Chapter Text
Shen Qingqiu woke up cold.
He shifted slightly, flexing fingers in a vain attempt to find someone warm to cling to, and when those fingers met nothing but empty air, he blinked open his eyes.
It was dark in his room. It had been dark for some time now—ever since his arm was torn off and he let the wound fester as a reminder of his pain (and of his own failure, but Shen Qingqiu refused to acknowledge that part of it).
But now… Having remembered his lost arm, he moved to stare down at his hands. Both of them. Whole. And a part of him—a part he'd thought he'd lost—still being usable.
The arm that had been ripped off had become reattached to his shoulder, and while it was clear it had been ripped off—there were small gaps between the flesh where the injury had been and stitches lined the surface—it was back!
He stretched his fingers again, half in awe. The entire limb remained kind of numb and tingled when he moved it a lot, but he was grateful to feel so much weight there again.
With a strange sense of relief flooding through his chest, he whirled around to—
—To what? Who could he talk to, when he was alone in his empty room?
He should've been happy that he was by himself. Luo Binghe had been ruthless in the past few weeks, after all. This was a rare opportunity for Shen Qingqiu to enjoy some peace and quiet.
Except it was cold, and it was dark, and Shen Qingqiu was half-naked, his robes pooled around him like a bamboo green lake.
At least usually, when Shen Qingqiu woke up from one of their entanglements in bed, he could feel Luo Binghe's warmth radiating through his skin into Shen Qingqiu's own chilled body. The man was so, so warm. And he would usually be asleep at that point, so all Shen Qingqiu could feel would be possessive arms wrapped around him, encasing him in said warmth in a way that…ironically almost made him feel safe.
He knew it was Luo Binghe he needed protecting from, but after so long being trapped in this cage, it was nice getting to relax for even a tiny bit. And he'd turn over and stare at the Demon Lord, studying every feature of his and remembering the boy who'd once looked up to and admired him.
Even now—even as ferocious as he was—there was still a softness to Luo Binghe's features. It was especially prominent when he was asleep, painting him as a child rather than a demon.
And then Shen Qingqiu would wonder, sometimes even daring to reach up and gently stroke that smooth, jade-like skin, Would things really have been so different, if I hadn't sized you up so quickly?
And he'd draw his hand back after the thoughts eked out, even as imperceptibly as that, squeezing his heart and making him feel ill. It made him want to rip the organ out. He didn't want to feel any sympathy for Luo Binghe—the demon didn't deserve any.
Yet his heart would wonder, somewhere deep down: Would you have remained that innocent, doe-eyed boy, if I'd—if I'd been a touch kinder?
Shen Qingqiu shook his head, wanting to free it of the tendrils of forlorn regret that jabbed into his brain. He focused instead on getting washed, scowling at the fact that this time, Luo Binghe hadn't cleaned him before leaving, so his inner thighs felt uncomfortably dry and sticky. At least occasionally, the Demon Lord would clean him up in his strange capacity for gentleness, and as much as he hated to admit it, Shen Qingqiu could find some enjoyment in the aftercare sessions. It was nice to forget for a bit that he was hated—to feel, even momentarily, what it would be like to be loved.
But he doesn't love you, his heart jeered suddenly. He began scrubbing more ferociously, but that stupid organ wouldn't shut up: Don't forget that. He's a monster, and you let him become even more monstrous. Now he hates your guts, and even though there are people you've cared about, no one loves you anymore. Now you're just a broken doll, to be used by your own monstrous disciple any way he wants before he casts you aside again. Now you're just a fuck—
He slammed the lid down on those thoughts as fast as he could, but the damage had already been done. He could feel his eyes stinging, now laced with red, and his body had flushed as a strange fire began burning down below.
Shen Qingqiu hated it.
He felt so dirty. He'd once been the Immortal Peak Lord of Qing Jing Peak, illustrious and unsullied, but now he really was just a broken doll. But what he hated most right now was the way his body had reacted when he'd thought of Luo Binghe using him—the way that strange fire had painfully scalded his insides yet also filled him with a cavernous hunger—to the point that his lower regions had even stirred.
Gritting his teeth, Shen Qingqiu slapped himself in an attempt to snap out of whatever bizarre thing had taken hold of him.
When his body finally cooled, he let out a sigh. Seeing how much Luo Binghe's ministrations had affected him this time, he decided it was best he try to avoid the Demon Lord for a while, so he threw on the top of his inner robes and an outer robe, hobbling to the door. He pushed it open and poked his head out.
"Ah, Shen—Shen-xianjun," one of the guards exclaimed awkwardly.
Shen Qingqiu pretended he hadn't noticed the man struggling to decide how to address him, resulting in the almost sheepish tone he'd said the respectful "xianjun" in, as if Shen Qingqiu was no longer worthy of that and they all knew it but they were still using it to save him some face. It made his insides boil, but he also needed to maintain his own dignity, so he merely coughed instead of mentioning it. "Where's your lord?"
He was horrified at how scratchy his own voice was. Luo Binghe really had been an insatiable beast the night before, especially with the aphrodisiacs, causing Shen Qingqiu to nearly lose his voice from how much screaming he'd done. He was suddenly relieved that the guards were clearly intent on not alluding to the mortifying fact they'd heard everything.
The guard rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at his companion. "Uhh, about that…" He trailed off.
The other guard made some sort of gesture, and Shen Qingqiu turned sharply toward her, but she immediately froze and gulped, standing back to attention.
He did not like the looks on their faces.
Shen Qingqiu whirled back around toward the first guard, narrowing his eyes. "Well?" he demanded. "Where is Luo Binghe?"
It was funny—in an almost cruel, warped way—how much stronger and faster he seemed to get with adrenaline spiking his veins. He wasn't sure where the adrenaline was coming from—fear? Panic? Disbelief?—but it was driving him forward, pushing off his feet every time he landed hard, his hair whipping about, his eyes wide.
Even his arm, which had only just been reattached, suddenly felt less numb and stiff, as he forgot the pain.
What he couldn't forget were the guards' words.
They'd looked back at him uneasily, lips twitching as they tried to figure out how to deliver the news: "Junshang is…out. Fighting."
"Fighting? Fighting who? Cang Qiong Mountain Sect?" Even saying that out loud, he doubted that was it. Luo Binghe had been battling Cang Qiong Mountain Sect for so long now that everyone was accustomed to it, and while Shen Qingqiu had some complicated feelings over his former sect, it wasn't enough to warrant the guards treating the news so delicately, as if he'd cry upon hearing it.
Sure enough, they hesitated again. "It's…not Cang Qiong Mountain. Or, it is, but not exactly."
He was beginning to lose his patience. "So what is he fighting?"
"He's fighting against Yue Qingyuan."
A mangled cry cut through the air, ripping him from his thoughts, and he skidded to a breathless stop, looking around wildly. That had been Yue Qingyuan's voice. He'd sounded like he was in pain.
His eye quickly caught sight of the two—it wasn't hard to, considering Luo Binghe's roiling demonic energy and the sword glare from Yue Qingyuan's Xuan Su—a sure sign that things were serious, because the Qiong Ding Peak Peak Lord rarely drew his sword without good reason. The entire area was thus surging with their qi, strong enough that it practically bowled Shen Qingqiu over. Both of them were obviously powerful, but Shen Qingqiu believed objectively that Yue Qingyuan was certainly stronger.
But at this moment…
His eyes widened when the waves of qi cleared enough for him to see what was happening. And it currently looked as if Yue Qingyuan was outmatched in his exhaustion, probably due to how much fighting he'd been doing lately. He and Luo Binghe practically battled everyday now, and he was mostly doing so without any back-up. The effects of such strenuous activity were evident: his face was pallid as he kneeled and clutched his chest, blood spattering the ground before him. The same red liquid dribbled from his lips and from a gaping wound in his chest—close to his heart.
"Stop!" Shen Qingqiu shouted, filled with too much emotion of something that he rushed forward before he could think better of it.
Luo Binghe's carmine eyes dimmed to black, and he turned sharply. "Shizun?"
"Qingqiu," Yue Qingyuan gasped.
Shen Qingqiu didn't speak, fighting the current that was their qi to arrive at Yue Qingyuan's side.
"Qingqiu, it's really you," Yue Qingyuan said, struggling to get back up using Xuan Su as support. "How—How have you been? Have you—?" He had to stop when a violent coughing fit took over him, causing more blood to fall from his lips.
"Stop," Shen Qingqiu repeated even as his lungs burned with the need for air after the excursion. He reached a hand out, instinctively wanting to help the other man up. "Just…stop. Stop fighting, stop talking, stop everything—"
"Shizun."
The cold voice of his disciple—suddenly so close behind him—sent a chill down his spine. He jumped and spun around, only to be met with Luo Binghe's disapproving eyes—and they were glowing carmine again.
"Shizun, what do you think you're doing?" he asked quietly.
"I'm not… I'm not doing anything wrong," he managed to retort. "I'm only trying to get you idiots to stop before you get yourselves killed. You can't punish me for being sensible."
Luo Binghe smiled, but it was a smile without mirth, not reaching his flashing eyes. "That's the thing. I'm not in danger of being killed here. Yue Qingyuan, on the other hand…" He gestured at the man who was struggling to stay standing. "I think I could punish you, Shizun, for protecting him."
"Don't you dare touch him," hissed Yue Qingyuan, and suddenly he was lunging at the Demon Lord again, swinging Xuan Su at him.
"Yue Qingyuan!" Shen Qingqiu shouted, chasing after them in an attempt to get between them. It worked, because both parties paused with him in the way, and he shot his former sect leader a glare. "Why are you doing something so pointless!?"
"It isn't pointless to save you, Xiao Jiu."
Shen Qingqiu opened his mouth but found that he couldn't speak. As much as he didn't want to, his heart clenched involuntarily at the man's words—at the notion that he was someone worth saving, even after all that had transpired.
But he could already feel Luo Binghe's demonic energy surging again in rage, and he steeled himself to be his usual cruel, ungrateful self.
"Don't be fucking stupid. You're not strong enough to save anyone."
"Xiao Jiu—"
"And stop calling me that!" he snapped. "I've told you already—you lost the privilege to use that name a long time ago."
"I know. And that's why I can't let you down again."
"You—!"
"Enough prattle," Luo Binghe snarled, sweeping forward until he could grab Yue Qingyuan by the collar, lifting him off the ground. He raised his other hand, which was holding a ball of red flame. "Let's see if you'll finally learn to shut up when half of your face is melted off."
"Let him go!"
"Shizun," his demonic disciple responded, voice deceivingly calm, "both of you need to be punished for this transgression, and I'd say destroying Yue Qingyuan before your very eyes isn't a bad way to do so."
"If—If you don't let him go, I'm never giving you the time of day again!"
"You already didn't anyway," Luo Binghe shot back, but his fingers tightened around the fabric of Yue Qingyuan's collar anyway—a detail that was not missed by Shen Qingqiu.
"If you do this, Luo Binghe, then you really are going to cement yourself as nothing more than a fucking lowly, pathetic little beast in my eyes, and I will never, ever consider you as anything else, the way I've started doing. Instead, I will resist you. I will fight you at every turn, no matter if you're cruel or kind, and I will never forgive you. I'll kill myself before I ever submit to you again."
The promise in that speech was strong enough that it gave Luo Binghe further pause.
"Listen," Shen Qingqiu whispered. "Spare him, and I'll stay with you willingly."
"Xiao Jiu, no," Yue Qingyuan tried to say, and Luo Binghe shot him a glare.
"Fine," the Demon Lord finally said. "I'll spare Yue Qingyuan's life."
Shen Qingqiu began to relax—
"But that doesn't mean I'll let him go."
His eyes widened, but before he could demand answers on what he meant, Luo Binghe was already tossing Yue Qingyuan aside.
"Guards!" he roared.
Demons swarmed into the opening from all around them, and Shen Qingqiu wondered where they'd all been hiding and what they must've seen. He had only a moment to be embarrassed at the idea before they began hauling Yue Qingyuan away.
Shen Qingqiu felt the urge to step forward and yell at them to halt, but he knew doing that would only expedite his and Yue Qingyuan's deaths, so he could only keep quiet and watch in forced calm.
When he glanced at Luo Binghe, the Demon Lord's gaze was pinned on him, flashing intermittently between red and black. His eyes carried an intensity that made Shen Qingqiu swallow even as the rest of the Demon Lord's face—and his voice—remained impassive as he declared:
"From this day forward, Yue Qingyuan, leader of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, is my prisoner."
Despite making the roundabout promise to fight Luo Binghe less if he spared Yue Qingyuan's life, Shen Qingqiu found that he had no chance to implement it in reality. And that was because Luo Binghe had suddenly decided to ignore him, and in a strange twist of fate, not having his demonic disciple seek his…company now made him feel antsy.
He now, in a way, kind of wanted Luo Binghe to do the shameless things he had been doing before Yue Qingyuan's botched rescue mission, because at least then he'd know what the Demon Lord was up to. And maybe if he even somehow managed to satisfy him in some way, through fighting him less, he could better guarantee their own safety.
With Luo Binghe gone and with himself locked up in the tower, however, he had no clue what the Demon Lord could be doing to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect's leader in the dungeons. Time was also passing quickly, and the autumn warmth of reds, oranges, and yellows were soon swept away by winter whites and blues, the chill becoming even more consuming. It seemed to cling to Shen Qingqiu's robes and to his skin, like frost spreading in his veins, and he wondered how Yue Qingyuan was doing in the dungeons—without anything to keep his body warm.
He tried demanding answers from the guards, but their faces only contorted before they became stone-cold and expressionless. It was only later during that day that he realized the guards had told Luo Binghe of his questioning, because he received no food. He remembered staring down at the empty table, where a maid had delivered only a single empty bowl—clearly meant to mock him—and coming to the realization that he was being punished.
And that Yue Qingyuan was probably sharing his punishment—was probably suffering even more for it.
After that, Shen Qingqiu stopped asking.
But he couldn't stop himself from wondering. He'd already told himself he didn't care about Cang Qiong Mountain anymore, and he believed that was true. He had no reason to. None of the other Peak Lords had ever truly cared for him—they'd been quick to suspect and blame him when Liu Qingge died, and not even Shang Qinghua's betrayal could erase the fact that Shen Qingqiu was the worst of the Peak Lords in their eyes. After all, it had been his abuse that led to his demonic disciple turning against the cultivation world, and now everyone else was dealing with the consequences of that. They probably blamed Shen Qingqiu to hell and back—even more so now that the kind and benevolent sect leader had been imprisoned.
Shen Qingqiu slammed his palm onto the table, growling to himself. Yue Qingyuan, you fucking idiot! Why can't you simply be like everyone else and hate me too?
If he did, Shen Qingqiu wouldn't have to feel guilty about not caring about Cang Qiong Mountain anymore. Unfortunately, he had always been Yue Qingyuan's weakness—for some godforsaken reason.
It made him irritated. Frustrated. Angry beyond belief. His Qi-g—no, the boy he was before he became Yue Qingyuan—was the one who abandoned him first! Didn't Shen Qingqiu deserve to resent him for it? But now Yue Qingyuan just had to go acting like he was some righteous hero, which only made things worse.
Why couldn't you have simply stuck to your decision and forgotten about me? Why do you have to try and save me now, when it's all so pointless? Why didn't you save me back then instead? He buried his face in his hands. Why do you have to make it so hard for me to hate the world?
He couldn't hate the world. Not like this. Not when Yue Qingyuan was still in it, doing his best to save him.
His heart trembled painfully. Shen Qingqiu detested the feeling. He'd always valued his own life above all others—and yet…
This was…different. He felt different, now that his entire world had changed.
He stood up. If Yue Qingyuan and Luo Binghe are determined to act out this stupid play of hero versus villain, then fine. I'll simply have to give them a hard enough fucking time that they both regret it.
With that plan in mind, he bundled himself up in some light silks and set out for the courtyard despite the fact it had started snowing. The demon guards simply acknowledged him and let him go; he was allotted a small amount of time outside when he'd been "on his best behaviour," so they had no reason to deny him. Even with that knowledge reassuring him, however, he could already feel one of the guards tailing him like a shadow. It made him snort. Do they really think I can't feel their presence?
Of course, it could even be on purpose—them mocking him by saying, "Even if you can feel us, you can't do anything about it. We'll always be there in the shadows, watching. Exactly as Junshang commanded."
As soon as he thought of Luo Binghe, the determination within him set itself even harder—like water forming into ice. It helped with the winter chill, and for once, Shen Qingqiu wasn't afraid of the cold. Even when it left his skin wine-red and stinging, he didn't falter.
He stopped before the main palace building of the Huan Hua Palace, knowing that it was close enough to the water dungeon to send a message—and also close enough to where Luo Binghe's wives would generally be milling about, meaning that they could all see him if he made a scene. Shen Qingqiu thus turned to the guards and narrowed his eyes. "I wish to see the Demon Lord," he declared, taking a menacing step forward.
The guards glanced at one another.
"Junshang is busy," one said.
"And even if he wasn't," the other added, "who are you to demand to see him?"
Shen Qingqiu felt his lips twitch in a wry smile. I have a feeling that if I anger him enough, Luo Binghe would come to me anyway. "I have something I want to talk to him about."
"Well, as we said, Junshang is currently preoccupied."
"Alright." He gathered the silks of his robes in his hands and gracefully lowered himself until he was sitting on a carved stone bench. He shut his mind to the fact that this was where he and Luo Binghe had once shared a sesame ball while musing over the bamboo, back when Luo Binghe had been…slightly more patient—before Shen Qingqiu had enraged him so. But Luo Binghe's current resentment was exactly why Shen Qingqiu was doing this, so he put on a skin-deep smile and said, "Then I'll wait for him out here."
The guards frowned at one another but finally shrugged and let him be.
Shen Qingqiu kept his countenance austere and impassive, although his mind was already drifting as his eyes darted from the palace to the dungeons. He wasn't sure how long it would take and he may become affected by the cold, but he was half-counting on that for his current plans. He could also already predict Luo Binghe's wives coming to the balconies and watching him in curiosity, stoking the flames of gossip—a fact that he welcomed, since it could even help news travel faster to Luo Binghe about Shen Qingqiu's waiting.
He wasn't sure how much time passed, sitting there and staring out at the pure empty white expanse of snow. The guards didn't speak and the grey sky hardly changed, so there was no indication of how long it had been. Yet he simply sat there, waiting.
It was a skill he'd honed from when he was with Qiu Jianluo. For people as volatile as him and Luo Binghe, Shen Qingqiu was accustomed to enduring.
And so, at long last…
When Luo Binghe finally landed in the courtyard, his eyes were blazing pure scarlet. He stalked over, looking extremely like a violent thunder cloud, with his face twisting. "What do you think you're doing!?" he snapped, his lip curling back to reveal his sharp canines.
"Waiting—" Shen Qingqiu began, but before he could even finish, Luo Binghe had already reached his side and hauled him upwards.
"You're not going to see him," he snarled.
He said nothing, merely gazing back at him.
As the silence stretched on, Luo Binghe appeared to grow even more frustrated, and he threw Shen Qingqiu to the ground. "You're always like this. Attempting to go against me."
Again, he said nothing.
"Well, not this time. This time, you're going to obey."
Shen Qingqiu let out a startled hiss of pain when Luo Binghe suddenly grabbed his newly reattached arm, yanking him upwards once more, until he was bundled in the taller man's arms. Then Luo Binghe lifted him and carried him unceremoniously into the Huan Hua Palace.
The wives gathered at the doorway quickly made way for the two of them, their tittering voices fading into absolute silence as they watched the scene unfold. But as soon as Luo Binghe was about to stalk off with Shen Qingqiu, one of them suddenly voiced a question:
"Junshang, where are you taking him?"
"Back to the tower."
"If—If he makes you so angry, leave him be," she continued. "We'll make sure he can't do anything."
Shen Qingqiu paused. I know this voice, he realized, and that caused him to freeze.
Luo Binghe noticed his reaction—how could he not? He was literally in the man's arms, so any motion, even one as near imperceptible as going slightly rigid, was noticeable. Luo Binghe thus stopped and turned to see who had spoken, and something sparked within his eyes when he saw that it was Qiu Haitang. Almost immediately, he let out a quiet smile—one that didn't entirely reach his eyes. "Ah, that's right," he said smoothly. "You hate him too."
"Mn," she confirmed, casting a look at Shen Qingqiu. "I understand Junshang's anger perhaps more than anyone. That's why… Why doesn't Junshang forget about him for today? I can help lift Junshang's spirits."
Shen Qingqiu's nose twitched as his lip rolled back slightly in disdain. There was no missing the flirtatious undertone in her voice. He'd never cared much about sex—even though his reputation had been sullied for visiting brothels, he'd never done anything there, and besides…the brothel women he'd visited were simply like any other women. In fact, they'd been nice enough to him that he didn't regard them with any disrespect.
But this… For some reason, Shen Qingqiu couldn't help feeling somewhat wronged. He'd always appreciated Qiu Haitang's kindness when he was a slave in the Qiu household, but she'd never realized the extent of his mistreatment there. He'd even spared her life during the Qiu family massacre, and yet things had turned out like this, with her hating him. She would never, ever hear him out, despite the happier past memories they shared.
And now she's…trying so hard to take Luo Binghe into her bed. That part felt wrong too. He furrowed his brow. It's disgusting how obvious she's being, desiring to curry favour like this. Have you no respect for yourself? And why for Luo Binghe? No one should want someone as awful as my little beast.
In his aggrievement, his fingers gripped at Luo Binghe's robes, and the man glanced down at him.
Perhaps amused by his discomfort, Luo Binghe suddenly smiled. "Sure," he said. "Come with me." He dumped Shen Qingqiu onto the floor before turning to take her hand, leading her away.
Shen Qingqiu let out a grunt of pain as he fell, mostly due to his ankle landing weirdly, but he didn't say or do anything else. He remained stock-still as the Demon Lord and his consort walked off, hiding his expression with his curtain of black hair.
Ning Yingying quickly rushed to his side. "Shen-xiansheng…"
"I'm fine," he said, pushing her away.
"But Shen-xiansheng, your leg…"
"I'm fine," he reasserted, shoving her hand away and dragging himself up. He stumbled slightly but continued to refuse her assistance.
"Let's get you back to your room," she finally suggested.
"No. I'm not going back."
"But Junshang…"
"He was right." Shen Qingqiu met her eyes, giving her a very dry smile. "I'm always going against him." And with that, he hobbled back out into the courtyard.
"Shen-xiansheng…!"
"Oh, just leave him be," the Little Palace Mistress sniffed. "If he wants to give up the warmth of the palace for the bitter cold, then he deserves it. We're not allowed to touch him anyway." Here her voice carried a trace of bitterness, probably remembering the time she'd torn his nails off and whipped him raw and bloody in the water dungeon, only to be faced with Luo Binghe's wrath.
Exactly. Just leave me be, Shen Qingqiu thought, dusting the bench off and taking his seat again.
From there, he kept waiting and the wives kept watching. But as the hours passed by, they grew tired and bored and began dispersing, and Shen Qingqiu was alone again. Except when comparing it to how he'd felt in his room, it was much colder now, seeping deep into his bones. He tightened his arms around himself, huddling in the snow. This is to get revenge on both Luo Binghe and Yue Qingyuan, he told himself fiercely. He repeated it as a chant while he waited.
But even determination could not prevent the effects of the winter chill, and Shen Qingqiu began to feel a prickling pain in his fingers, which were now an ugly, intense red. He blew on his hands and rubbed at his arms, but he really didn't have much to stave off the cold, and soon he was becoming drowsy…
Someone suddenly stirred outside the courtyard, and Shen Qingqiu lifted his head. "Binghe…?"
The newcomer scoffed. "So you really are going against Junshang again, after all," they said.
It was a girl's voice, and she was rather short in stature, which meant… Not Binghe, Shen Qingqiu thought blearily with a hint of disappointment. He lowered his head and prepared to keep waiting, closing his eyes.
"Hey, you—don't ignore me!" she exclaimed, approaching him with her lantern. She nudged him with the toe of her boot. "Junshang kept worrying about you, so my mistress sent me out to check on you. Do you not see how kind they both are to show you any pity at all?"
"Oh," he said.
"You—!" Her nostrils flared and she shoved him harder. "My mistress is supposed to be having a wonderful time with Junshang right now, but your defiance is causing problems! Who do you think you are!?"
So your mistress is Qiu Haitang, huh. Figures. He narrowed his eyes at her but was too sapped of strength to fight back, so he stayed quiet.
"That's right," she sneered, mistaking his silence for surrender. "You're only an insignificant little cockroach. So you know what—I'm supposed to take you back to your room if you're out here and then report back to them, but based on Junshang's mood earlier today, even he would say you deserve to be punished. That's why I'm simply going to leave you out here.
"That way, Junshang and my mistress can continue to enjoy themselves once his mind has been put at ease, and you can simply reap what you sow. See if you freeze to death!" She let out a final huff of distaste before whirling around and stomping off, extinguishing the lanterns hanging from the outer wall as she went.
Shen Qingqiu snorted. Sure, because the last person that tried to torture me had it go so well. He thus settled back into the routine of waiting, curling up even further on the bench like a sleeping cat.
Unfortunately, there was one thing the handmaiden was right about—he was freezing, and it wasn't long until he began hacking violently and even drifting in and out of consciousness. It was during one of his bouts of being awake—albeit a very dizzied and hazy wakefulness—that he heard a commotion outside.
"Why wasn't I informed!?" a voice yelled.
Shen Qingqiu stirred, but he couldn't even lift his head. Even his eyelashes felt heavy, clinging to his cheeks as if weighed down by frost. All he could do was keep coughing, tasting iron in his throat and now in his mouth too. The violent carmine painted his pale skin so thoroughly, a stark contrast against the white of the world.
"Shizun!"
He felt two strong arms wrap around him, and he was immediately enveloped by an overwhelming warmth.
"Binghe," he whispered, curling in closer to that heat.
The man carrying him stiffened, and he let out a low growl. "I'm here." He reached upwards to touch his forehead. It was a comforting coolness that took the edge briefly off the heat, but immediately after, he drew his hand back as if he'd been scalded. "Fetch me that handmaiden! Now!" he roared.
There was another flurry as people rushed to obey the Demon Lord, and Shen Qingqiu strained to pay attention. But the black washing over him was aggressively pulling him back under, and it felt as though as quickly as he'd picked him up, Luo Binghe was already cursing out the handmaiden who'd been sent to check on him. Through the dizziness, Shen Qingqiu saw her sobbing and trembling and begging for forgiveness on all fours, and he felt a wicked satisfaction despite his terrible state.
"You were trying to kill him," Luo Binghe suddenly said. There was a quietness to his voice, but it was laced with something dangerous and snarled. "That was it, wasn't it? You wanted him to die."
"N-N-No," she cried, "I wouldn't dare! Junshang, please—"
"The lanterns. Every single one of them along this side of the wall has been extinguished. Every single one, and you still dare say you weren't trying to kill him!?"
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! This lowly one deserves to be punished." She was sobbing now, banging her head repeatedly against the floor as she kowtowed.
The corner of Shen Qingqiu's lip ticked upwards.
"Yes," Luo Binghe breathed, clearly doing his best to calm himself down despite his seething. "You deserve to be punished." He turned to the guards by his side. "Take her out to the main courtyard and execute her."
"Yes, Junshang!"
"What?" She jerked upwards with alarm filling her entire face. "No, please! Junshang, please have mercy! I-I didn't mean to…" She continued wailing as the guards dragged her away, her voice rising to a shrill pitch as she shrieked her throat raw. The voice was certainly grating, filled with a near terrifying level of desperation and fear, but Shen Qingqiu nonetheless felt that wicked satisfaction quickly spreading through him like a warm fire.
But speaking of fire…
Luo Binghe now shifted his attention back to the feverish bundle in his arms. "You," he growled out.
Shen Qingqiu shuddered at how enraged he sounded, and he shrank further into Luo Binghe's arms. Shifting his face into the larger man's chest felt strangely comforting in that regard, even though it was currently this exact man he was now on guard against.
His movement did seem to pacify Luo Binghe slightly, who let out a long exhale. "Why must you insist on defying me?"
The exasperation in his tone caught Shen Qingqiu off-guard. "I…" He tried to speak, but another coughing fit overtook him and more blood spattered onto Luo Binghe's robes.
The younger man stiffened. Then he quickly stood up, carrying Shen Qingqiu with him, making his way to what was probably the tower. The trip was fast, but Shen Qingqiu slipped completely into unconsciousness at this point, and it was only later when he awoke in his own bed.
He blinked a few times. It was dark in his room, but it felt a touch different from the past few weeks—there were slivers of light shining through the windows, casting silver crescents on the floor like little moons. The dust motes dancing in the air from these areas of light resembled the snow outside, creating a more soothing atmosphere that had been missing lately.
"Hmm…" There was a voice following his movement, and he noticed a stirring shadow beside him, causing him to jolt. But when he shifted his face, he saw that it was Luo Binghe who was sitting by his bedside, asleep, and he found himself relaxing.
Shen Qingqiu swallowed. He wasn't entirely sure what emotion it was that filled him, but it was light, like the sky outside. He raised his hand to brush hair from Luo Binghe's forehead.
The action revealed his demon mark in all its scarlet, flame-shaped glory, but the softness of his sleeping form rendered it less intimidating.
He really does resemble a child when he sleeps, Shen Qingqiu mused, recalling Luo Binghe's younger self and how delicate his features had been back then—like some fragile white lotus. Like this, he resembled that little boy the most, with his long eyelashes fanning out over his pale, tender cheeks.
Remembering the past always felt strange. He could never be sure how much he regretted or reveled in his past actions. There would probably always be parts of him that resented this demonic disciple who'd found success in spite of his suffering, but…
Now there was a new thought—a tiny yet persistent one, in the back of his mind—that wondered once again what it would have been like had he been somewhat kinder.
Shen Qingqiu inhaled sharply. Stop. It's too dangerous to think like that. You— He stopped. Sniffing, he moved until he saw what he had smelled: a bowl of congee, perched on the nightstand by the bed.
Still steaming hot.
"Luo Binghe, you…"
"Shizun!" he could already imagine the young, baby Luo Binghe saying, beaming up at him with eagerness and shyness alike. "Shizun, this disciple made you some congee!"
There it was again. That strange feeling of something light, yet with it a mild stinging pain. Shen Qingqiu lifted his hand, only to find it shaking, and it reached out to touch Luo Binghe's head of its own volition.
His hair is so soft, he thought absently, stroking the younger man's hair. As he continued doing so, his mind quickly began to wander: Binghe, sometimes I really don't understand you. We clearly hate each other, yet you—
"Shizun."
Snapping out of his reverie, he glanced down to meet a gaze as black as coal.
"Shizun," Luo Binghe repeated, his fingers curling around Shen Qingqiu's wrist. There was a slight cracking sound as he gripped too tightly. "You're awake."
"Mn."
Neither spoke for a while, but eventually Luo Binghe began to rise—yet he didn't let Shen Qingqiu go. "You should eat something to gain some strength back." He pushed the congee toward him. "You've definitely gone and given yourself a fever."
"Mn."
Luo Binghe frowned. "You…"
Shen Qingqiu glanced up at him.
"Why did you do something so reckless?"
"I wanted to request an audience with you, but you kept denying me."
"Because you continue to be so defiant," Luo Binghe snapped back. He got up completely and began pacing, muttering to himself, "This is getting ridiculous. Why won't you simply obey? I can't keep punishing you like this if all my servants are getting the wrong impression that they can touch you however they like."
"Can't they?" he replied calmly. "I have no power here. As that handmaiden said, I'm nothing but 'a little cockroach.'"
"That bitch was out of line," Luo Binghe snarled, smashing his fist into the wall. A large crack immediately formed all along the stone.
Shen Qingqiu watched the rubble that fell before turning back to his companion. "Where exactly was she out of line?"
Luo Binghe fell silent.
"As disgusting as her comments were, she has a point, doesn't she? I'm nothing but your prisoner here. No one respects me."
"But they should respect me."
"And? Everyone knows you hate me. It's not as if I'm one of your wives. I'm merely your prisoner, remember?"
There was an extra long stretch of silence following that, and Shen Qingqiu finished his congee before finally asking, "Luo Binghe. What exactly is my status here?"
"You're mine," the other man suddenly growled, surging forward and grabbing his wrists with one hand. His arms were pinned above him, causing the empty bowl to clatter to the floor, forgotten.
Shen Qingqiu let out a sharp hiss as Luo Binghe exerted more force. "What good…is it…being yours…when none of your wives or servants or guards can tell?"
"You want people to know?" Luo Binghe reached down and grabbed ahold of Shen Qingqiu's thigh, pressing his knee down between his legs. "I can guarantee they'll know."
"Don't—" Shen Qingqiu cried, but his voice broke off in a gasp as Luo Binghe applied more pressure between his legs.
The younger man smirked, leaning in until he could bite down on his companion's ear—hard enough to draw blood. "Don't worry," he whispered, with a trill to his voice that indicated his excitement even through his ragged breathing. "Since you have a fever, I'll be gentle."
That was the last warning Shen Qingqiu got before he was suddenly flipped over. And so, Shen Qingqiu found himself—after so many weeks of Luo Binghe ignoring him—once again becoming one with him. The bed that had felt so big and empty now felt small. In fact, his entire world felt small. Luo Binghe had filled the space around—and inside—him, so all he could smell, all he could feel, even all he could taste was Luo Binghe.
Shen Qingqiu felt an extra hard thrust send his head snapping back, causing him to inhale sharply as he bit down on his lip. He still felt like he was burning, but it was different from the fever. That had made him feel groggy and dizzy, but this felt sharp, like Luo Binghe was piercing so deep inside him that he'd even pierced his heart.
"Stop holding it in," came Luo Binghe's voice, low and warm against the column of Shen Qingqiu's neck.
Shen Qingqiu only bit his lip even harder.
The other let out an irritated huff, pushing him so as to change the angle. "Even now," he said sullenly, beginning to mouth along Shen Qingqiu's throat, "you choose to defy me."
He didn't say anything—couldn't say anything even if he wanted to. His eyes were stinging now, growing wet as Luo Binghe quickened his pace. Shen Qingqiu thumped a fist against Luo Binghe's chest as a result, and the younger man glanced down at him.
You liar. You said you'd be gentle. Shen Qingqiu glared back at him, attempting to blink back his tears.
Luo Binghe paused, and his lips slowly curled. "Shizun, did you know? I like your expression best when you're being bullied."
"You—!" Having released his lip to cry out in outrage, Luo Binghe seized the opportunity to push in extra fast and rough, causing Shen Qingqiu to break off in a loud cry.
"Your voice too," Luo Binghe murmured, leaning in close to bite down between the other's neck and shoulder. "I think it sounds most like music when you're screaming."
And after that, with one more harsh thrust, Luo Binghe was done, finding his relief in a shuddering, feverish Shen Qingqiu.
"You beast," he croaked out, trying to stop convulsing after Luo Binghe had pulled out. "You didn't show any mercy despite promising to."
"Hmm, and why should I?"
"You promised!"
Luo Binghe chuckled, reaching down between Shen Qingqiu's legs again. As soon as he jolted at Luo Binghe's touch, the latter began stroking rhythmically. "My apologies, Shizun. But this little beast"—the last two words were accompanied by an extra strong tug—"prefers only to show deference to those who have treated him well."
He opened his mouth but only a wail came out, much to his frustration. He wanted to rebuke him, but Luo Binghe's hand was so precise that it made his thoughts fall flat, as if every single one was dissipating into dust.
When he arched his back, Luo Binghe's eyebrow lifted. "Hmm? I've said all that, but it would appear that your body thinks I'm treating it well regardless."
He narrowed his eyes, hissing back, "Nonsense—"
"Is it really nonsense, Shizun? Just look at how your body's reacting."
He didn't want to look. It was too shameful.
"Come now, don't close your eyes," Luo Binghe cooed. "Watch how your body surrenders to me." When Shen Qingqiu's eyes fluttered open because Luo Binghe had pressed kisses to his eyelids, he smiled. "Good boy. Exactly like that. See? Look at how pliant your body is being."
Shen Qingqiu's gaze flicked toward the mess below. Mortification filled his system first, but there was something else too… It was small and buried deep but nonetheless there, wriggling and expanding and even growing as Luo Binghe continued his ministrations. Perhaps it was because he'd been anxious and agitated for so long, but this strange feeling made him want to give up—to let Luo Binghe take over, if only so his cold, tired body could get some warmth and rest.
"Mmm, there's my good little kitten," Luo Binghe said in a purr. "Now can you submit to me just one more time? All you have to do is let go and—"
Shen Qingqiu swallowed. Then he squeezed his eyes shut and…he let go.
That strange feeling washed over him like fire, hot and crackling, and the only thing he was really aware of was the heat spilling out of him—along with Luo Binghe's hand pulling away.
Through the fuzziness in his ears, he heard Luo Binghe's amused voice: "There we go. Now that wasn't so hard, was it, my kitten? All you had to do was obey for once."
Shen Qingqiu shifted, wanting to tell him off, but his brain had already disintegrated into ash from the fire roaring through his body. He wasn't sure if it was because of the fever or what they'd done moments ago—probably both—but he quickly succumbed to its dark embrace, letting himself fade into nothingness, if only because then he wouldn't have to feel the heat leaving his body.
Meanwhile, his companion eyed him as he fell asleep. He was sinking too, except he found himself swimming in perfect clarity, sharp and cold and pronounced. He felt more awake than he'd ever want to be as he considered what had happened moments ago.
It should have been enough.
He'd only wanted to tease him, and to hopefully punish him for testing his patience earlier. He hadn't expected to get such compliance from Shen Qingqiu. The fact that the man had completely given in to him…
It really, really should have been enough. And it almost was, yet…Luo Binghe wanted more.
He stared down at the sleeping form before him, finding within it once again a softness that was rarely there when this person was awake. But at this moment, he was curled up like some docile cat—he was even curled up close to Luo Binghe, as if he was seeking his warmth.
"Shizun…"
"Mmm," he hummed back. And when Luo Binghe scratched the other's scalp, he reached out to clutch at the robes that were now pooled around Luo Binghe's waist, curling in even closer.
He paused. In that instant, he found it somewhat hard to breathe.
This was so much of what he wanted. A Shen Qingqiu who was soft. Gentled. Submissive. A Shen Qingqiu who would seek intimacy with him without his barbs, like a rose without its thorns. A rose that would bloom solely for Luo Binghe.
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Shen Qingqiu's temple. "Shizun," he whispered, "isn't this so much better? Why can't we simply have this all the time?"
When Shen Qingqiu didn't answer, only letting out a sleepy noise and shifting slightly, Luo Binghe smiled wryly at his lack of a reply.
"Ah… It looks like even when you're like this, there remain some things where you choose to go against me.
"But even then…" He softened and he moved to lie more comfortably beside Shen Qingqiu, pulling him in close so that he was flush against his chest. "If you're like this, I don't mind as much. Like this, it's…okay."
He gazed down at the man in his arms, studying the swollen pink lips, the slender nose, and the long eyelashes fluttering slightly against alabaster cheeks—cheeks that were given new life through the scarlet splotches painting his skin. It made him bend down to kiss him.
When the other squirmed and whined, Luo Binghe's lips curled. "Don't fight me," he said, before pausing. He'd almost called the other "Shizun" again, but he was suddenly filled with enough desire to want to try calling him something else. To try calling him…
"Shen Qingqiu. Xiao Jiu."
The name was like a magic spell—Shen Qingqiu stopped moving and leaned into Luo Binghe's chest, humming an affirmation.
This was—just nearly—enough.
If only we could be like this always, he mused. If we were, then—
"Qi-ge…?"
—Maybe we would be okay. Luo Binghe stiffened. "You…"
Shen Qingqiu didn't even react. He simply continued to sleep, as though he hadn't uttered one of the most infuriating things Luo Binghe had ever heard.
"Shen Qingqiu, you bastard," Luo Binghe sneered, and he reached up to squeeze the man's neck slightly.
His brow furrowed but he stayed asleep, and Luo Binghe had half a mind to apply more pressure…
That was until he heard the slight wheezing to Shen Qingqiu's breathing. It calmed him enough to get him to let go, and he eyed the man carefully. That's right. You've just caught a fever. So I need to be gentle. Gentle…
Humph. As if you were ever gentle to me.
"Xiao Jiu…" He pressed into the other's space as his lips twitched upwards in a mirthless smile. "I can be kinder to you, Xiao Jiu, but…you really do need to be punished first." Here he sighed, biting again at the same mark he'd left minutes earlier, making sure to draw blood. When Shen Qingqiu jerked in pain, his smile grew. "And I know exactly how to do it."
That was when Luo Binghe closed his eyes and let himself fall away into an angry, stormy darkness—a darkness that eventually led him straight to Shen Qingqiu.
When Luo Binghe landed lightly on the ground of his dreamscape, he lifted his head and quickly found Shen Qingqiu's slender frame within the sea of cultivators. He was wearing bamboo green in this particular memory, with a high collar and broad sleeves. It made him truly look like an immortal of some kind.
The sight made Luo Binghe stop momentarily. If nothing else, his shizun was truly a beautiful man.
"Shizun…"
Before he could reveal himself, however, one of his dream constructions approached Shen Qingqiu, causing the man to turn around and begin interacting with them. Luo Binghe thus stood back and watched, and he felt his lips twitching upwards wryly as he realized that his dream constructions were all of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect disciples—many of whom were based on people he remembered from Qing Jing Peak.
He'd been attempting to think of a setting that Shen Qingqiu would feel less threatened in, so he wasn't surprised his brain had conjured up Cang Qiong Mountain. He was annoyed by it though.
But that was also when he noticed some of the other disciples—the ones not from Qing Jing Peak. He recognized them by their uniforms. They were from Qiong Ding Peak. The Peak belonging to that man. Yue Qingyuan.
Thinking of the current biggest thorn in his side made Luo Binghe scowl, but then he got an idea. An awful, terrible, lovely idea.
And at that moment, one of his dream constructions moved of their own volition and suddenly announced, "Shen-shishu, are you busy? Our shizun would like to see you." Having said that, the construction glanced directly in Luo Binghe's direction, practically meeting his eye in signal.
Luo Binghe grinned slowly. Then he snapped his fingers and his appearance fell away, until it was replaced by a completely new image…
And it was with this new look that he finally approached Shen Qingqiu.
He waited until the other man had noticed him, looking up at him in a quiet, contemplative manner, with his eyebrows even drawing together. In response, he simply smiled and waved, calling out to him cheerfully: "Xiao Jiu."
Almost immediately, any trace of cordiality vanished from Shen Qingqiu's already harsh features. "Zhangmen-shixiong, you should know better by now than to call me that."
"And what's wrong with it?"
"As shixiong and shidi, we should refer to each other properly. Please consider our status and the state of our relationship—we do not share anything that would warrant such a nickname."
Luo Binghe, wearing Yue Qingyuan's face, chuckled. He was amused and somewhat elated; it felt weirdly exciting, to test Shen Qingqiu like this. And to hear Yue Qingyuan being told off in this way, with his use of that nickname being denounced so readily… Well, it was rather satisfying.
But he wanted to see if it could be more satisfying.
"If that's the case…" He reached out and grasped Shen Qingqiu's wrist, causing the man to start and glower up at him. "What would you say, then, if Luo Binghe called you that?"
"Why would he call me that?"
"Perhaps he wishes to be closer to you." He leaned in, smiling. "Perhaps he wants the intimacy we share."
Shen Qingqiu's face darkened and he yanked his arm free, spinning around. "He has no right to call me that either. And Zhangmen-shixiong, we're not close. Don't pretend that we are."
"Then who are you close to?"
"What does it matter?"
"Doesn't it? Isn't it lonely to be so alone?"
Shen Qingqiu did not reply.
"Xiao Jiu~"
"I told you not to call me that!" he snapped, whirling back to glare at him. "What part of that do you not understand?"
He gazed back at him, searching his face. "I understand perfectly. The one thing I don't understand is your relationship with Luo Binghe."
Shen Qingqiu's eyes widened slightly, and he promptly turned his face away. "There's nothing there for you to understand."
"But I want to."
"Why? What is the point?"
His lips curled—not necessarily in joy, but in a light huff that was almost a puff of laughter. He reached for Shen Qingqiu again, except this time, rather than grab his wrist, he pulled him in by the waist.
"What are you—!?"
"The point," he breathed, "is that I want to make clear your relationship with him, and your relationship with me."
And before Shen Qingqiu could do anything else, he kissed him.
The man grew rigid in his arms immediately, and Luo Binghe's lips continued to curve upwards. He shifted his face, pressing in even closer into Shen Qingqiu's mouth, with his tongue darting out to lick at the seam of his lips.
That must have jolted Shen Qingqiu out of his stupor, because he began struggling—but his captor wouldn't let him go.
Luo Binghe shut his eyes. He took the time to relish this kiss—to really taste Shen Qingqiu on his tongue and to enjoy his warmth…especially since he knew that this was one of the few ways he could. He wasn't unhappy though. Seeing Shen Qingqiu reject Yue Qingyuan so thoroughly… Even if it was ultimately him being rejected, it was almost reassuring to experience it for himself, wearing another's face.
Eventually, when he moved again and pulled slightly away for air, Shen Qingqiu managed to rip himself free and jump back. Luo Binghe opened his eyes and saw that Shen Qingqiu's were red and wet, which only made him smile harder—
—Even when Shen Qingqiu slapped him across the face for it.
The force of the blow was so strong it pushed his head aside, and it stung fiercely. Luo Binghe simply stood there for a few moments, registering the occurrence and his pain. Only the physical pain, however, because he hadn't stopped smiling.
"You—" Shen Qingqiu cut himself off as soon as he started, sounding incredibly frustrated. His eyes had gone from shining with unshed tears to actually being underlined with those pearls, yet he apparently still refused to let them fall.
Luo Binghe gazed back at him, always smiling. He tilted his head. "Yes, Xiao Jiu…?"
"What the fuck is wrong with you today!?" he finally burst out.
He stepped closer. "What do you mean?"
Shen Qingqiu stepped back. "You're not—You're not usually like this! Why the hell are you…?"
"Call it stupidity, Xiao Jiu. To let myself…go, for someone like you."
"Enough—stop it—"
"And why should I stop?"
"Because you can't keep doing this! Especially not now, when I belong to someone else now—"
This time, both of their eyes widened.
Despite himself, Luo Binghe did stop. "What did you say?" he breathed. "That you belong to…who? Who do you belong to?"
He wouldn't look at him. "No one."
"That isn't what you said."
Shen Qingqiu flew into a rage, glaring at him with what appeared to be years of pent up frustration, yelling, "I never said a name! I never said anything! Yue Qingyuan, why do you suddenly care so much now!? All those years I wanted you to look for me despite the person above me, and you never showed! And now when I don't want you to do all these unnecessary things, why do you insist on doing them!? I—"
"You're right. You do belong to someone else."
He fell silent, but he shot him a warning look.
Luo Binghe wasn't afraid though. In fact, he was happy. Had he bared his identity from the start, even if Shen Qingqiu had uttered all this, he may not have believed him. So this satiated him slightly. "Xiao Jiu, do you hate me?"
He waited, yet Shen Qingqiu did not reply.
The longer it took, the more his happiness soured, but he refused to give up. Instead, he walked toward him, tilting his face. "No matter. In truth, I'm more curious…" He trailed off momentarily.
At this, the shadows beneath their feet suddenly surged, until they became a tidal wave that flew up toward the sky, wrapping this bright, sunlit bamboo grove in darkness. And when it fell away, it was no longer Yue Qingyuan standing before Shen Qingqiu.
"…Regarding how you feel about me."
It was Luo Binghe.
Shen Qingqiu startled awake, gasping for air—and this time, it wasn't cold that greeted him. This time, it was warmth.
Blinking open his eyes, he frowned. Why is it suddenly so hot in here? It was a welcome reprieve from the icy isolation he'd been suffering for the past few weeks, but it was almost too hot, as if…
Shen Qingqiu's eyes grew wide. As if I was back to sleeping with Luo Binghe again. Which he had. Apparently. The proof was right in front of him: a wall of a chest, solid and sturdy, followed by pure muscle rippling under pale skin when he traced it downwards.
Shen Qingqiu felt as though he'd been thrown into a fire. Not only was he in bed with Luo Binghe—having done that together—the man had him completely in his grip! He tried to move, but Luo Binghe's arms were locked tight around him.
He eventually had to give up, finally falling still on the bed. The cobwebs left by that dream also had yet to let go, clinging to him as stickily as the Demon Lord currently was…
He remembered the details of his dream and shuddered. At least it had simply been a dream. In spite of the tight grip he always kept on his emotions, especially in regards to his past, his brain had dared to conjure a Yue Qingyuan that had felt almost too shameless—almost to the point of cruelty in his…love.
Shen Qingqiu glanced at Luo Binghe again. In his dream, that man had also asked him about his feelings for the Demon Lord. It was because he'd first accidentally let slip that he belonged to him now—and while he himself felt like it was a ridiculous notion, it was partly the truth, wasn't it? Luo Binghe had said it himself before he bedded him hours ago.
He hated admitting it, and he fought this man tooth and nail—and he would keep doing so—but wasn't he trapped once more, the same way he had been back with Qiu Jianluo?
The only difference was that…Luo Binghe's cruelty was, in many ways, his creation.
Shen Qingqiu paused at that. He was thinking more of the past, comparing it to his current life, but the ideas that rose unbidden in his mind made him shake uncontrollably.
He didn't want to do it. But…
As he contemplated things, his trembling seemed to rouse Luo Binghe. Or perhaps it was his stare. Whatever it was, this sleeping tiger suddenly opened his eyes.
"Shizun," he murmured.
Shen Qingqiu did not respond.
"Shizun, what's wrong? Are you cold?"
He was being gentle again. Why was he being so gentle?
Luo Binghe pressed in closer, his arms tightening around Shen Qingqiu's torso. "I'll warm you up," he said sleepily.
The man seemed to fall right back asleep after, so relaxed and at ease, and yet Shen Qingqiu was drawn as taut as a bowstring ready to shoot. It was warm. And nice, and comforting, and reminiscent of the feeling of how it was after Luo Binghe had his brutal way with him and held him as he fell asleep, except this time it was even more tender.
And it almost hurt more, knowing that.
He wasn't sure how much time passed together in bed. Luo Binghe must have been really tired after the entire fiasco yesterday, considering Shen Qingqiu's rebelliousness.
He himself almost dozed off back to sleep a couple times, and it was eventually actually Luo Binghe who got up first.
The man shifted, rolling over a bit and finally loosening his hold around Shen Qingqiu. The sudden drop in temperature without Luo Binghe's arms around him served to wake him up a tad, but not enough for him to be able to shake off the drowsiness and jump out of bed the way he wanted to.
Instead, Luo Binghe sat up first. He stretched and grunted before suddenly stopping, which caused Shen Qingqiu to wonder blearily what he was doing. Despite his curiosity, however, he kept his eyes firmly shut and tried to keep his breathing stable, not wanting the other to realize he was already awake.
Yet Luo Binghe did not seem to do anything.
Shen Qingqiu did not feel or hear anything, and besides his body remaining untouched, he didn't hear Luo Binghe move away either. It made him wonder what he was doing. Was he sitting there, staring into space? Or was he…watching him?
He's usually so cruel. Where did this sudden benevolence come from? Is it pity? Or satisfaction? Or…
He said he wanted to know what our relationship was in that dream last night. Does that mean he…no longer hates me?
That thought was far too perilous. He found his shoulders tensing very slightly, but he did his best to stay motionless. He was afraid of revealing that he was actually awake.
He was left in this haze for a while until his internal questions were finally answered—
—By something tender and warm pressed against his forehead.
"Good morning, Shizun."
This time, he really did tense. His eyelashes began fluttering as his lips trembled, and he slowly opened his eyes as if he had woken up only seconds ago. "You…"
"I saw you get shy." The man's voice was teasing as he hooked some of Shen Qingqiu's hair around his finger. He stroked the knuckle down from the ear to his cheek.
Shen Qingqiu's entire face turned red. "What 'get shy'?" he snapped, jerking upright. "I was woken up by your staring and felt on guard!"
"Okay," he said. He was smiling back at him, looking very composed and satisfied.
He stared back at him in a mild panic, his eyes narrowed. There were so many things he still wanted to say to this…former disciple of his, or demon, or monster. But after such a messy entanglement the night before, what with the fever and the nightmare he'd had, he couldn't find the words. In the end, he swallowed and wet his lip, hesitantly beginning, "You…"
"What?"
Shen Qingqiu pressed his lips together. "I had a dream last night."
"Oh~?" There was a lilt to Luo Binghe's voice as he slanted his head.
"In it, you…" He had to stop. These words were really too impossible to say.
Time passed in silence, but Luo Binghe didn't rush him. He appeared to be in a particularly good mood today, smiling as he waited patiently—a high contrast to his fury from the night before.
Finally, Shen Qingqiu found enough courage to speak. And because he was still Shen Qingqiu and the other party was still Luo Binghe, the words he chose to utter were the most cutting form they could take: "I dreamed of Yue Qingyuan."
Shen Qingqiu watched him carefully after saying that, not rushing to clarify any further… And sure enough, the smile on Luo Binghe's face froze as soon as he heard those words.
"About what, exactly?"
His mouth twitched in an almost wry smile. You know exactly what happened. You also know the answer is going to piss you off—so why are you even asking? Aren't you setting a trap for yourself and your own rage? He paused at that, parting his lips slowly. Ha, in that case, I'll help you out. For such a beast of a man, if you want to trap yourself, I won't protest. Out loud, he replied without much expression: "We kissed."
"Is that so?" Luo Binghe barked out a laugh, although his countenance had darkened and Shen Qingqiu could make out a vein popping near his neck. "Just a kiss?"
"Yes."
Luo Binghe was silent for a beat before leaning in closer, his eyes blazing despite them remaining their usual shade of jet black. "Did you enjoy it?"
"I don't know." His tone was flat and dull—completely unreadable.
"So why bring it up?" In contrast to him, there was more emotion to his former disciple's voice, like a simmering flame. But it still held a forced lilt to it as well, matching Luo Binghe's forced smirk.
"It felt significant."
The smirk became a sneer.
"Like a sign."
"Shizun," Luo Binghe suddenly snapped, lifting his hand to grab him by the throat, "what exactly do you intend to say? What kind of sign could that pathetic Yue Qingyuan appearing in your dreams give you?"
Shen Qingqiu met his gaze without flinching. "I wouldn't know."
"'I don't know' again?" repeated Luo Binghe mockingly. "A man who attempts to save you suddenly shows up in your dreams and—" He cut himself off and suddenly squeezed violently, causing Shen Qingqiu's vision to briefly flash black. It brought him back to the memory of pain from yesterday and he squeezed his eyes shut, choking for air.
Luo Binghe didn't seem to notice, continuing, "Never mind. You not understanding may truly be the case. Someone as high-minded as you, who looks down on all kindness and care, would struggle to comprehend such things.
"Should I be grateful, Shizun? That your heartlessness can supposedly extend to others beyond me?"
"Then you tell me," he wheezed, which was shocking enough that Luo Binghe's fingers loosened slightly. He squinted one eye open to look back at him.
"What?"
"You tell me…what you think my dream meant."
Luo Binghe's face twisted.
Shen Qingqiu's sight kept pulsating to darkness, but he was determined as he said, "If I dream…of someone who has tried to save me…kissing me, what does it mean?"
There was no reply at first. Then Luo Binghe suddenly dropped him. "Nothing."
Shen Qingqiu fell and panted hard, sucking in mouthfuls of cold air as he gripped his chest.
"It means nothing."
He didn't say anything. What he wanted was to provoke Luo Binghe; such a despicable thing had happened in the dreamscape, and even though this monster of a disciple was acting as if he didn't know anything, Shen Qingqiu doubted it had nothing to do with him. This would thus be his revenge. At this second, he didn't intend to explain or calm him in any way—especially since anything he could say would set Luo Binghe off further.
Sure enough, his silence was enraging as well.
His companion slammed him down onto the bed before crashing their lips together. Unlike the kiss in the dream, it was less so desire than it was possession, with Luo Binghe biting down on him harshly. The taste of iron filled both their mouths.
Shen Qingqiu struggled beneath him, pushing at his chest. It only made Luo Binghe clench his fists harder, leaning down and licking into his mouth. Even when Shen Qingqiu bit the invading object, Luo Binghe didn't react. His tongue snaked forward and intertwined with Shen Qingqiu's, over and over again.
Shen Qingqiu soon couldn't breathe again. It made tears spring up in the corners of his eyes, feeling as hot as the wetness between their lips.
"If you don't know the answer, Shizun, then…" His voice vibrated low against the other man's mouth. "What do you think this kiss means?"
He glared back at him with bloodshot eyes. "I don't understand the notions of a beast."
Luo Binghe laughed. This too was a heated rumble, but the laugh itself was cold and filled with scorn. "You're such a frustrating creature, do you know that? Why can't you ever say or do anything besides showcase how truly horrible you are? I've been training you for so long—yet you remain as apathetic as before. It's enough to drive one mad."
"With the way you are now, am I supposed to feel any sympathy for you?" he snapped back.
"But you feel it for Yue Qingyuan, don't you?" He pushed down further, causing Shen Qingqiu's wrists to crack beneath the pressure of his hand. "Isn't that why you're describing your dream from last night the way you are? You want me to feel jealous, to feel like I'm about to lose you to him."
Lose what? You don't even love me.
"Well, I'm telling you now that you're not going anywhere—I'm never giving you to him."
Hearing that filled him with some kind of incandescent rage. He raised his chin and spat, "You and him are the same, always assuming what I want and doing things to me based on your own twisted beliefs that you project onto me. One a fool and one a monster—what sympathy could I feel for either of you?"
"You say that, yet you do so much for him." That hold was not loosening, and in Shen Qingqiu's struggling, his bones cracked again, with a sharp pain shooting down his wrists.
"I haven't."
Luo Binghe smiled contemptuously. "You really think I don't know what you were aiming for last night? You were trying to beg for Yue Qingyuan's life."
"I was merely trying to seek an audience with you."
"About freeing Yue Qingyuan."
Shen Qingqiu snorted. "So you assume."
"What else could it have been about?" Luo Binghe pressed their foreheads together as he searched the other's eyes, his own narrowed and dark. "You can deny it all you want, Xiao Jiu, but you are always softest around him."
Hearing his old nickname made him still.
And seeing that made the other's lips lift bitterly. "It isn't an assumption anymore when it's true, Shizun."
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Then what if I didn't make an assumption for once? What if I asked—instead of running into the snow and waiting for hours to meet with me in his name, would you do the same for me?"
Shen Qingqiu shifted his gaze back to Luo Binghe's. Some of the vexation had receded like some scarlet tide, leaving a bitter blackness that reflected his own image back at him.
"I want to believe that you were waiting for me."
"You…" He had to stop as the words caught in his throat. He wanted to deny Luo Binghe as well, but something about seeing such a look in his eyes—more akin to a dog than a wolf—gave him pause.
"I know what you want to say," Luo Binghe said bitterly. He lowered his head, their foreheads touching again, except this time his eyes were hidden behind his bangs. "But I don't want to hear it. I only want to hear one thing.
"You asked me before what status you hold here—what you are to me. And I've decided. To prove to my wives, to my servants…to everyone—and that includes Yue Qingyuan—that you are mine, I want you to prove something as well. I'll let that Yue Qingyuan go after that. I'll even forgive you for all you've done to me. As long as you do this one thing.
"Marry me, Shen Qingqiu. Prove that you want me."