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It really wasn't his fault this time.
As An Ding Peak Lord, Shang Qinghua didn't need to overlook the comings and goings of cargo. With the one exception of when it was extremely valuable, one-of-a-kind, or too dangerous.
And Cang Qiong had just received a fuck load of those, which meant he was stuck overseeing the arrivals.
Unfortunately, one of his hall masters must've put some of his newer disciples to the task, because one moment he was standing there, counting crates and triple checking his papers, and on the next, he was pulling a disciple back by the robes and yelling a warning, a heavy box falling down on him.
He was immediately doused with a mixture of concoctions. And, as things settled, he immediately opened his mouth to issue orders to make sure his disciples were alright, and to figure out what he was doused with (Gods please, NOT a heavenly demon papapa poison! Not again!).
Only no sound came out of his lips.
He checked his papers. The crates had been labeled, and, picking through the mess around him, he caught the numbers on it. 38291-A.
38291-A. 38291-A. Ah! There it is! Oh fuck.
The Quiet Lover's Respite.
Of course. It couldn't be an easily solvable papapa plot. It had to be a love plot.
He groans, inaudibly, and begins furiously writing down instructions, thrusting them to his Head Disciple, and flies to his Leisure House.
Surely, one of his cure-alls would work, right?
Thirty minutes later, with twelve discarded cure-alls around him, he began feeling the first sign of real distress.
His voice was his work. How could he possibly work silently?! He had daily meetings with merchants, lords, sect leaders, rogue cultivators even! He can't just stop! Not to mention the work he does for Mobei-Jun!
Fuck. Mobei-Jun. How will he advise his King?
First things first, a trip to Qian Cao. Maybe Mu-shidi will be able to help.
"I'm sorry, shixiong, but The Quiet Lover's Respite has no easy fix. This shidi will need to formulate a counter poison." Mu Qingfang frowned, and started writing herbs on a separate sheet of paper for an antidote.
What should I do? He wrote, tapping on the table to get his shidi's attention. I can't work like this!
Mu Qingfang winced. "Warn Zhangmeng-shixiong, for starters, and you'll need to delegate your workload." He paused for a moment. "Shixiong could use this time in the Lingxi caves, perhaps, since he won't be able to communicate."
Thinking of how Yue Qingyuan was stuck, helplessly screaming and being destroyed inside out on those caves was enough to make a shiver go down his spine. No thanks, he thought.
He sighed, once again with no noise, and made his way to Qing Jing. Perhaps his bro would be able to help.
Shen Qingqiu wheezed. Again.
"The Quiet Lover's Respite, airplane? Really? You, of all people got doused in it?" He guffawed, and at the very least, Shang Qinghua took pleasure in being the only one to be witness to this side of his bro. "This shit is hilarious. Your whole skit is talking everyone's ears off!"
Shang Qinghua tries to whine. Letting out noises is more muscle memory than anything, but he still gets frustrated at being unable to do it.
I know!!! He writes. How will I work?! How will I warn Mobei-Jun?! I can't stay like this!
Shen Qingqiu scoffs. "I don't see why not. You're much more pleasing company like this."
Which. Ouch. He knows he talks a lot, and that Cucumber-Bro tolerates him at best, but still, hearing how he's an annoyance at best still hurts.
He hides it, of course, instead writing: Do you know any cures, Bro? Anything that would help?
Shen Qingqiu just shrugs, the complete opposite of an Immortal Master. "No."
His answer is far too short. He knows something.
But Shang Qinghua's usual method of whining and crying to get information out of him won't work. He can't write that fast, and Shen Qingqiu can easily ignore it.
Shang Qinghua sighs, defeated. And before he can think of a way to convince Shen Qingqiu to fess up, Luo Binghe emerges from the kitchen with a full tray of dinner for two.
It's his sign he's no longer welcome.
He gets up, and waves goodbye, but Shen Qingqiu is too enamored with his husband to really notice.
He flies to Qiong Ding, for a quick meeting with Yue Qingyuan, where he explains his condition.
Yue Qingyuan manages to hide the grimace well, but Shang Qinghua knows who exactly will do most of the work that is usually his, especially things that are sensitive.
He's incentivized to deal with this matter quickly. Which in Yue Qingyuan speech means Fix this immediately.
He's trying, Zhangmeng-shixiong!
And Ding is loud. It's the peak with the highest amount of disciples, and there's always at least ten important things happening there. It's logistics, so it's basically everything. They deal with normal day to day issues, as well as with traders, local and foreign lords. Not to mention that in times of war, it's An Ding that delivers supplies to the battlefield, leaving their backs open to the enemy while they travel to and fro. It's one of the reasons why An Ding has the fastest fliers around, although others would say it's because they're always flying from danger.
They're not flying from danger! They're surviving the danger, and making sure everyone else survives it long term too!
That's all to say that An Ding is always communicating with itself, be it serious affairs or sect gossip, and it all ends up in its Lord's ear.
And look. Shang Qinghua can do secrets, okay? He's aware of every secret in the mountain range, not only because he wrote it, but because people always talk when they don't think someone is listening (and also because of his spies, his babiest disciples). Besides, he's the Head Advisor for the Northern Desert, he has sooo many juicy demon secrets up his sleeves!
So it's no surprise that he hears about the latest gossip: Shang Qinghua has gone mute.
Not everyone knows the reason why yet, but the consensus is: Relief.
It hurts more than usual, to know how much people actually disliked him. Maybe because he can't laugh it off as he normally would. He's forced to sit in silence with the knowledge of others' contempt for him.
To distract himself, he works.
Form after form, letter after letter. His disciples come and go from his office, taking and bringing the scrolls as they come, along with slips of paper with their orders.
The silence drives Shang Qinghua a little crazy though. He's used to mumbling and talking to himself, and indulging his disciples in small chats. Now, though, he's forced to just smile and nod.
He feels like the penguins from Madagascar. Smile and nod.
The day ends without much fanfare. And the following week goes by in a similar fashion.
He tries some of Mu Qingfang's concoctions in the afternoons, quietly drinks tea with Cucumber on a Friday while the man talks and talks about his husband, and worries.
And then, it happens.
Cold air in his bedroom, as he's just exiting the bathtub. He hurries to wrap himself in a white inner robe. Time in ancient China had rewired his sense of propriety.
Mobei-Jun appears out of a slip in space, all cold beauty.
"Shang Qinghua." He greets, and taking his under dressed state, avoids his gaze.
Shang Qinghua nods. He knew this would happen sooner or later, so he prepared. He motions for Mobei-Jun to wait a moment and procures the scroll describing his situation from his bedside table.
My King! This servant greets you with news.
During his duties, this servant was doused with The Quiet Lover's Respite, and is thus unable to speak. As of today, all tentatives of curing this servant have been for naught.
Mu-shidi is currently looking for a cure, but without success.
Don't worry! This servant has diligently compiled any information you need regarding the Northern Desert below–
Mobei-Jun looks up. "The Quiet Lover's Respite." He grunts, and Shang Qinghua nods in response. "Shang Qinghua doesn't have a lover."
He nods again. Not that he hasn't looked for one! But unfortunately for all involved, he's irrevocably in love with Mobei-Jun, and the demon does not reciprocate. Shang Qinghua is still waiting on that bowl of noodles.
"This King understands." Mobei-Jun says, looking Shang Qinghua up and down before making himself comfortable in his bed.
???????? Hello???????
Shang Qinghua's brain is a big error noise.He can feel his face warm up at the image of Mobei-Jun, chest in full view, posing in Shang Qinghua's bed.
He shakes his head and moves to grab another sheet of paper to write his thoughts. (He's quickly running out of paper.)
My King, and then he stops. He doesn't know what to say.
Tentatively, he continues, picking his words with care.
This servant is doing his utmost best to come up with a cure. But besides having a lover to cure this servant, no other cure is known, and this servant lacks such a person. This lowly servant asks his King to understand that this servant may not be of use in the immediate and near future.
Mobei-Jun reads, and scoffs. "This King already said he understands. Come, Shang Qinghua. It is late."
Ok, he's definitely not understanding something. But it's been a week of being unable to sleep, and his King is right there in Shang Qinghua's bed, inviting him.
He folds.
Tentatively, he climbs into bed, keeping distance between him and Mobei-Jun, to which the demon scoffs and pulls him closer.
He's so confused. He's so so so confused. But his King feels surprisingly warm, he wonders if it's a snow mammal sort of thing, where they run warm and are able to endure the cold better due to body fat, but Shang Qinghua hasn't slept properly in days so he really can't bring himself to think about it.
In no time, he's asleep.
He wakes up and Mobei-Jun is nowhere in sight.
Not surprising, given that the demon has an Empire to run, after Luo Binghe all but left it on his right hand man's shoulder.
He sighs, and he still can't make any sound.
He had hoped that by at least sharing a bed with the man he loves, he would've been able to regain his voice, but alas, it was for naught. He'd definitely need a kiss.
And isn't that a thought? After fourty years in this world, Shang Qinghua has yet to kiss anyone. He remembers, as Xiang Fei, kissing, and sex, but it's been so long, and this body is so inexperienced, that it hardly matters. Regardless, he'd need a kiss from someone who loves him, and he's very short on luck in that regard.
Quite frankly, he can't remember the face or name of the last person that loved him.
His eyes sting.
At least in this condition, no one can hear him cry.
His sobs wrack him, soundlessly, but deep and painful. He's so tired of being ignored. So tired of the snide comments that he's more pleasing this way. He misses his voice. He misses being heard.
A rough hand wipes away the tears on his cheek.
Through blurry eyes he sees Mobei-Jun.
His lips form the words, My King, but seeing as no sound comes, he simply cries more.
Mutely, he lets it all go. Cries and sobs, mouths all the words he's been holding back. How much he misses speaking, how much he wants to tell him things, how lonely he is, how much he hates himself, how much he loves Mobei-Jun.
When his eyes have run dry, he notices the hand awkwardly petting his hair. He pulls back, and knows he makes for a miserable sight, with eyes puffy and red, and a runny nose.
But still, Mobei-Jun bends down and kisses him, snot and all. It's an awful kiss. Shang Qinghua wouldn't want it to be any different.
"My King." He mumbles, voice rough. And shocks himself by being able to speak, eyes widening. "My King!"
Mobei-Jun's lips quirk up. "Qinghua." He pulls Shang Qinghua closer, tucking him in his arms, face on the crook of his neck. "Mine."
Shang Qinghua's arms sneak around Mobei-Jun's waist, and he sighs in his King's arms.
He raises his head, dopey smile in his face. "You like me."
Mobei-Jun, ears flushed purple, shakes his head. "No. This King loves you."
Shang Qinghua flushes, squeaks and kisses him.
This kiss is much better than the first, but not as good as the next one, or the one after that, or the one after that, so on and so forth.
The noodles that come afterward though can use a little work.