Chapter Text
So Shang Qinghua and Mobei Jun got engaged.
It was very private, just the two of them, and all kinds of uneventful, unlike the other milestones of their relationship.
It was so uneventful, it went exactly like so:
Mobei Jun slid a velvet box across Shang Qinghua’s work desk. Shang Qinghua called marriage a scam but agreed anyway because, hell, what else is he supposed to do when his dream guy and the love of all his lives—who is an actual literal demon king with unfathomable riches, which he lets Shang Qinghua’s grabby little hands touch all over, and a whole kingdom he practically put him in charge of granting him immense power over its subjects—asks to marry him? Say no? Psh. Get real.
It’s been a while since then, and the engagement period is shaping up to be a long one by this universe’s standards. The running gag is that it’s because Shang Qinghua doesn’t want to go through the hassle of event planning or the paperwork for it, and has only finally started the wedding preparations just so he can officially be granted the powers of the Northern Consort, chief among them being the ability to regulate body temperature. The allegations aren’t wrong (who wants to go through all the trouble of more paperwork and planning a royal function, ah??), but…they’re not entirely true either.
Alright. The real reason Shang Qinghua hasn’t gotten around to the wedding preparations and has spent the better part of the past—eehhh, give or take three years or so—dilly-dallying about is because…well, he wants to be fully honest with Mobei Jun about everything.
And by that, he means fully honest. About everything.
See, Shang Qinghua figured that if he’s gonna get married—if they’re gonna get married—he wants that union to be built on trust and honesty. He doesn’t want to end up like his parents in his first life or any of the couples he wrote in PIDW.
Like, yeah, sure, Mobei Jun fully trusts him now and believes in Shang Qinghua blindly because, in his king’s words, ‘Qinghua always knows best,’ and Shang Qinghua…well, he wants to be worthy of that trust and loyalty. After all, there will surely come a time when Mobei Jun will not do as he’s told and question Shang Qinghua, and what will he do then? What if it’s a life and death situation? What will ‘All Knowing Shang Qinghua’ say or do then? Shang Qinghua is many things, but naive is far from one of them.
“That will never happen,” Mobei Jun declares after Shang Qinghua’s speedy but still lengthy prelude to the current discussion. “I will never question, Qinghua.”
“You don’t know that, my king!” Shang Qinghua insists, a little annoyed at the demon’s flippant tone, but endeared and also a little scared by the weight of his words. “Besides, what if it’s not me? Like, an impostor or something. How will you know the one telling you to do something is really this Qinghua?”
“I will know.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Qinghua,” Mobei Jun levels him with a look. “I will know.”
He says it with such conviction that it’s got Shang Qinghua floored for a bit. He wants to be angry at Mobei Jun for seemingly not taking this as seriously as he wants him to, but—ugh! How can he when Mobei Jun speaks about him as if he knows him to his very core—which he doesn’t! Ironically! Unfortunately! And thus, the whole reason for this discussion.
“Well, fine. Okay,” Shang Qinghua sighs in resignation. He supposes his king does know him on a deeper level than most, having been well-acquainted and always being by each other for nearly half a century or so. Still, it doesn’t hurt to be sure. After all, Shang Qinghua did not survive this long by just leaving things up to chance and fate. “But just in case, okay?”
“Qinghua,” Mobei Jun sighs from where he’s already lounging on their bed. “What is this really about?”
“My king,” Shang Qinghua starts and swallows, feeling his heart beat speed up. “I’m afraid this Qinghua has not been fully honest with you.”
At his words, Mobei Jun’s demeanor shifts, and his face darkens. “What do you mean?” he growls lowly.
Shang Qinghua immediately backtracks. “I didn’t mean it like that! I didn’t mean it like I betrayed you or anything! Never! You know I would rather throw myself into the Abyss than betray you, my king!”
The demon relaxes. In truth, even if Shang Qinghua betrays him, Mobei Jun doesn’t think his feelings for him would change all that much. He knows in himself that he would still love Shang Qinghua, no matter how unfortunate the outcome may be. A foolish and dangerous thing for a demon of his stature, for sure. Still, he supposes he feels that way because he knows the man would sooner banish himself from this world than hurt Mobei Jun, as he had demonstrated more than once before.
“If it is not that, then what is there to talk about?”
“My king, it’s about me. The real me. It’s important, okay? But, I—” Here, Shang Qinghua starts to gnaw at his bottom lip and wring his arms together. “I don’t know where to start.”
Whatever it is about, the anxiety is clear on his face, and Mobei Jun doesn’t like seeing him uncomfortable. He decides to grant them both mercy and give Shang Qinghua an out.
“If Qinghua does not want to say it, then he should not force himself. Whatever it is, he can tell this king when he is ready.”
But, of course, Shang Qinghua is a stubborn one.
“No, no, no. It has to be now,” he insists, plopping on the edge of his side of the bed. “Before your mind is fully made up about marrying me.”
“It has already been made up. I have wanted to marry Shang Qinghua since he agreed to be mine,” Mobei Jun insists, a different brand of stubborn himself. “And we would have been married by now if only Shang Qinghua had not dawdled and stretched the engagement.”
“Yeah, well.” Shang Qinghua mutters and doesn’t bother dignifying the demon’s dig any more than that as he steers them back on track. “We’ll see about that after you hear what I’m about to say.”
“No, it will not,” Mobei-Jun asserts, well-attuned by now by Shang Qinghua’s low mutterings, enhanced demon hearing besides. “Whatever Qinghua says, nothing will change this Mobei Jun’s mind about marrying him.”
“Ugh! You’re really making this so much more harder, my king!”
“Then let us not talk about it and just come to bed.” He pats the space beside him. “Besides, the seating charts have been finalized, and the invitations have already been sent out.”
Fuck! He’s right! And they worked so fucking hard on that damned seating chart, too! Why couldn’t he have done this before they started planning the wedding? Or at least before an official declaration was made and the invitations sent out?? Why is he such an idiot?? No, wait! Maybe he can still have them recalled if what he’s about to do ends up badly. Really badly. He can just—
In the midst of the makings of a mental breakdown, Mobei Jun then removes his robes and lies on the bed in a manner he knows Shang Qinghua finds…alluring.
“I—”
Shang Qinghua stutters as his mind blanks at the sight of Mobei Jun’s bare chest and torso, and the demon smirks. It’s been known to work wonders in making Shang Qinghua’s thought process cease and have him just where Mobei Jun wants him to be. He knows the precise moment Shang Qinghua has already forgotten what he was talking about and is just counting the seconds until his lips would—
“No! My king! Stop it!”
But not tonight, it seems.
Shang Qinghua shakes himself and makes the truly Herculean effort to drag his eyes higher to stare at Mobei Jun’s face instead, not that it’s any less distracting.
“Quit distracting me! I promise this is important, okay? Now, come and sit with me here for a moment.” Shang Qinghua pulls Mobei Jun up by his arm before throwing back his robes at him. “And put on your robes! Your…everything distracts me!”
Mobei Jun rolls his eyes but does as he’s told, ending up indulging Shang Qinghua as he so often does.
“Just listen, okay? I will consider this your wedding gift,” he says, and then puts up a hand when Mobei Jun scowls and opens his mouth to retaliate. “Okay! One of what I am sure will be many wedding gifts. Aish, my king. So extravagant.”
“It is customary to shower the consort-to-be with as many gifts as the king deems.”
“Yeah, you can decide if you want to do that still after you hear what this one has to say.”
“Qinghua—”
“No, let me just—” Shang Qinghua bites his lip and takes a deep breath. “This is me giving you a chance to really think about whether you want to wed this Shang Qinghua, okay, my king? I am giving you an out, of sorts. If you decide you don’t want anything to do with me after this, I will bear you no ill will and receive whatever punishment or retribution my king shall see fit.”
Mobei Jun stares at the human before him, understanding finally gleaming in his eyes that whatever this matter is, it is something really important to Shang Qinghua, and how much it has been weighing on him. His hands move to take one of Shang Qinghua’s own gently, noticing that they are clammy and sweaty, and his pulse is beating faster than normal.
“You can just not tell me if it is this hard for you,” Mobei Jun repeats, extending the same consideration that Shang Qinghua claims he is giving him. “You can tell me when you are ready. It does not matter when. I will still want you.”
“We’re going in circles, my king,” Shang Qinghua sighs, but it is a fond sigh, one that holds a lot of regret in it as well, because when he finally says the truth and Mobei Jun finally understands who and what he is, he will miss feeling this wanted and loved.
“That is because Qinghua cannot get it through his head that this Mobei Jun will still choose him, will still love him, want him, and need him no matter what.” Mobei Jun leans in and plants a soft kiss on his beloved’s crown. It makes the back of Shang Qinghua’s eyes sting, and his throat tighten. “It does not matter what he has done or who he really claims he is to be. Qinghua will always be Qinghua to me.”
Shang Qinghua leans forward and lets himself cling to Mobei Jun’s solid frame, breathes him in, and blinks away the tears pooling in his eyes.
“I really do love you, you know? My absolute favorite.” Always was, and always will be. “Out of all my creations, of all the things I’ve written and imagined, you are my most favorite and my most beloved.”
Mobei Jun freezes when Shang Qingua’s words finally sink in.
“...What?”
Shang Qinghua gives himself three beats before pushing off Mobei Jun and daring to look at him. Funny how the words just spilled out of his mouth so easily and so naturally.
Because it is nothing short of a fact, Shang Qinghua loves Mobei Jun above anyone and anything, and in that lies the truth behind who he really is.
So he takes a deep breath and utters the rest of his confession, the final nail in the coffin of the best thing that has ever happened to him, “I created this world, my king.”
Shang Qinghua’s next words are a slew of apologies and explanations, all hastily and clumsily spilling out of his mouth like a damn waterfall. He’s not even sure if he’s making any sense—he’s pretty sure he’s not making any sense—and along with the fear of confessing, he also dreads that Mobei Jun wouldn’t understand any of the things he’s saying, and thinks this is just a scheme to get out of the wedding, which it is not at all! If anything, this is him making sure that their marriage—if it is still on after this, fucking hell—starts on the right foundation of trust and honesty.
So Shang Qinghua tells Mobei Jun that he is the creator of their world—this world. Apologizes profusely and repeatedly, first of all, for being the one responsible for all his suffering and loneliness as a child and princeling. He knows that he is unworthy of his king, has never been, nor will he ever be, and that he…will understand if Mobei Jun decides to…be rid of him.
The words get caught up in his throat as a sob threatens to break out, but Shang Qinghua swallows it down.
He reasons that the world they live in is the way it is now because Shang Qinghua had to fulfill the whims of the ones who govern him (his readers) lest he suffer the consequences (poverty and destitution). However, he recognizes that he still did all that he’d done for selfish reasons (survival).
“I…have lived multiple lives. I have lived a past life and an alternative version of this world where I…met my end earlier on,” Shang Qinghua hedges, deciding to leave out the part of the OG Shang Qinghua’s original fate. “In the modern wo—I mean, in my past life, I was…an accident. An unwanted child of a failed union. And maybe…maybe that’s why I have selfishly projected that unpleasantness when I was creating this world and everything in it.”
The hierarchy of the PIDW universe is mostly patterned after every other xianxia novel he knows, but the distinct suffering and unfortunate circumstances of every character he has ever written were his own unique brand of twisted imagination. After all, how can he know that they’ll be real? Never in his wildest dreams did he ever think his writing would take a life of its own and suck him in to live through all the horrors he’s typed in his shitty second-hand laptop to move the plot along, of all things.
“It also explains why I am…the way I am.” Mobei Jun blinks and raises his brows minutely, the first reaction out of him since the truth about his and his world’s existence was revealed. Shang Qinghua swallows and continues, “You’ve noticed, right? How I always braced myself to intervene whenever some of my martial siblings who are, ah, of the old beliefs and non-believers of the treaty between the human and demon realm are in the same room as you? That I am easily startled and terribly jumpy? It’s not just from my unnaturally highly caffeinated teas or the, uhh, herbs I sometimes get from Mu-shidi’s Qian Cao Peak.”
Shang Qinghua is always mindful to close doors quietly and does his best not to flinch when someone slams them, but it’s obvious from how rigid his shoulders get. He is an expert in conflict resolution and can sense an impending confrontation a mile away because when one grows up where food and money are often short, but arguments are always aplenty, one gets used to being around the constant tense air of near violence. His first instinct is to placate and never shout because shouting never solved anything and just breeds more misunderstanding and almost always leads to a fight.
And so Xiang Fei, child of divorce, likes to keep the peace, and as Shang Qinghua, schemes his way into anything and everything, no matter how underhanded, no matter who or what is destroyed in the process to ensure his survival.
“Maybe that is why this one had been made to be a lowly servant in this life, my king. Just mere canon fodder. Doomed to forever toil away and heed others’ commands as punishment for my poor worldbuilding and the sufferings I’ve caused.”
Shang Qinghua lets out a shaky exhale and starts to wring his fingers, a nervous habit he’s always had ever since he was called Xiang Fei and never shaken off. Usually, Mobei Jun will reach out as soon as he’s noticed, but the demon remains mum by his side, and it’s making him more nervous, so he’s started picking at his nails.
“I know this world, the way I wrote it, has ruined a lot of lives—or well, I also wrote their lives really shitty—but I promise I didn’t mean to! I just—it was what I used to do for a living.” Not that he was making enough to live off of it comfortably, if at all, but it still put food on his table and was enough to pay rent and keep the electricity and the water running. “My king, I…this lowly one would understand if you would want nothing to do with him. Whatever punishment my king sees fit, I—”
Shang Qinghua cuts off and shuts his mouth with an audible click when he chances a look at Mobei Jun and sees the expression on his face.
Mobei Jun is just…silent. Dead silent. His face looks so still and stoic that it doesn’t betray any hints of what he’s thinking or his feelings on the matter. It hasn’t even been a full minute since Shang Qinghua finished his—what? Confession? Admission of guilt and contrition for his heinous crimes?—and already it feels like an eternity and a half. He doesn’t know why Mobei Jun isn’t saying or doing anything. He should be shouting! Angry beyond measure! He should be throwing Shang Qinghua in the dungeons or banished out in the blizzard, at the very least, exiled from the North! Better yet! He should’ve striked Shang Qinghua right then and there and ripped him to shreds!
Shang Qinghua wishes Mobei Jun would just lash out and deal him the blows he deserves. Anything will be better than his stony silence.
“M-my king?” Shang Qinghua squeaks out. “Haha. Please say something, I’m…hahaha…I’m kinda dying here…hahahaaa…”
More silence passes, and just when Shang Qinghua feels he’s going to qi deviate from anxiety and tension, Mobei Jun finally speaks.
“I see,” is all the demon says, and his calmness about everything that has just been out to him makes Shang Qinghua feel like he’s going to have a conniption. “Thank you for telling this king.”
That’s it? No…shouting or screaming or threats of violence of any kind? just ‘I see’ and ‘Thank you?’
Shang Qinghua is so confused and wound up tight by the turn of events that when Mobei Juns moves, his instinct makes him flinch violently. The demon pauses before continuing to lean towards Shang Qinghua to plant a devastatingly gentle kiss on his temple. Then, he moves to his side of the bed under the covers and lightly tugs at Shang Qinghua to do the same before turning off the lights.
Mobei Jun does not retreat nor turn his back on Shang Qinghua, but he doesn’t pull him close either, like he does every night. Shang Qinghua lies awake long after slumber has claimed Mobei Jun, feeling hollow and with his heart in his throat, a whole lot confused by the lack of reaction and in complete disbelief at how the demon could sleep so easily despite his revelation.
Sleep doesn’t come to Shang Qinghua until much later, in the wee hours of a new day, when Mobei Jun has swung an arm over to pull him close. Weary and emotionally spent, Shang Qinghua bites back a sob, closes his eyes shut as he allows himself to sink into his king’s embrace, maybe for the last time, and lets sleep finally claim him.
When morning comes, and the sunlight filtering through the slits of their chamber’s heavy curtains hits his eyes, Shang Qinghua is not surprised to find himself alone in the bed.
“Fuck,” Shang Qinghua whispers as he feels his throat close up, and the back of his eyes sting. Great. Now here comes the waterworks. “Fuck.”