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The demoness bows to him in the hallway, holding out a small lacquer box. “For Empress Shen,” she says deferentially.
The woman is part of a visiting envoy from the southwestern demon tribes that is departing the following morning. Her lizard heritage is apparent from her features–she has an incredibly sharp facial structure, with a smattering of scales on her cheekbones. It’s quite striking, actually, and she had been a perfect addition to Luo Binghe’s harem at the time of the story that she had been introduced. Even Shen Qingqiu had agreed that they needed a change from the deluge of human wives that had preceded her!
Naturally, Airplane had completely abandoned expanding on the plight of the tribes that she was representing on her visit to the palace in favor of immediately folding her into Bingge’s harem in exchange for his assistance whatever the problem was. Luo Binghe hadn’t even gotten to go in person to solve the issue; he’d sent Mobei-jun in his stead.
In this timeline, of course, Shen Qingqiu’s Binghe would never consider something like that. Instead, he had negotiated sending assistance and food for the drought-ridden areas in exchange for opening future trade for the tribe’s scaled armor, which is exceptionally strong while remaining curiously flexible.
Shen Qingqiu receives the box, curious as to what could possibly be inside. “Thanking the lady for her generosity,” he murmurs as he opens it to find out.
Six round sesame balls rest on a bed of rice paper, golden and crisp.
“This one hopes that the empress would try one before she leaves, if he is willing,” she says, her slitted eyes flicking up to Shen Qingqiu’s face. “They are homemade.”
A very interesting choice of gift for the empress of the realm, especially one who has almost no relationship with the demoness standing in front of him. Usually this kind of sweet handmade treat is supposed to be a heartfelt gift to the man she is trying to impress! Not an appropriate gift for Shen Qingqiu at all. And so he is instantly suspicious.
“Red bean?” he asks.
She looks surprised. “Yes. How did you know?”
Shen Qingqiu didn’t know just by looking, of course, but if someone is going to put something in a pastry, wouldn’t red bean cover any differences in taste or color better than lotus paste? And to ask him to take a bite right in front of her, in the hallway? It’s obvious that she did something to them! He’s not completely ignorant!
Plus, for her to waylay him on his path like that so effectively, how could it not be evident that she had something up her sleeve? That said, her entourage had already gotten what the assistance she needed for her family, so he really had no idea what else she could possibly want.
He picks up one of the round rice balls, using his thumb to pierce through the crisp dough to the red bean center. It’s a bit inelegant, but he is curious now. He sniffs the filling, then raises an eyebrow at the syrupy-sweet scent.
“Unfortunately, the red bean does not entirely cover the scent of the aphrodisiac honey that you laced the pastries with,” he says dryly, internally crowing with his success as the face of the lady in front of him goes near-blue when she pales. Perhaps due to her cold-blooded traits? “This lord will have to refuse. And if the young lady wishes for the emperor not to find out about what she has done after getting the assistance she sought for, she might want to consider moving her departure up to as soon as she possibly can.”
He doesn’t think Binghe is lurking just around the corner, but if anyone has overheard this exchange, it will get back to him, and it would be better for the demoness in front of him to be long gone if that happens. Not that he knows what she was hoping to achieve–what would dosing him with an aphrodisiac do? Why target him? Such a poison wouldn’t have worked on Luo Binghe, of course, so maybe he was just the next target in line, but what was she expecting to accomplish by going after Shen Qingqiu , of all people? Other than subjecting him to a very full night of loving attention from his husband, there is very little that she could reasonably accomplish with this!
As the demoness hurries off, Shen Qingqiu sighs, dropping the mangled sweet back into the box and flipping the lid shut. Another bizarre and tissue-paper-thin wife plot avoided, it seems.
He has top-tier skills when it comes to dodging wife plots these days.
Sure, he had been terrible at dodging wife plots at the beginning–what with the incident at Maigu Ridge.
And the incident at Huan Hua palace, where all of his clothes had been ripped to shreds right in front of Binghe.
And the incident where he did the whole qi detonation, and Shen Qingqiu had died in Binghe’s arms.
And the incident–well, the point has been made! And now that he has married Binghe and discovered that he is, in fact, the wife, he can spot a wife plot from a hundred li away. Sorry, demons trying to poison or kidnap him, he won’t fall for any of your tricks!
That said, he does seem to get almost caught in them all the time, even if he does mostly manage to avoid them. He eyes the pretty lacquer box in his hands and shrugs to himself, tucking it into his sleeve. He’ll get rid of the sweets inside, of course, but the box itself is nice enough.
When Shen Qingqiu arrives back to their rooms, his husband is there and waiting for him, sitting in front of the table they use for their dinners. He has a meal set out for the two of them already; steam curls off of it, indicating that he has only just finished setting out the dishes.
Luo Binghe’s gaze immediately zeros in on the box in Shen Qingqiu’s hands. “What does Shizun have there?” he asks, voice curious. He almost manages to hide the hint of suspicion in his tone.
Shen Qingqiu sighs in lament to himself, wishing that he had been able to hide the box before Binghe’s attention was drawn to it. He knows how his little blackened sheep is–jealous to the core, afraid of Shen Qingqiu receiving anything from anyone’s hands other than Luo Binghe’s own!
That said, Shen Qingqiu tries to make light of it. “Just a box of sesame balls that I confiscated on the way back to our rooms, Binghe,” he lies shamelessly. “They were laced with an aphrodisiac, and I didn’t want them falling into the wrong hands.”
Shen Qingqiu can see the shift in his husband from jealousy to…something else…now that Shen Qingqiu has denied the sweets being a gift.
“Oh?” Luo Binghe asks slowly, eyeing the box in a new light, then glancing meaningfully up at Shen Qingqiu.
Shen Qingqiu tightens his grip on the box. “Absolutely not!” he hisses.
Luo Binghe schools his face into one of contrition, but Shen Qingqiu can still see the disappointment in his slumped shoulders. He pushes away the guilt; if he willingly took an aphrodisiac to sleep with Binghe, he absolutely would not be able to get out of bed the next day! He would simply expire during the night! It’s not a question of want–he just wouldn’t be able to handle it!
Still, Binghe is ready to accept his denial without question, and his dejected face is such that Shen Qingqiu can’t help giving into the urge to drop the box off on the nearest surface and approach his husband, sliding coyly into his lap and wrapping his arms around Binghe’s neck. Luo Binghe immediately perks up, all hints of disappointment vanishing as he steadies Shen Qingqiu with a hand on his back and another on one of his thighs, almost instantly creeping it up into indecent territory. His absolutely insatiable husband, Shen Qingqiu thinks in exasperation.
“Shizun–?” Luo Binghe starts, the look in his eyes far too innocent for what he is clearly wheedling for.
“Just–” Shen Qingqiu sighs, “–no aphrodisiacs. All right?”
Luo Binghe answers him with an enthusiastic kiss, whisking him off to bed. The food ends up going cold, but neither of them really mind.
A week later, Shen Qingqiu and Binghe have gone back to Cang Qiong sect for their bi-monthly visit.
Two days after that, they are in a field about an hour’s travel by sword flight north of the sect. They’re busy searching for White-Veined Spider Lily eggs for Mu Qingfang, who had asked the sect leader to elect someone to harvest some for his stores. The eggs are an antidote to the potent venom that the Red Spider Lily Widow possesses, which is a fist-sized black widow rip-off that has a beautiful red furl of petals blooming from its back. They often hide in stalks of the flowers that are their namesakes, and Mu Qingfang had been nearly emptied of his entire stash of the eggs when a group of An Ding disciples had an unfortunate run-in with the spiders after they stopped to pick flowers on the roadside the week before.
Normally, work as tedious and simple as this would be an assignment for a group of disciples under the supervision of an older cultivator, but as Binghe had gotten in a fight with Liu Qingge almost as soon as they arrived on peak and had blown a hole through the wall of the Bai Zhan disciple dormitory, Yue Qingyuan had been forced to send them away on a short trip while tempers cooled. And if Luo Binghe was going anywhere, of course Shen Qingqiu was going to go with him; he wasn’t going to let anyone send his partner away without him.
The eggs that they are searching for are as gross as they sound. They are laid by the spiders in the blossoms of the real spider-lilies, and one must be careful while searching through the blossoms to not accidentally disturb any of the spiders. Luo Binghe is searching a few meters away from him, curly hair tied back and out of his face as he leans over the beautiful red blossoms. He is a sight in his black robes with their shining silver embroidery that reflects the crimson red of the flowers. Shen Qingqiu often finds his gaze straying over, watching his husband reach delicately into a flower blossom to pluck out a crimson red orb with white veining. It drips with a pale red viscous fluid, but Luo Binghe pays it no mind as he drops it into a jar already nearly full with the eggs. Despite his strength, he has always excelled with precise tasks such as these.
Shen Qingqiu has gathered quite a few eggs himself, and he finds himself wandering toward the edge of the spider lily patch toward where they are bordered with a small patch of mostly-white flowers. Daffodils, he thinks as he catches sight of them out of the corner of his eye.
Then he does a double take, because the sun glints off the center of one of them like they’re filled with molten gold. It is only a moment before he realizes what they are and makes a quick hand sign even as his gaze is turned toward the bunch, sending Xiu Ya out to slice through the patch. He shears all the blossoms off in one go, and blinks twice before he exhales in relief and shakes his head as they all fall to the ground.
What a stupid wife plot that he just avoided!
The golden center had been enough to make him remember dear wife number eighty-seven, who had gotten trapped by a patch of Golden Mirrored Echoing Narcissus, a breed of daffodil whose golden centers would reflect the viewers face back at them, enrapturing them and drawing them forward until they could do nothing but stare into the centers of the blossoms until they died from hunger or thirst. Despite being beautiful flowers, they thrived on nutrients given by decomposing bodies–far more like mushrooms than flowers, Shen Qingqiu remembered ranting on the subject.
Even worse, the wife who had been trapped by them had been sitting in front of a patch of the narcissus blossoms for two days and a night without any food or water before Luo Binghe had come along and drawn her gaze away with nothing but the sheer protagonist-level attraction of his own beautiful face! It worked, of course, and Luo Binghe had burned the patch without a second thought, saving her from her doom.
Then again, Shen Qingqiu thinks idly as he catches sight of his husband, who had begun picking his way through the flowers at the sudden glint of his Shizun’s sword, perhaps Binghe really is beautiful enough to do just that. With the sun reflecting golden off his hair and the sea of crimson petals that he wades through, it is undeniable that he is the most beautiful being in the realms.
Binghe catches his waist with a hand, pulling Shen Qingqiu towards him as he looks Shen Qingqiu up and down with worry. “Shizun?” he asks, voice brimming with anxiety. “Were you bitten?”
Shen Qingqiu pulls his fan out of his sleeve and unfolds it, tilting his head toward the sadly-mown clump of flowers. “Just a patch of unruly flowers, Binghe,” he says. “I haven’t even seen any of the spiders yet today.”
He flutters his fan, raising it enough to hide his mildly disappointed frown.
“This disciple has finished gathering eggs for Mu-shishu, but maybe Shizun wants to stay and observe the spiders for a bit before we return to the sect? This disciple spotted one a few minutes ago, and he thinks he could find it again.”
Shen Qingqiu is certain that his motivation behind delaying their return to the sect isn’t just allowing his Shizun to observe some creatures that he wants to see, but he’ll still take advantage of the opportunity. Binghe is well aware of his affinity for interesting creatures, and Shen Qingqiu has wanted to see how they interact with the flowers past just sitting in them–do they weave webs? What do they look like in the flower bunches? How do spiders that large feed?
So he allows Binghe to spread out a blanket near the edge of the patch of flowers, and spreads the folds of his robes as he sits to allow him to settle properly on the blanket. Binghe pulls several small boxes out of a qiankun pouch with various warming and cooling talismans on them, along with a tea pot and a pouch of leaves. It seems he’s prepared an entire meal for the two of them to share.
Shen Qingqiu can’t help but to hide his fond smile behind his fan before he accepts a pair of chopsticks from his husband. This is a bit like a classic date, isn’t it? A romantic picnic in a field of flowers? It would be far more embarrassing if anyone were around, but as it is–how sweet his Binghe is. He finds himself allowing his sticky husband to situate himself almost directly behind Shen Qingqiu, where he can watch Shen Qingqiu enjoy the meal that he prepared for him. The warmth of Binghe against his side is nice when compared to the chill of the autumn air, and after a quick glance around to ensure a second time that no one is near, he lets himself lean into Binghe’s chest.
After their visit to Qing Jing, they’re travelling back toward the border to the Demon Realm on their way to Binghe’s underground palace.
With the lack of Xin Mo to conveniently bring them from place to place, Luo Binghe usually coerces Mobei-jun into portalling them to Qing Jing and then summoning him back by talisman when they’re ready to go. Unfortunately, Mobei-jun had sent a letter to Cang Qiong warning them that he would be busy dealing with some small riots near the border that threatened to spill into the Human Realm and wouldn’t be able to transport them back.
The distance that they have to cover to get to the southern underground palace from Cang Qiong mountain is far enough that it’s an exhausting, all-day journey by sword. Instead, they opt to take a three-day carriage trip. Luo Binghe organizes everything, cooking plenty of snacks for Shen Qingqiu and ensuring that the carriage was as comfortable as he could possibly make it. He’d even helped Shen Qingqiu into the carriage like he was some helpless maiden before he’d settled at the front, picking up the reins to drive.
Without Binghe sitting next to him, of course, it was a fairly boring travel, and Shen Qingqiu spent most of his time either napping or reading the newest draft of the trashy series that Shang Qinghua had started writing and scrawling angry corrections in the margins. By evening, however, he was very ready to be out of the carriage and resting in an inn.
“Tomorrow, we’ll travel through the night so we don’t have to find somewhere to stay in the demon realm,” Luo Binghe says as he helps Shen Qingqiu down from the carriage–again with the maiden treatment!–in front of a small inn. It was fairly small, being part of a village that was clearly not well-to-do but also not yet in dire straits, and while it looked fairly weathered and run-down it was not yet at the point that it seemed to be falling apart anywhere.
Luo Binghe makes arrangements for the carriage while Shen Qingqiu enters the front door. There are a few people sitting at the tables downstairs, all eating what appears to be some kind of stew. Standing near the entrance is an older man with a hard, angry face. There is something in his face that looks undeniably shifty, and when he catches sight of Shen Qingqiu he mutters something to the young lady standing next to him and whirls on his heel, disappearing into a back room.
The young lady bites her lip as she looks after him with what appears to be a worried frown, then shakes her head and turns back to Shen Qingqiu, a lovely smile gracing her face.
“Welcome to our humble inn, traveller,” she says politely, her voice sweet and soothing. She has a clear resemblance to the man who had disappeared–likely her father–but the features that had seemed shifty and sharp on his face showed as graceful and refined on hers. She bows as she speaks, drawing Shen Qingqiu’s eye to the embroidery on her sleeves. The material of her dress is not especially high-end, just simple fabrics with muted dyes, but the embroidery at the hems is both elegant and beautiful. Shen Qingqiu can spy spots in the folds of her skirt where it appears that the embroidery could potentially be serving as particularly beautiful mends, allowing the dress to be used for longer before needing to be converted into cleaning scraps. “How may we help you?”
“One room for the night, please,” Shen Qingqiu says, feeling more than seeing Luo Binghe appear behind him.
“Of course,” the lady says, her smile faltering at whatever face Luo Binghe is making behind him, instead choosing to search behind her counter for a key, accepting Binghe’s payment before she leads them to an empty room. Shen Qingqiu feels his face flush when she opens the door and sees that there is only one bed in the room, but Luo Binghe smiles at the assumption, clearly pleased.
Shen Qingqiu can’t bring himself to follow Luo Binghe into the room with her watching them. “I think I shall go downstairs for a cup of tea, Binghe,” he says.
Surprisingly, Binghe nods. “Shizun should relax,” he agrees smoothly. “This disciple will prepare dinner in the kitchens while he has his tea.”
He doesn’t ask for use of the kitchens, and the poor young lady clearly has no intention of telling him that he can’t have it. Of course she has no defense against someone as beautiful and charming as Binghe! While Shen Qingqiu should probably tell off such presumptive behavior, he always prefers having his husband’s cooking to anything else–and that stew did not look to be the most appetizing meal in the world.
Instead, he allows himself to be led downstairs and sat at one of the tables, leaving Binghe to do whatever he wanted. The innkeeper's daughter disappears in order to brew the tea, back in the same direction that her father had left when Shen Qingqiu had first arrived.
When she appears, her face appears paler than it had before. Her hands shake a small amount as she sets the pot in front of him, and her movements while she serves the tea are slightly jerky. Shen Qingqiu raises his fan to cover his face as he frowns, watching her.
He picks up the teacup, and the young lady’s eyes follow him nervously as he tilts the cup. There is a slight sheen to the surface of the tea, and he sighs before putting it back down.
Shen Qingqiu knows better than to drink from a cup of tea served to him by anyone who is acting so suspiciously! He can literally see the sedative swimming in the slightly-oversteeped liquid.
He doesn’t wish to be kidnapped today! While Binghe would find him almost immediately, due to the blood parasites–if they could even drag his unconscious body out of the main room of the inn before Binghe comes downstairs to prepare his meal for the evening–they have already had a long day. He wants to relax and go to sleep!
And he doesn’t need Binghe to see him all tied up again. His poor body had enough after the last time Binghe had brought out immortal binding cables.
“Why is the young lady trying to sedate this master?” Shen Qingqiu asks quietly, raising his eyes to meet the girl’s. “Surely she should guess that, as cultivators, we would not be so easily taken advantage of?”
She looks disconsolate, tears brimming at the rims of her eyes. “My father,” she spills immediately. “He told me I had to try, that if we hid you from your companion that he could ransom your return. He’s in so much gambling debt, you see, and we’re about to lose the inn. I don’t–I have nowhere else to go. I have to do whatever he says, so please, don’t hurt me!”
She bows over the table as she speaks, the words slipping out of her faster and faster as she gives him the story. It is a classic tale of the evil father and the helpless girl who has to do whatever he asks of her, and Shen Qingqiu has never been able to blame a clearly sweet girl for the sins of her father. Not only that, but the explanation finally elucidates what plot he’s stumbled into. The girl is telling the truth–the same plotline had happened to Luo Binghe in the original story, where the girl had served Binghe the tea. He’d drunk it just to show that he could, and obviously it didn’t affect him at all. After he questioned her and got her tearful story, took her upstairs to sleep with her in the room he’d rented for the night (with her father still downstairs!!!) before he swept her away to marry her, freeing her from her debt-ridden father. Another wife added to the harem of beauties.
Shen Qingqiu has no intention of following this original storyline. Instead, he gestures at her sleeves. “The embroidery work here is beautiful,” he comments. She looks up from where she’d hidden her face in her arms on the table, red-rimmed eyes round and confused. “Did you do it?”
She looks down at her sleeves, then back up at Shen Qingqiu. “Yes,” she says hesitantly, eyebrows furrowed. “I enjoy needlework.”
Shen Qingqiu smiles. “My husband and I reside in the demon realm, and they are not so good at handmade crafts and things such as needlepoint,” he says. “If you would like, we could offer you employment in the emperor’s palace. It could give you options.”
The young lady’s eyes widen, and she straightens in her chair. “A job? Really? After what I did?” She looks hopeful, despite herself.
“Well, don’t tell my husband that it happened,” Shen Qingqiu sniffs. “And dispose of the pot. He’ll smell it if he gets close. But if you would like, I would be happy to send someone to fetch you after we return home.”
She rises quickly, taking the opportunity to bow low towards him. “Thank you so much for your generosity,” she murmurs. “This servant humbly accepts your offer of employment, and will not let you down.”
Shen Qingqiu smiles as she takes away the pot of tea, then grins wider when Luo Binghe appears at his side, carrying both bowls and plates for the two of them. His husband won’t be happy to hear that he’s offered a job to a woman as pretty as that girl–he gets jealous over the silliest things–but when Shen Qingqiu tells him how handsome Luo Binghe will look in her needlework and acquiesces to letting Binghe dress him up in new outfits of his own, Binghe settles down next to him, looking content.
Shen Qingqiu, meanwhile, wonders if there is something about him that causes so many pretty young girls to try poisoning him. He’s not as immune as Binghe! He’s just lucky that he is so good at catching these plots before they catch him.
They were supposed to be having a nice afternoon out together.
It had been a few weeks since they’d gone back to Qing Jing peak, and Luo Binghe had just finished dealing with the demands that being back to court after some time away always put onto him. Court was good at running without him–Mobei-jun and Sha Hualing made sure of that–but there were always things that only Junshang could oversee and make decisions surrounding. After four days straight wrangling the various responsibilities taking up Luo Binghe’s attention, he had decided that it was time to take Shizun out to ignore the sycophants clamoring for his attention again.
He’d taken Shen Qingqiu to a mountain range located in the central territories near the Tianyi sect in order to view the migration of the Glittering Century Starling, which live for a thousand years and migrate every hundred. Like regular starlings, they nest behind waterfalls, and the fact that they do literally sparkle gives a beautiful crystalline effect to the already picturesque waterfall in the mountains. They migrate at night, and when they approach the waterfall they are supposed to appear like their own beautiful localized star shower.
Shen Qingqiu had admittedly been incredibly excited to view a sight so breathtaking, and he and Luo Binghe had arrived just as twilight was starting to fall, the sky beginning to be painted with orange and reds, bathing the water and the surrounding forest in warm tones.
Unfortunately, as Luo Binghe had been searching for a place for the two of them to rest with a good spot to view the migration, he had managed to disturb something else that had been settled in the cliff face near the waterfall.
Shen Qingqiu had simply been hovering on Xiu Ya as Luo Binghe had flown below an overhang–miraculously on Zheng Yang, for a change, solely so Luo Binghe could scout out a place to rest without inconveniencing his Shizun–and was only out of sight for a few seconds before he’d gone flying backwards head over heels away from the cliff face, managing to catch his sword in his hand in an incredibly badass maneuver at the last second.
A moment afterwards, a horrifically gigantic…what is that? A wasp , Shen Qingqiu thinks–flies out from under the overhang. It’s striped in yellow and black, but it is clearly a wasp and not a fuzzy bee. Its body is long and streamlined with a wickedly sharp glint at the tip and it’s big enough that it wouldn’t even begin to fit inside the bamboo house. The sound that it makes as it flies is akin to a helicopter, due to the multitude of wings beating all at once as it shoots towards Luo Binghe, who is getting his sword back under his feet.
It is the many wings that allows Shen Qingqiu to identify the creature; a Seven-Winged Acid Hornet, which, as demonstrated by its expectedly lazy name, has seven wings and the ability to spit acid in addition to its already deadly metallic stinger.
“Luo Binghe! Watch out for the acid!” he calls, just as the thing screeches with a horrible shrill sound and practically projectile-vomits yellow acid toward Luo Binghe, who swoops in a practiced loop out of the way as he soars upwards, eyes glinting red as he takes in the creature.
Shen Qingqiu narrows his eyes as he observes the creature flying. The seven wings seem to be partitioned into three pairs, with a third that sticks out from his back in a surprisingly elegant manner to act as a kind of rudder for fine movement and turns. The first set propels it forward, the second set controls height, and the third set can help it to break or hover entirely in place. The creature hadn’t debuted with any large amount of screentime in Proud Immortal Demon Way , but he remembers reading about it as he’d been going through the bestiaries on Qing Jing peak.
The hornet shrieks again and streaks towards Luo Binghe at a speed nearly too fast to see, its lower body curved underneath it to point its deadly sharp stinger towards him as it approaches. Luo Binghe banks hard on Zheng Yang, catching the point of the stinger with his blade, sending bright sparks flying. He’s thrown away from the force of a creature the size of a building impacting him at top speed, hurtling towards the ground with his sword spinning out of reach.
Shen Qingqiu takes that moment to swoop in, grabbing his fan from his sleeve and sweeping it towards the creature to knock it back with a qi infused wave of force as he flies to catch his husband.
Luo Binghe lands in his arms in a perfect princess carry, and laughs delightedly as he wraps his own arms around Shen Qingqiu’s neck. “I knew Shizun would catch me,” he says sweetly, tucking his face against Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder.
Shen Qingqiu feels his face burn red in embarrassment, even though no one is around. The badass protagonist should not be swooning in his arms! He would have been just fine even if he’d let Luo Binghe fall; likely he would not have even been scratched. Still, Shen Qingqiu has always been weak about going to help Luo Binghe, even when his disciple hadn’t needed it.
“Binghe should finish this fight before nightfall,” Shen Qingqiu responds, not deigning Luo Binghe’s flirtations with a response. “Or we’ll disrupt the starling migration.”
Luo Binghe blinks, then nods as he pulls out of Shen Qingqiu’s arms and perches in front of him on the sword. “Alright, Shizun! Just wait, I’ll destroy it for you.”
He makes a hand sign, and Zheng Yang glints in the evening sun as it flies towards the two of them. He jumps from Xiu Ya to Zheng Yang in an impressive delay of agility, streaking toward the hornet with claws and teeth bared.
Shen Qingqiu waves his fan in front of his face as he watches the fight, pleased to once again have a front-row seat to watch his husband take down such a huge creature. Luo Binghe shoots into the sky and past the Seven-Winged Acid Hornet before jumping from his sword, catching it in his hand as he plummets down towards it. Luo Binghe lands on the hornet’s back, the claws of his free hand sinking into and through the tough exoskeleton–though not tough enough for the sharpness of a heavenly demon’s claws, it seems.
It seems only to be enough to make it mad, and the hornet fly wildly, careening in random directions and sharp changes as Luo Binghe shifts his grip on his sword, snarling before he lets go with his left hand just long enough to grab a wing, then slice down with the sword and severing it entirely. The hornet shrieks again, chilling in its pitch and intensity and enough to make Shen Qingqiu’s ears hurt. Its flight path immediately loses control, and the two of them go careening toward the face of the cliff, crashing into it with a deafening bang , rock and dirt crumbling under the impact of the bodies. Shen Qingqiu’s breath is in his throat as his eyes search the wreckage in the deepening evening, cursing the nightfall and lack of bright moon as he looks for any sign of–
Ah. There he is, Luo Binghe snarling as they fall from the side of the cliff to the riverbank below, raising his sword once more over his head and plunging it down into the hornet’s body right as they hit the ground.
Shen Qingqiu flies down on Xiu Ya, alighting on the riverbank near the corpse of the no-longer-seven-winged hornet as Luo Binghe jumps from its back to the ground in front of Shen Qingqiu, robes almost entirely splattered with a dark gorey substance, but face bright and sweet as he beams.
The sun is nearly below the horizon by now, casting a shadowy hue over everything, but Shen Qingqiu’s breath catches at the dazzling brilliance of his husband as Luo Binghe appreciates him. “Binghe did very well,” he says after a moment, pleased.
“This disciple only followed Shizun’s teachings,” Luo Binghe chirps in response, reaching towards Shen Qingqiu to pull him closer. Shen Qingqiu rolls his eyes internally at the stickiness of his disciple, and is about to respond when he smells something burning, and looks down.
“Binghe!” he exclaims, “Your robes!”
Luo Binghe looks down, then blanches as he realizes that the dark substance that he’s splattered in must also be acidic, because it is eating through all of his clothing incredibly rapidly. “Oh,” he says blankly.
“Take them off!” Shen Qingqiu demands, tugging at a small section of the fabric where it is actually clean.
His disciple obeys quickly, pulling at the ties and ignoring when his hands start smoking as he touches the gore, loosening his sash and shrugging out of his outer robe, then his following layers as it turns out that the acidic gore has already eaten through most of those layers as well.
Shen Qingqiu circles behind Luo Binghe and sighs in relief when he confirms that none of the acid got into his hair, then circles back around and freezes as he comes to the realization that Luo Binghe is now standing in front of him wearing nothing but a pair of loose linen trousers; he’d even had to remove his shoes after discovering acid burning through one of the boots.
Luo Binghe looks at him–through his lashes, somehow, despite being taller–blushing prettily. “Thanking Shizun for noticing the acid in time,” he says meekly.
What in time? Shen Qingqiu thinks acidly. You’re still standing there wearing almost nothing!
Luo Binghe rolls his shoulders, drawing Shen Qingqiu’s gaze to the muscles there despite himself. He really is beautiful, Shen Qingqiu thinks wistfully, even when he’s been caught off guard by a monster and acid has burned off almost all of his clothes…
Hold on.
Didn’t the same thing happen to countless other beauties in Bingge’s harem before he saved them from various acid-spewing or claw-wielding creatures that then managed to seduce him in order to thank him for his assistance in saving them?
But wouldn’t that mean that such a thing was supposed to happen to Shen Qingqiu just now? And earlier, when Luo Binghe had fallen into his arms after he’d been flung away from his sword–
Could it be that Binghe is being wife-plotted, right now?
Just as he thinks such a crazy thought, Luo Binghe approaches him, causing Shen Qingqiu to backpedal before he’s corralled against the trunk of a tree, overwhelmed by the sight of Luo Binghe’s skin everywhere in front of him. His hands flutter before settling on the bare chest in front of him. It’s different when they’re outside and not in their room and bed, okay?
“This disciple should thank Shizun for his assistance during the fight,” Binghe says smoothly, hands tugging at Shen Qingqiu’s sash. “He doesn’t know what he would do without Shizun to help him.”
Shen Qingqiu grits his teeth. Luo Binghe would have been just fine without him! “What help?” he spits, bristling like a ruffled cat.
“When he caught this disciple so capably,” Luo Binghe answers immediately, despite it clearly being a rhetorical question. “Shizun should be thanked for his efforts. What could this disciple do for him?”
By now, half of Shen Qingqiu’s robes are pooled around his elbows, and Luo Binghe is dipping his hand into his waistband. “Not Shizun,” he bites out.
Luo Binghe perks up under the admonishment, knowing that he’s gotten his way. “Of course, husband ,” he says, and leans in for a kiss.
Later, they are curled up on top of a spare robe that Luo Binghe had pulled out and resting against the tree, the crash of the waterfall a dull roar that has lulled Shen Qingqiu into a sleepy contentment. Luo Binghe is dressed again, having fished out a change of clothes. The night casts everything into a soft black and white haze.
“Ah,” Luo Binghe says after a moment, pointing up into the sky. “There they are, Shizun.”
Shen Qingqiu squints up, following the way he’s being directed to look. He sees nothing but the glittering of stars for a moment, and furrows his brows before he realizes that he’s seeing too many glittering stars. In fact, there seems to be hundreds of them, sparkling in the night and growing in size and whirling around and through each other in a cloud of diamonds, reflecting the weak moonlight and glowing with what seems to be their own inherent light.
“The starlings,” Shen Qingqiu says breathlessly. “They’re beautiful.”
They don’t fly in a coordinated manner like geese; instead they flock, hundreds of them darting all over the place, and they glitter like gems as they fly towards the waterfall, then somehow through and behind it. The water refracts and bends the light, making the entire waterfall look as if it is lit from the inside, glowing blue and golden and white in turn.
Shen Qingqiu watches, heart in his throat, until all of the birds have settled behind the waterfall, the magical glow more beautiful than he could have imagined. Finally, he turns to glance at his husband, who–predictably, but embarrassingly–is doing nothing but smiling at him, affection practically leaking out of his pores.
Shen Qingqiu clenches his hand holding his fan for a moment before he relaxes, reaching out to cradle Luo Binghe’s face. Binghe leans into the touch, smiling and pleased. Shen Qingqiu leans in, pressing his lips gently to Binghe’s. The kiss is warm and soft, almost too sweet to stand.
“Thank you,” he murmurs against his husband’s lips.
“Anything for Shizun,” Binghe says shamelessly back, and straddles Shen Qingqiu’s lap, pinning him back against the tree to kiss him thoroughly once more.