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Chapter Text

King Yan sat in his obsidian throne, the dark stone cool beneath his form, a striking contrast to the heat that radiated from the flames roaring behind him. The fire, flickering in vibrant reds and golds, cast dancing shadows across the grand chamber, making the walls pulse like a living thing. 

He slouched, one arm lazily draped over the armrest, his chin resting in the palm of his hand, as if the weight of the world had grown unbearably heavy. His gaze, distant and unfocused, stared at nothing in particular, lost in thought.

With his free hand, his fingers tapped a slow, rhythmic beat on the armrest, the hollow thunks of his knuckles sounding out in time with the crackling of the flames. 

"Liang," he murmured, his voice low and languid, a name he had spoken countless times before, each syllable losing its urgency. "Tell my children to come here."

His words hung in the air, a command spoken without force, yet one that held undeniable weight. The firelight flickered again, casting a fleeting glow on the hard edges of his features.

Liang, his trusted aid, bowed deeply with a quiet grace. His movements were smooth, almost ceremonial, as he turned to exit the chamber. 

"Of course, Your Majesty," he replied, his voice soft yet firm, a subtle reverence lacing his tone as he spoke. He retreated, stepping down a series of stone slabs that led to the lower chambers. 

On either side of the stone walkway, lava churned and splashed in violent bursts of molten orange and crimson, its heat palpable even from a distance, radiating in waves that shimmered the air. The guards stationed along edge stood unmoving, statuesque in their black and red uniforms, their expressions unreadable. 

The silence stretched long as Liang disappeared into the shadows, his footsteps swallowed by the roar of the flames.

He appeared soon after, his figure cloaked in shadows, and in his wake, the five children of King Yan entered the throne room — each one emerging from tendrils of swirling, fiery black smoke that curled in the air like restless spirits. 

The room seemed to darken in their presence, the oppressive heat of the flames behind King Yan intensifying as they stepped forward. Their eyes glinted with an otherworldly sheen, the smouldering embers of their power evident even in their calm, measured strides. One by one, they knelt before their father in perfect unison, the crackle of fire the only sound breaking the silence.

With lowered heads, their voices echoed in the chamber, a single, harmonious wave of sound that reverberated off the stone walls.

“Greetings, Your Majesty.”

King Yan’s gaze swept over them, sharp and calculating, lingering on each child as though measuring them with his silence. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, scanning their relaxed postures, the easy way they presented themselves. His lips thinned into a faint frown, not from anger, but from the quiet frustration of seeing their apathy.

"Yan Huo," he said, voice low and even. "It seems you have made another trip to the mortal realm."

The youngest of his children, Yan Huo, stiffened. His posture faltered, the weight of his father's gaze pressing down on him.

"Father, I—"

But King Yan raised a hand, a single, decisive gesture that halted his son’s words before they could form into excuses. He knew the pattern all too well. Yan Huo’s trips to the mortal realm were never for innocent pleasures, no matter how his son tried to disguise them. It was never the delicate pastries or fleeting joys of the human world that beckoned him; it was something darker, something King Yan understood all too well. But he would not give his son the satisfaction of another attempt at a defence.

“Pardon him, Father,” Yan Lu intervened smoothly, his voice as polished as his appearance, stepping forward and giving a subtle, almost imperceptible nudge to his younger brother. “I’ve failed to keep him in check.”

King Yan’s gaze flickered briefly toward Yan Lu, but he made no reply. The words were perfunctory, a tired dance between them all. He waved them off dismissively, already bored with the routine of it all. It was the same excuses, the same attempts at mediation, and it had grown as predictable as the flicker of flames in the chamber.

But even as he turned his attention elsewhere, his eyes caught sight of his other children. Yan Shuang, hiding a smile behind her sleeve, her eyes twinkling with a mirth she failed to fully contain. 

Yan Ming, next to her, looked less entertained. His brows were furrowed, lips pressed tight in a faint grimace as he observed the antics of his brothers. His discomfort was palpable, though he said nothing, his gaze flicking occasionally to his father as if expecting him to intervene further.

And then there was Yan Tian, the silent one. His expression remained a study in impassivity, his dark eyes watching with quiet detachment, unaffected by the commotion that rumbled around him. 

King Yan exhaled a weary breath, his gaze lingering on his children, each one a reflection of something he had shaped, something he had created, for better or worse. And in this moment, beneath the shadow of his throne and the oppressive heat of the flames, he could not help but wonder if any of them were truly capable of withstanding the weight of the kingdom they were born to inherit.

He eyed Yan Tian for a long second though, trying to guess what was going on behind that mask of his oldest son, only to come up empty. King Yan smiled to himself — Yan Tian couldn't be more closer to who Yanlou was as a kid.  

“I don’t care what frivolous activities any of you indulged in while in the mortal realm.” King Yan’s voice boomed through the throne room, deep and resonant, reverberating off the stone walls like a distant thunderclap. The sound rumbled through the room, shaking the very air with its authority, drawing all five of his children to attention. They straightened, instinctively drawn into focus by the sheer power behind their father’s words. Their eyes locked onto him, waiting for the rest of his proclamation.

“I called you here for one reason, and one reason only,” King Yan continued, his gaze sweeping across them, each of his children’s expressions now taut with curiosity, their previous ease evaporating in an instant.

“Yan Huo will reach adulthood next week,” he said, voice unwavering, “so it’s finally time to decide who the Crown Prince is going to be.”

The words hung in the air, and all five of them froze. Even Liang, the ever-composed aide who rarely showed emotion, could not conceal the flicker of curiosity that sparked in his eyes.

It was the moment they had all been waiting for after all, the moment that would determine the future of the throne, the future of Diyu itself.

Yanlou wanted to delay the crowing for a few more decades, but despite the eternal flames that blazed at his back and the chilling winds that whispered from the Wilderness, there was a weary sort of stillness settling in his bones. He had long since surpassed his hundredth century of ruling — and with time, even the most harrowing of tortures, the most jarring of souls, began to lose their bite.

There was little left to keep him entertained. Once, he could step beyond the borders of Youdu, slip into the mortal world for brief moments, where he could taste the pleasures of both decadence and chaos. But that was before his role as King of Diyu had bound him here, tethered to this cold, imposing throne. He was no mere spirit, no transient wanderer of the afterlife. He was the ruler of this realm, and that meant he could never stray too far from his seat.

And yet, he wasn’t ready to give it up either. The procession of souls, the whispered regrets, the screams that echoed through the corridors of Diyu — they were all... entertaining, in their own way. Each day brought a new flavour of torment, a new opportunity to witness the tangled web of human lives unravelling at his feet. It wasn’t a grand, exhilarating existence — no, it was far from that. But it was still something.

And something was better than nothing.

So, no — he was not ready to relinquish the throne. Not yet.

But there was no harm in spicing things up a bit. And this decision, this crowning of the next ruler, would be just the thing to break the monotony.

“I want a grandchild.” The embers crackling from the flames behind his throne flickered a little brighter at the mention of it. His eyes, normally distant and calculating, sparkled with a rare intensity, the faintest glimmer of hope weaving through his words.

For centuries, he had sought out demons and mortals alike, scouring the realms in search of those who might be able bear him children. He had stood at the threshold of life and death, watching as his offspring were brought into the world, their first cries echoing through the corridors of Diyu. The joy he felt in those early moments, the rush of pride that surged through him when his children were born — those memories still lingered, clear as though they had happened yesterday.

But the novelty of it had long since faded. The sharp, all-consuming joy of parenthood had dulled into something far quieter, far more resigned. The love he felt for his children had shifted over time. 

Their ambitions had left him in their wake. He couldn’t remember the last time any of them had stayed long enough to share a laugh or a quiet moment with him. No — his children were always too absorbed in their own lives, leaving him in this throne room, alone with only the flickering flames and the ever-present, silent company of Liang.

And so, Yanlou found himself yearning for something more. A grandchild. Someone to dote on, to spoil, to nurture with the same attention he once gave his own children — before time had chipped away at the joy of it all. He longed for the simplicity of watching a small life grow, to hold something new in his arms, something untouched by jaws of death. Perhaps his children would get lucky and find themselves a spouse who lived after birth.

His gaze turned distant for a moment as he recalled the stories his old friends would tell him, of grandchildren running through their halls, of sons and daughters-in-law who brought gifts and laughter. How he envied them.

“Whoever presents me with a grandchild will be pronounced Crown Prince.”

“This makes the third body this week.” Zhuo Yichen's voice was low, heavy with the weight of the discovery. He knelt beside the corpse, examining what used to be a woman — though what remained now was little more than a shrivelled, decayed figure. 

The skin was tight against the bones, the once vibrant flesh now hollowed out, drained of life and purpose. The stench of death lingered thickly in the air, sharp and suffocating, mixing with the faintly acrid scent of burnt incense.

From outside the room, Yichen could hear Bai Jiu’s retching, his violent gagging punctuated by the sound of Ying Lei’s voice — half reassurances, half teasing. “You’ll get used to it eventually,” Ying Lei said, though they already knew that wasn't true. 

Zhuo Yichen couldn’t help but grimace, his gaze flicking to Wen Xiao, who stood beside him, her face pinched with distaste. The corpse was grotesque, its features twisted in a final scream that would never be heard.

Wen Xiao sighed, a sound filled with both exhaustion and frustration, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the dead woman. "Unlike the last couple," she remarked, her voice tinged with something almost questioning, "it’s only her and her father."

Zhuo Yichen nodded, his gaze still fixed on the body. 

“A couple and a single woman. Seems like our demon hasn't figured out what he likes,” Zhao Yuanzhou chimed in, his voice laced with an odd amusement, the kind that felt disturbingly out of place in the presence of death. 

Wen Xiao rolled her eyes, though the motion was tinged with affection. "You know, Zhao Yuanzhou, sometimes I wonder if you’ve got a heart left in that chest of yours." Her tone was light, but there was a sharpness beneath the words, an edge that came from having worked together too long to tolerate nonsense.

Zhao Yuanzhou flashed her a grin, unbothered. "I've given my heart to someone long ago. All I have is just a lot of enthusiasm." He leaned against the stone wall, clearly unperturbed by the gruesome scene unfolding before him.

Zhuo Yichen, tired of the banter, slapped his knee with a sharp, irritated motion. “If you have nothing useful to add, go check on Bai Jiu,” he commanded, his patience fraying with every passing moment.

Zhao Yuanzhou raised a hand in mock surrender, his smile softening, as if in apology. "Fine, fine. I’ll stay quiet," he said, but his eyes twinkled with amusement nonetheless.

The last two bodies — newlyweds, only married for a year — had been discovered in the same horrific condition as the one before them. The scene was disturbingly familiar: flesh withered away to almost nothing, drained of life, leaving behind nothing but a husk. And yet, no one had even thought to report the disappearances until last week, despite the bodies having likely been decomposing for at least three weeks. There had been no signs of forced entry, no odd behaviour, no suspicious activity. Everything had seemed normal, as though the deaths were little more than a whisper lost in the chaos of daily life.

Zhuo Yichen’s gaze lingered on the body before him, his mind turning over the details, trying to make sense of the growing pattern. The silence in the room was heavy, filled with the unspoken frustration of questions that didn’t have answers.

Then, a soft thud echoed from the hallway — boots striking the stone floor with purposeful steps. The footsteps drew closer, the sound sharp and crisp against the backdrop of stillness. The temperature in the air seemed to drop, a sudden chill that slithered into the bones, creeping through the stone walls and under Yichen's cloak. He could feel it in his skin, the promise of something colder to come. He knew instinctively — snow would be here within the next few days.

The door creaked open, and Pei Sijing stepped into the room, her presence bringing a new layer of chill with her. Her breath fogged the air as she spoke, the wisps of vapor hanging in the dim light.

“No one saw or heard anything suspicious in the past couple of days,” she reported, her voice even, as though she were discussing something far less dire. "Apparently, Miss Mei rarely leaves her home, always tending to her father. So, her absence for the usual weekly shopping didn’t raise any alarm among the locals.”

He glanced over at Wen Xiao, whose expression was unreadable, then at Zhao Yuanzhou, who appeared more entertained by the drama than concerned, but his brows furrowed in concern nonetheless.

“Did anyone speak to her neighbours?” Zhuo Yichen asked.

Pei Sijing’s gaze shifted slightly, the cold air around her seeming to deepen. “No one knew much about her. Her father kept to himself, too. Quiet, reserved. No one found it strange at first — until now.”

Zhao Yuanzhou sighed. "It’s always the quiet ones," he muttered under his breath, half to himself.

No suspicious activity, same as the last murder.

Seconds later, Bai Jiu stumbled into the room, pale as a ghost, his footsteps frantic and unsteady, Ying Lei following closely behind. 

Bai Jiu’s eyes were wide with shock, and his hands gripped Zhuo Yichen's bells so tightly his knuckles were white. He tugged at them, along with his hair, as though trying to ground himself, and the sound of the bells jingled in an unnervingly erratic rhythm. Yichen winced, his eyes shutting involuntarily at the dissonance of the motion.

Without a word, Bai Jiu buried his small face into Yichen's shoulder, his body shaking as he crouched down, only lifting his head to peek at the body before hiding away again.

“Sh-she gave birth before she died,” Bai Jiu’s voice trembled, barely a whisper.

The body was beyond recognition, hollowed and dried up like a leave, the colour of ash. Yichen could see the bones protruding out of the body, and had it not been for the green dress that was melted into her skin, he wouldn't be able to tell at first glance if what he was looking at was man or woman.

Bai Jiu had fainted at first glance, but after awakening, he had managed to open up the body to do an autopsy. They didn't think they would find anything with the state Miss Mei was in, but it was still worth a shot. Even if it meant Zhuo Yichen sacrificing one of his hands. He could still see Xiao Jiu's nail marks on his palm.

They frowned, looking at the body like it would give them some kind of clue.

"Birth?" Yichen questioned doubtfully. "Shouldn't have there been signs of it in this room if that was the case?" The room was clean apart from the thin layer of dust it had accumulated over the past two days, hardly any furniture to fill up the space the four walls contained.

"There was no mentions of a husband or a lover." Wen Xiao noted, frowning even more, pulling her fur cloak closer to her body.

"A secret lover, then?" Zhao Yuanzhou mused.

"The townsfolk didn't mention anything about her being pregnant or having a lover." Pei Sijing said, just as confused. "In a town as small as theirs, gossip could spread like wildfire."

"Well, the little one isn't lying." Ying Lei hummed, crossing his arms over his chest. "There's a faint smell of blood emanating in the room. Smells just like Lady Mei over here."

Zhuo Yichen looked up at the great demon, trying to get some kind of answer, but Zhao Yuanzhou only shrugged. 

Zhou Yichen filed that for later in his mind, the white monkey always knew more than he liked to let on.

"Perhaps her father knows something?" Wen Xiao inquired, draping the white cloth over the body. "We'll get someone to send her to the morgue for now, and we can go speak to the—"

But before she could finish her sentence, a thick cloud of black smoke swirled in the corner of the room. Bai Jiu let out a high-pitched scream, clinging to Zhuo Yichen in a panic, his small hands yanking at the elder's bells in frantic desperation. The sound of the bells echoed in the silence before Yichen himself staggered back, feeling the sharp sting of discomfort shoot through him. Pei Sijing stepped aside, allowing the black smoke to dissipate into the still, frigid air.

The figure that emerged from the haze was unmistakable. Li Lun strode into the room with his usual air of indifference, as if the unsettling atmosphere meant little to him. He didn't even flinch as the cold seemed to slice through the room. 

“Don’t bother,” Li Lun’s voice was rough, almost bored, as he surveyed the group with a disinterested gaze. “The man’s in no state to talk.” He didn’t wait for anyone to respond, continuing, “Couldn’t even say his daughter’s name without breaking down into tears.” He clicked his tongue in irritation, clearly displeased at having wasted time on something so insignificant in his eyes.

Zhao Yuanzhou chuckled. “I’m surprised you even stayed this long,” he teased, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he looked as his friend.

Li Lun’s lips curled into a thin, unimpressed smile as he fixed Zhao Yuanzhou with a pointed, deadpan glance. “At least I contributed.” His voice held a hint of disdain as he met the great demon’s gaze. “What did you do, useless monkey?”

"I'm an Ape!" Zhao Yuanzhou corrected in exasperation, glaring at the tree spirit. "And I stayed by my darling's side. Where else would I be needed?" He responded with a smug shrug, almost proud with himself.

Zhuo Yichen scoffed, ignoring Ying Lei's snickering. "Your laziness knows no bounds." He muttered, making Zhao Yuanzhou look at him in offence.

"Pretty sure he was a sloth in his past life." Wen Xiao commented, her and Pei Sijing hiding a smile.

“Xiao Zhou.” Zhao Yuanzhou’s voice was a low drawl, his hot breath brushing Yichen’s ear as the demon leaned in close, too close, with that all-too-familiar playful gleam in his eyes. “You’re meant to be on my side,” he whined, a teasing edge to his tone that was meant to provoke, to get under Yichen’s skin.

Zhuo Yichen could tell immediately that Zhao Yuanzhou wasn’t offended, nor was he particularly concerned by anything that had been said. This was nothing but a game to the great demon — a game to see how far he could push, how much he could get under Yichen's skin. And Zhuo Yichen, despite himself, fell right into it. A flush of pink bloomed across his cheeks, subtle yet enough to betray his discomfort.

The effect was instantaneous. Zhao Yuanzhou’s laughter rang in Yichen’s ear, rich and full of amusement, as if he'd won a small, unspoken victory. It was the kind of laughter that made the younger demon feel simultaneously embarrassed and irritated.

Before the infuriating monkey could make another outlandish comment, Yichen snapped. With lightning speed, he stood, pivoting on his heel and turning his back to the room in a single, fluid motion so the rest of the gorup couldn't indulge in his misery as well.

"It's lunch time. Let's eat something before heading back."

"Okay." Wen Xiao said, and he pretended not to hear the amused tone in her voice.

"Zhou gege, I don't think I can eat anything right now." Bai Jiu grimaced, patting his stomach with a disgusted look on his face.

Zhuo Yichen smiled softly, patting his head and giving the bell in his braid a little flick. "How about I get your favourite?" He asked, trying to coax the little doctor. It was a trick his brother once used upon on him, and Yichen always got the desired effect like his brother did.

Bai Jiu's eyes lit up, his mood instantly livelier. "With pork dumplings?!"

Yichen laughed, nodding. "With pork dumplings."

"I'll send a message for someone to come collect Miss Mei's body." Wen Xiao said as she walked past him, already scribbling the note down in a piece of paper.

Before Yichen could take another step, he felt a chin hook over his shoulder, followed by the unmistakable warmth of arms snaking around his waist. The contact was sudden, and Yichen’s body went rigid, a bolt of heat shooting up his spine. It was as if the air itself had thickened, each tendril of warmth wrapping around him, coaxing his rational mind to unravel. 

He heard Bai Jiu squeak in surprise, covering his eyes with his hands. Pei Sijing cleared her throat behind them while Ying Lei whistled into the distance.

Li Lun walked off with a shake of his head, rolling his eyes at the couple.

"Airen," Zhao Yuanzhou sighed against his neck, making Zhuo Yichen shiver under his breath. The demon hunter could feel his lover's lips forming a smirk under his skin, making him want to punch the demon even more. "I want my favourite as well."

Zhao Yuanzhou should be so lucky that Zhuo Yichen valued the demon's life, or else there would have been a sword sticking out of his stomach at the implications of the sentence.

So, Yichen being the only decent one out of them pair, smacked Zhao Yuanzhou in the face to get him off. "Practise some shame, stupid monkey." He scolded with a scowl, taking a hold of Bai Jiu's hand and walking off.

If his face was bright red when he reached the group, then it was sun beating down on them.

"You don't know what kind of demon you are yet?" Li Lun asked.

Li Lun wasn’t quite sure how the conversation came to be — one moment, he was half-listening to the conversations floating around, and the next, Zhao Yuanzhou and Zhuo Yichen were embroiled in another heated debate. In truth, the argument itself seemed trivial, a mere excuse for the two to bicker over something far less important than whatever might be at the heart of it. 

He had no idea how they had reached this point, nor did he particularly care — not with how flushed the young demon's cheeks were. They were a shade of red so deep it seemed almost unnatural against the biting cold wind around them. Li Lun could practically feel the heat radiating from the man, the blush so vivid it was as if the blood in his veins might boil the bowl of noodles in front of him. It was almost comical how Zhuo Yichen’s discomfort was so transparent, yet the man was doing his best to ignore it, probably hoping the conversation would just move on.

Li Lun knew until Bing Yi's blood, but he wasn't so close to them to actually ask for the exact details. And well, if Ying Lei was going to bring it up amidst the couple's argument, then who was Li Lun to pass up the opportunity to ask more about it?

“I think I’m a dragon.” Zhuo Yichen’s voice was sharp, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Zhao Yuanzhou, who was attempting — quite sneakily — to slide a piece of shrimp into his bowl. 

“You’re not a child,” Yichen hissed, his tone low and warning. Without a moment’s hesitation, he slapped Zhao Yuanzhou’s hand away with a flick of his wrist, making the great demon rub at the sore spot in mock exaggeration, swiftly returning the food. “Stop being picky.”

“The monkey thinks I’m too confident in my statement,” Yichen muttered under his breath.

Wen Xiao, who had been quietly sipping her broth, glanced over at them with a small smile playing on her lips. “I think he’s perfectly fine in his statement,” she chimed in, her voice light, but with an unmistakable conviction. “I don’t see how he could be anything but a dragon. He has dragon blood and a dragon bone.”

Her words hung in the air for a moment, as if the truth of them were undeniable. But Ying Lei scratched the back of his head, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. “You’re not wrong.” His voice faltered slightly. “But well, it’s… complicated,” he finished, his words trailing off into an uncertain silence,

"How so?" Pei Sijing questioned.

"You're just jealous of Zhou gege." Bai Jiu scoffed, taking a huge bit out of his dumpling.

Ying Lei made a face, gesturing to himself. "Me?" He echoed incredulously, letting out a baffled laugh. "I'm a god, what do I have to be jealous about?"

Li Lun watched the two kids verbally scuffle for a while as he drank his tea. Usually, when Li Lun wasn't planning the demise of his enemies, he liked to observe.

Perhaps it was his nature as a tree, or maybe that humans made fascinating creatures when they weren't pure savages. And his current observational obsession was the unlikely group of people he agreed to join.

He wasn't planning to stick around forever — that was never his in plans — but Li Lun must say, they were far more interesting to watch then the random fight two street vendors would break into.

He just wasn't sure when he had started to get swept up into their antics as well.

"Zhao Yuanzhou!"

The sharpness of Zhuo Yichen’s voice cut through the air like a blade, and Li Lun flinched involuntarily, his eyes snapping toward the source of the sudden outburst. The loud slap of Zhuo Yichen’s palm against the table reverberated through the table, sending a few stray droplets of tea splashing onto the surface, staining the once pristine cloth.

The others at the table instinctively turned their heads in unison, their attention riveted on the couple. Because while watching Zhao Yuanzhou fluster Zhuo Yichen was amusing, watching Zhao Yuanzhou be scolded by Zhuo Yichen was the highlight of his day.

Zhao Yuanzhou, the demon who could make entire kingdoms tremble with a single flick of his finger, was now being scolded like a misbehaving child — it was glorious, Li Lun thought.

"Unless you want me to add emerald pendants into your drinks—" Zhuo Yichen continued, his hand reaching for the dish in front of Zhao Yuanzhou, methodically picking up a stalk of celery and adding it to the demon’s bowl, as though this simple gesture could somehow teach the demon a lesson. "Stop. Being. Picky." The emphasis on each word was punctuated by another piece of celery, each one landing with a small clink that felt louder than it should have.

The playful spark in Zhao Yuanzhou's eyes had dimmed, replaced by a trace of something softer. The bastard didn't even have the decency to even pretend he was embarrassed. He loved it when Zhuo Yichen fussed over him, it made Li Lun sick.

"Honestly," Yichen continued, eyes narrowing slightly as he glared at his lover, "over one thousand years in this world, and you have the palate of a baby. Ridiculous." He shook his head, as if deeply frustrated by the absurdity of it all.

Zhao Yuanzhou looked at the food like it personally offended him. His friend hardly ate food, not that they needed human sustenance to keep them alive, but it seemed like Zhao Yuanzhou was trying to adopt more taste into his palate for his friends. Well, mostly for his little human, but still.

"I don't ever see you eating mangos." He resorted back, pushing the celery away from the dumplings.

"I'm sorry that some of us humans were born with allergies." He rolled his eyes, picking up a shrimp between his chopsticks and pushing it towards Zhao Yuanzhou's lips. "Why? Does that bother you?" 

Li Lun never had a mother, but if he had, he was sure she would be exactly like Zhuo Yichen.

"But you're a demon..." The great demon murmured, making Zhuo Yichen rise a brow.

Zhao Yuanzhou looked around for help, only for everyone to laugh quietly as they ate, mere spectators to the couples daily scabble.

In the end, the demon smiled, eyes fond of nothing but adoration. "Of course not, my dear." He replied, eating the shrimp given to him without hesitation.

The King of Demons his fucking foot, Li Lun scoffed, protector of the Wilderness. Nothing but a fraud, the bastard.

"Anyway, where were we..." Zhao Yuanzhou hummed nonchalantly, his voice smooth as he took a long, deliberate gulp from his wooden gourd. His eyes fluttered closed as if savouring the moment, likely cleansing his palate from the shrimp. "Ah, yes. Demon forms. Ying Lei is right, not all tiger spirits produce other tiger spirits."

The air seemed to hum with his words, a soft ripple of curiosity running through the group. But before anyone could respond, Li Lun spoke up, his tone calm and measured as ever. He nodded in appreciation to Pei Sijing, who had just poured him another steaming cup of tea. He cradled the cup carefully, letting the warmth seep into his hands, though the chill in the air refused to retreat.

He had positioned himself deliberately in the sun’s direct path, but despite its golden rays spilling over him, the cold still gnawed at his bones. The weather had been unusually harsh, the sun’s warmth offering little comfort.

"It's all about balance," Li Lun continued, his voice low, almost thoughtful. "Us demons, we don't have parents, unlike the half-demons. We're not born in the same way. We are merely by-products of energy, of the world's karma, and whatever path it decides to cast us on."

His eyes flicked to Bai Jiu, who was staring at him with rapt attention, the young boy’s curiosity practically radiating off him. Li Lun couldn’t help but pause for a moment, he cleared his throat, shifting in his seat, suddenly aware of the eyes upon him.

"For example," he began slowly, his voice dropping into a more serious tone, "if I were to..." He trailed off, as if considering the full implications of what he was about to say. His gaze shifted back to Bai Jiu, who hadn’t once broken his stare, "dual cultivate... with another pagoda tree spirit, depending on the amount of spiritual energy we produce, the inner core formed could go to another pagoda tree... or, I don’t know, perhaps a python."

Zhuo Yichen furrowed his brows, his shoulders hunching against the biting wind. His gaze shifted to Zhao Yuanzhou, the faintest trace of confusion flickering in his eyes. "So, you could have gotten your primordial form from another spirit?" His voice was quiet, but the question hung in the air.

Zhao Yuanzhou didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he shrugged off his cloak with a fluid motion, the fabric billowing in the cold gusts before he draped it over Zhuo Yichen’s black-furred one. Then, as if the chill in the air were nothing but an afterthought, Zhao Yuanzhou raised his fingers to his lips in a seal, whispering a command.

"No," Zhao Yuanzhou replied, his voice low and surprisingly soft as he ran a finger through a strand of Zhuo Yichen’s hair, twisting the long, silky lock between his fingers. "Mine has always been an ape." 

Zhao Yuanzhou’s fingers stilled for a moment before he glanced up at the others, a small, playful smirk tugging at his mouth. "Li Lun, on the other hand," he continued, his voice shifting into something a bit more teasing, "came from a koi fish couple."

Li Lun shrugged nonchalantly when everyone turned to him, not brothered with providing an explanation. However, unexpectedly, Wen Xiao poked his cheek, making him jump in surprise. And for a brief second, it was as if she was wondering if he were even real at all.

"Must have been two very grumpy koi fish." She joked, earning a smile from Pei Sijing.

Ying Lei scoffed. "Koi fish demons are usually docile creatures. Karma must have been high when it created his inner core."

"That makes sense." Bai Jiu agreed with a serious nod.

"Interesting koi fish pair indeed." Zhuo Yichen agreed, a teasing smile curving his lips as he reached for an orange.

Li Lun clicked his tongue, glaring daggers at Zhao Yuanzhou for being the cause of this mess as everyone else laughed at his expense. His friend merely shrugged as he placed a kiss on the strand of hair he was playing with, taking amusement in their jabs that weren't aimed against him for once.

Li Lun had to figure out when to leave this unorthodox group of people.

"So... no dragon?" Wen Xiao concluded, sounding slightly disappointed.

"I'm just saying not to be too optimistic." Zhao Yuanzhou clarified. He then leaned more into Zhuo Yichen's personal space, smiling blissfully. "I'm sure my Xiao Zhou will be beautiful in whatever form."

Li Lun wanted to gag, while the rest rolled their eyes and went back to eating their food while it was still somewhat warm.

Zhuo Yichen sighed, a soft exhale of frustration mixed with fond resignation. He shook his head, his expression softening as he realized there was no point in trying to curb Zhao Yuanzhou’s antics anymore for today. With a gesture that could have been a silent surrender, he reached for the small, ripe orange in his hand and extended it toward the demon. 

Zhao Yuanzhou’s eyes lit up immediately, a wide grin stretching across his face. He leaned in, his lips brushing the side of Zhuo Yichen’s temple in a soft, fleeting kiss. He took the orange with a flourish, his fingers nimble as he halved it with ease. Without missing a beat, he plucked a piece, popping it into his mouth with exaggerated enjoyment.

Li Lun raised an eyebrow, a sceptical look crossing his features as he leaned back, arms crossed. "Since when did you eat oranges?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of amusement mixed with genuine confusion. He remembered well how Zhao Yuanzhou had once looked appalled at the very thought of the fruit, recoiling in horror when their master had offered it to him all those years ago. "I thought you hated—"

Zhao Yuanzhou’s response was swift, a piece of the citrus fruit shoved into Li Lun’s mouth mid-sentence to silence him. The sharp, tangy flavour burst in his mouth as the demon shot him a smug, satisfied look. "I don’t know what you’re talking about," he said.

Zhuo Yichen merely gave Zhao Yuanzhou a side-eye, his lips curving into a knowing smile, but he said nothing. 

Ah, that explains it, Li Lun thought with an eye roll.

Using a slender twig from the ground and the discarded peel, Zhuo Yichen crafted a small pinwheel. Once finished, he handed it to Bai Jiu, whose wide eyes lit up with interest. Li Lun watched as the cold breeze picked up, making the little pinwheel spin in slow, mesmerizing circles. 

"Thank you so much, Zhou gege!" Bai Jiu practically screamed. "Great demon can you use your one-word commands to preserve it? Wait no— What if something happens to you and the spell is broken? Let me go make something instead!" And he was half way out of his sit before Ying Lei pushed him back down.

"Relax, I can make you more pinwheels if that one gets ruined." He said, patting the young doctor's head.

Bai Jiu clicked his tongue and swatted his hand away. "Why would I want yours when Zhou gege already gave me one? Don't be stupid."

Ying Lei huffed, crossing his arms over his chest in annoyance.

"Okay, okay." Zhuo Yichen chuckled, coaxing the two kids to calm down. He took the pinwheel from Bai Jiu's hand and put it in his pony tail, giving it a little spin. "I'll make you another one later." He pinched his face teasingly before turning to the mountain god. "Here, for you Ying Lei." He held out another pinwheel, second peeled orange in his palm.

Ying Lei immediately brightened, leaning his head down so Zhuo Yichen could place the pinwheel in his hair as well.

"Children..." Wen Xiao sighed, looking at them fondly.

Li Lun scoffed, to think these were the people that defeated him.

He reached over for the pot of tea, only for his vision to be obstructed by an orange. He looked over, the young master smiling at him.

"I prefer apples." He found himself saying, still reaching for the orange in Zhuo Yichen palm.

Pei Sijing chuckled. "We'll remember that."

He took a bite out of the orange, much sweeter than he anticipated. Perhaps... he could stay a while longer, not like he anything else to do.

Yeah, a while more wouldn't hurt.

Chapter Text

Five more corpses turned up in Tiandu, each one an added grim cloud in the city's growing unease. The once-bustling streets, vibrant even under the silver glow of moonlight, now stood eerily silent as the hours crept toward nightfall. Lanterns that should have been swaying gently above open stalls flickered over nothing but empty benches and overturned crates. The aroma of sizzling skewers and sweet pastries were now nothing but a small whiff in the air gone with a gentle breeze; vendors beginning to pack up early, their laughter replaced by murmurs of dread.

It was an unnatural silence that blanketed Tiandu, one that even the youngest children seemed to recognize. Doors shut earlier, windows locked tighter, the night left to the faint echoes of boots on cobblestones as patrols stalked the streets. Demons and humans have found a way to coexist since their battle against Wen Zongyu, but now, it felt as if that tentative peace was slipping through their fingers, unravelling thread by thread with every shrivelled corpse they found.

It wasn't chaos yet, but it hovered at the edges, waiting. The whispers were everywhere, casting shadows even in daylight. An unknown demon prowled their city, that much was certain, but who — or what — remained elusive. False leads piled up like dead leaves on a forgotten road: fleeting glimpses, panicked accusations, nothing more than the desperate gasps of terrified minds.

The pressure from above was relentless as well. Each day brought fresh demands, harsher orders, and more meetings filled with empty promises. And through it all, Zhao Yuanzhou lounged as if the weight of Tiandu's crumbling peace was not something he should feel pressured by. To him, the case could simmer on its own until a clue decided to fall conveniently into his lap.

But his beloved was not like him.

Where Zhao Yuanzhou slouched in lazy defiance of the chaos, Zhuo Yichen burned with purpose. Every false lead fuelled his beloved's drive, every dead end sharpened his resolve. To Xiao Zhuo, this was not just about solving a mystery or appeasing their superiors. It was about preserving what little progress had been made, about proving that humans and demons could share a future.

"Xiao Zhuo. I can hear you thinking, my love."

The words were spoken with a soft, fond sigh, tinged with amusement as Zhao Yuanzhou leaned back against the doorframe. His gaze lingered on the figure seated cross-legged on the floor, bathed in the pale light of winter streaming through the window. It painted Zhuo Yichen in shades of gold and frost, making him appear almost otherworldly.

Zhuo Yichen didn't answer, his focus unbroken. The stillness in the room was palpable, broken only by the faint rustle of the curtains swaying in a breeze too weak to pierce the winter chill. Yet even in his silence, Yichen was magnetic, drawing Zhao Yuanzhou's gaze as effortlessly as the moon pulls the tides.

He was breath-taking, the kind of beauty that made Zhao Yuanzhou's heart ache and his chest tighten. The silk of his ink-black hair spilled over his shoulders, catching threads of sunlight as it framed his face, only his bells braided into them. The sharp angles of his nose and jaw softened by the fullness of his lips and the gentle curve of his cheeks. His body, graceful yet strong, plump in all the right places.

Zhao Yuanzhou's claws itched beneath his skin, his fangs threatening to press against his lips as he stared, captivated. It was always like this — Zhuo Yichen could walk into a room, even one filled with the brightest lights and most dazzling displays, and the great demon's attention would still anchor solely to him. It wasn't just desire; it was something deeper, something primal, something he couldn't tame even if he wanted to.

The thought of his claws piercing that glowing skin, of tasting the essence of his beloved on his tongue, sent a shiver down his spine. He would love Xiao Zhuo in every lifetime, in every universe, with every ounce of his being. Even if it meant that love would never be returned. Even if it meant living every day knowing his feelings were unspoken prayers, whispered into the void.

How could he not love someone like Zhuo Yichen? Even if the world gave him a thousand reasons to stop, Zhao Yuanzhou would never choose anything else.

"Baobei."

The word slipped from Zhao Yuanzhou's lips, low and warm, as he stepped closer to the still figure on the floor.

This wasn't the first time Yichen had sunk so deeply into his meditation that he seemed to shut the world out entirely, but Zhao Yuanzhou could tell this time was different. The air around him thrummed with tension, his usually serene aura frayed at the edges. His mind wasn't clear, not today. Zhao Yuanzhou didn't need to hear his thoughts to know why — the weight of this case pressed down on Yichen more than anyone else.

It always did.

The people of Tiandu looked up to Zhuo Yichen, once their hero, their beacon of hope. But becoming a demon had changed everything. It was the way people looked at him now, with something just shy of fear glinting in their eyes. Though they were beginning to accept him again, it was a slow, grudging process, and Zhuo Yichen bore it all silently. Always silently.

He always took it all upon himself. Every whisper, every wary glance, every burden. It was an agonizing uphill climb to rebuild what had been lost, and he refused to let anyone help carry the load.

But Zhao Yuanzhou wasn't just anyone.

If he could shield his Xiao Zhuo from every cruel word and mistrustful gaze, he would. If he could crush every human who dared look at his beloved with anything less than reverence, he wouldn't hesitate. There wasn't a corner of heaven or hell Zhao Yuanzhou wouldn't destroy to protect him.

"Xiao Zhuo."

His voice softened further as he lowered himself to a crouch, resting on his heels before the man he loved. The world outside seemed to vanish — his only focus was the figure before him bathed in cold sunlight.

From this close, Yuanzhou could see every detail. The icy veins tracing the side of his neck glowed faintly, an ethereal blue against skin so pale it almost seemed translucent. His lips pressed into a tight line as if trying to hold back the weight of his thoughts, his brows furrowed.

Reaching out, Zhao Yuanzhou let his knuckle brush against the tip of Yichen's nose with a featherlight touch.

Yichen's nose scrunched instinctively, the faintest flicker of annoyance cracking through his meditative mask.

Zhao Yuanzhou sighed, the sound filled with an almost amused exasperation as he wondered — not for the first time — how one demon could hold this much fondness for a single soul. It seemed impossible, unnatural even, yet there it was, swelling in his chest every time he so much as glanced at Zhuo Yichen. He tilted his head, watching his beloved.

With a playful glint in his red eyes, he reached out and pinched Yichen's cheek, the skin soft and cool beneath his fingers. He twisted gently, just enough to ensure the reaction he wanted.

"Come on, Airen," he teased. "Come back to me."

It worked, of course. Slowly, Yichen's long lashes fluttered, the movement delicate as wings against the planes of his cheeks. His blue eyes blinked open, and Zhao Yuanzhou couldn't help the small grin that tugged at the corners of his lips. The faint glow of icy veins receded from Yichen's skin like snow melting under sunlight.

For a moment, Yichen looked lost, his brows knitting together as he glanced around the room, the lingering haze of meditation clinging to him like mist. His confusion made him look younger, almost boyish.

Then Yichen's gaze landed on him, recognition softening the tension in his face.

"Is it lunchtime already?" He asked, with the faintest trace of curiosity beneath it. He relaxed under Zhao Yuanzhou's touch, leaning into the demon's palm like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Yuanzhou raised a brow, chuckling softly. "It's still the hour of Chen, love," he replied, his tone teasing but gentle.

"Oh," his little wife breathed out, the single word so quiet it barely reached Zhao Yuanzhou's ears.

Zhao Yuanzhou's smile faltered, just for a fraction of a second, before he leaned closer, his thumb brushing over the place on Zhuo Yichen's cheek where he'd pinched moments ago.

Zhao Yuanzhou got up, extending a hand, his grip firm as he helped his lover to his feet. Once Yichen was standing, the great demon leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

Zhuo Yichen was lost in his thoughts again. Zhao Yuanzhou could see it in the way his shoulders carried a tension that didn't belong, the slight downward tilt of his head, and the faraway look in his frost-bright eyes. It wasn't often Yichen allowed himself to sink so deeply into that mire of self-imposed expectations, but when he did, it was a descent Zhao Yuanzhou knew too well.

He still remembered the first time it happened. He could still see Yichen hunched over his desk, the dim light of an oil lamp casting shadows across his features. His beloved had worked himself to the bone, night after night, the hours bleeding into one another until it felt as though time itself had bent under the weight of his obsession. He wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep, his once-bright eyes dulled by exhaustion. The dark circles beneath them had deepened until they looked almost carved into his pale skin.

Even Bai Jiu had failed to coax him from the suffocating confines of his study. It had taken everything in Zhao Yuanzhou not to intervene, to respect the boundaries he didn't yet have the right to cross.

But things were different now.

Zhao Yuanzhou wasn't just a bystander anymore, wasn't forced to stand on the periphery and watch the person he loved slowly unravel. Now, he could step in, could meddle, could be as bothersome as he pleased — and he would, unapologetically. His Xiao Zhuo could huff and roll his eyes, could sigh and call him a nuisance, but Zhao Yuanzhou knew Yichen would always forgive him. Even if it was reluctantly, even if it came with a glare that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Because a part of him knew Zhuo Yichen understood.

He understood that Zhao Yuanzhou's love wasn't gentle or distant or restrained — it was relentless, fierce, and unyielding. It was the kind of love that pushed its way into locked rooms and dragged him back into the light, no matter how deeply he tried to bury himself in the shadows.

And as long as Zhuo Yichen carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, Zhao Yuanzhou would be there to carry him.

"Want some tea?" Zhao Yuanzhou asked.

Yichen wore his cream-colored robes today, the usual blue he favoured set aside. The bells in his hair caught the faintest light, glinting softly in the room. He didn't answer immediately, merely shaking his head. Instead, Zhuo Yichen pursed his lips, his expression distant. Zhao Yuanzhou recognized the subtle tension in his jaw.

"Just..." Yichen finally began, his voice trailing off as he searched for the words. His brows furrowed, the faintest crease forming between them before smoothing out again. "Just thinking. Nothing to worry about."

The smile he gave then was soft, the kind of smile that could make Zhao Yuanzhou forget everything, if only for a moment.

But not this time.

He knew his beloved too intimately, too thoroughly, to be fooled. Nothing to worry about was Zhuo Yichen's way of saying I'm worrying too much.

Zhao Yuanzhou tugged him gently but insistently toward the couch, his movements fluid and deceptively casual. Zhuo Yichen let out a soft, startled yelp as he stumbled and found himself collapsing unceremoniously into Zhao Yuanzhou's lap. The sound was so endearing that the demon couldn't help the grin spreading across his face.

His lover shot him a glare, sharp enough to wound if not for the tell-tale quirk of his lips moments later. The annoyance melted away, replaced by a smile that betrayed his fondness. It was small at first, almost reluctant, but it grew as he shifted, adjusting his position with ease until he was straddling the great demon. His arms slid around Zhao Yuanzhou's shoulders, and without hesitation, he buried his face into the curve of his neck.

For a moment, all Yuanzhou could do was breathe him in. The scent of him was familiar now, a comforting blend of clean, crisp winter air and something faintly herbal, like the tea he always drank before bed. It grounded him, softened the edges of a world that too often felt sharp and unforgiving.

And yet, even now, the novelty of it never faded.

Because out there, beyond these walls, Zhuo Yichen was a force of nature. He was unshakable, the kind of man who seemed carved from stone. People spoke his name in respect, their gazes filled with awe and admiration. He was the hero they relied on, the commander who inspired loyalty and obedience. The citizens placed their hopes and dreams upon his shoulders, and Zhuo Yichen bore it all with stoic determination, no matter the toll it took.

But in here, within the quiet sanctity of their makeshift home, he was someone else entirely.

Here, Zhuo Yichen wasn't the legendary demon hunter. He wasn't the figure of authority the bureau demanded, nor the steadfast pillar the townsfolk leaned upon. Here, behind these doors, he was something smaller, softer — a man who allowed himself to be vulnerable, to let go of the weight he carried.

Here, he was just Xiao Zhuo.

This Zhuo Yichen didn't hide his smile behind layers of frowns, didn't shield himself with sharp words when affection was offered. This Zhuo Yichen let himself relax, allowed himself to lean on someone else for once.

Zhao Yuanzhou's gaze softened as he looked at him, taking in the faint shadows under his eyes and the way his shoulders seemed so much smaller than the world believed them to be. Those shoulders weren't made to carry the weight of everyone's expectations, no matter how much Zhuo Yichen tried.

No — those shoulders were Zhao Yuanzhou's to hold, his to protect.

To Zhao Yuanzhou, he was simply Zhuo Yichen. His beloved. His Xiao Zhuo, who fit so perfectly into his arms, whose every frown Zhao Yuanzhou wanted to smooth away, whose every smile felt like sunlight breaking through the coldest winter sky.

They lingered in their quiet bubble for a while, the world outside forgotten, the silence between them broken only by the soft rhythm of their breaths and the faint, steady cadence of their hearts.

After what felt like an eternity, Zhuo Yichen finally broke the stillness. "Do you really have no clue who the culprit is?"

Zhao Yuanzhou's response wasn't immediate. His lips brushed against the exposed skin of his beloved's collarbone, where the neckline of his robe dipped just enough to reveal a sliver of pale flesh.

He felt the shiver that ran through Zhuo Yichen's body, a delicate tremor that made his lips curve into a smirk against the heated skin. The faintest scent of his lover's blood lingered there, tantalizingly close, and Zhao Yuanzhou's fangs ached at the memory of sinking into that same spot just two nights ago. The marks he'd left then were already fading, but their absence only made his hunger flare.

"Would you believe me," Zhao Yuanzhou murmured, his voice low and teasing as he trailed a line of soft, featherlight kisses along Yichen's collarbone, "if I said I really don't?"

"Zhao Yuanzhou."

The demon stilled, his smirk unfaltering as he looked up. Zhuo Yichen was staring at him now with a stern gaze, his hands curling into the fabric of Zhao Yuanzhou's robes, pulling him forward.

"I'm serious," Yichen said, his voice steady.

Zhao Yuanzhou's lips curled into a sly smile, his hands finding their place on either side of Xiao Zhuo's hips. The curve of his lover's hips felt wider than he remembered, and it sent a shiver down his spine — the animalistic side of him stirring to life. He let the thought linger, revelling in it.

With a slow, deliberate pull, he brought Zhuo Yichen closer, their bodies aligning effortlessly. The soft chime of bells in his hair echoed faintly in the stillness of the room, a delicate sound that felt almost out of place. His beloved, perched above him, shifted slightly, and the movement sent a sigh trembling at the edges of his lips before he bit it back, refusing to give Zhao Yuanzhou the satisfaction.

"Then," the great demon began, his voice a low, velvety drawl that carried a teasing edge, "would you reward me if I said I might have a clue?" He tilted his head as he spoke, his gaze fixed on Zhuo Yichen with an intensity that made the air feel thicker.

His beloved's reaction was immediate. His posture straightened, and his eyes widened, excitement sparking in their dark depths. It was almost childlike, the way his whole body seemed to lean forward. "Wait, really?" He breathed, his voice carrying a note of hope he couldn't quite conceal.

Zhao Yuanzhou raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement. "I take that as a yes?" He asked, his tone light.

At that, Xiao Zhuo's enthusiasm was short-lived, his brows knitting together in irritation as realization dawned. He gave Zhao Yuanzhou a pointed look, one that could have been scolding if not for the faint, betrayed pout tugging at his lips. Without hesitation, he punched Yuanzhou's shoulder.

"Would being serious for even five minutes really kill you?" Yichen snapped.

Zhao Yuanzhou rubbed the area he was punched, sometimes forgetting how strong his little wife was even without trying to be.

Strands of Zhuo Yichen's hair cascaded over his face, brushing against his skin like the softest whispers of a feather. The golden light of the sun poured through the window behind him, the edges of his figure blurred by the radiance, accentuating the faint marks scattered across his exposed skin.

A deity, Zhao Yuanzhou thought, a holy seductress that men would kneel before without question.

Had hell not been where he'd lay sanctuary after death, then Zhao Yuanzhou might just think this was heaven before him.

Gently, with a tenderness that seemed at odds with the claws that threatened to breach his fingertips, he brushed the errant strands of hair from Yichen's face. His fingers lingered for a moment, tucking the silken locks behind his lover's ear before cradling his cheek in the curve of his palm.

"My beautiful wife," Zhao Yuanzhou murmured. "You worry over useless things."

Zhuo Yichen leaned into his touch, the gesture so small yet so precious, something he could only have behind these closed doors. He pursed his lips, a soft sigh slipping past them. "It's not useless, you stupid monkey," he grumbled.

Zhao Yuanzhou's lips twitched into a smirk as he flicked Yichen's nose with a finger. "Anything that makes you worry is useless," he said, and for all his teasing, there was a solemnity to his tone.

Yichen rolled his eyes, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips before he turned his gaze toward the window. His expression shifted, softening as he looked at the snow gently falling outside.

The world beyond their home was bathed in white, the freshly fallen snow blanketing the trees and ground in a pristine shimmer. Under the sunlight, it sparkled as if the earth itself had been adorned with fragments of a dream.

"It's just..." Yichen started, his voice trailing off as he searched for the words. His eyes remained fixed on the falling snow, watching as it drifted lazily from the heavens. "It's been one week. And the citizens are getting more restless by the second." His words came out as a whisper.

Zhao Yuanzhou let his gaze linger on his lover, the faint worry etched into his brow, the tension in his lips.

"One week is far less than other cases we've had, my love," Zhao Yuanzhou tried gently, poking Zhuo Yichen's side to at least get a smile.

The great demon got a breathless giggle instead, and for a single second he just wished for the world to halt in place, for he wanted to hear Xiao Zhuo laugh for an eternity.

But the fleeting smile didn't last long.

"I know..." The young demon murmured, but his voice had taken on an edge. "But this time, it's different." Yichen's words were soft, but they held a firmness that made Zhao Yuanzhou pause, flecks of blue shining through his human pupils. "The people of Tiandu have just started to accept you. After so long, they don't view you as a threat anymore. They've started to accept demons."

Ah, this was about him. The thought made Zhao Yuanzhou's chest tighten, his pulse quickening. A low laugh bubbled up from the depths of him, though it was muffled by the tightening of his throat. He wanted to reach out, to pull Zhuo Yichen into a kiss so deep, so consuming, and never let the world see him again.

Zhuo Yichen wasn't like him. He cared, in a way that was different but just as fierce. Sometimes, Zhao Yuanzhou forgot that. He forgot that he wasn't the only one in love. He was so sure of the strength of his own feelings, so certain of his devotion to Zhuo Yichen, that he sometimes lost sight of the fact that Yichen loved him in return.

Just as fiercely. Just as deeply.

A sudden lump formed in his throat, the back of his eyes stinging with emotions. Just what has he done in his past life to get this lucky?

"Love," he said, burying his face in Zhuo Yichen's chest to hide away his teary eyes, "you're demon too." He chuckled, biting down the tremble in his voice. Always leave it to Xiao Zhuo to worry about others and not include himself.

Zhuo Yichen looped his arms around Zhao Yuanzhou's neck, pulling him in closer, the weight of his body sinking into the demon's lap. "I know," Yichen murmured softly, his voice laced with a quiet sorrow that tugged at Zhao Yuanzhou's chest. "But it's different for me." His fingers threaded through the strands of Zhao Yuanzhou's hair, other hand finding its way to Zhao Yuanzhou's scalp, scratching lightly, sending a warm ripple of comfort through him.

"It was easy for me to be accepted again. They just needed a reason to trust me again." Zhuo Yichen continued, his voice growing quieter as he relaxed further into Zhao Yuanzhou's lap. He seemed almost boneless, as if the stress of the world had momentarily lifted. "But you..." Yichen's voice faltered slightly. "It took you so long to finally integrate with them after everything. I don't want you to go through that again."

Zhao Yuanzhou really left like he was going to cry. Really, Zhuo Yichen was a master at making him feel loved — and these simple words alone were better than any love declaration he has ever heard.

He blinked rapidly, trying to push down the overwhelming emotions swirling in his chest. He let out a laugh, a breathless chuckle that barely covered the tightness in his throat. "I ever tell you you worry too much?" He joked, looking up at his lover.

Xiao Zhuo huffed in disbelief, his hand gently pulling at Zhao Yuanzhou's cheek with a small, affectionate scold. "You don't worry enough," he retorted.

Zhao Yuanzhou smiled, a sense of contentment washing over him. "I don't care what they think. They can accept me or they can throw rocks at me." Despite all their flaws, he still loved humans, loved living among them, but he had never had the need for them to love him back. He already had everything wrapped around his arms. "I'm the strongest demon, they couldn't harm me even if they wanted to."

Xiao Zhuo rolled his eyes, laughing in disbelieve. "Aren't you cocky?"

Zhao Yuanzhou simply shrugged, a sly smile curling at the corners of his lips. "I'm just stating the truth," he said, his voice dripping with playful arrogance. "Even if they wanted me dead, they wouldn't know that the only one who could kill me has already become my wife." The smirk that followed was a thing of pure smugness, confidence seeping from every word.

His beloved's eyes narrowed slightly, and he pulled away just enough to meet Zhao Yuanzhou's gaze with a look of utter deadpan disbelief. The subtle tilt of his head only made the humour in his expression more evident. "Again with the nonsense," Xiao Zhuo said, voice flat. "I don't remember agreeing to any of this, let alone having a ceremony."

Zhao Yuanzhou clicked his tongue in mock disappointment, dramatically waving a hand in the air as though dismissing the matter with a mere flick. "Formalities, such human things," he said with a playful roll of his eyes. "They're pointless to us demons." His exaggerated tone made the air lighter, and before long, a soft laugh escaped from Zhuo Yichen's lips, the tension in the room melting away just a little.

Zhao Yuanzhou let his hand settle on his lover's waist. "My point is, stop wasting time worrying in that pretty little head of yours," he said, the teasing tone fading as the sincerity of his words emerged. His gaze softened, locking with Yichen's. "I've got a clue on who it might be, but I'm not yet sure."

Xiao Zhuo's expression shifted then — his brow arched.

"Do you want to share?" Zhuo Yichen asked, his voice low and measured, but the intrigue was clear. He leaned in just slightly, as though waiting for Zhao Yuanzhou to unveil the secret, his eyes fixed on him with a quiet intensity.

"When I'm more certain."

There has been a name floating around in his head for a few days now, but he didn't want to jump to conclusions too soon yet. He was biding his time until something concrete came along. But seeing how Zhuo Yichen has started to get really worried, it was better to let him at least know Zhao Yuanzhou had something.

A look scepticism took over Xiao Zhuo's eyes. "You better not be working with them." He warned, narrowing his eyes.

Zhao Yuanzhou groaned, falling back against the coach. "That was once, Xiao Zhuo. Let my crime rest." He drawled, still not finished with the theatrics. Honestly, just how long are the rest of them planning to hold it over his head?

The demon hunter gave him a look, flicking his temple. "We'll see about that."

Zhao Yuanzhou caught Yichen's hand before he could retreat, kissing his palm. As much as he would like to pretend to be offended, seeing Xiao Zhuo smile was the bigger goal. "No more worrying, okay?" He whispered against his skin, pulling the younger demon close until they were face to face.

Zhuo Yichen nodded, face dusting a light pink at the sudden closeness.

Zhao Yuanzhou pressed his lips to Zhuo Yichen's, the soft warmth of their kiss tinged with the lingering sweetness of honey from their earlier breakfast. It was a kiss that lingered, deep and slow, until Zhao Yuanzhou could feel his lover's breath hitch, his pulse quickening beneath his touch.

He reluctantly pulled away, his lips grazing against Yichen's one last time, savouring the brief moment of closeness before his eyes met those of his beloved. Zhuo Yichen's eyes fluttered open, still clouded with the remnants of their kiss, and Zhao Yuanzhou's fingers dug into the soft flesh of his hips through the fabric of his robes, enough to leave a mark.

"Words, my love," Zhao Yuanzhou demanded softly.

Zhuo Yichen let out a long, exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes in a familiar way that Zhao Yuanzhou could never get enough of. Without missing a beat, he leaned in and pressed a quick, teasing peck to his lips. "Yes, yes, my stupid monkey demon," he muttered, the words warm with affection.

"For the millionth time," Zhao Yuanzhou grumbled, feigning annoyance, though there was no real heat behind it. "I'm an ape, not a monkey."

Then, Zhao Yuanzhou's smile returned, sly and full of mischief. "Now," he whispered, his voice smooth as silk, "about that reward..."

Zhuo Yichen's laughter rang out, filling the room with warmth and light. His eyes sparkled, alive with joy, and in that moment, Zhao Yuanzhou couldn't help but drink in the sight of his lover.

"You're impossible, Zhao Yuanzhou." Xiao Zhuo gasped between laughs, breathless, his eyes still glinting with amusement. And in that fleeting moment, Zhao Yuanzhou had never loved his name more.

Without another word, he moved with fluid grace, sweeping Xiao Zhuo into his arms in a bridal carry.

"How could I resist when I have a beautiful wife like you in my arms?" Zhao Yuanzhou said, falling helplessly onto the bed in a mixture of limbs, soft kisses and giggles.

What stirred Zhao Yuanzhou from his peaceful sleep was the relentless knocking at the door, each thuk, thuk, thuk echoing through the quiet of the room. He barely registered the sound at first, too comfortable in the warmth of his bed and the soft presence of Zhuo Yichen beside him. His beloved lay curled up against him, face nestled into his bare chest, breathing softly, the gentle rise and fall of his body the only rhythm in the otherwise still air.

Zhao Yuanzhou let out a low, almost inaudible click of his tongue, a murmured command slipping from his lips as his fingers formed a seal. Instantly, the noise ceased.

His beloved pressed deeper into Zhao Yuanzhou's warmth, the steady pulse beneath his skin seeming to lull him into a deeper slumber. Zhao Yuanzhou smiled tenderly at the sight, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to Zhuo Yichen's temple.

Reluctantly, though, Zhao Yuanzhou slowly shifted to get up, his feet brushing against the cold floor, the chill jarring against the warmth of the bed.

But just as his feet touched the floor, a pair of arms wrapped around his middle, pulling him back into the bed. Zhao Yuanzhou chuckled softly, a fond smile curling on his lips. He glanced down at Zhuo Yichen, whose brow furrowed in his sleep, a soft snore escaping his lips as he clung to him like the great demon was the only thing keeping him grounded.

"I'm still here, baobei," he whispered tenderly, his voice warm as it brushed against Zhuo Yichen's ear, "I'll be back."

Zhao Yuanzhou carefully eased Zhuo Yichen's arm from around his middle, his movements slow so as not to disturb the peaceful slumber of his beloved. But the moment he shifted, Zhuo Yichen immediately grabbed Zhao Yuanzhou's pillow. The soft rustling of fabric filled the room as his beloved curled into the pillow, burying his face into its softness and turning away from him.

In the sudden movement, the blanket slid down, cool air of the room kissing the exposed skin of Zhuo Yichen's back. Bruises and marks covered the entire expanse of his pale skin, and Zhao Yuanzhou could practically still feel his nails digging into Xiao Zhuo's plump hips. The claw marks were still there, followed by a string of bite marks until they led to one large, bulging red mark at the base of Zhuo Yichen's neck.

Zhao Yuanzhou had healed the blood away, but it was still fresh, the flesh around it still angry and swollen, a warning to all humans and demons — a claim.

His eyes travelled down further to the swell of his ass, and Zhao Yuanzhou couldn't resist the pull, the irresistible urge to touch, to feel, to soothe the wounds that marred his beloved's skin. Zhuo Yichen shifted in his sleep, his body instinctively trying to move away from the cold touch. Zhao Yuanzhou soothed the raw skin, smiling to himself when see saw that his handprint still hadn't faded.

His beloved stirred again, and Zhao Yuanzhou moved his hand as if he were touching lava. He quickly pulled the blanket over Zhuo Yichen, covering him fully from his eyes.

He'd be a monster to wake Yichen up in his exhausted state because he couldn't control himself.

He clicked his tongue, feeling his cock stiffen again. Think about killing a horse. Killing a horse... he repeated to himself until he had calmed down. As much as Xiao Zhuo liked to scold him for his shamelessness, Zhao Yuanzhou knew when to hold back. Honestly, Zhuo Yichen should be praising him, not berating.

With one last look at his lover, he got up from bed. He grabbed his clothes from the floor, wearing the inner layers and simply draping the outer one on his shoulders, the dark red and black fabric sweeping the floor as he walked to the door.

He finally opened it, greeted with Li Lun's back.

"Are you decent?" Was the first thing the tree spirit asked.

Zhao Yuanzhou rose a brow. "Why don't you turn around and check."

He could feel Li Lun's eye roll before he saw it, an unimpressed look on his face as he turned around. "I can feel your malicious energy from down the corridor." He tutted. "Do consider that you two aren't the only ones who live in this place."

Zhao Yuanzhou leaned against the door frame, a smile ghosting his lips. "One cannot help it when their lover looks so insatiable—"

"Let me stop you right there." His friend interrupted, giving him a disapproving look. "I'm not here to listen to your bed time activities. Nor am I interested in them."

The great demon sighed deeply, his once mischievous smile slipping from his lips. His eyes darkened with a flicker of irritation. "Then why are you here?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "You made me leave my beloved wife for this. This better be important, or I swear, I'll send you straight back into seclusion."

Li Lun's shoulders slumped, a quiet sigh escaping his lips as his gaze fell to the floor, the frustration evident in the furrow of his brow. "I should have made Wen Xiao come here..." His words were more to himself, but they were loud enough to carry through air.

He peeked over Zhao Yuanzhou's shoulder, his eyes scanning the room, but the great demon shifted slightly, blocking his view. With a tilt of his head and a playful arch of an eyebrow, Zhao Yuanzhou's gaze snapped toward him.

"Only look at the things you are supposed to look at, dear friend," Zhao Yuanzhou's voice was laced with humour, but there was an unmistakable thread of warning beneath the words.

Li Lun snorted, the sound almost a mixture of exasperation and amusement. "Well, Wen Xiao has a lead on the case," he muttered, barely able to keep the sarcasm from his voice. "She wants us gathered before lunch."

Zhao Yuanzhou frowned at the last bit, looking over his shoulder towards the window. "It's already lunch time?" It barely felt like an hour. Then again, time always seemed to slow down when he was with Zhuo Yichen.

"Just how long—" Li Lun started, his voice laced with a sharp edge of exasperation, but he cut himself off with a frustrated sigh, shaking his head as if the mere thought was already too much. "Never mind," he muttered, his tone almost resigned. "Don't answer that. I don't want to know that either."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, his expression twisted into one of almost painful disbelief, the kind that came from years of dealing with Zhao Yuanzhou's antics. He looked like he was on the verge of throwing his hands up in surrender, as if leaving the situation entirely might be the only way to preserve his sanity.

"Are you going to wake up your wife or what?" Li Lun shot back, his voice edging towards impatience now. "The rest are waiting."

Zhao Yuanzhou chuckled, his smile softening. "Give me ten minutes, and I'll be there. I'll tell Xiao Zhuo the details later, though. He's too tired to get up."

Li Lun's grimace deepened. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he turned on his heel and began to walk away, his steps brisk. But he barely made it five steps before he came to a grinding halt. His whole body froze, his gaze snapping back to Zhao Yuanzhou as if something urgent had just struck him. With a sharp pivot, he turned fully around, fixing the great demon with a pointed glare.

"Also," Li Lun grumbled, his voice low but full of biting frustration, "get rid of this already." His hand swept dramatically through the air, a vague but emphatic gesture as though he were physically trying to push away the thick, oppressive aura that had wrapped itself around them. "Any lesser person or demon would've fainted by now. You're not a dog, stop covering him in your malicious energy like you're trying to scent him." His words were sharp and laced with distaste, his gaze flicking from the air around them to the demon's face.

Zhao Yuanzhou laughed, eyes glowing red at the memory of Zhuo Yichen's pupils dilating and glowing an equally vibrant blue when he was being filled up by Zhao Yuanzhou's qi.

He seriously needed a cold shower.

"Xiao Zhuo not planning to join us today?" Wen Xiao asked as she strode into the room, her voice lilting with playful teasing. A knowing smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

Zhao Yuanzhou chuckled, and with practiced ease he snapped the jade pendant in his hand, the sharp crack echoing faintly in the quiet room. The delicate fragments fell into his wooden gourd with a soft clink, and he gave it a slow, deliberate swirl.

"He's a bit... tired," Zhao Yuanzhou replied, drawing out the pause as his red eyes flicked sideways, landing on Bai Jiu, who sat nearby, his expression already tightening with concern. Zhao Yuanzhou's lips quirked upward, and he continued smoothly, "he'll have a late lunch today."

As expected, Bai Jiu sprang from his seat as if someone had lit a fire beneath him. "Zhuo gege is sick?!" He exclaimed, his voice rising in panic, sharp and piercing enough to make the room wince collectively. "Why didn't you tell me?!" His frantic eyes darted wildly toward the door, and he all but shouted, "I'll go check on him right now!"

Ying Lei, getting surprisingly quicker at reading the situation, was already moving to calm the boy before it spiralled further. "I-I think he just needs rest!" Ying Lei blurted out, his tone rushed and tinged with the nervousness. His hands came up in a placating gesture, and a nervous laugh escaped him as he added, "I'm sure it's not that serious."

"Not serious?!" Bai Jiu's voice shot up again, high-pitched and incredulous, his brow furrowed in a mixture of indignation and concern. He jabbed an accusing finger into the air. "Zhuo gege is always up before everyone else!" He said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Zhao Yuanzhou couldn't help himself. A smirk crept across his lips, and he brought his sleeve up to hide it, his shoulders trembling slightly with suppressed laughter. His amusement was short-lived, though, as Li Lun's foot connected with his shin beneath the table. The silent reprimand made Zhao Yuanzhou wince ever so slightly.

"No sense of responsibility," Wen Xiao chimed in, her voice tinged with faux disappointment as she shook her head slowly. Her words dripped with sarcasm, and the pointed glance she shot Zhao Yuanzhou was met with nothing but his feigned innocence.

"He worked really late last night," Li Lun interjected, his voice even but firm. He shot a look at Zhao Yuanzhou, his smile tight and forced, like someone barely tolerating a particularly annoying younger sibling. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing. "Isn't that right, monkey?"

The great demon sighed softly, his humour fading. "Yes," he said finally, his voice low and smooth. "Very late." As the words left his mouth, a dull ache flared briefly in his fangs.

Bai Jiu squinted his eyes sceptically, but looked convinced nonetheless. He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and sat back down.

"Now that that's settled," Wen Xiao said, her voice sharp as she clapped her hands together, the sound cutting through the room. All eyes turned to her as she reached for her notebook. She flipped it open, revealing a page crammed with hasty scribbles, the ink smudged in places where her hand had moved too quickly. "I've been talking with the locals," she began, "and I think we might have something."

The others leaned in closer. The scrawl of notes seemed to leap off the paper, sentences scratched out so heavily that the ink tore into the surface, fragments of words left barely legible. Arrows connected half-finished ideas, and at the centre of it all, were two bold words written in heavy strokes.

"Tianxiang Pavilion?" Ying Lei's voice broke the silence, his brows furrowing.

"Apparently, they have a new customer who's been visiting every day," Wen Xiao explained. Her dark eyes flicked up to meet theirs. "The locals say they've never seen him before."

She paused, her gaze shifting, lips curling into a sly smile as she leaned in conspiratorially. Her voice dropped lower. "He became a customer just a week ago," she added, the words almost a whisper.

"Oh," Zhao Yuanzhou hummed, lips curling up, "isn't that a convenient coincidence?"

"I spoke to the staff as well," she added, "and they all said the same thing. He's always booking out the same private room, and always watches the dancers from the balcony. He never pays them for a private show, nor does he get anyone to serve him."

"Yep, that's a murderer, alright," Ying Lei said with an emphatic nod, his expression serious. His arms crossed tightly over his chest, and his brows furrowed as though he'd already pieced together the entire crime. "He's looking for the perfect victim."

Li Lun leaned back, a sceptical arch in his brow. "But why a brothel?" He countered, his voice calm but edged with doubt. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the side of his teacup. "None of the victims have any ties to Tianxiang Pavilion."

"Perhaps," Zhao Yuanzhou drawled, his voice as languid as the slow motion of his hand as he swirled liquid into his gourd, "he's just a lonely man seeking simple pleasures." The faint clink of jade hitting liquid punctuated his words, and the great demon leaned back with an ease that bordered on arrogance, as though the answer hardly mattered to him at all.

Li Lun's sceptical gaze didn't waver. If anything, his expression sharpened. "By people-watching from the balcony?" He asked pointedly, his tone dry and disbelieving.

Zhao Yuanzhou only shrugged, taking a deliberate sip. "You can admire things from afar, my dear friend," he said smoothly. "One cannot always appreciate beauty from up close."

He could almost see it — the fleeting curve of Xiao Zhuo's smile, the gentle tilt of his head as he laughed quietly at something no one else had noticed. Those quiet moments, when the world seemed to still just enough for Zhao Yuanzhou to catch a glimpse of something truly unguarded.

Li Lun's scoff, dragging Zhao Yuanzhou back to the present. "Good thing not everyone is a perverted monkey like you," Li Lun said flatly, raising his teacup to his lips.

Zhao Yuanzhou clicked his tongue. Wen Xiao hid a smile behind her hand, her sharp eyes glinting with amusement as the two kids exchanged baffled glances, clearly lost. Wen Xiao cleared her throat delicately, bringing the conversation back on topic.

"We'll just have to find out when we get there, then." She announced simply. "We don't want to alert him of our presence so we can't all go. We still don't know what kind of abilities he might have."

Zhao Yuanzhou raised a brow. "You're not thinking about going undercover, are you?"

Wen Xiao smiled widely, clapping her hands together. "That's exactly what I'm thinking!"

Ying Lei scoffed, crossing his arms around his chest. "Good luck blending these two demons in a room full of dancers. They stick out like sore thumbs." He said, thumb jutting towards them.

"Pei jiejie is busy with the new recruits today, so she can't go." Bai Jiu said, seven fingers in front of him as he put them down one by one. "Ying Lei is a terrible spy and would give us up, and I'm too young. That just leaves us with you Wen jiejie? Isn't that too dangerous by yourself?"

The drink was half way up to Zhao Yuanzhou's lips before he paused, doing the mental calculations again.

Oh. So this was what Wen Xiao was up to?

A sly smile made it's way up to her lips.

"Who says I'm going by myself?"

"Absolutely not." Zhuo Yichen protested without a second thought.

Wen Xiao smiled, giving him that weird look that only meant bad things to come.

"It's not happening." He repeated, voice holding no room for discussion.

Wen Xiao smiled wider.

Tianxiang Pavilion was busier than it usually is, and Zhuo Yichen shifted uncomfortably in his dancer's hanfu. He had never felt more out of his depth, Wen Xiao nudging him to not make it so obvious. Even with citizens dying, these noble men find ways to entertain themselves.

They were dressed in complementary shades of green — hers a vibrant jade that shimmered in the light, while his was a deeper, richer emerald, with intricate flowers embroidered along the hem. Zhuo Yichen could barely bring himself to look down at the outfit without feeling a pang of mortification. He still wasn't sure how Wen Xiao had managed it, but she had somehow transformed him.

Layers of makeup softened the sharpness of his features, framing his face in a way that was strangely convincing. Half of his hair was swept up into an elegant bun, adorned with delicate hairpins that jingled faintly with each movement, while the rest cascaded down his back. A thin veil of silk was tied around his face, obscuring everything but his eyes, which darted nervously at every glance cast his way.

It was convincing, he begrudgingly admitted to himself — until he had to move. The flowing fabric of the gown tugged at his legs with every step, and the shoes pinched his feet in a way that made walking feel like trudging through mud.

Wen Xiao, however, was utterly dazzling.

The accessories woven into her hair gleamed, and her makeup was nothing short of art — perfectly applied to highlight her sharp features while giving her an air of elegance. In her hand, she carried a parasol, which she twirled absentmindedly, the motion as fluid and natural as the sway of her hips. Her confidence was palpable, woven into every step she took as she strolled through Tianxiang Pavilion, batting her eyelashes at anyone who glanced her way with an effortless charm.

Zhuo Yichen, on the other hand, shuffled awkwardly behind her like a child. The layers of fabric felt suffocating, and he had to fight the urge to tug at the veil every few seconds. When a passer-by paused to admire them, Wen Xiao responded with a graceful tilt of her head and a sweet, practiced smile, her voice smooth as honey as she acknowledged their attention.

Zhuo Yichen could barely manage a half-bow, his movements jerky and unrefined, his eyes darting away the moment anyone lingered on him for too long.

Wen Xiao cast a glance over her shoulder, her lips twitching with amusement at his obvious discomfort. "Relax," she murmured under her breath, her tone light and teasing. "You'll draw more attention if you keep looking like a startled deer."

Zhuo Yichen gritted his teeth, his hands clenched into fists beneath the flowing sleeves of his gown. Easy for you to say, he thought, glaring at the back of her perfect silhouette as she glided through the pavilion like she owned the place. You don't look like you're about to trip over your own feet.

He could still hear Ying Lei's and Li Lun's snickering in the back of his mind, making his irritation grow with every step. Bai Jiu had showered him in compliments, about how his "Zhuo ge looked the best in anything." It did not, in fact, make his situation any better, as Ying Lei had out right just burst out laughing in his face.

Zhao Yuanzhou on the other hand... well, the monkey merely stared at him, unblinking.

Zhuo Yichen would never admit it out loud, but he was looking forward to at least something from Zhao Yuanzhou. But the great demon never even uttered a single word even as Wen Xiao dragged Yichen out the bureau, and that may or may not have knocked down his confidence just a bit.

He had always known — somewhere deep in the corners of his mind — that his lover could have anyone he wanted. Zhao Yuanzhou didn't need to try; his presence alone was magnetic, commanding attention with the effortless grace of someone who knew the world would bend to his will. A single glance from him could send hearts racing, bring even the most steadfast beauty to their knees, and yet... he had chosen Zhuo Yichen. Of all people.

So, when Zhao Yuanzhou's low, honeyed voice drifted through the air, offering a languid compliment to Wen Xiao in her dazzling hanfu, it wasn't surprising. Zhuo Yichen had no illusions about himself. Wen Xiao embodied a perfection he could never hope to reach. He couldn't fault Zhao Yuanzhou for noticing it — how could anyone not? Yet, as the words of admiration left his lover's lips, they struck him in a way he hadn't expected, sinking deep into his chest like stones in water.

Because how could it not when he was the ones wearing Zhao Yuanzhou's marks all over his body?

And as if on que, the bite on his neck began to pulse, his lover's breath still heavy on his skin. Zhuo Yichen shook his head to get rid of the memory — he could wallow in self-pity later, they had a mission to complete first.

They managed to hide his sword behind the layers of silk, and while he could feel the weight of it press against his leg, not being able to grip the hilt was unnerving. It was a sense of instability he didn't like feeling when he wasn't at home. In cases like that, Zhao Yuanzhou would always be there to anchor him when the sword wasn't. But Zhao Yuanzhou, along with the others, weren't here with him and Wen Xiao.

But despite it all, Zhuo Yichen was nothing but confident in his abilities when it came down to it. He was a fighter, not a dancer — they were on a mission to catch a demon, not seduce one — and that put Zhuo Yichen at as much ease as knowing that Zhao Yuanzhou would be here if something went wrong.

They wove through the crowds, the swell of music and laughter providing the perfect cover for their movements. The dancers on the stage twirled and swayed behind a shimmering column of falling water, the golden glow of the lanterns above. Wen Xiao kept her steps light, her parasol spinning idly in her hand, while Zhuo Yichen lingered a step behind her, eyes darting around subtly for anyone suspicious.

When people passed too close, they leaned casually against the column, pretending to be engaged in quiet conversation. Wen Xiao tilted her head as though sharing some flirtatious secret, her lips curving into an effortless smile as she gave a playful wave to a young lord who paused to admire her. He moved on quickly, clearly convinced of their charade, but Zhuo Yichen's discomfort lingered. His arms crossed tightly over his chest, unsure where else to put them.

Wen Xiao's voice dropped to a low whisper, her eyes flicking toward their destination without so much as a turn of her head. "The balcony to the right of the stairs," she murmured, her tone calm but edged with a sense of urgency. "That's the one."

Zhuo Yichen shifted his weight, casting a glance around them before moving to the side of the pillar. The water streaming down the column reflected fragments of light onto his face, painting fleeting patterns across his features as he ducked beneath a curtain of hanging flowers. Their petals brushed against his cheek as he leaned forward to get a better view of the balcony Wen Xiao had indicated.

His eyes narrowed as he scanned the space, taking in the darkened room beyond the carved wooden railing. The lanterns hanging near the ceiling swayed gently, their glow casting shadows that danced across the polished floor. Yet, from where he stood, the room seemed lifeless.

"You sure he's in there?" Zhuo Yichen asked, his voice low but sceptical. He glanced back at Wen Xiao, whose eyes remained fixed on the balcony.

From his vantage point, he couldn't see so much as a flicker of movement, no shadow to hint at someone hidden within. He stepped back slightly, the flowers brushing his hair as he straightened, but he couldn't shake the sense that something about this was off.

"The owner said he always appeared when their Flower Queen performs."

"And when is that?"

The music came to a stop, the dancers on the stage descending down the stairs as new ones took their place.

"I'm guessing now" Wen Xiao said with a smile.

She stepped forward, smoothly intercepting two servers carrying trays laden with wine and delicate dishes. "We'll take it from here," she said softly, her voice polite, accompanied by a charming tilt of her head. Without hesitation, she plucked one tray from the server's hands, leaving them momentarily startled before bowing and retreating without a word.

Zhuo Yichen barely had time to react before a second tray was pressed into his hands. He bit back a sigh, adjusting his hold as he watched the servers disappear into the crowd. Of course, Wen Xiao made it look easy, while he felt awkward balancing the delicate assortment of porcelain bowls and wine cups.

A sudden hush fell over the room, broken only by a faint strum of the guzheng. Heads turned toward the stage as the Flower Queen — Tianxiang Pavilion's top courtesan — stepped into view. Her robes were a blazing scarlet, adorned with intricate golden embroidery that shimmered with every movement. Her hair was piled high, ornamented with glittering pins and flowers. In her hands, she carried two decorative white swords, the blades gleaming under the lantern light.

The guzheng's melancholic notes were soon joined by the lilting strings of the pipa. The Flower Queen began to move, her body twisting and twirling as if she were a living flame, the red silk of her robes trailing behind her.

Zhuo Yichen and Wen Xiao maneuvered their way through the captivated crowd, trays in hand, until they were positioned near a group of noblemen. The men were utterly entranced, their eyes glued to the Flower Queen's every step, every twirl, as though her performance held them in a spell.

Zhuo Yichen barely glanced at the stage, his focus elsewhere. From their vantage point, they had a clear view of the balcony, the room just beyond it. His grip on the tray tightened as his eyes darted between the wooden door and the crowd below, scanning for any sign of movement.

One young master, who looked far too drunk already, tried to touch Yichen's leg. The demon hunter moved away swiftly, laughing along with whatever nonsense the group of boys were spouting, pouring them drinks instead to keep them occupied. Zhuo Yichen truly pitied the woman who had sold their lives away to work in this brothel.

Pretending... playing along... faking every smile, word and laugh in the name of entertainment. He hadn't even been here for two hours and he was already exhausted with the amount of times he had to dodge hands straying a bit too close for comfort.

Wen Xiao was fraying far better than he was, getting an elder noble completely drunk as she pretended to be fascinated with what ever topic of discussion they were having.

And then, he saw it — a flicker of movement on the balcony.

Zhuo Yichen's pulse quickened, but he forced himself to remain still, his gaze shifting upward with practiced nonchalance.

The man stood at the edge of the balcony, a figure draped in shadow yet impossible to miss. His attire was as striking as his presence: a long, flowing robe of deep purple layered over black. An embroidered golden sash cinched his waist, the intricate designs shimmering faintly even from this distance. His hair was sleek and obsidian, tied in a high topknot and secured by a golden dragon hairpin.

His piercing golden eyes swept over the room below with a gaze that could have sliced through steel. There was no curiosity or emotion in his stare, only a detached, imperious disdain, as though every person beneath him was nothing more than an insect crawling at his feet. It wasn't just the eyes that unnerved Zhuo Yichen, but the oppressive air surrounding the man, an aura that felt like a weight pressing against Zhuo Yichen's chest, heavy and suffocating.

He turned to Wen Xiao, their eyes met for the briefest of moments, and without a word, he tipped his head ever so slightly toward the balcony above. The signal was subtle, but Wen Xiao caught it immediately. She hid her face from the onlookers as she followed his line of sight, her expression carefully unreadable. Seconds passed before her eyes flicked back to his.

She gave a single, almost imperceptible nod, the corners of her lips barely twitching in acknowledgment.

Now they just wait.

The demon remained rooted in place, his golden eyes fixed on the dancer below, tracking each graceful twist and turn with an intensity that seemed almost predatory. His expression betrayed nothing — not awe, not admiration, not even the faintest flicker of amusement. If anything, he looked as though he were studying her, dissecting every movement.

At the base of the stairs, a pair of young women stood giggling behind their fans, their cheeks flushed as they cast sidelong glances up at the balcony. Zhuo Yichen followed their gaze, pitying them. Of all the men in the room, and they fawned over their suspect. He couldn’t decide whether to laugh or feel sorry for them. Yichen wondered if the girls could sense it, the inhuman air about him, or if they only saw the golden dragon pin in his hair and the rich purple silk of his robes.

The demon didn’t look like the type to stir up trouble, but the again, neither did Zhao Yuanzhou on a good day, and the white monkey had been the very source of Zhuo Yichen’s worst headaches since the day they met.

The performance onstage had begun to draw to a close, the music slowing as the Flower Queen twirled one final time. Applause broke out as she dipped into a graceful bow. The courtesans in the room began to shift their attention, moving to engage with their patrons. Nobles turned back to their conversations, their laughter and murmured voices rising to fill the space once more.

The Flower Queen stepped down from the stage, her every movement poised, as she made her way to the most esteemed clients of Tianxiang Pavilion. The glow of the lanterns caught the subtle sheen of sweat on her brow, but her expression remained serene, her eyes bright with the practiced charm of someone who could make anyone feel like the centre of her world.

The man on the balcony remained as still as ever, his gilded gaze no longer fixed on the stage. Instead, his attention had shifted, his piercing eyes locked onto something — or someone — else. Zhuo Yichen followed the line of his sight, his brows furrowing as a sense of unease began to stir. Among the sea of faces and movements below, one of the servers had stopped what she was doing, standing motionless with a vacant, almost glassy expression. Her hands hovered over the tray she had been arranging, delicate flowers slipping from her fingers to scatter across the polished floor.

Zhuo Yichen stiffened, watching as the girl stepped forward, her movements sluggish and mechanical, as though she were in a trance. Her steps crunched over the blossoms she had dropped, but she seemed utterly unaware, her dazed gaze fixed ahead. She walked without hesitation, drawn toward the staircase.

Wen Xiao glanced at him, a question clear in her expression, but Yichen gave a small shake of his head. His instincts screamed that something was wrong, that whatever this was, it wasn’t natural. Yet now wasn’t the time to act. They couldn’t afford to move without understanding what they were dealing with — or risk revealing themselves too soon.

The girl ascended the stairs, her steps heavy, as though each one cost her an enormous effort. The room’s chatter and laughter continued below, oblivious. Yichen’s jaw clenched, his teeth grinding against the tension as he watched her disappear further from the crowd’s notice.

When she finally reached the top of the stairs, she came to a halt in front of the demon. He didn’t speak, didn’t even glance at her. His eyes remained forward, his expression as cold and imperious as it had been moments before, as though the girl were nothing more than dust. And yet, with a simple flick of his wrist, she turned on her heel and walked into the room behind him.

Zhuo Yichen and Wen Xiao were up on their feet without a second thought, racing for the stairs.

"I thought you said he didn’t interact with anyone?!" Zhuo Yichen shouted over the cacophony of music and laughter, his voice strained as he shoved his way through the thick crowd. Bodies pressed in on all sides, but he pushed forward, weaving through the sea of silks and perfumes.

Wen Xiao, just a step ahead of him, glanced back, her parasol tucked tightly under her arm. “Either the staff here are too careless to notice who goes missing, or they’re lying through their teeth!” She snapped, sidestepping a pair of startled courtesans and offering a distracted apology as she continued her hurried pace.

Zhuo Yichen quickened his steps, his own garments tangling around his legs. Frustrated, he bunched up the hem of his dress in one hand, his other gripping the railing as he vaulted up the stairs two at a time. Wen Xiao was right behind him, her parasol now discarded to free her hands.

When they reached the door, Zhuo Yichen didn’t wait — he lunged for the handle without a second thought. But the moment his fingers brushed the polished metal, a sharp, searing pain shot up his arm. He recoiled with a hiss, clutching his hand against his chest as the acrid scent of burnt flesh hit his nose. The handle glowed faintly, an ominous crimson hue fading back to its ordinary sheen as if nothing happened.

“Xiao Zhuo!” Wen Xiao gasped, her eyes wide as she grabbed his wrist, pulling it toward her to inspect the damage. Angry, blistering welts were already forming across his palm, the skin red and raw. Without hesitation, she tore the sleeve from her dress and carefully wrapped it around his hand.

“Are you okay?!” she asked, her voice laced with panic as she secured the makeshift bandage around his injured hand.

“I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth. His lips twitched in an attempt at a reassuring smile, but it fell flat. “It doesn’t really hurt,” he lied, flexing his fingers experimentally and immediately regretting it as the pain flared anew, letting ice blossom at on the surface of his palm to cool down the heat.

She didn't look like she believed him, but didn't push any further for now. She looked back at the door, hovering her hand slightly over the handle, retracting it back at record speed. "A barrier?"

Zhuo Yichen clicked his teeth, pulling out his sword from underneath the layers of silk. "Stand back." He ordered, activating his sword. And with one smooth motion, he brought it down, braking the seal and the door together with it.

When the room finally came into view, the sight before them sent an icy chill down their spines. 

The room was steeped in an eerie silence, broken only by the faint flicker of lantern light casting restless shadows on the walls. At its centre stood the man, and at his feet the girl lay crumpled on the floor, her body a grotesque husk of what it had been. Her skin was the colour of ash, stretched tight over brittle bones. Her face, once so dazed, was now frozen in a haunting stillness. Zhuo Yichen swallowed hard, his stomach twisting as the acrid smell of death filled the air.

It’s him.

Zhuo Yichen wasted no time. He stepped forward, blade pointed at the demon. His voice was sharp, cutting through the stillness. “Who are you?! And what have you done to her?!”

The man turned his head slowly. For a brief moment, there was a flicker of something in his expression — surprise, perhaps — but it vanished as quickly as it came. His golden eyes bore into them, examining them with the detached curiosity of someone appraising insects trapped in a jar.

“Who am I?” He repeated, his voice a deep, grating rumble that reverberated through the small room. He tilted his head to one side, his demeanour unbothered, almost languid. “You are the ones who barged into my room uninvited. Are you not supposed to give your names first?” The barest trace of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

Yichen bristled at the man’s tone, his casual words made all the more unnerving by the fresh corpse at his feet. He didn’t so much as glance at the girl. The detachment in his voice, the unshaken calm — it was the behaviour of someone who had already done this a million times before, uncaring.

Wen Xiao’s gripped her blade, her knuckles turning white. She took a step closer, her gaze unflinching. “We are with the Demon-Hunter Bureau,” she snapped.

His eyes widen slightly, a smirk forming at the corner of his lips. "I see," he whispered, raising his hands. But before the demon got the chance to form a seal, Zhuo Yichen sent shards of ice flying towards him.

From the flames coiling in the demon’s hand, a single purple fan emerged, its edges gilded with gold that gleamed in the lantern light. With a fluid motion, the demon flicked the fan open. A wave of fire erupted forth, consuming the ice shards and licking hungrily at the walls. The room’s temperature rose, the stifling heat pressing down on Zhuo Yichen. Outside, the overhanging flowers ignited in a burst of fiery petals, sending glowing embers raining down on the courtyard below.

Distant screams reached Zhuo Yichen’s ears, but they were drowned out by the roaring inferno and the pounding of his own heart. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay focused on the figure before him.

“Get everyone out!” Zhuo Yichen barked, his voice sharp and urgent as he spared a glance at Wen Xiao, a thin layer of ice slowly spreading from the bottom of his feet to cool down the room. She hesitated for only a moment, her eyes narrowing with worry, before spinning on her heel and vanishing into the chaos outside.

The demon’s lips curled into an amused smirk, his golden eyes gleaming with malice. He moved with impossible grace before the layer of ice on the floor touched him, evading Zhuo Yichen’s flurry of attacks with a lazy elegance that only infuriated the hunter further. With a flick of his wrist, the fan sent another plume of flames spiralling through the air. Zhuo Yichen countered, thrusting his blade forward, the tip glowing with a brilliant frost as icicles erupted from its edge, colliding with the fire in a burst of steam and sparks.

Unfazed, the demon leaped into the air, spinning like a dancer. His feet touched the wall, and the icy shards that clung to the surface melted away under the simple swish of his fan. The wall sizzled and cracked, scorched black where the fire had kissed it.

“A demon catching a demon, huh?” The man mused, his tone almost conversational as he adjusted the sleeves of his dark robes, brushing away specks of ice dust. He descended with feline grace, his feet landing lightly on the floor amidst the debris. “The world has certainly changed since I last walked it.”

Zhuo Yichen didn’t respond. The demon lunged, his movements a blur as he closed the distance in an instant, the gilded edge of his fan arcing toward Yichen like a blade. Zhou Yichen reacted on instinct, spinning in the air to dodge the strike, the heat of the attack grazing his side as he landed atop one of the overturned tables. 

His shoes scraped against the charred wood as he steadied himself, his blade raised, glowing faintly as he launched another strike. The demon deflected it with a flick of his fan, the clash of their demonic energies sending shockwaves through the room, splintering furniture and cracking the stone walls.

“Two demonic energies...?” The demon murmured, confused, his voice so low that Zhuo Yichen almost didn't catch it. His expression was unreadable as his golden eyes narrowed, studying Yichen intently. “That second one feels... familiar.”

Was he talking about Zhao Yuanzhou? Zhuo Yichen’s thoughts flickered briefly to the white monkey, but he quickly shook his head. This wasn’t the time to let his focus waver. Gritting his teeth, he steadied his breath, the faint hum of his blade sharpening as it began to glow. A bead of blood trickled from his palm onto the blade’s surface, the weapon pulsating in response.

He charged without hesitation, his movements swift and precise. The tip of his sword cut through the smoky air, aiming directly for the demon’s chest. But at the last possible moment, the man twisted, dodging by the barest of margins.

Flames erupted from the fan in the demon’s hand, surging toward Zhuo Yichen like a living thing. He spun to evade, the flames searing close enough to scorch the hem of his dress.

Zhuo Yichen clicked his tongue in frustration, tearing the silk veil from his face and letting it flutter to the ground, his chest heaving as he tried to draw in more air. The heat of the room was unbearable, the demon’s fire sapping the oxygen with every strike. He closed his eyes for a fleeting moment, focusing on the flow of his inner qi, forcing it into his blade.

His next strike was a blur, the blade glowing with a crystalline light as it clashed against a burst of fire mid-air. The force of their collision sent a shockwave through the room, shattering glass and splintering wood. Zhuo Yichen barely had time to react before the impact hurled him backward. He crashed through the fragile walls of the room, landing hard against the balcony floor with a grunt.

“To think there would be a man under that dress,” the demon mused, stepping through the ruined wall with an infuriating calm demeanour despite him being in the same state as Zhuo Yichen. His voice was smooth — save for the slight breathlessness that he tried to conceal — almost teasing, his golden eyes glowing with wicked amusement. “You’d look so much better with an umbrella in your hands than a sword.”

Zhuo Yichen glared, the insult igniting a fresh wave of anger. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his blade, his knuckles white. He rolled to the side just as the demon lunged, his fan cutting through the space where Yichen had been moments before. He leapt onto the balcony railing, his boots slipping slightly on the polished wood as he regained his footing.

He moved to strike again, his blade already descending in a precise arc, but the demon was faster. With a flicker of movement too quick to follow, the man disappeared, his form vanishing into the shadows.

Yichen's breath came sharp and fast, each inhale filling his lungs with the acrid stench of burning wood and charred flesh. His grip on the sword hilt tightened, the faint blue glow licking at his knuckles, a silent alarm warning him the demon was near.

He pivoted sharply, his gaze darting across the chaos below. The Pavilion was a storm of panic — men and women tripping over overturned chairs and broken railings, their frantic cries rising in discordant harmony with the crackling fire that consumed the once-pristine walls. And amidst it all, Wen Xiao was helping a noble man that had injured his leg.

Then, his eyes narrowed as something — no, someone — moving in the flames of the brazier, their silhouette flickering like a ghost.

And before he could shout in warning, the demon emerged with a predatory grace, its form twisting and reshaping as if born directly from the flame itself. It struck faster than a snake, clawed fingers slicing through the air as it lunged for Wen Xiao.

Without hesitation, he leapt from the balcony, the Cloud Light Sword singing as it released a volley of ice shards. "Let her go!" The ice shot through the smoke, glittering like fragments of frozen stars, and sank deep into the demon’s hands.

The man recoiled with a pained shout, Wen Xiao fell from his grasp, hitting the ground with a thud. She gasped and clawed at her neck, her breaths coming in jagged sobs. Yichen’s stomach twisted at the sight — her skin where the demon had touched her was charred, the flesh darkened to ash.

“Wen Xiao!” Yichen dropped to her side, his sword still raised, casting cold blue light that clashed with the flickering red of the demon’s flames. Her wide, tear-filled eyes met his as she rasped out his name, her voice fragile, like brittle glass threatening to shatter.

"What did you do to her?!" He demanded with a shout.

The demon clicked his teeth, looking disappointed. "You aren't the one either."

Zhuo Yichen furrowed his brows. The one? He was looking for someone specific?

Yichen cast a quick glance at Wen Xiao, relief flickering briefly through his eyes as he saw her breathing steadily, the colour returning faintly to her face. But there was no time to linger. With a sharp pivot, he swung his sword in a broad arc.

Metal met metal in an explosive clash, the demon’s ornate fan catching the blow. Sparks erupted in a furious shower, the air rippling with raw, otherworldly energy. Yichen’s shoes skidded against the slick marble floor, his muscles straining as he fought to steady himself. The hilt of his sword was starting to stain red, the blood seeping through the makeshift bandage on his blistered hand.

The demon tilted its head, an expression of irritation flickering across face before vanishing entirely, leaving behind only the faintest hint of scorched air.

Yichen cursed under his breath, his eyes darting through the smoke-filled chamber. And he caught it again — a faint, unnatural flickering in the brazier flames.

“Put out all the fires!” He ordered, voice echoing in the now empty Pavilion. His sharp gaze locked on Wen Xiao, who nodded, clutching at her injured neck but already dragging herself to her feet. “He’s using them to travel!”

Without hesitation, Yichen turned, his sword a blur of silver as he swung it with precision, severing the hanging lanterns. It crashed to the ground, shattering into a cascade of sparks and molten paper. Pivoting smoothly, he swept his blade through the air again, its icy edge biting through the stone braziers at his side. The flames hissed in protest, but the cold quickly devoured them, leaving only a fine layer of frost clinging to the cracked remains.

The chill spread from his feet as he moved, ice creeping along the floor and up the walls, swallowing the embers still licking at the Pavilion’s painted panels. The once-vivid pink of the walls was muted under the frost’s crystalline sheen, shimmering faintly in the dim light.

The air in the Pavilion turned sharp and brittle, the sudden drop in temperature seeping into every crevice like a creeping frost. Zhuo Yichen’s sword glowed and he moved without thought, his body propelled by instinct alone.

The demon grunted as the blade carved through his flesh, blood sizzling against the frost-covered floor. The demon staggered back with a leap, landing with an unnatural grace on the other side of the room. His face twisted in irritation, glowing eyes narrowing as it pressed a clawed hand to the gash that refused to close.

“The Cloud Light Sword?” The man muttered, his voice low and venomous. His lips curled into a sneer. “So, you're from the Zhuo Clan? This just got more troublesome.”

The demon’s eyes locked onto Yichen, filled with a singular, murderous intent, as though no one else in the room existed.

Then, with a flick of his wrist, the man unfurled his fan, swishing through the air with a gentle, almost lazy grace. Fire arrows erupted from the fan, its heat still as suffocating and oppressing.

But the flames weren’t meant for him.

Zhuo Yichen’s breath caught as his eyes followed the arc of the inferno. The fire streaked across the room, heading straight for Wen Xiao.

His mind reeled, panic igniting his veins and spurring him into motion. His feet barely touched the ground as he threw himself in front of her, his sword glowing as it slashed through the fire.

Before he could take another breath, hot, lava-like fingers closed around his neck.

Zhuo Yichen’s breath was strangled from his throat, a tight, burning pressure that clawed at his insides as the demon’s claws dug deep into his flesh. His sword clattered to the ground, forgotten, as he was lifted off the floor with an effortless motion.

Fire snaked around the demon’s fingers, curling like a living thing. It hissed and crackled, the heat so intense that Yichen’s skin seared beneath the demon’s touch. His body screamed in protest, and he clawed at the hand gripping his throat, desperate for leverage, his focus narrowing as he sank into the stillness of his inner qi.

The demon’s eyes were cold, distant — like a cat toying with a mouse — but then, they glimmered with something more. A sharp, predatory gleam ignited beneath the flickering gold, and for a fleeting moment, the demon seemed to recognize something in Zhuo Yichen, something worth his attention.

And then, just as unexpectedly as he had lifted him, the demon released his grip.

Zhuo Yichen collapsed, gasping for air, his hand instinctively clutching at his bruised neck. His breath came in ragged, desperate pulls, and though his skin was still raw, it didn't feel rotten like Wen Xiao's had looked.

The demon's lips curled into a cruel smile, eye burning with interest. His eerie golden eyes glowed, alive with malicious delight, and Yichen felt the hair on the back of his neck rise in instinctive horror. The demon leaned in, his proximity suffocating, his presence overwhelming.

One finger slid beneath Yichen’s chin, lifting his face as though inspecting an insect, his touch almost mocking. Yichen’s heart raced in his chest, his pulse hammering as his eyes locked with the demon’s.

“You...” The demon’s voice was a soft, pleased whisper, rich with dark amusement, and it made Yichen’s skin crawl, sending a shiver of revulsion straight to his core.

“I found you.”

Chapter Text

"Kneel."

The fire demon froze, his eyes widening for just a heartbeat before narrowing into slits of molten fury. His lips curled into a snarl, but he didn’t dare rise from where he knelt, bound to the ground. His muscles tensed and strained, but to no avail. His gaze darted around the room, frustration etched into every line of his face as smoke hissed faintly from his hands.

Zhuo Yichen’s breath hitched, and his instincts took over. He stumbled back, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to put as much distance as possible between himself and the man before him. His pulse thundered in his ears.

“Move.”

The command was cold, impossibly heavy, making the world shift.

The fire demon was there one moment, and the next, he was hurtling through the air like a rag doll. He crashed into the Pavilion’s ornate fixtures with bone-rattling force, sending embers, shattered braziers, and shards of porcelain spinning through the air. 

“Haven’t your parents taught you not to touch what doesn’t belong to you?”

Zhao Yuanzhou’s words dripped with venom, each syllable laced with a commanding anger that felt as though it could crush the very air. His presence was suffocating, his demonic energy pressing down on Tianxiang Pavilion like a tidal wave. The weight of him, the sheer force of his being, seemed to fill every corner of the space.

Zhuo Yichen could only watch, his chest heaving as relief swept through him like a flood. His gaze snapped to Zhao Yuanzhou, who now hovered at his side, his robes billowing in the wind as feet touched the floor. For the first time since the fire demon’s arrival, Yichen felt his trembling hands steady.

Zhao Yuanzhou was here.

“Are you okay?” Zhao Yuanzhou’s voice was low, each word vibrating with restrained fury. His crimson eyes burned like molten coals, a fiery glow flickering against his sharp features as his gaze snapped to Zhuo Yichen’s neck.

Zhuo Yichen flinched under the weight of that gaze, his hand brushing lightly over the tender, reddened skin. The faint sting lingered, but he managed a small, crooked smile. Just seeing Zhao Yuanzhou standing before him was enough to push the pain to the edges of his mind.

“It’s fine,” Yichen murmured, his voice soft but steady. He tipped his chin towards Wen Xiao, who was now shielded behind Li Lun. “Heal Wen Xiao first — she had it worse.”

For a moment, it seemed as though Yuanzhou hadn’t heard him. His glowing eyes darted down, catching sight of his bandaged hand. Zhao Yuanzhou's jaw tightened. Without a word, he reached out and grabbed Yichen’s wrist, pulling it toward him with a firm grip.

“Zhu Yan—” Yichen winced at the pressure, but he didn’t pull away.

“He did this?” Zhao Yuanzhou’s voice was low, dangerously calm. His thumb brushed over the edges of the bandages, his touch deceptively gentle as his eyes darkened, deepening into a red so intense it seemed to suck the light from the room.

Yichen swallowed, trying to soften the moment with a reassuring laugh. “I’m fine—”

But his words were cut short. His lover had already begun using his demonic energy, the air shimmering faintly with threads of red light as they curled around his injured hand. Warmth bloomed beneath the bandages, chasing away the pain as the wound stitched itself together.

Zhuo Yichen’s lips twitched into another faint smile. He watched as his beloved worked, his brow furrowed in concentration in a way that was uncharacteristic, the anger still evident beneath the surface of his composure. It was rare to see him so riled, and yet it was moments like these that made Yichen’s chest tighten with something too big for words.

A part of him wanted to reach out, to smooth the tense creases that lined Yuanzhou’s brow, to press a kiss there and whisper something soft. But now wasn't the time for that.

Bai Jiu's scream rang through what was left of Tianxiang Pavilion as the demon stood up from where he was, hiding behind Zhuo Yichen and pulling at his bells.

“I should have known it was you the moment I sensed that demonic energy of yours,” the fire demon said, his voice curling with disdain as he scoffed. His lips twisted into a grin that didn’t reach his golden eyes. “But I didn’t think you’d take such an interest in someone who could actually kill you.”

A low, grating laugh escaped him as he straightened, brushing debris and ash from his charred robes. His movements were slow, almost theatrical, as though revelling in his own indifference like he wasn't burning in fury mere moments ago. With a languid flick of his wrist, he unfurled his fan, fanning himself as trails of flickering flames dancing in and out of existence with each wave. 

“But then again,” he continued, his grin sharpening into something more sinister, “you always had peculiar tastes, didn’t you, Zhu Yan?”

“Nice to see you’re still as insufferable as ever, Yan Tian.” Zhao Yuanzhou’s reply came clipped and dry, his tone brimming with irritation rather than any shred of politeness.

Zhuo Yichen’s brows knitted together in confusion, his head snapping to the side as his gaze darted between the two demons. He caught the annoyed expression on Zhao Yuanzhou’s face just before the demon turned toward him, masking his irritation with a tight, almost forced smile.

“Remember I told you I might have a clue?” Zhao Yuanzhou asked, gesturing lazily toward the fire demon with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Well, there he is.”

“You’ve spoken about me?” Yan Tian interjected, feigning surprise as his expression morphed into one of mock delight. He let out a chuckle, low and rich, that reverberated with amusement as his gaze swept over the group. His attention settled on Li Lun, and his head tilted to the side, eyes glinting with derision.

“I see you’re still sticking with the ape,” Yan Tian sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. “I thought you’d have grown bored of him by now.”

Li Lun’s jaw tightened. He scoffed, his glare sharp enough to cut. “It wasn’t your business then, and it sure as hell isn’t now.” His voice was cold, brimming with contempt as he stepped forward. “What the hell are you doing in the mortal realm, Yan Tian? This isn’t your place.”

Yan Tian closed his fan with a snap, tapping it harshly against the palm of his left hand. His smile dropped, now completely emotionless. It was unnerving to Zhuo Yichen, how it was impossible to tell what the demon was thinking. It was like he was pretending to be human, his smiles and chuckles so forced, mechanical.

"I have business to attend here." He stated simply.

"You mean killing innocent people, you bastard!" Ying Lei accused.

"I don't know which ones you're referring too." He responded, unblinking.

"The Lin couple, Miss Mei, the owner of the pendent store — Ms Yin — and her child." Zhuo Yichen stated, trying to keep his voice levelled. "The family of three by the harbour. Any of that ring a bell?"

Yan Tian tilted his head, a faint hum escaping his lips as he flicked open his ornate fan. The deep purple fabric shimmered faintly, catching the light as he began to fan himself with deliberate nonchalance. 

“Now that you mention it…” he drawled, his tone light and almost amused. His golden eyes glinted mischievously over the edge of the fan, his mouth hidden behind its silken folds. “I seem to recall something about a pendant store. The father was quite fortunate, as I recall.” His voice dipped into a lazy, musing tone, as though savouring some private joke. “But… a couple?” He gave a theatrical pause, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “I don’t remember crossing paths with one of those.”

“Liar!” Wen Xiao’s voice erupted, sharp and raw with anger. She stepped forward, her clenched fists trembling at her sides “They died exactly the same way the others did!” She spat.

Yan Tian arched a single brow, unbothered by her outburst. If anything, the intensity of her reaction seemed to amuse him further, his smirk deepening behind the fan.

Beside Zhuo Yichen, Zhao Yuanzhou went still, his sharp intake of breath betraying the sudden tension in his body. His crimson eyes widened, their fiery glow dimming just slightly. “The others are here as well?” He asked, incredulous.

Others?

Yan Tian’s smirk didn’t falter, but he didn’t answer. 

Yuanzhou closed his eyes briefly, his expression hardening as he exhaled a slow, frustrated breath. He pinched the bridge of his nose, then rubbed his temple as though trying to stave off a headache that was quickly forming. “Just what has your father decreed this time?” He muttered under his breath, his voice carrying a mixture of irritation and exhaustion.

"Decreed?" Bai Jiu whispered from behind him, looking confused. "They're royalty?"

Just what on earth did they get roped into this time?

“That damned geezer,” Li Lun muttered, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth in open disdain. His face twisted into an expression of sharp displeasure, his hand flexing at his side. “Has he not passed yet? I was certain one of you would’ve gone for his head by now. Thought we’d finally see the end of his reign.”

Yan Tian’s laughter broke the tense silence that followed, light and airy. It was almost amused — almost. Yet Zhuo Yichen caught the tell-tale flicker in the fire demon’s eyes, a glint of raw, simmering anger buried beneath the mockery.

Without warning, a blade of fire tore through the air with a sharp hiss, its heat slicing dangerously close to Li Lun’s face. The flame left a thin, searing line just below his eye. Li Lun didn’t flinch. His body reacted instinctively, his arm snapping out to shield Wen Xiao as he pushed her behind him.

Yan Tian lowered his hand, embers still curling lazily around his fingers. His grin widened, but the venom in his voice seeped into every word. “If Yan Lu had heard you speak those words, you’d all be rotting corpses by now,” he said softly, the lightness of his tone at odds with the threat laced within it. His golden eyes burned with cruel delight, glancing at each of them as though measuring their worth — or their demise.

“But it matters not,” Yan Tian continued, his voice dropping lower. His gaze shifted, landing squarely on Zhuo Yichen.

Yichen felt his chest tighten, his body stiffening, every muscle locking in place as though his very instincts were screaming at him to run, to hide — but he couldn’t move.

Yan Tian raised his fan once more, the purple silk shimmering as he pointed it directly at Yichen. His eyes gleamed with predatory intent, his grin widening into something wicked and gleeful.

“Him,” Yan Tian said, the word dripping with possession, like a hunter claiming his prey. “I want that little wife of yours, Zhu Yan.”

Zhuo Yichen staggered back instinctively. Yan Tian looked at him as if he were some fragile, insignificant thing — a bug he might trap in a glass jar, to toy with until it crumbled to dust under his gaze. A cold shiver ran down Yichen’s spine, freezing his breath in his lungs.

A hand wrapped firmly around his waist, pulling him back against something solid and warm. Zhao Yuanzhou. The great demon’s grip was almost bruising, his nails pressing into Yichen’s side with a possessiveness that left no room for doubt. Zhao Yuanzhou’s crimson aura erupted around them, wrapping around them.

Yichen gritted his teeth, trying not to flinch at the pressure of his lover's hold. He barely had a moment to adjust before Bai Jiu gave another brutal yank on his hair, dragging his head back with enough force to make his neck ache, followed by screeching sound that made his vision blur at the edges.

“Since you already know he’s mine,” Zhao Yuanzhou growled, his voice a low, thunderous snarl that seemed to shake the very foundation of the Pavilion, “why bother asking?”

His demonic energy thickened, spilling into every corner of the Pavilion until it felt like the walls themselves might buckle under its weight.

Zhuo Yichen's fingers clutched at Bai Jiu’s body so the kid wouldn't faint, looking between the two demons as they talked like he wasn't in the room.

Zhuo Yichen’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword, and swatted Zhao Yuanzhou’s hand off his waist. The great demon tilted his head, a mock-offended look crossing his face, his lips pulling into a pout that bordered on teasing.

Zhuo Yichen rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you ask the person in question if they’re even interested first?” He snapped, his voice dripping with irritation as he levelled the blade toward Yan Tian. The moonlight from the Pavilion reflected off the steel, catching the edge and making it gleam. “I’m not, by the way,” he added sharply, his tone defiant. “So, why don’t you turn yourself in, and confess to the murders?”

Yan Tian’s lips curved into a slow, sinister grin, the kind that made the room seem colder despite the heat radiating from him. His golden eyes gleamed with a dark amusement as he regarded Zhuo Yichen, his stance relaxed.

“I’m afraid that can’t happen,” he replied smoothly. “You see, I’ve been searching everywhere. And now that I’ve found you…” He pretended to think it over. “I must insist that you come with me.”

“Zhuo gege isn’t going anywhere!”

Bai Jiu peeked out from behind his shoulder, his small form bristling with indignation. His face was flushed with anger, his hands balled into fists as he glared at the fire demon.

Yan Tian’s amused expression shifted, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features as he turned his gaze to the boy. With an exaggerated sigh, he flicked his fan, a wave of tiny flames sparking to life and dancing through the air toward them.

The flickers were harmless, and Zhao Yuanzhou snuffed them out with a wave of his hand before they could even reach them. But Bai Jiu was already trembling, eyes rolling to the back of his head as a piercing scream erupted from his lips, echoing through the broken-down Pavilion like a wail of anguish.

Before he could hit the ground, Ying Lei darted forward, catching the fainting boy in his arms. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Ying Lei muttered.  “He's genuinely going to turn us deaf one day.”

Yan Tian watched the scene unfold. “Touching,” he said mockingly, the word dripping with derision. “But you’re wasting your time. He’ll come with me. Willingly or not.”

Zhuo Yichen’s grip on his sword tightened, the blade glowing faintly. From the corner of his eye, wisps of crimson began to curl like smoke. He turned his head just slightly to catch the sight of Zhao Yuanzhou’s umbrella materializing in his hand, the lacquered wood gleaming under the fractured light of the Pavilion.

“You’d better be really sure about this, Yan Tian,” Zhao Yuanzhou said, his voice calm, almost eerily so, making the hairs on the back of Yichen’s neck stand on end. If Zhuo Yichen hadn’t known better, he might’ve been fooled by how composed his lover appeared.

Yan Tian’s lips curled into a cold, cruel smile, devoid of any warmth or hesitation. “I’ve never been more sure,” he replied, almost mocking.

For a moment, silence fell. Zhao Yuanzhou closed his eyes, just for a heartbeat, and when they snapped open again, they burned with a vivid, searing red that seemed to cut through the smoke and ruin of the Pavilion.

The entire Pavilion trembled under the sheer weight of his malicious energy. Zhuo Yichen stumbled slightly, his chest tightening as the air grew heavy, almost suffocating.

“Then I’ll make sure to give your father my condolences for his loss,” Zhao Yuanzhou breathed, the words low, yet carrying a promise. His umbrella unfurled with a sharp motion, the crimson fabric catching the faint light. And then he was moving.

The clash was instant, red against red, demonic energy colliding with demonic energy. Yan Tian’s flames surged toward him in deadly arcs, but Zhao Yuanzhou met every attack with precision. The Pavilion became an inferno of swirling heat, the floor cracking beneath their feet as the two demons danced in a blur of movement.

Zhuo Yichen watched, his chest tightening with worry despite himself. He hated how calm Zhao Yuanzhou looked even now, toying with Yan Tian. But the raw power pouring off the fire demon was nothing to scoff at, and the longer they fought, the more destruction rained down around them.

“Can’t he just use the Baize Token?” Yichen asked abruptly, his voice tight as he turned to Li Lun. His sword remained gripped tightly in his hand, but his attention flickered to the others for even the faintest reassurance. Beside him, Wen Xiao looked up curiously at the tree spirit, her brows furrowed in concern.

Li Lun shook his head, his expression grim. “He’s not like the rest of us,” he said simply, his voice quiet but firm. “The Baize Token is useless against him."

Li Lun glanced toward the raging battle before them, the air around them vibrating with the force of each attack, and the Pavilion groaned under the strain.

“Me and Zhu Yan will explain everything when we get back to the Bureau,” Li Lun said finally.

Zhao Yuanzhou and Yan Tian exploded through opposite sides of the wall, the deafening crash echoing in the empty space. Shattered wood and stone rained down on them, the air thick with dust and the acrid scent of smoke. Choking clouds swirled over their crumpled forms, veiling them in a ghostly haze.

“Get them out of here.” Zhuo Yichen said quickly, his voice cutting through the pandemonium. He didn’t wait for confirmation — his body was already in motion, shoes pounding against the fractured ground as he sprinted toward Zhao Yuanzhou with his dress crumpled in his hand, his pulse roaring louder than the lingering aftershocks of the blast.

“Zhao Yuanzhou!” He called, his tone raw, teetering on the edge of desperation. The sight that greeted him made his breath hitch. Zhao Yuanzhou lay sprawled amidst the rubble, his frame outlined by jagged shadows. 

Zhuo Yichen dropped to his knees beside him, his movements frantic yet gentle, brushing aside debris as his fingers ghosted over Zhao Yuanzhou's chest and shoulders. His heart hammered as his gaze darted over the demon’s body, searching for any sign of injury. “Are you hurt? Say something,” he urged, his voice softer now, edged with a tremor he couldn’t suppress.

Zhao Yuanzhou brushed the debris from his robes, his red eyes narrowing in irritation as dust and fragments of stone clung stubbornly to the charred fabric. “This was new,” he muttered darkly, clicking his tongue. “What a waste.”

Zhuo Yichen slapped him on the shoulder with a glare. “That shouldn’t be your concern right now,” he scolded.

Before Zhao Yuanzhou could retort, he snapped open his umbrella. In a heartbeat, searing heat erupted around them, a torrent of blazing demonic energy screaming through the air. Flames licked at the edges of the umbrella’s shield, hot and suffocating.

Zhuo Yichen didn’t waste a second. His hand darted to his sword, the blade flashing in an arc of silver as he slashed forward without warning. The force of his strike rippled outward, raw energy exploding from its edge. Zhao Yuanzhou shifted the umbrella just in time, redirecting the brunt of the blast. The shockwave sent Yan Tian staggering back, his footing faltering as the ground beneath him splintered.

Lowering the umbrella slightly, Zhao Yuanzhou reached out, his hand brushing against Zhuo Yichen’s arm and lowering it down. “Stay here,” he said. “I’ll deal with him.”

Zhuo Yichen arched an eyebrow, incredulous. He looked at Zhao Yuanzhou as though he’d grown another head. “Don’t be stupid,” he snapped, his hand tightening around his sword hilt. “You—”

“Zhuo Yichen.” Zhao Yuanzhou’s voice dropped, its usual teasing lilt replaced with a command that made Yichen pause. “Listen to me,” Zhao Yuanzhou continued, his gaze locking onto Yichen’s. “Yan Tian can’t stay in the mortal realm for much longer. Look.”

Reluctantly, Zhuo Yichen’s eyes darted to their enemy. Yan Tian stood in the distance, his imposing frame shrouded in a halo of smouldering embers. But something was off. The deep gash across his chest, that should have healed itself by now, oozed sluggishly. The skin around it refusing to knit together.

“He’s already running out of strength,” Zhao Yuanzhou pressed, his voice quieter now, almost a plea. “He wants you for some reason. I need to know why before he retreats back to his realm. Just… trust me, okay?”

For a moment, Zhuo Yichen said nothing, his sharp gaze searching Zhao Yuanzhou’s crimson eyes for any crack in his resolve. But all he found was unyielding determination, a flicker of something deeper burning beneath the surface. He let out a sharp breath, his shoulders stiff with frustration as he sheathed his sword with a hiss of metal. “Fine,” he ground out, his words clipped and biting. “But you owe me for this, you stupid monkey.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Zhao Yuanzhou’s lips, his usual arrogance softened into something warmer. He squeezed Yichen’s arm one last time, his touch lingering for the briefest of moments before he turned away. In a blur of motion, he launched himself into the air, the umbrella spinning in his grasp as he descended toward Yan Tian.

The fire demon’s lips curled into a smirk. Even as his own strength ebbed, his golden eyes gleamed with dark amusement, watching Zhao Yuanzhou approach.

"You’re the most feared being in all the Wilderness, Zhu Yan," Yan Tian mused, his voice dripping with venom as flames flickered at the edge of his fan. His gaze never wavered from Zhao Yuanzhou, his eyes narrowing with amusement. "To think you'd fall for a hunter. But I can’t say I blame you. He's quite the special little demon."

Even with Zhao Yuanzhou’s back to him, Zhuo Yichen could picture the smirk playing on his lover's lips — arrogant, taunting, and laced with unrestrained fury. His chest tightened as Zhao's voice sliced through the air. "Then you should have left the moment you realized he’s mine."

Zhao Yuanzhou opened his umbrella, the edges of it glowing as waves of malicious energy pulsed outward, enveloping the space like a choking cloud. "But you still want him. You still look at him. You still touched him," he growled, each word infused with a layer of possessiveness that made Zhuo Yichen’s breathe hitch. 

The last words, however, were delivered with a slow, deliberate calm, as though Zhao was speaking to an old acquaintance. "Yan Tian," he said, the name barely a whisper, "my Xiao Zhuo isn’t someone you should carelessly touch."

Zhuo Yichen’s breath hitched at the sound of those words, something tightening in his chest. His heart raced, the rapid thumping feeling like a war drum echoing in his ears. He felt the heat rush to his face, the flush spreading across his cheeks like fire in his veins. 

"Stupid monkey…" he muttered under his breath, icy blue veins growing on his neck as he tried to cool his face down.

Zhao Yuanzhou’s demonic energy flared again, and without hesitation, the great demon launched himself at Yan Tian. The fire demon's previously agile steps slowed, his movements sluggish as his power was beginning to drain. 

Yan Tian barely had time to react before Zhao’s umbrella pierced through his abdomen, the sound of tearing flesh ringing out through the room. Yan Tian staggered back, his body jerking from the force of the strike.

Yan Tian groaned loudly in pain, spitting out a mouth full of blood as he held his bleeding abdomen. He looked up at Zhao Yuanzhou, eyes feral as he chuckled. He said something, so quiet that Zhuo Yichen couldn't hear it from the distance. But what ever it was, it flared another round of malicious waves from Zhao Yuanzhou.

"Quiet."

Yan Tian's lips shut quickly, his eyes widening in slight panic.

"I'm going to kill you." Zhao Yuanzhou seethed.

Before Zhao Yuanzhou could move another inch, Yan Tian flashed a final, sinister smile — one filled with all the arrogance of someone who knew he would return. In the next heartbeat, the fire demon dissolved into a cloud of smoke, the sharp scent of sulphur lingering in the air long after his presence had vanished. 

Zhuo Yichen stood still for a moment, his grip tightening around the hilt of his sword, glancing down at the weapon. Slowly, he started to move, his steps quick as he walked toward Zhao Yuanzhou. And only when he stood beside his lover once more, did the sword in his hand glow blue in the stillness.

Without warning, Zhao Yuanzhou's hand shot out, gripping Zhuo Yichen’s arm with surprising force. In one swift motion, he tilted Yichen’s chin, pulling his face up and inspecting his neck with a kind of frantic urgency that took Zhuo Yichen off guard.

“I’m okay,” Zhuo Yichen tried to reassure him. His brows furrowed as he met Zhao’s gaze, his voice calm but tinged with confusion. “He didn’t hurt me.”

But Zhao Yuanzhou’s fury was not assuaged by Yichen’s words. In fact, the reassurance only seemed to fuel the fire, like throwing kindling onto a blaze. His lover's eyes flickered with rage, a red flame licking at the edges of his pupils. With a growl of frustration, Zhao Yuanzhou yanked Zhuo Yichen closer, one strong hand gripping the back of Yichen's neck as he pulled him in until their foreheads met with a soft thud.

Zhuo Yichen barely had time to register the shift in his lover’s mood before he felt the tension vibrating through Zhao Yuanzhou’s body like a taut bowstring. He could hear Zhao Yuanzhou’s breath, shallow and uneven, as if he were fighting to hold back an inferno. The great demon's eyes fluttered shut, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to control the storm swirling inside.

“I leave you alone for one second, and you manage to attract the attention of unnecessary pests,” Zhao Yuanzhou spat, his voice thick with venom, but not directed at Zhuo Yichen.

Zhuo Yichen couldn’t help the soft scoff that slipped from his lips, his chest tightening. A quiet chuckle rumbled in his throat as his hands gripped the front of Zhao Yuanzhou's robes, pulling him just a fraction closer. “You say that as if he’s not your friend,” he muttered.

At the words, Zhao Yuanzhou recoiled, his body stiffening, a flicker of disgust flashing across his face. His eyes narrowed, his lip curling in distaste, and for a moment, he looked at Zhuo Yichen as if he’d said something unspeakably offensive.

“I may have been friends with him once,” Zhao Yuanzhou hissed, his tone bitter. “But that friendship broke a long time ago.” 

Curiosity swelled in his chest, but Zhuo Yichen knew now wasn't the time to ask. Instead, he leaned in, pressing his lips to Zhao Yuanzhou's for a few moments before pulling back. Warmth, safety, and pure unadulterated relief coursed through his veins. "Let's go home." He smiled, wiping away the soot from his lover's face. "We can talk when we get there."

Zhuo Yichen gave the Pavilion one last look before they left, cringing inside. The higher ups are going to go ballistic when they find out about this.

"King Yan's son?" Wen Xiao asked incredulously. "As in Yanlou the ruler of Diyu, Yanlou?"

"I thought the people of the underworld weren't allowed to have kids?" Zhuo Yichen knotted his brows, confused.

"Five, to be exact." Zhao Yuanzhou confirmed. "He had four sons and one daughter. Yan Tian in the oldest."

"So he's the Crown Prince?" Pei Sijing asked.

"No, Youdu doesn't have a Crown Prince." Li Lun explained, making everyone more confused.

Zhao Yuanzhou let out a long, drawn-out sigh, the sound barely escaping his lips before he swirled the gourd in his hand lazily. With a steady hand, his lover placed four delicate porcelain tea cups on the table, arranging them in a neat vertical line. The soft clink of their bases against the wooden surface echoed in the quiet room before he filled the top and bottom cups with a steady stream of tea, the golden liquid swirling gracefully inside the two cups.

“We have the Wilderness, there the demons reside,” he began, his voice smooth, almost casual, as he gestured to one of the empty cups. He continued, motioning to the second empty one. “And then we have the mortal realm, where humans live. Despite being two separate realms," Zhao Yuanzhou went on, his tone deepening as he leaned in slightly, “we coexist. We’ve always coexisted, even if it’s not always in perfect harmony.”

Then, he tapped his finger lightly on the two cups with the tea, sending gentle ripples through the liquid. “Heaven and Hell, on the other hand, consider these two realms to be entirely different entities. After the great war between Zhuan Xu and Gong Gong, the balance shifted." Zhao Yuanzhou tapped the two tea cups with the tea once more, and the ripples seemed to grow more pronounced. "Heaven and Hell could no longer interfere in the matters of the Wilderness or the mortal realm. And the people of Youdu? They’re bound to their realm, unable to leave unless granted permission.”

Ying Lei, arms crossed tightly over his chest, furrowed his brows in concentration, his eyes narrowing. “Gramps told me they’re almost like the mortal realm. They have their own way of life, their own traditions. After death, both demons and humans go through trials and tribulations in Heaven or Hell, and if they pass, that's their new home.”

Ying Lei’s fingers twitched at the thought, his gaze flickering down to the empty cup in front of him as he seemed to drift into his own thoughts. “And as for the rulers,” he continued, voice tinged with uncertainty, “the Baize Token can’t contain them since they’re not from the Wilderness. Their power is beyond that.” His words trailed off as he shifted uncomfortably, the mountain god’s frown deepening. “Demonic powers can’t harm them either, unless they’re already weakened. But I don't know anything about King Yan's children. Gramps never told me much about them.”

Zhuo Yichen wanted to laugh in disbelieve. Just when they think they were done dealing with Wen Zongyu, more troublesome demons decide to pop out of the woodworks. And royalty at that. The world must be playing a cruel joke on them, he was sure. Were his brother and father laughing at the absurdity of the situation they were once more put in?

“It isn’t that people of Youdu aren’t allowed to have children, it’s that they simply can’t.” Li Lun mused as he tapped the edge of the teacup that represented Hell. His finger lingered for a moment on the rim, contemplative. “It’s no surprise no one speaks of King Yan’s children. It’s almost as if there’s an unspoken rule among demons to never speak of them.” His eyes narrowed slightly, the edges of his expression hardening with the unmistakable bitterness that always followed any mention of the ruler of the underworld and his offspring. His voice dropped lower, his words laced with disdain. “Unless they wanted that pathetic excuse of a king to drag them — or their loved ones — straight to Hell.”

Bai Jiu leaned forward, brows knotted in curiosity, tone edged with weariness. “Is it a punishment for their sins? Them not being able to have kids?” 

Zhao Yuanzhou’s lips twisted into a smirk as his powers brushed against the cup’s surface. The liquid in the cup rippled in response.

“They spend centuries atoning for their sins in the hellfire,” Zhao Yuanzhou began, his voice casual. “The flames consume them, burn them from the inside out, until their meridians are scorched beyond recognition. The heat... it courses through their veins, becomes a part of them. It seeps into their skin, until they are nothing more than walking, breathing vessels of fire.”

As if on cue, the tea in the bottom cup began to hiss softly, small bubbles rising to the surface, the liquid growing too hot to touch. 

“The reason they can’t come to the mortal world, or even live in the Wilderness, is because their very touch is poison,” Zhao Yuanzhou continued, his eyes darkening. “The longer they touch a living lifeform, the more life they drain from it, until it withers away, dies.” His voice lowered, everyone leaning in close as if he were sharing a secret. “Even the smallest touch from them causes an effect, but in cases like that, it's fine, life will return quickly.” His gaze turned to Bai Jiu and Ying Lei, the words dripping from his lips like honeyed poison. “But if they were to... give birth?”

Before anyone could react, the teacup in his hand shattered with an ear-splitting crack, the sharp sound reverberating through the air. The tea splashed violently over the table, scalding the wood and sending steam curling up into the air.

Zhao Yuanzhou’s smirk remained, voice tinged with humour. “The baby would die before its even conceived."

Bai Jiu and Ying Lei both screamed, their voices shrill and piercing as they instinctively recoiled, their eyes wide with shock and horror. Everyone else flinched in their seat, turning to give the stupid monkey a glare. 

Zhuo Yichen smacked Zhao Yuanzhou's shoulder with the hilt of his sword, giving him a glare. "You didn't have to be so dramatic."

"I just wanted to get the point across." The great demon shrugged, unapologetic.

Wen Xiao and Pei Sijing exchanged looks, glaring at Zhao Yuanzhou as they patted away the specks of tea from their clothes. Bai Jiu casually pushed Ying Lei away from him with a barely perceptible movement, his body pressing closer to Zhuo Yichen’s. Ying Lei cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly, pretending nothing had occurred as he focused on the intricate carvings on the wooden table before him.

Li Lun rolled his eyes, flicking his wrist and putting the tea cup back together. "They can’t procreate with humans or demons. If by some miracle they did, both the child and its mother would die within moments of birth.”

"Then how was Yan Tian born? He couldn't have sprouted out of a flower." Ying Lei joked.

“A calamity.” Zhao Yuanzhou answered simply, taking a long, measured sip from his wooden gourd.

“A calamity?” Pei Sijing repeated, her voice laced with disbelief. “Like Fei?”

Zhao Yuanzhou hummed, nodding his head. "There are many kinds of calamity demons, and since most are involved with bringing death upon the living, it only makes sense they can resist it. Even if it's for a little while. Yan Tian's mother was a Xiangliu."

"A nine-headed snake?" Wen Xiao questioned, intrigued, writing away at her notebook.

"King Yan is a... peculiar man." Li Lun sighed heavily. "He's always been interested in the things he can't have. And the more unattainable it is, the more he wants it. Either for his own personal greed, or for pure entertainment."

Zhuo Yichen rubbed the top of his head, the area feeling itchy all of a sudden. He thought back to the way Yan Tian looked at him, full of selfish interest as if Yichen were a toy he found. His hand found its way to his neck, the skin now healed, but still fresh. If Yan Tian's touch kills, then why wasn't he affected, but Wen Xiao nearly was?

He caught Zhao Yuanzhou's eyes looking at him, trailing the same spot he was touching. But his lover didn't say anything, his expression unreadable. It was maddening, sometimes, how little he could grasp about what truly passed through Zhao Yuanzhou’s mind in moments like these.

"So he found calamity demons so he could have more children?" Zhuo Yichen asked in distain. "And I'm guessing they all died?"

"Unfortunately." Zhao Yuanzhou sighed. “Poor demons. Should’ve known what they were getting into. Then again, I never liked that Taotie demon. She really did it to herself, if anything.” He tutted, shaking his head with exaggerated mock concern, his lips curling into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"Greed can only take you so far." Li Lun agreed, just an unsympathetic.

"Taotie?" Pei Sijing asked.

“They’re demons driven by their insatiable greed. They feast on it, live off it — greed is their sustenance.”  Ying Lei explained.

"Do you know any of the other of King Yan's... pursuits?" Wen Xiao asked, phrasing her words carefully since Bai Jiu was still in the room.

Zhao Yuanzhou snorted, his expression one of disdain as he lazily swirled his drink. “I don’t make it my mission to keep up with that bastard’s love life. It’s none of my business, nor do I care.” His lips twisted into something that was half a sneer, half a grimace as though the mere thought of Yan Tian’s romantic entanglements was enough to turn his stomach. 

“You’d think after living for hundreds of years, one would develop a sense of taste, but I suppose, it’s difficult to find demons who are as good-looking as me.” He nodded, utterly serious, his voice dripping with arrogance. 

Li Lun turned away, taking a long, measured sip from his cup as if he could drown the absurdity in tea. Wen Xiao smirked and continued scribbling in her notebook, her expression one of barely-contained laughter. Bai Jiu, Pei Sijing, and Ying Lei exchanged a collective eye roll.

Zhuo Yichen jabbed his lover on the side. "Shut up." He said, making Zhao Yuanzhou press his lips together shut.

"This still doesn't explain the bodies. There is nothing in common with any of the victims." Wen Xiao side eyed Bai Jiu, who looked ready to sleep, dropping her voice to a whisper as she brought her hand to her neck.

“He said I wasn’t the one,” she whispered, her voice so low it was nearly lost to the crackling of the fireplace in the corner. The words felt heavier as they left her mouth, tinged with a quiet bitterness she couldn’t quite hide. Her eyes grew distant, fixed on the table but not truly seeing it. “He’s looking for someone specific.”

Zhuo Yichen and Zhao Yuanzhou shared a look, but neither said anything.

"I found you."

Why him, particularly? Zhuo Yichen wasn't a calamity. So why was he so adamant on taking him? Because Zhuo Yichen wasn't affected by his touch?

"He said he only had something to do with Ms Yin and her child, that the father was just lucky to be away." Zhuo Yichen said instead, shifting uncomfortably in the damaged dancers dress he was still in. "Though, I don't think that's true."

"I wouldn't rule off Miss Mei either," Li Lun laughed, taking a sip of the herbal tea as he gave Zhao Yuanzhou a knowing look. "She looks exactly like that woman you and him fought over years ago."

Zhuo Yichen froze, nothing but pin drop silence blanketed the room, even Bai Jiu startled from his half-awake state.

Zhao Yuanzhou’s eyes widened, panic flickering through them, his usual smug confidence evaporated. Wen Xiao, ever the opportunist when it came to his moments of weakness, raised an accusing brow, the corner of her mouth twitching upward in barely-concealed amusement. 

"That's why you're no longer friend? Because of a woman?" She asked, her tone dripping with a mix of mockery and exasperation.

Zhao Yuanzhou snapped his head toward Li Lun, his irritation boiling over as he jabbed an accusing finger in his direction. “You—!” He hissed, his voice almost cracking as his friend refused to meet his gaze, feigning an air of disinterest. Li Lun calmly looked away, as if the whole situation had nothing to do with him, his expression the picture of innocence.

The great demon couldn’t find the words, so instead, he turned abruptly to Zhuo Yichen, his movements sharp and almost desperate. “Xiao Zhuo, don’t listen to him— he’s lying.” The words tumbled out too quickly, laced with a strange urgency that only seemed to dig his grave deeper.

There was a weird lump in Zhuo Yichen's throat, but he managed to hide what he was feeling and rose a brow. "So you didn't fight over a woman?"

"We did—” The words slipped out before Zhao Yuanzhou could stop them, and his face immediately fell, his eyes shutting tight as if he could block out his own stupidity. Zhao Yuanzhou dragged a hand down his face, trying to recover, his voice rising in pitch as he scrambled to backtrack. “Well, no! That’s not it— I mean, it wasn’t like that!” His hands waved in front of him in a frantic attempt to placate Zhuo Yichen, but the damage had already been done.

"How unseemly." Pei Sijing shook her head.

"I see all demons are the same." Wen Xiao tutted.

"Must have been quiet the beauty if both of you fought over her." Ying Lei added unhelpfully.

"That's very unfaithful of you, white monkey." Bai Jiu shook his head.

"I do remember her being a flower spirit." Li Lun hummed, enjoying the mess he had created.

"You bastard!" Zhao Yuanzhou shouted at the tree spirit.

Zhuo Yichen couldn't take it anymore, getting up from his seat quickly. The lump in his throat just grew bigger, and his heart was beating against his chest like it wanted to break his ribs. "Bai Jiu, didn't you say you wanted a sleep over? Today's the perfect night."

"Really?!" Bai Jiu shot up, excitement filling his eyes. "Give me ten minutes! I'll go pack everything in my room!" And he ran off.

"Xiao Zhuo, you can't be serious—"

"I'm going to get changed." He interjected without sparing a look, already walking off.

He heard the others muffle their laughter as Zhao Yuanzhou tried to explain himself.

Zhuo Yichen wasn't angry, really, he wasn't. Perhaps a tad bit annoyed, but he wasn't angry.

Maybe he had been a bit too forceful when he kicked off his shoes, the worn fabric hardening into brittle ice as they collided with the far wall, shattering into a cascade of frost. But that wasn’t anger. No, Zhuo Yichen wasn’t angry. Annoyed, perhaps — sure, the irritation bubbling just beneath his skin was hard to deny — but angry? Why would he be?

He leaned against the poster of his bed, his arms crossed tightly against his chest, his fingers digging into his sleeves as if grounding himself in the silence of the room. He let out a slow, measured breath, his gaze fixed on the floor, though his thoughts wandered far from it. It was ridiculous to feel this way, he told himself. Zhao Yuanzhou was over a thousand years old — a stupid, infuriating monkey with centuries of stories and lovers behind him. It shouldn’t be surprising. It wasn’t surprising.

Zhuo Yichen’s mind churned as he replayed the scene in his head, over and over, trying to convince himself it didn’t matter. Of course there had been others. Why wouldn’t there be? Considering how many times Zhao Yuanzhou had pulled him into those infuriatingly warm arms, or held him as if the world outside didn’t exist, Zhuo Yichen would be a fool to think he was the first.

And yet, despite every logical argument, the ache in his chest wouldn’t go away.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration leaking through his carefully composed exterior as his nails scraped against his scalp. He wasn’t stupid — he’d never been the type to hold onto childish, naïve hopes. He wasn’t the kind of person to cling to the idea of being someone’s only, or even their first. He knew better. He’d always known better.

So why the fuck did it hurt so much despite that?

Zhuo Yichen stared at his reflection in the mirror. The once-beautiful dress he wore was unrecognizable now, the delicate fabric charred and ripped, reduced to a patchwork of blackened soot and jagged tears. The vibrant colour was now swallowed up by the grime that clung stubbornly to every inch, mirroring the smudges streaking his face. His bun, once perfectly pinned and elegant, was unravelling, loose strands of hair falling messily around his face.

With a sharp exhale, he reached up, fingers pulling out the remaining hairpins one by one, throwing them on the table with more aggression than he intended to. The metallic clinks as they hit the table punctuated the silence of the room, one of them recoiling off the edge and clattering onto the floor. The sound echoed faintly, but Zhuo Yichen didn’t move to pick it up. He only stared at the version of himself in the mirror — a reflection as worn and battered as his pride.

Jealousy? At his big age? The thought was so absurd it almost made him laugh. Almost. His lips twitched, but the sound never came. Instead, his shoulders sagged just a little as he let his hands fall to his sides. It was ridiculous. Childish, even. What reason did he have to feel like this? Zhao Yuanzhou was his — had been his for a while now. No one else. No one before mattered.

“Xiao Zhuo, can you please open the door?” Zhao Yuanzhou’s voice filtered through the heavy wood, a note of pleading in his tone. It was the fifth time he’d asked. His words were muffled but still warm, still him, the monkey demon whose relentless confidence usually grated on Zhuo Yichen's nerves but now, somehow, made his chest tighten even more.

Zhuo Yichen didn’t answer. Again.

On a logical level, he knew he shouldn’t be mad. Zhao Yuanzhou loved him — he’d never doubted that. He could hear it every time Zhao Yuanzhou spoke his name, could see it in the way his eyes softened whenever they met his own. That love was constant, unwavering, as sure as the rising sun.

But on some illogical, gut-wrenching level, knowing Zhao Yuanzhou had someone before him — a lover, someone who’d once occupied the same space Zhuo Yichen now did — hurt in ways he couldn’t quite put into words. 

And it stung. Gods, how it stung.

Zhuo Yichen clicked his tongue, his irritation bubbling over as his eyes settled on his bandaged hand. It had healed now, all thanks to Zhao Yuanzhou, the deep crimson stain standing out starkly against his pale skin. With a sharp tug, he ripped the bandage off, the motion forceful. He balled the cloth in his hand, ready to throw it to the floor in defiance, but a hand caught his wrist mid-motion, warm and firm, stopping him in his tracks.

A presence loomed behind him, familiar and annoyingly steady. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was — the heat of his breath against his ear gave it away. “Had I known you’d look this cute when you’re mad, I would’ve come in sooner,” Zhao Yuanzhou murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. The deep timbre of it sent an unwelcome shiver down Zhuo Yichen’s spine, and he flinched instinctively, his ears burning with a mix of embarrassment and annoyance.

He wrenched his arm free from Zhao Yuanzhou’s grasp, stepping back quickly to put space between them. “I don’t remember giving you permission to come in,” he said flatly, his tone cool and distant, though his heart pounded furiously in his chest.

Zhao Yuanzhou didn’t flinch, didn’t falter. Instead, he anchored Zhuo Yichen with that stupid, infuriating look of his — half amusement, half something softer, something warmer. It was the same look that always made Zhuo Yichen’s stomach flip, the one that made butterflies stir no matter how much he tried to stomp them down. The bastard. Zhuo Yichen wanted to wipe that expression off his face with his fist, but his feet stayed rooted to the floor.

Zhao Yuanzhou smirked, his confidence utterly unshaken. “I don’t remember you saying I couldn’t,” he countered smoothly, his tone playful, as if Zhuo Yichen’s fury only fuelled his amusement.

Zhuo Yichen sighed, muttering a whatever under his tone as he made his way to his closet. He needed to get out of this stupid dress.

"Xiao Zhou."

Zhuo Yichen opened the wardrobe door, scanning through his robes. He pulled the dress at the waist where it was too tight, loosing the belt just a bit.

"Airen."

Bai Jiu was going to be here soon, and he didn't have time to clean up room before he was pulled into Wen Xiao's schemes. Sometimes he wonders why he even gives into her devilish whims.

Because you love her, that's why, his mind replied.

"Baobie, look at me."

A loud smack echoed through the room as Zhao Yuanzhou’s hand came down on the wardrobe door beside Zhuo Yichen’s head, slamming it shut with a force that reverberated through the wood. The sound startled him, but he refused to flinch, even as Zhao leaned in, his presence closing in on one side, caging Zhuo Yichen. He could feel Zhao’s eyes boring into him, waiting, watching, always with that damned patience that made Zhuo Yichen want to claw at his own skin.

Right. Speaking of love…

With a reluctant inhale, Zhuo Yichen turned his head slightly, just enough to meet the stupid monkey’s gaze. Zhao Yuanzhou’s expression was unreadable, save for the faint upward tilt of his lips.

“You know you can’t ignore me all night, right?” Zhao Yuanzhou asked, his tone teasing, a brow raised in mock curiosity. He cocked his head, his hair falling slightly into his face as though even gravity was in on the act of making him infuriatingly attractive.

Zhuo Yichen scoffed, a sharp exhale through his nose as he shifted his gaze to anywhere but Zhao Yuanzhou’s face. His voice dropped to a mutter, his words barely audible. “You managed to cut ties with Yan Tian all fine over a girl…”

He didn’t know why he said it. The words just spilled out, bitter and cutting, before he could stop them. For a second, Zhao Yuanzhou didn’t respond, and Zhuo Yichen thought maybe — just maybe — his voice had been too soft to hear. He was about to exhale in relief when the silence was broken by a low, rumbling laugh.

The sound grated on Zhuo Yichen’s nerves like nails on glass, each note laced with amusement and affection that made his chest tighten in equal parts anger and embarrassment. 

“Xiao Zhuo, oh, Xiao Zhuo,” Zhao Yuanzhou sighed, his voice dripping with fondness. He leaned in closer, so close that Zhuo Yichen could feel the heat radiating off him, the warmth pressing against his icy composure. “Are you jealous?”

Zhuo Yichen’s gaze stayed glued to the ground, his knuckles white as he gripped the hilt of his sword. His glare burned into the floor, as though he could melt straight through it if he tried hard enough — or, better yet, summon an icicle and collapse the ground beneath him entirely. At least then he’d escape this humiliating moment.

A finger hooked gently under his chin, his breath caught as his head was tilted upward, slow and deliberate, until his eyes were forced to meet familiar red ones.

And there it was — that look. The one that unravelled him from the inside out. The one that made his carefully constructed walls crumble like dust in the wind. Zhao Yuanzhou’s gaze was unwavering, soft yet all-consuming, like Zhuo Yichen was the only thing that existed in the world. It burned, but not like fire — more like a steady, quiet warmth that seeped into his chest and wrapped itself around his heart. A warmth he hated because it made him feel seen. Too seen.

Zhuo Yichen swallowed hard, hating the way his resolve faltered beneath that look. He despised how, in moments like this, Zhao Yuanzhou could bend him to his will without lifting so much as a finger. All it took was a glance — that glance — and Zhuo Yichen was utterly, maddeningly undone. He had never hated himself more than in these moments when he could feel his pride slipping through his fingers like sand.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he bit out through gritted teeth, his voice strained, desperate to mask the tremor in it. His glare softened despite himself, and the warm flush spreading up his neck betrayed every word that left his mouth.

"My love—" Zhao Yuanzhou’s voice was warm, the edges of it laced with amusement. He tried to suppress the huge grin threatening to split his face, even going so far as to look down to hide it. But Zhuo Yichen didn’t need to see his face to know it was there; he could feel it, radiating off Zhao Yuanzhou like the heat that seemed to fill the room. Even if his eyes were closed, he could imagine that grin clear as day, smug and teasing in all the worst ways.

“Xiao Zhuo,” Zhao Yuanzhou continued, his tone almost sing-song. “Yan Tian fought me because the demon he was interested in was interested in me. We didn’t fight over her.”

Zhuo Yichen pressed his lips together, the words only stoking the strange warmth building in his chest. He wanted to brush it off, to ignore the way it made him feel itchy and restless, but the top of his head was already tingling, his body betraying him with its reactions. “Okay,” he said curtly, his voice clipped as he nodded, resolutely avoiding Zhao Yuanzhou’s gaze.

Zhao Yuanzhou tilted his head, clearly not satisfied with the dismissal. “It was over 800 years ago,” he added, his tone softening just a fraction.

“I believe you,” Zhuo Yichen answered quickly, too quickly.

“Then why are you still mad?” Zhao Yuanzhou asked, his grin returning as he leaned in slightly, his red eyes glinting with curiosity.

“I’m not mad,” Zhuo Yichen snapped, his voice firm but hollow. 

Zhao Yuanzhou raised a brow, arching it with excruciatingly slow precision. His expression was the epitome of are you serious? and it made Zhuo Yichen want to scream.

With a heavy sigh, Zhuo Yichen brushed past him, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He planted his feet firmly on the floor, letting out a slow exhale as frost began to creep from beneath his toes, spreading across the floor in delicate, crystalline patterns. He focused on the cold, letting it lower the temperature in the room, hoping it would do the same to the heat roiling inside him.

“I’m not mad,” Zhuo Yichen said again, quieter this time, as though the words were meant more for himself than for Zhao Yuanzhou. “Just…”

Zhao Yuanzhou didn’t move far, settling beside him on the bed. He turned slightly, his entire focus on Zhuo Yichen, watching him with an intensity that made his skin prickle. His voice dropped to a murmur, soft and insistent. “Just?”

Zhuo Yichen groaned, the sound muffled as he flopped backward onto the bed, arms splayed out like he’d just given up on the entire world. He stared at the ceiling, his expression twisted in frustration. Everything used to be so much simpler. Back when his feelings for Zhao Yuanzhou didn’t exist, when his heart wasn’t tangled in knots every time the stupid monkey so much as looked at him. Back when life was just black and white — right and wrong — and he could hate Zhao Yuanzhou with clarity and purpose for killing his family.

Now? Now it was stupid.

“It’s stupid,” he muttered, his voice laced with annoyance. His eyes squeezed shut as though doing so would block out the world — and the demon currently sitting beside him.

To his credit, Zhao Yuanzhou didn’t laugh, even though he probably wanted to. “Never,” he said, and for once, it wasn’t teasing.

Zhuo Yichen cracked one eye open suspiciously. “You’re going to laugh,” he accused, his tone daring Zhao Yuanzhou to prove him wrong.

Zhao Yuanzhou didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he propped himself up on one arm, leaning over Zhuo Yichen with an expression that was far too amused for his own good. His free hand darted out, poking Zhuo Yichen’s cheek with the pad of his finger, soft but insistent. “Why is my little wife being so stubborn today?” he hummed, his red eyes gleaming with playful affection.

Zhuo Yichen turned towards him, glaring. He flicked the demon's forehead, making his lover groan in pain and rub the injured area.

"I'm not mad at you," Zhuo Yichen repeated, his voice quieter this time, almost resigned. And he wasn’t lying. The initial flicker of annoyance had long since cooled, leaving behind something far more frustrating — anger at himself.

He hated it, hated the way his insecurities clawed at the edges of his mind despite the endless declarations of love that spilled from Zhao Yuanzhou’s lips every single day. The great demon wasn’t shy about it, either. His affection was as bold and blatant as the sun, and yet Zhuo Yichen couldn’t shake the doubt that lingered in his heart.

He was angry at himself for feeling this way, for letting those insidious thoughts creep in, whispering doubts he couldn’t silence. What if Zhao Yuanzhou found someone better? The thought stabbed like an icicle to his chest. Someone prettier, someone more graceful. Someone who didn’t come with the burden of old wounds and icy walls.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? Zhao Yuanzhou wasn’t subtle about who his heart belonged to. He paraded it, practically shouted it to the world. Every word, every lingering glance, every touch seemed to scream, Zhuo Yichen is mine. It wasn’t just affection; it was a proclamation, a claim he didn’t bother hiding.

And still, Zhuo Yichen’s insecurities persisted. Not because of anything Zhao Yuanzhou did — but because of himself.

So, no — Zhuo Yichen wasn't mad at Zhao Yuanzhou. He was mad himself for having these stupid thoughts.

"You could have anyone," Zhuo Yichen murmured, his voice heavy with doubt, fingers absently twirling a strand of Zhao Yuanzhou’s hair, the strands cool and smooth beneath his fingertips. He couldn’t stop himself from fidgeting, letting his thoughts spiral as they always did. "Prettier, stronger... Sometimes I don’t understand why you’d settle for me." 

He let the words hang in the air, half-laughing at his own ridiculousness, even as they gnawed at his insides. He glanced down at the wrecked dress that clung to him, the fabric charred and torn, and couldn’t stop the bitter feeling that rose in his chest. "I mean, I don’t even look good in this stupid dress, so—"

But before he could finish, before the self-doubt could overwhelm him entirely, Zhao Yuanzhou’s lips crashed against his. The suddenness of it stole the breath from his lungs, and all the thoughts swirling in his head evaporated in an instant. He closed his eyes, a soft sigh escaping him as he let himself melt into the kiss.

It wasn’t a frantic, desperate kiss — it was gentle, but it carried with it a deep, undeniable passion. Zhao Yuanzhou’s lips were warm, his touch steady, and for a moment, Zhuo Yichen forgot everything else.

There was a sharp bite, a tug on his bottom lip, and the sting shot through him like a spark of fire. He gasped, the sensation raw and sweet at the same time. The kiss deepened, Zhao Yuanzhou pulling him closer as his tongue slipped into Zhuo Yichen’s mouth, tasting the faint tang of his own blood as the great demon pushed deeper. The sensation set Yichen's skin ablaze, tendrils of heat coursing through his veins as if the entire world had narrowed down to this one moment, this one feeling.

Zhuo Yichen’s breath hitched in his throat as Zhao Yuanzhou cradled the back of his head, pulling him even closer, pressing their bodies together until there was no space between them. His hands grasped at Zhao Yuanzhou’s shoulders, fingers digging in, as if trying to anchor himself to something solid, something real.

When they finally pulled apart, Zhuo Yichen was left breathless, his chest rising and falling unevenly as his heart struggled to catch up with the dizzying sensations that still lingered. Zhao Yuanzhou smiled, his fingers tucking away the stray strands of Zhuo Yichen’s hair behind his ear.

"I wanted to do more than that when I saw you in that outfit," Zhao Yuanzhou murmured, his voice a perfect blend of sincerity and mirth. "I wanted to bring you back into our room and never let anyone see you."

The heat in Zhuo Yichen’s face flared, his breath catching in his throat as his heart tightened against his ribs. His mind scrambled for a response, something to say, but the words slipped away before they could form.

Zhao Yuanzhou’s gaze flickered over him, taking in every inch with an intensity that made Zhuo Yichen feel like he was being unravelled. The demon’s eyes were half-lidded, dark with something he couldn’t quite name, but it made his pulse quicken, made him feel like he was the centre of everything in this room.

"You..." Zhao Yuanzhou’s voice dropped lower, a growl threading through his words, sending a shiver down Zhuo Yichen’s spine. "Ah, Airen, you really don’t know what you do to me, do you?" The laugh that followed was soft but menacing, like the calm before a storm, yet wrapped in so much adoration that it made Zhuo Yichen’s chest ache. "You’ll always be the prettiest person in the room to me. While everyone else is busy admiring the next best thing, my eyes land on you. You’re the first thing I look at in the morning, the last before I sleep."

"And strength?" His voice dropped further, so quiet, so intimate, as though he was sharing a secret meant only for them to hear. "I don’t think one can get any stronger than being able to kill me." His words were a dark hum. "Tell me, Xiao Zhuo, when will you realise your worth?"

The question was a whisper, barely audible, but it sent a shiver racing down Zhuo Yichen’s spine. Zhao Yuanzhou was so close now, and Zhuo Yichen could feel the way his breath tickled his ear. His pulse quickened, his breath faltering as Zhao Yuanzhou continued, each word a quiet yet echoing in his hears.

"When will you realise that I’m not the only one who looks at you like they want you as you walk past? That I’m not the only one who thinks about you in my dreams? That—"

Zhuo Yichen’s mind was starting to feel fuzzy, his thoughts swirling in a haze as each word sunk deeper into him, knotting his chest tighter. His hand shot out instinctively, pressing against Zhao Yuanzhou’s mouth to stop the flow of words, but even the softest touch from his lover sent waves of warmth through him. He felt his face flush, the intensity of Zhao Yuanzhou’s gaze so overwhelming that his heart raced faster, hammering against his ribs.

"No one thinks about me like that, stupid monkey," he muttered, his voice trembling on the edges, breaking under the weight of everything he couldn’t say. His hand was still against Zhao Yuanzhou’s mouth, but he could feel the heat of his lover's breath through his fingers. "You're the only one with weird taste."

Zhao Yuanzhou laughed against his palm. He lowered Yichen's hand between them, a dangerous glint flickering in his eyes. His fangs peeked out, one still slightly tinged with his blood from the kiss.

"Good," Zhao Yuanzhou said, his voice soft, yet it held a chilling finality that sent a thrill through Zhuo Yichen’s veins. "They wouldn’t be able to do that for long if I ever found them." The words were light, teasing, but there was nothing but malice hidden in the undertones. It sounded like a joke, but Zhuo Yichen knew better.

He rested his arm over Zhuo Yichen's waist, giving him a smile. "So, now that you aren't mad anymore," he started, "about Bai Jiu sleeping here..."

And on que, Bai Jiu's voice rang from the other side of the door.

"Zhuo gege, I'm here!"

Zhuo Yichen leaned into his lover's space, breath fanning over Zhao Yuanzhou's ear as he whispered, smirking.

"Go make your bed on the floor."

"What's got you so moody?"

Zhao Yuanzhou’s eyes flickered to Li Lun as the latter settled down across from him, a smug grin pulling at the corners of his lips. "Don't tell me Zhuo Yichen actually made you sleep on the floor?" His words were laced with a taunting amusement, and he poured himself a cup of lavender tea from the pot steaming gently on the table, the scent curling through the air with an almost intoxicating sweetness.

Zhao Yuanzhou snorted, his gaze narrowing as he shot a glare at Li Lun. "Yeah, no thanks to you," he muttered, his voice a mix of irritation and resignation. 

Li Lun’s laughter filled the quiet room, rich and unbothered. He took a sip of his tea, eyes watching Zhao Yuanzhou with amusement. "So, what's actually got you mad?" His voice shifted then, no longer mocking, but serious.

"Not enough sleep, that's all." Zhao Yuanzhou replied, shrugging nonchalantly.

"It's Yan Tian, isn't it?"

Sometimes, Zhao Yuanzhou forgets just how long he and Li Lun had been friends. That Li Lun was in tune with his emotions as much as Zhao Yuanzhou was in tune with Li Lun's.

"What did he say to you?" 

Zhao Yuanzhou met his gaze for a moment, eyes flicking to the side as irritation settled like a heavy weight in his chest. His jaw tightened, the name Yan Tian alone enough to stir something dark within him. Just hearing it made his skin prickle with the kind of fury that bubbled up like molten lava — hot, overwhelming, impossible to ignore. 

He knew King Yan was stupid, but to also bring stupid children into the world? Zhao Yuanzhou had never wanted to laugh more.

"It's only me now, but when my siblings catch wind of your little wife, they'll be after him as well. So don't you think I'm the better option?"

The gourd in his hand cracked, its smooth surface splintering under the sheer pressure of his grip. His demonic energy flared outward, crackling through the air. Zhao Yuanzhou was going to murder him. Then feed him to the hell dogs.

"Who the hell does that bastard think he is?" His voice was a low growl, his knuckles white as they dug deeper into the shattered gourd, a humourless laughter leavinghis lips. "He wants Xiao Zhuo? My Xiao Zhuo?" His lips curled into a bitter sneer, a primal rage igniting in his chest. "The only thing he's going to get is his immortal bones torn from his wretched body!" 

The gourd could no longer bear his rage, shattering like glass, leaving the once-pristine container in pieces. 

Li Lun raised a brow, his eyes gleaming with a touch of respect. "He actually said that? He's got guts. I'll give him that."

Zhao Yuanzhou’s lip curled in distaste, his hand flicking dismissively as he dried himself up. "He has nothing but foolishness filling that empty head of his. Just like his father."

He had tried so hard to not let his emotions show yesterday, and he supposes he had succeeded for most of the night. And having seen his love get jealous and pouty was the perfect way to quell his burning rage. But as Zhuo Yichen and Bai Jiu went to sleep, Zhao Yuanzhou had stayed up all night just thinking, letting the anger boil.

Out of all the demons, why Zhuo Yichen? It just didn't make sense to him. And each time he looked at his beloved's neck, slight dread would creep up to him. Xiao Zhuo wasn't affected, and if Yan Tian let that information slip in front of the King, heaven knows what might have to Zhuo Yichen.

Yan Tian had always been a troublesome man to deal with. Much like his father, Yan Tian had a particular obsession with acquiring things that were never meant for him, things that he could never have. Zhao Yuanzhou now sees this as a flaw that has been passed down through the generations, each one more desperate and reckless than the last.

It's just like that one time — over eight hundred years ago — when Yan Tian’s mind had become fixated on a little flower spirit — pink lily. A spirit so beautiful that even the most skilled cultivators dared not approach it, but Yan Tian had, with all the stubbornness and determination he could muster. He could never resist anything he couldn’t claim as his own.

At the time, King Yanlou had ordered his children to retrieve the Eternal Chalice. An ornate cup that had been gifted to a river goddess long ago, a token from her lover. The chalice had the power to multiply anything placed inside it, creating an endless stream of whatever was desired. King Yanlou, ever the opportunist, saw it as the perfect trinket for his bedside table.

Then, there were only four siblings sent to retrieve it, but no matter what they did, no matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t breach the River Goddess’s domain. Her power was too great, her wrath too fierce. 

Yan Tian was not interested in winning his father’s approval, though. His focus had been captured by the pink lily. Zhao Yuanzhou had watched with a mixture of amusement and disbelief as Yan Tian became completely entranced by his flower spirit. It was a ridiculous sight.

What made it even more entertaining, and utterly absurd, was watching Yan Tian, the great and fearsome prince, be blatantly rejected by the flower spirit. The spirit had turned away from him with an almost regal disdain, her ethereal form wilting slightly in the breeze as if in pity. Yan Tian had tried everything — sacrifices, flattery, promises of eternal devotion — but it was all in vain. The spirit would have none of it, and Yan Tian’s pride had suffered terribly for it. Even more so when said flower spirit started to show interest in Zhao Yuanzhou instead.

Zhao Yuanzhou had laughed then, watching as the mighty prince of Yanlou was reduced to a wounded creature, desperately trying to win the affections of something that was never his to claim. There was no cruelty in the way he laughed, just a sharp amusement.

Though, apparently, Yan Tian didn't find it as funny, since he tried to burn Zhao Yuanzhou alive the next — and very much the last — time they met, cursing at Zhao Yuanzhou for taking the one thing he wanted.

Zhao Yuanzhou thought he was being dramatic. He never got along with dramatic people.

"Don't you find it strange, though? Li Lun asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"That he wants Xiao Zhuo?" His gaze darkened slightly, though he withheld any mention of Zhuo Yichen’s immunity to Yan Tian's touch for now. “No. My wife is a sight to behold.” He said it as if it were the most obvious truth in the world. “You should already know that.”

Li Lun made an exaggerated sound of exasperation, rolling his eyes so dramatically it looked as though his very soul was escaping through the act. With a casual flick of his wrist, a gust of wind whipped through the air, tugging at Zhao Yuanzhou’s long, dark hair. The strands snapped across his face with a sharp sting. Zhao Yuanzhou barely flinched, though, his hair falling back into place with a quiet grace as he regarded Li Lun with an unamused gaze.

"I meant the bodies," Li Lun clarified with a mock sigh, the words dripping from his lips as if he had just explained something simple to a child. He leaned back, eyes half-lidded in annoyance. "You really think there's nothing strange about them? That Yan Tian, and possibly the other brats," he added with a slight sneer, as if the very thought of the others brought a sour taste to his mouth, "just picked them at random?"

Zhao Yuanzhou ran a hand through his hair, fingers pressing down as he smoothed the long strands back into place. He had been certain that Yan Tian was behind it — the signs were unmistakable. But The revelation that the other four children of King Yan were involved had added a layer of complexity he hadn’t anticipated, throwing the entire situation into disarray. 

Zhao Yuanzhou’s jaw tightened. The problem was no longer just one demon that could kill them with a single touch. No. Now, there were five. Worse still, the youngest — that one — was a mystery. Neither Zhao Yuanzhou nor Li Lun knew a single thing about his abilities or his temper. 

Then, he thought about the case. Really thought about. Because at first, he thought Yan Tian had come across an unfortunate human. But now, it was clear he was here for something else. And if his gut instinct was right — which always is — then Yanlou had something to do with it.

A couple, a single woman who was looking after her father, a family of three by the harbour, the owner of the pendent store and her child. 

And now add Zhuo Yichen into the mix? 

No matter how one looks at it, there was just nothing similar about these victims. 

"Any leads on Ms. Mei’s secret lover?" Zhao Yuanzhou asked, his voice cutting through the quiet of the room as he poured himself some tea. The snow, which had fallen relentlessly for days, had finally stopped yesterday, leaving the world blanketed in an ethereal white. Yet, as the days passed, that pristine white had been sullied, muddied with dirt and the deep impressions of countless footsteps.

The wind had a biting sharpness to it now, creeping through the cracks of the walls when a particularly strong gust tore through the streets. Zhao Yuanzhou was just glad he secured the extra blanket over Zhuo Yichen and Bai Jiu’s snuggling forms.

Li Lun's eyes remained focused on the steam rising from his teacup, his expression impassive, but the slight edge of amusement in his voice betrayed him. "I have a lead, just a matter of waiting," he replied simply, not elaborating further, taking a sip from his cup. Zhao Yuanzhou wonders if drinking so many infused leaves is considered cannibalism for his friend. 

"However, we did forget to mention this yesterday." The tree spirit added. "We got news that the Lin couple had a child while you and Zhuo Yichen were still dealing with Yan Tian."

Zhao Yuanzhou’s brow quirked. "A child? But there were no signs of one in their home. Nor did their parents mention anything about a child."

"Wen Xiao has already sent someone to check on that," Li Lun said, his voice low and also tinged with confusion. Then, his friend paused for a moment before he levelled a knowing look at Zhao Yuanzhou. "Now, is this the right time to ask why Yan Tian is so focused on Zhuo Yichen?"

Zhao Yuanzhou’s glare was sharp, but it lacked the fiery intensity it had carried just moments before. His gaze flickered briefly to Li Lun, then shifted outside, where the world lay shrouded in an eerie stillness. His thoughts swirled, but his voice was steady when he spoke, a quiet hum that carried weight.

"Have we ever known what goes on in Yan Tian’s mind?" He asked, his words laced with a touch of something — amusement, perhaps, or the kind of quiet resignation that came from years of dealing with unnecessary nuisances.

Li Lun’s chuckled, infusing a hint of his demonic energy into the potted tree sitting innocently on the table before him. The branches trembled, then stretched outward, budding with small, blood-red berries, their colour so vivid it almost seemed unnatural. "He can't still be mad over that flower spirit, could he?" Li Lun teased, his voice light, almost playful.

Zhao Yuanzhou exhaled a long, tired sigh as he leaned back, his posture nonchalant. "It's not my fault for being created with handsome looks," he said with a smirk, his tone dripping with an exaggerated self-assurance. "It’s his fault for being intimidated by them."

Li Lun's expression went blank, his eyes narrowing in a mock disapproval that only lasted a moment before his hand shot out. With a swift flick, a single berry from the tree was sent sailing through the air, flying squarely for Zhao Yuanzhou’s face. 

But Zhao Yuanzhou snatched the berry from the air with little to no effort, popping it into his mouth before grimacing. "Too sweet," he muttered under his breath, the cloying taste of the berry lingering on his tongue as he tried to hide his disgust.

Li Lun sighed deeply. "Look," he began, his voice softer now. "I didn’t want to bring this up, but I guess I have no choice." The change in tone was subtle, but it was enough to catch Zhao Yuanzhou’s attention. "Haven’t you noticed something different about Zhuo Yichen?" 

Zhao Yuanzhou rose a brow. "How so?"

"I've been observing him these past couple of days," Li Lun began, his voice calm, but there was an edge of something in his words that made Zhao Yuanzhou’s brow furrow in suspicion. "And before you give me that look—" Li Lun raised his hand in a quick, dismissive gesture before Zhao Yuanzhou could even open his mouth, catching the sight of Zhao Yuanzhou’s warning glare. "—I was not looking at him like that," he hastily clarified, his eyes widening slightly as he shook his head, as if the very thought of it was absurd. "I meant his aura," he clarified. "Haven’t you sensed anything different?"

Zhao Yuanzhou’s gaze shifted, his mind shifting, searching through his recent interactions with Zhuo Yichen. His lips pressed together, thinking back over the past few days. There had been small, subtle shifts, but nothing had seemed out of the ordinary. 

"Apart from him being slightly warmer than usual?" Zhao Yuanzhou finally responded. "Nothing of notable difference." He had chalked up the warmth to the possibility of an incoming flu, nothing more. Maybe the change in temperature had been simply his body reacting to something mundane. After all, it wasn’t unusual for the weather to shift so quickly, and for someone to catch a chill.

But then, as Zhao Yuanzhou thought more deeply, something nagged at him. Had he been surrounding Zhuo Yichen with so much of his own malicious energy that he hadn’t been able to sense anything strange? 

"I’m sure it’s nothing," Li Lun muttered. "But with Yan Tian all of a sudden showing interest, I think you—"

Before he could finish the sentence, a bone-chilling scream pierced the stillness of the Demon Hunting Bureau.

Li Lun’s eyes were closed, and he took a sharp, unsteady breath, his body stiffening as the sound reverberated through the room. "Does he ever break a vocal cord?" He asked, voice momentarily betraying his usual nonchalance. His tone was taken aback, the question leaving his lips more out of reflex than genuine curiosity.

"Must have seen a spider." Zhao Yuanzhou laughed. Another scream followed, and Zhao Yuanzhou immediately retracted his statement and mentally corrected it to baby lizard. Bai Jiu would have fainted after the first scream had it been a spider. "So, you were saying?" He asked, looking back to his friend.

But Li Lun didn't hear him, nor was he seeing him for that matter. He was gazing beyond him, eyes wide open.

Zhao Yuanzhou’s brows furrowed in confusion, turning to see what was so interesting. He turned, expecting to find something mundane, but what greeted him was far from ordinary. The sight that met his gaze left him frozen in place, speechless.

There, standing before him, was Xiao Zhuo. His Xiao Zhuo. But the figure in front of him wasn’t quite the same as the one he’d known so intimately.

Xiao Zhuo’s eyes were wide with panic, frantic with the kind of desperation that sent a sudden jolt through Zhao Yuanzhou’s chest. His breath hitched at the look of sheer helplessness in his eyes — eyes that, even now, seemed to scream for help without a single word.

Zhao Yuanzhou couldn’t tear his gaze away. Xiao Zhuo’s face was flushed with the remnants of sleep, a soft pink that still lingered. His sleep robes were askew, the fabric crumpled and uneven as though he had hurriedly thrown them on, disoriented and confused. The robes slipped off one of his shoulders, the pale, smooth skin exposed to the air, Zhao Yuanzhou's teeth marks catching the morning light.

But it wasn’t the marks, nor the flushed skin, that left him speechless. A pair of ears — pointed, sharp, and unmistakably not there before — perked from the top of Zhuo Yichen’s head, flicking nervously in the air. The black fur covering them matched perfectly with the glossy, inky strands of his lover's hair. They twitched with an almost animalistic awareness, every movement tunned to the slightest sound in the room.

But that wasn’t it.

A tail. 

A tail, long and impossibly fluffy, swayed behind Xiao Zhuo in quick, jerky movements, mirroring the panicked energy radiating from him. It was enormous — thick, heavy, and impossibly lush, the dark fur rippling with every twitch. The tail was so long it almost seemed to drag behind him, sweeping the floor as it moved, and it was thick enough to coil around Zhuo Yichen’s waist, completely encircling him, and hiding half of his torso.

A Huli Jing.

Zhou Yichen was a fox.

"You're right, you wife is a sight to behold." Li Lun chuckled in disbelieve.

Zhao Yuanzhou brought his fingers to his lips in a seal. "Close."

"Zhao Yuanzhou you fucking bastard!" Li Lun shouted almost immediately, but Zhao Yuanzhou was hardly paying attention as his friend slammed his fists onto the table. "You could have just told me to close my eyes!"

Zhao Yuanzhou mind was reeling as Zhuo Yichen looked at him with teary eyes, his fox ears twitching at every noise, and tail still frantically sweeping side to side.

His beloved looked absolutely stunning.

Then, as if the rational side of his mind had finally caught up to him, his blood grew cold.

"Li Lun." Zhao Yuanzhou's voice was low but sharp. His gaze remained fixed on Xiao Zhuo, whose expression had shifted from confusion to concern, the subtle furrow of his brows deepening as he caught the tone in Zhao Yuanzhou's voice. "What kind of demon was Yan Shuang's mother?"

He made a disgruntled noise, his lips twisting into something between a grimace, eyes still closed shut. "A Fuzhu?" Li Lun mused, the words rolling off his tongue with an almost absent-minded air. "No, that's not it." He mumbled under his breathe, thinking. "Oh, right," he suddenly snapped his fingers as if an idea had struck him. "A Huli Jing. I think she was a fox spirit if I remember correctly."

Zhao Yuanzhou's heart stopped beating for a second.

"We got news that the Lin couple had a child."

"Sh-she gave birth before she died."

"The family of three by the harbour."

"The owner of the pendent store, Ms Yin, and her child."

"A Huli Jing. I think she was a fox spirit if I remember correctly."

"A child." Zhao Yuanzhou breathed out into a cold laugh, a cruel sound that was hollow and detached. "That bastard wants a child." 

Chapter Text

The silence in the room hung thick, neither suffocating nor gentle. Wen Xiao and Pei Sijing exchanged fleeting glances, their eyes speaking in volumes that their voices dared not break. A thread of concern pulled tight between them, one glance layered with quiet worry, the next with muted urgency. Across the room, Ying Lei shattered the delicate tension with an unrestrained laugh. His wide-eyed delight painted his face with a boyish glee as he leaned closer to Zhuo Yichen, hands twitching with curiosity.

"Wow," he said, his voice a breathless mixture of disbelief and wonder. He reached out, his fingers poking at the soft, triangular ears perched atop Zhuo Yichen’s head. "It's actually real."

Zhuo Yichen recoiled, ears flattening instinctively as a low, irritated sound escaped him.

Bai Jiu swatted Ying Lei’s away before he could prod further. "Of course they’re real," Bai Jiu snapped.

Zhuo Yichen sank further into his seat, his usually confident posture now weighted down by an unfamiliar awkwardness. Heaven, he thought bitterly, must have developed a twisted sense of humour. His newly-formed tail brushed against the floor, its soft fur dragging in slow, reluctant sways. The sensation was maddeningly foreign, the added weight pulling at his balance.

"So..." Wen Xiao’s voice finally broke through, tentative and uncertain. Yichen’s fingers fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve, as if grounding himself. "Xiao Zhuo is a fox?"

Zhuo Yichen let his eyes fall shut, an attempt to retreat from reality. He counted to three, hoping with every fibre of his being that when his eyes opened, he’d be human again — that the world would stop playing this cruel joke. But when he looked again, his reflection in the polished tea set on the table confirmed the truth: pointed ears twitched atop his head, a twitch he could neither control nor ignore.

He sighed, the sound heavy and tired, as if it carried the weight of the entire morning. "I guess so," he muttered at last, his voice flat and stretched thin. He dropped his gaze to the wooden floor, his hands curling into fists in his lap. Beneath his tone, there was a tremor he tried to hide.

For a moment, no one moved. Even Wen Xiao — ever the voice of reason — seemed unsure of how to proceed. The golden light of the sun filtered through the windows, casting long shadows that danced across the floorboards. The warm hues might have made the room look inviting under other circumstances, but today, they only seemed to add to the absurdity of the situation.

A fox. Zhuo Yichen was a fox.

And no amount of denial could change that now.

“Before that.” Bai Jiu slowly raised his hand, as though careful not to disrupt the thick air hanging in the room, and then pointed towards the end of the table, where a broad, unmoving back faced them. “Why,” Bai Jiu began, the faintest hint of bemusement in his tone, “is Li gege turned the other way?”

Every head turned in unison, their gazes landing on Li Lun’s form. He sat stiffly, his shoulders squared and his posture unnervingly rigid. The sigh that escaped him was heavy, rumbling deep within his chest.

“Ask the stupid monkey,” Li Lun grumbled at last, his voice low and rough, frayed at the edges with irritation. “We live in the same place, Zhu Yan. I can’t not look at him. Can you stop being ridiculous for even a second?”

Zhuo Yichen blinked, furrowing his brows as his gaze shifted to the stupid monkey in question. Zhao Yuanzhou sat there, nursing his drink, his dark eyes glaring daggers at Li Lun. He took another long gulp from his wooden gourde, the movement slow.

Wen Xiao spoke up first, the corner of her lips quirking upward in quiet amusement. “You don’t want Li Lun to look at Xiao Zhuo?” She asked, voice light and teasing.

“I think I’m smelling jealousy,” Ying Lei sing-songed, waggling his brows with exaggerated glee. His tone dripped with mischief, his grin wide.

That grin, however, faltered the moment Zhao Yuanzhou’s glare swung his way. The intensity of it was enough to make Ying Lei squirm, his bravado shrinking under the weight of the great demon’s eyes. With a huff, Ying Lei averted his gaze, suddenly far more interested in the intricate carvings on the table’s edge.

Zhuo Yichen couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound soft and warm as he leaned closer to his lover. He reached out, poking Zhao Yuanzhou’s cheek gently. “Green doesn’t look good on you, stupid monkey,” he teased.

Zhao Yuanzhou’s narrowed eyes darted to him, his expression a mix of irritation and something darker. “What are you going to do when I’m outside?” Zhuo Yichen continued, the teasing lilt still present in his voice. “Tell everyone to turn around when I walk the streets?”

The response was immediate, muttered around the rim of Zhao Yuanzhou’s drink like it was a secret meant only for himself. “I’ll just turn them all blind…”

The absurdity of the statement made the others exchange looks — part incredulous, part resigned. Wen Xiao shook her head with a knowing smirk, while Pei Sijing sighed, her hand coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose. Even Bai Jiu allowed the faintest twitch of amusement to tug at the corner of his lips as he shook his head.

“Childish,” Li Lun muttered under his breath.

Zhuo Yichen playfully rolled his eyes, reaching out and lowering Zhao Yuanzhou’s arm, forcing the demon to stop mid-sip. “Zhu Yan," he drawled, his eyes narrowing in a soft but unmistakable warning as he tilted his head ever so slightly.

Zhao Yuanzhou stayed silent for a beat too long, his dark eyes locked with Zhuo Yichen’s as if searching for something. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he let his head tilt back slightly. “Fine, fine,” he said at last, though the reluctance in his voice dripped like honey laced with poison. “The tree can turn around, but he better not have any funny thoughts.” His drawled, each word a warning aimed at his friend.

Zhuo Yichen blinked. Honestly, his lover had a way of turning molehills into mountains. The absurdity of it almost made him laugh, but he swallowed it down, settling for a sigh instead.

“I’m not a moron,” Li Lun spat, his tone curt as his head turned, finally granting them his full attention. He spread his arms, letting the flowing sleeves of his robe billow faintly before settling in neat, silken folds over his knees. The contrast between his calm posture and his simmering annoyance was almost theatrical. “I value my life, unlike your buddy Yan Tian.”

“He’s not my buddy,” Zhao Yuanzhou bit out through gritted teeth.

And just like that, the atmosphere in the room shifted. At the mention of Yan Tian, all previous banter drained away, leaving only a suffocating quiet in its wake. The silence felt alive, curling in the corners like smoke, coiling tighter and tighter around them.

Right. This wasn’t just about Zhuo Yichen’s sudden transformation into his new, half-demonic form.

Zhuo Yichen swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. The sinking feeling in his gut was almost unbearable now, a slow, creeping dread that whispered to him that whatever answers were coming, he wasn’t going to like them.

It was Pei Sijing who spoke this time, her voice low and careful, like someone attempting to step around shards of broken glass. “So… Yan Tian wants Zhuo Yichen because he’s a fox?”

The question lingered in the air, brushing against the ears of everyone in the room.

Zhao Yuanzhou sighed, a deep, reluctant sound that carried with it a weight that wasn’t entirely his own. He leaned back slightly, his expression closing off, the sharp edges of his jawline catching the dim light. 

“Kind of,” he said at last, his tone clipped. His hand absently tightened around the rim of the wooden gourde still in his lap, as if grounding himself for what he was about to say. “It’s not because Xiao’s a fox.” He paused, the hesitation stretching uncomfortably. “It’s because of what Yan Tian can get since he is a fox.”

"You're making no sense." Bai Jiu said, tilting his head in confusion.

Zhao Yuanzhou’s fingers pressed against his temple, though it did little to mask the simmering frustration etched into his features. His jaw was tight, his brow furrowed deeply, and his usually sharp eyes were shadowed by a weariness that Zhuo Yichen wasn’t used to seeing. Even when they’d faced death together — his death — Zhao Yuanzhou hadn’t seemed this… apprehensive.

Zhuo Yichen’s brows knit together as he watched his lover, concern curling in his chest. Without thinking, he reached out, letting his hand rest lightly on Zhao Yuanzhou’s knee, his thumb tracing absent circles in an attempt to soothe him. The tension in Zhao Yuanzhou’s body didn’t waver, though. If anything, it seemed to coil tighter.

Finally, Zhao Yuanzhou’s voice broke the silence. 

“The bastard wants a child.”

And then — silence.

It wasn’t just any silence; it was the kind that seemed to stretch endlessly. No one moved, no one even dared to breathe too loudly. It was as if the very air had turned to glass, fragile and brittle.

Zhuo Yichen’s breath hitched, a sharp intake that caught in his throat. His mind reeled, stumbling over itself as it tried to process what he’d just heard. A child? Yan Tian wanted him because of—

“A… c-child?” Zhuo Yichen’s voice cracked as he spoke, the word catching on the edge of incredulity and disbelief. His wide, blue eyes darted toward Zhao Yuanzhou, searching his face for any sign of a joke, some cruel prank born from his lover’s mischievous streak. “Me?”

At the other end of the table, Li Lun choked on his tea, sputtering as the liquid splattered across the table in a messy spray. Wen Xiao and Pei Sijing’s expressions were mirrors of shared horror, their wide eyes flicking between Zhuo Yichen and Zhao Yuanzhou.

Bai Jiu stared openly, his mouth slightly parted in shock. Next to him, Ying Lei’s jaw hung so low it might as well have been on the floor, his bewildered gaze fixed on Zhao Yuanzhou as if the demon had just sprouted wings.

Zhuo Yichen, meanwhile, was too busy spiralling into his own storm of indignation to notice the chaos unfolding around him. His ears twitched furiously atop his head, their triangular tips perking high in irritation. 

“I’m a guy!” He shouted, scandalized by the mere suggestion. The blush on his cheeks was furious, a deep red that burned across his pale skin like wildfire. “Zhao Yuanzhou, there are some jokes that are not funny!” His tail lashed behind him, sweeping across the floor in frantic, agitated arcs that betrayed his bewilderment.

But Zhao Yuanzhou didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink. He simply stared back at Zhuo Yichen, his expression unnervingly calm, unnervingly serious.

“I’m not joking,” Zhao Yuanzhou said flatly, sending a chill down Zhuo Yichen’s spine. There was no humour in his tone, no sly grin on his lips. Just those piercing, unyielding eyes that held Zhuo Yichen in place.

The room felt colder now, as though the air itself had drawn back in hesitation.

Ying Lei was the first to break the silence, his voice cracking as he leaned forward, his expression frozen somewhere between disbelief and wonder. “Oh great heavens and the 28 mountains of the Wilderness,” he cursed, his eyes wide and unblinking, his mouth falling open. “His touch doesn’t affect you.”

Wen Xiao’s head whipped around so fast it was a wonder her neck didn’t snap. Her dark eyes widened, the disbelief there sharp, her brows pulling together in an indignant furrow. “That’s not possible,” she said with unwavering confidence, her voice firm and brimming with conviction. “He strangled you back at Tianxiang Pavilion. I saw it myself.”

At her words, Zhuo Yichen’s hand moved to his neck almost instinctively, his fingers brushing the skin where Yan Tian’s grip had once burned. A shudder ran down his spine, like the chill of a ghost’s breath against his flesh. Even now, he could feel it — the phantom heat that had pulsed against his skin, molten and sickening.

“It felt…” Zhuo Yichen trailed off, his voice strained as the memory washed over him. He grimaced, his nose wrinkling as though he’d just tasted something vile. “…hot. And disgusting.” His fingers tightened briefly around his neck before he dropped his hand back into his lap, his blue eyes glinting with unease. “But he couldn’t take my lifeforce. I don’t know why, but he couldn’t.”

A low chuckle erupted in the room, drawing all eyes to Li Lun, who leaned back with a casual ease that felt almost mocking. He tapped the edge of the table with his knuckles, a rhythmic, hollow sound that echoed through the heavy silence. “Well,” he began, his voice tinged with something that sounded suspiciously like amusement. “Now everything makes perfect sense.”

Li Lun’s sharp, calculating gaze flicked to Zhuo Yichen, lingering on the fox’s ears and tail with a peculiar sort of fascination. “Huli Jings are the only demons capable of converting demonic energy into pure energy,” he explained. “Which, naturally, makes it possible for them to withstand an underworlder’s touch. Quite fascinating, really.” He paused, his lips quirking upward in a faint smirk. “A rare trait, and a dangerous one at that.”

Zhao Yuanzhou’s patience, however, had clearly reached its limit. With a sudden, deafening slam, his hand came down on the table with enough force to rattle the cups and bowls resting on its surface. Bai Jiu let out a startled yelp, nearly toppling over as his wide eyes darted to the source of the sound.

“I’ll show you what’s fascinating,” Zhao Yuanzhou growled, his voice a low, seething snarl. His eyes burned with barely contained fury as he leaned forward, his entire frame taut with the promise of violence. “When I rip every single limb from his body until that ludicrous idea leaves his fucking head.”

Zhuo Yichen’s ears twitched sharply at the outburst, flattening against his head in a mixture of irritation and alarm. His tail bristled, the fur puffing out in jagged spikes as it swished agitatedly behind him.

“This is absurd!” Zhuo Yichen snapped, his own voice rising as he pushed himself upright in his seat, glaring first at Zhao Yuanzhou and then at the others. “Can we stop talking like me giving birth is even remotely possible?” His hands flailed toward himself, motioning in an exaggerated manner that made his exasperation almost comical. “Look at me!” He barked, ears perked high and twitching again. “I’m a fox — but I’m also a guy!” He emphasized the last word.

Ying Lei, seated at the far corner of the table, raised a hand as though about to interject, only to lower it again, clearly deciding against it. 

“This is insane,” Zhuo Yichen muttered under his breath, crossing his arms and glaring down at the table, his ears still flicking in agitation. “First I wake up like this, now we’re talking about—” He stopped himself, huffing in frustration, his tail curling tightly around his leg as though trying to shield him from the absurdity of it all.

Zhao Yuanzhou’s hand moved up, his fingers brushing gently against the soft fur of Zhuo Yichen’s ears. His touch was light, deliberate, and it had the infuriating effect of calming Zhuo Yichen against his better judgment. A reluctant shiver ran through him, his body instinctively relaxing under the careful scratch.

“It’s not impossible for demons,” Zhao Yuanzhou said at last, his tone matter-of-fact, as if such an outrageous statement could possibly be comforting.

Zhuo Yichen’s eyes widened in sheer, unmitigated horror, his hand shooting out to grip the hilt of his Cloud Light Sword. His tail puffed out in alarm again. “What?” He managed to choke out, his voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and rising panic.

Across the room, Wen Xiao blinked furiously, her brows furrowing as if she were desperately trying to reconcile what she’d just heard with the laws of reason. Her pen hovered mid-air, forgotten, its tip dripping ink onto her notebook as her lips parted in stunned confusion.

Pei Sijing wasn’t faring much better. She froze, her teacup trembling in her hands as the liquid sloshed dangerously close to the edge. Then, as if her body had only just registered the absurdity of the situation, she choked, a sputtering cough breaking the tense silence as tea spilled down her chin.

Meanwhile, Bai Jiu’s reaction was entirely different. His wide, starry eyes darted to Zhuo Yichen, filled with childlike wonder that only made the situation feel even more surreal. “I could have a baby brother,” he breathed in amazement, his voice tinged with a strange mixture of awe and disbelief.

“Bai Jiu!” Zhuo Yichen snapped, his ears twitching wildly in irritation. The sharpness of his tone made the younger flinch, his dreamy expression quickly shifting to one of alarm as he clamped his hands over his mouth, sealing his lips shut like he’d just uttered some forbidden spell.

Zhuo Yichen’s glare darted back to Zhao Yuanzhou with a ferocity that even the great demon hadn’t quite anticipated. His blue eyes burned, glowing. “And you!” He seethed, jabbing the Cloud Light Sword in Zhao Yuanzhou’s direction, the blade’s hilt shimmering as though responding to its master’s rising anger. “Why didn’t you mention any of this before we started dating?!”

Zhao Yuanzhou blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the sheer intensity of Zhuo Yichen’s glare. But then, slowly, a chuckle rumbled from his chest, low and unapologetic. The annoyance that had darkened his features earlier seemed to dissipate, melting away into a mockingly apologetic smile that only served to irritate Zhuo Yichen further.

Carefully, almost lazily, Zhao Yuanzhou reached out and wrapped his fingers around the sword, enough to lower it an inch. “It’s because,” he said, his voice as smooth and infuriatingly calm as ever, “I didn’t think you’d turn out to be a Huli Jing of all things.”

Zhuo Yichen’s jaw dropped, his ears twitching furiously. He sputtered, trying and failing to form a coherent response, his thoughts too tangled in indignation to take shape.

“Yes, yes, exactly!” Ying Lei chimed in from the corner, his voice loud and overly eager as he waved his hands in a frantic attempt to diffuse the tension. “There are only a rare few male demons who can conceive!” He held up two fingers as if that would emphasize his point. “Like wolf spirits! Or snake spirits! It’s— it’s really rare, okay?”

Zhuo Yichen rounded on him next, his glare sharp enough to make the mountain god lean back defensively. “Rare? Rare?” He echoed, his voice climbing an octave as his tail bristled. “You’re talking about me like I’m some kind of mythical breeding animal!”

“Well…” Li Lun spoke up, amused.

“I will stab you,” Zhuo Yichen threated, making Li Lun shut his lips immediately, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword as his ears flattened against his head in pure exasperation.

But then Bai Jiu, unable to help himself, whispered, “a baby brother would be kind of cute…”

“BAI JIU!”

The younger demon flinched again, but this time he wasn’t quick enough to hide the mischievous grin that tugged at the corners of his lips.

Zhuo Yichen groaned, dragging a hand down his face as his tail coiled tightly around his leg again like it was trying to squeeze the madness out of him. “I am losing my mind,” he muttered, his blue eyes darting toward the ceiling as though silently pleading for the heavens to grant him some semblance of sanity.

Unfortunately, the heavens remained silent, leaving him to contend with the chaos alone.

“But I thought demons aren’t born?” Pei Sijing asked, her words measured but edged with a quiet curiosity. 

“They aren’t,” Li Lun replied smoothly, his tone tinged with amusement that Zhuo Yichen immediately found irritating, one hand resting lazily against the polished table as his sharp gaze flitted between the group. “Procreation between two demons is impossible.”

His lips curved into a faint smirk as he gestured toward Ying Lei. “Gods and demons? Now that happens. Example A.”

Ying Lei, seated just across the room, looked up with a broad grin and raised his hand like a student caught in a teacher’s spotlight. “That’s me!” He quipped, his tone light and proud.

Li Lun’s smirk deepened, but his gaze shifted to Zhuo Yichen, holding an almost clinical fascination lingering far too long for Zhao Yuanzhou's liking. 

Without a word, Zhao Yuanzhou's hand rose, fingers moving with the precise motion of forming a seal at his lips, a silent warning.

Li Lun’s smirk faltered. “Fine, fine,” he muttered under his breath, turning his head away with an exasperated sigh. “Apologies,” he added, though the word sounded begrudging, like it had been dragged out of him.

He cleared his throat, folding his hands in his lap. “But half-demons, since they have their human counterpart, can.” His tone softened as he continued, though the glimmer of amusement still lingered at the corners of his mouth.

Zhuo Yichen’s ears twitched as he absorbed the words, his unease steadily growing. “Half-demons...” he muttered under his breath, his fingers curling into fists.

“It’s really rare, though,” Zhao Yuanzhou interjected, his voice low but steady. He reached out without a second thought, his fingers slipping into the soft fur behind Zhuo Yichen’s ears. His touch was so deliberate, so achingly familiar, that Zhuo Yichen felt the anger in his shoulders from moments ago melt away again before he could stop it.

His traitorous body leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed for just a moment as warmth spread across his skin. Zhao Yuanzhou’s fingers were rough but gentle, like they’d been made to soothe him and no one else.

“Like we said before,” Zhao Yuanzhou continued, his voice carrying the faintest note of resignation, “everything in this world is about balance. The world’s karma dictates when a couple is blessed with a child. Many parents call them miracle births. He snorted softly, amusement flickering in his red eyes. “Though ‘blessed’ might not be the right word, depending on who you ask.”

“Miracle births,” Wen Xiao repeated, her brow furrowed in thought, writing away in her notebook.

“It’s even rarer for male half-demons,” Zhao Yuanzhou added, glancing down at Zhuo Yichen with a small, knowing smile that only made the fox demon bristle. “But not impossible.”

Zhuo Yichen opened his mouth to argue, to protest, to shout something about how utterly ridiculous the entire conversation was — but before he could speak, Ying Lei chimed in, his voice far too cheerful for the gravity of the topic.

“I’ve met a willow spirit once,” Ying Lei said, nodding sagely as if he were imparting some great wisdom. “He was a man. Have birth to the cutest sapling.” He cupped his hands as if cradling an invisible child, his grin widening.

Zhuo Yichen stared at him, slack-jawed, his tail curling protectively around his waist as though shielding him. “A… sapling?” He echoed weakly.

Ying Lei didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, yes. Adorable thing. The spirit carried the baby in his branches for a decade before it grew strong enough to sprout roots of its own. Very heart-warming story, actually. They visited the mountains quiet often when the child got its human form.”

Zhuo Yichen gave him a blank look. “I am not a willow spirit,” he muttered, his voice muffled but laced with frustration.

“No,” Zhao Yuanzhou agreed, his tone soft but maddeningly amused. His fingers resumed their slow, soothing strokes behind Zhuo Yichen’s ears. “You’re a fox. A very rare, very special fox.”

Zhuo Yichen let out a strangled noise, caught between a growl and a whimper. “You’re enjoying this,” he accused, glaring at his lover through narrowed eyes.

Zhao Yuanzhou chuckled, his expression softening as he met Zhuo Yichen’s gaze. “Maybe a little,” he admitted, leaning closer to press a kiss to the top of Zhuo Yichen’s head.

Zhuo Yichen felt like he was caught between the sky and the sea, weightless and drowning all at once. His chest tightened with the heaviness of it, his ears flattening against his head.

His eyes fluttered shut, brows knitting together in irritation. The world felt unbearably loud, even in the oppressive quiet of the room. He could feel the weight of everyone’s stares, pressing on him like stones in a river. With a slow, measured breath, he opened his eyes again.

“You said I could convert demonic energy into pure energy?” His voice was soft, the words trembling just enough to betray the cracks in his composure, too exhausted to feel angry anymore. “Is that why he wants me?” He asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Zhao Yuanzhou clicked his tongue, the sound sharp and brimming with irritation. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, Zhuo Yichen thought his lover might snap again. Instead, Zhao Yuanzhou released a heavy sigh, his broad shoulders slumping as the tension eased slightly from his posture.

When he met Zhuo Yichen’s gaze again, anger simmered beneath the surface, but his eyes were warm, achingly gentle.

“It’s because the child won’t die,” Zhao Yuanzhou began, his voice steady but carrying a bitter edge. “Every single victim they’ve targeted has had one thing in common: a child. Two of them are already dead.” His hand tightened around his gourde, knuckles paling with the pressure. “The other two… missing. Likely taken by one of the other Yan siblings. I don’t know why they’re so fixated on children, but they’re willing to go to great lengths to get what they want."

“Can’t he just find someone else?” Wen Xiao asked. She didn’t bother to hide the irritation colouring her tone, her lips curving downward in a deep frown.

“Huli Jings are incredibly rare,” Ying Lei began, crossing his arms over his chest. “Since they can transform demonic energy into pure energy, and vice versa, they’re often the ones who dissolve disputes.” He paused, gaze distant. “I can’t even remember the last time anyone’s seen one. It’s like karma decided the world needed another right now.”

Zhuo Yichen tilted his head slightly, his fox ears twitching, the soft fur brushing against his hair. The words settled uneasily in his chest, twisting into a knot of discomfort. 

Beside him, Bai Jiu inched closer, his wide eyes darting up to Zhuo Yichen with hesitant curiosity. His small hands fidgeted against Yichen's sleeve, betraying his unease. “Aren’t they… calamities though?” He asked quietly, as though speaking too loudly might invite misfortune.

Zhao Yuanzhou snorted, the sound sharp and dismissive as he reached out to brush a stray lock of Zhuo Yichen’s hair behind his ear. The affectionate gesture sent a shiver down Yichen’s spine, though it did little to soothe the strange unease building in him.

“The gates of heaven are guarded by a nine-tailed fox,” Zhao Yuanzhou said matter-of-factly, as though this alone was enough to dispel Bai Jiu’s apprehension. His dark eyes glinted with annoyance as he scoffed, shaking his head at the absurdity of the misconception. 

“The only reason people think foxes bring calamity is because the most famous story involving one tells how a fox brought the downfall of an entire nation. If you ask me, it was completely the Emperor’s fault. Who in their right mind listens to a concubine over their most trusted advisors? Honestly.” Zhao Yuanzhou waved a dismissive hand, his voice dripping with exasperation. “They’ll let anyone sit on the throne, apparently, no concern for intelligence or sound judgment.”

Li Lun chuckled in agreement. “The world would be overflowing with evil demons if every single one of them were evil seductresses,” he said.

He paused, his gaze flitting briefly to Bai Jiu, who was listening with rapt attention. Li Lun seemed to think better of his next words, adjusting his tone to something gentler as he continued. “Most Huli Jings are playful by nature, but that doesn’t make them malicious. Many people believe that because their most common way to cultivate energy is by...” He hesitated, searching for the right phrasing before finishing, “…dual cultivation."

Ying Lei nodded. “Exactly!” He chimed in, waving his hand in emphatic agreement. “All that nonsense about seduction and calamities — just baseless stories spread by people who don’t understand anything about foxes. I’d bet anything the original storyteller was just jealous of a Huli Jing's looks.”

“Okay, but Xiao Zhuo can’t be the only one fighting Yan Tian.” Wen Xiao frowned. “How can we protect him against something we can’t even touch?”

Zhao Yuanzhou sighed. “All of them have weaknesses,” he said, his voice low. “We just haven’t figured out what they are yet. None of them can stay on the surface too long without returning to Diyu. The longer they linger, the weaker they’ll become, and that’s when they’ll be vulnerable to our attacks.”

“And once we find their inner core...” Li Lun’s voice slid into the conversation smoothly, his tone calm but carrying a dangerous edge. “Break it, and they’re done. Dead.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis, the sound echoing in the room room. Then, his attention shifted, his sharp features softening with something almost playful as his eyes fixed on Zhuo Yichen.

“Speaking of…” Li Lun trailed off. He tilted his head slightly, as if hearing a melody. His eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment, and when they reopened, they burned with an unsettling emerald light.

The glow of Li Lun’s gaze sent a shiver skittering down Zhuo Yichen’s spine. The fox demon instinctively leaned back, his tail sweeping around his waist protectively.

Li Lun’s smile curved upward. The glow in his eyes intensified for a fraction of a second before he closed them again, the light fading away like the dying embers of a fire. When he reopened them, his gaze was normal again, though the smugness remained firmly in place.

“Well now, would you look at that?” he mused, his tone far too amused for Yichen’s liking.

“Look at what?” Zhuo Yichen asked, confused.

Li Lun leaned back leisurely, his long robes pooling elegantly around him like ink spreading across paper. He made a show of shrugging, as though the answer wasn’t something important. “We need to keep you away from the full moon,” he said, his tone maddeningly casual, like he was commenting on the weather.

"Why?" Pei Sijing furrowed.

Ying Lei gasped, clapping his hands together. "A nine-tail?"

Bai Jiu’s small hands reached out, his fingers disappearing into the softness of Zhuo Yichen's fluffy tail as he tugged at it gently, confusion furrowing his brow. "But da-ge only has one?" 

Zhuo Yichen met Zhao Yuanzhou’s gaze. The great demon’s smile was a quiet, amusement flickering in his eyes. “It’s like how my true form emerges under the blood moon,” Zhao Yuanzhou said slowly. “All Huli Jings are capable of growing their ninth-tail, but only if they cultivate enough. But some foxes become berserk when the full moon comes around."

Zhuo Yichen felt a chill wash over him as he turned his gaze downward, his hands trembling as they rested in his lap. The fear was immediate, an icy twist around his heart. "I could hurt everyone here?" His voice was barely above a whisper, fragile with a raw edge of fear.

Li Lun’s chuckled, the sound warm and teasing. “The most I’d be worried about,” Li Lun began, shaking his head with a mock sigh, “is that you accidentally seduce someone who isn’t Zhu Yan.” 

The heat in Zhuo Yichen’s cheeks flared instantly, his ears flushing a vivid crimson as a flurry of laughter erupted from the others. His tail twitched in indignation, sweeping across the floor in irritated swishes. 

Zhao Yuanzhou scoffed loudly. “As if I’d let my Xiao Zhuo seduce anyone but—”

"Be quiet." Zhuo Yichen scolded. His tail flicked, and without warning, it hit Zhao Yuanzhou square in the face with a soft, thwapping sound, the fur brushing lightly against his lover’s cheek.

Zhao Yuanzhou blinked, his features shifting into a mock pout as he rubbed his face with the back of his hand. “Cruel,” he muttered, clearly unbothered but playing up the drama for effect.

Wen Xiao's eyes glinted with mischief, a smirk on her face. “I guess I’ll have to ready a room every time the full moon comes around, just in case Xiao Zhuo turns… wild.” Her tone was light, but there was an edge of playfulness in her words, a teasing glimmer that only made Zhuo Yichen flush deeper.

Pei Sijing, sipping her tea, caught his eye over the rim of her cup and gave him an encouraging smile, the corners of her lips curling in amusement.

“Wen Xiao!” Zhuo Yichen’s shout was a mix of embarrassment and genuine disbelief. His tail puffed up with annoyance, and he glanced to his side. “Bai Jiu, cover your ears. Don’t listen to any of the nonsense—”

"DAREN!"

All laughter stopped, heads whipping to the side as they heard the doors opened.

"Daren! Daren!" A frantic voice called out, hoarse with exertion. The guard stumbled forward, gasping for breath as he dropped to his knees, his head bowed. "Li-daren, Wen-daren — we finally have news."

The words tumbled from the guard's lips in a desperate rush, but his gaze flickered upward only to freeze as it landed on Zhuo Yichen. For a split second, time seemed to still. Panic flashed in the guard’s eyes, his breath catching when he saw the unmistakable signs of something inhuman: the sharp, fluffy fox ears perched atop Zhuo Yichen's head, and the sweeping tail that curled behind him, elegant yet impossible to ignore.

Zhuo Yichen let out a soft sigh, his chest tightening. His heart thudded against his ribs, but his expression remained unreadable, a mask of indifference that barely veiled the small rush of panic within. He did his best to conceal his tail, though the long, silken fur swished beneath Bai Jiu's hands, who clutched the base of it in a futile attempt to hide it. The kid's arms could barely encircle the fluffy mass, and Zhuo Yichen winced as his tail bobbed awkwardly. Zhuo Yichen flattened his ears, pressing them as close to his scalp as he could, hoping his dark hair would obscure their shape. 

Ever since that night when everyone found out he was a demon, Zhuo Yichen had grown accustomed to the startled stares, the whispered words that seemed to hang in the air like an invisible fog. He doesn't mind it as much, and has over time gotten comfortable in his own skin. And while being part demon fox now has him freaking out, a part of Zhuo Yichen knew it was a long time coming that his primordial form would come to light. He just didn't think it would be in the shape of a fluffy tail and a second pair of ears.

Zhuo Yichen knew people would eventually see it, and what better time than right here, right now, instead of going to great lengths to hide something that cannot be fully hidden? Zhao Yuanzhou said Zhuo Yichen could learn how to repress them, and Yichen just hoped they got alone time soon so he could learn how to. The tail was seriously putting his centre of balance off kilter.

"More speaking and less gawking." Zhao Yuanzhou drawled, giving the guard a kind smile that looked more like a warning than anything. Zhuo Yichen nudged him on the knee, giving him a pointed look.

"Stop trying to scare him. He's new." Zhuo Yichen scolded lightly in a whisper.

Zhao Yuanzhou shrugged animatedly, Wen Xiao beside him rolling her eyes.

"Go on. What did you find?" Wen Xiao asked nicely, bringing the guard's attention back to them.

"R-right!" The guard — Su — stuttered, clearing his throat. "We have found the midwife of the Lin couple. She has confirmed that she helped Mrs. Lin give birth a month prior to her death. And we have found a man that's potentially Miss Mei's lover." He announced in a levelled voice.

"What do you mean potentially?" Pei Sijing asked.

"Pei-daren." Su acknowledged her with a bow, shifting on one knee to face Pei Sijing. Slowly, Su raised his head, his expression a mixture of confusion and concern. "He doesn't seem to remember."

Zhuo Yichen’s brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Su hesitated, his lips pressed together for a moment as he searched for the right words, brows furrowing deeper. Finally, he spoke, his voice slow, as if he was still trying to piece the information together himself. 

"Young Master," he began, his tone tinged with uncertainty. "The young man... he has been seen wandering around Miss Mei’s house, every day, without fail. We have asked him multiple times if he knows her, however, he denies it each time. But still, without exception, he arrives at her house around noon. We have tried to ask the father, but he is still grieving and refuses to speak to anyone."

Ying Lei chuckled nervously. "Could any of the Yan siblings take memories?"

"Yan Lu?" Li Lun questioned, raising a brow at Zhao Yuanzhou.

Zhao Yuanzhou scoffed. There was a note of genuine amusement in his voice, though it was undercut with disdain. "That pretentious brat? I highly doubt it," he said, shaking his head. "It doesn’t seem like his style at all."

Wen Xiao hummed thoughtfully. "So, we have another demon in the mix, then?"

The words hung in the air, a quiet certainty settling over the group.

Zhuo Yichen stood, his robes rustling softly as he rose. The fabric of his clothing shifted around him, an awkward ripple as he adjusted to his movement. His tail — hidden beneath his overcoat— shifted uncomfortably, the heavy weight of it brushing against the fine silk. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. 

"Put them in separate rooms in the annex." Zhuo Yichen ordered.

The guard nodded quickly. "Understood, Zhuo-daren." With a swift bow, he rose to his feet, his movements precise as he turned to leave, disappearing through the door without another word.

"You can bring his memories back, right?" Zhuo Yichen asked, his eyes fixed intently on Zhao Yuanzhou. He watched as the demon leisurely dusted off the fine fabric of his robes, his movements almost languid.

Zhao Yuanzhou looked up with a lazy smile, his eyes glinting with a hint of smugness. “There’s hardly anything I can’t do,” he said, his voice dripping with self-assurance. Zhuo Yichen rolled his eyes in exasperation. Why did he even bother? 

"Great!" Ying Lei's voice rang out. He bounded forward, his steps light and quick as he threw an arm around Pei Sijing and Bai Jiu, pulling them both into a tight hug. “While Zhou-daren and the monkey interrogate the amnesic, and Wen-daren and the tree interrogate the midwife, us three will go check up on the recruits.” His grin was wide, almost mischievous, and it was clear that his plans involved more fun than work.

Bai Jiu’s face drained of colour. His hands shot up in a frantic, almost panicked gesture as he shook his head vehemently. “Nope! Not happening!” His voice was high-pitched, and he immediately hooked his arm around Ying Lei’s, pulling the younger demon’s limb away from his shoulder. “I’ll go with Zhou gege!” 

Li Lun raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Did they mistake you for a girl, again?” 

"One of them even gave him flowers," Pei Sijing added with an effort to suppress her laughter. 

Zhao Yuanzhou sighed dramatically, his face contorted into an exaggerated expression of mock sadness. “Who would have thought we'd be marrying off our little bride soon,” he lamented, his voice rich with playful sorrow, as he pretended to wipe away non-existent tears. “Don’t they grow up so quickly, my love?” He cast a look toward Zhuo Yichen, as if the entire scene were a heart-breaking loss.

Bai Jiu’s eyes flared, a mixture of indignation and embarrassment painting his features. “Who you calling little bride?!” He practically shouted, his voice cracking.

Wen Xiao, ever the one to join in on a teasing opportunity, crossed her arms with an exaggerated sigh. "Looks like little Bai Jiu won’t be with us for much longer," she said in a tone of mock despair, Her gaze flickered toward the younger with a teasing smile, clearly enjoying the spectacle of Bai Jiu's flustered reactions.

“Don’t worry, Xiao Jiu!” Ying Lei laughed. He wrapped an arm around Bai Jiu once more, his hand gently squeezing his shoulder. With a playful stretch of his arm, Ying Lei pointed toward the ceiling, as if imagining the grandest of things to come. His excitement was infectious, and his eyes sparkled with an uncontainable joy. “I’ll cook you the best banquet the entire realm has ever seen.”

"Zhuo ge!" Bai Jiu’s voice pierced the air, high-pitched and panicked. He shoved Ying Lei off and dashed behind Zhuo Yichen, his box of medicine clicking softly against his back with each hurried step. 

His eyes were sharp as he peered out from behind Zhuo Yichen’s figure, finger raised accusatorily toward Zhao Yuanzhou. “I’m telling you right now, I’m not afraid to put demon paralysis power in your drink,” he threatened. He then whipped his finger to Ying Lei, eyes narrowing. “And you better watch what you eat from now on.”

Zhao Yuanzhou raised his hands in mock surrender, the corners of his mouth twitching upward he muttered an apology, though his tone was more amused than apologetic. 

On the other side of the room, Ying Lei burst into laughter, his shoulders shaking with mirth. The others — Pei Sijing, Wen Xiao, and even Li Lun — could barely hide their amused smirks. 

Zhuo Yichen couldn’t help the soft smile that tugged at the corner of his lips, though he quickly hid it behind his usual calm façade. “Alright, alright,” he chimed in, his voice warm with fondness as he reached out to pat Bai Jiu’s head. His fingers brushed against the boy’s hair, the little bell at the end of his braid giving a gentle ting as it rang out. "Stick close to Pei Sijing. The recruits won’t bother you then," he suggested.

Bai Jiu pouted, his lips pressed into a small line as his arms crossed over his chest in mild frustration. “They just wait until she’s distracted,” he muttered bitterly, his voice tinged with irritation. 

Zhuo Yichen shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping him. He crouched down to meet Bai Jiu at eye level. One might have expected the recruits to take him seriously by now, after all the ruckus he’d caused — especially after sending the fifth person on a three-day leave, his method of retaliation involving nothing less than a well-timed dose of laxatives.

Zhuo Yichen had scolded him for that, of course, but the truth was, he knew the real culprit was Zhao Yuanzhou, who had been the one to suggest the idea to Bai Jiu in the first place. The great demon was far too good at encouraging Bai Jiu’s mischief.

“Alright,” he began, leaning in closer to Bai Jiu's ear, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. 

Bai Jiu’s eyes widened, a spark of realization lighting up his face. His lips parted in excitement as a wide, cheek-splitting grin overtook his features. “Why didn’t I think of that?” He exclaimed, his voice full of pure delight. “That’s perfect! Thanks, da-ge!” His hands shot out, grabbing Ying Lei and Pei Sijing by the arms with an enthusiasm that could hardly be contained.

Without missing a beat, he spun around and began to run off. “Come on, we have work to do!” He called back over his shoulder, dragging the two along in his wake.

"Wait, wait, wait! What's the rush—" Ying Lei call after the small boy, but his words were cut off as they disappeared from the room.

Zhuo Yichen smiled, adjusting his sword at his side as he stood up.

Zhao Yuanzhou rose a brow, curious. "You didn't tell him to rigg the equipment, did you?"

Li Lun snorted. "That's something you would suggest." 

"I still remember the laxatives you told him to use." Wen Xiao added with a sigh.

Zhao Yuanzhou shrugged casually, dismissive of the concern. "It was better than Li Lun's offer of murder."

"I don't see how a little threat couldn't have solved everything by now." Li Lun defended, making the rest of them eye him weirdly.

Zhuo Yichen shook his head, sighing heavily. Thank god this guy was on their side now. Zhuo Yichen wasn't sure how they'd deal with him and their new threat at the same time.

"I just told Bai Jiu to cover himself in black peony power." Zhuo Yichen explained casually. "To untrained hunters, it's almost the same scent as low grade plant spirits. It was a common child's prank back in school before the gates of the Wilderness got destroyed. It should keep the new recruits off Bai Jiu's back for a while until they realise."

Zhao Yuanzhou’s laughter echoed with playful delight. He leaned in with a teasing gleam in his eyes, his hand reaching out to gently rub the back of Zhuo Yichen’s pointed ears. “My, my, Xiao Zhuo-daren,” he drawled, his voice smooth and laced with amusement, “that’s not very disciplined of you.” 

Zhuo Yichen's lips curled into a faint smile as he batted Zhao Yuanzhou’s hand away.  “Unfortunately, I’ve been spending too much of my time with a certain demon,” he replied with an exaggerated sigh.

Zhao Yuanzhou hummed thoughtfully, his arm slinging casually over Zhuo Yichen’s shoulders. “Oh?” Zhao Yuanzhou’s voice dropped into a playful lilt, his gaze softening with mock sincerity. “Must be one very lucky demon to have all his time consumed by this beauty,” he said, his words dripping with affection and teasing.

“Get a room,” came Li Lun’s groan as he passed them by, his tone laced with mild exasperation. 

Wen Xiao's voice chimed in, her laughter light and teasing. “I think they’re quite cute,” she chuckled, following Li Lun with a step, her tone playful but not unkind.

Zhao Yuanzhou merely laughed in delight as Zhuo Yichen tried to hide his face in embarrassment.

The flickering candlelight danced in the soft breeze that meandered through the narrow corridors of the bureau. The flames swayed delicately, casting warm pools of yellow and red against the cold, polished surfaces of the braziers and metal fixtures that lined the walls. The lanterns above hung low, their faint creaks barely audible as they swayed in rhythm with the breeze. 

Miss Mei's supposed lover sat at one end of the simple wooden table, his back stiff with nervousness. A steaming cup of tea sat before him, its fragrant tendrils of steam rising lazily toward the low ceiling. He kept his hands wrapped tightly around the porcelain, as though the warmth from the cup might offer him some comfort, though the unease in his posture betrayed his attempts to calm himself. 

Zhuo Yichen didn’t believe the man was a suspect, though his anxiety suggested otherwise. He couldn’t bring himself to throw the man into a full interrogation, not when he was already so visibly strung out. The idea of sitting in a cold cell, under the watchful gaze of two demons, seemed almost cruel. It would break him, no doubt.

Instead, they had chosen this room — small, nondescript, and tucked away in the bureau’s outer annex. The atmosphere here was neither welcoming nor oppressive. It was a space neither comforting nor cold, simply neutral. Zhuo Yichen and Wen Xiao had agreed this was the best option for those who weren't actual suspects.

Zhao Yuanzhou, as always, was the one to break the silence first, his voice ringing with exaggerated politeness. “After you,” he said, his words dripping with mock formality, as if the entire scene were part of some elaborate performance.

Zhuo Yichen couldn’t help but shake his head at the theatrics. With a quiet sigh, Zhuo Yichen walked past his lover, his tail slapping Zhao Yuanzhou in the face as he passed.

Zhao Yuanzhou chuckled as he followed behind.

Miss Mei's lover instantly froze up, eyes darting between them like a panicked deer.

"I-I didn't do anything! I didn't kill h-her!" He spluttered out quickly in a feat of panic.

Zhao Yuanzhou gave Yichen an amused look, raising a brow as he leaned in close. "I think you're scaring him, Xiao Zhuo." He commented casually.

Yeah, right. The man's eyes has been trained on Zhao Yuanzhou since the moment they walked in. "Just go do what you're here for." Zhuo Yichen dismissed him, pushing him towards the man.

"What? What you doing to do?!" The man screamed, scrambling of his chair and backing away.

"I think we should knock him out." Zhao Yuanzhou suggested.

"Zhao Yuanzhou." Zhuo Yichen warned with a pointed look.

"Okay, okay." Zhao Yuanzhou sighed, bringing his fingers to his lips in a seal. "Don't blame me when he starts panicking even more after this."

"Dream."

The man went limp on his knees, eyes instantly closing as he went off into unconsciousness.

“Much better,” Zhao Yuanzhou murmured. Crouching down in front of the man, Zhao Yuanzhou regarded him with an unreadable expression. "Now then," he began, his tone conversational, almost casual, but there was no mistaking the amusement that lined his words. "What is it that someone is so desperate to hide?"

Zhao Yuanzhou raised two fingers to the man's forehead, the tips brushing gently against his skin. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen — but then, a soft shimmer of red demonic energy spiralled from Zhao Yuanzhou’s fingers, curling around the man like a serpent. 

Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the demonic energy began to dissipate, curling into the air like fading smoke. Zhao Yuanzhou pulled his fingers away, standing with an elegant ease, his posture effortless. 

“Wake.”

The man’s eyelids fluttered open, and he blinked several times, dazed as if emerging from a dreamless, soundless sleep. His gaze darted around the room, confused, disoriented — until it landed on Zhao Yuanzhou and Zhuo Yichen. The terror in his eyes was immediate, raw. A shudder rippled through his form, his back pressing against the cold stone wall as though trying to shrink into it.

“What the fuck did you do to me?!” The man’s voice cracked with panic, rising to a shout. His body trembled with fear, his hands shaking as he shoved himself against the wall. “Let me go, or I’ll report you to the officials when I get out! Don’t think I won’t dare!”

Zhao Yuanzhou, unfazed by the outburst, clicked his tongue in disappointment, shaking his head. One arm crossed behind his back, his other hand coming to rest in front of him, poised in that relaxed posture he always seemed to assume. He leaned in just slightly, his voice low and dripping with condescension. “Not even a thank you?” He asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “How rude.”

Then, he tilted his head slightly, his fangs gleaming in the dim light as he leaned just a little closer, giving the man an unsettling look that made him freeze in terror. “We are the officials," Zhao Yuanzhou continued smoothly, his eyes narrowing with dark amusement, "and we’ll be sure to hear your complaints, should you survive to make them.”

Zhuo Yichen rolled his eyes. “Stop being insufferable,” he scolded, though there was no real.

Zhuo Yichen moved with quiet steps toward the man, his soft footfalls barely audible over the faint rustling of his robes. He crouched down before Xu Ling, his eyes focused. His tail flicked nervously behind him, brushing against the cold stone floor. He made a half-hearted attempt to keep it hidden, twisting his body to block its visibility, but it was no use. 

He sighed inwardly but tried to maintain his composure, focusing on the task at hand. “You're in the Demon Hunting Bureau,” Zhuo Yichen said, his voice soft but firm, careful to keep it non-threatening. He wanted to coax information out of the man, not scare him further unlike Zhao Yuanzhou. “We just need to know about Miss Mei. Can you tell us your name?”

Xu Ling glanced at him warily, his eyes darting between Zhuo Yichen’s face and the room around them. His shoulders were hunched, as if bracing for something, and his hands were tightly clenched at his sides. For a moment, it seemed like he might refuse to answer, but then his guard lowered just slightly. His voice, when it came, was tinged with caution. “X-Xu Ling,” he stammered, a brief hesitation before he added, “and I told you, I don’t know anything about—”

But before he could finish, something in his expression shattered. His eyes widened, pupils blown wide with sudden panic, and his entire body seemed to seize with urgency. His hands shot out, desperate, trembling as they gripped the front of Zhuo Yichen’s robes.

“Where is she?! Where is Mei?!” Xu Ling screamed, his voice raw with anguish, his body jerking forward violently as he shook Zhuo Yichen’s robes with frantic, uncoordinated movements. There was a madness to his eyes, a feverish desperation.

Zhuo Yichen, taken aback by the sudden outburst, held his ground. His first instinct was to reassure the man, to try and calm him down — but Xu Ling's frantic hands were making it difficult. “Mr. Xu, you need to calm down,” Zhuo Yichen tried again, his voice still steady but tinged with an underlying sense of helplessness. His hands gently pried at Xu Ling's, trying to free his clothes from the man’s tight grip. 

But Xu Ling wasn’t listening. His eyes were wide, frenzied, and his voice cracked as he repeated the same desperate question, ignoring everything Zhuo Yichen had just said. “Where is she?!” he screamed, as though his life depended on the answer.

Before the situation could spiral further, Zhao Yuanzhou intervened with an almost bored click of his tongue, his face betraying none of the concern that had just appeared in Zhuo Yichen’s. He shoved Xu Ling back against the stone wall, effortlessly pinning him there as he let out a long, exaggerated sigh.

“This is so bothersome,” Zhao Yuanzhou muttered, clearly unimpressed by the man's emotional outburst. He brought two fingers to his lips, his eyes narrowing as he prepared to calm the situation in his own way.

“Calm.”

The effect was instantaneous. Xu Ling’s body seemed to deflate, his muscles loosening as though the tension in him had simply evaporated. His eyes, however, were still wide, still filled with that same frantic desperation, even as his body fell slack against the wall. His lips trembled, and he barely seemed aware of the world around him, his thoughts clearly consumed by whatever memories had been unlocked.

Zhuo Yichen couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for Xu Ling. The man had been through so much already, thrust back into a reality where the woman he loved had been taken from him without warning. His memories had returned, but they had only come with pain and confusion. It wasn’t just his mind that was fractured, but his soul, too. Zhuo Yichen could see it in his eyes, could feel it in the air between them.

Zhuo Yichen sighed quietly, his heart heavy. He couldn’t blame Xu Ling for his outburst, for the way his mind was racing, even if it made the interrogation more difficult. Getting memories back of a lover thought lost, only to discover that lover had died — he couldn’t imagine how much it must be tearing him apart. And still, the job had to be done.

"I'm fine." Zhuo Yichen said softly, patting Zhao Yuanzhou's arm. "You can let him go."

Zhao Yuanzhou gave the man a pointed look before getting up. "Are we ready to talk now?" He asked, pulling out the seat Xu Ling was previously sat on.

Zhuo Yichen helped the man up, getting him seated before he grabbed another chair and sat across from him. "Miss Mei has been murdered." He said, not wanting to cut around the bush. "We found her corpse in her home."

Devastated. That was the only word that could even begin to describe the expression that twisted Xu Ling’s face as he stared at Zhuo Yichen. The raw agony in his eyes was palpable, as if every shred of hope had been ripped away in an instant. His body trembled, as though trying to hold itself together, but the weight of what he was hearing was too much.

A laugh, low and haunting, escaped from Xu Ling’s lips — a sound so broken, so filled with disbelief, that it barely sounded like a laugh at all. It was the kind of laugh that carried a sharp edge, one that seemed to break apart with every breath. “That’s impossible. That’s impossible,” he whispered, shaking his head as if the words themselves could somehow undo the truth he was being confronted with.

Tears streamed down his face, falling like rivers that could never be stopped. His hands shot out, grasping hold of Zhuo Yichen’s with desperate urgency. His fingers closed around Zhuo Yichen’s hands with such force that it almost hurt. “Please… you have to be lying,” Xu Ling begged, his voice strained, hoarse with panic. “There’s no way she died. She— she can’t be gone.”

Zhuo Yichen’s heart clenched painfully in his chest, a familiar ache twisting deep inside him. His throat tightened, his mouth going dry. This part had never gotten any easier, no matter how many years had passed, no matter how many faces like Xu Ling’s he had seen. He had seen this agony so many times before — this raw, vulnerable grief that tore at a person’s very soul.

The disbelief in their eyes, the horror of realizing that something so precious had been lost forever — it was always the same. The trembling hands, the hollowed-out stares, the tight grip they would always hold on to him, clinging desperately to some semblance of a truth they refused to accept. It was as if their reality was unravelling before them, and Zhuo Yichen was the one who had to hold the pieces together, no matter how much it hurt him too.

The weight of the moment pressed down on him, and Zhuo Yichen’s breath caught. He could still feel their hands, their desperate grasp, even after all these years. Sometimes, when he looked in the mirror, he could see their faces again, still haunting him with their grief.

“I’m sorry,” Zhuo Yichen whispered, his voice quiet, almost hollow. The words slipped out before he even had the chance to stop them, mechanical and automatic, as if he had said them a thousand times before and knew there was nothing else to say. He wished there was something more — something that could undo the pain, something that could take away that devastation from Xu Ling’s eyes. But there wasn’t.

"The baby. Our baby?" Xu Ling tired, still desperate as he tried to hold onto some hope. "Did the baby at least survive?"

Zhuo Yichen could do nothing but shake his head.

Xu Ling let go of his hands, his arms falling into his lap helpless as he head fell between his shoulders. Zhuo Yichen looked up at his lover, but Zhao Yuanzhou could only give him a sad smile in reassurance.

"We were going to get married." Xu Ling spoke, voice broken with a sob. "I was trying to save up so she could have the best wedding before our child was born." He laughed, wiping away the tears with his hand quickly.

"We want to find out who did this." Zhuo Yichen said, voice firm and full of promise. "No one in town seems to remember you or think anything is out of the ordinary. And you couldn't remember Miss Mei either. Do you remember coming across any demons that could have wiped your memories?"

Xu Ling shook his head vehemently, his fingers clutching at his knees. "No, no, nothing at all. Mei was always helping her father, and I was always at work—" He stopped abruptly, his body going rigid. His eyes widened as a flicker of recognition ignited in their depths. "That woman. It was that woman."

Zhao Yuanzhou stepped closer, his sharp eyes narrowing. "Who?"

"I don’t know her name," Xu Ling said, his words tumbling out in a rush. "She said she was a traveller. Mei... Mei gave her a place to stay. I remember, because I’d caught a flu around that time. The woman offered me medicine. After that..." He paused, his hands trembling as he clutched at the fabric of his sleeves. His voice dropped, shaking. "After that, I don’t remember anything. Nothing."

Zhuo Yichen leaned forward, his fox ears twitching ever so slightly as he softened his tone. "Do you remember what she looked like? Anything at all?" His tail curled unconsciously behind him.

Xu Ling pinched his brows together. He gritted his teeth, his frustration palpable. "She was... beautiful. Mei wouldn’t stop complimenting her. Especially her hair. It was white."

Zhao Yuanzhou huffed, crossing his arms. "White hair? I could name you a hundred demons with white hair. Any specific? Tattoos, strange way of speaking?" His tone was sardonic, though not entirely impatient.

Xu Ling’s face contorted as he tried to dig deeper into his scattered memories. "Her skin," he murmured, tilting his head as though staring at something far away. "Her skin was... strange. It almost shined. Not like it was glowing, but there was this... texture. Mei said it felt rough. I’m not sure." He shook his head, his frustration mounting. "I can hardly remember her. It’s like she was there, and then she wasn’t."

"Do you remember her saying anything about where she was from?" Zhuo Yichen asked.

Xu Ling shook his head, defeated as he looked back down at his lap again. "No. Not a thing."

Zhuo Yichen studied Xu Ling for a moment longer, his eyes softening as he sighed quietly. He doubted there was anything more to be gleaned from the man. Had it not been for Zhao Yuanzhou's one-word spell, Zhuo Yichen was certain the man would’ve been screaming and thrashing by now.

Stepping away, Zhuo Yichen approached Zhao Yuanzhou, his robes swaying gently with his movements, his tail trailing behind him in a soft sweep. Zhao Yuanzhou was already watching him, leaning casually against the table with a glint of amusement in his crimson eyes.

"Shiny and rough?" Zhao Yuanzhou mused aloud, his lips curling into that familiar smirk. "Sounds like scales to me." 

Zhuo Yichen raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. "You’ve narrowed down your hundred already?"

Zhao Yuanzhou chuckled, his fangs glinting faintly in the dim candlelight. "White hair, a woman, steals memories, and has scales?" He raised four fingers, holding them up one at a time as he counted the traits aloud. "There’s only one."

His tail flicked once in a restrained show of curiosity. "Who?"

Zhao Yuanzhou's smile deepened as he leaned in close. His lips hovered just above Zhuo Yichen's pointed ears, making them twitch involuntarily.

"Bai Suzhen."

Meanwhile in the other room, Wen Xiao and Li Lun had been making a fair amount of progress.

"White hair, you say?" Wen Xiao repeated, just to clarify.

Madam Tang nodded, her eyes still wary as she glanced at Li Lun.

"And how long did she stay with the couple?" Li Lun spoke up, pouring himself another cup of tea. Wen Xiao wanted to make a comment how the tea wasn't for him, but Madam Tang didn't seem like she was going to drink any anytime soon. Better than letting it go to waste, she supposes.

"One... maybe two days at most." Madam Tang answered. "I left town a week after the baby was born because I got news my daughter-in-law was going into labour, and I needed to be there as soon as possible. I only saw the woman for the last two days when I visited during the day."

"And there was nothing out of the ordinary?" Wen Xiao asked, noting down everything Madam Tang was stating in her note book. She just hoped Zhuo Yichen and Zhao Yuanzhou were getting clues on the same "white haired woman" that was being described, or else this case would get even more convoluted than it needed to be.

Still, a flicker of curiosity stirred in her chest, an unshakable sense of intrigue. Wen Xiao was the Goddess of the Wilderness, and the existence of demons she had yet to encounter always brought with it an odd mix of unease and excitement. 

"Her skin..." Madam Tang murmured, her voice faltering as she searched her memory. "It shone in the sunlight. It was strange." She tilted her head, her gaze distant. "It was almost... scale-like."

Wen Xiao’s quill paused mid-stroke. Scales? She narrowed her eyes slightly, the possibilities spinning in her mind. A fish demon? 

Li Lun, who had been silently observing with his ever-casual air, curved his lips into a knowing smile. “Bai Suzhen,” he breathed out, the name slipping from his lips like a soft exhalation.

Wen Xiao’s gaze snapped to him, confusion flickering across her face. "Bai Suzhen?" She echoed, her voice tinged with disbelief. “As in Lady Bai?"

Li Lun gave a nod but didn’t elaborate further. He instead leaned in closer to Madam Tang. “Did she mention where she was from?” He asked.

Madam Tang hesitated, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. “S-she said she lives with her husband,” she stammered, her voice trembling slightly under Li Lun’s intense gaze. She cleared her throat, straightening her posture as if to regain her composure. “In a village on the mountains in the East.”

Li Lun leaned back in his chair, the sharp glint in his eyes softening as he reached for his teacup. He gulped down the lukewarm tea in one swift motion, then flashed a smile at Wen Xiao. 

“Looks like we know where we’re headed next.”

The chill in the mountain air was biting, sharper and far more unforgiving than the mild breeze below. They had relied on Ying Lei’s teleportation device to bring them to the outskirts of a town that Zhao Yuanzhou and Li Lun were confident housed Bai Suzhen. Zhuo Yichen, however, couldn't shake the scepticism gnawing at him. Zhuo Yichen had merely heard myths about Lady Bai — the White Snake Demon. And no myth had anything remotely to do with her kidnapping new-borns.

Yet, there was an oppressive weight to the air, one that prickled at Zhuo Yichen’s senses. It wasn't fear, exactly, but something unsettling lingered, brushing the edges of his awareness. His fox ears twitched, flattened tightly against his head to avoid unnecessary attention. His tail, though concealed as best as he could manage beneath the folds of the winter cloak, stubbornly shifted every now and then, making the effort almost futile.

As the group strode along the dirt path into the heart of the town, Zhuo Yichen braced himself for suspicious glances or whispered murmurs. But to his surprise, the townsfolk greeted them with warm smiles and friendly waves, as if they were expected, or perhaps as if demons were not so uncommon here. Children skipped along the paths, a few pointing and giggling at Bai Jiu, who looked particularly flustered, hiding behind Yichen. 

They opted to sit in a tavern for lunch, seeing if they could gather some basic intel before scouting the area, drawn in by the warm glow spilling from its windows and the smell of hearty meals wafting through the air. Bai Jiu, whose stomach had been audibly growling the entire journey, practically sprinted inside as soon as they reached the door.

The interior of the tavern was cosy, the kind of place that invited travellers to linger longer than they intended. Wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling, adorned with lanterns that swayed gently with the draft. Their flickering flames cast soft, dancing shadows across walls decorated with vibrant paintings and intricate embroidery. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, spiced broths, and freshly baked bread, and the low hum of conversation provided a sense of normalcy that almost made Zhuo Yichen forget their mission — almost.

"You guys travelling?" One of the serves asked as he wrote down their order.

"Going to visit a friend on the other side." Wen Xiao lied smoothly, flashing a smile.

"I see," he hummed. "There was a landslide a while a go, so you might want to be careful."

A look passed between them before Ying Lei cleared his throat. "Does it happen a lot? I hear many demons live up in the mountains."

"The mountain clearing at the top has always been unstable. It was only a matter of time before something happened. We just happen to get lucky around here," he chuckled, his tone light despite the unsettling implication. His gaze drifted to Zhuo Yichen's fox ears and tail, which had slipped slightly out of the folds of his cloak. Instead of alarm or suspicion, the man smiled warmly. "Demons pass through here often, but they’ve never caused us trouble."

Zhuo Yichen raised a brow at the remark, his tail flicking in a subtle show of unease, though he didn’t comment.

Bai Jiu nodded thoughtfully. "Explains why no one’s batted an eye at Zhuo-ge," he said, his tone matter-of-fact as he tapped his chopsticks on the table. He shot a look at Ying Lei, whose expression immediately soured as he gestured between himself, Zhao Yuanzhou, and Li Lun as if to say, and what about the rest of us?

"In fact—" 

"Hey, Ming! Another glass of water over here!"

"Coming right up!" The waiter, apparently Ming, shouted back cheerfully. He gave their table one last glance, double-checking their order, and then smiled again. "Your food will be here in a bit," he promised, bowing slightly before hurrying off to tend to the other customer.

Silent fell over table, only the cracking of a jade pendant in Zhao Yuanzhou's hand resonated in the air.

"So," Zhao Yuanzhou began, voice amused, dropping the jade pieces into his wooden gourde, "who wants to calculate the chances of this town only encountering friendly demons?"

"Impossible." Pei Sijing responded. "While I was still with the Chongwu Camp, we've been sent on many missions to the mountains. No town or village has been this safe." She looked around, the locals not even batting an eye in their direction. "Or this friendly."

"And not being impacted by any of the landslides?" Ying Lei shook his head. "Impossible. The location of this town is begging to be hit by one."

"You're not saying that Lady Bai is protecting them?" Wen Xiao questioned.

"Someone is." Li Lun mused. "And it's most definitely a demon."

"We'll split up after we eat. Wen Xiao and Zhao Yuanzhou can go near the mountain pass to see if the Baize Token can pick up anything unusual." Zhuo Yichen said, bringing his tail up to lay across his lap instead.

Before he could finish his thought, Zhao Yuanzhou let out a theatrical gasp, placing a hand dramatically over his chest as if Zhuo Yichen’s words had struck a mortal blow. “How cruel, Xiao Zhuo,” he lamented, leaning into Zhuo Yichen’s personal space with a grin that practically screamed mischief. “I thought we could go on our own little date.”

Zhuo Yichen sighed heavily, refusing to even glance in Zhao Yuanzhou’s direction, though his ears betrayed him by twitching ever so slightly in irritation — or perhaps amusement.

Wen Xiao, watching the exchange with a knowing smile, rested her chin on her hand, tilting her head toward Zhao Yuanzhou. “Already bored of me, great demon?” She teased, her tone laced with playful flirtation. “And here I thought we were growing rather close.”

Zhao Yuanzhou straightened up and laughed, playing along effortlessly. “Never, my Goddess,” He declared with mock reverence. “It’s just been so long since I’ve had an outing with my dear Xiao Zhuo, you see.”

Li Lun let out an audible groan, rolling his eyes as if to say, Here we go again. Ying Lei and Pei Sijing avoided making eye contact entirely, while Bai Jiu, sipped his water with such intense focus it was clear he wanted no part in the conversation.

Zhuo Yichen finally turned toward Zhao Yuanzhou, his expression a mix of exasperation and thinly veiled tolerance. He shoved Zhao Yuanzhou away with a hand against his shoulder, the great demon’s laugh only growing louder. “I’m here to work, not indulge you in your stupid escapades,” Zhuo Yichen said sharply, though his tone lacked any real bite. “At least pretend you’re serious for once.”

“Fine, fine,” Zhao Yuanzhou replied, raising his hands in mock surrender, though the grin on his face didn’t fade in the slightest. He turned toward Wen Xiao, lifting his wooden gourd in a playful toast. “I guess I’ll have my date with someone else, then.”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Wen Xiao responded with mock surprise, making the others snicker at the playful banter.

Zhuo Yichen, however, clenched his hand around the hilt of his sword, pretending to adjust it against the edge of the table. “Ridiculous…” he muttered under his breath, so low that none of them could hear. 

He ignored the soft smile on Wen Xiao's face and Zhao Yuanzhou's laughter, turning his attention toward the window, hoping for a distraction, and found one in the form of two children chasing after a small cat just outside. 

When he turned back, Li Lun was giving him a weird look, but the food appeared before Zhuo Yichen could ask him about it.

The plan had been simple enough: split up and cover as much ground as possible. As agreed, Wen Xiao and Zhao Yuanzhou had vanished toward the foot of the mountain, their banter trailing off like fading echoes in the brisk mountain air. Ying Lei had, not so subtly, dragged a protesting Bai Jiu along with him, the boy’s indignant cries about wanting to stay with Zhuo Yichen drawing amused looks from passers-by. Pei Sijing followed them with a shake of her head, her lips quirking in quiet amusement.

And that left Zhuo Yichen walking alongside Li Lun.

The silence between them was... manageable, but peculiar. They weren’t strangers anymore, but they weren’t exactly close either. The last time they’d been alone, Li Lun had tried to kill him. The memory felt surreal now, especially when Zhuo Yichen glanced at the demon beside him — tall and commanding in his black robes, with an air of quiet intensity that never seemed to waver.

What a strange world this is, Zhuo Yichen thought to himself. One moment, they were enemies locked in a battle that could’ve ended either of them. The next, they were working together, solving cases side by side. 

The two moved through the town in relative quiet, only pausing now and then to separate and speak with the locals. Each time they reunited, they would exchange their findings in brief, efficient conversations before continuing on their way. It wasn’t awkward per se, but it wasn’t particularly comfortable either. There was a formality to it, like two soldiers respecting a truce they both knew could be broken at any time.

Zhuo Yichen couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at the back of his mind. Something about the town didn’t sit right with him. It wasn’t anything overt — just a feeling, a weight in the air that he couldn’t quite name. The townsfolk, for all their smiles and friendliness, seemed rehearsed in their answers. Every person he spoke to repeated the same lines, as though they’d been practicing them for years.

"They say we’re lucky, never hit by a landslide," one older man had said, his hands worn and calloused from a lifetime of hard work. "The demons that pass through here? Friendly folk, all of them. Never a lick of trouble."

Another woman, younger but equally eager to share, echoed the same sentiment. "We don’t get bad ones here. All kinds of demons stop by — mud spirits, hummingbirds, even the occasional wolf. But never a snake, no."

By the time Zhuo Yichen and Li Lun met back up for the fourth or fifth time, their findings had become redundant. Mud spirits, hummingbirds, wolf. Nothing remotely connected to a woman with white hair or scale-like skin.

Zhuo Yichen’s frustration was growing, though he kept it tightly controlled. His tail twitched beneath his cloak, betraying the agitation he was trying to mask. “Anything new?” he asked, glancing at Li Lun.

“Nothing,” Li Lun replied, his voice steady, though there was a faint edge to it. He rolled his shoulders back, as though trying to release some tension. “Same story. Lucky town, friendly demons. No snakes. No woman with white hair.”

“Figures,” Zhuo Yichen muttered, exhaling a slow breath. His hand drifted toward the hilt of his sword, fingers brushing the polished surface absentmindedly. He scanned the dirt road ahead, where a group of children played with a small wooden ball, their laughter ringing out like wind chimes.

"It's like we have a guardian." The tenth person they asked said. "The heavens are protecting us."

"I think they've all lost their minds." Li Lun scoffed as they walked away, unsuccessful yet again.

Zhuo Yichen sighed as his ears flicked side to side, the subtle movement catching every whisper of sound. His new fox features came with certain perks, and heightened hearing was one of them. Though he couldn’t hear everything, muffled snippets of conversations from behind closed doors were just within reach if he focused. Fragments of sentences, hurried whispers, and faint murmurs drifted to his ears, none of them loud enough to make sense of — but enough to deepen his unease.

“Do you notice it as well?” Zhuo Yichen asked, his eyes scanning the village. His tail twitched under his winter cloak, drawing the attention of a small group of children who giggled and whispered excitedly as they walked passed.

Li Lun’s voice broke through his thoughts, low and amused. “You mean the fact that there isn’t a single baby in this town?” He arched a brow, his tone carrying the faintest hint of mockery. “Bai Suzhen never gave me the impression of being a babynapper.” 

“That’s not a word,” Zhuo Yichen said, shaking his head with a faint smile. “What is she like, then?”

“I’ve never met her personally,” Li Lun admitted, his steps steady as they passed a cluster of houses with painted wooden doors. “But from what all demons say, she’s kind. Incredibly beautiful. Unforgiving of injustice.” A small, almost wistful smile played on his lips. “And most of all, she loves her husband. Fiercely.”

Zhuo Yichen blinked, surprised. “She has a husband?”

Li Lun nodded, his gaze sweeping across the dirt road ahead. “Yes. A human, no less. The stories about her devotion to him are legendary. She gave up a lot to be with him.” Li Lun’s gaze suddenly shifted to him, sharp and appraising. 

“I wonder,” Li Lun began, his voice laced with curiosity as his eyes trailed over Zhuo Yichen, “what it is about you humans that makes these great demons fall so hopelessly in love.”

The statement caught Zhuo Yichen off guard, and he scoffed, rolling his eyes as a flicker of offense crossed his face. “And I wonder what it is about you great demons that makes you incapable of keeping your thoughts to yourself.”

Li Lun let out a soft snort, amusement lighting his features.

They were almost back at the tavern, the meeting spot where everyone had agreed to regroup. The air was crisp, the evening drawing closer, and the dimming sunlight cast a soft glow over the cobbled streets. Just before they reached the familiar, warm glow of the tavern’s entrance, Zhuo Yichen's fox ears caught a sound that made his attention snap upward. The unmistakable laughter of Wen Xiao rang out, light and airy.

Zhuo Yichen’s eyes narrowed, and his gaze traveled to the small distance ahead. In the soft amber light, he could see them — Wen Xiao and Zhao Yuanzhou already at the meeting spot.

Zhuo Yichen didn’t need to catch the words of their conversation to know what was going on. They were mock-flirting again, a strange little game they’d played from the very beginning of Zhao Yuanzhou’s arrival. It had become a familiar, almost routine spectacle, though one Zhuo Yichen never quite understood. Wen Xiao’s hand rested casually on Zhao Yuanzhou’s forearm as she laughed again, the sound bubbling from her lips with ease.

He had grown accustomed to it over the years, this odd dynamic between them. And though Zhuo Yichen didn’t comprehend the full depth of their strange inside joke, he had learned to ignore it.

Zhuo Yichen abruptly turned on his heel, his boots clicking decisively against the cobblestones as he began walking away from the tavern.

"Let’s make another round," he said without looking back. "We haven’t checked that side yet."

Li Lun, still a few steps behind, furrowed his brow in confusion and glanced at Zhuo Yichen’s retreating figure. "Zhuo-daren, that’s where we just came from," he mused aloud.

Zhuo Yichen didn't response, just kept walking further from the meeting point until Wen Xiao's laughter didn't reach his ears anymore.

The silence stretched between them for a moment before Li Lun finally spoke up again, his voice cutting through the stillness. "You do that a lot, you know?"

Zhuo Yichen’s pace didn’t falter, but his grip on his sword tightened ever so slightly, his knuckles pale. He didn’t look at the tree spirit as he responded, though his curiosity piqued. "Do what?"

"Avoid them when they’re together," Li Lun replied casually, his tone as if it were an everyday observation. 

Zhuo Yichen’s steps slowed imperceptibly, his mind whirling for a moment as he tried to steady himself. The words hit closer than he would’ve liked. He almost halted in his tracks, but he forced himself to keep moving. His lips curved into a tight smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "No, I don’t."

Li Lun let out a soft, dismissive snort. It was clear he wasn’t buying it. "I haven’t been here long, but I notice things more than most," he said, his voice carrying an air of quiet confidence, as if he were stating the obvious.

And before he could form a response, Li Lun leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice in a manner that felt oddly conspiratorial. "Even the other day, when you and Wen Xiao disguised yourselves as dancers. You didn’t like Zhao Yuanzhou complimenting her, but you let it happen anyway." A sly smile tugged at the corners of Li Lun’s lips. He raised a single brow, his gaze now more curious than ever. "Are you jealous?"

Now, that made Zhuo Yichen stop dead in his tracks. His gaze snapped to the demon, an incredulous expression overtaking his face. "Jealous? Jealous of who?" He motioned loosely in the direction of Zhao Yuanzhou and Wen Xiao. "Them?" His voice trailed off into a chuckle, almost as if he found the idea utterly absurd. "Don’t be absurd."

But Li Lun wasn’t deterred. His eyes twinkled with an amused glint, but his smile softened into something more thoughtful, the humour edging into something else. "What’s absurd, Zhuo Yichen, is you never batting an eye when those two flirt." His tone was light, but there was an unmistakable note of confusion beneath the words. "I thought humans hated it when their partners flirted with other people."

This time, Zhuo Yichen couldn’t help but laugh. "I'll admit, there was a time I thought Wen Xiao and Zhao Yuanzhou liked each other," he said, his voice tinged with a rueful amusement, remembering those days of agonising over his feelings of unrequited love only for them not to unrequited. "But they’re friends. Mock-flirting is their... thing." He rolled his eyes as if the whole idea were the most obvious thing in the world.

Li Lun raised a brow. "I don’t think I understand."

Zhuo Yichen chuckled again, the sound lighter now. "Yeah, me neither," he admitted.

The silence stretched for a beat before Li Lun asked the question again, his voice quiet but persistent. "Then why do you avoid them?"

Zhuo Yichen’s pace faltered, and he felt a weight settle on his shoulders, heavier than the sword in his hands. He let out a long, exasperated sigh, one that seemed to come from deep within him. "I’m not avoiding them," he said, his tone firm. He wanted to believe it. He needed to. "It’s just..." He trailed off, struggling to find the right words, words that would make sense to both Li Lun and, more importantly, to himself.

His gaze drifted out toward the horizon, where the sun was starting to sink below the trees, casting the sky in hues of pink and gold, as if the world itself were winding down for the night. Zhuo Yichen stared at the fading light before he shook his head, a quiet, bitter laugh escaping his lips. "It’s nothing," he muttered, his voice flat. "Let’s head back, it’s getting late."

Li Lun wasn't convinced, but Zhuo Yichen was just glad he didn't ask anymore questions.

"I'm rooming with Zhuo gege!" Bai Jiu's voice rang out, already attaching himself to Zhuo Yichen’s arm.

"Me too!" Ying Lei's arm shot up into the air. He sprinted over, a flash of movement as he reached out to snag the other side of Zhuo Yichen’s arm, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Zhuo Yichen glanced between the two, opening his mouth to speak. But before he could get a word out, Bai Jiu, still clinging to his arm, shot him a stern look.

"You’re meant to be rooming with Zhao gege and Li gege," Bai Jiu scolded, pointing a finger at Ying Lei. "You can’t change that."

Ying Lei, smoothly pushed away Bai Jiu’s finger. He smirked, a playful gleam in his eyes. "You can’t have Zhuo-daren all to yourself all the time." 

Zhuo Yichen sighed in resignation, trying once more to intervene. "Guys—"

But before he could finish, Zhao Yuanzhou shoved Ying Lei aside, pulling Zhuo Yichen firmly to his side. "He’s sleeping with me," Zhao Yuanzhou said with a smile. "You can have your sleepover another time."

"Hey, that’s not fair!" Bai Jiu protested loudly, pouting as he glared at the demon. "You’re always with him!"

"Not cool, great demon, not cool." Ying Lei tutted in disappointment. 

"Zhao Yuanzhou—" Zhuo Yichen tried again, his voice tinged with annoyance, but before he could finish, Li Lun stepped in.

With a quick, almost effortless motion, Li Lun grabbed Zhao Yuanzhou by the collar, pulling him back just enough to free Zhuo Yichen from the demon’s grasp. The demon glared at him in response, but Li Lun was unfazed. He gave his friend an unimpressed look, as if this whole exchange were beneath him. Wen Xiao and Pei Sijing stood off to the side, watching the drama unfold with undisguised amusement, their laughter soft but genuine.

"You’re on a mission, not your honeymoon," Li Lun said dryly.

Zhuo Yichen, who had been rubbing his temple in frustration, let out a long sigh, his patience wearing thin. 

"Ying Lei, Bai Jiu, there’s only two beds," he said with finality, his voice firm as he turned to face the two bickering younger ones. "So go make the third one on the floor." His words left no room for argument, but his tone softened just enough to keep it light.

Bai Jiu threw his hands up in victory. "I’ll make all three beds on the floor!" He announced with boundless enthusiasm, already running off toward the corner with his medicine box clicking and clacking on his back.

"I’ll go help!" Ying Lei shouted, racing after him.

Zhuo Yichen watched them go with an exasperated sigh, but before he could collect himself, Zhao Yuanzhou tried once more. "Xiao Zhuo—"

However, before he could finish, Li Lun had already grabbed him by the collar again, this time pulling him away with a grumble of frustration.

"One day from your wife isn’t going to kill you, stupid monkey," Li Lun muttered, his tone dry as he dragged the great demon away. "Come on."

"Must be tough being so popular, my dear Xiao Zhuo," Wen Xiao laughed, her voice light and teasing, never missing an opportunity to poke fun at Zhuo Yichen. Her eyes twinkled with amusement as she watched the chaos unfold.

Zhuo Yichen, feeling the weight of his growing headache, only sighed in return.

He could only hope the rest of the trip would go as smoothly.