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The silver glare of Cheng Luan slices through the air, narrowly missing Luo Binghe's bicep as the demon lord twists away. He sends back a sword glare of his own, white light streaking through the charged air. Liu Qingge spins to dodge it, bringing his sword around in a full circle to strike at Luo Binghe's unprotected side. Luo Binghe parries, trying to knock Liu Qingge off-balance, but the older man expertly steps away, maintaining his distance and eyeing the demon warily.
Luo Binghe can see his master just past Liu Qingge's shoulder, watching with a thoughtful expression on his face. The two combatants circle around each other, step for step, and when he and the War God each complete a half-circle, trading their initial positions, he resists the urge to turn and check that Shen Qingqiu's eyes are on Luo Binghe and Luo Binghe alone. Unable to afford the distraction, he drives all his focus toward the man in front of him. Liu Qingge hasn't won a single battle against Luo Binghe, but every time they fight, he gets that much closer. As much as the challenge thrills him, it also reminds him that he has so much more to lose than just a fight. Luo Binghe can't let Liu Qingge win, not now, not ever.
But then Liu Qingge's eyes shift, for the slightest moment, towards Shen Qingqiu, and something inside Luo Binghe snaps.
He charges, baring his teeth, unleashing another sword glare, forcing Liu Qingge's attention back on him. They trade a few more attacks, and then, Luo Binghe makes a critical mistake.
He thought he'd corrected his haphazard footwork, but it seems he's fallen back on old, bad habits, and Liu Qingge has clearly been waiting for the opportunity. The instant Luo Binghe puts his foot down in the wrong place, Liu Qingge takes advantage and knocks Luo Binghe down and disarms him in one fluid motion.
Luo Binghe blinks, mouth agape. Liu Qingge glares down at him, triumph blazing in his eyes. Just how closely has he been watching Luo Binghe, to anticipate this error and use it against him?
And then that wretched flame within Luo Binghe flares, momentarily stunning him with the desire to grab Liu Qingge by his narrow waist, flip their positions, and bear down on him with his full body weight to show him just how outmatched the War God is. But before he can act on the impulse, Liu Qingge is stepping back and sheathing his sword, glancing down with some sort of intent at Luo Binghe, who still hasn't quite processed the last few moments.
"Oh!" Shen Qingqiu's clear voice pierces the sudden silence. "Binghe lost?"
His brain reactivates upon hearing the question. It gives him no small sense of pride to know that his beloved had anticipated his victory. But the feeling is soon washed over by the cold shiver of failure for disappointing Shizun's expectations. He jumps to his feet, snarling at Liu Qingge like the demon he is. For all his flaws, Liu Qingge is vigilant, a hand gripping Cheng Luan's hilt though he does not draw his sword again.
"Again," Luo Binghe demands, raising his own sword. "Fight me again!"
Liu Qingge takes a hesitant step back, eyes flicking back and forth with confusion between Luo Binghe in front of him and Shen Qingqiu approaching them.
"Binghe! Take your loss with grace!" Shen Qingqiu admonishes him, finally coming forward to step between them. "Your Liu-shishu has worked hard for this, let him have this one victory."
Shen Qingqiu's assumption that he will win the next fight mollifies Luo Binghe. Just a little.
Then the Qing Jing Peak Lord turns to Liu Qingge, smiling. "Congratulations, Shidi. It's rare that anyone wins against Binghe." There's a strange lilt to his words, as if laden with hidden meaning only Liu Qingge is meant to hear.
Liu Qingge blinks back, flushed gaze jumping to Luo Binghe for the barest moment before settling back on Shen Qingqiu. Then he relaxes a bit, the corner of his lips twitching up a fraction. "Mn," he affirms with a nod.
Luo Binghe seethes. In an effort not to disappoint Shizun any further, he holds back the urge to grab Liu Qingge by the jaw and force his face, his eyes, his barely-there smile away from Shen Qingqiu. Instead, he bows, although not quite as low as he should.
"This disciple thanks Liu...shishu for the bout," he says as smoothly as he can, though his eyes surely betray the tumultuous rage within him. He turns to Shen Qingqiu. "Shizun, shall this disciple go prepare dinner? I must start soon if you still wish to have fresh noodles."
Shen Qingqiu lights up at the suggestion. "Oh, yes, please!" And before Luo Binghe can say anything else, he turns back to Liu Qingge and adds, "Liu-shidi, you must join us!"
Luo Binghe can feel his mouth pull into an awful grimace, and leaps to interject before the other man can answer.
"Apologies to Liu...shishu, but there are only enough ingredients to make noodles for two meals," he grits out. "This disciple was remiss in restocking the kitchen and shall rectify that as soon as possible, but it's too late now to go to the markets today."
Shen Qingqiu frowns at him. "In that case, perhaps we can save the noodles for another time and Binghe could cook something else. How about some congee?"
"I don't think-" Liu Qingge starts to say, only for Shen Qingqiu to interrupt him, swiveling around on his feet to head back toward the Bamboo House.
"Come now, Liu-shidi! You must be hungry after that fight, I insist!"
The demon lord and Bai Zhan's War God scramble to follow after him, Shen Qingqiu's unyielding succinctness and brisk gait heading off any further protestations. Liu Qingge throws uncertain looks in Luo Binghe's direction every so often, which he steadfastly ignores even as he internally fumes at the man for the audacity.
And that is how Luo Binghe ends up in the kitchen, angrily slicing up a tender, juicy chicken breast for a garnish as he waits for the congee to finish simmering down to the perfect consistency. When that step is finally done, he scoops up a spoonful to test, but can only taste the sour vinegar of jealousy coating his tongue. Mechanically, he spoons out three bowls and sprinkles freshly-chopped scallions over each of them, then carries the tray back into the main room. He can hear the murmurs of Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge's conversation, though he cannot make out the words, and they go quiet just as he enters.
The scene he meets with makes him pause. Shen Qingqiu looks like a smug cat, his eyes gliding between Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge, as if he knows a secret they don't. Liu Qingge is stiff, blushing, and refuses to meet Luo Binghe's eyes.
Luo Binghe blinks once, bites his tongue, then continues with his task. Acting the filial disciple, he serves Shen Qingqiu first, then Liu Qingge, and finally himself, settling into his rightful place beside his Shizun, although he leaves less space between their thighs than is truly proper. Shen Qingqiu shoots him an exasperated look, but says nothing.
They eat in silence for some time, and then Liu Qingge abruptly speaks.
"This... is really good," he says, then shoves his spoon into his mouth, as if afraid to say anything else.
Luo Binghe's own spoon halts halfway in its ascent, startled by the sudden comment. It stirs a muddle of confused emotions within him, not least of which is smug satisfaction. Luo Binghe is about to remark how this must be the best meal Liu Qingge has ever tasted, but the words die on his tongue when he sees Liu Qingge's eyes flick to his, then back down to his bowl, another blush darkening his cheeks.
Is Liu Qingge being... shy?
The realization sparks even more confusion. Perhaps his loss earlier has thrown Luo Binghe off, made him even more determined to win their next fight, because that is the only way to explain his sudden, inexplicable desire to bite down on the skin of Liu Qingge's tinted cheekbones and make them even redder. Luo Binghe subtly shakes it off, and brings up his spoon to taste warm congee and hard ceramic instead. It makes a poor substitute.
He shifts his head, catching Shen Qingqiu's face in his peripheral vision. Shen Qingqiu has barely taken a bite and seems rather distracted. Despite his obvious efforts to stay discreet, he keeps looking from Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge and back, as if he expects something to happen. Does he think they're going to start fighting again?
Luo Binghe can't help but glance back up at Liu Qingge, making sudden eye contact. The other man snaps his gaze away again, staring resolutely at his bowl. Has he been watching Luo Binghe this entire time? The idea sends a shudder of some emotion curling in Luo Binghe's stomach. It matters little. Because as long as Liu Qingge is looking at Luo Binghe, he is not looking at Shen Qingqiu.
The rest of their meal is bathed in awkward silence, from which both Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge quickly escape once it is over; one to the kitchen to do the washing up, the other out the door and back to his peak. Shen Qingqiu is left sitting in his seat, an indulgent--if a bit strained--smile on his face when Luo Binghe returns and they settle into their evening routine.
***
The next time Liu Qingge and Luo Binghe meet, Luo Binghe is the instigator of their battle, far too eager and determined to reestablish his dominance in their dynamic, not giving Liu Qingge even the merest chance to refuse his challenge.
He lunges. Liu Qingge parries. Luo Binghe feints to the right, and Liu Qingge blocks his subsequent strike. It's a dance they both know well, and Luo Binghe cannot help but delight in the lick of warm excitement that having a well-matched rival elicits in him.
But something feels off. The longer they dance, the more solid the incongruency grows, yet Luo Binghe cannot find the shape of it, like grasping through mud for slippery roots that slide right out of his fingers. One thing, however, becomes very clear: it's not enough anymore.
Liu Qingge lands a heavy punch on his pectoral, leaving a bruise that will be gone before the battle concludes. For some inexplicable reason, Luo Binghe's heart stutters, and a sudden rush of want that he generally associates with Shen Qingqiu floods his senses. He puts some distance between them, and shakes off the distracting feeling, grasping at anything else to think of.
Not for the first time during one of their bouts, Luo Binghe thinks back to their daily battles during that dark, depressing period he was never sure would end. He's seen all of Liu Qingge's moves before, fluidly strung together in various configurations through years of practice and hard experience. Lost in memory, Luo Binghe reacts to the phantom of a past Liu Qingge as the present one shifts from the echoed base form to a completely different position--a fatal mistake. But for the barest moment, the dredged-up memories are vanquished by the vision of Liu Qingge's bashful expression from only a few nights ago. With it comes another flood of incoherent craving that stupefies Luo Binghe, and before he even realizes it, Liu Qingge has him on his back. Luo Binghe lets out a snarl and grapples him, pulling him close and flipping them both over.
Their wrestling dislodges their outer robes, making it a little more troublesome to keep the other man pinned. Liu Qingge struggles to free himself from Luo Binghe's grip, pulling open one side of his collar in his squirming. The sight of his bared collarbone sends a shiver of thrill down Luo Binghe's spine, and, running on instinct, he dives down to bite it, fangs bared and aching for tender flesh between them.
Liu Qingge gasps. With shocking strength, he knocks Luo Binghe back over. In an instant, he has Cheng Luan at the half-demon's throat. The older man's eyes are full of wild shock, his mouth gaping. The angry red circle at the base of his neck oozes a drop of blood, and Luo Binghe tastes iron on his tongue, unconsciously licking his lips.
Luo Binghe has lost again.
"Binghe!" Shen Qingqiu calls out, voice pitched high with worry, "Are you okay?"
His beloved is instantly at his side, fussing while trying not to look like he is. Liu Qingge withdraws his sword and attends to his injury, Luo Binghe distantly notices.
"That's the first time he's ever lost to the same person twice," Shen Qingqiu mutters to himself, though both Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge can hear him, judging from the War God's whole-body flinch.
The two Peak Lords seem quite agitated, but Luo Binghe is too busy spiraling to pay much more attention. For all that Xin Mo is gone and shattered, all of his nebulous doubts seize the advantage to take form, drowning out the voices of reason trying to reach him now.
You lost. Again. Twice in a row to Liu Qingge.
Does that mean- Does that mean he'll lose the next time, and the next? Is this the beginning of another five years of constant combat, only with their dynamic reversed? Is it finally time for the arrow shot skyward to land? What if he never wins another battle again, against Liu Qingge or anyone else?
You lost. You lost and you lost and you'll lose again. If you can't win, you can't protect what's yours. If you can't win, you're useless...
Luo Binghe has immensely enjoyed his relationship with Shen Qingqiu. He admits to taking liberties with his Shizun that a nobler man would not, but he hasn't done anything Shen Qingqiu hasn't forgiven him for.
But what if he has, and Shen Qingqiu's patience is running out? What if Shen Qingqiu realizes that Luo Binghe is not as confident or as capable as he pretends to be? What if this is the breaking point?
He'll leave you. He just needs a reason. You've given him plenty already.
Luo Binghe's head has somehow made it into his hands, his claws scratching thin, bloody lines down his skin that heal nearly instantly. The lack of a lasting, grounding pain unmoors him even more. There is a cacophony around him, but he only hears the insidious whispers within the cage of his own mind.
Weak. Pathetic. Useless.
Liu Qingge's angry face appears in sharp relief before him, wrenching his claws away from his face. He says something. Luo Binghe still cannot hear him over the jeers and disparagement his own mind offers to him.
He knows you're an evil, worthless demon, no better than the rest.
The demon latches onto Liu Qingge's wrists, claws piercing the white fabric, drawing pinpricks of red. Liu Qingge tries to jerk away, but Luo Binghe is holding on too tightly. Why won't the man just stay put?
Why would he? Why heed you when there's Shen Qingqiu?
It's not until he registers the undercurrent of fear on Liu Qingge's face that he realizes he's fully relinquished control over his human guise. With painstaking effort, Luo Binghe loosens his grip and lets go, watching as Liu Qingge wrenches his hands back to himself, rubbing them. Luo Binghe stares morosely at his clawed hands, his heart keening at the mess he's made of things.
He won't forgive you. He never has. He never will.
"Binghe?" Shen Qingqiu asks softly, as if he's fragile. Perhaps he is. He certainly feels like he'll break at any moment.
He'd be better off without you.
Schooling his expression, Luo Binghe shakes his head, as if to dislodge his brittle thoughts, but it only serves to fracture them even more, casting them into the corners and crevices of his mind like seeds into water and left to proliferate unhindered.
"This disciple is fine," he lies, bowing. "I apologize for the outburst." It's disturbingly easy to hide the broken mess that is Luo Binghe's still-shattering mind. He smiles easily, though the other men don't return it. Ah, Liu Qingge's blood still stains his mouth. He purses his lips to hide it, but they've already seen. Just more proof of what a monster he is.
Neither Peak Lord looks convinced by his words, but Luo Binghe gives them no further chance to question him.
"We should celebrate Shishu's second victory. I'll make noodles," he says faintly, spinning around to make his way back to the Bamboo House. Luo Binghe suddenly has a desperate need for Liu Qingge to taste his noodles before he leaves. After a moment, he pauses to add, with only slight reluctance, "Shishu will need help dressing his wound."
Like before, Liu Qingge stays, but he's clearly uncomfortable, huddled in the corner as he is working his shoulder in circles, a grimace on his face as he massages his collarbone. Did Luo Binghe injure him more than he let on? Shizun won't like that. But there's no need for a third, unwelcome set of hands, so Luo Binghe heads back into the kitchen to make their meal. He only realizes he still has his claws out when he feels faint pinpricks in his clenched fists, and has to consciously reassert his human form. Who knows if he might infect the food with his demonic qi, if he continues to forget himself.
The tension between the three of them only grows when the noodles are finally served and they eat in silence.
"Did Liu-shidi like the noodles?" Shen Qingqiu asks tentatively once they've finished.
"Mn," he answers, holding Luo Binghe's gaze. The demon, for his part, does not shy away from the resolute stare, and he gives the older man a polite, insincere smile of gratitude. Liu Qingge makes an odd face, as if tasting something sour. Luo Binghe decides he doesn't like that expression.
"What happened back there?" the white-clad cultivator finally demands, as bluntly as ever. At least he had the courtesy to wait until dinner was over.
"This disciple still has much to learn," Luo Binghe answers smoothly as another doubt splinters through the shatterpoints of his mind. "He will be sure to meditate on his failures and become a better opponent for Shishu."
The answer is filial and deferential, just like Shizun is always chiding him to be. Yet his master looks completely unsatisfied, frowning behind his fan. Luo Binghe can do nothing right by him, it seems.
"Binghe, are you certain you're alright?" he asks, so achingly soft, enough to bruise Luo Binghe's tender heart.
"Yes, Shizun," Luo Binghe replies, returning with a soft smile of his own. "It's getting late, and the moon is dark tonight. Shishu should leave now if he doesn't wish to fly back blind."
Liu Qingge is scowling enough that Luo Binghe senses another fight approaching, but one glance at Shen Qingqiu is all it takes to convince him to go. Luo Binghe's mind suffers yet another fragmentation at his wordless acquiescence. Why expect otherwise? Liu Qingge would do anything for Shen Qingqiu, and only Shen Qingqiu. The man is infuriatingly consistent there, at least.
Once the Bai Zhan Peak Lord is on his way, Shen Qingqiu pulls Luo Binghe into a bath and insists on pampering him.
Luo Binghe loves him so, so much. His tender ministrations are almost enough to mend the cracks.
But when they settle in for the night and Shen Qingqiu makes an uncharacteristic attempt to initiate sex for once, Luo Binghe does the even more surprising thing and turns him down.
"It's too soon. You're still recovering from last night," he explains, and lays down beside him. Shen Qingqiu looks stricken, but finally lays down himself, tugging Luo Binghe close.
"I want to," he insists, whisper-quiet, but Luo Binghe simply kisses his forehead and bids him good night.
When Shen Qingqiu finally falls into deep sleep, Luo Binghe presses another gentle kiss to his forehead and slips out of their bed.
Under the cover of the moonless night, Luo Binghe leaves the Bamboo House, steps onto Zheng Yang, and flies off in a random direction.
***
As Luo Binghe speeds through the air, aloft and alone on his sword, bitter winds biting at his exposed flesh, he reflects.
At first, he'd thought it only natural. An obvious consequence of his ultimate victory. Shen Qingqiu had loved him. He'd won the war for Shizun's affections, his attentions, his love. He was the one who could shamelessly shadow Shen Qingqiu hither and thither, a permanent stain on that elegant jade that the rest of the entire cultivation world would love nothing more than to steal for themselves, as Liu Qingge's very presence reminded him at their every meeting. And Luo Binghe would snipe right back, smug, alluding to things that would have his Shizun fluttering open his fan and rebuking him for the impropriety. It was Luo Binghe's right to be possessive, jealous, arrogant.
The message had been clear: no matter what Liu Qingge did or tried to do, Luo Binghe would always win.
It was almost a game, then. Luo Binghe would prod and goad, and Liu Qingge would rise to the bait. Sometimes, it would end with Liu Qingge leaving in a huff of irritation. Others times, it would devolve into yet another fight.
Luo Binghe preferred that. To turn the fraught, emotional turmoil in his heart and mind into something physical, something tangible, something he could punch and kick and bite. And at least Liu Qingge gave as good as he got, even if he never won. It proved his strength of character, his dogged determination despite insurmountable odds. It was... nice, to have someone meet him on the battlefield, match him blow for blow, lose, and still show up again the next day for more. (For him.)
It reminded him, in a distant sort of way, of those long, lonely five years when Shen Qingqiu had been dead and Luo Binghe had nothing else. When he could only count the days by the arrival of one pissed-off, extremely determined Bai Zhan War God.
The return of their near-daily challenges was one of the few things he'd been happy to retain from those dark days. A routine, a script, something so certain and fundamental it could have been written into the stars. Liu Qingge came. They fought. Luo Binghe won. Liu Qingge left, vowing he would not stop until he claimed victory.
And he would always come back.
But then Luo Binghe lost. Twice.
The first time, Shen Qingqiu had teased him, in that soft, gentle way of his, chiding him for being a sore loser, as if having a perfect record of wins against Liu Qingge was all he cared about. It wasn't.
Luo Binghe had been sulking because it meant Liu Qingge wasn't coming back. Why return to an enemy who he could best again and again? Why stay when he'd finally gotten what he wanted from Luo Binghe? Victory. Proof of his ability. A chance to turn Shen Qingqiu's affections, convince him the demon wasn't worth his time and attention, that Luo Binghe wasn't as capable as he pretended to be.
Because if Luo Binghe lost once, he could lose again. And he had.
And he would again, and again, and again, until he had nothing left to lose.
***
After a week of going this way and that, hunting beasts as they cross his path to vent the unceasing vitriol in his heart, hoping to throw off Shen Qingqiu's tracking--desperately wishing he'd find him anyway--Luo Binghe finds himself back at the Northern Demon Palace, well ahead of schedule. He supposes he may as well settle a few matters here before he heads off again. He'll need to be quick if he is to avoid Shen Qingqiu, who will eventually arrive to find him. Or so he hopes. Shizun always has other things--other people--to distract him from searching for his wayward disciple.
The time alone has given Luo Binghe a chance to calm himself. His mind has only just stopped breaking to pieces and hasn't even begun to mend. The situation is precarious, but without Xin Mo's added influence, there's much less of a chance that he will instigate the world's end this time.
The demons on guard duty leap up in startled terror, greeting him with a respectful salute.
"J-J-Junshang! Junshang has arrived!" one of them announces loudly, probably to alert his comrades within the building of his imminent presence. He hears the squawk of a flustered unit on the other side of the doors as they no doubt form up to properly receive him.
"Is Mobei-Jun around?"
"Mobei-Jun is attending to his consort. We shall send for him immediately."
Upon hearing this, Luo Binghe decides he won't stay after all. He can't have Shang Qinghua mentioning his whereabouts to Shen Qingqiu. Not yet. Not when he's still torn up and raw and unable to sort through the mess within his mind.
"No, don't bother. Just let him know I might be gone longer than expected."
"Yes, Junshang!"
The Demon Emperor makes to leave, only to be called back before he can even turn around.
"Wait, Junshang! Your, ah, guests are still waiting to see you!"
Luo Binghe glares at the guard with narrowed eyes. "What guests?"
The guard trembles quite obviously, glancing around for help under the demon lord's dominating gaze. "Th-they said they would wait as long as it took!"
"What. Guests?"
"They-they didn't give their names!" the other guard squeaks. The one with shaking knees nods vigorously. "They insisted!"
Luo Binghe snorts. "Then tell them they'll be waiting a long time."
"Is this master truly so contemptible that his disciple refuses to see him?" An unmistakable voice calls out from behind Luo Binghe.
He twists around with wide eyes.
"Shizun?" This is not part of the plan. Not that there was a plan to begin with, but had there been one, this isn't how it should have gone.
Shen Qingqiu isn't alone. Liu Qingge stands beside him, glaring with his arms crossed. It's a surprise he hasn't already started rampaging, surrounded on all sides by demons. Luo Binghe faintly wonders if the brand of his teeth--his fangs--still mark his collarbone, or if he'd healed it away as quickly as he could out of sheer disgust.
"We need to talk," Shen Qingqiu states, in a tone that brooks no compromise.
Luo Binghe feels trapped. He cannot bear to disobey a direct order from his master, not after he's been such a disappointment to him as of late. Fists clenching, he looks down, tearing his unworthy eyes from the most beautiful man he's ever known, and doesn't startle when Liu Qingge's boots enter his lowered field of view. After a moment of hesitation, the Peak Lord in white grabs him by the arm, as if to restrain him. His grip is surprisingly gentle, but firm.
"No more running," the man says gruffly, then tugs him along, fingers clamped around his elbow, following Shen Qingqiu.
The walk to the Demon Emperor's private quarters is fraught with tension, thick in the air and hard to swallow. Liu Qingge doesn't let of him go the entire way, his hand warm where he grasps Luo Binghe's sleeve. Luo Binghe wishes he would tighten his grip, leave a bruise that won't go away. Or perhaps that Liu Qingge would return the favor from their last fight, claw open Luo Binghe's skin and mark him, permanently, the way Shen Qingqiu has done twice over already.
When they finally arrive and Liu Qingge pushes him into a seat, still perplexingly gentle, they sit in silence. After several moments, Shen Qingqiu excuses himself to fetch some tea, stating they will be needing it.
Ah. Luo Binghe has failed in his duties yet again. How unfilial. How unworthy.
He and Liu Qingge sit in silence, one finally cowed by the full force of his shame for once, the other stiff and angry and likely rankled at having to attend to his worst enemy acting like a petulant, runaway child.
Luo Binghe may be an adult, he may be the tallest and the broadest and the strongest, but inside, he still feels like the young boy in the mud grasping at any and all signs of kindness, of care, of being wanted, only to have it ripped out of his bloody, shredded hands when they realize he's too much. This is it, Luo Binghe thinks. It's only been a week and they're both upset at him and already tired of his antics.
"Binghe," Shen Qingqiu's soft whisper croons, not breaking the silence but gliding gently through it, his thumbs smoothing over Luo Binghe's cheekbones. When had he returned?
Belatedly, Luo Binghe realizes the blurriness of his vision, the catch of his lungs as he sobs, the wetness on his cheeks. Shen Qingqiu sits beside him, wiping away his tears as he patiently coos and coaxes.
Unable to stop himself, Luo Binghe grabs Shizun's hands and holds them where they are against his cheeks, shutting his eyes and letting out sob after shaking sob as he buries himself in their tender warmth, thumbs still brushing away the wet tracks of his overabundant tears. His lover's hands tug him gently to his shoulder, wrapping around Luo Binghe's torso and rubbing soothingly across his back.
How can Shen Quingqiu stand to be so kind to him even now? How is he so perfect and so wonderful? Luo Binghe truly is a stain on his reputation, on his very life. He would have been far better off had they never met.
Eventually, the tears stop, and Luo Binghe's heart-rending sobbing peters out into muffled hiccups. He clings like a leech to Shen Qingqiu's robes, the pale green fabric darkened with his tears. He doesn't ever want to let go. This may be the last chance he gets to be so intimate, after all. And yet he must.
Is that why Shen Qingqiu is being so lenient now? Because he knows things are coming to an end? The thought wrenches another sob out of the half-demon.
"Now, now," Shen Qingqiu soothes, pulling Luo Binghe back into a close embrace and sighing into his curls. "Is Binghe ready to talk?"
No. He'll never be ready for this. But he acquiesces anyway, because he can't bring himself to disappoint Shen Qingqiu any more than he already has.
Liu Qingge shifts uneasily in his seat across from them. Luo Binghe is surprised he had the gall to stay even through such an emotional breakdown, without once making a snide or disparaging comment like Luo Binghe would have done were their positions reversed. But the gesture sparks an ember within him. If he had the energy, he'd rationalize the feeling into some slight of humiliation against himself, or some sort of reason to fight over Shen Qingqiu. But Liu Qingge is too honorable for that, should be too honorable to stay and witness two lovers' tender embrace. As it is, Luo Binghe is too emotionally exhausted to do anything but admit to himself that he's happy Liu Qingge is still here at all. He winces weakly at the thought, flinches away from the root at its center, willfully avoiding it.
"I know these feelings may be hard to accept," Shizun begins when Luo Binghe cannot. "But surely your Liu-shishu isn't that objectionable as a partner."
Luo Binghe's heart sinks. Is his master so eager to replace him with the other Peak Lord that he can't spare him even a few more moments?
"He... told you?" Luo Binghe asks, instinctively clutching Shen Qingqiu's sleeve more tightly.
Liu Qingge goes stiff in his seat. The slight motion catches in his peripheral vision, drawing his curiosity. Did his confession... not go well? Luo Binghe hates that such an idea sets his heart alight with hope.
"Do you think this master is blind? I figured it out for myself!" Shen Qingqiu retorts.
"And your answer?" Luo Binghe hates even more the fragility in his voice.
Shen Qingqiu blinks. "My answer?"
Luo Binghe blinks back, feeling as if he's been dunked in thick, gooey tree sap, dulling his senses and his mind. He glances over to Liu Qingge, who is blushing deeply.
"I haven't told him," the Bai Zhan Peak Lord admits, his eyes steadily meeting Luo Binghe's despite the redness of his cheeks. "Yet," he adds, as if that explains anything about the current situation.
Luo Binghe is missing something.
"What are we discussing, exactly?" he asks, drawing out each word as his mind frantically tries to catch up, the job of repairing the crumbling walls holding back his self-recriminations momentarily forgotten as he tries to reorient himself.
The other two trade a glance. Liu Qingge seems almost helpless and floundering. Shen Qingqiu clears his throat.
"This master is not uninformed about some particulars of demonic courting," he says haltingly, flapping open his fan and hiding behind it.
"Demonic courting," Luo Binghe repeats, still wading through the syrupy goo coating his mind. His eyes flick back to meet Liu Qingge's, who is somehow even more flushed, but not surprised. "You believe I am attempting to court... someone. In the demonic fashion."
Shen Qingqiu nods, eyes darting to the side toward Liu Qingge. Luo Binghe notes the barely-hidden sour look on his face. Is he jealous? Of-?
"You think I have... feelings... for Liu Qingge? That I have been courting him?"
The man in question finally averts his eyes at his conclusion. Shen Qingqiu makes a vaguely affirmative noise, fluttering his fan. He doesn't even try to correct Luo Binghe's disrespectful language.
Luo Binghe needs a moment.
His first instinct is to deny it vehemently, to protest that only Shen Qingqiu holds a place in his heart. To obscure that second, fragile, pale, unbloomed lotus sprouting in his chest so that he might tear it out by the roots later, alone and safe from scrutiny and speculation.
Luo Binghe's second instinct is to stop and consider.
Could he even do that? That flower wormed its way into the swampy mire of his heart like a weed, stubbornly taking root despite the hostile conditions, much like the man who inspired them, their tendrils so entangled he couldn't cut them out without cutting out a part of himself. Five, long, lonely years had taken their toll on the both of them, forced them both into an understanding that no one else could comprehend.
There is something else he must know. "Shizun, how do demons perform courtship?"
Shen Qingqiu stares at him, wide-eyed and blinking. "Surely Binghe must know?"
"This disciple has only ever wanted to court Shizun. There was no reason to learn the courtship of demons when Shizun is a human."
In the corner of his eye, he sees Liu Qingge's shoulders drop. Whether out of relief or something else, Luo Binghe cannot tell.
"What actions of mine resemble demonic overtures?" Luo Binghe presses.
Shen Qingqiu's eyes turn up toward a corner as he recalls. "Well... you beat him up whenever you see him. You're constantly harassing him for attention when you can't just fight him. And the last time you did fight, you bit him."
"And these are all indicators of... interest?"
Shen Qingqiu mutters something incomprehensible to himself about flying machines, then returns his attention to their conversation. "According to my... research, demons express romantic interest through bullying the objects of their affections, as a way of testing their resilience and strength."
Oh.
Oh.
Luo Binghe is forcefully reminded of his second-in-command's advice to "beat up Shizun three times a day" and feels as though he needs to dump a bucket of icy water over himself. He'd disregarded it at the time because it hadn't been any help in his pursuit of Shen Qingqiu, but it seems he should have at least remembered it.
"And... Shizun and Shishu both knew this?"
Shen Qingqiu gives a humorless laugh. "This master informed Liu-shidi that this might be the case some time ago."
"Shishu?" Liu Qingge still refuses to meet either of their eyes. "You kept coming back, despite thinking I was...?"
This is what finally breaks Liu Qingge's silence. "It's not as if I thought you meant it!"
Oh. Of course.
Luo Binghe cannot stop himself from laughing. It starts off as a dry scoff, then another tumbles up his throat and past his lips and in short order he's having trouble breathing.
Of course not. What reason would Liu Qingge have to believe he might draw Luo Binghe's attentions after his very public obsession with his Shizun?
Luo Binghe thinks he might have actually gone mad. Because only a madman would fall in love with the man who loves his own lover. Only a mad demon would act be so greedy as to covet that pure, devoted passion for himself.
All this time, he's been fighting against himself, against his own instincts, born of a part of himself he hates and yet would never have survived without. Liu Qingge, loving Luo Binghe, returning his wretched, demonic affections? He's lucky he hasn't been run through by Cheng Luan for the mere thought.
Luo Binghe doesn't realize his laughter has turned back into more sobs until he feels soft fabric grazing below his eyes, catching the tears as they fall.
Shen Qingqiu smiles tenderly at him as he dries Luo Binghe's tears yet again.
"This master understands," he says, agonizingly soft, "Binghe has needs that I alone cannot fulfill."
Luo Binghe wants to protest that Shen Qingqiu is all he's ever wanted and needed, but his Shizun is right. He needs Liu Qingge to love him back. To challenge him, to push him to his limits, and be pushed right back, something he couldn't bear to do to Shen Qingqiu, who deserves every softness, every act of service Luo Binghe can muster. The demon in him is insatiable, so greedy, so gluttonous, wanting more when he already has everything.
Liu Qingge makes an uncomfortable hum as he watches them from across the low table, resignation evident in the crease of his brow and the downturn of his lips. Is he disappointed? Does he think Shen Qingqiu does not love and desire him? Does Luo Binghe dare hope otherwise?
"I thought maybe..." the War God begins, then sighs, squaring his jaw and looking directly into Luo Binghe's eyes. "If it's truly something you don't want, then say it now and stop the... the courting."
Stop courting Liu Qingge? Unthinkable. Luo Binghe lets loose a low, reverberating snarl at the idea. Liu Qingge tenses, pulling back, a hurt expression on his face, clearly taking the response for a resounding rejection.
New revelations slot into place, oozing like so much sticky sap, nudging the pieces of Luo Binghe's mind and heart back into order and binding them in place, filament-thin roots creeping over and around them like a cage to hold it all together.
"No," Luo Binghe snaps before he can stop himself. "You're mine."
A hand clutches at his sleeve, loosening an instant later. Luo Binghe swivels around just in time to catch Shen Qingqiu's carefully blank mask slip into place, the one he uses when he's overwhelmed and pretending not to be. He opens his mouth to speak, lips tightened in an insincere smile.
Luo Binghe's heart softens. "Ours," he amends, before Shizun can talk his way into whatever untruth he's trying to convince himself of.
Two pairs of startled eyes blink at him, one shocked, the other panicked.
"Do you not wish to court Shishu as well, Shizun? Have you not repeatedly called him a beautiful man and a peerless warrior, or envied the lucky woman who would catch his eye?"
Liu Qingge twitches, stunned, eyes staring wide at Shen Qingqiu in desperate hope.
But Shen Qingqiu is silent, his words strangled in his throat as he struggles to piece together his thoughts, his horrified mortification visible in his eyes. Eventually, he relents, shoulders sagging as he shields his thin face with his fan once more. Eyes averted, he tucks his chin to his chest and admits, as if it is being tortured out of him, "This master... is not... opposed to the idea of courting Liu-shidi. Together. If that is what Binghe wants."
"It is," Luo Binghe says at once, straightening up in his seat, heart pounding. "Truly, Shizun? You wish to court Shishu together?"
"If Liu-shidi is willing to accept us," he assents, demurely glancing over at the man.
Liu Qingge looks devastated, strained, as if someone has wrung out all the strength in him. He does not look overjoyed to hear this admission of requital. Perhaps he is still processing it, or...?
At his continued silence, Luo Binghe snaps, with a hard, accusatory edge, "Has Shishu's heart turned from its first love so easily? This lord was under the impression that Shishu was devoted enough to battle me every day for years for Shizun's corpse, if not his favor. I will not accept a man who no longer loves Shizun as dearly as I do."
"Binghe!" Shen Qingqiu scolds, though Luo Binghe notes his faint blush.
Liu Qingge exhales a measured breath, calm despite his discomfiture, and finally gives his answer. "I didn't think you would..." he starts before trailing off. He shakes his head then starts again. "My feelings remained unchanged." He glances quickly at the other Peak Lord, then returns his gaze to Luo Binghe. He opens his mouth, his flush deepening. "I never hoped, never thought either of you would ever look at anyone else, let alone me."
Luo Binghe stares dumbly. Had he heard that correctly?
Shizun recovers first, although he still has a look of wonder on his face. "Is Liu-shidi saying he's harbored feelings for Binghe and this master for some time?"
Mutely, Liu Qingge gives them a single, decisive nod, eyes trained on his own lap.
Luo Binghe can only blink, turning to Shen Qingqiu, who returns his awed silence.
"...You weren't the only one mourning for years," Liu Qingge reminds them. "I saw how much loss and grief hurt you both. I tried... I wanted to help."
Their eyes meet. Luo Binghe sees the steely resolution in Liu Qingge's, and wonders what the man sees in his.
"I came back every day for the both of you, not just Shen Qingqiu," says Luo Binghe's Shishu, simply, as if he isn't shattering the last of what Luo Binghe thought he knew to be true of him.
Once again, his infernal, neverending tears obscure Luo Binghe's vision, turning the beautiful man sitting across from him blurry, a figure wrapped in the pristine white of a blooming lotus, surrounded by the dark hues of his bedroom furniture like so much muddy water.
"Shishu," he begs, not knowing for what.
His warped vision shifts and mutates, but a few moments later he hears quiet shuffling, and feels another warm presence at his side.
Luo Binghe can imagine him hovering, unsure what to do, but still determined to do something. His tears fall and his vision clears, and beside him Liu Qingge does hover, hands reaching out but not touching, face stricken with uncertainty and concern. A green sleeve guides him closer by the elbow, and Liu Qingge himself closes the distance by wrapping his arms around the trembling demon lord. As if emboldened by the touch, Lui Qingge pulls him even closer, tucking his fluffy curls under his chin and squeezing tight as Luo Binghe squeezes back. There they remain, holding each other, until one of them pulls an arm free to drag Shen Qingqiu into the wet, shivering embrace.
"I'm here," Liu Qingge says, quiet as a whisper. "I'll come back for you as many times as you need me to."
For a long time, Luo Binghe sobs silently.
***
Once his endless tears are finally dried, they sit again at another, smaller table, an equal, intimate distance from each other across the round surface. Liu Qingge has lost his nerve, steadfastly staring into the lacquered wood with grim determination, but Shen Qingqiu has surprisingly rallied, smiling serenely and unreservedly at the other two, no fan in sight.
Luo Binghe pours each of them a new cup of freshly brewed tea, steam drifting up in lazy coils and hazing the air between them.
Shen Qingqiu takes a sip and sighs in contentment. "Binghe's tea is the best," he remarks wistfully, as he sometimes does.
Without hesitation, Liu Qingge nods in agreement, sipping from his own cup.
Luo Binghe modestly accepts his praise, and once again asks, "Shishu is certain? He desires this Luo Binghe, as much as he does Shizun?"
It has been less than half a shichen since he'd last asked, but Luo Binghe cannot let it rest until he is assured, something that may take months, perhaps years. Always expecting a different answer; that one day, he will overstep and his hand reaching out is slapped away and back into the mud.
"I am," Liu Qingge answers at once, for the third time, for as many times Luo Binghe or Shen Qingqiu for that matter will ask. This time, however, he adds, "I don't know when it started. Probably during..." His eyes dart back over to Shen Qingqiu, then back down to his teacup. "But I didn't realize it until after Maigu Ridge. Finding the two of you in each other's embrace... I knew."
"And yet you came back. You challenged me again," Luo Binghe prompts, the demon within him ever desirous of hearing how much he was wanted, coveted, beloved, worthy.
"Mn. At first, I just wanted to be sure you were both happy. I never intended to stay long after that."
"But you did," Shen Qingqiu remarks, refilling Liu Qingge's empty cup. "You kept coming back."
Liu Qingge shares a long, searching look with Luo Binghe, loss and longing buried deep within his eyes.
"If exchanging blows with Luo Binghe was the only way I could see you both alive and well, I would have done so until my dying breath."
"And that, of course, had nothing to do with pretending my unintentional demonic flirting was real."
Liu Qingge's blushes are quite revealing, Luo Binghe thinks. He can't wait to nibble on those enticingly reddened ears, and see where else he blushes so prettily.
"Hadn't you thought to simply ask?" Shizun quips, pulling Luo Binghe out of his indecent thoughts. "An Ding Peak has a running tab for Qing Jing's restorations bills because of all your flirting."
Luo Binghe lets out a soft chuckle. The two Peak Lords turn to him at his satisfied sigh, a questioning look in their eyes.
"Perhaps this disciple should have poured wine for us to exchange tonight, instead of tea," he muses, eyes crinkling at the startled spluttering of his lovers.
One day, he has no doubt he will.