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Shen Mei took one look at the two men standing at the door and blinked, stunned. Tall, handsome beyond compare, imperial… and in full cosplay. Their attention to detail was astounding—better than most of the dramas she watched, to be honest. She recognized the pair immediately, somehow finding it within herself to giggle at them. Oh, holy shit. Well, they had to be here for the two nerds locked up in one of the family’s guest rooms, right? So, she drew a hand up to her mouth to stifle that fleeting amusement, completely missing Luo Binghe’s attempt at a polite, gentlemanly greeting. Instead, Shen Mei composed herself shortly after and waved him off.
“Hold on, one sec.”
Shen Mei drew a breath; turning away away from her guests, she yelled:
“San-ge! Your boyfriend is here!!”
Said “boyfriend” was one-part offended—he was a husband, thank you—and two-parts bewildered by the smug aura emanating from the minuscule teenaged…sister?… standing between them and entry into the Shen household. Though, the latter statement didn’t last for long; immeasurably pleased by her declaration, Shen Mei listened for the sound of the guest room door opening and then quickly ushered the two demons inside to wait for her precious elder brother to arrive. If he took too long, she’d simply have to yell again. Don’t think she wouldn’t!
“Sorry, he and um… Feiji have been really busy.” Shen Mei explained. Yes, she still called him Airplane despite everything. And perhaps because she’d never asked for a real name. “You must be friends of theirs, right? Um, well if you aren’t, then this is super awkward, but—”
Pretty sure. Why else would they have Proud Immortal Demon Way cosplayers at their door, if not to hang out with the Author and his favourite hater? She just wished her dearest brother would have said something sooner! She could have roasted him better! Damn it, she could have prepared! Totally unfair. Then again, if this was for more than just hanging out… well, she’d just have to roast him for that, too! (She couldn’t believe that her brother would use their parent’s money for such extravagant, niche entertainment, though. He truly had changed, huh?)
As it was, Shen Yuan, with Airplane in tow, made his appearance before Luo Binghe had time to properly respond to the question. They both looked startlingly perplexed, vexed even—and that was even before sighting Luo Binghe and Mobei-Jun!—lingering at the edge of the room as if there was an arrow pointing to Airplane with the moniker‘Shen Yuan’s boyfriend’ written clear as day upon it. His boyfriend was already–?
Wait. Hold on.
They noticed.
“Shizun!” Luo Binghe yelped, recognising the face staring at him from the days of Shen Qingqiu’s Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom body. Yet, this recognition did nothing to assuage Shen Yuan’s confusion—nor his embarrassment, recollecting the way in which he’d been summoned from his work. Um. Hello?
“Binghe…?” As in, Luo Binghe? As in— What.
Meanwhile, Mobei-Jun settled on staring intently at the unfamiliar face next to Shen Yuan, discerning. Trying to. Was it or was it not..? His brow furrowed, scrutinizing the physique of the poor, chubby—albeit not unattractive, suppose—shut-in of an author. Airplane wilted bashfully under his cold gaze, but could not pry his own away; unconsciously, he even hovered a few steps closer. He’d seen Mobei-Jun cosplayers before—even went out of his way to look for pictures—but this was… extraordinary. Luo Binghe, too, but he was far less interesting at the moment.
Airplane, as always, had priorities.
“Did— Please don’t tell me my sister invited you here.” Shen Yuan tried to smooth out his expression, casting a glance her way. Brushing through his bangs, a hint of flustered exasperation tinted his body language regardless.
“Me? I thought they were your friends,” Shen Mei defended, adding inaudibly: Or escorts…
“Shizun,” Binghe tried again, a flash of worry marring his formerly composed nature. It could only get worse from there. So, he whined, striding forward to close the gap between them. Surely, it would help if Shen Yuan got a better look at him, right? He insisted, verging on pleading. “You don’t.. remember me? I’m your husband.”
This caught Airplane’s attention, snapping from his daze to genially mock his boyfriend. “Wow, Shen-bro, when were you going to tell me about this? I didn’t know you were already married! I’m hurt!”
“I’m not!” Shen Yuan retorted, thrusting yet another icy dagger into Luo Binghe’s chest. Upon seeing such a pained expression, he immediately recanted, instinct guiding his hand to rest upon Binghe’s head (a difficult task considering their new and improved height-difference, but his alleged husband leaned down to accommodate). There, there. Please don’t look at him like that! Please don’t— get any closer! Help. “I don’t think I am? You’re not—”
What was he saying?? Luo Binghe wasn’t even real! Yet, the giant of a man gazed at him with such sorrowful conviction that those words dried up immediately, never to be spoken. He swallowed, “You’re not mistaking me for someone else, are you…?”
“This disciple would recognize Shizun anywhere.” That fact was provenly false. But romantic. Shen Yuan flushed, startling backward a full step as Luo Binghe softly pressed a palm against his cheek. Yet, he would not allow Shen Yuan a second step, even as he reverted from petting to pushing Luo Binghe away. Never mind their audience, the demon lord gripped his husband with a free hand, holding him roughly in place as if that would somehow facilitate recalling lost memories. Then, simply, he claimed Shen Yuan’s soft lips with his own.
After all, Luo Binghe was used to Shen Qingqiu’s many false denials, thinking little of Shen Yuan’s. He had to remember. He had to. Though, even so, Luo Binghe dared not go further than a single stolen kiss for now. Shizun would be angry…
Airplane’s feelings toggled between jealousy and amusement at the sight of it. Hey, that’s mine… his inner voice called out. Not that he had any chance if Shen Yuan and— Luo Binghe? A cosplayer? Really were a couple. Somehow. To distract himself, Airplane returned his attention to the duo of Mobei-Jun and Shen Mei. He asked, “Um, forgive me for asking, but Mei-Mei really didn’t pay you guys to do this, right?”
“She did not.” Mobei-Jun answered, to the accompaniment of ‘See, I told you!’ somewhere off to his left. Well, alright then. So, if this wasn’t Shen Yuan’s idea—which, judging by the less-than-consensual kissing and fussing going on, probably not—and it wasn’t HIS idea, then it had to be their idea. Yet, that didn’t make much sense, either. Supposing that the pair were simple cosplayers, how and why were they even here?? He was but an author, and Shen Yuan was…
“And you are?” Airplane tried again.
“Mobei-Jun.”
“Oh.” He should have seen that one coming. “I– yes, I see that. My king, what are you doing here?”
Mobei-Jun’s expression brightened almost imperceptibly at those two little words, so reverently applied even for lack of memory. Imploring. Though there had been doubt before, who else could it be? Who else gazed at him so? Thus, having finally reached a verdict, he stated with such affectionate satisfaction (though perhaps he was the only one who could really tell). “Qinghua.”
“Huh?” Airplane blinked. “Well, I guess you can call me that. I can’t stop you. I don’t think I really look like Shang Qinghua, though — and isn’t, didn’t you?”
I should know, I wrote the damn thing.
There’s no way Mobei-Jun should be happy to see Shang Qinghua, right?
“My king, I don’t understand,” he said, continuing to play along. Why not! Well, fuck he knew why not. Yet, his boyfriend was too busy being menaced by Luo Binghe. So, he might as well humour this one, too. Maybe this was a horrible idea, maybe they weren’t really cosplayers or whatever at all! They could be in serious danger. The more Airplane thought about it, the more he couldn’t help feeling that they might be, eyes darting over to Shen Mei. Get out of here! They’re ignoring you!! And if these two don’t kill me, then Shen-bro definitely will if you get hurt!
If only she could hear him. Alas.
“You do not remember, either.” Mobei-Jun sighed. He considered briefly following Luo Binghe’s lead and kissing the man before him; yet Binghe didn’t seem to be getting results, either. So, Mobei-Jun was flummoxed. He could try beating him instead? Yet, a little voice whined from the back of his mind that Shang Qinghua didn’t even enjoy the beatings…
“Afraid not. Are you– are you real?” Airplane grasped at straws. That was the silliest conclusion yet, but suppose he had to set a baseline somewhere. Cosplayers or dangerous? Or maybe this was just an elaborate prank, who knows! He’d like to, though.
Mobei-Jun was puzzled. He’d never been asked that before.
“Er, well, of course you’re real. You’re here. Stupid question. I meant, uh… you’re really dedicated to being in-character, huh.” Airplane continued digging his hole even deeper, rapidly increasing Mobei-Jun’s confusion. This was a new game; though it in part felt a little familiar to him, somehow. Like there was some grand epiphany awaiting Mobei-Jun on the other side of this harrowing bemusement. He reached forward, a frown lightly creasing his lips when Airplane shrank from the touch, but Mobei-Jun was determined. His hand met a head of messy brown hair, petting him just as Shen Yuan had Binghe.
“My king?” Airplane asked in a tiny voice. The hand did not move. It was cold, unusually so. Impossibly so.
Airplane cautiously placed his own hand over it and brought it down for inspection, feeling the chill of something that couldn’t be accounted for by poor circulation alone. It was like holding a block of ice! Yet, there was a pulse and life flowing through it, too. Was he real..? Was that actually possible?
“I am real,” Mobei-Jun affirmed, allowing the manhandling without question. “You are Shang Qinghua – or, perhaps, he is you.”
“Well, actually…” Airplane started to correct, but promptly shut himself up. Hole, no deeper. If this was Mobei-Jun and that was Luo Binghe— er, Luo Binghe did not need to know about being a self-insert. If that was the honest truth, and that was a very exaggerated If. He laughed awkwardly, turning over Mobei-Jun’s hand this way and that. “If you say so, my king. I really don’t know. Though, if that guy over there is Luo Binghe’s husband, then what am–”
“My fiance.” Mobei-Jun supplied.
(Shen Mei, who had only recently retired to a chair some ways away, stifled another cackle. Of them all, she found herself believing them the most… as absurd as that was, sure. Yet, with that said–! What the hell, though?! How come she wasn’t greeted with a beautiful, busty wife or something. Incredibly unfair. Still, there was some frivolous joy to be gained from this. After all, no matter how her brother struggled, he had a dirty little secret just dying for Real-Life Luo Binghe to find out about. So, she schemed.)
“Actually, wait– alright, so I’m Qinghua. Your fiance. We’ve established that, right?” (Mobei-Jun nodded.) “Then… fuck, Binghe called Shen-bro ‘Shizun’, so who the hell is he?!”
Mobei-Jun rather thought Qinghua answered his own question. After all, he was surnamed Shen. Shen-bro. Shen-shizun. Shen Qingqiu. All of this made proper sense to Mobei-Jun and Luo Binghe, who’d finally allowed his dear shizun some space (but only with the promise that Shen Yuan would not try to run). On the other hand, none of it made any damned sense to the two normal, non-demon men in the room. But that was only the men in the room. There was yet a woman – one who was having the epiphany of a lifetime!
“Oh my god,” Shen Mei muttered gleefully from her seat. She nearly bolted upright, brought forth from her scheming with renewed mirth. “Shen Jiu — no, Shen Qingqiu! That’s it, right?”
Shen Yuan balked.