Work Text:
Birds chirp pleasantly in the trees and a gentle wind blows over his face, making a few wisps of curls from his bangs flutter against his forehead. The sun drapes over him and makes him feel lazy and indulgent, like a cat lying in a nice sunspot. Shang Qinghua breathes out a pleasant sigh, the back of his head cushioned by the palms of his hands.
There’s nothing that needs his attention today— nothing to be done for the An Ding Peak or the Northern Kingdom in the Demon Realm. Truly a rare day off! He is most definitely not ignoring his responsibilities, what would make you say that?!
Anyway, it had been too nice a day to spend it slaving around indoors. Or at least, that was the reasoning he gave himself when he snuck away. Now that he’s actually sprawled out, enjoying the peace around him, he decides it was a good choice.
When was the last time he truly relaxed? Shang Qinghua searches his memories and comes up empty, in both of his lives.
Being transmigrated from ‘real’ life into a side character he’d written to give his web novel Proud Immortal Demon Way a fun spy subplot that would ultimately end with said side character’s horrible death, well—it’s not what anyone would call a good time! Constantly trying to avoid succumbing to his pre-determined awful death—what a way to live!
Except he’s mostly positive he’s managed to avoid that fate by now. Most of his original novel’s plots had been thrown out the window. So many lives have been changed—along with important characters’ motivations and goals—that it's begun to be a completely different story altogether.
Not that he was complaining!! Avoiding an untimely death was a-okay with him, really!
And it’s not like he was out there ‘living his best life’ in his previous life anyways. Binging energy drinks and banging out an epic adventure harem story one chapter at a time to keep himself fed, all the while trying to appease his rabid readers so he had enough money to live on—barely—made for an overall unappealing life. Being stuck inside at a computer most days, living on instant ramen, and barely having time to go outside except to pick up groceries; it wasn’t great.
The last time he went out and just… hung out, in that life? In some nice, quaint little forest? Probably never, if he’s being honest. Most of his memories involve the city or the suburbs where he grew up, with only small blips of memories from a local park.
Never an actual forest like the one that surrounds him now, with wildlife that rustles in the bushes and a stream gurgling close enough that he can hear it!
And he has Shen Qingqiu to thank for that! In a weird you-had-to-be-there kind of way. He’s the only other person he’s found to also be transmigrated from their world into his novel; who knew it would be his most passionate anti-fan, Cucumber Bro!? The one who commented bitterly on every single one of his chapters, breaking down all their bad points and relishing in pointing out his work’s flaws! And he transmigrated into the villain of the main character's backstory, no less! In a bid to save his own life, Shen Qingqiu had changed the plot so much that it hardly resembled the original, filling in plot holes (that were only there because he had no time, really! Who could blame him—he was writing for people’s enjoyment okay?! Not every plot beat needed to pan out, no matter what his bro said!!) and making it so both he and Shang Qinghua survived.
All this while making the main character, Luo Binghe—originally a stallion OP protagonist with a massive harem that just kept growing—gay in the process!
He snickers at the thought. It’s probably unkind (and untrue) to say he did it on purpose, though he does take every opportunity he can to tease Shen Qingqiu about it, if only to get his bro all flustered.
For one thing, Shang Qinghua had always imagined Luo Binghe to be bisexual before his readers got their own ideas about his straightness and you know, he was writing for money here! He followed where the readers (re: money) led! And for another, he’s noticed through the years that he’s lived here that even though he didn’t always write down certain plots, characters, or random headcanons he had for various backgrounds or plot justifications or whatnot, he still found them scattered throughout this new world. They’re all featured: the random plant ideas he had but never got around to using, and random tidbits about a person’s backstory that he never got to bring up.
Originally, Shang Qinghua had been going to write a danmei, seeing how readily they raked in the cash. But for some reason, before he really got started, his story got picked up by a bunch of straight men who hungered for more. Shang Qinghua had easily pivoted, all too eager to please, and that was that.
Readers want an aggressively straight protag where every single woman he comes across falls at his feet? Sure, subscribe and he’ll provide all the raunchy details you could ever want or need! Just throw him a few bucks while you’re there.
“Shang Qinghua,” a voice says quietly, and his eyes snap open as his heart freezes in his chest.
“AHHHHHH!!!” he screams, sitting up rapidly in a whirlwind of panic. An attacker?! He hadn’t sensed anyone coming! Oh, he was dead, so dead!
Mid-freakout, his gaze lands on a familiar, unimpressed stare and he stops flailing around, trying to decide if he wants to run or latch onto the would-be-attacker’s legs and beg for his life.
“My king!” he says, pressing a hand to his heart as he tries to catch his breath and make sure his heart hasn’t stopped completely. “You startled me!”
“So I see,” Mobei Jun says expressionlessly. The Demon King of the North looms above him, blocking out the light, long black hair spilling over his shoulders and icy blue eyes seeming like they were staring into his very soul. He’s wearing his normal luxurious robes in the colors of his clan, dark blue with silver woven throughout. His fur-lined cape sways slightly in the wind, as stiff as its owner. Mobei Jun’s layers look much too hot, even on such a mild spring day, but Shang Qinghua wouldn’t dare to bring it up. The ice demon only ever has issues dealing with the temperature in the hottest of heat waves—though he’d never admit to such a weakness aloud.
The two men stare at each other, Shang Qinghua still seated on the ground while Mobei Jun stands above him. For a moment, silence wraps around them.
Then, like a plate crashing on the ground, Shang Qinghua remembers who they are, and he starts panicking again. “My king!!” his voice gets high-pitched and squeaky with terror. “I’m sorry, I was just—” He tries to get to his feet, but his knee catches on his long robes and he stumbles. Mobei Jun holds out a palm and Shang Qinghua stills.
“It’s fine, don’t get up. What were you doing?”
“Ah…” Gratefully, Shang Qinghua sinks back to the ground. Mobei Jun hasn’t sought him out to order him to get back to work or berate him for forgetting something. That’s good. “I was just… thinking, my king,” he finishes lamely.
“About what?” Mobei Jun presses, pushing his cape back as he settles himself on the grass beside him.
Shang Qinghua fidgets, trying to come up with something on the spot. He can’t really say the truth, which is, ‘Oh just thinking about how you and everyone around us are my original characters, basically my children, and I was thinking about how surreal that is. Also, I’m really craving ramen.’
It’s a little too weird and out there, even for Shang Qinghua.
Instead, his mouth blurts, without any sort of feedback from his mind, “The term ‘cut sleeve’, my king.” Once he computes what he’s just said, he screeches internally. What was that?!
Mobei Jun seems unperturbed, which doesn’t spark any confidence whatsoever. Does he really just say so much insane, nonconsequential stuff that it’s not even surprising at this point!?
Actually, no one answer that, Shang Qinghua suddenly doesn’t want to know.
“What about it?” Mobei Jun asks.
He sighs as he realizes he’s backed himself up into this corner. Oh well. Squaring his shoulders with determination, he decides he may as well continue down this random path of inquiry.
Sometimes Shang Qinghua has found it interesting to test the boundaries of his story. Yes, the world is much more fleshed out than what he’d originally written; it doesn’t matter how many millions of words he wrote, there will truly never be enough to fill out an entire world. A lot of it has been done on its own terms, but certain ideas he’s had still carry over, seemingly without any reason.
“Do you know the meaning?” Shang Qinghua replies, and flinches at the answering glare. “Right, right, sorry, my king. So, it’s an insult for someone who prefers men, yes?” He doesn’t quite trust that Mobei Jun knows the actual meaning, so spelling it out while framing it like they’re both in the know is the safest way to make sure they’re both on the same page. Mobei Jun nods once with understanding. “Do you know where the phrase originated from?”
That seems to give Mobei Jun pause, as one perfectly shaped brow wrinkles with thought. Shang Qinghua settles back with a smile. His job does have some perks! Such as being able to watch a normally very scary demon think over pointless questions for nothing more than his own amusement.
Plus¸ he’s very hot, so like, win-win all around.
“…No,” Mobei Jun says slowly. Shang Qinghua perks up, rubbing his hands together.
Now, he can’t just start sprouting out Emperor’s names from his world or anything like that; it would be too suspicious if Mobei Jun tried to look it up or asked someone about it. But he’s sure the framework for the actual story applies much the same way here, even if the names would be different.
“So, a long time ago, a very powerful man fell in love with a man,” Shang Qinghua begins, straightening up his spine with importance. “They loved each other very much.” He has to choke back his next sentence, ‘And at the time, those kinds of relationships weren’t forbidden.’ Because in this world, besides the occasional rude remark, Shang Qinghua realizes he didn’t write it to be forbidden here, ever. Huh. He hasn’t really thought about that, and how different that is from the sentiments in his original world. “One morning, the powerful man woke up to find his lover had fallen asleep on his sleeve. Not being able to bear waking him up, the man cut off his sleeve so his lover could sleep in. The story soon spread, and sometimes people would cut off one sleeve to show their own love and devotion. Thus, the term ‘cut sleeve’.” He sighs with longing. “Isn’t that the most romantic thing?”
“Mm.”
Mobei Jun’s noncommittal reply doesn’t put him off at all. “Well, I think it’s lovely. So even the remark isn’t as offensive as people like to think when they say it. It’s a gesture born from love, how could it possibly be insulting?”
“Mm.” This time the noise sounds more agreeable, and Shang Qinghua shoots Mobei Jun a smile. “Has your break been long enough? We should head back.”
Immediately, Shang Qinghua’s good mood bursts like a bubble, and he pouts as he watches Mobei Jun climb elegantly to his feet. “What! Noooo! But my king, I only just got here!”
“I’ve overheard your disciples complaining about not being able to find you. They said it had been hours.”
Those fucking traitors. Shang Qinghua wails some more but of course, Mobei Jun just stands there in silence. When he finally complains himself hoarse, ending on a drawn-out huff, Mobei Jun reaches out a hand.
Instantly, he flinches, thinking the demon king has finally had enough of his incessant complaining to hit him. But instead, it just hovers in the air. After an extended pause, Shang Qinghua hesitantly lifts his hand. When Mobei Jun does nothing but stare passively at him, he slowly places it on the outstretched palm. It’s cool against his own, almost pleasantly so with how warm he’s feeling. Mobei Jun’s long fingers wrap around his and pull him easily to his feet.
There’s a strange rushing in his head, and he feels vaguely floaty as he stands there, blinking dumbly as Mobei Jun drops his hand. His skin still feels tingly from where they’ve touched. Finally, he shakes his head, coming back down to earth with a start. Clearing his throat, he fusses with his clothes for lack of anything to say.
Or at least, lack of anything that isn’t: Wow, you’re so incredibly hot and handsome, we should most definitely kiss like, right now. I’ve only been in love with you since, uh, forever, and oh, did I mention, I basically wrote you to be my ideal man?
Definitely a super cool thing to say and would not lead to his untimely death, nope, not at all.
“If you’d like,” Mobei Jun begins quietly as Shang Qinghua starts to brush off stray bits of grass from his robes, “I could bring us back to the North.”
Shang Qinghua laughs with surprise, grateful for the distraction from his very lonely and pathetic crush. “What, and shirk my duties here? My king! That’s so mean!” Mobei Jun would never do something so low class as a shrug but his general aura portrays the implication perfectly. Shang Qinghua snickers. “No, no. I’ll go.” He stretches his arms above his head with a drawn-out groan. “I suppose I better see what all the fuss is about. Are you heading back then?”
“I can walk with you if you’d like,” Mobei Jun says mildly.
Shang Qinghua brightens. “Yes! Along the way, I can tell you the story about the half-eaten peach. You haven’t heard that one, have you?”
Mobei Jun shakes his head and begins to walk down the path back to the Peak. Shang Qinghua rushes to his side, already chattering away about this next little anecdote about historic gay references that people might not know the actual story behind.
“Man, I’d like a burger,” Shang Qinghua says aloud, mournfully.
He’s alone in his personal study in Mobei Jun’s palace. It’s a nice room, very spacious. A scroll is unrolled in front of him, and he’s been paying attention to it, he has, but his mind has drifted and it’s so close to lunchtime, is it really his fault??
Not living on instant meals is nice, don’t get him wrong; it’s just that sometimes Shang Qinghua would love some McDonald’s fries and a greasy burger. Or, or, chips. Just imagining the sound a freshly opened bag makes as it pops open has already got him salivating, not to mention the pleasure of mindlessly shoveling handfuls into his mouth, again and again.
But the idea of a burger, dripping down his fingers, licking up the fat from his wrists. Shang Qinghua groans at the thought. “No, scratch that, I’d die for a burger right about now.”
“What’s a burger?”
The scream he lets out is, predictably, long and drawn out. Mobei Jun barely reacts and by the time he quiets down, he has to resist the urge to throw an inkwell at him.
“Would you stop doing that, my king?!”
Mobei Jun ignores him (rude) and instead leans a hip against Shang Qinghua’s desk, looking like a model on some preteen’s poster, all tall, dark and handsome, and Shang Qinghua has to resist the urge to brain himself on his desk.
Focus!! Do gay panic later, not in front of The Boss.
Currently, said boss is looking at him expectantly as if waiting for an answer, and quickly he goes back through their short conversation, searching for the part he missed.
Oh no.
First rule about being transmigrated from your original timeline into another one: Don’t mention the original timeline!! At all! Ever!!
“Er…” He tries to buy himself time, but Mobei Jun is still staring and nothing else comes to mind that will successfully derail the conversation. Mentally throwing up his hands, he tries to explain it without giving too much away, “It’s a… human dish.” There. That should be enough, right? Mobei Jun doesn’t have any real interest in human cuisine.
“What’s in it? Why can’t you get it? Is it not in season?”
Not the follow-up questions!! Why is it that when Shang Qinghua wants to talk about something, Mobei Jun gets bored and wanders off, but when he doesn’t he presses further!?
“Aha, no, not quite.”
Mobei Jun’s gaze is piercing, almost literally so. Though Shang Qinghua is aware he can’t shoot ice lasers out of his eyes, he almost makes you feel like he can. Shang Qinghua breaks quickly under the pressure.
“Okay, okay. It’s—” He squints, rubbing his chin with thought. “—ground-up beef in the form of a patty?” He holds out his hands to demonstrate the appropriate size. “On top of a bun. With lettuce, tomato, uhh onions? Oh! And cheese. And pickles! I always like extra pickles.” He makes sure not to mention ketchup or mustard because he knows with certainty that they don’t have those condiments here and he has no idea what’s in either of them except tomato, and if he brings them up they’ll go down a rabbit hole that’ll take forever to dig himself out of.
“I see,” Mobei Jun replies. “And you can’t get it because…?”
“It’s, uh, rare, my king. This one doesn’t normally treat himself to it.”
Mobei Jun nods like that’s all he needs to hear and leaves without another word. Shang Qinghua gapes after him. Well, goodbye to you too!! Huffing, he turns back to his desk. At least the distraction is enough to get him refocused and he’s actually able to settle down and complete his work soon after.
Which was probably the plan all along, that dastardly demon!! How does he always know when Shang Qinghua is slacking off?? Doesn’t he have important demon matters to attend to?!
That evening at dinner he’s presented with an odd dish. It’s a steamed bun covered by a patty of meat, obviously mixed with other things, and a side dish of pickled cucumbers and rice.
Shang Qinghua feels like he might crack a rib with how hard he’s trying not to laugh. He purses his lips together, tears beginning to bead at the corners of his eyes. Bun. It’s… a patty on a bun. Just not, you know, a bread bun. He thinks he might explode with how much he’s holding back.
Mobei Jun has a fragile ego at times and bursting out with laughter is a sure-fire way to get himself hit, if not killed on the spot. Especially considering the demon king is watching his every move with intense focus.
“Well, this is… a surprise,” Shang Qinghua manages to say, with immense effort. It sounds like he’s holding back tears, and he hopes that Mobei Jun won’t take that badly.
“Is it made correctly?” Mobei Jun asks in his emotionless way. Still, they’ve known each other long enough by this point that Shang Qinghua can see the way he’s invested in the answer, even if his tone is still cold. “The chefs weren’t sure what it was, so I had to describe it.”
“Not… quite, my king,” Shang Qinghua says honestly. Seeing the frown that starts to form, he’s quick to add on before any poor, innocent demon chefs get murdered for not knowing how to make a dish that doesn’t exist in this world, “Not that I don’t appreciate the effort! Here, let me try it.”
Somehow, he manages to get a bit of both the bun and the beef. It tastes nothing like a burger. He feels the way he’s shaking, laughter still swelling inside him like a balloon. Swallowing is an intense effort.
“So?”
“It’s different,” he says slowly, licking around his teeth. The flavor profile isn’t even close, but that’s not a surprise. They’d made a steamed bun with the normal fillings, then seemingly combined the tomato, onion, cheese, and lettuce into the patty itself. Plus, it’s seasoned like the filling, which means it tastes nothing like a burger patty. “It’s not the way I’m used to, but I like it!” ‘Like’ would be a stretch, but he’s trying to be kind here. Mobei Jun settles back from where he’d been leaning forward in his chair, radiating smugness.
He eats the entire thing, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous his life has become.
Shang Qinghua barely remembers to tell Mobei Jun that, although he’d liked the dish, maybe keep it between them and not offer it to other human guests (Shang Qinghua doesn’t want to deal with the headache of attempting to explain where in the world he’d heard about something called a ‘burger’). He completely forgets to ask why Mobei Jun even bothered the chefs to try to make it for him in the first place.
“How do humans court?” Mobei Jun asks one day, coming up beside Shang Qinghua as he juggles several scrolls in his arms on the way to his study.
It’s not a completely random question. There’ve been several marriage proposals made towards Mobei Jun as of late. Though all have been rejected, today in court Shang Qinghua had asked about a certain demonic custom he hadn’t recognized. (Or well, remembered writing about. Same difference really.)
Shang Qinghua hums with thought. “It varies. They generally go out on dates—ah, like go and do activities together, alone. They eat food together, ummm. Write each other poetry? I’m not really sure, my king.” Listen, he made money writing a demon harem novel. Most of the time, his protagonist beat his opponent in some cool, witty way, and whichever leading lady of the day it was slept with him. There wasn’t a ton of fun, ‘getting to know you’ style dates, and in both his lives he hasn’t had much personal experience in that department either.
“Poetry?” Mobei Jun echoes.
“Yeah, like describing their best qualities, making promises to each other. Something like that.”
“Hmm.”
At the next break in the hallway, Shang Qinghua goes one way, while Mobei Jun goes the other. “See you later, my king!” he calls.
The fact that he gets a small acknowledgment in the form of a wave over Mobei Jun’s shoulder makes him way too happy, and he smiles like a dope for the rest of the day.
He promptly forgets about the exchange, so he’s wholly unprepared and is simply minding his own business when Mobei Jun suddenly ambushes him and shoves a folded piece of paper into his hands.
“What’s this, my king?” he asks, even as he’s unfolding it.
“A gift,” Mobei Jun grunts back vaguely.
Shang Qinghua reads the writing, recognizes it as his king’s, then proceeds to read it again when the first time through it’s completely incomprehensible.
Then a third time for good measure. He’d be willing to put in a fourth pass, but Mobei Jun is looming over him in that particular way that means he’s impatient and won’t wait much longer to start getting angry at Shang Qinghua’s lack of a response.
“M-my king?” Shang Qinghua stutters. “T-this is, uh, is this—”
“A poem,” Mobei Jun confirms. “For you. Describing your qualities.”
“Uh huh,” Shang Qinghua replies, voice vaguely hysterical. “F-firstly, my king, I believe I said best qualities.” Mobei Jun’s eyes burn into him, and he feels a blush working its way across his cheeks. He’s leaning quite close to his face, nearly ducking to be almost eye to eye with the much shorter Shang Qinghua. “A-and, uh. Why?? ”
“You hadn’t noticed my other attempts,” Mobei Jun explains, without really explaining anything.
“Others?!” Shang Qinghua squeaks.
Mobei Jun nods, then begins listing them on his fingers. Are you serious right now?! “We spend time together, and we eat meals together.”
“I literally work for you!” At Mobei Jun’s scowl, he remembers to tack on, “Of course we spend time together, my king!”
“I go to your Peak when you’re there.” Mobei Jun points out, as if this is in any way confirmation that the king has been courting him.
“I thought you were just keeping tabs on me!”
“… I have napped there before. I never nap in front of other people.”
“That…” He doesn’t have a great response to that. He knows that. “Okay, surely one thing isn’t—”
“I had your burger made. I personally make you noodles.”
Ah, yes, the noodles were an improvement over the burger and a recent development after Mobei Jun had caught him reminiscing over ramen. Still, being made to eat the same noodles every day for over a week had felt more like a punishment than any courting behavior!! Shang Qinghua had been too scared to say anything and just kept eating them, how was that his fault?!
“Are you not interested?” Mobei Jun asks, point blank. Shang Qinghua’s heart seizes in his chest, fists crumpling the paper in his hands.
He makes a noise of surprise and loosens his fingers, scared of leaving wrinkles in the poem.
Okay, so it’s not terribly flattering, but he’s keeping this forever dammit!
“No!! I mean yes, yes, I’m very interested!” Shang Qinghua wheezes, trying to keep his cool.
He’s never been cool, not one day in his entire two lives.
“I’d be the most interested, in fact. Like, more than anyone else. And of course, you have many interested parties! Aha, this one is just very, uh. Shocked. By the turn of events, and—” Seeing the amusement that ticks up just the slightest corner of Mobei Jun’s lips into one of his small, small smiles—that he seems to only make around Shang Qinghua!—makes him wish he could just combust on the spot, he’s being SO lame right now.
“Can you please just kiss me already?” he pleads. Anything to shut himself up!!
Mobei Jun’s small smile grows wider, into the biggest one he’s ever seen, in fact, and Shang Qinghua might faint on the spot, he really might!! It's a very real possibility!
Still, when cold lips descend over his own, he somehow manages to stay conscious enough to enjoy the feeling.
It’s short and sweet, and when Mobei Jun pulls away Shang Qinghua smiles and memorizes the way his king’s handsome face looks at this moment. He wants to return to the memory as often as possible. Maybe write a love poem of his own describing it in detail. Later, though. After he’s had time to process everything; his legs feel suspiciously shaky.
“Wow, I love you so much,” Shang Qinghua says, without thinking.
Then suddenly, he’s thinking way too much, like overthinking because WOW, too soon buddy!
Everything is too much and too overwhelming and Mobei Jun doesn’t look displeased by the information, but his face is usually quite hard to parse and well—
Shang Qinghua promptly faints on the spot.
To Shang Qinghua
You talk too much, and yet even still never seem to say what you truly mean
You’re a coward and a weak fighter
You’ve saved my life, more than once.
You’ve promised to never leave my side, and though you’ve broken that promise once—
I promise to never leave,
If you promise to do the same.
-Mobei Jun