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“I’m thinking of planting some fruit trees.”
Song Yao was leaning against Hengwen’s shoulder, on a finely carved bed in a small house on the Far East Island. It was situated close enough to the sea that Hengwen could hear, even with the windows closed, the constant sweep of ocean waves, which no longer sounded lonely now that Song Yao was here with him. They had not parted since he’d arrived and wrapped an arm around Hengwen’s shoulders.
They had not left this bed for five days.
“Mm,” Hengwen agreed, indifferent to the type of fruit. They were all too sweet for his taste, but it had been boring these past months without Song Yao to talk to. Just now, any subject was fine. “That sounds good. Perhaps a pomegranate.”
“Do you eat pomegranates?” Song Yao asked, his voice rising with surprise.
“I would if you raised one.”
“Then I’ll ask Donghua Dijun if he’ll send over a few saplings. He’ll know where to find good ones.”
“Ask him to send some good wine as well,” Hengwen said. Between the two of them, they would quickly drain the few jars he’d brought. Feeling Song Yao’s heart beating against his palm, he asked, “Will fruit trees grow here? The land is quite rocky, so many boulders, and there are the existing trees as well.”
“An earth deity can pull those up. Wind might be a problem, but the air is clean, the soil rich, and we should get plenty of rain. If the wind is too strong, we can always construct some sort of barrier.”
“I didn’t realize you knew so much about orchards,” Hengwen said.
“Don’t forget, I had to water the Queen Mother’s peach immortality garden for half a year. I learned a lot of things.” Song Yao paused for a breath, then added, “Hengwen, do you think she’d gift us a tree?”
“It’s possible, once she hears you’re raising some.”
Hengwen closed his eyes and let his head rest against Song Yao’s. How interesting that, despite being friends for thousands of years, they did not know everything there was to know about each other.
When the Jade Emperor had given his merciful decree and ordered their banishment, Hengwen had taken the punishment in stride and packed the contents of his Weiyuan Palace. Without the work of a literary god to pass the time, he’d occupied himself with preparing their new house for Song Yao’s arrival on the island: airing out the quilt, fluffing the mattress until it was like a cloud to lie upon, plucking excess filling from the pillow until it was the height he liked. Song Yao would not mind; he’d always deferred to him on that point.
So much between them remained undone—things that an immortal like Hengwen had never realized could be done. The two times they’d lain together in the mortal realm had set alight his hunger for physical sensations, and he’d spent a good number of hours (because what else had there been to do but wait?) sitting at the cockroach’s side in diligent study of the intimate acts they’d do together once Song Yao had a human body again.
Despite Bihua Lingjun’s complaints about their appearances, Henwen had quite adored each of Song Yao’s reincarnations—that very first one, the roach, above the rest for all the hope it had afforded. But he’d looked forward to the reunion of their immortal forms. He could’ve passed the time in the comfort of their new island. With the time difference between the heavenly and mortal realms, the early reincarnations would have taken only days, but Hengwen had been unwilling to bear the separation and secretly gone to be at his side.
Even without the handsome face Song Yao had worn the whole of their acquaintance, Hengwen had known him in an instant, whether that face had antennae or feathers or a boar’s whiskers. He’d foolishly hoped that with his tender care, an affinity knot of their own might form. One hadn’t, of course, but it was enough that the other had finally, totally broken.
Hengwen had not been so presumptuous as to think of Song Yao as his. He’d lived in the heavens since his creation and did not question its laws. Even with his unparalleled knowledge of human literature, he had never considered mortal love for himself until he heard Song Yao speak on the topic.
With time, a thread of jealousy had wound itself around Hengwen’s heart, so fine that he had dismissed its first stings as the effect of some plum wine Bihua had insisted they all drink, of a stray sunbeam irritating his eye just as Song Yao gazed at a palace maid. Song Yao wasn’t devoted to anyone else, so what had there been to worry about? Then Song Yao had been sent to set up love trials, leaving Hengwen to watch him embrace someone else, and jealousy choked his heart.
Those precious nights together in the mortal realm, a mere flash in Hengwen’s unbounded lifespan, had been on his mind ever since: the sensation of Song Yao’s weight on him, the desperate sounds from his mouth and pressure of his fingers guiding Hengwen’s waist, the unexpected sweetness in seeing their physical forms joined. Song Yao had not been his, not really, but with impending death looming over him, for once he had not stopped.
And now that Song Yao was his in every way that mattered, Hengwen could not get enough!
“I wonder,” he said through a yawn, catching sight of a craggy branch that blocked some of the sunlight through the window. “Is it possible to be intimate in a tree?”
“Anything is possible with enough practice,” Song Yao said with his usual confidence and yawned as well. He needed to sleep, but Hengwen wanted to be selfish for a while longer. He touched the bare spot on Song Yao’s little finger.
“Should we try it in one of the trees outside?”
“You want to do it again?” Song Yao asked, turning widened, dark eyes up at him. “Aren’t you exhausted?”
“I like it,” Hengwen said and smiled. “We’re already banished, so what’s the harm in it?”
Song Yao’s long black hair was mussed from rolling around on the bed all day and all night, and looked so appealing that Hengwen felt compelled to thrust his hand into it. He leaned in to taste his mouth. His fingers curved to fit the shape of Song Yao’s skull and Hengwen sealed their lips.
With a noise somewhere between pleasure and defeat, Song Yao rubbed his groin against Hengwen’s thigh.
“If we do it too much, I’m afraid certain things might fall off,” he said.
“Then let me do it for a while,” Hengwen offered.
When Song Yao hesitated, going still against him, he added, “Is that all right?”
Meeting his eyes, Song Yao swallowed. Hengwen thrilled at the bob of his throat.
“If that’s what Hengwen wants, then this Immortal Lord agrees. Do you know how it’s done?”
“Isn’t it what you’ve been doing to me?” Hengwen asked with a scowl. “I studied while you were away. Even without your example, I’m sure I could manage it.”
A warm breeze blew in through the open window from the direction of the sea, stirring the curtains around the bed. Song Yao’s expression grew complicated.
“Hengwen,” he said slowly, “exactly how many of those erotic books did you read?”
“A fair number, as many as I could find. I’m at a disadvantage compared to you, after all. I followed your advice and sought out the better illustrated ones. You were right about them being far more interesting.” Beneath the blankets, Hengwen dragged his foot up Song Yao’s calf in the way he’d learned he liked yesterday. “Are you disappointed in me for reading them?”
Song Yao’s eyes widened, going soft and a little red around the edges. He shook his head.
“It's not that. You were born in the heavenly realm so you wouldn’t understand, but I’ve had to conceal my feelings for you all this time—since the very first moment I saw you. I accepted thousands of years ago that there could be nothing between us, nothing like this. Now that it’s allowed, hearing you talk so openly about certain things, I keep wondering when I’ll wake up.”
Hengwen shifted so that his lips were close to Song Yao’s ear, and he spoke in a low voice: “If you remember, I said I’d also been thinking about you for those thousands of years.”
He twined their fingers together and gripped tightly, as tight as a dead knot.
“I thought that was a dream at the time,” Song Yao admitted. “You, the peach forest.”
“I know,” Hengwen said casually and let out a breath as the memory formed of Song Yao beneath the pink blossoms. “I’d intended to give us both some relief from what Tianshu and Nanming were up to, but when you kissed me so easily, I realized you thought it was a dream and was too happy to stop you.”
Hengwen sighed and whispered in his ear again: “I had hoped you dreamed of me. That time, I knew for certain.”
Resting his head on the bed surround, he said, “If you feel wronged, I’ll pay whatever you ask.”
Song Yao shook his head. “We said no debts remain. The slate between us is wiped clean. Anyway, I’m glad you created that illusion, otherwise I might still be trying to resist you.”
Hengwen hummed in agreement. Without the Jade Emperor’s gift of banishment, Song Yao would never stay in bed with him for nearly a week.
“When did you figure it out?” Hengwen asked.
“The second time.” Song Yao sighed and squeezed his hand. “As soon as I embraced you, I knew I’d held you before.”
Like he had already done countless times today, Hengwen claimed an unhurried kiss. “Do you wish we had done it sooner?” he asked.
Song Yao laughed a bit helplessly.
“Hengwen is a curious person. I feared that I might be a novelty, that you would only be interested in doing it once. Even if the Jade Emperor would have let us keep our heads, this Immortal Lord wouldn’t have survived Qingjun’s rejection.”
Eyebrows pulling together in irritation, Hengwen bit down on Song Yao’s lip so hard that he groaned.
“Thousands of years together and that’s what you think of me,” Hengwen muttered. He licked the wound, coppery with the taste of blood. “When have I ever tired of you?”
“I was wrong,” Song Yao said in a voice that rang with laughter. “Hope Hengwen can forgive me.”
Hengwen kissed the bite until it had healed. “I will, on a condition.”
“Which is?”
“No more holding back. I want to try everything in those books. If we like certain things, we’ll do them again. If we don’t, we’ll try something else. You’ll try things with me until you can’t remember any of your old tales of heartbreak.”
Song Yao shifted so that he sat up straight and took Hengwen’s face in his hands.
“Is this jealousy? Is the unparalleled Hengwen Qingjun jealous of my bad fate?” He kissed Hengwen’s forehead and his cheeks and the tip of his nose. “Don’t you know that I choose no one but you? That in all those thousands of years, I thought of no one else?”
A bit dazed by the declaration, Hengwen wondered if he might be the one dreaming.
“Why haven’t you given me a jade pendant?” he murmured.
“If you’d like one, we’ll go tomorrow. I’ll buy you anything you’d like. A pendant, bracelets, hair pins, wine, even more of those erotic books you’re so fond of. Whatever Hengwen likes, if I can provide it, I will.”
Hengwen’s smile slid into something a little wicked. He put his arms around Song Yao’s waist and pressed him back against the mattress.
“I thought of something I like,” he said and rocked his hips slightly to make his point. “Can I have it now?”
With a sigh of defeat, Song Yao smiled up at him and patted Hengwen’s cheek with his left hand. “Go ahead. I only hope you won’t be disappointed.”
Turning his face into Song Yao’s palm, Hengwen kissed it, then drew the little finger between his lips and bit down at the base, firmly enough to leave a ring of teeth marks where a thread was no longer tied.