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Each footstep felt like an insurmountable task. He was sweating as he trudged toward the Bai Zhan Peak Lord’s residence, arms heavy by his sides. Vision swimming, Luo Binghe gripped the door frame for support and pressed his qi into the protective arrays. They dissipated, and Luo Binghe slid the door open.
It had been a long time since Luo Binghe felt like this.
The house was dark. Qingge isn’t home yet, Luo Binghe surmised. He kicked off his shoes, uncaring of where they landed, and made his way over to the daybed. It was Liu Qingge’s favourite spot to rest, and as such, was doused in his scent. Luo Binghe picked up a pillow and inhaled deeply. Lemongrass surrounded him, the scent making his shoulders relax as he continued to breathe.
Dinner time was fast approaching. In the back of his mind, Luo Binghe knew that he would have to get up eventually and begin meal prepping, but… Something about today made Luo Binghe feel reluctant to move at all, let alone do something like cook .
Frowning, Luo Binghe stared down at his lap. The hems of his robes were tinged brown-red with some demon subject’s blood. Yet another treaty had gone up in flames. Contrary to popular belief, Luo Binghe didn’t go around killing people whenever he felt like it. Shizun has taught me better than that, Luo Binghe scoffed to himself.
Though Liu Qingge had never been one to fuss over cleanliness, Luo Binghe cast a quick cleaning charm on his clothing and made sure to leave Zheng Yang in the receiving room. From there, he finally managed to drag himself to the kitchen, and began taking ingredients out of their pantry. Chicken, cucumber, rice, ginger… what else? Luo Binghe frowned, setting down the cucumber he was holding on the counter.
I could have sworn I bought more green onion, Luo Binghe fretted, rifling through the qiankun pouch they kept in the pantry to keep fresh ingredients from going bad. When that didn’t bring any success, Luo Binghe squatted down and opened their cupboards. It has to be here. I distinctly remember buying it, he thought fervently.
As Luo Binghe searched through their cupboards, the protective array pulsed briefly, then dissipated. Qingge’s home, Luo Binghe thought, feeling some of his panic subside. “Shizun?” he called, standing up.
“Mmh,” Liu Qingge grunted. Soon, footsteps were making their way toward the kitchen. Luo Binghe, for lack of anything better to do, wiped his hands down on his robes and walked over to the kitchen door.
His Shizun appeared, face covered in smudges of what looked like dirt. Wrinkling his nose, Luo Binghe reached up and swiped away one of the marks with his thumb. Liu Qingge blinked, face slackening as Luo Binghe continued to clean his skin. “Binghe,” Liu Qingge said, after several moments of silence.
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe murmured, feeling the tension of the day seep out of his body. Patting Luo Binghe on the shoulder, Liu Qingge peered around his disciple.
“Dinner?” he questioned, turning back to Luo Binghe.
There was a pause. “This disciple… this disciple started making dinner,” Luo Binghe tried to smile. It came out as more of a grimace. Liu Qingge frowned and walked over to the counter. Swiftly, he cleaned his hands with a burst of qi, then observed the ingredients Luo Binghe had laid out.
“What recipe?” Liu Qingge asked, hands on his hips. Luo Binghe’s eyes were drawn to his Shizun’s lithe form; though Liu Qingge was slender, he was one of the only people that could beat Luo Binghe in a fight. Those that mistook Liu Qingge’s elegant physique as weakness were in for a crushing defeat.
Luo Binghe was brought back out of his thoughts when Liu Qingge prodded him on the arm. It was unbearably cute when his Shizun did things like this, and Luo Binghe had a hard time keeping the sappy grin off his face. He knew that if he expressed his joy at seeing Liu Qingge being touchy, his Shizun would get too embarrassed to engage in skinship with Luo Binghe. That would be terrible.
“Chicken rice,” Luo Binghe answered, staring at the counter. Though it was his favourite meal, the thought of having to do the multitudes of tasks associated with the dish made his heart sink. He had to boil the chicken, and slice the cucumber, and make the chilli sauce, and the dipping sauce, and—
“Take a bath,” Liu Qingge huffed, wrinkling his nose. “You look like death.”
Luo Binghe scowled. “Sorry, Shizun,” he said snippily, “but this disciple has been in court all day and only just got back home. He cannot shower until he makes the evening meal—in case that had slipped your notice,” Luo Binghe added acerbically.
Seemingly unfazed by Luo Binghe’s quip, Liu Qingge ignored his disciple in favour of tying his sleeves back and washing the vegetables Luo Binghe had set out earlier. “Go and take a bath,” Liu Qingge repeated. “I’ll make dinner.”
There were several seconds of silence.
Eventually, Luo Binghe found his voice again. “Shizun?” he said, shoulders sagging. Liu Qingge’s eyes flicked to the side, and he stared at Luo Binghe, hands still washing a stick of ginger.
“That was an order, Luo Binghe,” Liu Qingge intoned. Getting the message, Luo Binghe left the kitchen. He made his way to their bathing room as if in a trance, head fuzzy with the repetition of Liu Qingge’s words.
Go and take a bath. I’ll make dinner.
Luo Binghe did as he was told.
Their bathing room was relatively small; Liu Qingge never bothered to upgrade the Peak Lord’s house from its previous resident’s tastes, so the bathing room remained a humble affair. There was a wooden tub, a basin for washing one’s face, and a couple of shelves to hold soaps and oils. Neither of them tended to bother with many self-care items, so the shelves were somewhat bare. Nestled next to Liu Qingge’s singular bottle of hair oil were Luo Binghe’s selection of hair oils.
Liu Qingge had used a lemongrass hair oil for as long as Luo Binghe had known him. In contrast, Luo Binghe liked to use a selection of different hair oils; he had some floral ones (lavender and rose) and a couple of earthier ones (cedarwood and amber).
For some reason, he found himself gravitating toward Liu Qingge’s hair oil over his own. Something about today had unbalanced a part of Luo Binghe, leaving him untethered. Before he knew it, his fingers had closed around the ceramic bottle of lemongrass hair oil, and he was rubbing it into the tips of his hair.
Shizun won’t mind. It will be fine. Right? Luo Binghe’s inner voice wasn’t very convincing. The longer he stared at the bottle in his hand, the more he felt guilt curdle his stomach like a bowl of milk left under a midday sun. The water sloshed as he clumsily placed it back on the shelf, droplets of bathwater landing on the floor as he tried to get out the bath.
Roughly, Luo Binghe dried himself off, uncaring of whether he rubbed his skin raw or not. Hair still dripping wet, he shuffled out of the bathroom and into the bedroom he now shared with Liu Qingge. His old rooms were still there for when he wanted extra space, but Luo Binghe now slept almost exclusively in Liu Qingge’s master bedroom.
Cuddling his Shizun while they slept was Luo Binghe’s favourite thing to do—especially because Liu Qingge ran cold. It was like hugging a bowl of baobing; comforting, cool, and sweet. Trying to ignore his guilt in favour of the thought of cuddling Liu Qingge, Luo Binghe pulled a change of clothes out of their shared wardrobe and changed into them.
His sleepwear was made of woven bamboo, and was thus very soft. Luo Binghe took a deep inhale of his fresh inner robes, pleased by the clean smell that clung to them. Feeling just a tiny bit better, Luo Binghe returned to the kitchen.
Liu Qingge was still busy making dinner, though he’d certainly made progress. The chicken looked like it was just about done; his Shizun was currently in the middle of mashing the chillies into a paste. “Binghe,” Liu Qingge blinked, abandoning his task. He hurried over to Luo Binghe, his qi washing over his hands in a glimmer of silver before he reached up to cup his disciple’s cheek.
“Clean now?” he asked. Luo Binghe nodded, then ducked his head.
“This disciple… used Shizun’s hair oil without permission,” Luo Binghe mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut. Logically, he knew that Liu Qingge wouldn’t mind, but his brain was a mess today. Logic played no part in his reasoning process.
Luo Binghe heard his Shizun give a huff, and felt the breath of air puff against his hair. Gently, a hand came to rest on the top of his head, and Luo Binghe froze as Liu Qingge patted him. “Smells good?” Liu Qingge inquired. Unable to contain himself, Luo Binghe rushed forward and enveloped Liu Qingge in his arms.
Giving an ‘oof’, Liu Qingge quickly returned the hug, one hand cupping the back of Luo Binghe’s head as they stood together in each other’s arms. Luo Binghe buried his face in Liu Qingge’s neck, inhaling the lemongrass scent he loved so much. “Qingge,” he mumbled, kissing Liu Qingge’s shoulder. His Shizun made a noise of surprise, but squeezed Luo Binghe all the tighter once he got over his shock.
“Mm,” Liu Qingge hummed, swaying their bodies to a silent song. Luo Binghe swayed with him, eyelids falling shut as Liu Qingge’s other hand moved from between Luo Binghe’s shoulder blades to the small of his waist. “I like it when you smell like me,” Liu Qingge mumbled. It was as much a confession as it was a confirmation that Liu Qingge didn’t mind Luo Binghe using his hair oil.
The reassurance nearly pushed Luo Binghe to tears.
“Shizun,” he gasped, clutching Liu Qingge as close as he could. Any closer and they would fuse into one being. Somehow, Luo Binghe didn’t mind the thought of that at all. If I could live inside of Shizun, next to his heart, I would do so, Luo Binghe vowed, dizzy with affection for his master. They stayed like that for an indeterminate amount of time, Luo Binghe refusing to let go of Liu Qingge, and Liu Qingge indulging his disciple.
“Sticky,” Liu Qingge teased, stroking Luo Binghe’s neck. Luo Binghe made a petulant sound and nuzzled the junction between Liu Qingge’s neck and shoulder. He was perfectly happy to let Liu Qingge tease him if it meant he got to continue hugging his Shizun. Eventually, though, they pulled apart. Dinner still had to be eaten, after all.
“Here,” Liu Qingge said, handing Luo Binghe two plates and two sets of chopsticks. Luo Binghe took them, obediently setting the table as his Shizun finished up preparing their meal. The luminary crystals affixed to the wall were glowing a gentle white-yellow, having turned on earlier as the sun set.
Once he was satisfied with the arrangement of the table, Luo Binghe ambled back to the kitchen. Normally, he was the one making their food, so he was feeling a little lost. Humming inanely to himself, Luo Binghe reached around Liu Qingge’s waist and hugged him close.
“Binghe!” Liu Qingge exclaimed, the tips of his ears turning red. When pushing Luo Binghe’s hands had no effect, Liu Qingge turned to shoot Luo Binghe a bullied look. “Get off; I need to plate the food.”
Luo Binghe shook his head. “No! Shizun is the cutest; this disciple simply cannot let go,” Luo Binghe proclaimed, clutching at Liu Qingge’s thin waist all the tighter.
“Fine,” Liu Qingge huffed, and worked around Luo Binghe’s greedy hold. Once the food was plated, Luo Binghe reluctantly let go of his Shizun so that he could help bring it to the table. Seating themselves opposite one another, Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge set the dishes down and picked up their chopsticks. “Eat,” Liu Qingge encouraged, pushing Luo Binghe’s plate closer to him.
A certain warmth settled about Luo Binghe’s shoulders. Feeling his gaze soften, Luo Binghe reached across the table and took one of Liu Qingge’s hands into his own. “Shizun,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to Liu Qingge’s knuckles. “Thank you for putting up with this unfilial disciple.”
Liu Qingge frowned. “Not ‘putting up with’. Not ‘unfilial’. You had a bad day, right?” Liu Qingge huffed, squeezing Luo Binghe’s hand. Luo Binghe squeezed back, his eyes downcast.
“Yes,” he replied softly. Liu Qingge nodded.
“Then it’s okay,” he said.
Huh. It’s as simple as that, Luo Binghe thought to himself. If Shizun says it’s alright, then it must be so.
It was with that thought warming his stomach and his Shizun’s affection warming his heart that Luo Binghe dug into the dinner Liu Qingge prepared for them. True to Liu Qingge’s efforts, the chicken was suitably juicy, the rice was fragrant and not too moist or dry, and the sauces were of the correct consistency and flavour.
Luo Binghe couldn’t help the sigh of delight that fell from his lips. “Well?” Liu Qingge demanded, a touch impatient. It was hopelessly endearing. Luo Binghe grinned and shovelled a large piece of chicken into his mouth. “Delishush, Shijun,” he groaned, speaking with his mouth full. Liu Qingge wrinkled his nose, disgust etched visibly on his features.
“Take smaller bites, or you’ll choke!” Liu Qingge barked, crossing his arms. Luo Binghe tilted his head, pouting at Liu Qingge as soon as he swallowed his mouthful of food.
“Shizun,” he said in a faux-chiding voice, “we both know there’s only one thing this disciple wants to choke on.”
It took Liu Qingge a couple of moments to get it. “You—you—shameless!” Liu Qingge burst out, face flaming as he pointed an accusatory finger at Luo Binghe. The laughter spilled out of Luo Binghe like a broken dam, tears of mirth pouring down his face as he collapsed onto the table.
“Shizun, you—your face! ” Luo Binghe howled, pounding a fist against the table top. Liu Qingge looked less than amused, arms crossed as he stringently avoided Luo Binghe’s teasing gaze.
With cheeks the same colour as strawberries, Liu Qingge grabbed Luo Binghe’s ear and yanked. “Shameless! Insolent!” Liu Qingge squeaked, continuing to tug at Luo Binghe’s pointed ear. Luo Binghe yelped, scrambling to sit upright as Liu Qingge continued his angry campaign against Luo Binghe’s right to have an ear that wouldn’t ache for the next shichen.
Catching Liu Qingge’s wrist, Luo Binghe gently removed his Shizun’s hand from his ear. “This one is only teasing, Shizun,” Luo Binghe smiled, pressing Liu Qingge’s fingers against his cheek. Ironically, Liu Qingge flushed even darker at that. Endeared, Luo Binghe pressed the chastest of kisses against the tip of Liu Qingge’s index finger, then his middle finger, then his thumb.
Liu Qingge made a high-pitched noise and covered his eyes. “Binghe!”
“Yes, Shizun?” Luo Binghe purred. He rubbed Liu Qingge’s hand against his face and sighed. “This one just wanted to show Shizun how much he loves his master,” Luo Binghe said dramatically, kissing Liu Qingge’s palm.
There was silence for a moment, then Liu Qingge spoke again. “Binghe. If you have a bad day… rely on me,” Liu Qingge instructed quietly.
Luo Binghe blinked. “Shizun?” he asked, uncertain.
“Promise me,” Liu Qingge implored.
“... I promise,” Luo Binghe said after a while.
“Good,” Liu Qingge huffed, sitting back in his seat. Luo Binghe continued to press his face into Liu Qingge’s hand, enjoying how his Shizun’s fingers curled around the curve of his cheek.
“This one loves you, Shizun,” Luo Binghe whispered, letting his eyes fall shut.
Liu Qingge paused for a moment, then relaxed again. “This one loves you too, Binghe. Lean on me, okay?” Liu Qingge whispered back, his fingers stroking Luo Binghe’s cheek. Overwhelmed by the gravity of it all, Luo Binghe felt his throat close up.
“This one really, really loves Shizun,” Luo Binghe managed to get out.
“Mm. This one knows,” Liu Qingge said softly.
They passed the rest of the evening together in bed, curled up in one another’s arms. As Luo Binghe drifted off to sleep, he felt Liu Qingge kiss his forehead. How wonderful it is, Luo Binghe thought, to be loved, and loved back in kind.