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Wen Xiao and Zhao Yuanzhou’s exchange had bothered him far less than he’d have imagined. It made Zhuo Yichen wonder, instead, whether that sort of expression to his emotions would find its way out of his mouth or not.
For that, it had to, first, find a proper shape inside his heart. He still didn’t know how to define a feeling that made him so restless when away, so peaceful when close.
It was all the reason why he was so upset now, he could lie to himself. After what he considered enough time being together with someone, still being that unable to name his own feelings. Not that Ying Lei had ever asked him anything about that or shown to be any less content with him, regardless of Zhuo Yichen’s emotional silence.
With his back resting against the stone wall of the cave, Zhuo Yichen stared at the rough edges of more stones on the other side, alone in the dim light of the distant candles that was all that remained where, a while ago, the couple had met Princess Longyu. Pei Sijing was gone, too.
And so was Ying Lei.
The aching need of knowing why was a burning needle on Zhuo Yichen’s skin. He wanted to be a little bit angry, after being tricked and teased so mercilessly by everyone, include the person he—
He couldn’t bring himself to be any upset with Ying Lei, at all, he figured. If ever, he could be mildly annoyed only because Ying Lei had caused him to believe, for awfully long minutes, that they’d really fight over Zhao Yuanzhou’s core.
That they’d fight. That he, Zhuo Yichen, would have to fight a person he had vowed to protect, out of his sense of duty and justice. It made his mind spin with scenarios where they could really diverge and he’d have to let go of either his own beliefs or the person he so dearly—
Sighing, he fidgeted with the little furballs of his borrowed robes. Those silly things, just like Ying Lei’s hair adornments. In colors just so not what Zhuo Yichen would normally wear.
No one had asked about the robes, but the glances were so obviously full of thoughts that Zhuo Yichen could feel his blush spreading from his cheeks to the tip of his ears.
If they knew what Ying Lei meant to him, would they understand the true reason for him to be this upset? He had no one to blame, though, for something he should have been the first one to know.
It bothered him. That Ying Lei knew what he felt, how he felt, and had voiced that, more than once, so easily, so sheepishly unaware of both the grace he bestowed and the turmoil he caused by daring to be so easily sincere. By caring so much for someone so hardly lovable.
His self-blaming spiral was interrupted by the sound of footsteps, so familiar despite the more careful pace that’s usually not there.
“Zhuo-daren…” Ying Lei peeked his head at the entrance, the previous amusement replaced by something akin to sympathy. Zhuo Yichen wanted to complain about that expression alone, but how could he?
Ying Lei didn’t waste much time observing Zhuo Yichen and stepped into their hiding place, hands fidgeting with the sides of his robes. “Xiao Zhuo-daren, don’t be mad, we—”
The mere idea of letting Ying Lei feel that he wasn’t welcome there for any reason was so overwhelming that Zhuo Yichen didn’t even want to hear the explanations.
“I’m not mad,” he said, briefly looking up, reaching out to hover his hand over the other's fingers, meaning to touch but never doing so.
If Ying Lei wasn’t so used to Zhuo Yichen’s subtle nuances, maybe he wouldn’t shift and hold that unsure hand, take a step closer and plaster his chest to Zhuo Yichen’s side until he was breathing against the man’s cheek. “Don’t be mad,” he repeated in a whisper, nuzzling Zhuo Yichen’s cheek the way he’d do every time he wanted to make sure he’d gotten the man’s attention.
Zhuo Yichen’s heart was troubled for noticing the other so concerned that saying it only once hadn’t sufficed. His always so sweet Ying Lei didn’t deserve to remain there, standing in a guilt he should not have. “That’s not how I’m feeling.”
“But you’re not fine either.” Ying Lei’s pout could be felt against Zhuo Yichen’s skin, just like his warmth spreading from all the points their bodies were touching.
“I’m not.” Zhuo Yichen wanted to forget all the so real concerns he had, from how he had been tricked to his broken sword, thus forgetting his own sense of self, so he could melt into their closeness and surrender to the embrace of that balmy divine energy. “But I’m not mad,” he softened his voice, turning until the tip of their noses brushed. “Not at you.”
I’m mad at myself, but knowing that wouldn’t soothe you.
Ying Lei raised his free hand until he could caress Zhuo Yichen's hairline with his fingertips, tilting his head so that he could press his lips to the man's, dry and softer than the breathless kisses they used to exchange. “You have every right to be mad. But don't be.”
With Ying Lei's lips nibbling at his, Zhuo Yichen felt like he was being bribed. Almost coerced. If he were truly mad, perhaps that would work to make him stop being so.
What was maddening, though, was the way Ying Lei was teasing him for a proper kiss but never parting his lips when Zhuo Yichen’s tongue darted over them.
When he was starting to feel the relief from the first wet taste of Ying Lei’s mouth, the mountain god pulled away a little and used it to speak instead, “I don’t want Xiao Zhuo-daren mad, much less at me…”
The only thing Zhuo Yichen wanted to be able to let go of all the tension he had felt earlier, during the fake fight, was to kiss Ying Lei senseless, a feat made possible now that his resistance was far superior to that of a human.
“I’m not—” He was cut first by all the mischief on Ying Lei’s face, before his words.
“But I’m still going to laugh for a while…”
“You— You dare!” Zhuo Yichen surrendered to the amusement of his lover, shifting to pin Ying Lei against the stone wall, holding his wrists to the sides of his head, his body pressed flush against the shapes of the mountain god’s body, impatient mouth on his, tongue and teeth and all. Ying Lei’s smile still took a moment to fade into the kiss, submitting willingly, moaning muffled as Zhuo Yichen’s grip on his wrists tightened.
It didn't take long for Zhuo Yichen to feel the hardness against his groin, and a roll of the hips was all it took to make him aware of his own state. He couldn't lose himself to the point of letting things go too far; that spot in the cave couldn't really be called a hiding place by anyone, and at some point, someone would notice their absence. Just a little more, though, maybe it wouldn't be a problem — he always fooled himself with that sort of thought before risking it all to press Ying Lei against any surface in positions far less excusable than the one they were in now.
Leaving Ying Lei's mouth with only a groan in protest, Zhuo Yichen slid his lips along the other’s jawline, trailing down with wet kisses, teeth grazing at the soft skin of Ying Lei's neck until his ears were filled with the mountain god's low moans and whimpering.
Once there was also a trail of red marks that would have disappeared before, but now would turn a little purplish — unexpected advantages of being a yao, his actions had lingering effects — Zhuo Yichen straightened up to take Ying Lei's lips back in a kiss.
Details of the conversation they shared with Pei Sijing while watching Wen Xiao and Zhao Yuanzhou played out fragmented in his head, between being distracted by the hunger of their kisses and the sloppy rubbing of one clothed erections against the other. There was, in fact, one little thing that Zhuo Yichen wanted to get mad about, or at least try to appear mad about for a moment, certain that the mountain god wouldn't buy his pretense.
When Ying Lei was so worked up he didn't seem to be thinking about any more tricks, Zhuo Yichen pulled away, enough to speak against his lips, “Those novels you never told me about… How did you know the contents if your yeye forbade you from reading them?”
Although Ying Lei was visibly struggling to ignore the burning contact between them, he still mustered the strength for a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “Xiao Zhuo-daren, has anyone ever known how jealous of a man you are?”
Jealous. That definitely meant something more that Zhuo Yichen might have failed to consider.
"I've never had a reason to be jealous of anyone before."
“I’ve never practiced anything of what I read in those novels with anyone before…” Ying Lei said earnestly, a piece of information to himself, a revelation to Zhuo Yichen.
Upon hearing that, the man loosened his grip on the other's wrists, bringing the mountain god's hands to rest on his shoulders, his own hands descending to hold Ying Lei's waist, keeping him close.
“You really—” Until then, Zhuo Yichen had never known for sure if Ying Lei had experienced other relationships before. On one hand, it made sense that he had, given his age in real years... on the other hand, he was quite young for yao and gods.
“Shh.” The breathy sound touched Zhuo Yichen's lips before the tip of Ying Lei's tongue did, slowly running across them, but he didn't try to dive back past it, shifting to take Zhuo Yichen's lower lip between his own, nibbling languidly, lasting just long enough for him to feel the man's body in his arms undoing the tension. “I can't lend you the novels because my yeye made a big fire with them. But I can share with you everything I learnt from them..."
Zhuo Yichen had all the certainties that Ying Lei had been sharing all that for quite a while, but said nothing, glad to simply let Ying Lei kiss him again, softly, teasing him gently — truly a divine self-control to be able to, at least, ignore the way both their bodies were craving for more, not less.
It made Zhuo Yichen’s mind finally slow down.
Even with all the recent concerns and pain, the gratitude for having that was still stronger than all the turmoil — for the way Ying Lei held him, bore injuries to get the gui wood just for a chance, stood for Zhuo Yichen when all the clues pointed against him. The way the young mountain god shielded Zhuo Yichen from humiliation the best he could, taking that upon himself without a word of complaint.
It'd have been easier to be powerful in a way he could sustain or shatter the foundations of Kunlun Gate alone, and so knowledgeable that any lack in his powers could be compensated by all the resources his mind would be aware of — if only he were older, if only he had spent more time cultivating in the mountains instead of cooking to make people happy — thus offering something that seemed to be much, seemed to be big, but cost truly nothing. Ying Lei offered his heart and dignity, that would cost him too much, regardless of the moment of his existence. Zhuo Yichen repeatedly accepted that, first willing to learn, then aware of the price. Afraid of the day Ying Lei would so promptly take injuries he couldn't afford, simply because he could not avoid it when his heart demanded him to put others first. He'd bleed himself to try to heal the wounds of those he loved.
And for that, Zhuo Yichen feared, like he feared really few things in his life.
At other times, such thoughts would have made him hold Ying Lei tighter, as if that would keep him safe where it belonged only to them. But not now. He needed to slow down, and he knew the young mountain god was tired from his comings and goings trying to help everyone, even if he never complained.
So, Zhuo Yichen simply raised his hands, reaching for the reddish-golden strands braided into a bun. Now he knew very well how the other did and undid it; he himself had undone it so many times that he could just slip his fingers between the strands and loosen them in a few effortless movements in all the points where they were tied. Still in their tender kisses, Zhuo Yichen hummed, content for finally being able to touch that hair and comb the strands with his fingers.
When they pulled away, Ying Lei kept his fingers entwined in Zhuo Yichen's hair at the nape of his neck, gently stroking it, mimicking the pace in which Zhuo Yichen caressed him. “Will you really be fine? Fixing the sword is all it takes?”
Ying Lei's concern and care were always appreciated, but sometimes Zhuo Yichen just wanted him to remain lighthearted and carefree. “Hm. Shanshen-daren, you don’t need to worry, you won’t have to share your godly energy to keep me well forever…” In a way, he wasn't really trying to tease the mountain god with that.
It didn’t work. Ying Lei showed to be every bit teased, his brows raised as if that had been nearly offensive.
“Not at all! As if I’d stop sharing godly energy once you can stand on your own in your yao nature…”
“Ying Lei…” The way the meaning was so clear caused a heat to spread on Zhuo Yichen’s cheeks. He grew accustomed to stripping down to the last piece of clothing with that beautiful mountain god, but certain explicit affairs when put into words, would still bring some shyness to the surface.
“I promise I didn’t tell anything to the old monkey and Lady Goddess about other means to help you besides the gui wood,” Ying Lei tried to appease, failing miserably with the next sentence, “Zhao Yuanzhou would know, though.”
Even knowing all that the Great Demon was able to do, Zhuo Yichen had, perhaps by unconscious choice, disregarded it. “Zhao Yuanzhou would… what?!”
Ying Lei chuckled, but put some efforts to hold back his expression, swallowing a certain amusement of someone who saw no reason for so much concern. “Aiye, Xiao Zhuo-daren, he’s old old, of course he knows how dual cultivation works. Maybe he’s not aware of all the implications of such a thing when it comes to gods, but he can sense it anyway.”
“He can—” Zhuo Yichen frowned so heavily his brows were nearly touching, the detail that should concern him more, the implications when it came to gods, went almost ignored. Did that mean Zhao Yuanzhou always knew when he and Ying Lei had been intimate? That would also mean Zhao Yuanzhou was not so terribly concerned about the sword because he knew Zhuo Yichen had means to balance his conflicting old and new energies within himself since long before he’d gotten Bingyi’s blood. “People can sense the tangle of divine energy in me… of your energy.” He had gotten used, he realized. Used to the feeling of Ying Lei’s energy in his own core, floating softly around it, slowly mingling with his own energy, quietly soothing every disconnection or impulse coming from that — and while he could not exactly explain it, he knew why no malicious energy was present in Ying Lei, despite of his yao side.
“Hm,” Ying Lei nodded, confirming once more what he had explained, smiling, satisfied with that fact to no end. “And of yours in me.”
They have always known, Zhuo Yichen took in that information slowly, gaze fixed on Ying Lei’s eyes to steady himself in something that never wavered, never faltered.
It was fine. Despite his shyness about it, their relationship was reserved, not secret. Unlabelled, if someone ever asked, but a relationship nonetheless. Zhuo Yichen would never forgive himself for either exposing someone like the young mountain god too much, or undignifiedly hiding him as if he weren’t good enough.
“You’re more than good enough,” his words followed his thoughts, and it was too late to undo the effects of what even he hadn’t seen coming from himself.
“Ah?!” Ying Lei had not seen that coming either and his face was every bit of surprise and confusion.
“I mean, Shanshen-daren… you’re amazing,” Zhuo Yichen settled for that, unsure if he’d ever find a better way of putting his feelings into words.
He wished he could define and articulate all those feelings into a coherent expression, the way Wen Xiao and Zhao Yuanzhou had done, so he’d understand, and more important, he’d give his more intimate truth to the person he—
Ying Lei, though, seemed fully content with that, the words Zhuo Yichen already knew how to say — and with whatever came implied in them every time, the more the days when they were together went by. His hand slid from the nape of Zhuo Yichen's neck to his shoulder, fingers exploring the fabric beneath, playing with one of the little furballs that adorned it. “I like it that you’re in my robes…” It wasn’t the first time, but Zhuo Yichen had never worn one of Ying Lei’s full attires in public like that. A part of it, though, was always there, but often in places where no one could see or in ways that what belonged to Ying Lei would blend in his own attire well enough to go unnoticed.
“Has anyone ever seen you wearing these?”
Ying Lei shook his head, “So far, only you and the mountain.”
Zhuo Yichen might as well have been jealous of whatever Ying Lei had read in those novels, but he also thought it selfish to keep the most beautiful image of the mountain god —clothed— all to himself. “Next time we return to Tiandu…”
Ying Lei trailed where that sentence was going to end, a playful smile showing on his face. “Xiao Zhuo-daren, wanting me in nice robes when we go back to Tiandu feels like you’re a proper gentleman introducing your wife to Fan Ying-daren and Situ-daren… except that they already know me.”
“What wife?!” Zhuo Yichen’s heart faltered, and yet all he could put outside was exasperation — which didn’t fail to make the young mountain god laugh.
A relationship was one thing, taking a consort was an entirely different thing, and until then, Zhuo Yichen had not considered those two things could, in fact, be the same in some circumstances. His — whatever Ying Lei was to him at that point — joking about that so casually brought back all his previous restlessness, although with a new breath of better-shaped affections, despite the lack of names or labels.
Relieved of his most intense laughter, Ying Lei shrugged, possibly having accepted all the things Zhuo Yichen entailed long ago, leaning in to comfort a momentarily distressed — bureau leader, not his husband? — with a kiss.
The act remained incomplete as quiet footsteps were not heard before any embarrassment could be avoided.
They turned to face Pei Sijing, who stared back at them with the blankest expression anyone could muster in front of two of their friends in such an inappropriate position for public display. Her gaze fell from their faces to Zhuo Yichen's hands, possessively gripping Ying Lei's hips in a way that defied any platonic explanation.
She did not need to ask. But if she did, Zhuo Yichen would not dare to utter a nonsensical excuse, and for that, Pei Sijing was tempted. Looking back up, she stared directly into Zhuo Yichen’s eyes, voice plain, “Shanshen-daren’s robes look nice on you.” And with that, she turned to leave, not lingering enough to appreciate Zhuo Yichen’s mortified expression. “Wen Xiao is waiting for you both.”
At least their fronts were pressed so tightly together that certain even more inappropriate and embarrassing things hadn't become apparent to her. Zhuo Yichen didn't want to think about how smart Pei Sijing was to know that, though.
Pei Sijing’s departure left behind an astonished mountain god, and a Zhuo Yichen very aware of his situation in the eyes of the people they considered family. Perhaps he wouldn't even need to inform Fan Ying and Situ Ming when he returned… He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the mental image that had formed and remained stuck there.
"How did Pei-daren know the robes are mine?" Ying Lei broke the silence, scratching his head.
Zhuo Yichen stared back at him in utter disbelief. He should be used to the mountain god’s naivety, but sometimes Ying Lei would really catch him off guard. "How could anyone not know?"
“Ah?”
The man chuckled softly, giving Ying Lei one last peck on the lips before letting him go. "Come, let's go see Wen Xiao."
Without haste, they walked together towards the exit of the hideout, but the image of veils in colors that did not normally occupy Zhuo Yichen's thoughts persisted.
Colors.
Gold came first. Golden hairpins in reddish-golden hair. He had never seen it before, but it was something easy to fix. He hummed, pleased with the idea. It seemed a very fitting gift for the young mountain god. Perhaps a golden hairpin was a gift that could say a little about how he felt.
Then the reddish-golden he dared not to say aloud was his favorite color. It shifted easily to red.
Zhuo Yichen had seen Ying Lei in red once, a fancier version of his regular robes, still distant from his mountain god attire, and he looked gorgeous nonetheless.
He almost stopped walking when he realized what he had just thought, staying a step behind, his eyes fixed on Ying Lei’s beautiful light strands of hair cascading down his back.
When he thought of his own bed, the image of that hair scattered on his pillow was the first that came to mind. And when he thought of his home, there was always food on the table, and it had a characteristic, unmistakable aroma, because it was always the same hands that prepared it.
The sword would be repaired and he would survive. And, being now a yao, he would live for years and years, countless years to come. And when he thought of the future—
He tugged at Ying Lei’s sleeve, causing him to pause and look over his shoulder, back at Zhuo Yichen. “Shanshen-daren… When all of this is over and we return to Tiandu… I might have something to tell you…”
“Oh? May this day come sooner rather than later!” Patient as Ying Lei was when it came to Zhuo Yichen's time, he had no questions. Well, one silly little question, "Does this involve wearing nice robes to take them off?"
Zhuo Yichen’s composed expression broke and he finally allowed himself to laugh, intertwining his fingers with Ying Lei's.
“Maybe.”
…