

Before Shang Qinghua could answer, Shen Qingqiu snapped his fan closed.

“Does Liu-shidi truly believe that fully-fledged Cang Qiong Mountain cultivators could be simply intimidated into accepting such a fundamental, life-changing proposition?” he asked, calmly. “Is it so hard to fathom that sincere affection might be a part of the equation?”

“Don’t make me laugh, as if demons were capable of sincere affection ,” Liu Qingge retorted, shaking his head with loathing. “I’ve seen you get kidnapped and dragged around and even beaten up time and time again, I’ve been there when you were deceived and tricked, and you of all people expect me to believe in fairy tales? I will never understand the appeal that filthy race of beasts has on you all–”

He interrupted himself when he spotted Chu Hua shily leaning in from the entrance.

“I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she pleaded, shivering under the murderous gaze of the warlord before her. “I was told Her Higness Consort Shen was here.”

“Her– Highness– Consort–” slowly repeated Liu Qingge, as if the words had pierced the last remaining bits of his sanity.

Besides him, Yang Yixuan gasped. Liu Qingge turned and stared at him; the boy was blushing, his gaze fixed on the pretty demoness.

He finally lost it.

He nearly trampled over disciples, tea cups and peak lords alike as he rushed away from the Bamboo House.

“Do whatever you want. Marry an entire horde of demons for all I care. I won’t be part of it.”

He stomped off, crushing the last remains of the broken door.

The room was deadly still for a few moments. Yue Qingyuan cleared his throat and broke the silence.

“Don’t mind him, Shen-shidi, Shang-shidi. I’m sure we will be able to make do with the cultivators of the remaining peaks. I’ll see to it myself.”

“Zhangmen-shibo, I beg of you, allow me to talk to my Shizun before making any further decisions,” intervened Yang Yixuan.

“Child, you’d do better to stay clear from your Shizun for a while, lest he beheads you like one of his trophy beasts,” Qi Qingqi advised, shaking her hand dismissively. 

“I promise I won’t make the elders wait. This disciple implores shibo,” insisted the boy, bowing to Yue Qingyuan until his forehead touched the ground.

“Go ahead,” Yue Qingyuan said, smiling. “Do your best.”

“This disciple can’t thank shibo enough!” exclaimed Yang Yixuan, bowing one more time and rushing after Liu Qingge.

“That boy is going to get thoroughly chewed out,” grumbled Shang Qinghua, still resenting the outcome of his brilliant plan. 

“Have some faith in him, shidi,” said Yue Qingyuan, serving him a fresh cup of tea. “That disciple has a way with words. You might be surprised.”

Shang Qinghua was about to express his doubts about any miracles happening anytime soon when Shen Qingqiu suddenly stood up and abruptly left the Bamboo House too.

“What’s wrong with him?” asked Qi Qingqi, baffled. “Everyone’s so theatrical tonight.”

“I will go after Consort Shen,” said Chu Hua, uneasy. 

“Leave him be, child,” advised Yue Qingyuan, gently inviting her to sit with them. “I believe Liu-shidi’s words upset him. Let him clear his mind on his own for a while.”

Burning all the energy in his body, Yang Yixuan managed to catch up with his Shizun. Liu Qingge had reached the peak stairs and was about to jump on his sword to go back to Bai Zhan Peak.

“Shizun! Wait just a moment, I beg you,” panted the boy. “I need to–”

“Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it, Yixuan,” sternly warned Liu Qingge. “Get on your sword. We are leaving.”

“Shizun, please, just listen for a moment!” blurted Yang Yixuan, bowing to him. “In case I don’t see Shizun early tomorrow, this disciple wants to request formal permission to be late for morning practice.”

Liu Qingge was so surprised by the out-of-the-blue request that he inadvertently calmed down a bit.

“Why? You haven’t been late once since you entered Bai Zhan Peak. If anything, you’re always there early.”

“I want to join the Qing Jing Peak disciples and bid farewell to Shen-shishu, as it’s unlikely I’ll ever see him again.”

Liu Qingge tilted his head.

“What are you talking about? He comes here every other month.”

“I spoke to Ming Fan-shixiong. After the wedding, Shen-shishu will take permanent residence at the imperial palace. He won’t return. And only those with special permission from the demon emperor himself will be granted an audience. Unless Shizun visits himself and takes me with him, tomorrow will be the last time I see Shen-shishu.”

Yan Yixuan was improvising his ass off, making up truths from vague rumors that were mindlessly spread among the disciples, but he knew the only way to get through his Shizun’s thick skull was through sheer shock.

He would follow the man to the end of the world; any other day, he’d be right by his side, cussing the entire demon race by name and surname, but this was Shen-shishu they were talking about. He knew Liu Qingge would regret his outburst for the rest of his days if he parted ways with Shen Qingqiu like that.

He couldn’t let that happen.

“So, does Shizun grant me his permission? This disciple promises to be back as soon as Shen-shishu is gone. Forever. ”

“Are you sure he won’t be back?” asked Liu Qingge, after a moment of silence.

“Ning Yingying-shimei packed the remains of his belongings this morning.”

Only God knew what shimei had actually been doing that morning, but that last little lie worked wonders. It seemed to crash the harsh reality into his Shizun’s mind.

“So, then he–”

“Yang Yixuan. Would you kindly go back to the Bamboo House? I need a moment with your Shizun. In private.”

Liu Qingge flinched. The sound of that voice, ever serene, cut through the dark like a knife and sent shivers down his spine.

“Shen-shishu, of course. This disciple will wait there for Shizun,” the boy immediately said, hoping Shen Qingqiu hadn’t heard the tirade of bullshit he had been spilling until just then.

He bowed to his elders and rushed back, eager to leave them alone to work things out, and even more eager to have some tea with that pretty demon girl that had suddenly waltzed into his life.

“I have nothing to say,” Liu Qingge grumbled, doing his best to regain composure and sound as severe as his dry mouth allowed him. “I’m leaving.”

Shen Qingqiu waited in silence. Liu Qingge stared back at him, unable to move. After a few moments, he groaned and sheathed his sword.

“What do you want. Speak already,” he mumbled, defeated.

“I want to apologize to Liu-shidi,” Shen Qingqiu said, his head low in a deep bow.

Liu Qingge had expected one of their usual rounds of bickering; the apologetic gesture threw him off entirely.

“What are you doing? Raise your head! What do you have to apologize for?” he blabbed awkwardly.

Shen Qingqiu complied and looked him in the eyes. Liu Qingge scoffed and diverted his gaze.

“Liu-shidi was pressured into doing something that goes against his beliefs,” Shen Qingqiu explained. “I never meant to trouble you so. I am sorry you were inconvenienced like that.”

“Inconvenienced?” repeated Liu Qingge, firing up again. “Do you think of this as a mere inconvenience ? That doesn’t even begin to describe it. You– you—

“Go on.”

“You are disappearing into the demon realm and I can’t do anything about it,” Liu Qingge blurted, overwhelmed. “I don’t understand it. Why would you allow them to trample all over you, to force you into their ways–”

“Liu Qingge, do you perhaps think I’m being coerced into this marriage?” asked Shen Qingqiu, waving his fan as composedly as he could.

“Aren’t you?” exclaimed Liu Qingge, almost desperate. “Do you even want all of this? One day you’re fooling around with your disciple, and the next day you suddenly have to take a high-profile position, show yourself to the crowds like a freak on display, and adopt the customs and rules of a realm entirely different from your own. Aren’t you terrified?”

“I am,” declared Shen Qingui, voice hoarse.

Liu Qingge was startled. He hadn’t expected such a resolute admission. Despite himself, he dared to entertain the faintest hint of hope.

“Are you so eager to leave Cang Qiong Mountain… Qing Jin Peak, your disciples, to leave us all behind?”

He burned to add “to leave me behind,” but he restrained himself. His voice was not quite under command.

“I’m not.”

Liu Qingge walked towards him, encouraged. His heart was beating so fast he could hardly breathe normally.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said, his expression soft. “None of it. You have a choice.”

“I know I do.”

“Then stay.”

“I won’t.”

“Why?!”

“Because I love him.”

Liu Qingge flinched. After all that had happened, after all that time, he had always clung to the conviction that Shen Qingqiu had been pretty much pressured into caving to Luo Binghe. He had succumbed to the half-demon’s relentless coercing, sly and wickedly patient, until he found himself unable to leave. It was not out of character for him; his kindness and his chronic apathy were a cursed combination, and Liu Qingge had found some sort of twisted comfort in the hope that someday Shen Qingqiu would finally snap out of it, kick Luo Binghe’s ass, and return home.

The tragic news of Shen Qingqiu’s elopement and the subsequent announcement of a public wedding had been slowly eroding his last shreds of hope. Finally, right then, Shen Qingqiu’s declaration had shattered whatever remained of Liu Qingge’s most private dreams.

“You love him,” he repeated, quietly.

“Is that really news to you?”

“First time I hear about it,” Liu Qingge said, dejectedly. “Most of the time it seemed like you just… humored him.”

Shen Qingqiu sighed.

“I may have at first, but it’s different now.”

“I bet it is.”

“I mean it,” declared Shen Qingqiu, as solemnly as he could. “I understand shidi’s hesitation, I do. But I assure you, my feelings for Binghe are genuine, and everything I do, I do with complete conviction. If I had the chance to go back in time and choose again, I would take the same steps without a doubt–”

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Liu Qingge interrupted, finally gathering the courage to look into Shen Qingqiu’s eyes. “He never did, not even when he was just another one of your disciples. You always spoiled him so much, you let him get away with anything–”

Shen Qingqiu patiently let him rant his heart out, doing his best to keep his vexation under control each time his shidi got a little too carried away with the epithets. He knew he was hurting, in his own rough way, and that his actions stemmed from genuine worry for him.

He simply didn’t want to let the peculiar kind of friendship they had developed over so many years die over petty resentments and unresolved misunderstandings.

“I accept shidi’s words, and I understand your outrage. I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t even blame you if my marriage failed and you rejoiced over it. I–”

“Do you think I would rejoice over your suffering?” interrupted Liu Qingge, painfully riled up. “I would never . I’m so stupid I’d rather have you live happily ever after with that scumbag beast than see you regret your choices.”

“You’re not stupid. If anything, you’re kind. More than I deserve.”

“What you deserve is to be happy. Truly happy.”

“I am doing what I must to be happy.”

“You’re free to make your own choices, Qingqiu,” insisted Liu Qingge one more time, taking his hands on his own. His eyes were sparkling with fierce determination. “Tell me. Be honest. Is this really what you want?”

Shen Qingqiu looked up and smiled widely at him. The frank, open gesture had on Liu Qingge the same impact it had had on Yue Qingyuan. The mighty Bai Zhan Peak lord held his breath in a daze, soaking in the sunlight.

“As scared and uncertain as I am, this is truly what I want. I love and I am loved in return. I am cherished, protected, spoiled even. If there’s one thing troubling me–”

He choked on his words. To Liu Qingge’s horror, Shen Qingqiu’s eyes filled with tears that soon were rolling down his cheeks with alarming intensity.

“What’s wrong?” Liu Qingge stuttered, absolutely out of his element. What the hell did one do in a situation like that? “What troubles you?”

“What troubles me–” Shen Qingqiu sobbed, his words incoherent. He couldn’t stop. He was in a susceptible mood and his previous heart-to-heart with Yue Qingyuen was still fresh in his mind. A gate had been opened and he couldn’t help but be dragged down by wave after wave of unstoppable sentiment.

“Stop this wild weeping, I can’t understand a word you’re saying!” yelped Liu Qingge, terrified like he had never been throughout his entire career as God of War.

“What troubles me,” began Shen Qingqiu again. “Is the knowledge that I will get married while my dear shidi is so set against it. I know you won’t attend the ceremony, and that you will never visit the palace, and I respect that. But I can’t help to grieve about it. I’m not made of stone, you know?”

Liu Qingge stared at him with a complicated expression, speechless.

And utterly defeated.

“I’ll do it.”

Shen Qingqiu looked up at him in confusion, still wiping his eyes.

“You’ll do what?”

“I’ll arrange the operation to keep things under control at your wedding. Bai Zhan Peak will honor its reputation.”

Shen Qingqiu blinked. How had their melodramatic conversation ended in such a mundane tone? No matter how long he had known that man, he simply couldn’t understand how his brain worked.

“I said you don’t have to–”

“And I said I’ll do it,” Liu Qingge declared, back to his stubborn self. “I just want to make clear that me doing this doesn't mean I'm giving... any of this my blessing.”

Before Shen Qingqiu had a chance to say another word, Liu Qingge drew his sword and got ready to flee. He had spent the emotional energy of a lifetime in that short conversation and he was thoroughly burned out.

“I understand,” Shen Qingqiu said, resigned. “I appreciate shidi’s kindness.”

Liu Qingge noticed him pouting like a child and sighed.

“Qingqiu.”

“What?”

“I will never give you my blessing.”

“You said that already–”

“But I do wish for your happiness.”

Shen Qingqiu felt a knot in his throat. His eyes burned again.

“I will keep you safe on your wedding day. It’s a promise,” he proclaimed fiercely. “Zhangmen-shixiong is probably looking for alternatives. Tell him he’s wasting his time.”

Shen Qingqiu smiled and bowed.

“I am forever troubling Liu-shidi.”

“Yes, you are,” Liu Qingge agreed, rather rudely. “And I’m fine with that.”

Reluctant to say goodbye, he simply jumped on his sword and flew away into the night.

Shen Qingqiu watched him go until his eyes could no longer follow him, and then slowly returned to the Bamboo House.

He felt happy. Entirely exhausted and a bit groggy, like one usually feels after a long, emotional day with several episodes of crying, but happy after all.

His strained relationship with both Yue Qingyuan and Liu Qingge had been weighing in his mind and heart; mending the bond he shared with them in time to make them part of his big day was a triumph he hadn’t been sure could be accomplished.

He felt light and free. And hungry. He rushed his pace, hoping to be back to the Bamboo house before all the snacks were gone.

When he crossed the open threshold, he found quite a lovely, domestic picture; everyone was sharing tea and chatting with spirit; they were clearly squeezing the juicy particulars of the engagement out of Master Airplane, who was blushing so hard even the tips of his ears were crimson red.

Even little Chu Hua seemed to be quite content, enjoying the enthusiastic attentions of one smitten Yang Yixuan.

It was almost a shame to interrupt them, but only one lotus pastry remained, and it had his name on it.

“ Cucum– Shen-shixiong, you’re back!” exclaimed Shang Qinghua, joyful to have someone steal his thunder. If he were forced to spill more deets about his love life he would implode on the spot. “How did it go?”

“Liu-shidi asked me to tell Yue-shixiong that there is no need to plan alternative measures,” Shen Qingqiu announced, resuming his place and quickly claiming the pastry. “Bai Zhan Peak will take care of the operation.”

Qi Qingqi chuckled, rolling her eyes.

“That man is all bark and no bite. As if he could refuse anything you ask of him,” she teased, with a knowing giggle. 

“I didn’t ask, he agreed to do it himself,” protested Shen Qingqiu, doing his very best to eat slowly and elegantly. “Nobody can coax Liu Qingge into doing anything.”

Shang Qinghua shook his head. Such a waste of potential. He couldn’t help but think that with his innate, oblivious talent to hoard male favor, Cucumber bro could have owned quite the suitor collection. Maybe he had spent so long in Luo Binghe’s close proximity that his plot privileges were starting to rub on him, because Shang Qinghua could definitely recognize some protagonist material in his asshole of a bro.

Who knew? In that universe of parallel worlds of them, maybe there was a reality in which Shen Qingqiu was the main character of his own tale. Perhaps even Shang Qinghua himself, an unassuming secondary character, was the protagonist of someone else’s story. 

He fondly touched his mating mark. He was thankful Mobei Jun existed and had claimed him as his own.

The last thing Shang Qinghua needed was to fall into a world where he ended up as one of the members of Cucumber bro’s harem.

Chapter Text

“Shizun, may I have a piece of those cute sugar lotus candies?”

“Sure, here you go.”

“Shizun, may I have one too? Are there any of those puffy cream buns left?”

“Take the last one, there’s another box in that bag under your seat. Yang Yixuan, don’t you want anything?”

“Yes, thank you, Shen-shishu. I’ll take a pineapple bun.”

“Chu Hua, choose one too. No need to be shy. There’s plenty for everyone.”

“If Consort insists… These are truly delicious. And they look so pretty too.”

“Shang-shidi, are you sure you don’t want to try a peach roll?”

Shang Qinghua shook his head in irritated denial. He had hoped to enjoy a peaceful, quiet trip back to the palace; maybe he’d take a little nap to charge up. As things turned out, he found himself stuffed into a carriage bursting with enthusiastic youths on a sugar rush.

He cursed Cucumber bro and his unexpected emotional blasts that seemed to affect people the same way the moon influenced the tides.

After Liu Qingge’s dignified departure, the group gathered in the Bamboo House had turned their questions in the direction of gowns and fashion, and the prickly topic of the bridal dress had come up.

Before Shang Qinghua managed to divert the conversation to less controversial grounds, Cucumber bro had taken the chance to bitch about how hard it was to move in his wedding dress. Then, without warning, he casually asked Ming Fan and Ning Yingying if they would like to join Chu Hua in carrying the long bridal veil throughout the pilgrimage. 

Shen Qingqiu dropped that emotional bomb on the youngsters expecting them to politely agree or decline; nothing could have prepared him for their reactions. The head disciples imploded in a fit of weeping so emotive that Cucumber bro couldn’t help but join them in himself. By the time they all managed to calm down, the kids were so reluctant to part with their Shizun that each clung to one of his arms as if they were little children.

Still under the benevolent effects of the reconciliation with his Xiao Jiu, Yue Qingyue readily gave them permission to take a spontaneous leave of absence and go back with their Shizun to the palace, to keep him company until the wedding day.

Only God knew who the hell would run Qing Jing Peak in their collective absence. Shang Qinghua didn’t ask. He just hoped someone remembered to feed Bao Bao and the flock of juniors left behind.

The next morning, as they waited for the demon carriage, Liu Qingge made an appearance to add Yang Yixuan to the party. Appointed to help his Shizun with the security operation, Bai Zhang Peak’s head disciple was instructed to conduct a thorough reconnaissance of the area and inform back to his master. Also, as cooperation was unavoidable, Yang Yixuan was also designated as an official liaison between Liu Qingge and Mobei Jun.

“Liaison my ass,” thought Shang Qinghua, as he watched the warlord bury the kid under a mountain of orders and instructions. “You just don’t want to set foot in Binghe’s lair.”

Pah, it was better that way. Yang Yixuan was competent and a million times easier to handle than his brute master. Shang Qinghua wondered if they’d all fit in the carriage.

They did, if barely; the girls had taken a seat on each side of Shen Qingqiu, while Shang Qinghua was mercilessly squeezed between the muscular frames of Ming Fan and Yang Yixuan.

The entourage of disciples was having the time of their life; they were excited by the ride in a carriage pulled by dragons, the change in scenery, the unexpected vacation, and their participation in the upcoming grand event. 

As if that wasn’t enough to have them bubbling in an exhilarated high, Shen Qingqiu kept stuffing them with candy. Shang Qinghua felt like a tired bus driver in charge of taking a coddling teacher and his herd of toddlers on a field trip. Even the demure and proper Chu Hua was influenced by the merriment and began behaving like a regular teenage girl.

Despite his crankiness, Shang Qinghua didn’t suffer long; the four demonic stallions worked as fast as ever, and they touched the grounds of the palace before the voracious squad finished off the last remains of the snacks.

Eager to get rid of his charges as fast as possible, Shang Qinghua conjured all of his logistical prowess. In the blink of an eye, he sent a messenger to notify the emperor about the new guests, arranged lodging for the three disciples, and designed suitable attendees to take care of them.

Ning Yingying and Ming Fan were given rooms adjacent to Shen Qingqiu’s temporal chambers, with the express purpose of having the children keep Cucumber bro’s fickle mood stable until the wedding day. 

Yang Yixuan was given a room closer to Mobei Jun’s. Shang Qinghua was not thrilled about that, especially since he was meant to share Mobei Jun’s chambers from then on, but it was the best course of action; they would need to summon the kid at all hours during the next four days. It was more practical to have him a couple of doors away.

Once everything was settled and the three disciples were busy wolfing down an abundant lunch with Shen Qingqiu, Shang Qinghua took a deep breath and went straight to Mobei Jun’s room.

Even though he had pretty much sprinted there in his excitement, he stopped at the door, hesitating.

Mobei Jun had been clear; Shang Qinghua was supposed to share his room. His old chambers had probably been emptied out already. However, he still felt that simply waltzing in as if he owned the place was an unforgivable liberty he couldn’t bring himself to take. Besides, he hadn’t seen Mobei Jun for over a day and a half. Stupid as he knew he was, he felt shy and insecure. 

He turned around. He’d better join the others for lunch. Perhaps their incessant chattering would give him the courage to go back and at least knock on the door.

He hadn’t taken three steps away when the double doors opened with a slam.

Shang Qinghua squealed as two strong arms raised him in the air.

“Where are you going?” asked Mobei Jun, giving him a perplexed look. Shang Qinghua squirmed in his hold, flustered.

“You heard me?”

“I felt you,” corrected Mobei Jun. “I was waiting for you to come in, but then you walked away.”

“I’m sorry, I thought– I thought it might be inappropriate to just walk in. So I–”

“How is it inappropriate for my mate to enter our chambers?” asked the demon, with a baffled frown. “Is this some kind of human custom I don’t know?”

“No, not at all! I just– I–” one of the silver clasps of Mobei Jun’s cloak had unfastened when he picked Shang Qinghua up , so now his shoulder and part of his chest were showing. Shang Qinghua stole a peek and his head went straight to the gutter. He whined and covered his face with both hands, embarrassed of his unholy urges.

“I was shy, okay?” he admitted, shaking his head. He was acting like a bashful damsel while being held like a bashful damsel. Just how low could a guy’s manly pride fall? The worst part of it was that he liked it. He really liked it. Being manhandled like that, picked up as if he weighed nothing by that huge-ass demon designed after his very own fantasies.

Mobei Jun sensed the shift in Shang Qinghua’s body temperature and heart rate and felt his own organism reacting to it. He clenched his teeth.

He walked back into his chambers and slammed the door closed behind them. 

Shang Qinghua barely had time to feel the relieving coolness of the room before he landed on a vast bed.

“My king,” he gasped, eyes wide open as he followed Mobei Jun’s every move with ill-concealed readiness. The demon dropped his cloak on the ground and crawled into bed with him, resting the weight of his entire body on Shang Qinghua.

“Until we return to my lands, you’re not allowed to act shy with me,” he muttered, brushing his lips against Shang Qinghua’s earlobe. “It’s too enticing. Behave .”

That one last word sent a thrill of shivers down Shang Qinghua’s spine. 

“You want me to–” he swallowed, voice shivering. “Behave?”

Mobei Jun lightly bit the side of his neck.

“Be good.”

Ah, Shang Qinghua truly was a pitiful victim of his own twisted brain. What a way to discover that being scolded riled him up. It brought his behavior throughout the entirety of their relationship from day one into a whole new light.

His whole body responded to that impossibly alluring person breathing heavily on top of him. Shang Qinghua wasn’t very experienced, so that melting sensation of losing himself to sheer impulses was entirely new to him. How tempting it was to simply let go. His eyelids were droopy and he half-opened his mouth in anticipation.

Mobei Jun flinched at the inviting sight. He was in no better shape, but managed to hold back just in time.

“Tell me how the visit went,” he said, voice hoarse with restraint. “Did Consort Shen convince Liu Qingge to join the security operation?”

If Mobei Jun had intended to turn Shang Qinghua off, mentioning Cucumber Bro and the Bai Zhan Peak brute in the same sentence, out of the blue, while sporting a partial was effective enough to kill his libido for the next two or three decades.

“My king, is that really what you were thinking about right now?!” Shang Qinghua whelped, squinting his eyes with the most betrayed expression.

Mobei Jun sighed deeply and got off him. He laid down by Shang Qinghua’s side and hugged his thin waist with one arm.

“This is not the time or place,” he said, apologetically. “Not yet. Not here. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

He looked so forlorn Shang Qinghua couldn’t help but kiss his forehead, right on his demonic mark.

“I understand. I do,” he said, with a smile. “But I don’t think you fully grasp the effect you have on me. Spare my poor heart, will you? Be good.”

Mobei Jun chuckled and kissed him on the lips. If only Shang Qinghua knew for how long he had pictured that moment in his head. It had surprised Mobei Jun himself. He wasn’t aware that he had an imagination potent enough to picture certain things in such detail. It was almost ungodly.

“To answer your previous, terribly ill-timed question, Liu-shidi will indeed help us.”

“Oh. Good. That simplifies things.”

“He has sent a representative to arrange his side of the process while he selects his best disciples and trains them for the event. His name is Yang Yixuan. He’s Bai Zhan Peak’s head disciple.”

“Is he competent?” asked Mobei Jun, eyebrows knit together. He had expected the peak lord to take over the task personally. What good could an inexperienced pup do?

“Very much so. Even our sect leader commended him. I’ve scheduled a conference in an hour, so you two can meet and draft a strategy to present to lord Luo.”

“Very well.”

“How is lord Luo doing?” asked Shang Qinghua, picking up on Mobei Jun’s fleeting change of expression when Luo Binghe’s name was mentioned.

“He could be better,” answered Mobei Jun with a sigh. “He misses Consort Shen.”

“Were you able to distract him?”

“Yes, but as soon as he’s done with whatever we are doing, he goes back to–,” he interrupted himself. Shang Qinghua felt he wanted to say “whining”, but it was too unbecoming for a General. “It’s a good thing the wedding is so close.”

“You can’t wait for it to happen, can you?” teased Shang Qinghua.

“I caught him smelling Consort Shen’s inner robes,” muttered Mobei Jun, burying his face in Shang Qinghua’s shoulder, as if trying to rub off the cursed scene from his mind.

Shang Qinghua laughed out loud. That damn yandere! Cucumber bro really had taken a magnificent stallion and reduced him to a simping pony.

“He also asked something strange of me,” added Mobei Jun.

“What was it?”

“He kept talking about Consort Shen inviting your sect leader and martial sister to take the place of the bride’s family in the wedding,” explained Mobei Jun. “And then he asked me to do the same for him. And to hold this on my hands when he and Consort bowed to the parents .”

He reached into his pockets and produced an old piece of jewelry. Shang Qinghua gasped.

“The jade pendant,” he said, reaching out and retreating, not daring to touch the heirloom. 

“You know what this is?” asked Mobei Jun, intrigued. “Binghe didn’t explain. He just asked me to hold onto it until the ceremony. I think it’s a counterfeit. I forgot to tell him.”

“Don’t. He knows it is. This is a gift from his late mother,” explained Shang Qinghua. He was low-key excited. He had written that pendant into the world, and now he was actually seeing it. “It’s a very sentimental item. It shows how much he trusts you. Take good care of it, my king.”

“Oh. I see. Thank you, Qinghua.”

Shang Qinghua looked at him put the pendant away a bit more carefully, and fought back the urge to ask one of the many questions he had never dared to breathe.

Mobei Jun turned to him and a faint smile drew itself on his lips.

“Something’s on your mind,” he guessed. “Go ahead.”

“I hope I’m not overstepping my boundaries…”

“And I hope that once we bond, you understand that you can overstep over whatever you want,” the demon said, nuzzling him. “Speak.”

“Are you and lord Luo… friends ?” Shang Qinghua whispered, still uneasy despite Mobei Jun’s reassurance.

“I suppose we are,” said Mobei Jun, tilting his head. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but it doesn’t really show. And I’ve always wondered…”

Shang Qinghua swallowed. His next question was one that had tormented him for years.

“I’ve always wondered why you showed up at the Immortal Alliance Conference and awakened lord Luo’s demon blood yourself. We had planned to release a Black Moon Python-Rhino. What changed your mind?”

Mobei Jun thought for a few moments, as if he had never really considered it.

“I don’t know,” he simply said, shrugging. “I spotted him in the crowd and felt compelled to do it. So I did.”

Shang Qinghua blinked, baffled. He suspected the System must have had something to do with it. They had planned the Immortal Alliance Conference shitfest to the detail for months; a simple impulse seemed too weak of a motive. 

Cucumber bro always theorized that the System lived and breathed to fulfill Luo Binghe’s needs. They had debated about it more than once. Binghe wanted to be validated by his teacher, so the System yeeted Shen Jiu away and brought Shen Yuan in. Who better to spoil the boy to his heart’s content than a die-hard Binghe fan? Later on, Binghe wanted to romance Shen Qingqiu; the System upgraded itself to trigger intimate moments between them and, fuck, guided Cucumber bro to rewrite the whole damn thing into a glaring Danmei.

It wouldn’t be so hard to believe that the System could have had a specific purpose in mind for Mobei Jun. But what? Shang Qinghua had always wondered if Mobei Jun’s interference in the Endless Abyss arc had influenced Luo Binghe’s early return, but there was no way to know that other than asking Binghe himself about the ordeal, and Cucumber bro would rather die than bring it up. It was still too painful.

“I wonder what happened down there,” muttered Shang Qinghua without noticing. Mobei Jun heard him.

“Is there something you want to know?” he said gently. “Just ask.”

“Lord Luo told you about his time in the Abyss?” exclaimed Shang Qinghua, surprised.

“He didn’t have to,” answered Mobei Jun, slightly tilting his head. “I was there with him. Didn’t you know that?”

Shang Qinghua opened his mouth to speak and closed it back without making a sound. His brain was rebooting. How was he supposed to know that?!

“You were down there? With him? The whole time?” he inquired, sitting down to better face Mobei Jun.

“I was.”

“I never even noticed you had left! I saw you every week–”

“I returned now and then to check on you,” Mobei Jun admitted. “Make sure you were still around. If I left for long, I was afraid you wouldn’t be there when I returned.”

Shang Qinghua swallowed the wave of emotions triggered by that casual statement of long-term devotion and kept it safe to explore some other time. His curiosity had priority now.

“How did you end up down there with Binghe?” he asked, doing his best to hold back his enthusiasm. Mobei Jun smiled. He liked being questioned like that, with such eagerness. Probably due to fear or indifference, Shang Qinghua had never shown authentic curiosity for anything he did. Qinghua was now so interested that he even called the emperor by name without noticing it. Mobei Jun was enjoying the conversation immensely. 

“I recognized his demonic seal, so after he fell, I went after him. I was curious to see in which state a newly-awakened Heavenly Demon would survive such a fall,” Mobei Jun explained. “When I found him…”

He frowned, recalling the ghastly image. Badly beaten and disheveled, limbs broken, two bleeding stab wounds. A glowing Heavenly demonic mark so frenzied it covered his entire face and part of his neck. But the truly unsettling part…

“He was weeping. Wildy, as if… I can’t tell. I had never seen someone grieve like that, and I haven’t since,” he said, slowly. “And he looked so young. A boy. I hadn’t noticed when we fought before, given how he handled himself. But then…”

“You felt sorry for him, didn’t you?” guessed Shang Qinghua, brushing the demon’s long hair behind his ear. Mobei Jun relished the small gesture.

“And guilty,” he admitted, nuzzling Shang Qinghua’s hand. “He was down there because of me, after all. So I decided to stay around for a while. Until he got back on his feet.”

“You protected him?”

“At first. Not that he asked. He didn’t say a word for weeks. He just walked around aimlessly, not even defending himself from the creatures and other demons. I eventually got tired of him and beat him up.”

“You attacked him?” gasped Shang Qinghua.

“I meant to kill him,” corrected Mobei Jun nonchalantly. “He clearly didn’t want to live, and I was bored of protecting him. But I just couldn’t leave him there. I thought I should kill two birds with one stone and get it over with.”

“Did he… fight back?”

“He did. He went berserk. Cursing us demons, as if he wasn’t one of us. He nearly killed me.”

Shang Qinghua swallowed, shivering at the idea. He pushed back the vivid images his merciless imagination was feeding him.

“How did you escape?”

“I didn’t. I couldn’t,” confessed Mobei Jun. “He spared me. As a way to repay me, he said. I didn’t really understand. But it didn’t matter. Since that day we navigated the Abyss together. I offered to take him back with me to my domains, but he refused. He wanted to stay there, until the day he was strong enough to leave without my help.”

“Three years,” said Shang Qinghua in a daze. So he was right. Mobei Jun had indeed sped up Binghe’s leveling-up journey.

“Indeed. I was expecting him to spend at least a decade, but once he embraced his heritage and began listening to my advice he developed quickly. He was soon at my level, and then he left me behind entirely. I saw him turn into something I had never seen before. Something worth following. Someone worth fighting side by side with. We’ve been together ever since.”

“No wonder he wants to bow to you during the ceremony,” exclaimed Shang Qinghua, face glowing with excitement at the new information. He was burning to tell everything to Cucumber bro. “No wonder he trusted you with his pendant. You are more than friends, my king. I’d say sworn brothers is a better fit.”

“Like you and Consort Shen?” asked Mobei Jun, considering the idea.

Shang Qinghua was a bit taken aback by the innocent question. His love-hate relationship with Shen Qingqiu was an everchanging monster that he had never taken the time to label.

But it was pointless to deny it. He had grown to love the petty bastard. And he dared say the feeling was reluctantly mutual.

“Yes, like Qingqiu and I,” he admitted begrudgingly. “Although he can be thoroughly irritating more often than not, to say it kindly.”

Mobei Jun blinked, chuckled and hugged Shang Qinghua’s waist. He was so very pleased. It was the first time Qinghua had spoken ill of Consort Shen in front of him. He was delighted to see him finally loosen up and gain the confidence to be himself around him.

Shang Qinghua ran his fingers through the endless curtain of raven-black hair. He was lost in thought. 

What Mobei Jun had told him was consistent with Cucumber bro’s theory about the System. Luo Binghe was destitute, betrayed, and entirely alone. He had lost his mentor and only friend.

So even before Shen Qingqiu pushed Binghe away, the System had provided him with a substitute mentor and only friend.

Ah, System! You cunning, biased jerk. That was playing it too close. What if Binghe, after forcefully departing from Cucumber bro with a broken heart, had shifted his affections to Mobei Jun? It would have been a natural, more fitting development. An entirely independent novel could have been written about it. Shang Qinghua would have never been able to compete with Luo fucking Binghe if he had decided he wanted Mobei Jun for himself.

Or would he?

Even as he put the pieces of the mystery together, Shang Qinghua was still uncertain about what his role really was in the ordeal. However, as he witnessed the mighty ice demon lord snuggling on his lap like a puppy, he couldn’t help but feel that after all, he was right where he was meant to be. That the turn of events they knew was the only possible way in which things could have happened.

“I love you,” he said, without thinking. The words were out before he realized it. “I love you, Mobei Jun.”

“Shuang Xue.”

Shang Qinghua blinked, confused.

“What?”

“My name is Shuang Xue,” said the demon in a small voice, resting his face on Shang Qinghua’s hands. “Every time you say those words to me… I want you to use my name, not my title. Please?”

Shang Qinghua felt a knot in his throat. Dammit! At this pace, he’d end up tearing up more often than Luo Binghe and Cucumber bro combined.

He bent over and kissed Mobei Jun on the lips. 

“I love you, A-Xue.”

Chapter Text

Shang Qinghua jumped up with a gasp. His heart was racing as the turned his head to the window to scrutinize the status of the sky. The dark, starless firmament of the demon realm was hard to read, but he estimated it was about one or two hours before sunrise.

“My king! My king,” he whined in an urgent whisper, gently shaking Mobei Jun’s arm. “It’s nearly dawn. Can I please get off bed now?”

Mobei Jun grumbled, half-asleep, and trapped Shang Qinghua between his arms.

“If you free yourself, I’ll let you go,” he muttered, burying his face in his mate’s messy hair.

“Not fair! Totally not fair! You know I’m not strong enough,” whelped Shang Qinghua, squirming like an eel out of water in the unrelenting clasp of the demon’s embrace.

“Then you’ll have to stay here all day.”

As much as he secretly melted at Mobei Jun’s playful side, that was certainly not the time to indulge in cuddling games. It was finally time. The dreaded wedding day had arrived at last.

Shang Qinghua had been so terrified of oversleeping that he had meant to spend the entire night before awake. He was so tense that he doubted he’d be able to catch any sleep anyway; he’d better make the most of the long night hours to get a head start on the many last-minute details that he’d have to take care of during the day.

However, Mobei Jun had categorically opposed the plan; Shang Qinghua was tired enough as it was, and it would not do to add an extra dose of sleep deprivation to the high-stress cocktail that awaited him. 

The demon had dragged the fussy little man to his bed very early in the evening and held him there by force until Shang Qinghua gave in and dozed off between his arms. 

Despite Mobei Jun’s efforts, Shang Qinghua had not enjoyed a night of repairing rest at all. He kept jumping up every two hours, frantically asking what time it was, confused and convinced he was late for everything, and would fret in the bed like a squirmy chipmunk until Mobei Jun patiently nursed him back to sleep.

Even during the brief periods of slumber, he was hopelessly restless. He’d talk in his sleep, ordering Chu Hua to find Consort Shen’s slippers, giving indications to Yang Yixuan or whining about the caterers being late. He often scolded some Cucumber-something someone in a strange dialect that Mobei Jun didn’t understand. 

These episodes usually were complemented by sudden reflex movements, so Mobei Jun spent most of his night getting kicked and slapped in the face until he’d trap Shang Qinghua’s limbs under his own to calm him down.

Despite how tired he himself was, the demon had enjoyed the night immensely. Shang Qinghua was so unfairly cute even in that pitiful state. He tightened his grip over his waist, reluctant to let him go.

“Please, release me, my king” begged Shang Qinghua, wrapping his arms around the demon’s neck in a desperate plea. “I have so much to do, I need to start now or I’ll go mad with anxiety. Please? A-xue?”

Hearing the endearing pet name defeated Mobei Jun on the spot. He reluctantly loosened his arms, stealing a kiss before Shang Qinghua darted away to hurriedly put on his working robes.

“You should get ready as well, my king, Liu Qingge will arrive soon to discuss the last details of the security operation with you. I’d like to cross that from the list as soon as possible.”

Mobei Jun frowned. He had absolutely no desire to deal with that fellow, but it couldn’t be helped. Yang Yixuan had proven to deserve all the praise his seniors had given him; he was clever and efficient, and so receptive to Mobei Jun’s experience and suggestions that they soon arranged the strategy from start to end. The boy had returned to Bai Zhan Peak to get his master’s approval, and it was arranged that Liu Qingge would go to the demon realm with the selected entourage of senior apprentices as early as possible on the wedding day.

The cultivators were to meet Mobei Jun’s army of demons to exchange pleasantries and receive their last instructions before leaving to infiltrate the crowds.

Not unlike their respective leaders, ice demons were an impatient, no-nonsense race; Bai Zhan Peak cultivators were a pack of untamed, rabid dogs. Shang Qinghua was so nervous about the potential outcome of such a ticking bomb of a meeting that he tied his belt backward.

Mobei Jun got up from the bed, put on his inner robes, and went to Shang Qinghua, who was cursing the belt as if it were alive and misbehaving on purpose.

“Let me,” the demon said, taking care of the tricky operation. Shang Qinghua blushed and let him handle it freely, eyes fixed on the dexterity with which those sharp, dark claws tied up the thin silk cords and fastened the feeble copper clasp. “There. You need to calm down. You’ll get sick at this rate.”

He bent down, cupped Shang Qinghua’s cheeks between his hands, and kissed him lightly on the lips. He then placed his forehead against Shang Qinghua’s, and released a wave of cold spiritual energy.

The rush of minty coolness mitigated Shang Qinghua’s feverish, self-induced agitation. He sighed and breathed a few times, holding Mobei Jun’s cold hands with his own.

“That actually helps,” he admitted, closing his eyes. He timidly returned the kiss.

“Good,” said Mobei Jun, pleased. “I’ll get dressed. Qinghua. Do I have to wear the fancy robes already?” he asked, alarmed. Those clothes were so delicate and frail that he dreaded accidentally tearing them. If he had to engage with the unpredictable Bai Zhan Peak lord enveloped in such flimsy fabrics, he’d get beaten up like a child.

“Oh, no, not yet. Only about an hour before the wedding ceremony, once you and lord Luo leave for the Temple. I’ll change into my formal attire around the same time. I’ll send someone to remind you too.”

“Oh. Fine then,” said the demon, relieved. He put on his usual set of pants, boots, and fur cloak. “When is the ceremony exactly?”

Shang Qinghua had already checked the time and had his battered planner opened before him.

“Eight hours from now, an hour after noon. I better get going. I’ll see you later.”

“Stay calm,” said Mobei Jun, kissing the top of his head. “It will be over soon. And then we’ll go home.”

Home. Shang Qinghua blinked, taking in the weight of that word. It dawned on him that for once in his life, he actually belonged somewhere. It was a big emotional impact to process when he had barely enough free brain cells to allocate to the task.

“Can’t wait,” he said, smiling. He pushed the emotions to the back of his mind. He’d deal with them later. Man, that later couldn’t get there fast enough.

He left the haven of Mobei Jun’s chambers and dove into the harsh pool of impending obligations.

The last three days had gone by in a rushed blur; he blessed his past self for coordinating things so as to leave some leeway of time to solve unexpected crises.

During those dreadful 72 hours, gowns had to be made for the improvised veil-carrying party that matched the one made for Chu Hua, plus the ceremonial robes for Qi Qingqi and a formal set of working robes for Yang Yixuan. Countless last-minute adjustments were required for the bridal gown and the groom’s robes. One of the demonic caterers had died during a turf war that also killed half of his staff, so one of the replacement Plan B caterers had to be hired and paid. Five maids of honor got food poisoning from eating chocolate cakes they had stolen from the human meals storage installed in the palace kitchen and had to be replaced, and their replacements trained. Even the unpredictable weather of the demon realm had refused to cooperate, releasing an unexpected heavy hail storm that destroyed many of the outdoor decorations. 

All those things were unfortunate and headache-inducing, but not unexpected; they were dealt with timely and without much hassle. The one crisis that Shang Qinghua had dreaded since day one hadn’t actually happened yet, and it got him worried to the point of obsession. He even had nightmares about it. 

“Maybe it won’t happen at all,” thought Shang Qinghua, trying to convince himself to brush off the feeling of impending doom that weighed on him. He knocked on Yang Yixuan’s door. “It doesn’t have to happen. You always expect the worse.”

Yang Yixuan opened the door immediately after the first knock.

“Whoa, that was fast,” Shang Qinghua said, pleased with the kid’s readiness. “Were you waiting by the door?”

“Shang-shishu, good morning. I was,” admitted the head disciple. He was already wearing his formal robes. “I barely slept at all last night. I’m so nervous I feel like throwing up.”

Ah, child, I feel ya. I’m almost wearing my intestines as a bow tie here.

“Don’t worry, you did an excellent job. Everything will be all right. It will,” he said, more to himself than to the boy. “Go to lord Mobei Jun’s room, he’s ready and expecting you. You better get going to the palace entrance to wait for your Shizun.”

“Yes, Shang-shishu!” saluted Yang Yixuan. He bowed and sprinted towards Mobei Jun’s chambers.

Good. That was in motion then. Next step, a final checkup with the caterers–

“Master Shang! Master Shang!”

Shang Qinghua got goosebumps. “It doesn’t have to happen. Maybe it’s not it,” he thought, hoping against hope. But deep down, he knew better. It was Chu Hua’s voice calling for him.

He turned, finally allowing the feeling of dread to swallow him.

“Chu Hua, what is it?” he asked, voice unsteady.

“It’s Consort Shen!”

Of course it was, God fuck it. Of course it was. 

“What’s wrong with your master?”

“The imperial stylists are here already, and so are the maids of honor and the seamstresses with Consort’s gown, but he won’t let any of us in.”

“Chu Hua, stop and breathe. This has happened before, remember? Consort Shen is probably lost in thought again and didn’t hear your call.”

“No, no, it’s different this time, master Shang,” whined Chu Hua, speaking at the speed of light. “Consort woke up very early to have his bath, and then the imperial make-up artists arrived to start working, and he let them in, and they started doing Consort’s make-up, but suddenly he started breathing very fast and he dismissed us all without explanation, and it’s been twenty minutes and he won’t answer and I don’t know what to do!”

Fuck. Fuck! It happened. He knew it would happen. He felt it in his bones. Damn Cucumber bro. Why did he have to wait until the very morning of his wedding day to freak out?

It didn’t matter. Now that it had actually happened, Shang Qinghua felt relieved. It could be worse, it always could be worse; he even had a contingency plan in case Cucumber bro lost it in the middle of the pilgrimage. This was salvageable. He jumped into full crisis-solving mode and sprinted towards Cucumber bro’s chambers, followed closely by a distraught Chu Hua.

When he arrived, there was a small crowd of antsy demons and cultivators by the door, murmuring and fretting.

Ming Fan and Ning Yingying jumped on Shang Qinghua the moment they saw him.

“Shang-shishu, Shang-shishu! We don’t know what’s going on! But we don’t dare go in unauthorized,” whined Ning Yingying, still wearing her sleeping robes.

“What should we do? Who should we call?” asked Ming Fan, in a state of panic.

Fuck if I know! Call the Ghostbusters for all I care!

“Did anyone inform the emperor?” inquired Shang Qinghua urgently, holding his breath.

“No, nobody moved away from the door,” answered Ning Yingying. “Should I go fetch A-Luo?”

“No! No, no, no. Everyone here, listen!” Shang Qinghua exclaimed, clapping to get the crowd’s attention. “I will handle this minor situation privately. The emperor is not to be disturbed. Under no circumstances. Have I made myself clear?”

He barked the order with such authority that he got an instant choir of enraptured agreement. Some demons inexplicably blushed and stole coquettish glances at him. Shang Qinghua blinked in disbelief. He thought it was Luo Binghe’s particular kink, but maybe all demons were low-key masochists who enjoyed getting scolded by cultivators.

“Ming Fan, once again, whatever happens, lord Luo can’t hear a word of this. Do you understand? I’m entrusting you with this responsibility. Nobody in this group leaves this hallway until I authorize them. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Shang-shishu! Shishu can trust this disciple!” exclaimed the youth, patting his chest.

Goodness. The last thing Shang Qinghua needed was an unhinged Luo Binghe mad with worry smashing down doors à la Qingge style. 

Without calling for permission, he tried to open the door. It was locked. Shang Qinghua groaned. He grabbed the doorknob and sent a condensed stream of spiritual energy through the metal and into the lock. The mechanism was automatically busted and the door opened with a loud click.

“Nobody enters and nobody calls to us, I will call for you myself when I must,” he warned the disciples. The kids nodded.

Shang Qinghua entered and quickly shut the door behind him before anyone could steal a peak at the interior. He quickly grabbed a nearby chair and blocked the door to make sure nobody would go against his orders and try to sneak in.

He then took a deep breath and turned around.

He gasped in horror at the sight.

Shen Qingqiu was frozen in the middle of the parlor, staring at him with eyes wide as a deer before highlights. Even though he wasn’t sobbing or making any noise, a constant stream of tears flowed from his eyes, leaving a horrible black trail all over his cheeks from the melted ceremonial make-up.

Worst of all, according to Shang Qinghua’s instructions, Chu Hua had already made Shen Qinqiu put on the inner robes of the wedding gown. The black kohl tears were falling dangerously close to the pristine white pearly fabric.

Shang Qinghua yelped, took a cushion from an armchair and threw it to Shen Qingqiu. He caught it, moving mechanically.

“Cry on that!” Shang Qinghua ordered, dismayed. “You’ll stain the collar, you moron! That’s the only visible part of the inner robes!”

Still staring like a stunned animal, Shen Qingqiu silently obeyed. He raised the pillow to his chin and leaned his head a bit so the black tears fell far away from his clothes.

Shang Qinghua sighed and walked to him. He was pale like a ghost, eyes completely red, hair disheveled and gaze vacant. 

It was a pre-wedding freak-out alright. 

“Why don’t you take a seat first?” Shang Qinghua said gently, pushing him into a wide couch. He dragged a chair and sat down right in front of him.

“Do you know who I am?” Shang Qinghua asked, doing his best to soften his voice.

“Shang-shidi.”

Shit. Not the best answer. He tensed up.

“Yup, that’s the official answer, but now that we are alone, who am I, Cucumber bro? Who am I really? Do you remember?”

Shen Qingqiu hesitated.

“Master Airplane?” he said, in a tiny voice.

“That’s more like it,” nodded Shang Qinghua, concealing his relief. That answer dismissed the possibility of a qi deviation. He had arrived just in time. “So, wanna tell your bro from another town what’s got your panties in a knot? Are we maybe experiencing a bit of the ol’ cold feet, uh?”

Shen Qingqiu shook his head. The tears intensified.

“I dreamed about my funeral last night.”

Shang Qinghua was startled. Of all the possible crises for which he had prepared scripted answers in his Cucumber Bro’s Impending Freak-Out emergency booklet, that was certainly not a scenario he had predicted. And he had ventured many.

“That’s rough. Wanna tell me about it?” he asked, patting Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder reassuringly. “You dreamed you died today, or–?”

“No, not current me. Past me. I dreamed about the funeral of my old self.”

Shang Qinghua began to understand. It was gonna be more complex than he had anticipated.

“Since the wedding preparations began, I’ve been… I’ve been thinking a lot about my family. The family I left behind,” continued Shen Qingqiu, lowering his eyes to his tear-containing pillow. “I missed them terribly. I got sick thinking about how they will not be here for my wedding day. I thought I had worked it out, I swear I worked it out. I made my peace with it. I was happy again. I went to bed last night excited for today. And then–”

“You had the worst possible dream ever,” guessed Shang Qinghua, with sincere pity. Shen Qingqiu nodded.

“It was so clear. Their faces as they buried my old body. My little sister was crying so hard. And I woke up crying too and missing them all so much, and then I got thinking… who the fuck am I and what am I doing?”

Shang Qinghua flinched. Shen Qingqiu was getting agitated. 

“I’m deceiving everyone. Everyone thinks I’m some 2.0  version of some other dude. I was lucky enough to find someone who loves me, and not even he knows who the fuck I really am. He fell for this character I made to survive that fucking System, and now I can’t get out of it, and is it fair? Is it fair for Binghe to marry a complete fake? After all I’ve done to him already?”

He got up and started pacing around the room like a caged tiger, still comically holding the tear pillow in position.

“And now the lies keep piling up, and everyone calls me Empress this and that, and I’m about to rule a fucking kingdom? I’m a nobody! I have no one. Not really. I should just get the fuck away from this palace and–”

“Bro–”

“Binghe deserves to find someone who’s honest, I want to take off and–”

“Bro.”

“If only I could off myself or something, but this damn body is so resistant and I don’t have the balls to–”

“Cucumber bro–”

“I’m a fucking piece of shit, I wish I would just–”

“Shen Yuan!”

Shang Qinghua’s exclamation echoed in the room like thunder. Shen Qingqiu stopped his tirade and stared at him, shaken by the unexpected shock of his name.

Shang Qinghua went to him, snatched the pillow away, and grabbed Shen Qingqiu’s hands with a firm grip.

“You are you ,” he affirmed, eyes fixed on his friend’s. “You are you. You are still Shen Yuan, the Binghe fan who ended up in this world and did his best to understand it and be a part of it. You are Shen Qingqiu. Not the scumbag villain; you are the coddling teacher who knows everything under the sun about monsters, and who’s a bit of a poser, gets embarrassed easily and stole the hearts of the entire Cang Qiong Mountain. You are Cucumber bro, the dude who’s a petty jerk but that takes care of me as a brother would.”

Shen Qingqiu’s expression softened a bit. He was listening intently to every word for once.

“And the most important part, you are Binghe’s partner,” Shang Qinghua added, smiling. “His chosen partner. You think he’s stupid, that he’d be deceived by a simple act? He saw you, the good in you, recognized you, and fell for you. And the same happened to you. You said it yourself, didn’t you? We are not characters. We are people. So give the guy some credit. I’m sure one day you’ll be able to tell him the truth, but isn’t it just a technicality?”

“A technicality?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not like he fell for Shen Jiu. He fell for you. What difference does it make where you come from? Shen Yuan, Shen Qingqiu, you can call yourself Bruce Lee or Freddie Mercury for all it matters. It won’t change a thing. You are you, and you’ll always be. Do you understand that?”

Shen Qingqiu nodded slowly. He began to calm down, but the tears still flowed. Shang Qinghua grabbed a piece of cloth from a vanity and began wiping them off. He ended up smearing the black trails into a smudge, but it didn’t matter.

“And if it helps,” added Shang Qinghua, chuckling. “You are more and more you every day. You don’t see it, but you’re changing, bro. More relaxed, more open. You smile a lot now. I see it. Binghe sees it. That’s why he gets more and more clingy the longer you spend together. I dare say he likes current you even more than he did back then, when you were in full poser-peak-lord mode.”

“Sometimes I think he knows already,” declared Shen Qingqiu, with the deep, relieved sigh of a person who has finally wept away the burning ball of lead that pressed his chest. “It’s little things he says, or looks he gives me. I feel he’s just waiting for me to come clean.”

“I bet he does,” agreed Shang Qinghua. “I mean, he mastered the control of dream realms. He’s bound to have seen some stuff. You might even speak in your sleep; I know I do. This morning Mobei Jun asked me who Cucumber Lord was.”

“ Cucumber Lord ?” laughed Shen Qingqiu. “For real? What the hell?”

“I probably slurred your ID in my sleep, I tore you a new one in my dreams more than once,” Shang Qinghua admitted, shrugging. “So. Are you better now?”

Cucumber bro nodded with a smile.

“Ready to tie the knot– again?”

“You bet your ass I am,” Shen Qingqiu said, rubbing his swollen eyes. He then stared at his black-stained fingers. “I might need to have my make-up done again, tho.”

“No shit, you look like one of them Kiss dudes.”

“Shishu, I beg you! We were instructed to stay here until–”

Ming Fan’s scream made both Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu freeze in place. 

“Oh, shit,” muttered Shang Qinghua, petrified.

Sure enough, the chair that blocked the entrance flew into the air, and the double doors slammed open.

Chapter Text

Liu Qingge stomped in, shutting the door in Ming Fan’s face. He locked it with a small spiritual array to prevent the scandalized disciples from following him.

“Hey, I’m done talking with the ice demon, I came to–”

He froze on the spot. He stared at Shen Qingqiu with a blank expression. 

His piercing gaze went from the reddish, swollen eyes to the smudged tear marks, and he burst into a spontaneous frenzy.

"I knew it. I knew it! He doesn’t want to do this!” he roared, trampling his way to Shen Qingqiu through furniture and decorations.

Before anyone had time to breathe a word, Liu Qingge pushed Shang Qinghua away and clasped both of Shen Qingqiu’s hands between his own.

“You don’t have to do this. What I said at Qing Jing Peak stands. You have a choice. Just say the word, and I’ll take you away. We don’t even have to go back to Cang Qiong Mountain. Say the word, and I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

Shang Qinghua could do nothing but stare at them in horror as he witnessed the dramatic scene unfold before his eyes. His cursed luck, to have the unrelenting love rival storm in spurting an eloquent speech just when the bride was getting over a mild case of cold feet! Not even the cheesiest dramas had indulged in such a rampant cliché!

Cucumber bro must have felt the same way, because he hadn’t been able to make a sound yet. He was probably trying to find a believable justification for his evidently fresh weeping fit, but his brain was still rebooting after overcoming the last crisis. 

Liu Qingge interpreted his silence as compliance and sprang into action.

“No need to decide where to go now, just change into your usual robes and let’s get out of here,” he said, pushing Shen Qingqiu towards the wardrobe. “I’ll get your fan. Do you remember where you left it?”

“No, Liu-shidi, I–”

“It doesn’t matter, I’ll get you a new one. You always lose them anyway.”

“Liu Qinnge!” exclaimed Shen Qingqiu with his best angry teacher tone, yanking his hands away. “Will you listen for once? I’m not going anywhere!”

Liu Qingge blinked at him, perplexed.

“You were crying,” he accused, frowning.

“I was. It doesn’t mean I’m having second thoughts.”

“Then what is it?”

Shen Qingqiu hesitated. A quick answer was absolutely necessary. Liu Qingge was too riled up to tolerate a long, thoughtful pause.

“I was crying because I miss my family,” he said at last.

“Your family?” repeated Liu Qingge, taken by surprise.

“Yes. The one I had before I entered Cang Qiong Mountain. I’ve lost them, and I wish they were here with me now. That’s all.”

“Oh.”

Shang Qinghua swallowed. It had been a risky move, telling the truth like that, but it should be okay, at least for a while. The only one who could question the veracity of that answer was Yue Qingyuan, and Liu Qingge’s chronic emotional constipation would prevent him from going around having heart-to-hearts about heavy topics with other human beings.

Liu Qingge backed down and took a seat on one of the chairs that had survived his entrance. He looked calm enough, if a bit disappointed.

“I’m sorry for that,” was all he could muster to say. He was uncomfortable. He had never had a talent for comforting others.

“It’s fine. I’ve been more emotional than usual lately. I got a bit carried away on my own. Shang-shidi was kind enough to help me regain composure.”

“And I’m glad everyone’s more relaxed now,” Shang Qinghua chimed in, glaring at Liu Qingge. “But I’m afraid we’re on the verge of being behind schedule. Shen-shixiong, are you ready to continue the preparations?”

“I am. My apologies, Shang-shidi.”

“Don’t worry about it. Everything will be fine. Liu-shidi, would you kindly unlock the door?”

Liu Qingge made a quick motion with his fingers and the spiritual array vanished. 

The second it did, the doors opened and Ming Fan, Ning Yingying, Chu Hua and Yang Yixuan fell on the floor one on top of the other.

“Don’t tell me you all had your ears against the door!” exclaimed Shang Qinghua in disbelief, as the youths struggled to stand up, faces crimson red.

“What kind of decorum is this?” scolded Shen Qingqiu, turning away instantly to hide his smudged face. “You might be in the demon realm now, but you are still dignified disciples of Cang Qiong Mountain! Even you, Chu Hua! Is this how an imperial lady-in-waiting is supposed to behave?”

The four youngsters melted into a poodle of apologies, but Liu Qingge interrupted them.

“Save it, you’re in enough trouble as it is. Yang Yixuan, we have work to do. Let’s go.”

“Yes, Shizun!”

The two of them spirited away, to everyone’s relief. Shang Qinghua clapped his hands loudly and began delivering orders as if his life depended on it.

“Okay, the rest of you, enough chattering! Ming Fan, Ning Yingying, go get ready and come back at once. I want you here at your Shizun’s beck and call the moment you are dressed. Chu Hua, go get cold compresses, Consort Shen’s eyes are a bit irritated. He had an allergic reaction to the kohl paint. Where are the imperial cosmeticians?”

“We are here, master Shang.”

“You heard what I said. Consort Shen’s skin is very sensitive, so use lighter layers of paint around the eyes. Are the imperial stylists here?”

The elderly couple walked forward and bowed lightly.

“We were here at the break of dawn as instructed, master Shang.”

“You have my gratitude, and my deepest apologies for the delay. Can you work on Consort Shen’s hair while he gets his make-up done?”

“Of course. Consort Shen’s hair is a delight to work with. We’ll have it ready in no time.”

“Excellent. The imperial hairpiece is right there in that cushioned drawer. Seamstresses!”

“Here, master Shang.”

“Bring forth the wedding gown and spread it on the bed. You are to dress Consort Shen as soon as he’s ready.”

The entire team of seamstresses left in a haste, robes fluttering like a cloud of butterflies. They returned shortly after, carrying a bridal gown that looked considerably smaller than the one Shen Qingqiu had tried on during his last outfit test.

“Is that the same dress?” he asked, staring at it in confusion. “It looks so much more… lighter.”

“It is,” admitted Shang Qinghua, grinning. “I discarded a good couple of layers and made some adjustments here and there. It should be more to Consort Shen’s tastes now. Consider it my way of reciprocating shixiong’s kindness.”

“I can’t believe my husband let you get away with this,” Shen Qingqiu said, glowing with pleasure at the sight of his simplified gown. He had dreaded walking around dragging the enormous fabric beast for weeks.

“Eh, technically, he didn’t,” confessed Shang Qinghua with an apologetic shrug. “Let’s say… It was an accident. Mishaps like this happen all the time in event planning, you know? For all it matters, I doubt he’ll notice. I dare say his attention will be set elsewhere.”

The seamstresses giggled, and Shen Qingqiu blushed like a teenage boy. Even the elderly hair stylists chuckled and whispered, “Ah, to be young.”

“Shang-shishu, we’re back!”

Ming Fan and Ning Yingying returned in record time, impeccably dressed and eager to be by their Shizun’s side.

Little Chu Hua walked in behind them, carrying the cold compresses.

“Consort Shen, should I apply these now?”

“My eyes are better, thank you, Chu Hua. Just help me wipe my face so the cosmeticians can reapply the foundation. I do not dare to move my head while the esteemed lord and madam are working.”

“Certainly, your ladyship. Master Shang, is there anything else you need me to do?”

“Nothing for now, just tend to your master and get ready yourself. I will meet you at the entrance when it’s time to start the pilgrimage. I have other matters to tend to. Send a servant for me if you need me.”

Having finally set things straight in the bridal department, Shang Qinghua bowed to them all and rushed away.

“He’s so imposing and dreamy,” one of the seamstresses dared to say.

“You can say that again! It’s a pity lord Mobei Jun finally snatched him,” agreed one of the make-up artists.

“If I weren’t an old bonded lady, I’d try my luck for a chance as well,” added the elderly demoness.

“I’d fight you for it, my dear,” said her lord partner.

“Are they talking about our Shang-shishu?” asked Ming Fan, baffled.

“Indeed they are,” chuckled Shen Qingqiu, doing his best to keep his facial muscles still. “I’ll explain later.”

Shang Qinghua sneezed as he galloped down the hallway. He was glad he had managed to restore order and prevent the scandal of a runaway imperial bride, but he was officially behind schedule now. 

He had yet to check in with the caterers, the stable masters and the temple priests, make sure that the decorations were in place, go greet the Cang Qiong Mountain party that would soon arrive, verify the status of the guests rooms, then get ready himself and–

He yelped as he was lifted into the air like a sprinting dog that someone managed to catch just before it ran into traffic.

“My king!” he gasped, relieved. For a cold second, he thought he was being kidnapped by infiltrated rebel demons. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“I called you three times, but you didn’t hear me,” said the demon, shaking his head. “Didn’t I tell you to be calm?”

“I wish I could,” sighed Shang Qinghua. “I had to solve a hot mess and lost track of time. I’m so behind schedule I could die.”

Mobei Jun smiled. He liked it very much when the little man got so worked up that he’d forget to use formal speech entirely, even if he sometimes used words the demon didn’t entirely understand.

“Don’t die. You’ll miss the wedding,” he teased.

“At this point, I almost want to,” confessed Shang Qinghua. He suddenly noticed that Mobei Jun was walking, and in the opposite direction of where he was meant to go. 

“My king, I have to go to the palace kitchen,” he said, alarmed. “Please put me down.”

“No.”

“My king, I’m not kidding, I’m really behind schedule.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am!”

“The caterers are ready and working on the cold dishes. The hot dishes are already served and safe in storage, to be heated up once the celebrations begin,” the demon said.

Shang Qinghua was speechless.

“What?”

“The stables are prepared, each stall has an assigned stable boy waiting to tend to the carriage beasts. The priests have made the final review run around the Temple, everything is settled and the temple guardians are already in position. The guest rooms are done; one of the nobles that had declined to attend changed his schedule at the last moment, so I had the maids prepare one additional room for him and his family.”

“You– you did what–”

“Your sect leader and the other peak lords arrived early, so your Liu martial brother is outside greeting them with Yang Yixuan. The boy will show them to their rooms and guide them to their seats once it’s time for the ceremony.”

While he spoke, he made his way to their chambers and kicked the doors open. Once inside, he finally put Shang Qinghua down.

“All that’s left is for you to get ready, and that gives us about forty minutes to have breakfast,” he concluded, as he pointed to a table already served in the parlor. “You can’t go without eating all day. You’ll faint.”

Shang Qinghua stared at the breakfast table, entirely motionless.

“How did you know my schedule?”

“I took it from your planner. I made a copy for myself while you slept last night,” said the demon. “I hope I haven’t upset you.”

Shang Qinghua couldn’t take it anymore. He jumped to Mobei Jun and wrapped his arms around his waist with all his strength, burying his face in his robes.

Mobei Jun was startled; he had expected Shang Qinghua to scold him for meddling with his business.

“Are you alright?” he asked, hesitating.

“I’m more than alright,” whined Shang Qinghua, still pressing his face against him. “I can’t believe you’d do this for me.”

“I’m sorry. I know you have your own way of doing things, but…”

“Nobody has ever done something like that for me before,” explained Shang Qinghua, his voice breaking a bit. “Thank you, A-Xue.”

Mobei Jun let out a sigh of relief. He hadn’t messed up. Maybe he was getting the hang of things at last. He was working hard to make up for his past misguided courting efforts. He ached to show his mate that he was a partner worthy of his trust.

He patted the top of Shang Qinghua’s head with a contented smile.

“It’s nothing.”

Shang Qinghua lifted his head, stared at the demon towering over him, and frowned.

“I wish I were taller, so I could kiss you without asking you to nearly break your spine bending over,” he complained, pouting.

Mobei Jun grinned.

“That’s a useless wish, when I can do this,” he said, lifting Shang Qinghua to his eye level. “See? Solved. Do as you please now.”

Shang Qinghua threw his arms around Mobei Jun’s neck and, indeed, did as he pleased for such a long time that most of the breakfast dishes got cold.

Once they sat down, Mobei Jun called for a fresh pot of tea and filled his partner’s plate with all sorts of pastries.

“I don’t have Consort Shen’s high level of cultivation, you know,” Shang Qinghua warned, staring at the growing pile of food before him. “If you feed me this much, my body will explode.”

“It’ll explode if you keep neglecting your health. Eat up,” said Mobei Jun, adding one last cream bun to the top. 

“How did things with Liu Qingge go?” asked Shang Qinghua, mouth full.

“Adequate. I reviewed his warriors, he reviewed mine. Our combined numbers are enough. They were all disguised properly. I introduced him to my second in command, as she’ll be the one leading the operation while I take my place in the ceremony.”

“Oh, that pretty demoness? The tall, muscular one? I bet Qingge was all awkward around her.”

“He seemed flustered if that’s what you mean,” agreed Mobei Jun. “She noticed and made the most of it. She’s cunning. She’ll handle him well enough.”

“I’m so glad that’s settled,” sighed Shang Qinghua, resting his head on the back of the chair. “I was so worried you’d end up at each other’s throats.”

“I thought about it once or twice,” admitted the demon, frowning. “He doesn’t speak much, but when he does, he tends to be irritating.”

That was such an accurate depiction of Liu Qingge that Shang Qinghua couldn’t help but laugh.

“He barged into the bridal chambers unannounced, you know,” he said, shaking his head with a smirk. “I could have killed him right then and there.”

“That’s unacceptable,” growled Mobei Jun. “If Binghe gets wind of it he’ll be done for.”

“Promise you won’t say a word until the wedding’s over,” begged Shang Qinghua. “That’s a mess I’d rather not clean. How is he, by the way? The emperor, I mean.”

Mobei Jun sipped some tea as he thought of a proper adjective to describe his friend’s state of mind.

“Volatile,” he said at last. 

“That says it all.”

“Hardly. Being apart from Consort Shen is no good for him.”

“Is he excited?”

“He is, but I don’t think he really cares about the wedding itself anymore. He’s yearning to be reunited with Consort.”

Shang Qinghua was lost in thought for a while.

“I think it’s the same for Qingqiu. They can’t be separated for long without losing their minds a little.”

“I understand it,” said Mobei Jun slowly. “I can’t fathom being apart from you for long.”

Shang Qinghua choked on his tea.

“My king, you’ll be the end of me,” he said, coughing. “How can you say such things so easily? You barely said three words in a row before.”

Mobei Jun tilted his head slightly.

“Does it bother you?”

“No, quite the opposite, but it’ll be a while until I get used to it.”

“Time is not a problem. We have the rest of our lives to get comfortable with each other.”

“There you go again! My heart! Have mercy on my heart!”

“That’s a request I can’t grant.”

They looked at each other adoringly for a long time, saying nothing. Mobei Jun spoke first.

“I’m so impatient to take you home.”

“We’re almost free,” said Shang Qinghua, standing up with a timid smile. “We should get on with it. To begin with, it’s time to get changed. The pilgrimage will start in an hour.”

The two of them helped each other put on their complex ceremonial gowns and reluctantly left their chambers.

“Do you have the jade pendant?” remembered Shang Qinghua, doing his best not to step on his robes. A beast of work like himself was not used to such fancy attire. He felt a tad awkward and out of place, as if he had attended an elderly relative’s birthday party wearing cosplay.

“I do. I’ll see you soon,” said the demon, carefully bending down to kiss him. He hated how cautious he had to be for the sake of his dignified image.

“I can’t move in this thing,” he grumbled, crossing his arms to keep the long sleeves from tangling with his many belts and ornaments.

“Well, for all it’s worth, I think you look impossibly handsome,” said Shang Qinghua timidly. 

Before the flustered demon managed to come up with a proper reply, Shang Qinghua waved goodbye to him and fled downstairs.

As he made his way to the palace entrance, he looked out the many windows in awe.

An enormous crowd was gathered right outside the palace gates. Demons and humans alike had attended the event, wearing their best attires; they were cheering for the pilgrimage to start.

The day selected for the ceremony was not chosen at random. Every month, on that very day, the three moons of the demon realm aligned, exposing three minor stars that were usually shadowed by the dark glow of the main sun. The combination of the four suns and the three moons created a dazzling atmospheric effect, dying the usual crimson sky of the demon realm with a variety of ever-changing colors very similar to the Northern Lights.

As a result, the sky was clearer and the light abundant; the ambiance itself was festive, and it had a positive influence on the attendants. The demons were overjoyed, and the humans were in awe of such a different, spectacular ethereal sight.

The many decorations glistened beautifully, and the flowers that covered every inch of the pilgrimage sideways filled the air with sweet perfume and a constant flow of flying petals.

Shang Qinghua congratulated himself. Everything looked lovely. His hard work had paid out.

Once he reached the main hall, he spotted Cucumber bro and his entire cohort ready and waiting for the gates to open.

The endless veil was carefully lifted by the maids of honor, led by Chu Hua, Ming Fan and Ning Yingying. While Chu Hua was smiling, serene and content, the other two looked on the verge of tears out of sheer emotion.

Cucumber bro stood entirely still, his slender figure looking truly regal in his magnificent red wedding gown. His hands, richly ornate with all kinds of rings, were elegantly crossed over his waist.  

Shang Qinghua did a quick revision of the entourage, gave an instruction here and there, and finally approached his bro.

“Greetings, Consort Shen. The big moment is finally here. I’m happy for you. You look stunning,” he said, a bit surprised at his heartfelt honesty. He actually meant every word.

Shen Qingqiu didn’t say a word nor move a muscle. Shang Qinghua smiled, guessing he was a little nervous.

“You can loosen up a bit, you know,” he whispered, close to Shen Qingqiu’s ear. “Nobody’s gonna notice if you–”

He interrupted himself. Now that he was closer, he detected the subtle shivering under the veil.

He frowned. He cleared his throat, and said in a loud voice, to justify the ceremonial blunder he was about to commit:

“What is it, Consort Shen? Something in your eye? Yes, I will check that for you; excuse me for a moment.”

He carefully raised his hands and slightly lifted the end of the veil that covered Shen Qingqiu’s head.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

Shen Qingqiu was terrified.

“Bro, what the hell is wrong with you now?” rapidly whispered Shang Qinghua. “Don’t tell me you’ve got stage fright!”

“Do I seem like a person who likes being the center of attention?” seethed Shen Qingqiu through his teeth. “Did you see how many people are out there? I’m crapping my dress here!”

“Please don’t, I’ve dealt with enough shit already, I’m not wiping that for you,” Shang Qinghua said, clenching his teeth. “Come on, bro, you’ll do fine. Just think everyone in the audience is naked or something.”

“Do you get your advice from bad sitcoms? How is that gonna work?”

“Look, you’re under a veil; you won’t see much anyway–”

“Exactly! What if I trip? And everyone laughs? What an Empress they’ll get! Seriously, man, I don’t think I can do this. I’m really scared.”

He looked so frightened Shang Qinghua couldn’t help but feel a pang of empathy. If it were him in his place, he’d probably be shitting his own ceremonial robes too. They were both shut-in geeks, after all. Massive public events like that were like a tailored nightmare.

“Listen, I’ll… uhm… do you want me to hold your hand? I’ll help you down the stairs at least.”

Shen Qingqiu instantly clasped Shang Qinghua’s hand.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

The loud sound of a gong echoed from outside. Someone made an enthusiastic proclamation, and the orchestra started playing an ancient song, a classic anthem traditional of the demon realm.

“It’s time,” whispered Shang Qinghua, pressing the trembling hand between his fingers.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” muttered Shen Qingqiu, his heart racing as the enormous gates began to open.

“Hey. Just stopping by to say good luck before I go oversee our infiltrates out there. See you at the temple.”

Everyone turned their heads, flabbergasted. Liu Qingge was casually walking towards the party as if nothing had happened, dressed in his best soldier robes, completely oblivious to the rumble of the gates opening before him.

“Liu-shidi, get the hell away from here!” seethed Shang Qinghua, nervously staring at the entrance. “You can’t be here!”

“Shidi!”

Shen Qingqiu lifted his veil and stretched out his free hand towards Liu Qingge.

The second he saw that image, Liu Qingge darted to him and held the pleading fingers.

“What is it? Do you want to bail? You can if you want, I’ll take you away–”

“Shidi– Qingge,” interrupted Shen Qingqiu, with watery eyes. “Walk with me.”

“Uh?!” 

“Please,” begged Shen Qinqiu. 

“I- I don’t understand,” stuttered Liu Qingge.

Shang Qinghua threw caution and protocol out the window. Tradition, public opinion, image, it could all go to hell. Cucumber bro was more important.

“He’s scared of falling or making a mistake in front of all those people,” he explained to the baffled warlord before them. “I will walk with him. He wants you to be by his side too.”

Liu Qingge stared at him and then at Shen Qingqiu with a complicated expression. After a few moments of very intense internal struggles, he gave up. He never stood a chance anyway, not against that man. Whatever he asked of him, he would grant; even if it was the ultimate request he had stubbornly resisted until the very last moment.

“Fine. I can’t win against you. You have my blessing,” he declared with a sigh, offering his arm to Shen Qingqiu. “Come on now. Let’s take you to your groom.”

Shen Qingqiu beamed him the warmest smile, put down his veil, and wrapped his hand around Liu Qingge’s arm.

“Bridal cohort, you are to walk slowly and follow Consort Shen’s pace at all times. Be careful not to step on your robes,” indicated Shang Qinghua. “Once the gates are entirely open, we move. Are we clear?”

“Yes, master Shang!”

The merry music went in crescendo as the gates opened and then slowly quieted down until only the melancholy voice of a single guqin gave birth to a sweet, enticing tune. It was the melody that announced the presence of the Empress.

The crowds went silent as the palace gates, now fully opened, revealed the bridal cohort.

“Ready to go?” asked Shang Qinghua, taking a deep breath.

Before answering, Shen Qingqiu took one last look around him.

Shang Qinghua firmly held his left hand. Liu Qingge held his arm up, giving him support, as he clumsily patted his hand to comfort him. Behind him, Chu Hua, Ming Fan, and Ning Yingying held his veil. The three of them smiled widely at him.

“I am ready,” Shen Qingqiu answered, his voice steady again.

He carefully took the first step forth, and so the bridal pilgrimage began.

Chapter Text

Encouraged by the reassuring support of his martial brothers and disciples, Shen Qingqiu regained control of himself and went into full poser overdrive. He was convinced all the past years he had invested polishing his aloof badass act had come to flourish in that one spectacular moment, under the scrutiny of thousands.

He sauntered at ease, making each and every one of his steps decidedly steady. Firmly clutching Shang Qinghua’s hand and Liu Qingge’s arm, Consort Shen descended the stairs of the imperial palace with captivating poise and elegance. He held his head high and proud; framed by the ethereal drift of the aerial wedding gown, Shen Qingqiu was truly a sight to behold.

All that self-confidence and grandeur went to hell the moment his feet touched the ground.

The crowd had witnessed the descent in silent reverence; the impact of the first public appearance of the new Empress had overcome the people. However, now that the divine apparition was finally standing between them mortals, moments away from starting the pilgrimage, a roaring ovation resounded throughout the demon realm.

Shen Qingqiu was painfully startled by the sudden acclamation; all his badassery had been burned by the act of going down the stairs. As the gate guards opened the golden fences that connected the imperial palace with the outside world, he began shivering again.

Shang Qinghua and Liu Qingge released Shen Qingqiu’s hands; now that he was safe on steady ground, tradition dictated he should walk the nuptial path on his own. However, Shen Qingqiu clutched to them with terrified tenacity.

“Shi– shixiong, we are not supposed to accompany you all the way,” stuttered Shang Qinghua, looking ahead of them nervously. 

“Don’t you dare leave me alone; look at that crowd,” furiously whispered Cucumber bro, swallowing hard. “They’ll eat me alive!”

“I don’t mind walking you to the temple,” said Liu Qingge nonchalantly. Feeling Shen Qingqiu’s grasp on his arm tighten, he began mechanically patting his hand again.

“Would you?” beamed Shen Qingiu, relief visible even under the red barrier of the veil. Liu Qingge nodded with enthusiasm. “And you too, Shang-shidi. I can’t do this without you. I need both of you.”

After a fleeting moment of hesitation, Shang Qinghua gave in. He was not thrilled about sharing the spotlight like that, but it didn’t matter. They had gotten that far and overcome so much, one last public stroll wouldn’t make much of a difference, right? He’d take it as a way to seal his renewed bond of brohood with that impossible Peerless Cucumber.

“Very well,” Shang Qinghua said, shaking his head with a smile. “You big, whiny baby. Come on. Let us go to the first shrine.”

Imperial Cucumber bro squeezed his hand with gratitude.

“How many of those shrines is he supposed to visit?” asked Liu Qingge, who was less than thrilled about the idea of publicly paying respects to a bunch of demon corpses, no matter how distinguished they had been back in the day.

“Only seven,” answered Shang Qinghua. “There weren’t many formally crowned emperors in the demon realm. Legal marriage is not the norm around here.”

“It’s not surprising, given how much of a hassle it is,” sighed Shen Qingqiu, discreetly blowing through his veil to shoo away a small, silvery butterfly that suddenly landed on the translucent crimson fabric. 

“ Seven?! At this pace, we’ll die and rot in this parade,” exclaimed Liu Qingge. “Come on, Qingqiu. Speed up a little.”

The three of them picked up the pace and marched forward with determination. Shen Qingqiu gathered enough courage to gently nod his head here and there to greet the animated attendees.

A marching orchestra followed them, waltzing right behind the veil bearers; they musicalized the pilgrimage with typical tunes of the realm. 

They reached the first shrine soon enough. It was extremely old and withered, as the tomb was erected to honor the first demonic emperor and his esteemed wife many, many  centuries ago.

Shen Qingqiu lowered his head, indicating he was ready to kneel before the shrine.

Shang Qinghua made a quick gesture to Chu Hua, who delicately put her end of the veil down and rushed forward to place a red cushion at the feet of the Empress.

As instructed by the temple priests, Shen Qingqiu kneeled and bowed three times with the tip of his fingers crossed between his eyebrows, right where royal demons had their marks.

The crowd imitated the Empress and bowed in respectful silence. Shang Qinghua paid his respects as well and glared a look of threat so menacing to Liu Gingge that the warlord rolled his eyes and curtseyed lightly. It was the most he could bring himself to do. Only his sheer devotion to Shen Qingqiu could drive him to actually venerate some stinky demon bones.

After a few minutes of silent contemplation, the Empress stood up, immediately sticking back to his escorts. The cheerful music restarted, and the bridal pilgrimage continued.

By the time they finished visiting the remaining six shrines, the suns were beginning to fade away into the evening sky.

“Are those stars?” asked Shen Qingqiu, staring at the firmament in wonder. “I can’t believe it.”

“What do you mean?” asked Liu Qingge, looking up. “They look like regular stars to me. What’s special about them?”

“The night sky is pitch-black in the demon realm, because of the miasma that stems from the overflow of demonic energy,” explained Shang Qinghua. “Today is a special day climate-wise. We have even planned a firework show.”

“I like fireworks,” muttered Liu Qingge. “Where’s the temple? Are we there yet? I feel like we've been walking for days.”

“It’s right around that corner. We’re almost there. Have a little more patience, shidi,” gently said Shen Qingqiu.

Shang Qinghua’s lips trembled. The mighty God of War turned into a spoiled brat around his shixiong.

Just as Shen Qingqiu said, the colossal demonic High Temple soon rose in all its might before them. The infamous Ascension of a Thousand Steps waited for the Empress, richly decorated and heavily guarded.

“Look at all those steps,” whined Shen Qingqiu under his breath, eyes wide open. “I’ll throw up before I reach the top.”

“Nonsense, nonsense. It will be over in the blink of an eye,” said Shang Qinghua, trying to sound supportive despite being equally aghast himself. “Think of the prize waiting at the top.”

Liu Qingge clicked his tongue with poorly concealed disdain.

The three of them moved on towards the stairs, triggering the overjoyed cheers of the crowds.

“What is that?” suddenly asked Shen Qingqiu, looking up.

A cloud of green and orange paper talismans filled the air, paving the last stretch of the road. They had hand-written inscriptions, scribbled in symbols Shen Qingqiu didn’t recognize. Upon closer look, he realized that the people themselves were throwing the talismans in his direction.

“What are these?” Shen Qingiu asked, perplexed. “Why are they throwing them?”

Shang Qinghua hesitated, reluctant to tell. He had entirely forgotten to prepare Cucumber bro psychologically for that last detail of the pilgrimage.

“Such nonsense,” grumbled Liu Qingge, angrily slapping a talisman away from his face. “What are they throwing fertility charms for?”

Shang Qinghua winced when Shen Qingqiu’s grasp nearly broke his fingers. Damn Qingge and his absolutely random, always ill-timed knowledge about demon culture! He should have put a muzzle on the guy before taking him out for a walk!

“It’s just a tradition; pay it no mind, bro,” he whispered, humorously. “Nobody’s actually expecting you to pop an heir or something.”

Shen Qingqiu didn’t answer. He didn’t seem to find the joke funny.

“I will not think about this now,” he muttered, more to himself than to his companions. “Let’s get moving. I want to go to Binghe now.”

Liu Qingge nodded with a sad sigh. He looked up at the stairs with a complicated expression, as if the golden steps led to a dark pit where one’s dreams and hopes went to die.

“Are you ready?” he asked, gently tightening the protective grip of his arm around Shen Qingqiu’s hand.

“This is it,” added Shang Qinghua. “Shall we?”

Shen Qingqiu didn’t answer. He simply smiled and took the first step.

The temple was built all along a steep hill. The access to the audience seats placed on each side of the stairs was categorized and restricted according to rank and hierarchy, and there were fewer and fewer open seats the higher and closer to the temple entrance they got. 

As Shen Qingqiu advanced, the general populace was left behind in favor of high-class citizens, then nobility and politicians, then high-ranked representatives of the demon and human realms. Finally, once he reached the last step, only the emperor’s most trusted acolytes and Cang Qiong Mountain’s peak lords and disciples were in attendance.

Once they reached the top after the excruciating ascent, the members of the bridal party took a few moments to catch their breath. Shang Qinghua felt that his lungs were about to burst inside his chest. He swore to spend his yet-to-be-requested vacation time getting in shape.

“Are you okay, bro?” he asked under his breath, panting for air. 

“I am now,” answered Shen Qingqiu, in a daze. He was smiling tenderly.

Shang Qinghua turned his head forth and saw the reason.

Luo Binghe strode hastily towards them, looking truly regal in his deep-red and gold wedding robes. He was positively glowing, eyes sparkling with delight.

Shen Qingqiu finally let go of Shang Qinghua’s hand and Liu Qingge’s arm. He took a few steps away and bowed deeply to them.

“I will always be in your debt,” he said, voice full of emotion. “I am forever grateful to have you as my martial brothers, and my dearest friends. From the bottom of my heart, Shang-shidi, Liu-shidi, thank you.”

Shang Qinghua smiled widely and bowed back in recognition. He was by then pretty used to Cucumber bro 2.0 and his surprise emotional attacks, but Liu Qingge wasn’t, and took the full impact of the words right into the heart. He paled, then blushed, and then changed colors a few more times before crossing his arms and nodding once, with an awkward humph as the only answer. Before Shen Qingqiu could come up with more mortifying words of praise, Liu Qingge rushed away to find refuge within the Cang Qiong Mountain party.

"I think you've just melted his brain," said Shang Qinghua, holding back a laugh.

"He'll survive."

Shen Qingqiu beamed at his bro one last time and then turned around, extending his arms to catch the massive man who was now running to him with all his might like a puppy.

“Shizun!”

“Oh, Binghe.”

Luo Binghe threw himself into Shen Qingqiu’s embrace as if there were nobody watching, to the astonishment of the demon temple priests and imperial guards around them. The new emperor certainly wasn’t one to restrain himself for the sake of protocol.

“I’ve missed you so much, so very much,” he whined, burying his entire face in the curve of Shen Qingqiu’s neck. “Shizun looks so beautiful. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful before in my life. It’s been so long and I’ve missed you so much. So much.”

“I missed you too,” said Shen Qingqiu, squeezing Luo Binghe’s waist with both arms. “Now, now. Let me see you.”

Luo Binghe automatically dried his tears and took a few steps back, eager to show off. He looked hauntingly handsome, and Shen Qingqiu acutely felt the lack of a fan behind which to hide. The veil would have to do, even though he feared it might not be enough to conceal just how thirsty he was for his husband.

Luo Binghe felt the convoluted reaction of Shen Qingqiu’s spiritual flow and smiled, pleased.

“Does Shizun find me to his liking?” he teased, expecting Shen Qingqiu’s scolding words, or a severe reminder of time and place.

However, he was in for a surprise. Shen Qingqiu was entirely unleashed. After surviving the rush of stress and anxiety that had peaked that very morning, and leaving behind the dreaded trial of the public pilgrimage, he was entirely at ease; away from the crowds, surrounded only by people he knew and trusted, Shen Qingqiu could only feel relief and an overwhelming sense of devotion for his partner.

He took Luo Binghe’s face between both hands and pulled him down so he could comfortably whisper in his ear.

“You’re entirely to my liking and more . I’ll show you just how much on our wedding night. Does that answer your question, lord Luo?”

Luo Binghe got goosebumps, and would have skipped the ceremony entirely to drag Shen Qingqiu to the imperial chambers had there not been an audience and two nations waiting for them. He took a deep breath to get his feelings under command and gave his partner, that unpredictable, exceptional man, the most adoring gaze.

“Shall we go get married, Consort Shen?” he said, offering his arm to his bride.

“We shall, lord Luo,” was the prompt answer.

To the enormous relief of the cringing attendees around them, the imperial couple concluded their spontaneous flirting session and went into the temple.

The demonic temple was an astonishing masterpiece of architecture, entirely covered in gold and richly illuminated by hundreds of sparkling torches. The walls were decorated with colorful jewels of all sizes and shapes that projected multicolored sparkles into the ceiling. 

In the middle of the main chamber, there was a wooden altar beautifully crafted and bursting with exotic flowers. It was before this landmark that the people who represented the parental figures of the bride and groom awaited.

Yue Qingyuan and Qi Qingqi were sitting on the right side of the altar. They made a truly imposing couple; Shang Qinghua had spared no expense nor effort on their ceremonial gowns. The sect leader, clad in pure black and cobalt blue, looked particularly appealing; he was so out of himself with sheer joy that he seemed to shine with some kind of divine glow. One could only hope his nearly tangible satisfaction wouldn’t end up blinding the guests.

Mobei Jun was sitting on the opposite side of the altar, respectfully holding the jade pendant between his hands. The heirloom had been carefully polished and was displayed on a purple velvet cushion.

The bride and groom walked down the long aisle that led to the main chamber where the attendees awaited, followed by the veil bearers. Shang Qinghua had abandoned the group and now lurked discreetly from the sides, fully back in business mode. He was overseeing the progress of the ceremony with a pocket version of his planner in hand. 

Once the imperial couple arrived, they stood one in front of the other, and Luo Binghe pulled Shen Qingqiu’s veil up.

He looked at him for a few moments, mesmerized. Shen Qingqiu chuckled.

“Does Binghe find me to his liking?” he said softly.

Luo Binghe couldn’t answer. Used as he was to shed fake tears on command, he discovered it was a truly difficult feat to hold the authentic ones back. 

He sighed and nodded, overwhelmed by emotion.

“The bride and groom stand before us, and thus the wedding ceremony begins,” gently announced the old demon High Priest. “Everyone, kindly take your positions.”

The Cang Qiong mountain peak lords, head disciples and junior cultivators took their seats. So did Sha Hualing, richly enveloped in red satin, Mobei Jun’s second in command, and Luo Binghe’s trusted court demons.

Supervising the ceremony from the sidelines, Shang Qinghua sighed, relieved that things were going so well. Everything was on track. He knew he had to be constantly alert to fix any potential mishap that might come to happen, but deep inside, he wished he could allow himself to relax a bit and actually witness the ceremony from a closer location. He was aware that his role in the wedding was that of a planner and manager, but still; it was, after all, the wedding of his best friend. It would be nice if he could simply attend as any other guest.

That gloomy train of thought was abruptly interrupted when both the bride and groom turned around, looking in his direction, as did the High Priest and the entirety of the attendees, from temple guards to guests.

His heart jumped so hard it nearly crushed his chest. Shen Qingqiu gestured for him to come closer.

Shang Qinghua yelped and rushed to him, cursing himself for lowering his guard, even if it was for a moment. What had happened? What had he missed? What was wrong? Fuck! Fuck. Fuuuuck. What was wrong?!

Feeling the eyes of the entire temple on him, he approached the bride, planner and quill on hand. 

To his surprise, Shen Qingqiu said nothing. He only smiled and waved his hand, calling for Chu Hua. The little demoness promptly approached them and gently took the planner and pen from Shang Qinghua’s hands.

“You need to take position, shidi,” Cucumber bro said, voice mellow and a playful glint in his eyes.

“But– but I was–,”

“If you please… Consort Shang,” said Luo Binghe. To Shang Qinghua’s utter shock, the emperor smiled at him. And it was not one of the tense, polite fake smiles he had forced in the past every time he talked with Shang Qinghua. It was genuine.

Luo Binghe made an inviting gesture with his right hand, pointing at a particular spot.

“Move your ass and go take your rightful place, Master Airplane,” whispered Shen Qingqiu, leaning down at him. “Show everyone here who you are and where you belong. And do it quickly, I’d like to get married now, please.”

Shang Qinghua hesitated and turned his head.

Mobei Jun smiled warmly at him from his seat of honor, dashing in his fancy robes. He extended his left arm, inviting Shang Qinghua to sit beside him. An excited murmur rumbled from the audience.

“Ah, to hell with it,” thought Shang Qinghua, unable to hold back a giddy grin as he proudly strutted towards his distinguished demon fiance. “Watch me and burn with jealousy, ladies and gentlemen. Consort Shang is here to stay.”

Chapter Text

The cheerful thought popped into Shang Qinghua’s brain at least twice every fifteen minutes: I’m so glad I decided to stay.

There he was, a privileged witness at his best friend’s wedding, which he had successfully planned, all while holding hands with the person he loved. Not bad. Not bad at all, for an underdog with chronic bad luck.

The bride and groom bowed to the heavens and earth, manifesting their respect for their ancestors and reverence for the gods.

They bowed to their parental figures in gratitude for their continued dedication, invaluable care, and benevolent influence throughout their lives.

They finally bowed to each other, reinforcing their vows of loyalty and companionship for life.

Once they interlinked their arms and sipped the ceremonial wine, the nuptial ritual was complete, and the High Priest cheerfully crowned them Emperor and Empress of the Demon Realm.

The moment the coronation concluded, a single golden flare was fired from the entrance of the temple. It was a signal to let the people know that the wedding ceremony was a success. The rising echoes of cheers and ovations from down below reached the temple, as a spectacular show of fireworks burst in a myriad of colors and shapes.

After the newlyweds received the blessings and congratulations of the attendees, they joined hands and led a procession that would descend the mountain and follow the same path of the bridal pilgrimage back to the palace.

Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu walked ahead, followed by the veil bearers. The parental figures came next, and the elite attendees from the demon realm and Cang Qiong Mountain closed the party. 

Everyone was in high spirits; both demons and cultivators were in such an excellent mood that even chatted with each other amicably. The unusual cortege advanced in harmony as the spectacle of fireworks lit the night sky. Demons and humans alike acclaimed until their throats hurt, mesmerized by the awe-striking image of the royal couple.

Shang Qinghua’s eyes sparkled as he admired the fireworks, his mouth half-open in a fascinated smile. He had arranged the display himself, but he hadn’t expected it to be so splendid.

“My king, look! Look!” he said, pulling Mobei Jun’s hand. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

The demon’s eyes were fixed on Shang Qinghua’s face, taking in the glow of his sunny expression. He had never seen him so happy before. It was giving Mobei Jun a bad case of the butterflies. 

“So beautiful,” he said, with a smile. He put his arm around his partner’s waist and gently pulled him closer. Not long ago, the intimate gesture would have scared Shang Qinghua out of his mind. Now he lovingly pressed his cheek against the demon’s chest, fully enjoying the merry scene before them.

Once the royal party entered the grounds of the imperial residence and the gates closed, the townsfolk went back to the main streets of the demon capital. That night was the first of three nights of popular festivities that had been arranged to celebrate the imperial wedding.

Every inch of the palace itself was richly lit and decorated, and the kitchen maids and demon attendants rushed about serving food and countless types of beverages.

Following Shen Qingqiu’s wishes for an informal party, Shang Qinghua had arranged a standing buffet with plenty of seats and resting spots instead of a heavy, formal meal. What was a common alternative in modern times was entirely novel and revolutionary in that world of demons and cultivators, so everyone bustled around in wonder, piling up bits of the various kinds of food on their plates until they overflowed. 

Shang Qinghua found himself playing an unexpected double role that night. The wedding planner was busy as ever, as he still had to supervise the celebration and solve the unavoidable last-minute problems that came up here and there. On the other hand, Consort Shang, now officially presented in society, had to go around with his fiance, making polite conversation with eminent personalities who wanted to get in Mobei Jun’s good graces by flattering his mate.

This social dichotomy began to wear Shang Qinghua down pretty quickly, and it was not yet long past midnight when he felt his feet and brain were on the verge of disintegration.

Luckily for him, he was not alone in his misery: Empress Cucumber was more or less in the same state. Unfortunately for the newlyweds, while everyone enjoyed the abundant flow of delicacies, the royal couple couldn’t help but politely receive the good wishes and blessings of every personality of influence in attendance. And there were many, many nobles eager to win the favor of the new Emperor and Empress.

When a chocolate fountain made its triumphant entrance into the ballroom, there was finally a hiatus in the constant flow of salutations. Demons loved chocolate, but it was highly poisonous for them, so Shang Qinghua had commissioned a team of human chefs to create an edible alternative for the party. The cooks came up with a sweet substance made from a sugary tuber typical of the demon realm; not quite the same, but close enough. 

It was an instant success. Mobei Jun and Shang Qinghua took the chance to approach the royal couple. 

“Emperor Luo, Empress Shen, I wish you both a long, prosperous marriage,” said Shang Qinghua with a tired smile. “I do hope the celebratory feast is up to your expectations.”

“If we ever get to taste a bite, I’m sure we’ll rather like everything, Consort Shang,” answered Shen Qingqiu with a resentful pout. “I’m starving, and we are yet to get blessed by a number of distinguished nobodies.”

Mobei Jun chuckled. He honestly liked petty, informal Shen Qingqiu much better than his usual composed self.

“From now on, we’ll take a break every fifteen greetings to taste a dish,” sanctioned Luo Binghe, holding Shen Qingqiu’s hand. “I don’t want Shizun to starve at our wedding celebration.”

“Isn't it time for you to stop calling me Shizun? I have dozens of titles for you to choose from now, and it’s been quite some time since I last taught you anything.”

“So what should I call you from now on?”

“We've been married twice, Binghe. What do you think?”

Luo Binghe’s face lit up with excitement.

“Are you serious? I thought Shizun didn't like it when I called him that!”

Shen Qingqiu smiled and shook his head helplessly.

“This wife is completely serious.”

“May this husband still call you Shizun in bed?”

“You may, you kinky little beast.”

“Aaaaand that’s our cue to leave, my king,” exclaimed Shang Qinghua, bewildered. Those two were lucky to hold the highest-ranked position in the entire realm. Otherwise, they would have been sent to horny jail with a life sentence a long time ago.

“Actually, I was hoping to have a word with you in private, Shang-shidi. Would you excuse us, gentlemen?” said Shen Qingqiu, taking Shang Qinghua’s arm. 

“Of course. Actually, we need to discuss some things too. We’ll take the chance to go to my office. Shall we, General?” said Luo Binghe, lightly kicking Mobei Jun’s arm.

“Of course, Your Highness,” answered the demon. “Let us go now. The guests are still busy around that edible mud tower.”

“It’s a chocolate fountain!” yelled Shang Qinghua, aggrieved, as Shen Qingqiu dragged him out into the hallway.

They entered the imperial chambers and threw themselves in a huge velvet ottoman.

“Fuck, I can’t feel my feet,” said the Empress, throwing his shoes away and rubbing his feet.

“You? Look at these !” whined Shang Qinghua, exposing the blisters on his feet with indignation. “I can’t feel anything below my knees.”

“Ew, dude, keep those things away from me,” whelped Shen Qingqiu, wrinkling his nose.

“So, what do you want now?” asked Shang Qinghua unceremoniously, laying down to rest. “Or were you just trying to escape your royal obligations for a bit?”

“I can’t deny that I wanted a breather, but I do have something to tell you. I spoke with Yue Qingyuan. About you.”

Shang Qinghua raised his head and stared at him, surprised.

“About me?” he repeated, baffled. “What did you talk about?”

“Many things. First of all, I requested some time off on your behalf. I know you. The moment you set foot in An Ding Peak you’ll reset into workaholic mode.”

“Whoa, you did? I was thinking about doing it myself, but I couldn’t decide how much time to request. I’d love to get two weeks off, but I feared it would be pushing it too much. How much time did you ask Yue-shixiong for?

“A year.”

Shang Qinghua stood up so fast that he stumbled on his shoes and fell down.

“A year?!”

“Yup.”

“Dude, that’s insane!”

“Why? This is not corporate hell like it was back in the modern world. I’m the lord of one of the most important Peaks of the sect and I only stop by Qing Jing Peak once a month or so.”

“That’s because Yue Qingyuan lets you fuck around as you please! It’s a privilege, not a standard. The dude would give you whatever you want.”

“I know, and that’s why he approved your leave.”

Shang Qinghua blinked, eyes so wide open they were about to pop from their sockets.

“You’re shitting me.”

“Nope. Once the party is over, you’re off. You don’t even have to check in with An Ding Peak before leaving if you don’t feel like it.”

“But– but who’s gonna run things in my absence?”

“Your head disciple is a very competent kid. He took command of that dozen or so seniors you assigned under his orders and they have been running the place as a cooperative of sorts. Works pretty well.”

Shang Qinghua remained silent. He couldn’t believe his ears. He hadn’t even begun processing the unexpected reality of his freedom when Cucumber bro went on the offensive again.

“That’s not all.”

“Dude, I haven’t even thanked you yet–”

“Later, later. I’ve been burning to spill the beans for days. Listen up, and don’t interrupt me until I’m done, you hear me? I’m the Empress, I can and will punch you in the nuts.”

Shang Qinghua sat back down and nodded, mouth tightly shut.

“I asked Yue Qingyuan for something more. I told him it would be like a wedding gift from him. We talked a lot about it, and he finally approved it, provided you are okay with it. You ready?”

Shang Qinghua nodded energetically, barely breathing.

“How would you feel about being the next Qing Jing Peak lord?”

Shang Qinghua blinked. And then blinked some more. And then he burst into three simple words.

“What the fuck?!”

Shen Qingqiu shrugged.

“Think about it. It’s a well-oiled machine, not particularly demanding. Ning Yingying and Ming Fan run the place perfectly fine on their own. You would be living in a quiet place, with plenty of free time to do your own thing. You could come and go from Mobei Jun’s palace at ease. And it’s the perfect working atmosphere for a writer, if you ask me.”

Shang Qinghua swallowed hard, fighting back the burning water swelling in the corner of his eyes.

“You’d give up your Qing Jing Peak so I can go back to my writing?”

“Well, not entirely,” admitted Shen Qingqiu with a wicked smile. “The one condition Yue Qingyuan gave me to greenlight the plan was that I remained part of the sect as your advisor. He wants me to visit regularly, attend the Peak Lord meetings, have a drink with everyone now and then.”

“That makes sense from a logistical point of view,” muttered Shang Qinghua, trying desperately to process all that information.

“I guess. Truth is, now that Binghe and I are formally crowned and shit, I won’t be able to continue fucking around back and forth between the demon realm and Cang Qiong Mountain. This solves the issue nicely enough. I have my own condition, though.”

“What is it?”

“The Bamboo House is off limits,” Cucumber bro warned, threat in his eyes. “That’s mine forever. You’ll have more than enough funds to build your own lodging.”

“As if I would put a single toe in that sex hut of yours!” laughed Shang Qinghua, sticking his tongue out. “I wouldn’t even if Mu Qingfang sanitized the entire place twice.”

“So, is that a yes?”

Shang Qinghua thought about it for a few moments.

“It’s too good to be true,” he said slowly. “I don’t– I don’t feel I deserve it. I want to, but–”

“Bullshit,” interrupted Shen Qingqiu, waving his hand with impatience. “You’re more than capable. If you want to thank Fate for your good luck, write a new book. A good one. You’re free now, Master Airplane. You have the time, you’re not bound to the horny whims of a bunch of dweeb readers. Write what you want for once. Maybe change your pen name, tho. And add monsters if you can. You have a knack for–”

Shang Qinghua couldn’t let him finish blabbing. He jumped on him and hugged him tightly.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice breaking a bit. “You petty, annoying, peerless asshole. Thank you, Shen Yuan.”

Shen Qingqiu smiled and patted Shang Qinghua’s back.

“All right, all right, enough with the affection; you’re creeping me out,” he said, pushing Shang Qinghua away. “And speaking of peerless assholes … I have one more thing for you.”

That introduction set off Shang Qinghua’s alarm bells. His eyes fixated on Shen Qingqiu as he bustled around the many drawers in his personal wardrobe.

“Here they are!” he exclaimed, raising a small booklet and a thin, purple crystal bottle between his hands. He presented the objects to Shang Qinghua with great solemnity.

“What is this?” asked Master Airplane, eyeing the vial with frank distrust.

“This is a valuable gift from the Madam of the Succubi Clan. I bestow it upon you as a token of our brohood. Use it wisely.”

“Dude, is this an aphrodisiac?” inquired Shang Qinghua, holding the bottle by the cap as if it burned his hands. “Are you out of your mind? And what is this book–”

He looked at the first page and froze from head to toe.

“Courtship of Moshang?” he cried, mouth dry. “What the flying fuck is this!”

“A wedding gift from Sleeping Willow Flower themselves. I don’t know why the hell they thought it would be appropriate to give this to me or how they managed to sneak it into the palace; it just appeared on my pillow. It is a special edition. They signed it and everything. It’s not even published yet. It’s so rare I’m almost regretting giving it to you, but I figured you could use the information.”

“What information?!” whined Shang Qinghua, not daring to read further.

“Come on, dude, you wrote like a million words of uninterrupted sex scenes yourself.”

“This is different! Oh my God, this is so embarrassing I want to die!”

“I’m the star of ten books, a whole-ass trilogy, and at least five brothel songs,” seethed Shen Qingqiu. “You can deal with one little booklet.”

“I still don’t know what use you expect me to give a bottle of horny-juice and a porn fic,” Shang Qinghua admitted, shaking his head in disbelief. “We were having a nice bonding moment and you burned it to ashes.”

“Just take them. You’ll need them soon enough. Just a sip of the elixir is more than enough, don’t overdose or they’ll have to lock you in a cage. And dude, remember, just… relax. Clenching is not gonna make anyone happy, trust me.”

With that last snippet of wisdom, Empress Shen patted his bro’s back sympathetically and returned to the ballroom, leaving Consort Shang with a lot to think about and an unholy number of unanswered questions.

Chapter Text

After years of non-stop labor, Shang Qinghua made a disturbing discovery: freedom is a very unsettling thing for a workaholic. 

Once the wedding celebration was over, the guests back home, and the royal couple gone on their honeymoon, Shang Qinghua discovered himself with a fully complete To Do list and a year’s worth of free time in his hands.

In his usual fantasies of liberty, he used to picture himself running toward the sunset, enjoying intense waves of bliss and relief that made him shiver from head to toe. However, reality is never kind to those with active imaginations, and Shang Qinghua was definitely not an exception.

Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu would be absent for an entire month, so it was decided that Sha Hualing would be in charge of the palace business in his stead. Mobei Jun had already requested some time off to keep Shang Qinghua company during his sabbatical. However, the emperor had asked his General to assist the demoness until they made sure everything was on track before returning to his kingdom.

That being settled, the ice demon spent most of the day arranging official matters with Sha Hualing. That left Shang Qinghua to his own devices for entertainment during the day.

He spent the first couple of days idly walking around, getting used to his new reality. His first ever leave of absence. Becoming the new Qing Jing Peak lord. Writing again, for real this time. His future with Mobei Jun. He had plenty of material to overthink about.

However, he was used to quick problem-solving. His brain was simply wired to work in permanent survival mode; he processed things fast and crossed out pending items at an industrial pace. Soon enough he had naturally come to terms with most of the upcoming major changes in his life. 

Entirely free again, he decided it was time to face the unavoidable. He summoned all the power of his thick face and forced himself to read Courtship of Moshang .

Cucumber bro said he’d find useful information in that cursed booklet; Shang Qinghua locked the door, took a deep breath, and dived in.

The initial impact was harsh. He was instantly overwhelmed by the deep cringe that burned his brain at reading himself getting ravished in all kinds of unholy ways. Baby Jesus in a stroller, author, it is certainly not safe to use icicles in such ways! However, no matter how nefarious the content was, the short chapters eventually got repetitive and Shang Qinghua became immunized to the lewdness. Once he reached that stage of enlightenment, he had to admit that the text was indeed informative.

Sleeping Willow Flower had by then authored several books, and not only was their style considerably better, but the graphic acts depicted were so much more realistic. They had clearly invested some time doing actual research, God knows how and where. One could even pick up a helpful tip or two.

The elixir Cucumber bro had given him was mentioned repeatedly throughout the volume, and it was always used as part of the preparations before the actual debauchery began. Shang Qinghua engraved the bizarre instructions into his heart to make good use of them when the time came. 

He ardently hoped his Mobei Jun wasn’t as unhinged and visceral as the one in the book. Shang Qinghua had no experience whatsoever, but he suspected he was probably as vanilla as his granny’s homemade vanilla cupcakes with white chocolate vanilla sprinkles. He was eager, but also very much aware of the intimidating difference in physique between him and his fiance.

Writing the most depraved, kinky acts conceivable to humankind was one thing; actually surviving them was another! He wondered if Karma would come to very literally get his ass for the unending acts of degeneracy he had put the original Bing-ge through.

He shook his head, pushing the thoughts away. Freaking out about it wouldn’t help at all; besides, Mobei Jun didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry to seal the deal.

After that one time when they both got a bit too carried away for comfort, the demon had locked his impulses away and turned into a severe beacon of self-restraint. He was so good at keeping it together that Shang Qinghua began harboring doubts about his own appeal again. Mobei Jun barely even kissed him anymore; Shang Qinghua would be lucky to get a quick, chaste peck on a good day. What if the demon had changed his mind once the romantic rush of the wedding chaos was finally over?

What if he had cooled down and realized Shang Qinghua was not good enough for him?

Was he good enough for him, truth be told? A plain cannon fodder? An underdog?

What if working closely with Sha Hualing opened his eyes to her many charms?

Was that why he always returned to their room so late, and so unwilling to stay up and chat for a bit?

The whirlwind of intrusive thoughts was overwhelming. To his dismay, it dawned on him he had conditioned himself to cope with his treacherous brain by working himself into numbness. Now that he had no work whatsoever, the tête à tête with his mind was unavoidable, and it terrified him.

He opened the blank book Cucumber bro had given him to distract himself by writing, but no ideas came to mind. He hadn’t even come up with a single word but had already succumbed to writer’s block. How lame was he?

He shut the book and paced around the room, trying to come up with something to do. How did people chill, for fuck’s sake? How could anyone just relax and do nothing without falling into a pit of anxiety? 

It was getting hard to breathe. He recognized the early symptoms of his usual freakouts. 

He could absolutely not live like that for a whole month. Mobei Jun could stay in the demon palace and do whatever he had to for however long he pleased. Shang Qinghua would not stay there and passively wait all day just for him to return late at night and pass out on the bed.

He made up his mind. He’d go back to An Ding Peak. He’d help his head disciple and the cooperative to organize their appointment as long-term replacements of their peak lord. 

Having a goal again put him at ease immediately; the torturing thoughts were replaced with the eager urgency of getting things done. He rang the bell by the chamber’s door with energy.

Chu Hua, who had been instructed to tend to Shang Qinghua during the Empress’ absence, knocked on the door shortly after.

She was surprised to see Consort Shang packing his belongings like there was no tomorrow.

“Are Consort Shang and lord Mobei Jun leaving the palace?” she asked, confused. She was told they would stay for at least another fortnight.

“No, just me,” Shang Qinghua answered, stuffing a load of books in a tattered suitcase. “Chu Hua, would you kindly have the kitchen make some travel snacks for me? Nothing fancy. I’m only going back to Cang Qiong Mountain, so it won’t be a long trip.”

Chu Hua hesitated, but said nothing. She bowed respectfully and left to do as she was told.

Humming a cheerful tune, Shang Qinghua was completely packed in no time. All that was missing were the travel snacks. Chu Hua surely was taking her time.

A fleeting moment of clarity emerged from his foggy mind, to remind him that he should probably tell Mobei Jun he was leaving. 

He frowned. It was the right thing to do, but what if the demon simply shrugged him off and dismissed him? What if he didn’t care? Shang Qinghua didn’t think he could take it with grace and dignity, and the last thing he wanted was to bawl his eyes out in front of Sha Hualing and a bunch of judgemental palace officials.

No, he couldn’t bear it. He’d just go first and ask Chu Hua to inform him whenever he took a break from his obligations. It was not as if Mobei Jun didn’t know how to get to An Ding Peak; he had kidnapped Shang Qinghua from there on a regular basis. Ah, good times. Simpler times.

He was about to give up on the snacks and just go when he heard the door opening behind him.

“Took you long enough, Chu Hua,” he scolded, picking up his bags. “Listen, I need you to give lord Mobei Jun a message once he’s available.”

“I’m listening.”

Shang Qinghua froze and dropped his bags. Mobei Jun towered before him, expression dark, holding a tiny trail with the travel snacks. Behind him, Chu Hua bowed apologetically and closed the door.

“Do I have to catch your attendant sneaking around with travel rations to find out you’re leaving?” he asked, voice hoarse with reproach.

Shang Qinghua swallowed. It had been a good while since he last saw Mobei Jun’s angry face. 

“You were so busy today. I didn’t want to interrupt you,” said Shang Qinghua in a tiny voice. Mobei Jun frowned.

“So you planned for me to come back to an empty room at night and draw my own conclusions?”

“I was about to ask Chu Hua to inform you,” protested Shang Qinghua, well aware that it was a weak-ass excuse. “It’s nothing important.”

“You leaving me is unimportant to you?” inquired the demon in a hurt tone.

“I am not leaving you! I was just going back to An Din Peak for a while, is all.”

Mobei Jun dropped the snacks on the nearest table and went to Shang Qinghua. He grabbed his hand and forced him to sit down with him on the bed. 

“You promised you wouldn’t leave again,” he said, eyebrows knit together. “Are you so unhappy you found no alternative but running away?”

Shang Qinghua hesitated. He knew damn well that communication always does the trick, but he was too embarrassed to follow his own healthy advice. He simply couldn’t voice his lame concerns just like that. All he could do was fix his eyes on the floor and shake his head, trying to push down the knot in his throat.

“Has anyone in the palace been unkind to you?” asked Mobei Jun, uneasy.

Shang Qinghua shook his head again.

 “Have I hurt you again in any way?” 

Silence.

Mobei Jun sighed and took Shang Qinghua’s chin to raise his head, forcing him to meet his eyes.

“Qinghua, talk to me,” he pleaded.

He looked so distressed that Shang Qinghua couldn’t take it anymore. He made a stupid decision on the spur of the moment, disregarding all the warnings in his head. He sprang up, grabbed Mobei Jun’s face between his hands, and tried to kiss him.

Mobei Jun automatically backed down and turned his head away.

That small, spontaneous reflex of rejection was enough to shatter Shang Qinghua’s last remaining defenses. 

He scoffed and walked away to hide the tears running down his face.

“I knew it; you don’t want me anymore,” he sobbed, going for his bags.

“What?” Mobei Jun jumped up, alarmed. “Where are you going? Why are you leaving?”

“Why keep me around if you won’t even touch me?” jabbed Shang Qinghua, angrily trying to put on both bags at once. One of them slipped his hand and fell back on the ground, spilling all its contents. Shang Qinghua groaned and kicked it away. “Do you think I can just stay around like some kind of glorified pet?”

“ Pet? You are my mate!” exclaimed Mobei Jun, confused beyond words. 

“Well it doesn’t show!” blurted Shang Qinghua, wiping away the tears with his sleeve. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, I don’t know what made you change your mind, but I can’t bear to stay here if I repulse you so much you won’t even kiss me anymore. I don’t understand the ways of demons, so if this mark you gave me is forcing you to stick around me, it’s fine– it’s fine–”

He was sobbing so hard he couldn’t say the most important part of his wild tirade. Maybe because deep down, he didn’t want to. He took a deep breath and spoke as quickly as he could before his voice broke down completely. Mobei Jun simply stared at him, petrified.

“I mean to say it’s fine if you– if you want out,” he hiccuped. “I’m human. Whatever this mark means to your kind, it’s of no consequence to mine. There is no contractual obligation between us or anything. You’re free. Just…let me go, okay? I understand, but that doesn’t mean I want to see you– courting someone else. I can’t bear it. So just let me go back home.”

Mobei Jun let out a deep growl and strode toward him. He grabbed both of Shang Qinghua’s arms between his claws.

“Your home is with me,” he said, terrified. “Do you think I’d go around marking anyone for no reason? I’ve been trying to make you mine for years. I’ve done all I could to win back your trust. You are my mate. My mate.” he repeated.

“Then why won’t you touch me or talk to me?” accused Shang Qinghua, squirming between his arms. “You come back every night, hardly say a word to me, go to sleep, and then leave before I wake up. Ever since the wedding celebration you’ve been avoiding me. You’re so weird ! I miss you so much it’s driving me crazy. You can’t play prince charming and then go all aloof demon lord on me again, you clueless– inconsiderate– ice– ice giant! 

Mobei Jun clicked his tongue, lifted Shang Qinghua up into his arms, and shut him up with a kiss so deep it left him gasping for air.

“I never meant to neglect you,” the demon said, lightly biting Shang Qinghua’s lips. “I’m at my limit. I can barely keep myself in check around you anymore. But this is not the place nor the time.”

“Then take me to the place, and make the time,” Shang Qinghua whispered. “You said I could have whatever I wanted. Well, I want you . Are you keeping your word or not?”

Shang Qinghua was too riled up with emotions to think clearly. He just knew what he wanted, and acted to fulfill that one need. He was fed up with the palace, the obligations, the rituals, the right time and place. It could all go to hell. He clasped his arms around Mobei Jun’s neck and bit his earlobe with a tad more force than necessary to make his point. 

The demon moaned and immediately put Shang Qinghua down.

“Chu Hua!” he roared. Not a minute after, the little demoness opened the door and walked in, awfully intimidated.

“My lord?”

“Tell lady Sha Hualing I’m taking my leave,” he ordered. “I am not to be disturbed for the rest of the week. She’s more than able to operate on her own from now on. And send those to my palace,” he added, pointing at Shang Qinghua’s forgotten bags.

“Yes, my lord.”

As soon as the girl closed the door behind her, Mobei Jun opened a portal before him and picked Shang Qinghua up again.

“Where are we going?” Shang Qinghua gasped, clutching Mobei Jun’s neck with alarm.

“Back home, before I upset you again and you try to abandon me in secret,” the demon answered, frowning in an almost comical way. “You’re so unpredictable and hard to understand. It’s infuriating. I can’t get my eyes off you. You unruly little imp.”

“Well, you– you- you always go ahead and act on your own and never say a word! You blockhead!” protested Shang Qinghua, aggrieved.

“Quiet. Hold your breath until we cross to the other side.”

Shang Qinghua shut his eyes and mouth in offended compliance. He then felt the flowing rush of spiritual energy that kept the portal open, and after a few seconds, a chilly wave hit his face.

He gasped and opened his eyes. He was greeted by the familiar sight of crystal-clear hallways, glowing with a permanent, sparkling layer of ice.

Simultaneously, Mobei Jun and Shang Qinghua let out a deep sigh of relief. The cold atmosphere was a welcome change after such a prolonged stay in Luo Binghe’s scorching-hot domains.

Mobei Jun put Shang Qinghua down and summoned the palace head butler. The old demon manifested at once out of thin air and bowed deeply to his master.

“Welcome back, Your Highness. Welcome back, master Shang,” he added when he spotted Shang Qinghua half-hiding behind the king, almost entirely covered by his winter cloak. 

“Summon everyone,” curtly said Mobei Jun. “At once.”

“Everyone, my lord?”

“Palace staff, army generals and spokespeople. I have an announcement to make that cannot wait. Make haste.”

“Certainly, my lord.”

The demon vanished before them. Mobei Jun stood still in complete silence, arms crossed. He looked so stern Shang Qinghua didn’t dare to say a word. 

The abrupt change in temperature began to affect him, though; he shivered and his teeth clattered so loudly that Mobei Jun noticed his discomfort. He placed his hand on Shang Qinghua’s shoulder and began absorbing all the surrounding cold energy.

Shang Qinghua suddenly felt a surge of warmth; shielded from the frosty influence of the palace, his own body temperature rose back. Besides, he noticed Mobei Jun was subtly pulsing warm waves of energy into his body. He felt cozy and comfortable under the cloak. Without saying a word, he rested his cheek against Mobei Jun’s hand and sighed contentedly.

Mobei Jun took a peak at him and shook his head.

“You’re so unfair,” he muttered.

Soon enough, a small crowd of demons gathered before them, giving Shang Qinghua curious looks. They had all witnessed their master’s attempts at wooing the human for years. Seeing the wee creature wrapped under the king’s cloak, they wondered if he had lost his patience at last and decided to kidnap himself a bride, like the monarchs of yore.

“I have an announcement to make,” said Mobei Jun, calling everyone’s attention. 

He took Shang Qinghua’s hand and raised it, exposing the mark. The demons gasped.

“Shang Qinghua has become my mate, and your new Queen,” he proclaimed. “You are to serve him well. Housekeeper, assign a lady-in-waiting for Her Highness and have her report to me at once. That’s all. You’re dismissed.”

The demons sang a monotone “Long live the Queen” , bowed, and scattered away as quickly as they had gathered. Shang Qinghua was impressed. The ice demon race was truly a practical, no-nonsense kind.

He felt he had to say something, but for the life of him didn’t know what; Mobei Jun didn’t seem to be in the mood for chatting either. He picked Shang Qinghua up again and carried him princess-style down the hallway.

“My king, I can walk, you know,” he muttered, a bit flustered. 

“I know,” was the only answer he got.

Mobei Jun suddenly stopped and opened an enormous set of double stone doors that was subtly concealed in one of the walls. The entrance led to a narrow set of rough rock stairs that descended in a spiral. A warm, thick fog rose from the bottom of that dark tunnel.

Shang Qinghua stared in awe as Mobei Jun walked down. The walls were bejeweled in bioluminescent crystals, covered with a layer of frost so delicate it shone like silver dust. 

“What is this place?” he asked, resisting the impulse to reach out and touch those beautiful natural gems.

Soon he saw the answer himself. The stairs ended in a cozy cavern that hosted a huge natural spring. The mist that came from the hot water condensed in the roof, each droplet sparkling like a tiny jewel.

Mobei Jun put Shang Qinghua down and gestured to the warm water.

“Take a bath,” he said, and then pointed to a nearby door carved in the rock walls. “Go through that door when you’re done. It leads to my chambers.”

“But my clothes–”

“Someone will bring you inner robes. You’ll find fresh garments in the room.”

Shang Qinghua winced. It was all very nice indeed, but he felt uneasy. Despite his previous words and that kiss that had given him palpitations, Mobei Jun was acting distant again. There was a new, strange distance between them that made him nervous. 

He should have kept his mouth shut and left things as they were. He feared he had pressured the demon to abandon his duty at the palace and cornered him into presenting his new Queen. He didn’t seem happy at all. Fuck, what an innate talent he had to screw things up! All he had wanted was for Mobei Jun to pay him a bit more attention. How did they end up arguing and throwing themselves into that awkward state of affairs?

When Mobei Jun turned to leave, Shang Qinghua reached out and held his hand on impulse.

“Won’t you–” he swallowed hard. “Won’t you help me undress?”

To hell with it. If he had fucked up, he might as well take it to the last consequences.

Mobei Jun stared at him expressionless for a moment, and then silently complied.

Feeling his face burn like a million fires, Shang Qinghua turned and let the demon disrobe him. There wasn’t much to take off, really, as he had put on his plainest work outfit to travel comfortably back to Can Qiong Mountain.

Despite his lewd efforts, the intimate act ended up being more awkward than sensual. Mobei Jun was unfamiliar with the intricate wrappings of An Din Peak’s uniform, and ended up shredding several pieces in his impatience. The scene was nothing like what Sleeping Willow Flower had described in her hot spring-located stories.

As things were, Shang Qinghua found himself half-naked on his own, in front of a guy covered with a fur coat, with a face so vacant it seemed made of stone. It was awkward as all hell, and it took all he had to avoid jumping into the spring to save some face.

Shang Qinghua submerged himself in the warm water until only half of his face was visible, and stubbornly refused to turn around. 

“There’s something I have to do,” said Mobei Jun, clearing his throat. “I’ll meet you later in the room.”

Shang Qinghua didn’t answer. He nodded weakly.

Just leave already, you frigid ice block! Let me self-loathe in peace.

“I’ll send a servant to check on you in a while,” added Mobei Jun, walking away. “Let them know if there’s anything you need.”

Shang Qinghua pressed his lips tight under the water. He was pissed, and maybe it was the effect of the hot water on his tense body, but he felt bold and combative.

“There is something I need,” he said.

Mobei Jun stopped in his tracks and turned back. The vision that attacked him then shocked him frozen on the spot.

Shang Qinghua was lying on the cavern floor, arms crossed. His hair was soaked wet, dripping water down his naked back. The silhouette of his lower body, fully submerged, was faintly visible through the layer of mist that fogged the surface of the spring.

“What do you need,” he muttered, mouth dry. It was not a question, but a grunt. Shang Qinghua flinched a bit, thinking he had crossed the line. He lost his sudden burst of courage in a second.

“It’s nothing,” he quickly said, sinking back in. “I thought maybe we could bathe together, but you’re very busy. It doesn’t matter. See you later.”

The immediate echo of footsteps up the stairs tormented him. Mobei Jun hadn’t even hesitated. He covered his face with both hands, dove underwater, and let out a frustrated squeal. How weak was his sex appeal? What was he thinking, making a complete fool out of himself like that?

If he hadn’t been so busy cursing himself and turned around at the right moment, maybe he would have caught a glimpse of Mobei Jun’s hungry, almost desperate expression when Shang Qinghua withdrew his failed request.

The demon ran his claws through his hair, biting his lips so hard they bled a bit. He rushed upstairs, fearing his fragile self-restraint would shatter if he spent one more second in that cavern.

Shang Qinghua spent a long time soaking in the hot spring, trying to get himself together.

What was he doing? Was he so desperate for attention that he had just tried to pressure his partner into intimacy? What was his plan if Mobei Jun had actually fallen for it, uh?

Shame on you, Master Airplane! Real relationships don’t work like your random disposable Proud Immortal Demon Way rendezvous.

He had made an asshole out of himself, and all he had to show for it was an indifferent, potentially pissed-off partner and a brand new collection of cringe memories that would haunt him for years to come.

He groaned and bit his lips, swearing to do better. 

A sudden knock on the door that led to Mobei Jun’s chambers startled Shang Qinghua so much that he swallowed a mouthful of hot water.

“Who is it?” he managed to yell, coughing and feeling like an idiot for the tenth time that day.

“Your Highness, it’s your lady-in-waiting,” said a gentle voice from the other side. “I bring your new robes. May I come in?”

“Yes, come in.”

The stone door opened and a demoness walked in. She was a petite, delicate-looking creature, quite different from the average tall, muscular female of the ice demon folk. He wondered if the palace housekeeper had chosen her so the queen wouldn’t have to strain his neck looking up every time he addressed his attendee.

“My name is Xin Yi. It’s a pleasure to meet you, my queen.”

“Likewise,” mumbled Shang Qinghua, a bit flustered. It was his first time hearing someone address him like that. He finally understood Cucumber bro’s annoyance when the whole Lady Shen business began.

“I will leave your inner robes here,” Xin Yi said, placing the clothes on a nearby dry rock. “Once the queen is done with her bath, please call for me and I will help you dress in your chambers. I will be waiting outside.”

“Thank you. You may leave now. I will change and go to you right away.”

“Yes, my queen.” The girl bowed and left. 

Shang Qinghua gathered strength and left the refuge of the spring. He reckoned that the waters had an invigorating effect. He felt refreshed, so at least his body was in decent shape now, even if his mind was in disarray. He sat down on the warm floor of the cave until the hot steam dried him, put on the robes, and marched through the door.

He had prepared himself to freeze once he entered Mobei Jun’s chambers, but to his great surprise, the atmosphere was nearly as cozy as the spring cavern.

He took a good look around with curiosity; he had never been in Mobei Jun’s private rooms before. His vivid imagination had painted a gloomy, dark cave-like lair covered in a layer of ice and plagued with stalactites and stalagmites.

Luckily for him, Mobei Jun was not a mountain troll, so the chambers were entirely normal, if a bit empty. Everything was neat and clean, but it didn’t seem that anyone actually lived there. It wasn’t surprising, really; the entire palace was rather minimalistic as regards decorations. Ice-folk didn’t have the patience for such nonsense it seemed.

The one thing that breathed life into the ambiance was a huge fireplace that burned with a roaring fire.

It was rather unexpected, given how Mobei Jun suffered overly-heated spaces, but welcome nonetheless; Shang Qinghua approached it and let the warmth nicely toast his face.

In a slightly better mood, he called for Xin Yi.

The demoness entered the room at once, carefully carrying a second set of robes and a hairpiece decorated with all kinds of cobalt blue and turquoise jewels. 

Shang Qinghua was entirely unused to having other people helping him dress and felt quite self-conscious as Xin Yi aided him, but he was not familiar with the typical clothing style of the ice realm and he wanted– no, needed to look his best that night. Whatever boosted his self-esteem was a must.

“My queen, may I comb your hair? I will fix your hairpiece too,” gently said Xin Yi.

Shang Qinghua nodded, blushing a bit. He could only imagine what his head looked like after being soaked, dried in hot steam, and then scorched near the fireplace. His only comfort was that his hair had grown quite a bit, so maybe the girl would have more to work with.

Despite his apprehensions, Xin Yi made no comments. She got to work diligently and after a good while, she managed to get the hairpiece firm and steady over Shang Qinghua’s ponytail.

“My queen looks lovely,” she declared, satisfied. “Would you like to see?”

Too proud of her results to wait for an answer, Xin Yi fetched a mirror and held it before Shang Qinghua.

He reluctantly peeked at his reflection.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed, staring at the mirror. “Girl, you’re a miracle-maker.”

The demoness was a bit surprised at the sudden informality, but quickly recovered and giggled in delight.

“I’m glad my queen is satisfied.”

Shang Qinghua was sincerely pleased with his appearance. His hair was tame and neat, not unlike how it looked when the imperial hairdressers had worked their magic with it. The outfit Mobei Jun sent him was quite becoming too; the set of light, luxurious pale blue silk looked honestly good against Shan Qinghua’s tan skin.

“Satisfied? I love it. I want you to dress me up every day.”

“It will be my honor. My queen, if you please, I have orders to take you to the master’s private office as soon as you are ready.”

Oh. Well, it’s not like he didn’t see it coming. He had brought it on himself. It was awkward conversation time.

“I see. Let us go now.”

“Yes, my queen.”

Shang Qinghua followed the demoness through a series of hallways he was more familiar with. He had never visited Mobei Jun’s chambers, but his office was a place in which they both had spent quite some time. When they walked past his old room, he felt something strange and hard to define. Was it melancholy? Self-pity? Who knew. He was getting more and more nervous with each step he took. He had no time to ponder about the ghost of his past self.

Once they arrived, Xin Yi politely knocked on the door.

“My lord, Her Highness the Queen is here as per your request.”

“Leave us and let everyone know we are not to be disturbed under any circumstances,” ordered the demon’s stern voice from inside.

Xin Yi bowed to Shang Qinghua and took her leave, leaving him alone at the door.

Shang Qinghua took a deep breath, adjusted the collar of his robes around his neck and walked in, closing the door behind him.

The moment he stepped foot in the office, he was shocked once more by the unexpected surprise of a lively fireplace. 

“That wasn’t there before,” was the first thing he said, without even thinking. 

“I had fireplaces built all around the palace,” was the nonchalant answer. “You hate being cold.”

Shang Qinghua swallowed and forced himself to look at Mobei Jun.

He was wearing a set of robes identical to his own; even his endless black hair was braided and neatly tied with a matching hairpiece.

Shang Qinghua stared at him, feeling such a massive cloud of butterflies in his stomach he feared he’d lift off the ground at any moment. 

Mobei Jun smiled and walked to him. He wrapped Shang Qinghua between his arms and rested his chin on the top of his head.

“You look lovely,” said the demon with a sigh.

“That was my line,” muttered Shang Qinghua, wishing he had a fan to hide his blushing face á la Cucumber bro style.

“Do you feel better?” asked Mobei Jun, gently pushing Shang Qinghua away to examine his face.

“Better?”

“You were very agitated earlier,” the demon said, frowning. “I upset you again. I’m sorry. I–”

“No, I’m the one who should apologize,” interrupted Shang Qinghua. “I’m sorry I got ahead of myself. I don’t mean to rush things. I’m such a fool. I never wanted to pressure you into doing something you don’t want. I can wait.”

“But I can’t,” said Mobei Jun, leaning down to be at Shang Qinghua’s eye level. “I wished to do this right so I kept postponing it, but I can’t anymore. I want you too much. So, Qinghua…”

He moved aside and gestured toward a small table placed in the middle of the parlor. Two steaming bowls were already served.

“Will you do me the honor of joining me for dinner?” asked Mobei Jun, visibly nervous.

Shang Qinghua blinked, baffled. Why the hell was he being so ridiculously formal about food? He made it sound like a proposal—

Wait. 

“My king, this has some kind of special meaning, doesn’t it?” Shang Qinghua asked, cautious. He wanted no more misunderstandings, not for the rest of his life.

“Well, uhm… I am asking you to bond with me,” explained Mobei Jun, taken aback. “Isn’t it clear?”

“Of course it’s not!” exclaimed Shang Qinghua, shaking his head with energy. “You keep assuming I understand why you do random things. How was I supposed to guess that dinner meant bonding ?!”

“Because it’s something meaningful for the both of us; if I invite you to join me and you agree, it means you accept me, doesn’t it?” stammered the demon.

Shang Qinghua felt he was missing something, and something big. He remembered what Cucumber bro had taught him about the bonding ceremony. The couple had to willingly share a symbolic activity as a token of agreement to spend their lives together. But then, how on Earth was a simple dinner meaningful enough to carry the weight of a proposal?

Before adding another word, he took a closer look at the dishes.

And teared up the second he set his eyes on the bowls.

Hand-pulled noodles.

Mobei Jun kept silent, watching Shang Qinghua stare at the bowls without making a sound until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Qinghua…”

“Shuang Xue, if you’ll have me, I will have dinner with you.”

Mobei Jun blinked, mouth half-open. Shang Qinghua wiped away his tears and beamed at him. He took a seat and gestured at the empty chair on the opposite side of the table.

Mobei Jun nodded without making a sound, overwhelmed. He sat down and gave the little person before him the most adoring look.

“Shall we?” Shang Qinghua asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“We shall.”

They ate together in comfortable silence, stealing timid glances at each other until both bowls were completely empty.

Mobei Jun took a long, intense look at the alluring sight before him.

Shang Qinghua laid on the bed, wearing only his inner robes; the pale blue fabric barely covered his chest and legs. His skin seemed to glow in the darkness, slightly illuminated by the warm light coming from the fireplace.

He had pictured that moment in his head countless times, but now that Shang Qinghua was finally his, now that he called his name with unmistakable hunger in his voice, he realized what a poor job his imagination had done. Reality was a thousand times more enticing, so much so that he didn't know what to do with himself.

“Shuang Xue, I can’t wait anymore.”

Mobei Jun felt a wave of shudders down his spine. He was breathing heavily, making an effort to hold on to his last shreds of sanity in order to avoid messing up.

He climbed on the bed and embraced Shang Qinghua. He looked so captivating between his arms, even if he shivered a bit.

“Are you scared?” he whispered in Shang Qinghua’s ear, kissing and licking the side of his neck. “You’re trembling.”

“I’m not scared,” was the answer, slowly slurred between sighs and small whimpers of pleasure. “It’s just… your skin is cold.”

“Is it? You’re so warm. You’re burning me.”

“Do you dislike it?” Shang Qinghua asked in a daze, nuzzling him. He locked his arms around Mobei Jun’s neck, pulling him into a kiss.

“Quite the opposite,” the demon declared, giving in. He lost himself in his mate’s lips as his hands ran through Shang Qinghua’s body, unrestrained, for the first time.

He had feared Shang Qinghua would be frightened, but his beautiful, small man had surprised him yet again. After some moments of initial awkwardness, once they had taken some time to get used to each other in that context, Shang Qinghua had melted in his hands. Petite as he was, his body seemed to fit perfectly against Mobei Jun’s; he quickly accepted his embrace, and every inch of his body reacted to whatever the demon did to him.

Mobei Jun would have never guessed he’d feel complete comfort in being so vulnerable. He was as scared as he was riled up, but his clumsy efforts were reciprocated with such loving patience and eagerness that he couldn’t help but crave for more.

Mating was usually a wild act for demons; they lost themselves in a mindless rut and attacked each other relentlessly until one of them blacked out first. After he realized just how much he lusted for Shang Qinghua, Mobei Jun had been so worried he’d hurt his fragile mate during the act that he had dreaded even touching a hair in his head. 

But things ended up being entirely different. The raw desire he felt was soothed by devotion; the combination of both mellowed the impulses and turned into an array of feelings and sensations that was utterly intoxicating. 

Maybe it was because he loved him so damn much his every move came from a place of affection instead of untamed instinct. Maybe it was because his partner was a human.

Or maybe, and Mobei Jun suspected it was the right answer, it was simply because Shang Qinghua was Shang Qinghua; the one being in the world who had learned to love him sincerely, the one who was bright like the sun. 

He looked deeply into his eyes, taking him in. He bent down his head until their foreheads touched.

“Are you ready?” he whispered, kissing him over and over.

“I am,” Shang Qinghua answered, wrapping his legs around the demon’s waist. “I love you, A-Xue.”

“I love you too. I love you so much.”

A loud sneeze woke Shang Qinghua up. 

He looked around in a groggy daze; it took him a few long seconds to realize that he had sneezed himself up. How long had it been since he got a runny nose? Cultivators’ bodies don’t usually succumb to meager human illnesses; he hadn’t been sick in a couple of years.

Then again, the fire had died at some point during the night and he was naked in the frozen Northern lands, wrapped between the arms of the ice king.

He turned around and snuggled into Mobei Jun’s chest for warmth. The demon looked as dreamy as ever, his long hair scattered throughout the sheets. The lack of clothes only enhanced the sight. Ten out of ten, would recommend, Shang Qinghua thought.

He spent quite some time watching him sleep. His husband. That glorious creature that held his waist tightly even in his sleep was his husband . His bonded partner. 

Shang Qinghua smiled in disbelief. If someone had told him his life of hardships would come to such a conclusion, he would have laughed in their face. Fairy tales didn’t exist. Particularly for underdogs like him.

And yet there he was. Cherished. Loved. And, once he performed a quick self-scan, in one piece. His body ached all over with a strange strain that was both intense but agreeable, and he felt an acute soreness here and there, but the key points were in pretty decent shape considering the physique of the titan sharing his bed. Bless Empress Shen and his shameless gifts. The elixir and the booklet had proven to be invaluable.

In a content daze, Shang Qinghua hugged Mobei Jun so hard he woke him up.

“How do you feel?” were his first words, nuzzling him gently.

“I feel pretty good,” answered Shang Qinghua, kissing him. 

Mobei Jun gave him a long look. His newly bonded mate looked frankly beautiful between his arms, hair messy and eyes radiant. He loved him so very much. 

“What about you?” playfully asked Shang Qinghua, running his fingers through the demon’s dark hair. “How does my king feel?”

The answer was immediate.

“Happy,” he said, pressing his lips against Shang Qinghua’s neck. “You make me so happy.”

“I do?”

“You do. I’ve never felt this way before. It’s overwhelming,” the demon admitted, resting his head on Shang Qinghua’s chest. “Deep down I still fear that someday I might wake up and discover you’re gone. I can’t have that. I can’t live without you anymore.”

Shang Qinghua felt a pang in his chest. He hadn’t realized until then just how much his attempts to leave had impacted Mobei Jun. 

“I won’t leave. We’re bonded, aren’t we? I can’t be apart from you either,” he assured, kissing the mark on the demon’s forehead.

“Do you mean it?”

“Of course I do. And if you don’t trust me, you can always bribe me with noodles,” Shang Qinghua teased. “As long as you keep those coming my way, I’ll stay around forever.”

“Then I’ll make them every day,” Mobei Jun said, lifting Shang Qinghua’s chin delicately with the tip of his fingers. “My queen.”

Shang Qinghua smiled. He realized he had been many things during the course of his two different lives: college student, shut-in web novel writer, cultivator, peak lord, traitor, wedding planner, friend, queen. Only one thing was missing from the list, a thing that he had always craved and that only now he had found, thanks to the unexpected love he had come to share with Mobei Jun.

He had been many things.

But now, Shang Qinghua was finally happy.

“You should eat something. Shall we have breakfast?” asked the demon, smiling.

“No. I want to stay like this for a little longer,” Shang Qinghua said, hugging him.

He allowed himself to relax in Mobei Jun’s arms, fully enjoying the feeling of finally being home.

“I love you, my king.”

The End

Chapter Text

“Qinghua, wake up,” whispered Mobei Jun, gently kissing his partner’s cheek. “We need to go.”

Shang Qinghua blinked a couple of times, confused. He looked out the window; it was way too early to abandon the cozy comfort of the feather duvet.

“Where are we going?” he mumbled, half-asleep. “I don’t remember us having anything scheduled for today.”

Mobei Jun sat on the side of the bed and ran his fingers through Shang Qinghua’s hair. After a month under the zealous care of Xin Yi’s comb, the untamed rebel was beginning to yield. It felt soft and smooth between the demon’s claws.

“We don’t. I got an urgent message from Binghe,” Mobei Jun explained, brow furrowed. “It seems something happened with the Empress. They requested our presence as soon as possible.”

Shang Qinghua sprang up on the bed, alarmed. His mind automatically created a plethora of gloomy scenarios. He knew something was odd with his friend; he just knew it, no matter how hard everyone, Cucumber bro included, tried to attribute it to wedding jitters. Whatever happened must have been serious for Luo Binghe himself to summon them the very minute they arrived from their honeymoon.

He jumped off the bed and got dressed at the speed of light, without even calling Xin Yi. He tied his hair up in a plain ponytail.

“Open the portal,” he said, grabbing Mobei Jun’s arm. “Let’s go.”

The demon did so, and a few moments later, they crossed over to the imperial palace. Chu Hua was already waiting for them. 

“Lord Mobei Jun, Queen Shang,” she greeted, clearly jittery despite her efforts to remain composed. The corners of her mouth trembled visibly. She was trying to bite back a smile. “If you please, follow me.”

The lady-in-waiting took them straight to the imperial chambers without even offering them a refreshment. 

“Chu Hua, do you know what’s going on?” asked Shang Qinghua, uneasy.

“I do, but I’m not at liberty to speak of it, my queen,” the demoness answered. “The emperor is very concerned. Although I believe it will all be well in the end.”

Once they were before the door, she knocked lightly.

“Who calls?” yelled Luo Binghe from inside. His voice was strained with aggression. 

“It’s Chu Hua, my lord. Your guests are here,” answered the demoness, nearly whispering against the door.

“Is there anyone else with you? Anyone nearby?”

“No, my lord. I have restricted access to the entire floor. Nobody will walk by unless you call for them specifically, as instructed.”

“Send them in and wait outside. The Empress will call for you if you’re needed.”

Chu Hua opened the door and invited Mobei Jun and Shang Qinghua to enter.

Shang Qinghua walked in full of apprehensions; he clutched Mobei Jun’s hand. He had been reminiscing about his past life; the whole waking up and rushing over to a sick relative was nothing new to him. He had gone through it with his ill grandma, and it hadn’t been pretty. He dreaded what he’d find inside.

However, the sight that greeted them was nothing unusual; Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu seemed to be perfectly fine.

Shang Qinghua scanned his bro’s face with a sharp eye, fishing for anomalies. Despite his overall regular countenance, he looked tired. Very tired. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his cheekbones were slightly more noticeable than usual. It was evident he had lost some weight.

He was resting in a wide armchair, hands crossed on his lap. Standing next to him, Luo Binghe fanned him gently, as if Shen Qingqiu were too weak to hoist his emblematic weapon of choice himself.

“Thank you for coming so soon,” said Luo Binghe, bowing his head lightly. Shen Qingqiu only smiled and feebly raised one of his hands in greeting.

“Congratulations on your bonding,” he said apologetically in a faint tone. “I’m so very sorry to interrupt your honeymoon with our business, but–,”

“Spare us the pleasantries, shixiong; we’re here to help. What’s going on with you?” interrupted Shang Qinghua.

Mobei Jun’s ears suddenly perked up as his blue eyes fixed on the Empress.

“Oh,” he muttered. Shang Qinghua turned his head and stared at him inquisitively.

“Oh what? What is it?”

Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu exchanged a look. 

“It’s hard to explain,” Luo Binghe said, shaking his head. “We'd better just show you. Mobei Jun, queen Shang, needless to say, what you are about to see must remain in the strictest secrecy.”

“Of course, Binghe.”

“Absolutely, my lord.”

Luo Binghe nodded and assisted his wife as he struggled to stand up. Shen Qingqiu did so with great effort, clutching his husband’s arms. Luo Binghe held his back and waist with both arms, to help him keep balance. 

Shen Qingqiu sighed, panted to catch his breath, and slowly untied the three layers of loose outer robes he was wearing.

Once he removed everything but his inner robes, he pressed the fabric against his stomach to reveal a protrusive bulge, very noticeable given his thin frame.

Shang Qinghua frowned, worried. He wasn’t well-versed in medicine so he couldn’t recall what illnesses could cause such inflammation. Best case scenario, Shen Qingqiu had developed something like irritable bowel syndrome, or maybe an acute intolerance to some kind of food; he could only hope it wasn’t something grimmer, like a stomach tumor.

“Okay, okay, don’t panic, I’m sure we’ll figure out what it is,” he said, doing his best to sound serene and encouraging. “Maybe it’s nothing serious. We’ll call for Mu Qingfang and–”

He stopped talking when he realized Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu were staring at him with a bewildered look on their faces.

“What?” Shang Qinghua asked, confused.

Mobei Jun leaned down and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Qinghua, it has spiritual energy,” he said gently.

Shang Qinghua blinked, still in the dark.

“The lump?”

Mobei Jun nodded with a smile full of meaning. Shang Qinghua frowned.

“So it’s a condensation of spiritual energy?” he deduced. “Then maybe his meridians are blocked; that shouldn’t be too hard to fix.”

Before Mobei Jun could answer, Shen Qingqiu sighed and extended his hand, gesturing for Shang Qinghua to go to him. 

Once he was close enough, Shen Qingqiu surprisingly grabbed his hand and pressed it against his stomach.

Shang Qinghua paled. He fixed his eyes on the swelling below his hand. It felt… alive. It moved. It was freakin’ moving!

No fucking way. 

A new possibility popped into his brain, but he immediately pushed it back. It simply couldn’t be. As if it had perceived his hesitation, the thing lurking within Shen Qingqiu’s insides propelled itself against the precise spot below Shang Qinghua’s hand.

“It– it kicked,” he stuttered, his brain imploding. He noticed a soft but firm palpitation against his palm. “It’s… pulsating.”

“It’s his heartbeat,” corrected Shen Qingqiu in a weak voice.

“...his?”

Shen Qingqiu nodded gravely, raising his eyebrows as he looked at him. Shang Qinghua yelped and quickly withdrew his hand, as if Cucumber bro’s belly was a hot potato.

“I– I can’t– I– don’t understand,” he stammered, eyes open like plates. “How on Earth– how did this happen? You’re a man!”

“I don’t know either,” Shen Qingqiu said, sitting back on his chair with Luo Binghe’s help. “We’re still coming to terms with it. I had my suspicions, but I shrugged them off because it was… well, insane. Only a few days ago, it grew strong enough for us to feel his heartbeat. There was no mistaking it then.”

“Are you sure it’s a boy?” asked Mobei Jun, smiling. Shang Qinghua stared at him in disbelief; how could he focus on that of all things? He was in front of a pregnant man, for crying out loud!

“The yang energy is very powerful,” answered Luo Binghe, gently placing his hand on Shen Qingqiu’s abdomen. “Look. It also reacts strongly to my own energy when I project it onto my wife. He’s certainly a boy.”

“And a protective one at that,” chuckled Mobei Jun, watching the lump squirm under Luo Binghe’s palm. “He’s gonna compete with you for his mother’s attention.”

“May we please focus on the problem at hand?” exclaimed Shang Qinghua, bewildered by that bizarre, baby-shower-worthy conversation. “The mother is a man! This is unprecedented. He needs medical attention! Urgently! I mean– how is the baby even supposed to come out of there?”

Shang Qinghua pressed his temples, trying for dear life to avoid thinking about the infamous, very graphic Chestburster scene from Alien.

“I want Mu Qingfan to treat me, but that’s entirely too risky,” said Shen Qingqiu, also doing his best to push back the Alien scene from his head. “If word gets around that I am unwell, the entire Cang Qiong Mountain will demand explanations.”

“And as soon as he gets wind of it, that dog will come crashing through our walls again in no time and try to take my wife away,” grumbled Luo Binghe, recalling Liu Qingge’s usual modus operandi every time he visited the palace. “I want nothing to stress Shizun even further.”

“Well, you certainly can’t just send for the physician,”  observed Mobei Jun. “I doubt he’d cooperate, given your little kidnapping stunt back in the day.”

“I had no choice then,” pouted Luo Binghe.

“I recall presenting you with at least fifteen different alternatives,” jabbed Mobei Jun, with a sarcastic smirk.

“Do you always have to remember every little thing?” groaned Luo Binghe, shaking his hand dismissively. “The point is, we can’t take Shizun to Cang Qiong Mountain nor summon Mu Qingfan here without people finding out.”

Shang Qinghua’s brain was working at full speed. Only a short month of vacation hadn’t been enough to disconnect him from his old logistical instincts.

“We should take Shen-shixiong back to our palace in secret,” he suggested. “We tell Cang Qiong Mountain I'm the one who is sick, and call for Mu-shidi. He won’t mind coming. He already visited to treat the cold I got after our wedding night.”

Shen Qingqiu raised his eyebrows and eyed him inquisitively, avid for deets even in his critical state. Shang Qinghua noticed and promptly dismissed him with their trademark “We’ll talk about it later” look.

“We should send Yue Qingyuan a private message,” pointed Shen Qingqiu, clearing his throat. “I think he needs to know about this. He’ll be discreet. We’ll need his help after all. We can’t stage an entire undercover operation whenever I need Mu-shidi’s assistance.”

“Can you get a room ready for us?” Luo Binghe asked Mobei Jun.

“There are plenty of spare rooms in the palace,” answered the demon, raising an eyebrow.

“I meant a room with more furniture than a cot and a bench.”

“Uhm…”

“Can you get a room ready for us?” Luo Binghe asked Shang Qinghua.

“My old room has a fireplace, I’ll have a decently-sized bed moved in and arrange for it to be ready to host a delicate patient. It should be done by the end of the day. You two can rest in our own chambers until then.”

“You’re lucky he accepted you,” teased Luo Binghe, punching Mobei Jun’s arm. The demon took the friendly hit and smiled.

“You can say that again.”

“Nonsense, nonsense,” said Shang Qinghua, brushing them off to hide his blushing at the unexpected compliments. “You two better check in with Sha Hualing and get things in order so lord Luo can leave imperial business unattended for a little longer. Shen-shixiong and I will arrange the details of your stay in our kingdom.”

Shang Qinghua unconsciously projected a vivid commanding quality when he got into business mode, which prompted people to follow his lead. Luo Binghe and Mobei Jun complied obediently and left the room.

As soon as they were alone, Shang Qinghua threw his composed stance out the window and flung himself to Shen Qingqiu.

“Broooo!” he whined, grabbing his shoulders. “What the fuck!” 

“Dude, I’m freaking out,” was Cucumber bro’s desperate answer.

“No shit! I can’t believe this is happening. I mean, I knew something was up with you, but never in a million years–”

“It’s growing so fast, I’m so fucking scared–”

“Bro, you’re fucking preggo!”

“This is a nightmare, I can’t–”

“Wait! Wait. Let’s take a couple of deep breaths and calm the fuck down before we both qi deviate,” Shang Qinghua said, dragging a chair. He sat a couple of inches away from Shen Qingqiu.

“Okay, bro. Breathe in…”

“Breathe out.”

They spent a couple of minutes doing breathing exercises and stabilizing their spiritual flow, until they were able to form coherent sentences again. However, the brief moment of panic had drained Shen Qingqiu’s already depleted energy. He slumped in his armchair, holding his head with one hand.

“Let’s talk through this,” suggested Shang Qinghua, fetching some paper to take notes. He crossed his legs on the chair with the air of a honed psychologist. “We better write down anything that might be useful for Mu Qingfang later. How far along are you?”

“I’m not sure. I can’t tell which symptoms were related to this. I thought I was stress-eating because of the wedding, but now I think it was the– the–” he couldn’t say pregnancy. “This thing.”

“It’s not a bad reference point. If we consider the time you first started behaving weirdly, that would give us about three months, give or take,” said Shang Qinghua, writing down an estimated date. “No, this can’t be right. It’s way too little time. That baby’s already kicking and swimming around in there.”

Shen Qingqiu shivered.

“Who knows what’s right or wrong? We can’t take normal human pregnancies as a reference. This is a demon’s offspring, and Luo Binghe’s at that!” he said, shaking his head with desolation. “For all we know, it could explode out of my guts by tea time.”

“Let’s not think about things exploding,” Shang Qinghua said gently, changing the topic. “How did you realize you were… you know?”

“It was a moment taken straight out of a nightmare,” muttered Shen Qingqiu, gaze lost on the horizon. “I noticed I was bulking up, but I didn’t think much of it, until one day I felt something weird.”

“Something weird? Tell me about it. I’ll write it down as a symptom.”

“It was mild stomach pain. I thought I was constipated or about to shit myself; I had never had stomach cramps since I transmigrated into this body. But then it… moved,” Shen Qingqiu recalled, wincing. “I took off my robes and went to the nearest mirror. I stood sideways and… you know that stupid scene in Twilight when the girl looks at herself in the mirror and just knows she’s pregnant? And you think well, that’s bullshit, that girl is as thin as a stick. Well, it was like that for me, with the only difference being that the thing chose that exact moment to start kicking the crap out of me, and I blacked out on the spot.”

"Life is such a bitch,” philosophized Shang Qinghua, shaking his head in wonder. “One day, you think you have your shit together, and the next day you find yourself empathizing with the Twilight chick."

“Binghe found me unconscious on the floor. When I woke up I was in bed, and he was weeping beside me, holding my hand,” Shen Qingqiu continued. “He had figured it out on his own while I was out. He had examined me and had… interacted with it.”

“How does he feel about this?” slowly asked Shang Qinghua.

“I’m not sure. I don’t think even he knows. At the moment, he’s just too scared about what might happen to me. And I’m the same. I can’t process it. I don’t know how it happened. I don’t know how it’s gonna get out of me, for fuck’s sake!”

“This is so surreal,” sighed Shang Qinghua, feeling his brain couldn’t keep up with the bizarre narrative. "If only we could return to the modern world for a while. We could binge a couple of mpreg novels and see how they describe the birth business."

"It wouldn't help at all. I've read my fair share back in the day, and not a single one of them mentions the details. They all conveniently jump from labor to spontaneous baby."

"Why would you read that stuff?" Exclaimed Shang Qinghua, amused despite the dire situation.

"I was curious, okay?” answered Shen Qingqiu, shrugging. “It's an unusual concept. I wanted to see how it could happen from a scientific point of view. But people don't give a shit about it. They want to read the raw details of the baby-making process and then gush over the newborn and the devoted parents playing house. The nasty parts of the deal are a total turnoff, I guess."

Shang Qinghua tried to say something, but Shen Qingqiu got caught in his old hater dweeb ways and began ranting about crappy mpreg manhuas.

"The closest a comic got to the point was this one fan-made Omegaverse manhua I read that mentioned a c-section, but then had the Omega guy push. How inaccurate and idiotic is that? Why the fuck would someone push during a c-section? Why would the patient even be awake during it? Biology doesn't work that way!"

"Cucumber bro, given our current circumstances, I think we should stop considering how Biology works at all,” declared Shang Qinghua. “Our best medical references come from Omegaverse webtoons, man.”

“Our best shot are the scrapped ideas of Proud Immortal Demon Way,” retorted Shen Qingqiu. “Did you write anything remotely related to male pregnancies? Because if you did, maybe it’s affecting reality, just like it happened with the discarded plot line of Tianlang Jun.”

“Not at all. I actually did some test drives, you know? To check the readers’ reactions to potential pregnancy and baby–related arcs. I made a fake account and published a couple of ficlets.”

“I didn’t know those existed,” said Shen Qingqiu, interest piqued despite himself. He grieved a little bit, deep down his heart, for those additional, extremely rare alternate stories he’d never get to read.

“They were wildly unpopular,” declared Shang Qinghua, shrugging. “Readers hated the whole concept. They wanted to see Bing-ge making babies, not attending births or changing poopy diapers. So I never squeezed those scenes into the main novel. I just mentioned he fucked a lot, got a collection of children, and that was that.”

“Damn. That was my one hope to make some sense out of this.”

“If I had to make a guess, I’d say this reeks of the System,” said Shang Qinghua, lost in thought. “Even in this world, I have never heard of male pregnancies. You are the demon lore master. Have you ever read something about it?”

Shen Qingqiu squeezed his brains, going through his abundant knowledge of useless data.

After thinking for a good while, he paled and snapped his fingers.

“There was this one mention of the capabilities of Heavenly Demon blood,” he said, agitated. “It said there had been isolated cases where it could cure female infertility.”

“It’s a long shot, but I can totally buy the System would take that itty bitty speck of possibility and use it to bend reality, if it meant it would please Binghe,” Shang Qinghua said, excited about the breakthrough. “Has he ever said he wanted children?”

Shen Qingqiu stared at him, both shocked and horrified.

“Actually, yeah. We’ve talked about families before. And then I said–'' he paled, realization dawning on him. “I said I felt bad, because Binghe would never have a child as long as he stayed with me. I mentioned how I had heard the palace officials discussing bringing in concubines.”

“Concubines? Are you kidding me?” exclaimed Shang Qinghua, astonished by the audacity. 

“It’s not uncommon in the demon realm, and Binghe is an emperor. Of course they’ll start pushing for an heir sooner or later, and concubines are the one solution to the male Empress issue,” said Shen Qingqiu, a hint of bitterness in his voice.

“What did Binghe say?”

“He got deadly pissed. He promised he’d handle it as soon as we got back. He said that it was a non-issue; no matter how much he’d like to be a father, if he can’t have children with me, then he won’t have children at all.”

“And the System heard,” concluded Shang Qinghua, pressing his temples. “I don’t have proof, but neither doubt. I’m certain that is how this happened. Fucking twisted, sadistic AI! Why not just, like, contemplate adoption or something? No, let’s stick a fetus into a dude! That’ll be funnier.”

“This sucks. Most of it we can’t tell Mu-shidi. We’ll have to make do with the snippet about the Heavenly Demon blood.”

They stayed silent for a while, both lost in thought. Shen Qingqiu broke the silence first.

“Qinghua, I’m scared,” he said, eyes watering up. “What if this kills me? I’m so afraid of what Binghe might do if I’m not around. You don’t know what state he was in during those five years I was gone.”

Shang Qinghua gave him a look full of pity. He took Cucumber bro’s hands between his own and patted them encouragingly.

“Don’t think such grim things, man. It’s not like you’re destitute. We’ll do whatever we can and use all the resources available to figure this out. For all we know, we’re in for a happy ending. If all goes well, there’ll be a brand-new baby. Isn’t that nice, despite everything?”

Shen Qingqiu considered it for a long time.

“I hadn’t thought about it that way,” he admitted, rubbing his stomach with both hands. “There is a little someone in progress inside here, isn’t it?”

Shang Qinghua smiled and nodded. That was the right angle to tackle the problem, he thought. It was the first time Cucumber bro referred to the baby as a potential someone instead of any synonym of hellish parasite of doom. It was good enough, if it meant some peace of mind for him.

“It’s not so bad, right?”

“I don’t know, I really don’t feel any attachment to it yet,” confessed Shen Qingqiu, guilt in his voice. “I’ve always known I’d like to have kids one day, but I never considered actually having them myself. This is so weird.”

“We’ll figure it out, one step at a time. Uncle Qinghua is here to take care of both of you,” he joked, standing up and posing like a superhero. Shen Qingqiu nearly had an aneurysm on the spot. “For starters, let’s pack your shit. I hope you have some sturdy winter clothes because your ass will freeze.”

“Speaking of frozen asses…”

“Dude. Now’s not the time,” warned Shang Qinghua, guessing the turn the conversation was about to take.

“That cold you said you got on your wedding night…”

Shang Qinghua groaned. He’d better give the dweeb a little something, or he’d bust his balls all day.

“Here’s some demonic lore for your collection,” he said begrudgingly. “You know how humans get all hot and steamy when they get busy ?”

Shen Qinqgiu nodded, interested.

“Well, turns out ice demons' temperature drops. Like, a lot,” he said, shivering at the memory. “I’m getting colds every forty-eight hours. I’m a Valentine’s Day date away from shitting icicles.”

Shen Qingqiu blinked and then roared in laughter until tears came down his eyes. 

“I’m glad my intimate struggles amuse you,” Shang Qinghua said, huffing.

“Not only me,” answered Shen Qingqiu, wiping his eyes with a sleeve. “Give me your hand.”

He pressed Shang Qinghua’s hand against his abdomen. The little imp kicked and moved around so much it was nearly comical.

“Is he doing an Irish dance in there or what?”

“I think he likes you.”

“I’m honored.”

“You should be. His own father seems to irritate him.”

“Well, we might be walking in the dark here, but at least we know one thing for sure,” declared Shang Qinghua with a smirk. “Kid’s got good taste.”

Chapter Text

“Your patient is not Shang-shidi. Extreme discretion is crucial. I have been informed of everything you shall witness today. Take as much time as needed.”

 

Mu Qingfang read Yue Qingyuan’s cryptic little note for the hundredth time since he got in the carriage that took him to the Northern kingdom of the demon realm.

The Sect Leader had discreetly handed him the piece of paper before he departed, with the strict order of opening it only when he was well on his way to Mobei Jun’s palace.

Once he arrived at his destination, a delicate demoness greeted him.

“Welcome to the Northern Palace, master Mu,” the girl said, bowing politely. “If you please, I shall take you to the Queen now.”

Mu Qingfang nodded in silence. Hearing people call Shang Qinghua a queen was outlandish, but he suspected it would not be the most bizarre episode of the day. He followed the pretty attendant full of apprehensions.

Yue Qingyuan’s note had warned him that his patient was somebody else; something grave must have happened to someone of relevance if the sect master had been so inclined to secrecy. He had even made up an official version he fed to the peak lords when they inquired about Mu Qingfang’s sudden trip to the demon realm.

He didn’t have enough time to ponder further. The demoness stopped before an austere door in an old, deserted ward that by all means looked like it used to host servants.

Mu Qingfang was baffled. His prime suspect patient was king Mobei Jun himself. Who awaited inside such humble quarters?

“Your Highness, the master physician is here,” announced the girl, lightly knocking on the door.

“Send him in and wait outside, Xin Yi.”

Mu Qinfang walked in.

He found himself in an unassuming room, small but well-furnished, and distinctly cozy and warm in contrast with the rest of the chilly palace. A hearty fire blazed on a stone hearth, faintly lighting up the dark room.

Shang Qinghua walked to him with an apologetic smile.

“Welcome, Mu-shidi,” he said cordially. “Thank you for coming. I hope you traveled comfortably.”

“I did, thank you,” said Mu Qingfang, forcing a polite smile. Mobei Jun stood behind Shang Qinghua, arms crossed and expression vacant as always. His only greeting was a quick nod. He seemed tense, eyes fixed on a nearby divan placed directly in front of the roaring fire.

He looked healthy enough. The medic felt at a loss.

“Shang-shixiong, Zhangmen-shixiong already told me I’m not here to tend to you. Would you kindly enlighten me? Why am I needed?” he asked, unwilling to waste time on small talk or formal pleasantries. 

“Well…” started Shang Qinghua, his eyes quickly darting in the direction of the same spot Mobei Jun glared at.

Mu Qingfang picked on the fleeting gaze and stared sharply at the high back of the seat. A third figure stood up and revealed itself. It had been crouching behind the divan like a dog, concealing its presence.

“Luo Binghe,” muttered Mu Qingfang, squinting with distrust. No wonder he had been lured there under false pretenses. 

“Mu… shishu, ” greeted the emperor, with the unfriendliest demeanor. Mu Qingfang crossed his hands within his long sleeves in a dignified manner.

“I do hope that His Highness understands someday that he doesn’t always need to resort to schemes to request my assistance,” he declared coldly, not even trying to hide the irritation in his voice.

“Save your breath. You’re not here to see me,” rudely retorted Luo Binghe.

“Binghe! Mind your manners!”

Mu Qingfang was greatly startled. He rapidly circled the divan and contained a gasp.

“Shen-shixiong,” he said, slowly. “I didn’t feel your presence.”

It was not surprising Shen Qingqiu had gone unnoticed. He was visibly weak and consumed, to the point where his vital spiritual energy was nearly depleted.

Mu Qingfang went straight to the point.

“How long has he been like this?” he asked sharply, taking Shen Qingqiu’s pulse. 

The man was so frail he whimpered in pain when Mu Qingfang pressed his wrist, trying to spot the feeble pulsations. Luo Binghe reacted instantly, baring his fangs and growling at the physician.

Mobei Jun immediately got to him in three stomping strides and held him back with both arms.

“We talked about this,” he scolded sternly. “We understand, but if you don’t behave yourself, I’ll take you away.”

“He hurt him,” seethed Luo Binghe, voice strangely hoarse. He grew agitated.

“That’s it. We’re leaving until you cool down. Come on,” ordered Mobei Jun, nearly dragging Luo Binghe outside.

Shang Qinghua waited until the door was safely closed to release a deep sigh and press his temples.

“My apologies, Mu-shidi, he can’t help it. He’s gotten protective of Shen-shixiong to an almost instinctual level.”

“His behavior is of no consequence,” drily replied Mu Qingfang, focused on analyzing Shen Qingqiu’s pulse. “Once again, how long has he been like this?”

“Only a day and a half. He was in decent shape not long ago. He began deteriorating shortly after we sent Zhangmen-shixiong a message requesting your help. Mu-shidi, truth is–”

“He got into such poor condition in less than two days?," exclaimed Mu Qingfang, alarmed. "His spiritual energy is convoluted and… yes, this is a clear case of core corruption,” he diagnosed, staring at the reddish, blurry pupils of Shen Qingqiu’s eyes. “There’s demonic energy disrupting his meridians from inside.”

“Mu-shidi…” began Shen Qingqiu, with a shaky voice.

“Keep quiet. Every effort will worsen your state, even speaking,” declared the medic. He pressed his palm against Shen Qingqiu’s back. “Stay still. I will try to trigger a flow of energy circulation to unblock your upper meridians and stabilize your core so I can properly check you–”

“Mu-shidi, don’t–!”

The second Mu Qingfang pulsed the first flow of spiritual energy into Shen Qingqiu, a powerful reactive force discharged a burst of demonic qi so potent that the medic was propelled away.

Shang Qinghua jumped to him and managed to catch him just before he landed on the fireplace.

“What on Earth was that,” muttered Mu Qingfang, eyes wide open. His palm was scorched as if he had burnt his hand with scolding steam.

“He rejected you,” was Shen Qingqiu’s sickly answer. “He rejects everyone but Shang-shidi.”

“He?” exclaimed Mu Qingfang, confused beyond words.

Too weakened by the energy blast to explain further, Shen Qingqiu pulled the bottom half of his robes aside.

Mu Qingfang felt his brain freeze and his heart skip a beat or two at the sight of what unequivocally looked like a pregnant belly.

Chapter Text

Shang Qinghua had to admit it: he had never thought much of Mu Qingfang. 

In his eyes, the physician was just another name in the Peak Lord roster, the meds guy who always distributed the exact number of medicinal packets every fortnight and refused to provide more, no matter how destructive Bai Zhan Peak’s mood had been that month. 

If anything, Shang Qinghua considered him a tad too conceited and set in his ways. He minded his own business and his business alone; he probably didn’t have the imagination to care beyond his pills and concoctions. That was probably why he was rarely sent on field missions.

As things were, Shang Qinghua thought, he had grossly underestimated him.

After nearly being thrown into a fire, Mu Qingfang accepted the fact that Shen Qingqiu was pregnant in two and a half seconds, quickly healed his burnt palm, rolled up his sleeves, and sprang into action with authentic fierceness.

“I need to stabilize Shen-shixiong’s core immediately, or it will consume itself,” he said, removing Shen Qingqiu’s inner robes to expose his chest and lower half. A fiery, pulsating crimson mark covered most of the bulge in his abdomen and quickly ramified to his chest and back.

Mu Qingfang extended his index finger and concentrated a small charge of energy in the tip. He carefully moved it closer to Shen Qingqiu.

The mark glowed darker, and the offspring inside began kicking more and more manically the closer Mu Qingfang’s finger got to Shen Qingqiu’s skin. 

“The child rejects Yang energy,” he deduced, withdrawing. “Its demonic influence is the source of the core corruption; it’s impossible to extirpate nor offset it, so I need Shen-shixiong to receive an additional inflow of Yin energy to counterbalance the effect.”

“ Additional Yin energy?” whelped Shang Qinghua. “But… Shen-shixiong is a man!”

“Gender is irrelevant; absolutely associating it with the kind of spiritual energy that flows in the body is an inaccurate concept,” answered Mu Qingfang with impatience, giving Shang Qinghua a look that screamed, "Even junior apprentices know this!” 

“But– where are we going to find someone with dominant Yin energy? The child rejected both his father and Mobei Jun–”

He interrupted himself, realization dawning on him.

“He likes me !” he yelped, jumping on the spot. “Mu-shidi, do I have Yin energy too?”

Mu Qingfang placed a hand on Shang Qinghua’s chest, closed his eyes, and examined his meridians.

“You do,” he confirmed almost immediately, grabbing Shang Qinghua’s hand and pushing it against Shen Qingqiu’s abdomen. “Shixiong, are you still awake?” he checked, carefully avoiding physical contact. 

Shen Qingqiu made a groggy humming noise. He was about to black out.

“Quickly, project your energy into him, not too much at first. You need to increase the inflow gradually. Do it now,” ordered Mu Qingfang.

Shang Qinghua swallowed hard, closed his eyes to focus, and did as he was told. He cursed himself and his lack of interest in cultivation. He should have worked harder to at least achieve mid-core formation.

As weak as his spiritual power was, the effects were immediate; the frenzied ramifications of the mark in Shen Qingqiu’s belly began to recede slowly. The stirring below also subsided, if not entirely.

“It’s working,” muttered Mu Qingfang. “It’s as I thought. The child’s Yang is so strong it’s barely complemented and soothed by Shen-shixiong’s Yin. Any further Yang influence would affect shixiong negatively.”

“Like an overdose?” asked Shang Qinghua, palms shaking as the little one gently squirmed against his hands.

“Plainly said, yes. That’s why he’s been keeping them at bay, his father especially. I dare say Luo Binghe won’t be able to see much of his Empress until the little prince arrives.”

Shang Qinghua gave Mu Qingfang a bewildered look. Wasn’t he enjoying this a little too much? His eyes were sparkling with inquisitiveness. He felt that given the chance, he’d tie Cucumber bro to a dissecting table to scalpel away the novelty before him.

“Focus, you need to increase the inflow,” Mu Qingfang warned, stepping back a bit more to avoid spoiling the procedure with his own influx.

“I can’t intensify it,” panted Shang Qinghua, beginning to feel depleted himself. “This is as far as I can go! What should we do?”

Mu Qingfang tugged his endless braid with both hands, wracking his brain for a solution. The child would never calm down at this rate; he had been subjected to the continuous presence of two highly dominant demons and an entire palace that reeked of Yang. They needed an inflow potent enough not only to nullify the demonic energy of the baby, but also to purify Shen Qingqiu’s corrupt meridians. The process would have to be performed regularly and intensely. Shang Qinghua’s feeble spiritual attributes would never do the job properly.

“Wait,” he said, clustering a strong flow of energy into his palms, “Shang-shixiong, no matter what, don’t interrupt the connection. I apologize if this stings a bit.”

He pressed both his palms against Shang Qinghua’s back and released the energy he had accumulated. Shang Qinghua whined loudly, taken by surprise; the sudden inpouring burned, and he could feel every bit of the unsettling inrush quickly spanning through his meridians.

“You can’t do that!” he yelled, panicked. “It will kill him!”

“Not with the right filter,” Mu Qingfang grumbled, sending as much energy as he could through Shan Qinghua.

After a few tortuous minutes that felt like an eternity, the fiery mark in Shen Qingqiu’s abdomen faded entirely, and the frantic kicks and movements within him stopped.

Shen Qingqiu sighed deeply, closed his eyes, and drifted away into a peaceful slumber, exhausted.

Mu Qingfang retreated his hands and sat down on the floor, wasted; he had drained himself of energy, but he was exceptionally pleased with the results of his emergency experiment.

“It’s fine,” he huffed, smiling for the first time since his arrival. “You can let go now.”

Shang Qinghua carefully moved away and dropped himself into a nearby tool, trembling with fatigue. His entire body ached.

“You scared the sh– scared me senseless back there,” he reproached Mu Qingfang. “What on Earth did you do?”

“Roughly said, I couldn’t use my own, pure energy on shixiong, so I used you as a conversion instrument ,” he explained, unrolling his sleeves. “I fueled you, so to speak. My energy inflow was automatically adopted by your body and turned into your dominant spiritual element. It’s a natural process. Shen-shixiong’s body is unable to do it at the moment, as he is hosting two complementing kinds of energy simultaneously.”

“Whatever you say,” Shang Qinghua wheezed. “Just… you explain it to the father.”

Arms tightly crossed, Luo Binghe stiffly heard Mu Qingfang’s diagnosis and complex explanations without making a sound. He had a dark expression and a heavy heart.

He was exiled to the furthest corner of the palace, his wife isolated from him by medical prescription, and followed closely by Mobei Jun’s vigilant gaze as if he were a rabid dog that could go berserk at any time.

Which he actually was, no matter how much he hated to admit it.

Emperor of the demon realm and all, he had always been more in touch with his human half than his demonic heritage. He had invariably felt foreign to his kind; what others learned naturally from childhood, he had to be taught as an adult.  

By the time he came to his powers, he had spent the largest portion of his life making snacks for Shen Qingqiu. His Shizun and the Bamboo House, his shidi and shimei, the pleasant days spent in effortless missions, that had been his whole world and his identity. It wasn’t easy for him to accept himself as a halfling. 

He had the cultural knowledge; there was nothing he couldn’t master, after all. He learned and mimicked demonic behaviors, but he didn’t fully understand them or share them. He horsed around roughly with Mobei Jun because he knew that’s how demons expressed affection, but he himself naturally gravitated towards the tenderness of humans.

No matter how violent he had gotten in the past, how deranged and irate, he had always retained a thread of sanity. Shizun had taught him many times how to use his humanity to tame his demonic impulses.

He was proud of that. Deep inside, he felt superior to his fellow demons. Where they caved to instinct, he always remained sane. He could master their ferocity and sharpen it with his own sound mind. 

Xin Mo’s retirement had freed him from the last remnants of demonic turmoil. He could fight and kill, but he never lost himself to the frenzy; he could be crushed with desire, but he’d never lose himself into a rut and abuse his wife into oblivion.

He was a human with a bit of a demon inside. That was his new identity. What held his mind together.

Until everything changed.

Since the moment he sensed the presence of the child within his wife’s body, he had been overpowered by an animalistic urge to protect them.

Jealous by nature, he was now obsessive in his guardianship; he wanted nobody around Shen Qingqiu, friend or foe; he was to be kept safe, nobody was allowed to lay a finger on him and his son. He barely tolerated Mobei Jun and Shang Qinghua’s presence, only because he constantly forced himself to remember that they needed their help.

But it was hard. Harder than anything he had been through before.

He saw himself growling and hissing and threatening and gravitating around his partner like a zealous beast. He couldn’t restrain himself. He couldn’t play the diplomat or even the crowned emperor. All he could do was protect his mate and his unborn offspring, without even fully processing what that really meant.

It was awful. And on top of everything, he was then being told that for Shen Qingqiu’s sake, he should stay as far away as possible.

“That’s not an option,” he declared, shaking his head and barely suppressing his indignation. “Find another way.”

“There is no other way,” replied Mu Qingfang, doing his best to keep calm and failing by the second.

“Then find it.”

“Didn’t the emperor order the same, when he expected this medic to bring back the dead? How did that turn out?” jabbed Mu Qingfang, frowning with irritation.

Luo Binghe snarled. Mobei Jun growled in stern warning behind him.

“What about the emergency procedure you performed before, Mu-shidi?” hurriedly asked Shang Qinghua, trying to diffuse the situation. “Maybe dominant Yang influences like lord Luo or my husband could be around Shen-shixiong, as long as a proper conversion instrument like me is nearby.”

Mu Qingfang’s first instinct was to stubbornly deny the motion just to cross Luo Binghe, but his scientific nature quickly won over his pettiness. It was too interesting an experiment to pass.

“It could work, I suppose, as long as the Yin influences are strong enough to tolerate the energy inflow. It could work, yes.”

“It has to, right? You said this energy exchange would have to become a regular practice to keep Shen-shixiong stable and the baby appeased.”

Mu Qingfang nodded, lost in thought. Shang Qinghua went into business mode and produced a small travel pocket planner out of his robe’s sleeve.

“We need to secure a group of strong Yin influences we can trust, people that would keep the secret until it’s safe to make a public announcement,” he said, enthusiastically. “Who do we know that could suitably aid the Empress?”

“Chu Hua we can trust,” suggested Mobei Jun. “And Yin Xi too. They are both loyal, reliable attendants and strong enough despite their looks.”

“That's two, and I’m three. Anyone else?”

“Sha Hualing has potent Yin energy. She could help my wife on her own; no need for outside enhancers,” said Luo Binghe, still reluctant to show himself too keen about the plan in front of Mu Qingfang.

“That makes four. That should suffice, right, Mu-shidi?”

“I don’t think so. Out of those four, only one can provide a healthy spiritual inflow without the aid of others. Shang-shixiong and the two demon girls will need external help. It would be wiser to add a second influence resilient enough to fend for themselves.”

“I can’t think of any other Yin demons or cultivators of our acquaintance,” said Luo Binghe, frowning.

Mu Qingfang smiled wryly. He was a wise man, a man of patience. A man who understood that every act has its fair consequences if only one is willing to wait long enough. A man who deeply disliked being manhandled and discredited in his craft, and who had never entirely forgiven the emperor for their convoluted shared past, wedding and all. 

“I happen to know of someone,” he said, with the most neutral expression. “An extremely powerful Yin cultivator, who has aided Shen-shixiong repeatedly in the past, and who has proven to have an uncommonly high level of compatibility with his spiritual flow. It would be an invaluable asset to secure the continued health of both mother and child.”

Shang Qinghua felt a shiver run down his spine. 

Fuck. He had truly, utterly underestimated Mu Qingfang in more ways than one. 

“Who is it?” asked Luo Binghe, intrigued. “Do you think they’d be willing to come to the demon realm?”

Mu Qingfang smiled.

“I’d dare say so,” he answered pleasantly. “After all, Liu-shidi hasn’t seen his dear Shen-shixiong since the wedding.”

Chapter Text

A whole month went by before Mu Qingfang was confident enough in the process they had developed.

Despite the success of their first emergency attempt, the medic knew that refining the method was crucial in order to achieve long-term effects. They couldn’t just wait until Shen Qingqiu was on the verge of death to jump-start him with an energy shot.

Luckily for them, Shen Qingqiu’s health had improved dramatically after the scare, so he was in better shape to tolerate the long series of experiments that Mu Qingfang had in line after conducting some research.

The first discovery he made was that the baby had different levels of tolerance for the diverse Yang influences that approached Shen Qingqiu.

Mu Qingfang could stay in the same room as him for an unlimited amount of time with no worse consequences than headaches and nausea. If Shen Qingqiu was stable, Mu Qingfang could even touch him, as long as Shang Qinghua was around to counterbalance the effect with his own energy. It was an improvement, and a big one at that; Mu Qingfang now knew how to operate in close proximity to his patient for future check-ups.

Mobei Jun was barely tolerated; Shen Qingqiu had to receive a constant flow of additional Yin to share a closed space with him without his belly turning into a battlefield. Mu Qingfang noticed that the bond between the ice demon and Shang Qinghua influenced the effects somehow; when they worked together, the baby seemed to be a little less fussy. However, Shang Qinghua’s limited spiritual flow couldn’t entirely counteract his husband’s powers. That presented Mu Qingfang with his first real challenge: Mobei Jun was the strongest source of spiritual fuel in the reduced cast; they needed to find a way to neutralize the Yang overflow in order for him to power up the weaker Yin donors.

That’s when Sha Hualing was summoned.

The demon saintess, often relegated to the shadows of the emperor and his favorites, was then given her long-due time to shine. 

Not only was she a valuable, self-sufficient source of rich Yin energy, she proved to be strong enough to neutralize Mobei Jun’s power surplus and reduce him into something akin to a rechargeable battery. Even if she was depleted after contributing her own energy and needed a rest, she could still nullify Mobei Jun enough for him to charge up Shang Qinghua, thus complying with the tyrannical requirements of the royal baby.

The same process could be replicated by replacing Shang Qinghua with Xin Yi or Chu Hua. Mu Qingfan was proud of his results, and everyone involved took their place in that cheerful energy-transfer mechanism with enthusiasm.

Everyone except Luo Binghe.

His Yang energy was too powerful to be counterbalanced; no matter how many combinations they tried, if he was around, the baby would act up so violently it would begin undermining Shen Qingqiu’s meridians and corroding his core.

It was a miracle the mother had survived until the child grew big enough to step up and kick his father to the curb.

They tried everything to no avail. During their last attempt, Shen Qingqiu waited for him inside a huge conference room with thick walls covered in soothing Yin talismans. Luo Binghe, restraining his powers as much as possible, tried to walk past the door while all the Yin staff directly channeled their energy into him, forming a bizarre human octopus.

The baby was not fooled. If anything, he got angrier by the audacity; the reactive tantrum was so fierce that Shen Qingqiu nearly blacked out and the entire crowd rushed in to aid him, leaving Luo Binghe alone outside.

Mu Qingfan had then sanctioned his final doctor’s orders: the father was banned from the picture until the birth. He comminated everyone in attendance to help comply with that directive.

It was a rough decree, but Shen Qingqiu’s state had plummeted so fast after the fiasco that it was impossible to do otherwise. Luo Binghe agreed to keep his distance, even when he was distraught and dejected to the point of tears.

Not allowed to even say goodbye to his convalescent wife, the Emperor quietly exiled himself back to his palace without even the company of his two trusted acolytes.

Despite himself, Mu Qingfang felt sorry for him. He was not without compassion, and even his petty heart ached a bit for a doting husband forced to be away from his pregnant wife, even if said husband was that rampant reprobate.

There was still one possibility, Mu Qingfang realized; his tiny act of revenge could actually prove to be a blessing. However, there was no way in hell he’d submit himself to suggest that to Luo Binghe.

He’d tell Shang Qinghua about it and let him handle that hot potato however he saw fit. 

That being decided, he returned to his chambers to dispatch an urgent request of summoning to Yue Qingyuan.

Liu Qingge followed the demoness attendant down the endless, chilly halls of the Northern palace with Yang Yixuan trotting in tow.

Both master and apprentice were nervous, each for different reasons.

Yang Yixuan was anxious to see Chu Hua again, with whom he had kept a copious clandestine correspondence since their first meeting in the Bamboo House. He was a young man caught in the intense flames of his first love; any other events lacked relevance. He simply had no space left in his heart or mind for much else. Once he was sworn into secrecy and told the news, he quickly made his peace with the whole hellspawn thing and focused on sneaking out of Bai Zhan Peak to get a new haircut before the trip to the demon realm.

Liu Qingge’s feelings were a bit more complicated, at least the meager ones he actually allowed himself to deal with.

The imperial wedding had been such a spectacular affair, so overflowing with public displays of affection, that he had finally let go of his last hopes and began making his peace with reality.

However, when Yue Qingyuan summoned him in private to disclose some highly confidential information, he inwardly stirred in anticipation. Maybe Shen Qingqiu had changed his mind after all.

What he heard next had shattered not only that faint iota of wishful thinking but also his entire worldview.

He could more or less have dealt with the ashes of his infatuation and the outlandish concept of a pregnant man if they had let him to his own resources. Maybe give him time to go slaughter a monster or three with his bare hands or rough up a dozen senior disciples. 

But no. Yue Qingyuan wanted him, and pretty much ordered him, to go to the demon realm and help, by Mu Qingfang’s medical recommendation.

For once in his life, the God of War hadn’t exploded in a furious rage. He had been bested by sheer incredulity. He simply blinked a couple of times, brain bland as a boiled potato, and nodded in silent agreement. He was so obviously shaken that Yue Qingyuan had appointed Yang Yixuan to keep an eye on him.

Liu Qingge had been in a confused daze throughout the entire trip to the demon realm and was still in a confused daze when Xin Yi stopped before a certain door and knocked. He was so out of it he didn’t even realize that most of the floors they had walked through were entirely deserted. Not a single demon had crossed their path.

“My queen, the Bai Zhan Peak lord and his head apprentice are here to see the Empress,” gently announced the lady-in-waiting.

“Let them in and join us too, Xin Yi,” said Shang Qinghua’s voice from inside.

Luo Qingge and Yang Yixuan stiffened and held their breath as the door opened.

The scene that unfolded before them seemed taken from a bad fever dream.

Shen Qingqiu was sitting in a true nest of fluffy cushions near the fireplace, sporting a belly so round and prominent that it escaped the many layers of outer robes. He held a huge platter between his hands, filled to the brim with a high pile of fruits and pastries. Sitting right behind him, Shang Qinghua had his hands pressed against Shen Qingqiu’s back, passing on a constant flow of energy. Mobei Jun followed, transmitting his own energy into Shang Qinghua. Sha Hualing closed the chain, the only one standing; she was sitting directly on Mobei Jun’s back, enclosing him in a barely visible bubble of spiritual energy.

It was a bizarre little living train that would haunt Liu Qingge’s nightmares forever.

“ ✿ Liu-shidi! ☺️ ”

Shen Qingqiu brightened up the moment Liu Qingge stepped into the room. His mouth was covered in crumbs and he held a half-eaten bun in one of his hands. He seemed to be in a brilliant mood and looked radiant, nothing like the grim picture Yue Qingyuan had painted back in Cang Qiong Mountain. Mu Qingfang was truly a miracle maker at times.

Shen Qingqiu quickly ate the rest of his pastry and spread his arms to Liu Qingge, still chewing. Liu Qingge went to him mechanically and stiffly bent down into the hug.

“I’m so happy to see you,” chimed Shen Qingqiu, patting his back. “It’s been so long. How are you doing?”

Seeing his Shizhun was unable to formulate words or sounds, Yang Yixuan stepped up and presented his greetings and congratulations to the expectant mother in the name of Bai Zhan Peak.

After exchanging a few pleasantries and accepting a lotus pastry, the youngster discreetly gestured at his master to follow his lead. Considering his official duty duly done, the boy rushed to Chu Hua’s side and engaged in an animated exchange of bashful whispers.

Liu Qingge took a single step forward and stopped in his tracks. His eyes went to Shen Qingqiu’s belly. He stared long and hard, struggling to accept that the plump shape belonged to the person attached to it.

“I don’t think he fully understands what he’s seeing,” whispered Shang Qinghua into Shen Qingqiu’s ear. He nodded.

“Give me your hand,” he said, grinning ear to ear. Liu Qingge was startled and hopped back. “Come on! He won’t bite. Yet. ”

Unable to conceal a disgusted wince, Liu Qingge crouched and reluctantly reached out. Shen Qingqiu grabbed his wrist and placed his palm firmly on his abdomen.

To Shen Qingqiu’s surprise, the little monster began kicking and squirming.

“Are you pulsing energy into me?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Why would I do that?” exclaimed Liu Qingge, frozen in place. The moving thing propelling itself onto his hand sent shivers of horror down his spine, but still, for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to move away.

“If you’re not stimulating him with energy, this means he simply likes you, Liu-shidi,” laughed Shen Qingqiu. “So far, he only reacts that way to Shang-shidi.”

“Treacherous little imp,” mumbled Shang Qinghua, pouting. “I thought I was the only one for him.”

“You are the only one for me ,” said Mobei Jun, kissing the top of his head.

“Meh, we’re bonded; liking me is mandatory for you,” his partner answered with a dejected frown. “What the lil’ prince and I had was special. Was. ”

“You better get used to it, lady queen, ” chimed in Sha Hualing with a sarcastic smirk. “I dare say the Emperor’s son will have plenty of special ones ready to fight to the death for his attention.”

“And if he’s anything like his father, he’ll imprint on one early and fixate on them for years,” added Mobei Jun, shaking his head.

“You’re one to talk, courtship master,” taunted the demoness, roughly kicking Mobei Jun’s ribs with her sharp heel.

Everyone laughed, and the child began moving with even more vigor, as if he wanted to be part of the merriment.

The domestic interspecies scene was finally too much for Liu Qingge to bear.

The dormant switch in his brain finally snapped. He abruptly yanked his hand away and fled towards the exit. Yang Yixuan yelped and sprinted behind him, barely managing to open the door before his Shizun crashed through it to escape.

Once he had put a decent distance between them and himself, Liu Qingge slowed down and wandered aimlessly around the deserted hallways. The palace was freezing, and he was thankful for that; the cold kept him alert and helped soothe the aching throb in his head.

He had felt Shen Qingqiu’s child . Not only the fluttery, bubble-like movements. He had sensed his energy. His dense, possessive demonic energy identical to that of his father. Shixiong had said the kid liked him; if anything, Liu Qingge thought it would be more accurate to say that the creature had been trying to pop out and murder him as his dad would.

“Oh. Great. You are here too now.”

Ugh. Speak of the devil. Liu Qingge frowned and unconsciously placed his hand on his sword. He was not in the mood for Luo Binghe’s nonsense.

And he seemed to be in a particularly nonsensical mood then; he was sitting alone in a dark hallway, eyes reddened and pouting like a child, who knows how many floors away from his wife and that other bunch of nobodies Liu Qingge couldn’t quite remember.

“I was summoned here,” declared Liu Qingge, tone strained. He was aching to blow some steam, but even in his deranged state of mind, he knew it would be a bad idea to provoke the demonic emperor. It could be dangerous for Shen Qingqiu and the parasite.

“I know you were,” was the impatient answer. “The medic said he’d send for you.”

There was a long silence. Liu Qingge couldn’t help but feel awkwardly out of place. Luo Binghe wasn’t even looking at him. He seemed defeated. His demonic aura, usually pungent as a putrid stench and impossible to miss, was so restrained it was almost imperceptible.

“What are you doing here?” finally asked Liu Qingge, against his better judgment. “Everyone is gathered in that tatty little room downstairs.”

“Nobody filled you in, I suppose?” said Luo Binghe, voice full of disdain. “Maybe they knew better than to waste their breath trying to explain complex theoretical concepts to a rabid dog.”

Liu Qingge felt his pulse shoot with anger. He had never been able to exchange more than three words with that bastard without ending in violence. He couldn’t for the life of him understand what Shen-shixiong saw in such a rotten scumbag.

He was trying to come up with an insulting comeback, but Luo Binghe didn’t give him the time. He sighed tiredly and pressed his temples.

“My spiritual energy hurts my wife,” he reluctantly explained. That dog was there to help, after all. It wouldn’t do to be overly rude, even if the idiot couldn’t probably comprehend his jabs. “The child reacts to it in a way that could harm them both. So I have to stay away.”

Liu Qingge tilted his head. He had been fed ammo and was not going to waste it.

“So, you’re saying your child hates you?” he deduced mercilessly. Luo Binghe glared murderously at him but didn’t deny it. It was too tempting, riling him up so easily, the mighty demon lord who liked to play smart and use big words to taunt decent cultivators into a rage. Liu Qingge couldn’t resist going a bit further. 

“The baby likes me ,” he announced with a hint of a triumphant smile on his lips.

Luo Binghe took the hit without grace. He groaned, rubbed his eyes and went back to his abandoned puppy position, legs tightly crossed and cheeks pressed between his hands.

“Of course he does,” he whined, upset in a way Liu Qingge had never seen in him. “He likes you, and he likes Shang Qinghua, and he likes Sha Hualing and the two maids, and he’s tolerant of Mobei Jun and even that damn doctor… but he hates me .”

Liu Qingge flinched. The whiny rant had taken him entirely off guard. He didn’t know what to do or what to say; he had little experience handling pathetic men with compassion. He began to retreat, but Luo Binghe wasn’t nearly done.

“I miss my wife, and now that the baby’s bigger, he’s not clingy anymore; he’s even more detached than when we first got together. All his energy is focused on the child, and everyone is touching his belly every day, and the little thing dances for them all every time!”

He sniffled and rested his chin against his crossed arms. His curly, wild hair covered his back and part of his face. He was progressively becoming a shapeless ball of fluff.

“Now’s not the time to be jealous. Are you serious?” scolded Liu Qingge, flabbergasted. “Are you truly jealous of your own son?”

“You’re as dense as a rock,” growled Luo Binghe, now hiding his entire face between his arms. “I’m not jealous of the baby. I’m jealous of everyone else. I’m even jealous of Shizun. I’m the father, and I’m the only one who can’t touch my wife’s belly and feel my child. He’s already bonding with everyone else. And I can’t even be in the same room as him.”

Liu Qingge blinked. Goodness, was he actually feeling sorry for that eyesore of a demon? He kicked the fleeting hint of compassion back. His mood grew even sourer.

“If you can’t be around them, what are you doing lurking around the palace from afar like a snake?” he seethed, crossing his arms in a dignified manner. “Have you no shame?”

“I can safely feel their energy from here,” mumbled Luo Binghe in the saddest tone. “Even if that’s all I can get, I’ll take it.”

“You’re the emperor of the demonic realm, and unless my memory fails me, also a proficient schemer,” said Liu Qingge, refusing to yield to his gentler side’s efforts to resurface. “Are you telling me you couldn’t find a way around this?”

“Not everyone can just crash and burn their way through every single problem, you know,” snarled Luo Binghe, irritated beyond measure. “I need a Yin influence potent enough to counterbalance my Yang for me to get close to them safely. And guess how many of those we have found yet?”

Liu Qingge blinked. He usually found himself in a strange position in which he saw how people unnecessarily complicated things that seemed, to him, painfully simple. It happened to him during each and every Peak Lord meeting, and it happened to him right then.

“Is that all?” he asked, frankly baffled. “I can do that. Isn’t that why they made me come here?”

Luo Binghe’s head rose and his crimson eyes fixated on the nonchalant man before him.

“What do you mean, you can do that? Not even my strongest acolyte has enough power to counterbalance me, and she’s a beast. You can’t even defeat me.”

“Who, that half-naked demoness? I can take her for sure. I may be unable to defeat you,” Liu  Qingge admitted, clenching his teeth. “But I can certainly put a leash on your useless surplus of energy, you unhinged little beast.”

“You don’t get to call me that; you’re the unhinged little beast,” childishly retorted Luo Binghe. “Are you absolutely sure you can do it?”

“You’re so infuriating,” groaned Liu Qingge, at the end of his wits. “Why would I say so if I wasn’t certain? What a waste of time and breath. You’re already repressing your power; all I have to do is nullify the remnant, you imbecile.”

Exhausted from chatting, Liu Qingge stomped towards Luo Binghe and roughly slapped his palm against the demon’s chest.

Luo Binghe’s first instinct was to bash him into oblivion, but a sudden flow of limpid, pure Yin energy encircled him like a bubble and seamlessly merged with his own. As he wasn’t resisting at all, he could clearly feel his convoluted spiritual flow soothe and mellow. It was a sensation eerily similar to what he felt every time Shen Qingqiu helped him heal wounds or recuperate after a long day of work.

He felt a knot of hope in his throat.

“Would you…” he began, clearing his throat with embarrassment. “Would you be willing to do this… in the room?”

“That’s what I’ve been saying, am I speaking in another language or what?”

“I mean, you’ll have to walk me there like this,” explained Luo Binghe, making a great effort to be polite. He adopted his best white lotus tone, straight from the archives of the old days when he still called Liu Qingge “Shishu.”

“All the way back there?!”

“The baby detects me even when I’m two floors away from them.”

“Two? How far are we?”

“This is the seventh floor; the nursery is on the first floor. Didn’t you walk here?” 

Liu Qingge didn’t say a word in response. For how long had he been wandering around?

“Seven floors and I didn’t run into anyone,” he finally realized, raising his eyebrows. “Doesn’t the king have any servants or soldiers?”

“That’s my fault,” admitted Luo Binghe, frowning. “I don’t… I don’t tolerate other demons around my family at the moment, so Mobei Jun removed everyone. I might have roughed up a few–”

“You’re such a mess!” interrupted Liu Qingge, exasperated. “You forced them all to stay here unguarded?!”

“I’m always around; that’s more than enough. Are you taking me there or not?”

“Ugh. Let’s get this over with,” mumbled Liu Qingge, already regretting his good impulses. “Seriously. I don’t understand how Shen-shixiong puts up with you.”

Luo Binghe smiled at him, probably for the first time in his life.

“Honestly? Neither do I. Lead the way… Liu-shishu.”

Chapter Text

Despite his exceptional ability to deceive and his well-deserved reputation as a cunning tactician, demon Emperor Luo Binghe was a simple person.

He hated and loved with everything he had; whatever he received, he’d retribute tenfold: affection, loathing, revenge, loyalty, gratitude, disrespect. It was a matter of principle for him and part of his nature.

He had repaid Liu Qingge’s poorly-concealed crush on Shen Qinqgiu with constant, open hostility. Every offense, every attempt to snatch his man away, every challenge against his authority had been met with increasing rage and brutality. During the lowest point in their convoluted relationship, Liu Qingge remained alive only because of Shen Qingqiu.

However, Destiny has a twisted sense of humor and tends to have fun tangling the threads of Fate. Most people suffer existential crises or undergo psychological trauma when the unpredictable ways of life force them to see someone they hate in a different light. They’d resist it, defy it, fight against it.

But not Luo Binghe. He was indeed a simple fellow.

When he reunited with the love of his life and felt his child move under his hands for the first time, all the dark feelings tied to Liu Qingge faded and died.

After twenty uninterrupted minutes of sensing his son wiggle about, he abruptly turned around and hugged Liu Qingge so hard his bones creaked. It took everything the warlord had to keep Luo Binghe’s energy in check while trying to squirm away from his arms before having a stroke.

A while ago, when Liu Qingge kicked the door open, nearly dragging a jittery Luo Binghe inside, almost everyone had suffered a heart attack.

Only Shen Qingqiu welcomed them with open arms. The second he realized that he still felt good even in such close proximity to his husband, he did the math and accepted the situation in the blink of an eye.

He gave Liu Qingge a grateful smile and urged Luo Binghe to place both hands on his belly at last.

“He’s moving,” the demon whispered, eyes wide open in wonder. “He’s moving so much. Does he always stir like this?”

“He’s very active, yes,” answered Shen Qingqiu, tenderly running his fingers through his husband’s wild hair. “He reacts differently to everyone. I think he’s getting to know you now that he doesn’t feel you as a threat.”

“Do you think he’ll grow to like me?”

“Haven’t we all?” teased Shen Qingqiu, smiling wickedly. “You know how to charm your way into people. Although I dare say you won’t be able to fool this little imp. He’ll make you work for it.”

“I hope he looks like you. With your eyes. And your grace.”

Liu Qingge shivered with sheer cringe. He rested his chin on his left hand while he kept his right palm firmly pressed against Luo Binghe’s back, restraining his Yang. His arm was fully extended in order to keep as much distance between them as possible.

His presence had not hindered the couple’s intimate moment in the slightest. They entertained that pointless, nauseating conversation for what felt like an eternity. They didn’t seem to remember that they were sharing the room with a number of people who were watching them closely, still uneasy about Liu Qingge’s effectiveness in keeping Luo Binghe under control.

“How are you feeling, shidi?” asked Shang Qinghua, frowning. “Is it not draining you out? You should take a break whenever you feel–”

“Save it; I’m fine,” rudely interrupted Liu Qingge. “They’re not done yet. Let them get it out of their system already.”

“We can hear you, you know,” said Shen Qingqiu, raising an eyebrow.

“So can I, and that’s not stopping you, isn’t it?” jabbed him. “Go on, pretend I’m not here. I’m certainly trying to.”

From that day on, another month went by; Liu Qingge was promoted from arch-nemesis-love-rival to Luo Binghe’s shadow. That change in dynamics resulted in two unexpected outcomes.

First, the raw overexposure to Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe’s daily endless sessions of lovey-dovey, intimate coddling murdered the last scraps of Liu Qingge’s infatuation for his shixiong. He came to see a whole new side of him, and goodness gracious, it made him sick. Whether Shen Qingqiu had always been that disgustingly touchy-feely and overindulgent or had turned that way after marriage, it gave Liu Qingge the creeps. He still respected and cared for the man, but now that he had gotten a taste of his tender side, he’d rather pass. He was not built to resist such a dense flow of sugar.

Second, the emperor was so out of himself with joy and gratitude that he declared Liu Qingge an honorary member of his personal cohort, right there next to Mobei Jun and Sha Hualing, and actually morphed into an adult, infinitely creepier version of the little white lotus disciple Liu Qingge had known when the demon still cultivated under Shen Qingqiu’s wing. 

Luo Binghe had a thick face and never had trouble expressing his feelings, so Liu Qingge found himself the target of an intense, insistent, sticky one-sided friendship with a person who had spent most of his adult life trying to kill him. 

He was not used to such informal camaraderie and tried to kick, punch and bite Luo Binghe away, but to his surprise, he learned that demons interpreted physical violence quite differently than humans. Not only was Luo Binghe undeterred in his befriending efforts, but the other two acolytes also witnessed their interactions and interpreted them as demons do. They welcomed Liu Qingge into their clan and began cheerfully roughing him up too. 

Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua did absolutely nothing to help. Delighted with the domestic chaos that surrounded them, they spent their days chatting, making plans for the nursery, and getting disgustingly pampered by their husbands. 

To make things worse, encouraged by the homely ambiance, Yang Yixuan and Shen Qingqiu’s demoness maid had felt comfortable enough to make their relationship public. Even Sha Hualing and Shang Qinghua’s lady-in-waiting indulged in casual flirting now and then.

Liu Qingge was at the end of his wits, suffocated by wave after wave of external sentiment. He was a fifth wheel in a palace full of lovey-dovey, chummy idiots.

Amicably manhandled and emotionally scarred to his very core, Liu Qingge was avid to return to the peaceful mayhem of Bai Zhan Peak. He needed to kill something soon, or he’d end up ending himself first.

“How long until the thing is born?” he had asked Mu Qingfang, rather desperately, during the latter’s last check-up visit. Luo Binghe had clung to his back to optimize the energy control process while Mu Qingfang worked, or so he had said; Liu Qingge suspected he simply enjoyed being perched on him like that, and the bastard was heavy for such a slender fellow.

“I’m quite certain that it won’t take longer than another fortnight,” declared the medic, putting away the true arsenal of medical instruments he had used to examine the mother-to-be.

“So little?” exclaimed Shen Qingqiu. “But– we haven’t picked a name yet.”

“ That is what worries you?” whined Shang Qinghua, pressing his temples. “You’re giving birth in two weeks! How is this possible, Mu-shidi? He’s only six months in or so.”

“Demon pregnancies are shorter than human’s gestation periods,” explained Mu Qingfang. “Given the growth records, I’m sure that’s the case with Shen-shixiong. Besides, the child has changed position. He’s already upside down. Getting ready to be born.”

Shen Qingqiu paled. He swallowed hard.

“Where is he– How is he– I mean, out of where is he– ”

Mu Qingfang picked up on the true meaning of his consternation and cleared his throat noisily, interrupting his stuttering before he ended up actually asking the question out loud.

“Heavenly Demon blood might have altered your insides to create a nurturing ambient for the child, but we can’t be sure it also has… assembled a natural channel for him to exit your body, ” he said, doing his best to be as delicate as possible. “I strongly believe the safest option is to schedule a date and perform an operation to subtract the child.”

It was Luo Binghe’s turn to pale.

“How dangerous will that be for my wife and son?” he asked, so full of apprehension he nearly choked Liu Qingge, squeezing his neck with both arms in a panicky embrace. 

“I wish I could reassure you, Your Highness, but unfortunately, it would be irresponsible on my end to do so,” frankly answered the medic. “This is unprecedented. We can only rely on theoretical predictions and the past few months of observation. We’ll take all the necessary measures, but I can’t lie to you. The risk is very high.”

Shang Qinghua produced a brand new planner, decorated with baby-related handmade illustrations, and took reign of the situation.

“Let’s go through the details right now,” he said, inking his quill with professional readiness. “Date. Fifteen days from now?”

“No. That might be risky. The birth could start on its own if we wait too much, and I believe it’d be in everyone’s best interests to avoid an emergency. A week from now will do. The child is strong enough.”

Shang Qinghua wrote down a date.

“Location?”

Mu Qingfang thought about it, eyebrows knit together.

“If you want to have the baby here, you are more than welcome to stay afterward for as long as you want,” said Mobei Jun politely, resting his elbow on Liu Qingge’s head.

“I think it would be better for both mother and child to go through the process in their definitive household,” Mu Qingfan said slowly. “The difference in temperature between the imperial palace and this palace is significant. The baby would adapt better if the little one is born in his natural homeland.”

Luo Binghe clapped his hands with enthusiasm, nearly poking Liu Qingge’s eye. 

“That sounds wonderful. I have prepared a lovely nursery back home. I can’t wait to show you, wife.”

“Did you take the little blankets Qinghua knitted?” Shen Qingqiu asked, grateful for the change of topic. He was getting increasingly nervous.

“I have already placed them in the bassinet.”

“Aw, you really did?” chimed Shang Qinghua, touched.

“Can we go back to the point?” begged Liu Qingge, clenching his teeth.

“Liu-ge, you’ll have to come with us,” said Sha Hualing, sitting on Liu Qingge’s knee. “The master won’t be able to assist with the birth without you.”

“With or without Liu-shidi’s aid, I don’t think it advisable to have the emperor nearby during the procedure,” declared Mu Qingfang carefully. “Surely you understand, my lord. We cannot take any risks, and we do not know how the child might react during such a delicate process.”

Luo Binghe pouted, fought back a couple of tears, and nodded in agreement.

“Date and place set; let’s move on to utilities,” said Shang Qinghua, starting a new page. “What will we need, Mu-shidi?”

“I’ll bring the medical instruments, pills, and sedative ointments. Make sure to have a sanitized space ready, with plenty of room and a high table to operate. Maybe add a very thin mattress on top so Shen-shixiong is comfortable. Plenty of hot water and clean rags.”

Shang Qinghua quickly wrote it all down, muttering to himself as he anticipated potential details they might be forgetting.

“Personnel?”

“I’ll bring my head disciple and ten senior disciples to aid me. I’ll need lady Chu Hua and lady Xin Li to be nearby in case we need anything from the outside. The child is already familiar with their Yin.”

“Lodging?”

“We’ll stay for a week to control Shen-shixiong. I also want my disciples to take shifts and observe the patient round the clock for a couple of days.”

“What about my husband?”

“Lord Mobei Jun should stay away as well. I’d only require you to be close in order to neutralize my Yang in case it’s necessary, Shang-shixiong. I’ll select Yin cultivators from my disciples, so we don’t have to worry about that.”

“What’s the procedure going to be like?”

They all turned their heads to Shen Qingqiu. He had been awfully quiet and looked sickly. He was clearly scared. Luo Binghe dragged Liu Qingge with him so he could hug his wife and rub his back in encouragement.

“You don’t need to know the details; you’ll be asleep, shixiong,” gently said Mu Qingfang.

“I’d feel better if I knew what’s going to happen,” insisted Shen Qingqiu stubbornly. Being asleep didn’t make him feel any better. If anything, the idea of having unknown stuff done to his inert body freaked him out greatly.

“If you must know… we’ll make an incision as small as possible, and we’ll subtract the baby. That is all,” explained the medic, avoiding as many gory details as possible.

“Has the medic done this before?” asked Sha Hualing with great interest. 

“Many times, but always on women. This is my first time operating on a pregnant man. That is why we must take all possible precautions.”

Sha Hualing clicked her tongue, bewildered. Demon shamans didn’t perform any kind of birthing procedures. If the mother wasn’t able to fend for herself, she’d die, and that was that. With a bit of luck, the youngling would claw its way away on its own. If not, it wasn’t considered a loss, but natural selection; only the strongest survived. To have a group of medics go to such lengths to secure a safe birth was awfully peculiar, even if it was the emperor’s child.

“So, will the Empress be deflated afterward?” Sha Hualing continued, fascinated. “I mean, what will happen with that huge belly? Will you cut all that skin too?”

“I’m tired,” exclaimed Liu Qingge out of a sudden. He wasn’t drained in the slightest, but he needed out. Hearing that conversation while buried under a pile of demons was simply too much for his sanity to bear. 

“Baobei, you better take him and lord Luo to the West wing,” hurriedly said Shang Qinghua, tugging Mobei Jun’s sleeve. “We can’t risk any ill reaction now.”

“I’ll take my leave too,” announced Mu Qingfang, taking his medical bag. “I shall return to Cang Qiong Mountain to report back to Sect Leader and begin preparations. If you excuse me.”

“Does the Empress need anything?” asked Chu Hua, reluctantly leaving Yang Yixuan’s side to go back to her duties.

“No, I’m quite alright,” faintly answered Shen Qingqiu, shaking his fan to soothe his flushed cheeks. “I’d like to rest now, so you may take your leave. Shang-shidi, would you mind staying for a bit longer? There are some logistical matters I’d like to discuss.”

Shang Qinghua recognized their secret “I’m freaking out” code and nodded in agreement, gently herding everyone out of the room.

“So, bro, only a week left!” he said in a cheerful tone once they were alone in the room. “You’re totally allowed to freak out. It’s fucking huge news.”

“A C-section,” muttered Shen Qingqiu, horrified. “A C-section in this time and age, where there aren’t even professional anesthetists.”

“Cucumber bro, I don’t wanna be indelicate, but as things are, I think a medieval C-section is way better than the alternative.”

“Alternative?”

“The kid popping out of your–”

“Shut up! Damn,” whelped Shen Qingqiu, covering his ears. “This is awful. I was so lost in Babyland that I forgot the boy had to come out of somewhere. What if it’s instantly conscious and tries to struggle out, and it tries to wreck my insides, and then they have to rip him away from my dead body–”

“Bro! Don’t be disgusting! Do you think Mu Qingfang would let things get so out of control? You have to stop comparing your pregnancy to creepy-ass pop culture movies!”

“I just hope we both make it,” Shen Qingqiu said in a whisper. “I don’t want to die. But I’d hate to be the only one who lives. And I’d hate it if Binghe ended up all alone.”

Shang Qinghua sighed and sat down next to him. Cucumber bro put up a flawless act in front of everyone, but he was scared to his bones. To be entirely honest, Shang Qinghua was scared too. There was no way to predict what would happen, and he suspected that no amount of fervent organizational work would be enough to divert his intrusive thoughts this time.

So, for both of their sakes, he turned a new page on his baby planner book.

“I think it’s time to start thinking of baby names, bro,” he said with a huge smile. “We can’t keep calling him Baby Bingqiu forever.”

Shen Qingqiu looked up at him, disoriented. He had gotten lost in his own grim thoughts again. He managed to pull a half-smile and allowed Master Airplane to distract him.

“I like Tianyu,” he said with a deep sigh. “Or Taio.”

“Both are nice. What about Zhiyuan?”

“Hm. Binghe has his heart set on Bingwen.”

“Ah, they all sound cool,” said Shang Qinghua, scribbling down the characters. “I’m glad I’m not you right now. Choosing another human’s name is a big-ass responsibility.”

“You might have to deal with that yourself one day,” teased Shen Qingqiu. “Once you get properly married, your loyal subjects will start pushing for an heir too, Queen Airplane.”

“One miracle baby at a time, bro,” answered Shang Qinghua, sticking his tongue out. “I’m in no rush to steal your thunder.”

Chapter Text

Shang Qinghua had bitten his nails so much he was about to chew on the tip of his fingers. 

He was sweating like a pig. He was tense as all hell, yes, but besides that, used as he had gotten to the cold weather of his own kingdom, the imperial palace now felt scorching hot and unbearably humid. Had it always been like that? How had he managed to run around and plan an entire fucking wedding without suffocating to death?

Shen Qingqiu had been in the operating room for over an hour by then. Shang Qinghua felt he was about to go mad waiting for someone to finally show up with a happy announcement. Or any kind of announcement at all, to be honest; the radio silence from the medical team was hardly a good omen. He had a dreadful gut feeling he couldn’t shake off.

The imperial prince had, once again, played them all. Even Mu Qingfang's borderline obsessive preventive measures hadn’t been enough. 

The medic had calculated Shen Qingqiu would be due in two weeks. To play it safe, he had arranged the intervention to take place a whole seven days before that date. Shang Qinghua was certain that the mischievous imp had heard their plans and aimed to pop himself out before schedule just for the sake of chaos.

A mere three days after Mu Qingfang’s last visit and not even a couple of hours after the whole party had arrived and settled back in the imperial palace, Shen Qingqiu had fallen to the floor, bent by a sudden outbreak of contractions.

Luckily for them, Shang Qinghua was proficient at bottling up his emotions to keep his sanity, so he pushed back the incoming heart attack and plunged into business mode with a passion.

He began roaring orders like an authentic logistical tyrant.

In a second, Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge were harshly exiled to the furthest corner of the palace with strict orders to keep the terrified father’s wild energy in check and well out of the way. 

Mobei Jun was nearly kicked into opening a portal and dragging Mu Qingfang and his entire cohort of assistants in.

Chu Hua and Lin Xi dashed around like mad dogs following Shang Qinghua’s directions to get the operation room ready. Yang Yixuan, who was trembling in a corner, was promptly sent to reunite with his Shizun with a string of select words that were hardly suited for a Cang Qiong Mountain Peak lord.

Surprisingly, the only one to keep a cool head was Sha Hualing. She picked up Shen Qingqiu, who had been forgotten on the floor in the whirlwind of urgent arrangements and carefully carried him to the operating room. She pulsed a soothing flow of spiritual energy into him and kept calmly talking to him until he was safely placed on the table.

Shang Qinghua rushed to his bro and grabbed his hands so hard he nearly crushed his fingers.

“Does it hurt? Cucumber, bro, does it hurt? Fuck! Bro, don’t worry, we got you. I got you. It’ll be okay. Just breathe.”

“Dude, my insides are all fucked! It fucking hurts, he’s gonna explode outta me like the Chestburster Alien thing–”

“Bullshit, shut the fuck up, stop blabbing about creepy stuff! Go to your happy place or something, come on! Work a little with me here!”

“Happy place my ass, you jerk! No contractions, no opinion! Fuck! Holy fuck! Fuck!”

Sha Hualing, Chu Hua, and Xin Lin stared with eyes wide open as both men continued speaking in tongues. They couldn’t understand a word and, for a moment, feared they had both gone mad with fear.

“Where the fuck is my husband?” barked Shang Qinghua, turning his head to the ladies-in-waiting with a manic expression.

“My queen, he went to fetch the medic—”

“I know that, I sent him myself! Why isn’t he back yet?!”

Before poor Xin Li untangled her tongue to answer, a portal opened in the middle of the room, and Mobei Jun emerged in a hurry, unceremoniously carrying a cursing Mu Qingfang in one arm and a heavy medical bag in the other. A stream of disciples jumped over after him, like a line of obedient ducklings rushing after a very tense mama duck.

“Here,” the demon panted, throwing both the doctor and his bag toward his wife.

Mu Qingfan, who had yet again been kidnapped into the demon realm without explanations, didn’t need more than a glance at Shen Qingqiu to forget his grievances and take action.

“You, out,” he ordered to Mobei Jun. “Go to your master and stay away. Keep your energy in check. Children, as we rehearsed, come on, no time to lose.”

The children in question were a medical team of experienced senior disciples that immediately began preparing the room and the patient with cold proficiency. 

Having set everything in motion, Shang Qinghua couldn’t keep it together anymore. His knees were shaking, and his mind was blank; his own spiritual energy was so convoluted that it began negatively affecting Shen Qingqiu.

Mu Qingfang noticed Shang Qinghua was the source of his patient’s sudden surge of nausea and promptly expelled him from the room.

“But– but I was supposed to help keep your Yang under control during the procedure,” Shang Qinghua stuttered, both eager to stay and keen to leave.

“Lady Sha Hualing will do for that,” rebuked Mu Qingfang, severely pointing at the door. “You’re in no condition to be of use here. Go check on the father and make sure things are under control over there. See that the nursery is ready for Shen-shixiong and the child to rest immediately after we’re done. Now go. You’re in the way.”

And thus Shang Qinghua was banished to the waiting room with the father and the other men. How very Colonial America. He might as well distribute celebratory Cuban cigars to pass the time until the baby was born.

He expected to find his charges losing their marbles in sheer panic, but to his great surprise, the waiting room was as silent as a tomb.

Luo Binghe was unexplainably asleep with his head resting on Liu Qingge’s shoulder; the warlord had his eyes closed and arms crossed, clearly focused on offsetting the other’s energy. He looked quiet but also stern and worried.

Mobei Jun walked to Shang Qinghua and hugged him tightly in an effort to calm his mate down. Shang Qinghua was still trembling like a leaf.

“Don’t fret so much,” he said, nestling him between his arms. “Empress Shen is strong, and so is the prince. You’ve been a witness to their resilience these past months.”

“I know, but still, it’s terrifying. I feel sick. I wish I could be as relaxed as the father,”  muttered Shang Qinghua, running his hand through his hair with a critical expression. “I can’t believe he of all people is napping at a time like this,”

“He’s not sleeping,” corrected Mobei Jun with a weak half-smile that didn’t conceal the grave solemnity in his eyes. “And he’s not relaxed.”

Shang Qinghua took another look at Luo Binghe. Upon closer examination, he noticed the emperor’s eyelids were twitching like crazy.

If he wasn’t asleep, why did he seem to be dreaming?

Shen Qingqiu opened his eyes and blinked, disoriented. His eyesight and mind were blurry.

He suddenly gasped, and his eyes darted to his abdomen. To his horror, there was nothing there; his stomach was as flat and lean as it used to be.

He patted his belly in a panic, looking for the familiar bump. It wasn’t there.

Unable to think clearly or understand what was happening, he broke into tears. As he wept, terrified, he rubbed his eyes; his hand hit something heavy over his nose.

Glasses?

He took the accessory in his hands and stared long and hard at it as if it were a relic from times past.

He touched the back of his neck. It took him a good couple of seconds of feeling his bare nape to realize his silky, endless hair was gone.

What was going on?

He was about to lose it. He looked around him; there was nothing. 

Just an endless, warm void of white light, so cozy and inviting he began to feel drowsy.

He tried to lie down for a quick snooze when a familiar voice called on to him.

Shen Yuan.

He flinched, startled.

Shen Yuan, please. It’s not time yet.

He turned, following the echo of that tender, distressed voice. His head buzzed, and his eyes felt heavy. He wanted to sleep so badly.

Please. Come back to me. To us. It’s not time yet. A-Yuan.

He shook his head to escape the somnolence and adjusted his glasses. A silhouette ran to him.

“Binghe?”

He looked desperate as he moved forward, struggling to get to him. He was weeping so much. Shen Yuan smiled. He always cried so easily.

A-Yuan!

“Husband, I’m here,” he said, slurring the words. It was getting harder and harder to keep awake, but he just couldn’t leave Binghe to his tears, could he? He had to comfort him, like he always did. 

Luo Binghe made one last effort and reached out to him with both hands. Shen Yuan shook his head indulgently and smiled. He simply couldn’t leave him alone, no matter how tired he felt. He’d sleep later, some other time.

“Stop crying, aren’t you ashamed? I’m coming to you.”

Shen Qingqiu’s eyes opened again, but this time he quickly recognized his surroundings. He was in the imperial palace’s nursery.

It was impossible to mistake it. Luo Binghe had packed out the place with such an extensive collection of trinkets, crystals, toys, and protection talismans that it pretty much looked like the wizard’s room in Howl’s Moving Castle. 

He frowned at the recollection of that favorite movie of his. Even though he recognized his location, it still took him some time to fully comprehend that he was not in his original world. That strange dream he had unsettled and confused him. Mu Qingfang had probably overdone it with the dose of the potent, bitter sedative he had forced Shen Qingqiu to swallow before the operation.

As he progressively came to his senses, he remembered more of that disturbing dream and tried to raise his head to examine his abdomen with apprehension. However, a pang of acute pain kept him in place as soon as he attempted to move a muscle.

Every corner of his body hurt in the strangest way. Shen Qingqiu was no stranger to pain and suffering; he had tasted plenty of both since he had transmigrated, but that kind of ache was different. It came from the inside and evenly spread to the outside, weakening his limbs and making it hard to move.

He sighed and resigned himself to staying still for a while longer. He’d better begin healing himself.

“You’re so beautiful.”

The adoring whisper caught his attention. He turned his head to the window with some difficulty.

Luo Binghe was sitting in a cushioned rocking chair, muttering to himself.

Oh. 

No, not to himself.

Shen Qingqiu felt a knot in his chest as his eyes watered.

“You’re so beautiful, son. Luo Tianyu. My A-Tian. You are so loved. So loved. You will always be so loved. You'll never be hungry or cold. Nobody will ever hurt you. Nobody will make you cry. Your mother and I love you so much. We’ll always protect you. It’s a promise.”

Shen Qingqiu bit back his tears and cleared his throat.

“Husband,” he called urgently, with a thin voice.

Luo Binghe turned his head instantly. He almost jumped up, but he remembered he had to be more careful now, so he made sure to restrain his movements and walk calmly to the bed.

“You’re awake,” he said, eyes wet with relief. “How do you feel?”

“Is he okay?” asked Shen Qingqiu, eyes fixed on the bundle of blankets wrapped between Luo Binghe’s arms.

“He’s fine. More than fine,” he answered, slowly sitting down on the edge of the bed. “He’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. He’s strong and healthy. And he has your eyes.”

He delicately bent down to Shen Qingqiu and moved away the many layers of blankets to expose the baby’s face.

Shen Qingqiu peeked with dread. He had suffered many nightmares in which the kid came into the world looking like a weird kind of tiny adult that stared pointedly and knowingly at him. He had been so afraid of being scared of his own child, unable to bond with him.

“Oh.”

He felt silly as his fears melted away. The child looked perfectly rosy and a bit wrinkly, like most newborns do; his only unusual traits were the demonic mark on his wide forehead and his slightly pointy ears, both identical to those of his father. Shen Qingqiu smiled. The boy had even come into the world sporting a comical, wild tuft of auburn hair. He was all Binghe.

“He looks so much like you,” Shen Qingqiu said, pleased. 

“He has wife’s eyes,” Luo Binghe insisted, softly rocking his son.

“It’s too soon to know that. Eye color can change, you know? Besides, I doubt he has actually opened his eyes yet. You’re seeing what you want to see.”

“He did open them for a bit, and they were clear green. I saw them,” stubbornly claimed the new father. Shen Qingqiu grinned and let it go. They’d settle the fundamental matter later, anyway.

“I want to hold him, but I’m so weak. You’ll have to help me move,” pleaded Shen Qingqiu, struggling to push himself up.

Luo Binghe stood up, held Luo Tianyu with one arm, and assisted his wife to sit down on the bed.

“Heavens. I don’t know why it hurts so much,” groaned Shen Qingqiu, panting with pain. He tried to even his breathing so as not to scare the child.

“The procedure was more complicated than Mu-shishu anticipated,” explained Luo Binghe, worriedly piling up pillows behind Shen Qingqiu’s back. “Both you and A-Tian suffered a qi deviation.”

“A qi deviation?” exclaimed Shen Qingqiu, eyes wide open with horrified surprise. “A baby can qi deviate?!”

“It’s hard to explain; even Mu-shishu is not entirely certain of it,” said Luo Binghe, frowning. “But apparently, both you and A-Tian reacted badly to the operation. Even unconsciously, you both perceived it as an attack and tried to protect each other. Both you and the baby attempted to resist being separated, and things got… serious.”

Shen Qingqiu stared at him, mouth dry as understanding began to dawn on him.

“How serious?”

Luo Binghe swallowed hard.

“They managed to remove A-Tian safely, but the moment he was out, your energy was depleted. You were almost gone. I felt it from the other side of the palace. You draining away. It was just like–”

He cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes.

“It felt just like the other times that I lost you.”

“Oh, Binghe.”

“I went for you. This time I was ready. I’ve been doing some research with senior Meng Mo during the time we had to be apart, you see? I discovered that a departing soul might be delayed in its own dream realm for a short time, just enough for it to be persuaded to go back to its body.”

Shen Qingqiu opened his mouth, but no sounds came out. What Luo Binghe explained in such short, simple terms was a feat that had probably required an ungodly amount of spiritual power. 

Had he been married to anyone other than Luo Binghe, he’d probably be dead by then. He shuddered and pushed the idea away.

“You found me in my dream realm?” Shen Qingqiu asked cautiously. The visions he had were not a fabrication after all. Which meant…

“I did. It was difficult to focus. Your memories kept swirling around me, so loud and clear it was hard to block them. And Shizun… wife… I saw some things I didn’t understand.”

Shen Qingqiu sighed and lowered his gaze with a guilty expression. The unavoidable had happened in the worst possible way. In the worst possible time.

“I think I know what you saw,” he declared gravely. “I’ve been dreading talking about it for years. Binghe, I…”

“I saw people,” Binghe interrupted, smiling warmly. Shen Qingqiu looked up, shocked. “Different, strange people. I was wary of them at first, but then… then I saw them lovingly surrounding someone. Someone different and strange too, but very, very familiar all the same. Someone lovely, who I recognized in my heart. And they called him Shen Yuan.”

Shen Qingqiu’s heart skipped a beat when he heard that name on Binghe’s lips.

“What did you say?” he whimpered, voice strained.

“Shen Yuan,” repeated Luo Binghe, softly. “A-Yuan. My A-Yuan. If I’m allowed to use the name, that is. It seemed very special to you. Only when I called you that, you finally heard me and came back to me.”

“Say it again,” Shen Qingqiu pleaded, closing his eyes. The emotions stirring in him were so convoluted the baby began fretting in his blankets.

“A-Yuan,” whispered Luo Binghe, kissing him gently on the lips. “I like how that sounds. It suits you. It suits me too.”

“Binghe, I want to tell you all about it.”

“And I want to hear everything. But there’s plenty of time for that,” said Luo Binghe, beaming. “Right now, there’s someone impatient to meet you.”

Shen Qingqiu nodded in wonder and held his breath. Luo Binghe carefully placed the child in his arms. He then sat right next to his wife and wrapped him between his arms to give him support.

“Hello, Luo Tianyu,” greeted Shen Qingqiu, kissing the mark on the newborn’s forehead. “You’re so handsome. Just like your father. I bet you have his eyes too.”

“A-Yuan!” exclaimed Luo Binghe, aggrieved. 

As if willing to mediate in the conflict, the little one frowned and barely opened one eye, making a funny expression.

“Look! Did you see?” claimed the father, excited. “Clear green!”

Shen Qingqiu laughed softly and rested his back against his husband’s chest, holding the baby tight to his heart.

Mobei Jun left the nursery in a daze. He had never seen a newborn so close before.

The child had been so aware of whoever approached his mother during the pregnancy that Mobei Jun walked in and peeked into the cradle, expecting to see at least a semi-self-aware entity with vigilant eyes. He wondered if the boy would recognize him or Shang Qinghua, given how he seemed to have graced them with his favor from the womb.

What had greeted him from the depths of the bassinet was something entirely else.

A diminutive wee creature with eyes shut closed and a permanent wrinkly frown, no fangs nor claws, and no hint of the fierce combativeness that had an entire crew of demons and cultivators jumping through hoops for months. The whole ordeal had left a deep impression on Mobei Jun. The ice lord had walked into the nursery half-ready to pledge his allegiance to the imperial prince in an effort to keep his goodwill; instead, he had found the live equivalent of a soft, squishy meat bun. The baby seemed so breakable Mobei Jun had even refused to pet his head out of fear of crushing him into a pulp.

Shang Qinghua, on the other hand, was entirely at ease and immediately requested to hold the newborn in his arms. Once he did, he had indulged in a session of cuddling and cooing so unrestrained Mobei Jun felt an unsettling urge to drag him into their bed and start a family on the spot.

“You can tell he’s part human,” the demon said to Shang Qinghua as they walked back to their chambers. “He’s so small and flimsy. Empress Shen was so big I expected the prince to be at least four times his actual size.”

Shang Qinghua chuckled, still getting used to the comforting feeling of having his soul back into his body after going nearly mad with worry the whole day. 

“Well, his father is a halfling too. Luo Tianyu is more human than demon. However, my king, by human standards, the child is huge,” Shang Qinghua explained, smiling. “He’s over eight pounds. I’m surprised someone as scrawny as Empress Shen managed to walk around carrying all that weight. How big were you when you were born?”

“About fifteen pounds. I was rather small myself. Firstborns tend to be much more robust in my bloodline.”

Shang Qinghua gasped. He briefly imagined himself dragging a fifteen-pound ice cube bun around and nearly fainted. He shooed the graphic image out of his mind.

“Where is Liu-shidi?” Shang Qinghua asked to change the topic. “If he wants to present his respects to the prince, he should go now before shixiong falls asleep again.”

“He fled the second he wasn’t needed to counterbalance Binghe anymore,” answered Mobei Jun, rather disappointed. He had grown used to having the little cultivator pet around. “He was in such a haste he even forgot to take his head disciple with him.”

“I doubt Yang Yixuan even noticed he’s gone. He's still orbiting around Chu Hua,” commented Shang Qinghua with a smirk. “Unless I’m sorely mistaken, I believe we’ll hear wedding bells tolling again soon enough.”

Mobei Jun kept silent, lost in thought. 

They walked quietly for a while until Shang Qinghua picked up on the demon’s sudden introspection.

“Are you alright, my king?” he asked, squeezing his mate’s hand on his own. “You look tired. It’s been a strange couple of months, right? A veritable chaos of weddings and babies. I think we both should enjoy a good dose of hard-earned peace and quiet.”

“I was thinking,” the demon began, choosing his words carefully. “That it isn’t at all undesirable.”

“Our hard-earned peace and quiet?”

“No. The chaos of weddings and babies,” Mobei Jun admitted, a tad bashfully. 

Shang Qinghua was startled. He stopped in his tracks and pulled Mobei Jun closer to him.

“Am I to understand that my king wishes for those things?”

Mobei Jun hesitated for a moment and then nodded lightly, embarrassed.

Shang Qinghua looked at him, trying to put his own convoluted thoughts and feelings in order. He was about to blurt out an evasive comment, but then his eyes detected the faint blush in his husband’s cheeks as he waited for his answer, and his heart melted.

He realized, to his great surprise, that he himself wasn’t entirely opposed to the ancient, crazy business of marriage and children as long as he walked that path with Mobei Jun by his side.

After all, once the soul-draining planning was over, the wedding itself had been quite something. And little Luo Tianyu was pretty darn cute.

Shang Qinghua grinned and walked ahead of his partner, arms crossed on his back.

“If you must know, I am quite the conservative, my king,” he declared, with a playful glint in his eyes. “I cannot even consider the logistical nightmare of producing offspring before I am properly wed.”

Mobei Jun brightened up. He sprinted to grab Shang Qinghua by the waist and lifted him to his eye level.

“Qinghua, my mate, my bonded partner. After all we’ve been through, there’s only one question left for me to ask,” he said, nuzzling the small, devoted person that gazed adoringly at him. “Will you marry me?”

Shang Qinghua wrapped his arms around Mobei Jun’s neck and gave it serious thought.

“Under one condition,” he said, expression grave.

“Name it.”

“You’ll have to find another wedding planner. I am not going through that mess again,” he sanctioned, determined.

Mobei Jun chuckled and kissed him.

“Absolutely. This time, your only job will be to become my bride.”

“That I’ll gladly do. Then it’s settled,” said Shang Qinghua, looking lovingly into Mobei Jun’s eyes. 

“My king, I will marry you.”

Chapter Text

“Noodles.”

“Yes.”

“Hand-pulled noodles.”

“Yes.”

Luo Binghe stared at his dignified General, towering before him in all his imposing magnitude. He was dead serious and stubbornly determined.

“Let me ask you again. Are you sure you want to focus your bonding ritual on… noodles?”

“Yes.”

“It’s supposed to be something meaningful for both of you or the ceremony won’t be valid, you know.”

“I know. It is meaningful. We have history.”

“History? With noodles?”

“Yes.”

Luo Binghe clicked his tongue and gave up. To each their own. He failed to understand why Mobei Jun had felt the need to share that bizarre piece of private information with him, but so be it. When it came to Shang Qinghua, the ice demon had done and said way stranger things. It was better not to dwell too much.

“Very well,” he said, shrugging. “I’ll call the head chef so you can tell him what you need to be done. Remember to make sure whatever they make is edible for humans; our traditional ingredients are highly toxic for them.”

“No, that… that’s not why I came to you,” said Mobei Jun, shaking his head, a bit embarrassed. “I need to make them myself.”

Luo Binghe blinked.

“You want to cook.”

“I have to, yes. I need you to teach me.”

Oh, so that was it. Now it made more sense. Mobei Jun had become much more talkative and open since he mated with Shang Qinghua, but he still reverted back to his old cryptic, exasperatingly obscure way of communication when he got tense.

“Well, if you’re free, now’s as good a time as ever,” Luo Binghe said with sudden enthusiasm. The wedding was still a couple of days away and being separated from Shen Qingqiu was eating him up inside. Any distraction, no matter how unconventional, was more than welcome. “I’ll order the head chef to vacate the kitchen. I think it’d be in our best interest to avoid an audience.”

“That would be wise, yes.”

“What would be wise is for you to leave that damn winter coat here. You don’t want natural Tundra snow leopard fur shredding on your broth.”

They both entered the palace kitchen in high spirits. Luo Binghe fetched two aprons and took off his hairpiece to tie his abundant, unruly hair in a messy bun.

“Why are you doing that?” asked Mobei Jun, intrigued.

“You want your mate to choke on hair while he eats your proposal noodles?” Luo Binghe asked. He shredded a strip out of a washcloth and threw it to Mobei Jun’s face with a smirk. “Tie it up, come on.”

Mobei Jun clumsily obeyed. His hair was so straight and silky that it kept falling out of the cloth’s grip; it was almost impossible to tie, so he usually kept it loose. He had no clue of how to handle it. Luo Binghe groaned and snatched the improvised scrunchie out of the ice demon’s claws.

“Turn around; we’ll be here all day at this pace, and they need the kitchen back before noon,” he grumbled as he quickly braided his General’s endless mane.

“You’re the emperor; who’d dare kick you out?” muttered Mobei Jun, mortified as he bent down to get his head closer to Luo Binghe’s fast-moving hands.

“That’s not it. Human meals take time to prepare, and I don’t want to delay Shizun’s lunch. There, all set. Did you wash your hands already?”

“Do I have to?”

“We murdered seventy-five dissidents from the Viper Tribe before breakfast, I can still smell the blood in your claws. Are you trying to propose or poison your partner?”

Mobei Jun humphed, and they both carefully rinsed their hands until they were up to Luo Binghe’s hygiene standards.

“Well then, ingredients. Wheat flour, salt, and water.”

“That’s it?” asked Mobei Jun, surprised. Shang Qinghua had been so adamant about the dish that he had expected it to be some kind of complex human delicacy. 

“That’s it. Making the dough is no big deal. The difficulty lies in the pulling technique,” explained Luo Binghe with a professional air. “We’ll make one serving each. I’ll show you, and you’ll follow. Muscle memory is the quickest way to learn.”

Still uncertain about the whole thing, Mobei Jun carefully imitated Luo Binghe as they got the dough smooth and firm. 

“A pinch of salt now,” the teacher indicated, pointing at a bowl filled with the substance.

Mobei Jun nodded and buried his entire fist in the pot.

“Stop! What are you doing? I said a pinch!” yelped Luo Binghe, grasping Mobei Jun’s claw before he pressed a thick handful of salt into the dough.

“Is this not enough?”

“Am I speaking in another language? A pinch! A little bit!”

Mobei Jun observed, mistified, as Luo Binghe applied a flimsy amount of the substance to the mixture. What was that little bit going to change? Human food was nonsensical.

They divided and flattened the dough, and finally coated it with oil.

“Now we leave it to rest for a while,” said Luo Binghe, removing some oil from Mobei Jun’s dough. The demon had poured the contents of the bottle over it as if he were watering an indoor plant. 

“Rest for what?” asked Mobei Jun, baffled.

“So it can relax and spread. Then it’ll be easier to pull.”

“The dough? Spread? What spell did you use on it?”

“Spell?” Luo Binghe raised both eyebrows. “What are you talking about? It does it on its own. Have you never cooked anything in your life?”

“I eat my meat raw in five minutes and move on with my business. I’d never get anything done if I spent this much time in my food every single time.”

“Well, you’ve consorted with a human, so you’d better get used to it.”

“Are they all so… eccentric about their meals?”

“Well, yes. Food is part of human culture. In ideal conditions, it’s something pleasurable you take your time to share with others. And each person has their own tastes. So you should learn what your Qinghua likes real soon if you want to be a proper partner.”

That last piece of advice shook the demon to his core. It dawned on him that he truly had mated with a human and had a world of cultural differences to overcome if he wanted to make his partner acceptably happy. He suffered a fleeting moment of panic.

“Do you remember everything Consort Shen fancies?”

“Yes. I’ve been cooking for him since I was a child,” answered Luo Binghe, beaming with pride. “But nothing’s set in stone; tastes change as people live on. Shizun’s gotten quite picky with his food lately. Some things he used to love he can’t stomach any more, and he’s developed a liking for the strangest snacks.”

“And what do you do when that happens?” asked Mobei Jun, frankly alarmed. He couldn’t fathom how he’d keep up with a lifetime of everchanging human recipes when he barely knew how to boil water. 

“You adapt and learn,” said Luo Binghe, shrugging. “It gets easier once you know the basics: frying, grilling, baking, roasting, searing, broiling, braising, boiling, steaming, poaching, simmering.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to remember any of this,” muttered Mobei Jun, who had only understood three words out of the whole catalog. “I hope Qinghua doesn’t expect me to cook all of his meals as you do.”

“Of course he won’t. And you should change that,” said Luo Binghe, hands on his hips like an old, experienced matron. “What could be better than having your partner craving something you’ve made yourself? Seeing them enjoying the meal like it’s the best the world has to offer? It’s addictive.”

“The food?”

“No, the pampering!” exclaimed Luo Binghe, exasperated. He was beginning to pity Shang Qinghua. Shizun had taken his sweet time to understand Luo Binghe’s intentions back in the day, but he feared Mobei Jun was even denser. He felt guilty. He should have intervened earlier; it was a miracle of Fate that those two had made it. He had noticed Mobei Jun’s inclination to favor the scribe early on, but he had never taken it seriously; busy as he was nursing his own heartache, Luo Binghe had failed to realize how serious his friend was about his pet human. 

“Look, just as you had to teach me everything about demon culture from scratch for me to survive, you’ll have to learn everything about human culture for your mate to survive,” he said, patting his hands on his apron to get rid of the flour in his fingers. “Marriage is more than a bowl of noodles, Shuang Xue. It’s hard work every day. It’s not over just because you mated and are about to bond.”

Mobei Jun tilted his head. He began to understand what Binghe was trying to say. Even though his catastrophic courtship efforts had taught him a hard lesson, he discovered himself constantly comparing his relationship with that of his own parents and other demons. 

His mother had pretty much forcefully bonded with his father to escape an arranged betrothal with a demon she despised; she simply looked for an outranking male, beat the crap out of him, bargained with him into formal marriage, and then forgot he existed once she fulfilled her part of the deal and gave him an heir.

That was lord Mobei Jun’s main example of blissful domestic life. He pictured Qinghua in that equation and shuddered. No way in Heaven or Hell he’d walk down that path.

“Tell me more,” he pleaded, wiping the cold sweat and leaving a white trail of flour on his forehead. 

Luo Binghe tilted his head.

“About what? I’ve been saying a lot of things, and you hardly made a few noises in response.”

“How to be a proper mate to a human.”

“That’s– a very wide topic to expand.”

“We have some time left; the dough is not to be disturbed yet, isn’t it?”

“It’s not like it’s alive, Shuang Xue.”

“What else should I do? To make him happy.”

Luo Binghe thought long and hard. To be honest, he didn’t really have much more experience than Mobei Jun; he had devoted his entire life to the same person and hadn’t even spared a look in the way of anyone else. 

He was, in a way, hyperspecialized in Shen Qingqiu. He could interpret his wishes from a single glance, but that knowledge was hardly useful when extrapolated to others. And of all people, he didn’t have a clue of anything related to Shang Qinghua. He had paid so little attention to the man that he had trouble remembering his face unless he made an active effort.

However, Mobei Jun stared at him expectantly; he looked almost ready to take notes like a dutiful student. Luo Binghe cleared his throat and decided to offer at least some practical tips to keep the hamster-like Queen alive and healthy.

“Your mate is used to the mild weather of Cang Qiong Mountain,” he suggested. “If he’s going to move to your palace permanently, you should make sure he’s warm. Extreme cold can kill humans, and yours is a bit of a weakling, cultivator and all.”

Mobei Jun’s ears perked up. He was greatly alarmed; Shang Qinghua had now and then caught light colds from his frequent stays in his domains, but he had never considered the grim possibility of death. 

“We’ll move to your palace,” he immediately announced, determined. “He’ll be warm here.”

Luo Binghe choked on the broth he was tasting. Move? With them? Forever? He had spontaneous visions of Shang Qinghua and Mobei Jun invading his chambers for breakfast every single morning.

“There’s absolutely no need to do that !” he exclaimed, nearly dropping the ladle in the saucepan. “You can’t stand the heat here; it won’t do either. You need to find balance. Build a fireplace in your chambers and the rooms Shang-shishu uses. That should be enough.”

“Oh. That should be easy. I’ll see it done before we return,” said Mobei Jun thoughtfully. Luo Binghe sighed in relief.

“Yes, you do that. Good. Oh, another thing that must be done soon is presenting him as your Queen to your people. They’ve seen him around for a long time. They might have trouble adjusting to his new rank.”

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” said Mobei Jun. “They know he was my intended.”

“You’ve been courting him openly in front of the palace servants?”

“My servants, my subjects, my court, and my army, too,” added Mobei Jun, shrugging. “I dragged him around my frontiers every full moon, so I suppose the lords of the neighboring kingdoms are aware as well. People have been expecting an announcement for some time now.”

Luo Binghe sat against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms, baffled. 

“Shuang Xue, when did you start courting him?” 

Mobei Jun frowned and gave it some serious thought. It had been so long that he had lost track. 

“I think… about five or six months after I met him.”

“But– weren’t you still a teenager when you met?” exclaimed Luo Binghe, eyes wide open.

“I suppose I was about the same age you were when you realized you coveted Consort Shen,” declared Mobei Jun with a mocking half-smile. “Only I didn’t need a risqué display with Immortal Binding Cable to put two and two together.”

Luo Binghe threw a fistful of flour at Mobei Jun’s face. The demon avoided it with a chuckle.

“That’s it, no more advice for you,” growled the Emperor, flustered. “Time to pull. Look here. We’re cutting the dough into strips like this. See? No, not like that; you are tearing it. You better retract your claws, or you’ll shred the strips every time.”

“I can’t retract my claws.”

“You can’t?”

“You can?”

Luo Binghe raised both hands before Mobei Jun’s face and withdrew his long, sharp nails like a cat. Mobei Jun tried to do so as well, with no success. His dark claws were not going anywhere.

Poor Shang-shishu.

“You better practice how to handle those things around… uhm… squishy things,” vaguely suggested Luo Binghe. “Okay, now take one strip, and pull with both hands like this. Smoothly. And when your arms are this far, you bounce the noodle against the counter, fold it, and repeat the motion. See? Now you try.”

Mobei Jun took a strip of dough and attempted to pull it in opposite directions. The strip instantly broke in half.

He took another. This time he accidentally pierced both ends of the noodle with his claws. The noodle tore and fell to the floor.

He took another. This time he managed to pull it, but he used too much strength and the noodle ended up being so thin in the middle it broke the second he threw it into the water.

He took another. And another. And another. And another, until there were no more left, and not a single decent noodle had made it to the saucepan.

“Binghe,” he whined, frustrated and despaired. He’d never get married at that rate!

“It’s fine; you’re getting the hang of it,” lied Luo Binghe, patting his back. “You can still try with the serving I made. Here. One more time, come on.”

Mobei Jun promptly ruined the entirety of the strips Luo Binghe had cut, so they went back to square one and prepared more dough from scratch. And then, when Mobei Jun once again destroyed the third and fourth rounds of stripes, they prepared yet another batch.

Hours went by as the ice demon busied about; he had by then memorized the recipe, and Luo Binghe, sweaty and exhausted, left him to his own devices for a while to prepare Shen Qingqiu’s lunch and hand it over to the discreetly terrified kitchen staff waiting outside the door. 

When he returned, he discovered his General holding a decently-looking hand-pulled noodle between his claws. He was so scared of wrecking his first successful attempt that he stood stiff like the bizarre statue of some obscure Soup deity.

“See? You did it,” chirped the Emperor, inwardly thanking the Gods. He had never been so happy to behold a single noodle in his entire life. “Now throw it into the water and pull the rest. Be quick. If they boil for too long, they won’t be edible.”

“What? Water ruins them, too?” exclaimed the demon, horrified. He nearly hugged his one triumphant noodle against his chest. How did humans feed at all when all their sustenance was that capricious? “I don’t want to risk it. Can’t we eat them like this?”

“They’re raw!”

“But–”

“You promised these damn proposal noodles to Shang Qinghua; you’re serving these damn proposal noodles to Shang Qinghua!” roared Luo Binghe, picking up a particularly uneven dough stripe. “Do you want to be a bonded man or not?”

“I do–”

“Then pull, General Mobei Jun! That’s an order!”

“Yes, Your Highness!”

Both demons battled against the stripes with energy; many noodles still fell victim to Mobei Jun’s burning passion, but after a long while, a complete serving of beautiful noodles finally made it to the bowl.

The ice demon carefully poured the freshly-made beef noodle soup and added some saucy toppings.

Then he took a few steps back to admire his accomplishment. He was sweaty, his hair disheveled, and face and hands covered in flour and bits of dough, but the dish was ready. He stared at it in awe. His entire future floated in the broth alongside those noodles.

Luo Binghe took off his apron and advanced gravely to the bowl with a fresh pair of chopsticks.

He bent over and ceremoniously picked a single noodle. Mobei Jun held his breath as the expert gave a taste.

Luo Binghe chewed, and then chewed some more. He took a sip of the broth, wiped his mouth, and turned to his General.

“If you proposed to me with these…” he began, expression severe.

“What?” inquired Mobei Jun, clutching his long braid between his claws.

Luo Binghe smiled.

“I’d definitely marry you.”

The ice demon let out a relieved sigh and collapsed on the nearest chair.

“This was the most challenging thing I’ve done in my life,” he declared, pressing his temples. “I have no idea why this means so much to Qinghua.”

Upon hearing that last part, Luo Binghe had a moment of realization.

“I think… I think it might be my fault,” he said apologetically.

Mobei Jun stiffened and slowly turned his eyes to him.

“Your fault,” he repeated, stunned.

“Shang-shishu visited us when you two were having your little fallout, remember? The whole mess with your uncle–”

“Go on.”

“I was making hand-pulled noodles for my wife then. I heard Shizun giving him advice… about you. And then we ate. Maybe he ended up associating you with the meal?”

Something about the innocent story caught Mobei Jun’s attention, distracting him from the fleeting killing intent he felt against his best friend.

“You said advice? About me?” he asked, intrigued.

“I tried not to eavesdrop, but our house was small, and your Qinghua speaks so loud,” explained Binghe. “I didn’t get all of it, but I think Shang-shishu was very close to leaving for good. I don’t know where or how, but it seemed he meant to go to a place where nobody would be able to find him. My wife persuaded him to think it over.”

Mobei Jun felt his stomach turn. He remembered Qinghua’s threats to leave back then but had always thought that most of it was a bluff. After all, no matter where he went, there would always be a way to find him, sooner or later.

However, why would he lie to Consort Shen? And what need would Consort Shen have to convince him to give it more thought if the possibility of Qinghua vanishing into thin air wasn’t real?

He realized how close he’d been to losing him forever, not only then but afterward; Mobei Jun had broken his word and then proceeded to engage in his ill-fated courtship efforts.

Having the chance to escape to God knows where and be free, Shang Qinghua still stayed with him. He had endured. He had chosen him, hoping against hope, over and over again.

Just how much did that little man love him?

His eyes went back to the steaming bowl. Noodles. All Qinghua had asked was that. He deserved the world and then more, yet all he asked for was a simple home-cooked meal.

Ah, Mobei Jun was so entirely overwhelmed. He could never win against Qinghua. He was entirely, forever wrapped around his little finger. And happily so.

“Are you alright?” asked Luo Binghe, alarmed by how solemn his friend looked.

“I want to bond with him so badly,” Mobei Jun blurted out, covering his face with one hand.

“Then do it now,” said Binghe, resolutely crossing his arms. “Take this bowl and go.”

“No. It has to be special. I don’t want to rush this. I’ve made enough of a mess of things already, and he’s been kind enough to look past it. I need to wait for the right time and place.”

Luo Binghe shrugged and stretched out, putting on his apron again.

“What are you doing?” asked Mobei Jun, perplexed.

“If you’re not in a hurry,” the Emperor said, winking at him. “You might as well learn how to make dessert.”

The demon froze in place.

“Dessert?”

“Humans greatly enjoy tasting something sweet after every meal. Pastries and confections are much more complex, but I think you’re ready for the challenge. Do you have any idea of what kind of sweets your mate likes?”

Mobei Jun pushed away the looming feeling of doom and put his own apron back on.

“Melon seeds.”

“Those are salty, Shuang Xue.”

“...”

“Never mind. We’ll come up with something. The prize is worth the effort, I suppose.”

Mobei Jun smiled.

Shang Qinghua was well worth every effort, for the rest of his life.

Chapter Text

Shang Qinghua sat on his brand-new chair, in front of his brand-new desk, inside of his brand-new Qing Jing Peak lord lodging, and let out a noisy, dramatic sigh.

“Day one and you’re already deflating like that?” teased Shen Qingqiu, holding Luo Tianyu’s little hands as the infant attempted to stand on his mother’s knees. 

“I haven’t done shit for an entire year, bro,” Shang Qinghua answered, resting his head on the polished surface of the wooden desk. “Coming back right into a full day of public ceremonies and bureaucratic procedures was not exactly a breeze. Besides, I don’t think your former disciples are too happy about having me take your place. Nor do the other Peak Lords, for that matter.”

“Nonsense. If anything, they couldn’t care less. I doubt most of them even remembered my face. And the ones who did were too busy gushing over this little guy here anyway.”

Luo Tianyu giggled and flexed his chubby legs up and down on Shen Qingqiu’s lap.

“Gimme,” whined Shang Qinghua, stretching his arms toward the baby. “I need to recharge.”

“Be careful,” Shen Qingqiu warned, dropping the child in his friend’s arms. “He’s teething, and his fangs are sharp.”

“Aw, are they? Are they sharp? Of course they are, aren’t they, little man? I bet they are the sharpest and prettiest fangs in all of the demon realm,” cooed Shang Qinghua, hugging the baby against his chest. The kid made a string of delighted sounds and began tugging his godmother’s long ponytail. “You’re not biting your uncle Qinghua, aren’t you, A-Tian? No, you are not. You’re such a good guy. Such a good, tiny prince. A wee, lil’, itty-bitty imp.”

Shen Qingqiu smiled and shook his head. The itty-bitty imp was already one year old and heavy as fuck. To his father’s delight, he was growing into a little clone of Shen Qingqiu, but his frame was all Binghe. At that pace, he was certainly on his way to becoming a demonic chunk of muscle. Shen Qingqiu’s joints were so sore he was certain his arms would turn into limp noodles by the time the prince took his first steps.

“Make the most of your time; Ning Yingying will barge in claiming him back any moment now,” Shen Qingqiu teased, stretching. He loved visiting Qing Jing Peak. Everyone was so lovingly eager to take his tiny titan of a son off his arms! It was exceedingly refreshing.

“I won’t let her in; it’s Uncle Peak Lord time now,” grumbled Shang Qinghua, pulling his bangs out of the baby’s mouth. Luo Tianyu whined and began climbing up his lenient godmother’s chest like a monkey.

“So, want me to show you the ropes?” Shen Qingqiu asked, fanning himself leisurely. Despite the offer, he didn’t seem too keen to move at all. He was too comfortable. There was something about his dear Peak that made him drowsy. Maybe it was the mild weather or the fresh scent of bamboo in the breeze. 

“No need. Yue Qingyuan already told me everything I needed to know and more. The guy seems to think I’m gonna set the place on fire or something,” Shang Qinghua pouted, hopping his knee as a make-believe horsie for Luo Tianyu. “I swear he’s obsessed with you. He would have sooner invaded a mountain to build a brand new Peak instead of having someone else sully the sacred ground you walked on.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” dismissed Shen Qingqiu, shaking his fan with energy. “He’s just being thorough. This is the first time one Peak Lord replaces another, and you’re simultaneously ruling a whole-ass kingdom back in the demon realm.”

“Nope, I’m not. Only the legitimate Queen can rule, and I see no crown on this head,” retorted Shang Qinghua. “Do you see any crown, A-Tian? You don’t, do you? Of course you don’t, because there isn’t any. What a smart boy. Smarter than your jerk of a mother.”

“As your official Advisor, I’m gonna earn my wages right now and tell you that’s a steaming pile of bullshit,” declared Shen Qingqiu, rolling his eyes. “Denial doesn’t suit you, Master Airplane. Are you really gonna cling to a technicality?”

“Only formally married royals can rule, and I ain’t one,” stubbornly said Shang Qinghua.

“And whose fault is that?” mercilessly attacked Empress Cucumber. “You fired your wedding planner on her first week.”

“Come on, bro. Who messes up an entire color scheme? I clearly said silver and teal. Teal . Not washed-up lime green. Gimme a break.”

“She was from the Owl demon clan! They are literally colorblind! And you chose her yourself.”

“Meh. Excuses.”

“Fair enough, so what happened with the planner you hired after that, again?”

“Yeah, right, because you’d totally trust someone who considers boiled chicken legs a tasteful appetizer.”

“You served those at my wedding, asshole,” seethed Shen Qingqiu. “What about the one that came after that?”

“I swear to God, floral arrangements are not that difficult to not fuck up. I even gave her a set of drawings of what I wanted!” contended Shang Qinghua, vexed.

“The Piranha flower pyramid you requested ate her right arm.”

“It’s not my fault they sucked at their job, bro. Do you have a point or not?”

“You’re such a pain in the ass. If nobody’s up to your insane perfectionist standards, plan the damn thing yourself.”

“Yeah, right! I’m gonna plan a big, fat wedding, get my ass crowned, and formally become a ruler. And a Peak Lord. And then people are gonna expect babies. What a lovely fucking plan you’ve got going on for me, Peak Advisor!”

“What’s wrong with babies? You like them well enough,” Shen Qingqiu observed, as Shang Qinghua trotted around the room with Luo Tianyu perched on his shoulders. The little cowboy laughed heartily every time his human mount jumped over some obstacle.

“There’s nothing wrong with babies,” Shang Qinghua replied, sitting back on his desk. “It’s just… it’s too much pressure. I feel like everyone is watching me closely to see if I fuck up or not. And what if I do? I’m not ready for any of this. Not even Yue Qingyuan trusts me with a Peak that pretty much runs itself.”

Luo Tianyu felt the looming shift in Shang Qinghua’s spiritual flow and pressed his chubby cheek against his chest. Shen Qingqiu chuckled and walked to him.

“Are you trying to power up your uncle with energy?” he asked, patting the baby’s back. “You’re a little too young for that. Besides, your A-Shang does not need energy. He needs a kick in the butt.”

“Always so supportive,” grumbled Shang Qinghua, burying his face in Luo Tianyu’s thick auburn curls.

“I won’t aid and abet your self-sabotage efforts, man,” replied Shen Qingqiu, crossing his arms with the sassiest air. “You’re the most capable person I know. You can perfectly juggle a kingdom, a Peak, and a couple of icy infants, and then make some time to write a whole-ass million-word book before tea time.”

Shang Qinghua whined miserably.

“Don’t even mention writing. I’m still gathering the courage to write a single word in that fancy book you gave me.”

“Writer’s block?”

“A long, unforgiving one.”

“Just give yourself time to warm up to everything. I’m sure you’ll get in the creative zone eventually. I can support you taking your sweet time, bro, but I don’t ever want to hear you spilling crap about you being unworthy and shit again.”

“Your mommy plays it cool and tough, but he’s a softie deep down, isn’t he, A-Tian?” sang Shang Qinghua, rocking the child in his arms. Shen Qingqiu hit him in the head with his fan, flustered.

“One last piece of advice,” he began. Shang Qinghua smirked.

“You’re really taking your new job seriously.”

“Shut it and listen, dammit. I suggest you talk about these concerns of yours with Mobei Jun. If I know you at all, you are probably bending over backwards to avoid the topic.”

“Quite literally,” muttered the venerable Qing Jing Peak lord, rubbing his lower back. “At least it works every time.”

“Spare me the details; I don’t want my son to pick up on depravities so soon.”

“Considering who his father is, I wouldn’t make that a hill to die on, bro.”

Shen Qingqiu rolled his eyes in knowing agreement and picked up the baby in his arms with a tiny groan of effort. 

“Back to topic, Master Airplane. Promise me you’ll talk with Mobei Jun,” he said, perching the child on his hip.

Before Shang Qinghua could protest, as if summoned by the Empress, a swirling portal of cold energy cut into the air, and the King of the Northern Realm emerged nonchalantly.

As soon as he spotted his godfather, Luo Tianyu grew restless and stretched out his arms to him while making a comical string of cute little growls.

Mobei Jun smiled widely and growled back. It was a low, vibrant sound that stirred the child up.

The demon raised one arm expectantly; Shen Qingqiu sighed, gathered strength, and threw the kid toward him like a rugby ball.

Mobei Jun caught the infant in the air by the leg and shook him roughly as if he were a rag doll, laughing. The baby shook his arms in the air, upside down, and burst out laughing and yelping.

“My king, be careful!” whined Shang Qinghua, covering his mouth with both hands. “You’ll hurt him!”

“We’re just playing. See? He likes it,” answered the demon. Luo Tianyu bent over himself, giggling, and fiercely bit Mobei Jun’s hand with his sharp baby teeth.

He didn’t even scratch the hard skin, but the demon yanked him harshly by the arm and snarled right at the child’s face.

“Shuang Xue!” yelped Shang Qinghua, horrified.

“Leave them be,” said Shen Qingqiu, fanning himself with a smile. “He’s teaching him manners. Binghe does it too, but Tianyu doesn’t pay him any mind.”

However, the baby did respond to Mobei Jun’s correction. He pouted and purred back apologetically.

“Good boy,” praised the ice demon, pleased. “He can’t go around taunting outranking demons or he’ll get hurt, Qinghua.”

Shang Qinghua shook his head helplessly. Given the royal role of his parents, it was a necessity to have Luo Tianyu be raised as a demon; he understood that, but it still pained him to see his rosy, lovely boy being roughed around like a lion cub, no matter how much he enjoyed it. Cucumber bro was used to it out of sheer exposure to the method, but it still made Shang Qinghua flinch. It was one of the reasons why he was so eager to avoid the topic of raising his own litter.

“Come on, you little chomper,” said Shen Qingqiu, stretching his back. “Time for lunch. If you excuse me, we’ll head back to the Bamboo House now.”

“Go ahead. This little tummy is so empty I can almost see your little bones! Here they are, your little bones!” chimed Shang Qinghua, tickling Luo Tianyu’s sides. The baby laughed, baring his fangs. Shen Qingqiu shivered.

“Given how often he eats, you’ll sooner see my little bones,” he sighed, placing both his hands over his chest in a protective motion.

“He’s biting you?” asked Mobei Jun, ears perking up. 

“Yes, he can’t help it. It’s more like he scratches me. The fangs get in the way when he feeds,” Shen Qingqiu explained. Shang Qinghua smirked. When had they all become so used to each other’s company that Cucumber bro was comfortable discussing his nipple status with freakin’ demon king Mobei Jun?

Mobei Jun put both hands under the baby’s arms and raised him to his eye level. He opened his mouth and bared his fangs at him.

Luo Tianyu immediately followed his lead and proudly exposed his tiny needles. He shook his legs wildly in excitement.

Mobei Jun said “In” in a loud, clear voice, and retracted his fangs until they were the length of normal human teeth.

Luo Tianyu blinked and reached out, clumsily touching his godfather’s sharp set of teeth, looking for the missing canines. Mobei Jun slowly showed him the motion once again. The little demon instinctually struggled to imitate him for a long time, until he managed to retract his little fangs every time Mobei Jun pronounced the command word.

Shang Qinghua sighed. He was training the child like a puppy. All that was missing was a clicker and a bag of treats.

“You’re a fine child,” praised Mobei Jun, handing him over to Shen Qingqiu. “The Empress may now repeat the word, and he’ll retract his fangs. Hopefully, that will ease the issue.”

Shen Qingqiu stared at him in awe, so grateful he was nearly tearing up.

“If only Binghe had taught him this three months ago,” he sighed, rocking the baby in his arms. The child pressed his cheek against his mother’s chest and groaned, hungry.

“Don’t hold it against him,” Mobei Jun said with a shrug. “He probably doesn’t know how to do it himself. I assumed he had taught the prince already. I often forget how much of our culture he ignores.”

“Teach Binghe the trick too, as soon as you have a spare moment, Shuang Xue,” said Shen Qingqiu, walking out with the fretting infant. “One set of teeth is as much as I can handle, and I’d rather save my endurance for this baby.”

“Too much information, shixiong!” cried Shang Qinghua, covering his ears. Shen Qingqiu smirked and left for the privacy of the Bamboo House.

Mobei Jun waited until he was out of sight and then wrapped his arms tightly around Shang Qinghua, kissing his neck.

“I thought you had retracted your fangs,” Shang Qinghua whispered, shivering as Mobei Jun lightly bit his skin.

“I need them to feed,” the demon muttered, pressing his lower body against his wife. “And I’m starving.”

“Behave, Your Highness!” laughed Shang Qinghua, pushing him away. “I can’t desecrate my new office on my first day on the job.”

“Very well. There’s plenty of time to inaugurate the place. How did everything go?” asked Mobei Jun, sitting on the desk and placing his mate on his lap.

“Fine, I guess. Nothing remarkable happened,” murmured Shang Qinghua, resting his head against his husband’s shoulder. He was telling the truth, but he felt slightly guilty, as if he were lying by omission. Which he pretty much was. The whole conversation with Cucumber bro replayed in his mind like an annoying woodpecker trying to open up his skull.

Mobei Jun peeked at his expression and kissed his forehead thoughtfully.

“Did someone disrespect you in any way?” he cautiously asked. He had stayed away from the Peak to give Shang Qinghua some space to settle, but he had been worrying the entire morning. He knew just how popular Empress Shen was in his sect, and how little they all thought of Shang Qinghua. It wouldn’t be too strange to assume that some tense situations might have come to happen during the ceremonies.

“Not really. They were all exceedingly polite. Irritatingly so. You know, how people are polite to you when they are afraid you’ll rip their heads off? But in a different way that says that everyone will eagerly wait for me to fuck up .”

Mobei Jun frowned. Shang Qinghua only indulged in that outlandish dialect of his when he was overly stressed. He wrapped both arms tightly around his thin waist.

“Nobody wants you to fail,” he assured, even if he didn’t quite believe it himself. Those damn, two-faced cultivator vipers. 

Despite the peace truce, despite being in close contact with the cultivation world, despite being actually married to a cultivator, Mobei Jun had his own strong opinions about them.

He couldn’t care less about their intricate politics or their unexplainable attachment to their flawed sense of righteousness; he could even overlook their pomposity and airs of superiority.

What rubbed him the wrong way was their skill for subtle bullying.

Cultivators despised demons for their savage nature, but had no issue picking on the weak amongst themselves. That alone was impossible to understand for Mobei Jun. Demon as he was, he would simply kill the undeserving and get it over with; all his kind proceeded the same way. They would never waste time and energy long-term torturing weaklings for the sake of it. It made no sense. 

A year into his marriage with Shang Qinghua, he began to understand how deeply the scars ran within his mate. How could an honorable sect turn such a capable, voraciously ambitious creature into an insecure wreck? He had been so desperate to survive his peers back then that he had thrown himself to the feet of a literal demon. It had turned out really, really well both for him and Mobei Jun in the long term, but the point remained the same.

Even his position of Peak Lord wouldn’t protect him from the scorn and abuse of his sect siblings.

He mentally thanked the Universe for the existence of an ally like Empress Shen, but he couldn’t help but admit that he was deeply influenced by the ways of the sect too.

Now that they saw each other regularly and were comfortable enough to relax and drop formalities, he had discovered a Shen Qingqiu much more agreeable and warm than the one he had first met back in the day.

However, as soon as they returned to that damn Peak, the Empress instantly regressed into his old, aloof shell of calm formality as if his life depended on it. 

It was pitiful to see them both so affected by the place they considered their first home and the people who they called their own.

He ran his fingers through Shang Qinghua’s long hair in a comforting motion. He had remained entirely silent, his face hidden in Mobei Jun’s chest.

“Why don’t we go back home?” the demon suggested softly, kissing Shang Qinghua’s head. “You’ve spent long enough here for today. My kingdom will crumble down without my queen.”

The loving compliment had an unexpected effect on Shang Qinghua. He flinched and fretted in Mobei Jun’s arms like a spooked kitten.

“Technically, I’m not a queen,” he muttered, eyes down. 

“Technically.”

“Yes, technically. I mean. We’re not formally married yet. So yeah, technically, I’m not–”

“When you start repeating technically every three words, I know you’re trying to get out from something uncomfortable,” Mobei Jun declared with a half smile. “What troubles you, Qinghua?”

Shang Qinghua hesitated, trying to choose the correct words. No matter how hard his husband tried to reassure him, disappointing Mobei Jun was one of Shang Qinghua’s most persistent inner fears.

“I’m scared… I mean, I’m afraid that… uhm… I wouldn’t make a very good queen,” he said slowly, diverting his gaze.

Mobei Jun frowned. Historically, the reasoning behind his mate’s worries tended to confuse him to no end. It took him some time to process and fully understand the machinations of his complex, sometimes convoluted brain. However, by then, he had more or less developed a system meant to shed light on Qinghua’s mental labyrinths without overwhelming him.

Mobei Jun cleared his throat and began the investigation as softly as he could.

“Why would you think that?”

“Well, for starters, I’m human… and a cultivator at that. I know I’m not very popular among your people.”

“What makes you think you’re not?”

“My king, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone smile at me once since I arrived, with the exception of my lady-in-waiting. And you, of course.”

“Nobody has ever smiled at me either, and I was born and raised there,” Mobei Jun kindly replied, nuzzling him. “That’s just how my race is. And the fact that you’re still alive proves they like you well enough.”

“Nobody would dare harm me while you are around.”

“It’s been less than a year since you moved permanently into the palace, so you’re not yet well-acquainted with the ice demon kind. No matter who you are or who stands beside you, if you cross someone, even slightly, they’ll try to kill you.”

“They’ll risk treason and death just to get rid of a mild annoyance?” exclaimed Shang Qinghua, eyes wide open.

Mobei Jun shrugged.

“We’re not naturally patient, and our peace of mind is sacred.”

“If that’s how it is, I’m surprised you didn’t end me when we first met.”

“I was surprised myself,” admitted Mobei Jun candidly. “But I understood the reason soon enough.”

“Why was it?” teased Shang Qinghua playfully.

“No. No changing the topic. We’re not done discussing this,” retorted Mobei Jun, lightly biting his mate’s earlobe. “You can fish for compliments later. Is your belief in my people’s indifference your only reason to doubt yourself as queen?”

Shang Qinghua sighed in resignation. The more time they spent together, the harder it got to trick Mobei Jun’s attention away from hard conversations.

“I just don’t know if I’ll be up to your expectations. To everyone’s expectations. I’ve always felt…” he swallowed hard, both anguished and embarrassed. “I’ve always felt that no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough. Things rarely go the way I want unless I get help from others. And it would pain me to no end to be crowned as your queen… and fail you.”

“Is that why you’ve been postponing the wedding?”

“You noticed that?” Shang Qinghua yelped, too surprised to feign ignorance.

“A-Shang, you arranged a massive wedding for a whole empire in less than a month. It’s been almost a year since I proposed, and our guest list only has Binghe and Empress Shen’s names on it, and a doodle of Luo Tianyu riding a very small, deformed horse.”

“It was supposed to be a magical pony.”

“Qinghua.”

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just… I don’t think I’ll be able to do everything that’s expected of me. You were kind enough to accept me as your mate, and Cucumb– Empress Shen trusted me with the reign of his beloved Peak, and– and I can’t have children!”

Mobei Jun blinked. He was pleased with the progress they were making, but that one last completely disconnected bit threw him off entirely.

“Children?” he repeated, baffled.

“You need blood heirs to transfer the Mobei clan’s ancestral martial knowledge and continue the legacy, don’t you? Where are you expecting me to get those from?”

“Qinghua, I never expected you to produce heirs.”

“But you said you wanted children!”

“I want children, but the Mobei legacy has nothing to do with that,” Mobei Jun answered, making a great effort to be as clear as possible. “I just want to raise a family with you. I don’t mind if our children are not biologically related to us.”

“But… the bloodline will end if you don’t have heirs, and– it will all be my fault.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Of course you do; you fought to the death against your uncle to claim the legacy and secure the throne!”

“I’d rather die than have the Mobei legacy passed on to someone undeserving, and he was as worthless as it could be. But when the day comes, as long as the recipient is worthy, the family ancestors will accept them.”

“Oh,” Shang Qinghua muttered, utterly astonished. He didn’t remember writing such a fundamental detail when he outlined Mobei Jun’s side story. Maybe the world he had written had begun taking its own steps outside the boundaries he had set much earlier than he suspected. “That means– then that means…”

“My heir could be anyone. Biological children. Adopted children. I could even pass it on to Luo Tianyu,” Mobei Jun said, actually taking a few moments to consider his own spontaneous idea. “That might be for the best, even. It would make the imperial lineage stronger, and free our child from such a heavy burden.”

Shang Qinghua didn’t reply. He simply kept quiet, deeply lost in thought. Mobei Jun noticed his introspection and smiled faintly. He softly kissed his wife’s cheek.

“No more overthinking. You need to stop assuming the worst and start believing in yourself, as we all do. You’re my mate and the Qing Jing Peak lord because you’re worthy. Don’t let anyone, not even yourself, convince you otherwise.”

Shang Qinghua’s chest was in knots, so he could only nod repeatedly and throw his arms around Mobei Jun’s neck like a repentant child.

“You’re too good for me,” he muttered, his face buried in the demon’s broad shoulder.

“I’m not. I’m exactly your equal. And as I am king, you are queen,” Mobei Jun answered simply. “A crown won’t change the fact that you’ve owned your position since day one. Everyone sees that but yourself. You’ve been ruling by my side. Quite effectively, I’d say.”

Shang Qinghua smiled, relieved, and even got in a playful mood.

“I still don’t see no crown on this head,” he teased.

“And whose fault is that?” taunted Mobei Jun, baring his fangs at him.

“Fine, fine. I won’t procrastinate anymore. I’ll plan our wedding properly. But I need time, A-Xue,” Shang Qinghua said seriously. “I’ll have to settle my business here and get used to everything before I can undertake that mess.”

“We’re in no rush. Would four years from now be an acceptable date for you?”

“Four years? Isn’t that a bit too long?”

“You need time to get settled. I want you to enjoy everything you do, Qinghua. If you feel you’re ready to do it sooner, so be it. Four years is the most I can wait. After that, I’ll drag you to the temple myself.”

“That won’t be necessary, my king,” assured Shang Qinghua, shaking his head with a smile. “Four years is good. That way A-Tian will be old enough to be part of the wedding party.”

“We’ll have to teach him more than basic demonic etiquette if that’s the case.”

Shang Qinghua smirked in delight and kissed his husband’s lips a little more eagerly than advisable. The demon reacted instantly, nearly tearing down his mate’s new fancy Peak Lord teal robes.

“Why are you so eager to do it here?” Shang Qinghua laughed, gladly humoring Mobei Jun this time.

“I’ve heard this location is highly enjoyable.”

“Good lord, what nonsense has Binghe put into your head? What is it with demons and Qing Jing Peak?”

“Probably the idea of defiling the holy grounds of those righteous cultivators. Or maybe it’s the bamboo. The scent is somewhat intoxicating.”

So bamboo was like demonic horny catnip? That would explain a few things.

“Whatever it is, let’s make the most of it,” giggled Shang Qinghua, teasingly laying down on his brand-new, freshly polished desk. “I have a Peak Lord meeting in–”

He couldn’t finish as a pair of hungry, cold lips enthusiastically captured his mouth.

Chapter Text

"If I invite the new lord of the Viper tribe, his wives and elders, and I really think I should… yeah, that would put our guest numbers in the triple digits."

Shang Qinghua wrote down a series of names in his planner and underlined them with deep red ink. The guest list had evolved from Shen Qingqiu, Luo Binghe, and a doodle of Luo Tianyu riding a pony, to a very robust collection of eminent invitees that had already taken up three whole pages. Shen Qingqiu raised a skeptical eyebrow as his friend revised the last update.

"Why on Earth would you invite the Viper tribe? Our husbands massacred half their village and beheaded their leader.”

"It would be a nice gesture to restore the peace. The new Chief is younger and much more approachable than his father. May he rest in peace."

"May he rot in hell. That bastard organized a load of riots to oppose my marriage to Binghe. A lot of demons died because of his bigotry against humans. If he were still alive, he’d probably take action to prevent you from becoming crown Queen too.”

"Fair enough. Still, my point stands, Cucumber bro. Out with the old, in with the new. The new Chief is a smart kid. He knows his people are vulnerable and he’s eager to get in Mobei Jun’s good graces. A truce with him would mean a grand opportunity to secure a steady inflow of valuable medical supplies for our kingdom, and through us, the Capital, and through the Capital, the rest of the empire. The Viper village is small, but they are the only ones able to produce antidotes potent enough to cure necrosis. And do you perhaps remember that lil’ problem we have with necrosis these days?”

Shen Qingqiu frowned, pressing his temples with a hand.

“Obsidian scorpions. Right. I have to admit it would be a great relief to get our hands on those antidotes until we control the plague. There are more and more case reports every day. Those damn things are reproducing like hellish bunnies.”

“See? It all works out. Everyone’s happy. The Viper tribe is revindicated, peace and internal commerce are invigorated, and we get to save a ton of literally rotting sick demons. All for the simple price of a wedding invite.”

Shen Qingqiu took a long look at his friend. 

“Master Airplane, this is the most depressing wedding-planning session ever.”

“We’re royals, bro. Remember Gandhi’s words: With great power comes great responsibility. ”

“That was Spiderman’s uncle, dude.”

“Potato, potato. Look, we’re gonna have to spend half the evening mingling with a bunch of boring, influential people anyway. We might as well get something out of it.”

Shang Qinghua closed his wedding planner, which was slowly turning into the thickest book he’d ever worked on, and crossed his legs with a tenacious air.

Shen Qingqiu smirked, slowly rocking the sleeping Luo Tianyu in his arms.

“What’s so funny?” asked Shang Qinghua, tilting his head.

“I was just thinking that you’d make a much better Empress than I’ll ever be,” he declared, smiling mockingly. “You were so reluctant to even think about becoming a proper queen, and here you are, handling politics like you eat melon seeds.”

“I’m just trying to make Mobei Jun’s life easier,” Shang Qinghua said, blushing a bit. “For such a smart guy, he’s not exactly a diplomatic fellow. He gets into so much trouble with his usual method of obliterating whatever doesn’t work as he wants.”

“Binghe’s the same,” declared Shen Qingqiu, with a heartfelt sigh. “I swear we have to suppress riots every other day. I’m still pissed at him for last week’s incident.”

“Aw, cut him some slack, bro. The dissidents were about to invade the palace lands.”

“He nearly missed A-Tian’s second birthday!” Shen Qingqiu claimed, vexed. “We had to cut his party short.”

“A fact which the prince will bitterly remember for the rest of his life,” solemnly teased Shang Qinghua. “Oh, no, wait, he can’t. He hasn’t developed long-term memories yet. Nor awareness of social context.”

Shen Qingqiu gave him the finger and frowned dejectedly.

“Luo Tianyu might not remember, but I certainly will,” he said stubbornly. “None of it would have happened if Binghe and Mobei Jun handled things a bit more carefully. No matter how OP they are, they shouldn’t just settle political conflicts with kicks and punches.”

“They are indeed two bellicose peas in a pod,” Shang Qinghua sighed, resting his head on the back of the chair. “You’re right, bro. This is bumming me out. Enough planning for today. Wanna eat something?”

Shen Qingqiu lit up and perked up at the offer but slumped down almost immediately. 

“Binghe asked me to go pick him up for lunch after today’s session of imperial audiences,” he said dejectedly. His stomach was rumbling. Breastfeeding had reawakened his old wolfish appetite, and it took a massive caloric intake to satisfy the imperial baby.

“That’s gonna take a while, man. Shuang Xue told me they had a ton of callers lined up for today.”

“We could go wait for them. They’ll surely wrap things up faster if they know we are lurking outside of the conference room. We should go someplace nice, maybe in the human realm. I could use a break from demonic spices. I swear I must be lactating jalapeño sauce by now.”

“Why. Why do you have to talk about your edible bodily fluids,” whined Shang Qinghua, wincing hard. “But yeah, let’s. It’s been a while since we went on a double date.”

“Never before have we done such a thing.”

“It’s never too late to start. Come on, Your Imperial Highness, hoist that royal ass already.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not carrying a forty-pound bundle of joy around,” Shen Qingqiu groaned, making a great effort to stand up without breaking his spine or waking up the baby.

“Forty?! What the hell are you feeding him?”

“Actually, now that you ask, Mu-shidi ran some analysis on my breastmilk, and he discovered that–”

“Shen Yuan. NO. Let's go.”

Chu Hua and Xin Li stood up immediately, but Shang Qinghua told them to stay put.

“It’s fine, girls,” he said with a smile. “We can handle it. We’ll call you if we need anything. Stay here and rest for a while.”

Both ladies-in-waiting accepted the offer with clear gratitude on their faces. At two, Luo Tianyu was becoming an unstoppable handful, and the demonesses had been naturally promoted to honorary nannies by the prince himself, who had shown a marked preference for pretty girls since the cradle.

Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu walked leisurely to the main conference room of the imperial palace. They stopped by the door when they heard several energetic voices resonating from the inside.

“They aren’t done yet,” sighed Shen Qingqiu. “Fuck, I’m starving. We should have brought some snacks. Shall we go back to the nursery and get some?”

Shang Qinghua rolled his eyes. He was no stranger to Cucumber bro’s cravings. He’d get fussy in no time.

“Let’s send someone to announce us and get in,” he suggested, gesturing at a nearby guard. “There’s bound to be something to eat for the visitors there. We can wait on the sidelines. Come on, bro.”

“Concubines!”

The word rumbled from the depths of the conference room with such vehemence that it clearly echoed in the adjacent waiting hall.

Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu were startled, stopped in their tracks, and exchanged a perplexed look.

The guard Shang Qinghua had called approached them to ask for their orders, but Shen Qingqiu raised a hand to shut him up before he opened his mouth. The demon bowed respectfully and went back to his station by the door.

Both the Empress and the Queen of the Northern Lands unceremoniously pressed their ears against the conference room door before the uneasy stares of the palace guards.

“As our lord Mobei Jun requested, we have selected some of the best beauties in our kingdoms to present to Your Royal Majesties. Come forth, girls.”

Shen Qingqiu gasped as they heard the distinct sound of high heels on the marble floors.

“What the fuck is going on in there,” he whispered, bewildered. “Binghe didn’t mention any of this to me. Did Mobei Jun…?”

“Fuck no, he didn’t,” muttered Shang Qinghua, biting his lip nervously. “These damn doors are so thick; I can’t hear shit.”

Shen Qingqiu took a few steps back and resolutely turned to the palace guards, who tensed up instantly.

“You are all dismissed,” he ordered with a deep frown.

The guards stared at him in disbelief. Was he truly asking to leave the conference room unguarded in the presence of foreign visitors?

“Uhm, Your Highness, if I may…” awkwardly began the captain of the Imperial Guard.

“Whatever it is, you may not,” dryly interrupted Shen Qingqiu, using his best severe teacher’s voice. “Have I not made myself clear? You are all dismissed.”

Since he was crowned, Shen Qingqiu had been forced to morph his usual poser act into an imposing royal act; demons were an unruly kind, and aloof badassery could only get you so far in the imperial palace no matter how married one was to the Emperor.

He had become so proficient at this charade of dignified authority that he managed to project an air of domineering threat even while holding a chubby infant in his arms.

The captain of the guard swallowed his words, bowed deeply, and promptly herded his men out of the room.

As soon as they were entirely alone in the waiting hall, Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu darted to the door and opened it slightly, just enough to peek inside without it being noticeable.

What they saw sent a shiver down their spines.

A true cohort of breathtakingly beautiful demonesses, dolled up from head to toe, stood tall in a line before the imperial throne.  

Mobei Jun slowly walked around the captivating group, examining each girl with great interest; Luo Binghe smirked and shook his head indulgently.

“Are they to your tastes, General?” he asked, mockery in his voice.

“They’ll do,” declared Mobei Jun. His answer elicited a choir of relieved sighs from the girls and the satisfied smiles of the dignitaries.

“We are very glad that our beauties please the General,” said one of the partisans. “And rest assured that these are all authentic princesses, firstborns of noble blood families, entirely unblemished and highly fertile.”

“We guarantee that the Emperor and the General will be blessed with high-quality offspring in no time, no matter which mares they choose.”

Shang Qinghua gasped and bit on his lip so hard it bled.

“Are you hearing this shit?” he panted. He was so upset that his heart began racing in his chest.

“High-quality offspring?” Shen Qingqiu seethed, hugging his son tight against his chest. “Oh, hell no. I’m gonna go in there and kick their asses so hard my foot’s gonna come out their nostrils–”

“No, wait, bro, wait,” furiously whispered Shang Qinghua, holding him back. “Let’s hear some more. This has to be a misunderstanding.”

However, Shang Qinghua’s feeble efforts to be calm and collected crumbled as the audience continued.

“Are you perhaps implying that my son is not up to your standards?” asked Luo Binghe with a terrifyingly charming smile.

The demon realized the implication of what he had said and broke into a cold sweat.

“No, my lord, I would never–”

“Oh, I was confused then. Maybe you meant to say my child’s blood is impure? You know, me being a halfling? And my wife a human?”

“My lord, no! I wouldn’t dare insult the crown prince nor the esteemed Empress,” begged the demon, trembling like a leaf.

One of the older dignitaries scoffed under his breath. The motion was subtle, but it did not escape the emperor’s sharp gaze.

“It seems the venerable elder has something to say?” politely asked Luo Binghe, with a wide smile that fully uncovered his fangs.

“If I may be so bold, I do have something I wish to say,” said the demon, clearing his throat and taking a step forth with great parsimony. “Speaking plainly, my lord, it is always better to be safe than sorry. The Empire deserves a second prince born from a union between His Highness and a full-fledged, noble-blooded demoness. Just in case, in the future, the crown prince fails to–”

“You may not,” interrupted Luo Binghe.

“I beg your pardon?” said the elder demon, confused.

“You may not be so bold,” Luo Binghe clarified, standing up.

Before the dignitary managed to gather air to add another word, the emperor flicked his fingers and shot a blast of crimson spiritual energy so scorching it reduced the demon to ashes on the spot.

The demonesses screamed and whimpered, and the partisans jumped away from the smoking pile of demon dust, eyes wide open in terror.

“Good boy, Binghe,” muttered Shen Qingqiu, patting Luo Tianyu’s back with pride.

“My bad, gentlemen,” said the Emperor, leisurely sitting back on his throne. “I suppose I didn’t correctly clarify my stance on concubines when I married my wife. Does anyone else have another suggestion about the matter? I’ll gladly discuss it.”

The entirety of the cohort before him, bridal candidates included, flinched and took a good couple of steps away from him.

“You Highness, please forgive these servants!” pleaded one of the dignitaries, bowing so deeply his spine nearly snapped in half. “We were sorely mistaken. When your spokespeople reached out to us, we assumed both your General and you were expecting bridal candidates.”

“You assumed wrong,” curtly said Luo Binghe. “Only my General is in need of them.”

Shang Qinghua’s heart dropped to his feet. He covered his mouth with a hand.

Shen Qingqiu slowly turned his eyes to him, mouth open and mind blank.

“Bro… uhm… let’s not jump to conclusions, okay?” he meekly said, wracking his brain to find the right words. “Mobei Jun would never–”

Without blinking, Shang Qinghua grabbed his chin and forcibly turned Shen Qingqiu’s head towards the door, urging him to look back inside.

Mobei Jun walked directly through the demon ashes on the floor and stood still before the group of demonesses.

“I’ll take them all,” he announced. He circled the group one more time and pointed at one of the girls.

“All but you,” he corrected himself. “You’re too tall. Out.”

“My apologies, my lord,” said one of the demons, hastily pulling away the pouting demoness. “Your spokesman did tell us the candidates should be of a small build. But this princess comes from an exceptional lineage, you see, her father is–”

“Save it,” interrupted Luo Binghe with a crooked smile full of meaning. “Lord Mobei Jun has a taste for petite frames.”

Mobei Jun growled in warning. Luo Binghe chuckled and raised his hands apologetically.

“I have to get out of here,” whispered Shang Qinghua. He felt sick and dizzy. He feared he’d end up fainting for real this time.

“Qinghua, wait, maybe he’s not–” began Shen Qingqiu, desperately trying to find an explanation for what had just happened.

However, before he could come up with something that calmed Shang Qinghua down, Mobei Jun opened a portal. The frozen energy expansion that filled the room clearly demonstrated that the rift led to the Northern Kingdom.

“Your Highness, I’ll take them to my private office,” he informed Luo Binghe. “I’ll show them the ropes and get them ready to meet my queen.”

“Fine. Don’t worry. The Queen is busy with my wife; you’ll have plenty of time to do your thing.”

With a quick nod, Mobei Jun gestured at the girls to cross to his domains, which they obediently did in complete silence. He then jumped in himself and was soon out of sight.

The second the portal closed and disappeared, Shang Qinghua felt that all life pulse had been drained from his body.

Both Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu remained still, frozen in place, entirely silent, and unable to formulate a word or entertain a single coherent thought.

Luo Tianyu chose that precise moment to wake up and realize he was hungry. He tugged at his mother’s robes, whining.

Shen Qingqiu was too shocked to notice his son’s polite attempts to get his attention, so the imperial prince, cranky, sleepy and starving, buried his head in his mother’s chest, bared his fangs, and bit with all he had.

The sudden sting took Shen Qingqiu by surprise; he whelped loudly and jumped, accidentally hitting the door with his elbow.

The doors slammed open, exposing the two eavesdroppers to the party gathered inside the conference room.

In the sight of the Empress and the Queen, everyone stood in petrified silence; the deafening quietness was only interrupted by Luo Tianyu’s irritated weeping.

Luo Binghe got as pale as a ghost; both Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua looked distraught. The emperor did the math quickly and realized he and Mobei Jun were in hot water.

“Out,” he ordered the demon dignitaries, mouth dry.

“But, Your Highness, lord Mobei Jun hasn’t confirmed which girls he’ll keep yet–”

“I said out !”

The demons scattered in a hurry as Luo Binghe jumped down from his throne and rushed to the door.

The motion made Shang Qinghua snap out of it; he took several steps backward in a panic. He needed to process what he had just witnessed; the last thing he wanted was to succumb to Luo Binghe’s proficient deception skills. He did not want to hear whatever excuses he’d spill for the sake of Mobei Jun.

Shen Qingqiu seemed to understand his feelings; he turned to Luo Binghe and raised a hand with a look of warning so formidable that the almighty demon Emperor stopped in his tracks and remained obediently in place, fretting like a scolded puppy.

“Go to the nursery,” said Shen Qingqiu, patting Shang Qinghua’s shoulder. “Send Chu Hua and Xin Li away. I will be there shortly. I promise nobody will disturb you. Go, come on.”

“Don’t let him– bro, don’t let him–,” weakly stuttered Shang Qinghua.

“I won’t let him call Mobei Jun,” promised Shen Qingqiu, guessing his thoughts again. “Go.”

Shang Qinghua nodded, unable to say another word, and dashed away.

Shen Qingqiu let out a tired sigh and slowly turned back to his husband, murder in his eyes.

“Shizun, I can explain,” whined Luo Binghe, approaching his wife carefully.

“I don’t want to hear it,” said Shen Qingqiu with forced calm. Luo Binghe shivered; it had been long since his wife last adopted his old dignified cultivator shield. “A-Tian is hungry. I’m going to the nursery.”

“But Shizun–”

“I said I don’t want to hear it,” warned Shen Qingqiu, resolutely walking away. “And don’t you dare alert Mobei Jun, you hear me, Luo Binghe? If I find out you did, I swear I’ll take A-Tian and move back to Cang Qiong Mountain before sunset.”

It was the first time Luo Binghe heard such a solemn threat; he panicked and helplessly reached out to grab Shen Qingqiu’s arm.

Before he managed to touch him, Luo Tianyu quickly climbed up Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder and resolutely bit his father’s hand.

“A-Tian!” whined Luo Binghe, vexed.

“Good boy,” praised Shen Qingqiu, patting the baby’s back. The child growled menacingly at his father and curled back into the nest of his mother’s arms, satisfied with his feat.

Alone and dejected in the hallways of his own palace, demonic Emperor Luo Binghe cursed Mobei Jun and indulged in a round of solitary weeping.

Chapter Text

Shang Qinghua burst into the nursery, slamming the door against the wall with such strength that several decorative trinkets fell down and crashed on the floor.

Chu Hua and Xin Li, who had been dozing off by the window, jumped off their seats and clumsily rushed to him.

“Your Highness, what’s wrong?”

“Are you ill?”

Shang Qinghua had entirely forgotten that the ladies-in-waiting were still in there. He stared at them blankly with eyes wide open, startled as a deer in the headlights.

“My queen, please say something,” begged Xin Li, panicked. Her master was breathing rapidly and didn’t seem to recognize them at all. “Chu Hua, quick, call someone!”

The threat of adding more people to the equation helped Shang Qinghua snap out of it. He shook his hands with energy and tried to talk, but his throat was so dry that only a hoarse yelp came out. He swallowed forcefully and tried again, doing his best to regain a bit of composure.

“That won’t be necessary. I’m fine,” he lied, with a smile so tense it looked like a grimace of pain. “Please, girls, I need to be alone. Go to the empress’ quarters, we’ll call you later.”

The demonesses hesitated, exchanged a worried look, bowed lightly, and tactfully left without prying any further. As soon as they were out, they hurried to find the Empress.

Shang Qinghua found himself all alone in the nursery. Painfully agitated, he threw himself on the nearest armchair.

He landed on one of the prince’s toys, a favorite of his; a quite big, huggable handmade version of Bao Bao, the bamboo-eating pet monster of Qing Jing Peak. The junior disciples had made it themselves as a gift to the baby, with the patient help of Ning Yingying. Shang Qinghua took the plushie into his arms and squeezed it for dear life, burying his face on the soft fabric.

Even though the toy nearly exploded under the pressure of the desperate hug, Shang Qinghua’s heart rate began to slow down a bit. 

He took in the gentle scent of the stuffed animal. The disciples had filled it with different types of dry herbs and seeds from Can Qiong Mountain; rumor has it that even Liu Qingge had contributed a bag of perfumed blossoms that only grew on the highest hills of Bai Zhan Peak and were quite difficult to get. The thing was lovingly crafted to provide comfort.

After a few minutes, Shang Qinghua emerged from toy Bao Bao’s belly and took a deep breath.

His violent internal turmoil subsided slightly, leaving room for a strange type of numbness that swallowed his mind.

Shang Qinghua stopped thinking. He looked around blankly.

The room was enchanting; the light from the warm fireplace made the crystals and talismans that covered the walls and the decorative trinkets hanging from the ceiling gleam with an outlandish brilliance, projecting colorful shades everywhere.

There were charming playthings all around; handmade pieces crafted by skilled artisans from the two realms. There was also a comprehensive collection of stuffed animals and even a set of comical fluffy versions of demonic beasts, all sitting very politely in colorful groups placed on every corner.

Luo Tianyu’s den was frankly beautiful, warm and homely, and Shang Qinghua loved spending time there. He had made most of his wedding planning there, in the reassuring, affectionate company of Shen Qingqiu and Luo Tianyu. It was one of his safe spaces in the world.

However, the cozy room had a very different effect on him then.

He began to feel a pained knot in his chest that overflowed when his wandering gaze fell on the empty cradle before him.

He felt the familiar burn of weeping creeping up his throat.

Shang Qinghua was no fool, he entirely understood the implications of a monarch taking concubines. They existed to secure offspring in case the first wife was unable to bear children. And legitimate heirs were fundamental to secure the political stability of a country and the continuity of the royal family’s heritage.

A king without an heir was bound to face violent opposition and defiance sooner or later, no matter how strong and domineering he was. Moreso when said king had not only a crown to pass, but a remarkable martial legacy that would empower the one in charge beyond words.

The pressure was brutal. Luo Binghe himself had been on the verge of facing a civil war when he announced he had no intention to start a harem after taking a male wife. Several assassination attempts against the Empress had been uncovered and neutralized before the System’s merciful intervention got Cucumber bro knocked up. 

Even with a legitimate crown prince born from the imperial couple, there were still frequent failed coups and hostile manifestations against the heir, given how he was of mixed blood.

If not even Luo Binghe’s overpowered gold finger could permanently crash and silence the dissidents, what was left for Mobei Jun?

Despite his stubborn denial, Mobei Jun needed a blood heir. And furthermore, he wanted a family of his own. They had briefly talked about it. Concubines were the logical, easiest solution. Besides, monogamy and exclusive devotion were concepts that had evolved and become dominant in the modern world. He knew that one man hoarding multiple companions under his roof was nothing out of the ordinary back then. He himself had given Bing-ge a collection of wives as abundant as a prosperous farmer's cattle.

He could understand that. Of course he could. 

Accepting it was a whole different story.

The sole idea of Mobei Jun becoming intimate with someone else turned him stomach, but what truly scared him was the possibility of him developing an emotional attachment.

Despite his aloof, vacant attitude, Shang Qinghua knew how soft his husband’s heart was. He was a true sweetheart with Luo Tianyu, in his own demonic rough way; how could he not feel gratitude and respect for the one who’d make him a father, the woman who'd become the mother of his children? How could that strong foundation not evolve into something deeper?

Shang Qinghua felt he had nothing to offer. Nothing that justified even putting up a fight. His old fears and insecurities, buried but not dead, easily resurfaced upon command.

It was what it was. He had never considered himself a suitable match for Mobei Jun. He simply had stumbled into this unusual love they shared out of sheer survival instinct.

He hadn’t written himself into the novel, not even as a self-insert side character, because he honestly felt there was not a place for him there.

And the worst part was that he couldn’t keep fooling himself.

He too wanted children. He truly did. He wanted to raise a family with Mobei Jun. What had started as a reluctant concession to humor his husband’s wishes had slowly turned into a need within him, a deep urge that sometimes got him lost in thought and cravings that kept him up at night.

He felt strongly inclined toward adoption, and had actually been sorting out his feelings and ideas about it to have a serious conversation with Mobei Jun after the wedding, when he had witnessed his husband herding an assembly of highly fertile females into his private parlor.

Agitation had given way to grief, and now grief opened the door to anger.

He was a reasonable fellow. He understood politics probably even better than Mobei Jun himself. He was aware of his own limitations. Given enough time, he’d probably be able to reconcile with the idea of sharing his spouse, and even maybe befriend the consorts and concubines himself; his palace was, after all, quite lonely without Shen Qingqiu around, and he couldn’t really call any of his sect siblings as friends . Fuck, he would even be willing to take the lead role of the TV drama and claim his rightful place as Madam of the harem, and help raise the communal children in cheerful sorority. He’d find the charm in it. If there was a silver lining, Shang Qinghua was naturally programmed to find it; he would survive, and even strive to enjoy himself while at it.

He could have eventually made his peace with all of it, if Mobei Jun hadn’t acted behind his back.

It was so-damn- infuriating.

Finding out the way he had. Eavesdropping like an intruder. Suffering the humiliation of hearing Luo BInghe’s jokes. Bearing the painfully nonchalant air of his husband while he assessed the girls as if measuring the potential of their hips and thighs. It had been a fucking spoonful of led down his throat.

The more he thought about it, now that his mind was a bit clearer, the more reasons he found to stir himself up even further.

Just how long had this been going on? It was not like the bridal candidates had been spontaneously picked up from the streets. He recognized many of the dignitaries. An imperial envoy, no, several imperial envoys had been sent out to the most important kingdoms to inform the monarchs they were required to scout pure-blooded princesses.

Mobei Jun must have had planned the entire thing thoroughly for weeks, and not only that; he had recruited the emperor to pull it off. And what a precious friend Luo Binghe had been, going as far as to keep the secret from Shen Qingqiu as well! He hoped Cucumber bro forced him on a decade-long dry spell, may the imperial dick rot and fall down out of lack of use. 

And– and– did he get a kick out of sneaking around? Going as far as holding that infamous nuptial recruitment while Shang Qinghua was in the fucking palace himself, just a couple of rooms away? Why not let him stay home and operate freely?

He felt he didn’t know Mobei Jun at all. Whatever illusions he had nurtured about the nature of the person he had bonded with and was about to marry were shattering one after the other in his mind like a box of poorly packed glasses that fell off the FedEx truck.

As Shang Qinghua’s reality crumbled to pieces, a small, faint little voice in the back of his head interrupted his furious mutterings with a timid, ill-timed suggestion: This cannot be. There must be an explanation. Don’t act rashly. He wouldn’t do this to you–

Before the last surviving shred of reason could finish presenting their case, another voice, strong, hoarse, irate and infinitely hurt, screamed all over it.

Oh, wouldn’t he? Then how can you possibly explain what you’ve just seen, uh? And don’t you dare gaslight yourself, Shang Qinghua. Cucumber bro was there and he thought exactly the same as you did. Even in the best case scenario, Mobei Jun hid this from you. He made you a fool in front of others. In front of high-ranked officials from all around the Empire. Remember how they all looked scared shitless when they saw you there? You were not supposed to be there and everyone knew it.

What was the end of it? Once you accept that a person is not at all like you thought they were, an endless galaxy of grim possibilities opens before your eyes. Had Mobei Jun been testing bridal samples on the side, while Shang Qinghua planned their wedding like a veritable asshole? 

Did he love him at all?

Before he began diving deeply into that last terrifying question, the door suddenly opened and the distressed cries of a child echoed in the room.

Shang Qinghua jumped on his seat, dropping toy Bao Bao on the carpet. The plushie was wrinkled and deformed beyond recognition after the brutal session of stress-hugging.

“I’m sorry I took so long, I ran into Chu Hua and Xin Li on the way and spent quite a while calming them down,” Shen Qingqiu said apologetically, hurriedly dropping his upper robes to expose his chest to the wailing baby. Luo Tianyu inmmediately clutched onto his mother with voracity. Shen Qingqiu sighed, grateful for the silence. His son’s lungs had nearly shattered the palace’s windows.

Shen Qingqiu got the child in a comfortable position, crossed his legs, and raised his eyes to Shang Qinghua with a worried expression.

“So… shall we talk about it?” he gently suggested, brows furrowed.

Shang Qinghua stared at him for a long time, his lips tightly pressed. Before Shen Qingqiu could add another word, he blurted out five simple words that carried the crushing weight of his broken heart.

“I want a fucking divorce!”

Chapter Text

The nursery went dead silent, with the exception of Luo Tianyu’s eager suckling noises.

Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu stared at each other long and hard.

“So?” suddenly demanded Shang Qinghua, crossing his arms with something akin to sassy expectation.

Shen Qingqiu blinked.

“So what?”

“Talk me out of it!”

Empress Cucumber straightened his back and shook his head with cold dignity.

“No can do, bro. I’m as pissed as you are,” he declared, patting his baby’s bottom with comical indignation.

“Qingqiu, I’m so upset right now,” whined Shang Qinghua, dropping on the armchair and clutching poor Bao Bao back into his arms. “What the hell, man!”

“Indeed,” agreed Shen Qingqiu, mouth twisted in a tense grimace. “Those two are in for the ass-beating of a lifetime.”

“Yeah, right. As if I could kick Mobei Jun’s ass. And your masochist of a husband would probably enjoy it.”

“Nevermind that,” said Shen Qingqiu, shaking his hand dismissively. “Whatever happened in there, they hid that bridal shit from both of us, and that’s messed up on so many levels. I for one fucking hate when Binghe pulls this crap on me, and he knows it well. They better have a good explanation for it.”

“You didn’t talk to Binghe?” asked Shang Qinghua, with a faint trace of hope in his voice. Anger had suddenly passed the torch back to sadness. He realized he’d even welcome one of the emperor’s elaborate lies as long as he stopped feeling that bitter black hole in his chest.

“He tried, but I was too pissed to listen properly. And then A-Tian bit him, so that pretty much settled things for a while.”

“He bit him?” 

“Yeah. He always takes my side when we quarrel, don’t you, little imp?” answered Shen Qingqiu, smiling tenderly at his son. The view made Shang Qinghua’s heart ache.

“I get why he needs the concubines,” he said slowly, resting his chin on the stuffed animal. “I just wish they weren’t so… I mean, I wish I was more… ah, shit. They were so fucking beautiful, man! I don’t stand a chance.”

He buried his face in the plushie. Shen Qingqiu stared at him with a complicated expression. He debated whether to take a deep breath, bite back his outrage, and offer sound, objective advice, or simply jump to his friend’s side and tell the entire world to go fuck itself and watch it burn. 

Unwilling to go for either option, he opted for a measured compromise.

“Why don’t you go back to Cang Qiong Mountain for a few days?” he suggested, doing his best to sound reassuring. “A change of air would do you well. Some distance will help you put your ideas in order. When you are calmer, you can talk to Mobei Jun.”

“Sounds good, but I don’t think I can handle sect pleasantries at the moment, bro,” weakly said Shang Qinghua, biting his lip. The idea of running away was tempting, but fleeing the oppressive reality of the demon realm to hide in the oppressive reality of his many Peak Lord’s obligations was not a mind-calming bargain.

“You wouldn’t go in an official capacity; they are not expecting us for another fortnight anyway,” retorted Shen Qingqiu. “You’ve learned how to open portals, right? Just jump into your lodging unannounced and stay there for a while. As long as you avoid Ming Fan and Ning Yingying, nobody will know you’re there.”

Shang Qinghua hesitated.

“I– I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Fair enough. A-Tian and I will go with you,” said Shen Qingiu decidedly.

“But… uhm…”

“Master Airplane, out with it,” pressed Shen Qingqiu, raising an eyebrow when he realized his friend was intentionally stalling. 

Shang Qinghua covered his face in embarrassment.

“Mobei Jun gets so very upset when I leave,” he blurted out. Even in his fragile state of mind, even when he felt wronged and irate, he couldn’t bear to hurt the demon again like that. “Don’t judge me.”

Shen Qingqiu puffed his chest and nearly spilled a colorful selection of not-so-kind suggestions about what Mobei Jun could do with himself, but he took a deep breath and tried to be as empathetic as his indignation allowed him.

“I understand. But honestly, bro, I don’t think you’re in a good place right now. You guys need to talk, but you have to calm down first. And I don’t think you’ll be able to do so here… or in your palace.”

He gave Shang Qinghua a look full of meaning. Shang Qinghua understood instantly. The imperial palace was Binghe’s den, who’d be desperate to jump on him upon sight to try to fix the situation, and the Northern palace was… well… probably hosting an orgy right then.

That last thought ignited the spark of anger in Shang Qinghua one more time.

“Screw it, you’re right,” he exclaimed, jumping up. “You get A-Tian ready to travel. I have something to do first.”

He raised his hands, focused spiritual energy, and opened a narrow portal, just big enough for him to bend down and jump through.

“What are you gonna do?” yelped Shen Qingqiu, alarmed.

“I’m not running away again,” he said bitterly. “I’m gonna find him, interrupt his little shag fest, and let him know I’m going the fuck away until I feel like putting up with his crap.”

“Wait–”

Before Shen Qingqiu hoisted his son and stood up, his friend had crossed the portal and vanished.

The second he crossed the rift, Shang Qinghua fell on his ass from a considerable height. Mobei Jun had just recently taught him how to operate portals, and he was still working on placing the spiritual gates in the correct coordinates to avoid accidents. It required extreme focus and clear visualization of the destination grounds.

As things were, he had pulled the portal out of his ass, taken by a fit of rage; the rift had opened far from the floor, nearly touching the ceiling, and Shang Qinghua had been propelled into the ground like a newborn giraffe.