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The Cang Qiong Academy of Arts was the most prestigious school for those gifted with magic.
Witches.
And no, being male did not make one a wizard. Calling someone that only made you sound stupid. Or worse—uneducated.
As a child, Shen Jiu had never imagined a future beyond the streets. Boys like him were born invisible, swallowed by alleyways and hunger alike. Then his gift manifested and in a blink of an eye he was dragged into a world of polished floors, expensive robes, and people who looked at him as if poverty itself was contagious.
Magic changed many things, but it didn't change people's perceptions.
So Shen Jiu changed instead.
He dropped the street accent first. Then the posture. Then every uncouth edge of himself that made wealthy heirs wrinkle their noses.
He studied harder than everyone else. Hours disappeared beneath the dim glow of magic orbs, his eyes aching from difficult texts and his hands growing calloused from endless handwriting and calligraphy practice. All of it was worth it when he climbed to the top spot and stayed there. Soon enough, people began coming to him for help.
Oh, how he wished he could tell them all to just fuck off.
Unfortunately, that sort of language became frowned upon once one started doing business with the upper echelons of society.
Instead, Shen Jiu graciously agreed to help—for a price.
It worked well enough that he no longer relied entirely on the Academy’s charity.
His robes, while still made from cheaper fabrics, were embroidered carefully enough by his own hand to pass for expensive at first glance. Eventually, he even managed to afford raw silk. The wealthy heirs sneered at undyed cream and self-dyed green, of course, but Shen Jiu preferred colours chosen by himself. Especially once he stitched carefully the inner part of sleeves with protective sigils in gold thread.
Some students attempted to imitate his work.
None succeeded.
It wasn't like the way he dressed had an impact on grades, as they truly wished for it to work but still—
Perception mattered.
And today, perception mattered more than ever.
The advanced summoning classroom buzzed with restrained excitement. Summoned familiars perched beside their bonded witches—a bizarre collection ranging from shadow wolves and silver-eyed ravens to spectral serpents curled around wrists like precious jewellery.
All eyes were on Shen Jiu.
Some out of admiration for the top student, one of the youngest on his path to Mastery, some out of desire to see just what kind of familiar 'that arrogant Shen Jiu' would summon as the mirror of his heart and soul
“Student Shen Jiu,” the professor started flatly, sounding exhausted after overseeing hours of rituals already. “To achieve Adept rank, you are required to perform a familiar summoning. Are you ready?”
“I am.”
Familiars were status symbols as much as magical companions.
Intelligent and able to hold telepathic conversations.
Useful.
Some of them were excellent at either finding or providing rare ingredients, or assisting in rituals or even combat.
Loyal.
Ideally powerful enough to make other people nervous.
Shen Jiu saw no reason to settle for less.
“What have you prepared?” the professor asked, finally sounding mildly interested as he looked over Shen Jiu’s summoning circle.
“A triple-layered pentagram within a protective boundary,” Shen Jiu answered smoothly. “I invoked Bastet’s favour through symbolic correspondences. Bamboo for resilience, black candles, cat iconography, claws from a mountain lynx, and a summoning chant adapted from an Egyptian text regarding the Old Gods.”
The room quieted slightly.
“Oh?” the professor said. “Quite an unusual selection.”
Shen Jiu lifted his chin.
“I refuse to settle for mediocrity.”
A few students scoffed, not bothering to even lower their voices.
The professor only smiled.
“As expected from our top student.”
Shen Jiu inhaled slowly.
He deserved this.
He needed something powerful.
No.
He wanted it.
Yearned for it with his entire being.
Something intelligent enough to understand him.
Something that belonged only to Shen Jiu.
Anticipation tightened the air.
The candles ignited.
Darkness swallowed the room whole until the audience became little more than shifting silhouettes and flashes of white eyes.
Shen Jiu spoke the incantation carefully, shaping each unfamiliar syllable with painstaking precision. Months of preparation flowed through him alongside the magic gathering in the room—heavy, thick, intoxicating.
At first, everything followed the ritual script exactly—the candles kept illuminating the corners of his summoning circle, wax slowly gliding down and pooling on the floor, soft wind running through his hair to the sound of far-away chimes.
Then—
“Are those fucking eyes?!” whisper-yelled one of the audience members.
Shen Jiu’s concentration wavered for half a second.
“Shut. Up,” someone hissed immediately. “Don’t interrupt him, it's dangerous!”
"But—!"
Too late.
The room started bending in ways rooms had no right to bend.
Corners stretched too far.
The ceiling resembled a night sky stripped of stars.
Only void remained.
Shen Jiu's only consolation was that the candles kept melting, signaling the ritual was not yet broken. If only they melted downwards, as they should, and not the other way round.
The pressure in the air became unbearable. Shen Jiu staggered as vertigo slammed into him, magic roaring violently around the circle.
Something searched back.
Then—
snapped, leaving only silence in its wake.
One so sudden and encompassing it seemed loud, ringing in his ears to the rhythm of his pounding heart.
Something stood in the centre of the summoning circle.
Someone?
The darkness did not part around the figure so much as melt into a tangible shape.
Slender build, humanoid draped in loose set of iridescent robes. For a moment, Shen Jiu thought the being looked almost his height, maybe a few inches shorter.
Then it threw its… hands? up and stretched, its spine cracking loudly. The feeling must have been particularly pleasant as the entity… purred?
Shen Jiu stared.
The light in the room flickered, showing the silhouette better. His familiar seemed to be human at first glance, if not for their dubious source. Or the long black tail swaying lazily behind it.
Out of the forgotten, dumbfounded audience, the overseeing professor took an uncertain step forward.
Shen Jiu blinked.
One second the being was inside the summoning circle, as it should, waiting for the contract to be agreed on, next one it stood on the very boundaries, as if sure it could cross them anytime.
Everyone tensed.
Someone swallowed loudly, the sound so loud in the surrounding quiet that a pin dropped would be heard.
The creature looked like a young man, with milky skin, short, black hair, thin eyebrows and almond shaped eyes, if not for the cat-like tail swishing back and forth behind him.
Then it—he?—opened his eyes.
Green, the colour of bamboo he left as part of the summoning, slit pupils adding to the feline feel.
The being's shadow moved wrong beneath the candlelight, stretching and recoiling like something alive.
He looked around the room with detached curiosity before its gaze settled on Shen Jiu.
And stayed there.
Students were already backing away. Someone whispered frantically for another faculty member. Several familiars hissed, their ears flattening, fur raised; bird-like creatures had their wings fluttering fast in a low cacophony of sounds.
The being ignored all of it.
He only looked at Shen Jiu and smiled, suddenly looking just like a student maybe a year below him in terms of age, youthful, bright, warm.
The moment their eyes met, something deep inside his chest clicked into place.
Shen Jiu felt strangely seen beneath that stare. Like nothing else in the room existed.
Proper protocol dictated caution, careful negotiations and bound agreements verified with ancient rites before the familiar was supposed to be let out.
Shen Jiu ignored all of them.
If this thing wished to harm him, ordinary protections would not matter anyway, considering he was already one foot outside of the summoning circle.
Strangely enough, the thought pleased Shen Jiu. He had summoned something extraordinary indeed.
“I am your summoner,” Shen Jiu said steadily, skipping a few steps on his mental checklist straight to the final passage. “State your name, if you are willing to bond with me.”
He tried not to think about what would happen if it refused.
The creature tilted its head, eyes piercing in their intensity.
“Does bonding with you mean you’re mine?” he asked with nearly a childlike wonder.
Gasps erupted behind them.
Familiars did not speak aloud.
Shen Jiu ignored everyone else completely.
“It means you're mine,” he corrected coolly.
The creature’s eyes narrowed pleasantly.
“Ah,” it said softly. “That works too.”
Its tail flicked once as it straightened.
“You may call me Shen Yuan.”
Shen Jiu’s pulse skipped in victory.
Another blink, and Shen Yuan disappeared.
Then—
A sudden weight slammed into him as long limbs wrapped around him without warning.
Warm.
Clingy.
Like being attacked by an overly affectionate octopus.
Shen Yuan buried his face against Shen Jiu’s neck and inhaled deeply.
“You’re so warm,” he murmured happily. “It's way too cold out here.”
Shen Jiu froze.
“…get off.”
“I wanna sleep,” Shen Yuan continued as though he had not spoken. “Can we leave now, Shen Jiu?”
“You’re too heavy.”
“Oh,” Shen Yuan said easily. “That’s simple to fix.”
The weight disappeared.
A black cat now lounged across Shen Jiu’s shoulders as though it had always belonged there, green eyes gleaming with smug satisfaction.
“Student Shen—” the professor started weakly.
Shen Jiu glanced up.
His professor had gone pale enough to resemble funeral paper.
“Hm?”
The older man looked slowly toward the cat.
Both slitted eyes blinked.
The shadows from the candles seemed to grow around them, whispering.
“…” The professor swallowed. “Nothing. C-congratulations on your bonding, please remember to register soon. At your convenience of course," he added, sweating.
Shen Jiu nodded, before quickly gathering the ritual remains into his hidden pouch with a careful incantation.
They left without any issue, the still remaining crowd separating in half to give them an easy way out.
Along the way to the sleeping quarters, they moved through the corridors, curious eyes following them. Some students nodded in greeting or offered congratulations before it was their turn to be shocked when they could hear the cat speaking.
"Do you have any snacks, Shen Jiu?"
"Use something less formal. We're bonded now," he said absentmindedly, wondering what kind of snacks would a summoned entity even eat. Weren't they supposed to feed on residual magic? "Do you even need to eat?" he asked, genuinely curious.
"I could devour this very building if I was hungry enough. Or bored," said Shen Yuan truthfully.
"I see," Shen Jiu thought of his irregular meal times and hidden sweets under the loose board in his room. "How does tuna sound?"
"I'm not really a cat, you know? Just share with me your meals, Jiu-ge"
Shen Jiu's steps faltered for a fraction of a second, his heart skipped a beat.
With cheeks slightly pinked he said: "Why call me that?"
Shen Yuan blinked at him lazily.
“You said ‘less formal’. Isn't gege appropriate?” Shen Yuan asked coyly, picking on his claws. "In the end, don't you wish to be called a brother?"
Shen Jiu froze.
“What?”
“We're bonded, I know everything about you.”
Shen Jiu was unsure if that was true. But this was his familiar, the very reflection of his truest self so—
"I suppose it's acceptable."
Shen Yuan purred softly from his shoulders, pleased.
Somewhere deeper within the Academy, a terrified scream sounded.
Neither of them acknowledged it.
Living with Shen Yuan turned out to be both exactly what Shen Jiu expected and absolutely nothing like it.
The Academy provided lengthy lectures regarding familiar bonds and how to use them; all the benefits, risks.
Shared magical affinity.
Enhanced specialization.
Increased ritual compatibility.
A familiar, ideally, functioned as a magical companion and assistant in one.
No lecture, however, had prepared Shen Jiu for Shen Yuan.
For the sake of his own sanity, Shen Jiu quickly stopped thinking of him as a summoned entity and started thinking of him as a person.
A sometimes socially maladjusted person, but still.
As expected from a familiar, Shen Yuan ate residual magic happily enough, describing excess spell energy as ‘a most scrumptious meal, as sweet as you, Jiu-ge,’ while smacking his lips as if to catch the lingering taste. Shen Jiu promptly averted his eyes.
Unfortunately, Shen Yuan also required normal human food.
A lot of it.
To make matters worse, he was appallingly insistent on dragging Shen Jiu into the habit of eating a healthy number of meals per day instead of surviving on tea, spite, and whatever snacks he remembered to keep hidden beneath the loose floorboard in his room.
Mealtimes should have offered Shen Jiu more opportunities for socialisation now that he spent less time shut away in classrooms, the library, or his quarters. Instead, they became something reserved almost entirely for the two of them.
Not intentionally—other students simply stopped trying to join them.
Partially because Shen Yuan was ‘unsettling’—which Shen Jiu considered a coward’s complaint. Mostly, however, because Shen Yuan lacked the self-preservation necessary for proper decorum and kept saying things Shen Jiu desperately wished he could say himself without risking expulsion for insulting some snotty baron’s son.
“I thought this academy was meant for gifted students, Jiu-ge,” Shen Yuan remarked one afternoon while watching a noble heir ignore his directly asked and perfectly normal question only to talk over him at Shen Jiu in a feeble attempt at gaining favour. “Are visitors allowed?”
The intruder frowned. “Excuse me?”
Shen Yuan tilted his head innocently.
“Or are some people ‘gifted’ gifted?”
His fingers even made little quotation marks.
Shen Jiu nearly choked on his tea.
The noble heir left in a huff shortly after, leaving Shen Jiu torn between irritation at losing a potential tutoring client and vicious pride at the look on his face.
Things only deteriorated from there, mostly because Shen Yuan seemed to consider social etiquette a puzzle designed to be solved maliciously.
He had apparently read the guide Shen Jiu bought him solely to learn which rules would offend people most effectively.
He interrupted conversations if he felt ignored
Or bored.
Or hungry.
Or if someone stole Shen Jiu’s attention for too long—which, nowadays, did not happen as often as before.
Mu Qingfang, one of the few reasonable people in the entire Academy, remained willing to approach Shen Yuan voluntarily.
Unfortunately, this was mostly because he desperately wanted to dissect him academically.
“Your pulse disappears every third minute,” Mu Qingfang observed one afternoon while taking notes.
Shen Yuan looked delighted.
“You noticed?”
“That should not be physically possible.” Mu Qingfang wrote that down immediately.
“Fascinating,” Shen Yuan said with bright eyes, as if he'd just learned something new.
Shen Jiu pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Stop encouraging him.”
“I am not encouraging him,” Shen Yuan protested.
“I wasn't talking to you,” Shen Jiu hissed, glaring at Mu Qingfang,
“He’s just curious,” Shen Yuan said, scandalized. “For science.”
“What if he wants to dissect you, you moron?”
“He would never—!”
Mu Qingfang, already reaching for a measuring charm, wisely said nothing.
Shen Jiu decided then and there that allowing the two of them to converse unsupervised would be a mistake.
Xiang Fei, the seventh son of a merchant and one of Shen Jiu’s less intolerable acquaintances, reacted to Shen Yuan with considerably less academic curiosity.
Upon being introduced to Shen Yuan, he became Shen Yuan’s favourite toy.
This was unfortunate for him.
“Did you know there’s a parasite capable of replacing the human spine?” Shen Yuan asked conversationally during lunch one day.
He was reading a book Shen Jiu did not remember borrowing from the library. Its cover appeared disturbingly similar to stretched skin.
Probably pig.
“No,” Shen Jiu replied flatly.
Xiang Fei, who had tried to be brave that day, blanched as the cover wrinkled in a facsimile of a smile.
“Is that moving?” he whispered, voice so tight it was nearly soundless.
“Hm? This?” Shen Yuan looked down. “No, Xiang Fei. Books don’t just move.”
The book’s cover smiled wider.
Xiang Fei looked as though his soul was attempting to leave his body.
Shen Yuan turned to another page. “Do you think such a parasite would cure paralysis, or simply create new problems?”
By the time Shen Jiu looked up from his food, every other student had abandoned the table.
Shen Yuan blinked.
“How strange,” he murmured. “I will ask him again later.”
“Please don’t,” Xiang Fei said faintly.
"Oh, you're volunteering?"
"Eep!"
Shen Jiu decided not to bother with another lecture.
Instead, he continued eating while Shen Yuan leaned comfortably against his shoulder like an overgrown cat now that they had the entire table for themselves.
It was… easy, somehow, to get used to him.
That was the real problem.
Shen Yuan’s existence caused several unexpected administrative issues as well.
Less than a week after his summoning, he stopped bothering with his cat form and began attending all of Shen Jiu’s classes as his classmate and deskmate.
This was peculiar, because Shen Yuan had not been a student before.
Apparently, that had changed and nobody knew how, including the administration.
“There are records of his entrance examinations,” one secretary said shakily.
“But we never actually saw him take them?” asked the entrance examiner, doubtful.
“You received full marks in… Egyptology?” Shen Jiu said, glancing down at the form. “I was not aware the Academy offered such a course.”
“We don’t,” whispered the secretary.
“They don’t,” Shen Yuan confirmed from the windowsill.
Shen Jiu considered this an institutional failure rather than his problem and shrugged.
"So does it mean he can get that scholarship or not?"
"Ah, yes, we'll just w-write a check for you," said the secretary.
After that, Shen Yuan attended classes regularly.
No one questioned it to his face.
Mostly because the last teacher who tried spent three hours speaking fluent ancient Babylonian before collapsing dramatically into a koi pond.
“Student Shen Yuan,” the spellcrafting professor said automatically during attendance before freezing.
Silence filled the classroom.
Shen Yuan looked up pleasantly.
“Present.”
The teacher visibly reconsidered several life choices.
“…good.”
After that, a strange truce settled over the Academy.
Teachers called on Shen Yuan in class, graded his papers that magically appeared from thin air, and allowed him the title of an Adeptus.
Students made space for him at desks.
The attendance scroll wrote his name by itself every morning in ink that smelled faintly of myrrh.
Nobody mentioned this.
Shen Jiu, who had seen enough rich fools lie their way into institutions with less paperwork, considered the matter settled.
As a result, the Academy collectively stopped referring to Shen Yuan as Shen Jiu’s familiar aloud.
Unfortunately, nobody could agree on a better title either.
“Shen Jiu's… friend,” one professor tried weakly.
Shen Yuan smiled wide. His white teeth gleaming, way too many of them, all sharpened.
The professor immediately excused himself and never returned.
Xiang Fei, meanwhile, had apparently decided survival through avoidance was the superior strategy of dealing with the newest student.
Sadly, the strategy was doomed from the start, considering Shen Yuan treated the entire situation as his precious entertainment.
“Xiang Fei,” Shen Yuan said patiently.
“AAAH—gods, you need a bell!” Xiang Fei yelped, jumping nearly a foot at the sudden voice behind him. He had been certain he was alone in the hall.
“I have a question regarding spinal parasites, we did not manage to finish that conversation the last time.”
“NO.”
“Shen Yuan,” Shen Jiu said, bored, “stop terrorising that wimp.”
“I am not terrorising him but broadening his academic horizons.”
“My horizons are broad enough!” Xiang Fei shouted already from halfway across the courtyard.
One morning, after Shen Yuan appeared behind Xiang Fei in the washroom mirror while Xiang Fei was checking beneath his eyes for signs of premature aging, the poor fool finally snapped.
“I swear, I’m going to die of a heart attack soon,” Xiang Fei gasped, one hand pressed to his chest. “Shen Jiu, control your—!”
He stopped.
Visibly panicked.
Familiar was no longer safe.
Brother implied shared blood, which somehow felt deeply incorrect.
Boyfriend felt even worse—mostly because Shen Jiu would kill him.
“Your… your…”
Shen Yuan watched him with open curiosity.
Shen Jiu looked increasingly offended with every passing second.
Xiang Fei broke into a cold sweat.
“Someone,” he finished desperately.
Silence.
Shen Yuan blinked once.
“Jiu-ge,” he said thoughtfully, “why does he sound frightened every time he speaks to us?”
“Because he’s weak,” Shen Jiu replied dismissively.
Xiang Fei looked seconds away from tears.
Shen Yuan leaned slightly closer toward him.
“Do not worry,” he said kindly. “I would never consume you without permission.”
Xiang Fei screamed and fled.
Shen Jiu sighed.
“You're not helping.”
“I was reassuring him.”
Out of everyone Shen Yuan encountered, however, Yue Qi—pardon, Yue Qingyuan, after his fortunate adoption into a marquise family and abandonment of Shen Jiu to fend for himself—handled him the worst.
Or perhaps the best.
He tried very hard to remain polite around Shen Yuan.
Shen Yuan responded by becoming impeccably well-behaved in ways that somehow felt threatening.
“Thank you for the snacks,” Shen Yuan said pleasantly one afternoon when Yue Qingyuan approached with a paper-wrapped bundle of pastries.
Then he maintained eye contact while eating every single one.
Slowly.
Yue Qingyuan’s smile strained further with each bite.
Shen Jiu took a quiet, vicious sort of satisfaction in that.
Unfortunately, Yue Qingyuan’s strained but hopeful expression still left something aching unpleasantly beneath Shen Jiu’s ribs.
“How thoughtful,” Shen Yuan said after swallowing the last pastry.
Yue Qingyuan brightened cautiously.
Then Shen Yuan leaned more heavily against Shen Jiu’s side.
“Jiu-ge prefers the ones with sesame.”
Yue Qingyuan’s smile faltered.
Shen Jiu looked away.
“Do not speak for me,” he snapped.
Shen Yuan’s tail flicked once behind him, smug and lazy.
“But I was right.”
Shen Jiu hated that he was.
Maybe he should have been more concerned by Shen Yuan’s clear dislike for Yue Qingyuan. But Shen Yuan disliked very few people on Shen Jiu’s behalf, and Shen Jiu found it difficult to object on principle.
Besides, Yue Qingyuan was still better than Liu Qingge.
That brute reacted to Shen Yuan’s existence with immediate violence.
“Fight me.”
“No.”
“Fight me.”
“You are very repetitive.”
“Fight me.”
Shen Yuan considered him thoughtfully.
“Jiu-ge,” he said, “may I keep him?”
“Absolutely not.”
Unfortunately, Shen Jiu made the mistake of wondering whether perhaps letting Shen Yuan loose around Liu Qingge would at least keep both nuisances occupied.
It became one of his worst ideas to date.
From then on, every time Liu Qingge noticed them, he tried to pick a fight with Shen Yuan.
Worse still, Shen Yuan seemed entertained by him, as if Liu Qingge were not an irritating brute but a particularly lively toy.
Shen Jiu had no idea why that bothered him.
Which naturally made it bother him more.
“He's straightforward,” Shen Yuan remarked thoughtfully afterward.
“He's brain damaged,” Shen Jiu snapped.
During their next encounter, Shen Yuan dodged twelve attacks without moving his feet.
“Your posture improved,” he informed Liu Qingge. “Mildly.”
Liu Qingge looked ready to either ascend or commit murder.
Shen Jiu just wanted his familiar's attention returned to where it belonged.
Liu Qingge certainly had no claim to it.
Despite all of that, Shen Jiu was… content to have such a faithful shadow around.
Shen Yuan could read. He had weirdly specific knowledge about forgotten flora and fauna across the ages. He liked sunny windowsills, sweet cakes, rare books, warm laundry, and resting against Shen Jiu as though there were nowhere else in the world worth being.
It became easy to carry snacks for both of them.
It became easy to fix Shen Yuan’s collar or tug his robes back into place when they inevitably loosened from all his fidgeting or from naps in warm, partially hidden places.
It was easy to pet Shen Yuan in his cat form, to learn how he liked being scratched behind the ears, to learn every lazy flick of his tail and pleased narrowing of his eyes.
It was far too easy to forget himself and pet his wayward bonded one in thanks even when Shen Yuan was in human form.
“What?” Shen Jiu snapped, cheeks warming. “Stop staring at me.”
He did not stop petting him.
Shen Yuan’s eyes narrowed into pleased slits.
“How could I?” he purred. “You look scrumptious like this.”
“Shut up.”
Of course, the issue with Shen Yuan being so free was that he did ignore etiquette, or perhaps was ignorant of it, though Shen Jiu deeply doubted that.
Either way, it was not always useful.
Rumors spread that Shen Jiu’s familiar was uncouth, and what did that say about Shen Jiu? That he was still just an annoying upstart pretending at refinement? That he had summoned exactly the sort of creature his soul deserved?
It should not have bothered him.
It did.
“Can you just sit next to me?” Shen Jiu hissed during one particularly unbearable meal where Shen Yuan had draped himself practically across his lap, demanding to be fed and feeding Shen Jiu in return.
“Where’s the fun in that?” Shen Yuan asked. “You’re comfortable, Jiu-ge.”
“You’re embarrassing me.”
The words came out sharper than he intended.
Shen Yuan’s ears twitched.
Behind them, someone laughed.
“Don’t worry about them,” Shen Yuan said.
He blinked slowly at the loudest student.
The laughter cut off at once.
Then the hiccupping began.
Rumors spread quickly after that.
Shen Jiu’s familiar—
no, apparently his brother—
no, shut up, don’t say that near him—
would curse anyone who insulted Shen Jiu after blinking at them slowly like a cat.
Shen Jiu called it nonsense.
He also stopped correcting anyone who avoided their table.
That evening, Shen Jiu returned to their room in a foul mood.
Liu Qingge had occupied far too much of Shen Yuan’s attention lately.
Shen Yuan had made it worse by looking amused.
Amused.
By Liu Qingge.
Shen Jiu sat stiffly on his bed, seething internally and pretending to read the same paragraph for the fifth time.
When Shen Yuan finally returned, Shen Jiu ignored his greeting on principle.
“Had fun with that brute?”
Shen Yuan paused.
Then his tail flicked once lazily.
“Ah,” he said softly. “There's no need to be jealous.”
Shen Jiu immediately looked up.
“Get out.”
Shen Yuan only smiled.
“Don’t worry,” he murmured while approaching anyway. “Never as much as with you.”
Shen Jiu caught his gaze straying to the milky shoulder now bared by the already flimsy robe slipping loose.
His face heated.
Irritated, he snapped, “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Sleep?”
“That's my bed.”
“I don’t see another.”
“Then sleep on the floor.”
Shen Yuan looked wounded. “You would throw me away? Your own familiar?”
“I will not sleep with a strange man in my bed, even if he's mine. Though you seem to have forgotten that recently.”
Shen Yuan’s eyes gleamed.
“I have not forgotten anything. And again, that’s simple to fix.”
He transformed before Shen Jiu could stop him.
A black cat landed neatly on Shen Jiu’s chest, circled once, and settled down with shameless satisfaction.
Shen Jiu stared at him.
“This isn't better when I know you're not really a pet.”
Shen Yuan’s green eyes blinked up at him.
Then he began to purr.
Shen Jiu should have thrown him off.
Instead, he sighed, lifted one hand, and scratched behind Shen Yuan’s ear.
As he drifted toward sleep, he heard Shen Yuan murmur, soft and pleased:
“Soon we won’t be strangers anymore, though, Jiu-ge.”
The greenhouse incident happened exactly two days after Shen Jiu made the mistake of thinking perhaps things were finally becoming manageable.
That assumption lasted until he received an official complaint from the botanical department accusing his familiar of so many things he was certain it had to be a joke.
Unauthorized harvesting.
Encouraging predatory flora.
Teaching the carnivorous orchids bad habits—whatever that one was supposed to mean.
Shen Jiu had rejected the accusations immediately. When, exactly, was Shen Yuan meant to have found the time? The creature spent every free moment following him like a faithful shadow, stealing his snacks, occupying his pillows, or inserting himself into Shen Jiu’s classes as if the Academy had not collectively given up on questioning his enrollment.
Unfortunately, despite Shen Jiu’s clear refusal and his provided alibi for both himself and his bonded one, he had been assigned greenhouse duty regardless.
Which was how he found himself currently trapped waist-deep in aggressively affectionate plant matter.
“Bulbous, beneficial, carnivorous…” Shen Yuan muttered absently while paging through an enormous tome titled Curses and Spells Compendium for Advanced Weeders.
“Jiu-ge,” he called without looking up, “would you say this plant is constricting you because of hunting instincts or enrichment behavior?”
“How the fuck would I know what its intentions are?” Shen Jiu snapped, no longer bothering with flowery language as he yanked furiously at the vine currently slithering beneath his robes.
The plant tightened immediately in response.
Somewhere behind him, Shen Yuan hummed thoughtfully.
“Stop being difficult and answer the question.”
“Shen. Yuan.” Shen Jiu ground out through clenched teeth. “Find the damn plant species and get me out of this.”
Several green tendrils continued enthusiastically attempting to undress him.
One managed to pry open another button of his shirt.
Shen Jiu slapped it away.
The vine slapped back.
“I cannot identify it properly without behavioral context,” Shen Yuan said calmly, flipping to another page. “Many magical plants possess distinct feeding rituals.”
“And how exactly am I supposed to determine its motives?” Shen Jiu hissed. “Interrogate it?”
Another vine disappeared beneath his shirt.
Shen Jiu nearly choked.
“As you can see, it is currently very committed to getting under my clothes—interpret that however you want.”
“Hm.”
Shen Yuan’s tail flicked lazily behind him.
“So we cannot rule out carnivorous tendencies.”
A loud ripping sound echoed through the greenhouse.
Shen Yuan looked up automatically.
Then went very still.
“…ah,” he said.
Shen Jiu froze.
He knew that tone.
That tone never meant anything good.
Shen Yuan’s pupils shook slightly.
A strip of fabric now hung uselessly from Shen Jiu’s shoulder where the plant had finally succeeded in tearing part of his shirt open.
Pale skin flashed beneath the ruined fabric.
The greenhouse suddenly felt very quiet.
“Jiu-ge,” Shen Yuan said slowly, staring with alarming concentration, “I think the plant may indeed be carnivorous.”
“What?”
“It clearly has good taste.”
Shen Jiu’s face burned instantly.
“You—”
Another button snapped off dramatically.
The vines wiggled with what looked disturbingly close to triumph.
“Hm,” Shen Yuan continued thoughtfully. “It also appears impatient.”
“Maybe try cultivating patient plants next time instead of making trouble!” Shen Jiu snapped while aggressively batting away another tendril trying to climb his stomach.
Shen Yuan’s ears twitched.
“You think so?”
“No, I do not think so! I am in this situation because of you!”
Shen Jiu finally managed to wrench one arm free, only for the entire plant to tighten around his waist possessively.
“How are you even my familiar?” he snarled. “Useless menace.”
The page turning stopped.
For the first time since Shen Jiu had been dragged into the greenhouse’s depths by a plant with more enthusiasm than survival instinct, Shen Yuan fell completely silent.
It should have been satisfying.
It was not.
Shen Jiu stilled before he could stop himself.
The vines continued their determined work, but Shen Yuan no longer seemed to notice them.
Slowly, Shen Yuan closed the book.
“Do not call me that,” he said.
His voice was quiet.
Not wounded, exactly.
Worse.
Calm.
Shen Jiu’s irritation faltered, leaving something sharper and less comfortable beneath it.
“You know I didn’t—”
“I know many things.” Shen Yuan set the book aside with careful precision. “I know when you are angry. I know when you are embarrassed. I know when your words are meant to cut because you do not know what else to do with your fear.”
Shen Jiu’s fingers tightened around a vine.
The plant immediately released a pathetic squeak.
Shen Yuan’s green eyes lifted, meeting Shen Jiu’s gaze.
“I allow you much, Jiu-ge.”
The greenhouse lights flickered.
Leaves shivered.
Every flower turned, very slightly, toward Shen Yuan.
“I allow your sharp tongue. Your temper. Your insults when they are meant for the world and I am simply the nearest.” His tail moved once behind him, slow and controlled. “I do not allow you to mistake that for permission to treat me as something beneath you.”
The words landed with far more weight than they should have.
Shen Jiu hated it.
He hated the stillness in Shen Yuan’s face. Hated the way the plant suddenly seemed less humiliating than the fact that Shen Yuan had stepped back from him without physically moving at all.
“I did not mean—”
“You did.”
Shen Jiu’s mouth shut.
Shen Yuan watched him for another long moment.
Then his attention shifted.
The air changed.
Only slightly.
Only enough for the leaves to go still.
Shen Yuan crouched beside the main vine and took it gently between two fingers.
The greenhouse lights flickered again.
The vine immediately released Shen Jiu.
Actually, every plant in the greenhouse recoiled at once.
Several flowers snapped shut.
The carnivorous orchids flattened themselves against their pots.
One cactus fell over dramatically.
The plant that had been wrapped around Shen Jiu trembled from root to leaf.
Shen Jiu staggered, catching himself against the edge of a workbench before quickly straightening his ruined robes with as much dignity as possible.
“What did you do?”
“Hm?” Shen Yuan blinked innocently. “Nothing.”
The plant shook harder.
“I have never seen a plant tremble before.”
“I merely communicated boundaries.”
“That is not better.”
“It is very simple.” Shen Yuan released the vine. It immediately curled in on itself like an ashamed noodle. “If something is allowed close, it should not assume it may take whatever it wants.”
Shen Jiu looked at him sharply.
Shen Yuan’s expression remained mild.
The greenhouse was silent except for the faint rustle of terrified foliage.
Shen Jiu understood, unfortunately.
He would have preferred not to.
Heat still burned beneath his skin, but it was no longer only embarrassment. His ruined shirt hung open at the shoulder. His robes were wrinkled, his hair had slipped half-loose from its tie, and Shen Yuan was looking at him with the same impossible attention as always.
Except now Shen Jiu could feel the line between them.
Not a wall.
Not distance.
A boundary.
Shen Yuan would curl around him, sleep on him, eat from his hand, drape himself across his lap, and call him Jiu-ge in that unbearably pleased voice.
But he would not be kicked like a stray dog and wag his tail for the privilege.
Shen Jiu swallowed.
Then looked away.
“…fine.”
Shen Yuan’s ears twitched.
“Fine?”
“I will not call you useless.”
A pause.
“Or menace?”
Shen Jiu’s jaw tightened.
“You are a menace.”
“Jiu-ge.”
“A deliberate inconvenience.”
“Better,” Shen Yuan decided after a moment.
Shen Jiu exhaled sharply through his nose.
“Are you satisfied now?”
“No.”
Shen Yuan’s gaze drifted down.
Back to the exposed skin still visible beneath Shen Jiu’s torn shirt.
And stayed there.
Too long.
“…what?” Shen Jiu demanded.
Shen Yuan blinked slowly.
“You are aesthetically pleasing when flustered.”
The moment shattered.
Shen Jiu nearly threw a flowerpot at him.
Shen Yuan ducked, laughing, and the entire greenhouse seemed to breathe again.
“You—insufferable creature!”
“Creature is acceptable,” Shen Yuan said cheerfully. “Especially from you.”
“Do not sound so pleased about that.”
“But you are no longer calling me useless.”
Shen Jiu stopped.
Then scoffed and pulled his torn robes tighter around himself.
“Only because you are clearly too troublesome to be useless.”
Shen Yuan smiled.
Softly, this time.
“Mn. I will accept that.”
Shen Jiu turned away before his face could betray anything unfortunate.
Behind him, the trembling plant nudged one vine toward his ankle as if to apologize.
Shen Yuan’s head snapped toward it.
The vine immediately retreated.
“Good,” Shen Yuan said pleasantly.
Shen Jiu closed his eyes.
“You planted those seeds,” Shen Jiu said suddenly.
Shen Yuan’s tail swayed.
“You learned something, didn’t you?”
“Shen Yuan.”
“So did I,” Shen Yuan said, gaze dropping again to Shen Jiu’s ruined collar.
Shen Jiu did throw the flowerpot that time.
Shen Yuan caught it.
After that incident, things became noticeably worse.
Or better?
Depending on who was asked.
If before they were close, now they were more like conjoined twins with the way Shen Yuan began touching him more frequently.
Not improperly.
Just constantly.
An arm draped over his shoulders.
A hand on his waist guiding him through crowded hallways.
Long fingers idly playing with the ends of his hair during lectures.
At first Shen Jiu shoved him away on principle.
Then eventually he stopped noticing.
Mostly.
Unfortunately, everyone else noticed.
Especially because Shen Yuan kept staring intently now, as though he had discovered a fascinating new phenomenon and intended to study it thoroughly.
Which, judging by the way his tail swished whenever Shen Jiu loosened his collar, was probably exactly what had happened.
“Stop staring,” Shen Jiu snapped one afternoon without looking up from his notes.
“I'm appreciating.”
“You're being stranger than usual.”
“Huh, I wasn't even aware that was possible.”
That was unfortunately difficult to refute.
It also did not help that Shen Yuan had started bringing him gifts.
Like a cat.
Except ordinary cats did not usually present their owners with softly whispering skulls, flowers that grew upside down, jewellery that occasionally bled, or small creatures that absolutely did not possess enough eyes to qualify as earthly lifeforms.
“This one followed me home,” Shen Yuan explained one evening while holding something vaguely tentacled.
Shen Jiu looked at the creature.
The creature looked back with at least nine eyes too many.
“…put it back.”
“It likes you.”
“It's leaking all over the floor.”
The creature chirped wetly.
Shen Yuan looked delighted.
“See? It's perfect.”
“Outside.”
“Jiu-ge—”
“Outside, Shen Yuan.”
Shen Yuan sighed as though Shen Jiu were being unreasonable, then carried the leaking creature away with great care.
Shen Jiu waited until he was alone to realise he had not asked where Shen Yuan had found it.
Then he decided he did not want to know.
Around the Academy, stranger things began happening as well.
Students disappeared briefly before returning several hours later speaking ancient Sumerian.
Hallways became longer at night.
Mirrors blinked.
The moon duplicated once—nobody slept well after that.
Everyone blamed Shen Yuan, rightly so.
Unfortunately, the perpetrator himself genuinely failed to understand why these things upset people.
“Ah,” he remarked one evening while leaning comfortably against Shen Jiu during study hours, “the western corridor became sentient again.”
Shen Jiu paused mid-sentence.
“Again?”
“Yes.”
“…why are you saying that so casually?”
“It seems happy this time.”
“That does not answer my question.”
Shen Yuan only hummed and reached for one of the candied fruits Shen Jiu had definitely bought for himself.
Shen Jiu let him take it.
He had grown weak.
Especially to the way Shen Yuan kept eating messily, the sugar from the tanghulu staining his lips, his mouth, and fingers too being sticky so he kept sucking on them to clean up.
Shen Jiu felt his own mouth drying.
Instead of saying anything, he resigned himself to momentary loss of dignity, and supplied another sweet treat himself, avoiding the knowing gaze of the other, who complied and peacefully took the offering from Shen Jiu's fingers, pink tongue flicking out once to taste it.
"Mmm, delicious."
"Shameless."
Meanwhile, the rest of the Academy escalated from uneasy to actively terrified.
Professors stopped asking Shen Yuan questions unless absolutely necessary.
Students left extra space around Shen Jiu in corridors.
Xiang Fei had taken to carrying a small bell in his pocket and shaking it whenever Shen Yuan appeared too suddenly, which had done nothing to deter Shen Yuan and everything to make him more interested, especially when the scared man was the only one to actively looking for protective spells and talismans, trying new one out each time.
Shen Jiu wondered privately if any of those would work and how to get rid of it from the public library.
Yue Qingyuan watched Shen Yuan and Shen Jiu times spent together with increasing concern.
Shen Yuan watched Yue Qingyuan back with increasing politeness.
The real problem came several weeks later.
A senior student—rich, arrogant, and unfortunately emboldened by several equally stupid friends—cornered Shen Jiu after class.
Shen Yuan was not with him.
That was probably the only reason the fool dared.
“Honestly,” the Adeptus sneered, “you should have that familiar of yours sealed.”
Shen Jiu’s expression chilled immediately.
“My familiar?”
The student either did not notice the warning in his tone or was too stupid to understand it.
“That thing is dangerous,” he continued. “Everyone knows it. The faculty only tolerate it because they’re afraid. But really, Shen Jiu, even you must realise summoning an abomination does not make you impressive.”
The words struck too close to old wounds.
Upstart.
Street rat.
Pretender.
The sort of creature his soul deserved.
Shen Jiu’s fingers curled around the strap of his book bag.
“If you have something to say,” he said coldly, “try saying it without hiding behind gossip.”
One of the student’s friends laughed nervously.
The Adeptus stepped closer.
“You really think you’re above the rest of us now? Because some monster curls up at your feet?”
Shen Jiu’s lip curled.
“At least my monster can pass examinations for subjects the Academy does not offer. What is your excuse?”
The student’s face darkened.
Before Shen Jiu could step away, a hand closed around his wrist, hard enough to leave bruises.
The air changed.
Not metaphorically.
One moment, the corridor existed normally.
The next—
Something vast pressed against the realm from the other side.
The lights dimmed.
Then dimmed further.
The walls stretched impossibly far.
The polished floor became too reflective, showing not the corridor above it but a sky full of dead stars.
Eyes opened inside the shadows.
Someone screamed.
The Adeptus released Shen Jiu instantly and stumbled backward, clutching his hand as though burned.
Shen Yuan stood several feet away.
Still smiling.
Only—
Wrong.
He was too tall, had way too many shadows. His pupils had expanded until his eyes looked almost entirely black. The edges of him blurred, not from movement but from the world struggling to decide what shape he was meant to have.
Behind him, something enormous shifted beneath reality like a creature turning in its sleep.
Shen Jiu’s heartbeat was loud in his ears.
“Why,” Shen Yuan asked softly, “are you touching what belongs to me?”
Nobody moved.
Nobody breathed.
One student quietly started praying.
The corridor ceiling rippled like disturbed water.
The rich bully whimpered.
It was not dignified.
Shen Jiu approved.
“You hurt him,” Shen Yuan said.
The student shook his head frantically. “I-I didn’t—”
“You did.”
The shadows leaned closer.
Several students dropped to their knees.
Somewhere behind them, hurried footsteps approached.
“Shen Jiu!”
Yue Qingyuan arrived just in time to stop dead at the edge of the distorted corridor.
For once in his life, he looked genuinely afraid.
“That thing is dangerous,” Yue Qingyuan said carefully. "It will hurt you."
And Shen Jiu—
Shen Jiu got offended.
Thing?
Dangerous was Shen Yuan complaining his tea was too hot.
Dangerous was Shen Yuan stealing blankets at night and then purring like an engine when Shen Jiu tried to reclaim them.
Dangerous was Shen Yuan sleeping in sunbeams across Shen Jiu’s notes, demanding snacks between classes, silently appearing beside him whenever Shen Jiu’s temper tipped too close to grief.
Dangerous was Shen Yuan bringing him impossible creatures because he thought Shen Jiu might like them.
Dangerous was Shen Yuan blinking slowly at people who laughed too loudly and pretending surprise when they hiccupped or tripped over air for three hours afterward.
That was his familiar.
His.
Honestly, everyone else was overreacting. The only way in which he was dangerous was to Shen Jiu's treacherous heart.
Shen Jiu pulled his wrist free from where he had cradled it against his chest, stepped past the trembling students, and walked directly toward the eldritch nightmare currently distorting space around itself.
Yue Qingyuan made a strangled, aborted sound.
Shen Jiu ignored him.
Shen Yuan’s many shadows shifted as he approached.
His smile softened.
"J̵̪̾͋į̷͖̠̅͂͌u̸̫͆͠-̸̢̗͗̀g̴̢͚̥̈́e̷̝͖̓͒̏" he called out.
Shen Jiu reached up and straightened Shen Yuan’s crooked collar.
The fabric beneath his fingers was perfectly ordinary.
Warm.
Slightly wrinkled.
“You're making a scene,” he said flatly.
Shen Yuan blinked.
Around them, six or seven extra eyes blinked too.
"T̸h̶e̶y̵ ̵s̷t̴a̸r̷t̶e̴d̵ ̷i̷t̴"
“Yes, and now I am finishing it.”
Shen Yuan looked over his shoulder at the Adeptus.
The student made a noise like a dying kettle.
Shen Jiu pinched Shen Yuan’s collar between two fingers and tugged until those black, black eyes returned to him.
“Stop threatening the faculty.”
“T̸h̷e̸y̵ ̵a̸r̶e̶ ̵n̸o̷t̸ ̶f̷a̶c̸u̵l̴t̴y̶."
“Then stop threatening idiots in front of faculty. It makes me look bad.”
Behind them, someone whimpered.
Shen Yuan considered this distinction.
Then, gradually, the shadows settled.
The lights flickered back into existence.
The walls shortened.
The floor stopped reflecting dead stars and returned to its usual polished wood.
Reality stitched itself back together reluctantly, as if repaired by an offended seamstress.
Shen Yuan immediately leaned against Shen Jiu afterward, heavy and boneless, exactly like an oversized cat seeking praise.
Shen Jiu allowed it.
Naturally.
Yue Qingyuan was still staring.
Shen Jiu looked at him over Shen Yuan’s shoulder.
“What?”
Yue Qingyuan’s mouth opened.
Closed.
His gaze dropped briefly to Shen Jiu’s wrist.
Then to Shen Yuan, who had curled one arm around Shen Jiu’s waist and was now staring back with placid, predatory calm.
“…nothing,” Yue Qingyuan said at last.
A wise answer.
Shen Jiu lifted his chin and swept past him with Shen Yuan still clinging to his side.
Behind them, the Adeptus burst into tears.
Shen Yuan looked pleased.
“Do not look so proud of yourself,” Shen Jiu muttered.
“I protected you.”
“You nearly ate the corridor.”
“Only a little.”
“That is not a good excuse.”
“It was a very rude corridor by then.”
Shen Jiu did not dignify that with a response.
The senior Adeptus transferred out of Shen Jiu’s advanced classes the next morning.
Shen Jiu considered this an unexpected academic benefit.
That night, Shen Yuan sprawled across nearly the entire bed while Shen Jiu attempted, unsuccessfully, to read.
Outside, something screamed in the distance in a language older than civilisation.
Neither of them acknowledged it.
“You are impossible,” Shen Jiu muttered eventually.
Shen Yuan’s tail curled lazily around his ankle beneath the blanket.
“You say that often.”
“Because it remains true.” Shen Jiu turned a page he had not read. “How are you even remotely related to Bastet?”
Shen Yuan opened one eye.
“Who said I was?”
Shen Jiu stilled.
Slowly, he lowered the book.
“What?”
“You used Bastet’s symbols,” Shen Yuan said sleepily. “But another's words.”
“The Faceless God,” Shen Jiu realised.
“Mm.”
The sound did not confirm nearly enough for Shen Jiu’s liking.
For a moment, the room felt very quiet.
Then Shen Yuan shifted closer, tucking himself shamelessly along Shen Jiu’s back. One arm slid around his waist. His nose traced the line of Shen Jiu’s neck with unbearable familiarity.
“Don’t worry, Jiu-ge,” he purred. “I'm fond of you.”
“That's not too reassuring.”
“I decided to keep your sweet, prickly self as soon as I felt you calling for me.”
Shen Jiu’s throat went dry.
“You decided?”
“Of course.” Shen Yuan’s mouth brushed near his cheek, not quite a kiss. “You wanted something powerful. Something intelligent enough to understand you. Something that belonged only to you.”
Shen Jiu did not breathe.
Shen Yuan’s arm tightened around his waist.
“So I came.”
The words settled between them, warm and terrible.
Then Shen Yuan added, entirely too pleased with himself, “I will let you keep me too.”
Shen Jiu shut his book with more force than necessary.
“You're insufferable.”
“You like that.”
“I tolerate it.”
“Poorly.”
Shen Jiu elbowed him.
Shen Yuan laughed softly and finally pressed a kiss to his cheek.
Heat bloomed across Shen Jiu’s face.
Outside the window, the moon briefly duplicated again.
“…go to sleep, A-Yuan” Shen Jiu managed, unwilling to see the reaction to the new found closeness.
Shen Yuan’s purr vibrated against his back.
“Good night, Jiu-ge.”
Shen Jiu closed his eyes.
He did not say it back.
But when Shen Yuan’s tail curled more securely around his ankle, Shen Jiu made no move to shake him off.
