Ice Above the Water and Deeper Down Below

by este_and_Adriatique

Summary:

Jun Wu finds out about the fate changing spell and proposes his own conditions to Shi Wudu.

Chapter 1

The invitation, that Jun Wu's junior officials brought in, was written on expensive rice paper in an elegant, ornate handwriting. The ink, not yet completely dried, left slightly smeared, barely noticeable traces on the edges, thereby spoiling the perfect clarity and subtle idea. If one doesn’t look closely, one wouldn’t have noticed, however, Shi Wudu was always prone to notice the little things, the details, even the most insignificant things, to which most would not pay any attention, or even would not doubt about anything at all.

Shi Wudu accepted the scroll from the hands of Jun Wu's junior official with a short nod designed to indicate gratitude, and immediately became wary inwardly – no, nothing like that, at least not obvious. Just an invitation to the Emperor's Palace, polite, a little distant, as such an invitation should be. But something immediately scratched inside while he was looking at the exquisite interlacing of hieroglyphs, dark on light, applied carelessly and at the same time elegantly, neatly. Something difficult to explain, something not having – yet – a name, but definitely not liked by Shi Wudu.

Whether the time at which this invitation was brought in the evening, even if it is not late yet, even if it barely colors everything around in blue and gray, but still it was an evening. A time when somewhat different matters are being resolved than those that could have arisen between them.

Whether it was that he had little in common with Jun Wu. Him personally. Since everything related to prayers, heavenly officials decided in front of everyone, in public. When many of heavenly officials gathered in a huge hall full of pompous splendor were clearly bored, having fun however they could by gossiping around. Probably, they did not allow themselves to yawn quite openly solely out of the rules of decency, which were simply necessary to comply. Otherwise, many people probably would not have failed to yawn a couple of times.

And, if any entertainments gathered him and Jun Wu together, it was all limited to festivities, when they hardly exchanged even a dozen words. And which Shi Wudu had recently begun to allow himself to skip. The spiritual power that he possessed, and the opportunities that opened up to him, completely allowed him to do so without fear of incurring unpleasant consequences. The thought flashed to refuse the invitation too, but something told Shi Wudu that this would be a mistake, and a significant one. After all, it's one thing not to come to some sort of a celebration, at which there will be nothing interesting anyway, and it's quite another to refuse the Emperor's personal invitation.

Shi Wudu imperceptibly clutched the scroll in his hands, thoughtfully and discontentedly, but did not allow himself to say anything out loud, except a polite agreement and a promise to appear by the agreed time.

"What could he possibly need of me?" Shi Wudu frowned, continuing to think over what he had read, going over the words – slowly, unhurriedly – weighing each one of them, evaluating, mentally tracing every line, every letter anew. "Why is that? After all, spiritual communication array is much more convenient," he hmphed, sorting through the options. "To do what? Emphasize the importance of the moment? Show his influence?"

None of these ideas seemed worth paying attention to. Shi Wudu grimaced again with displeasure – he had already managed to change into his inner robes, and now he had to tinker with his outer robes again to go out. The fabric did not obey, slipping under his fingers, crumpling and tangling, and Shi Wudu pulled himself up with displeasure. Nothing has happened yet, so why these spare thoughts.

Qingxuan was not in the Palace – he was probably having fun somewhere with all this worthless rabble of his that he called friends, as usual, and that was trying to take advantage of his opportunities as Wind Master. And Qingxuan either didn't understand this, or he didn't care, as long as there was someone to chat with and drink with. This promiscuity, which usually angered Shi Wudu so much, turned out to be very useful this time – for some reason he did not want to talk to Qingxuan right now, nor explain where he was going at such a time. Perhaps it was Qingxuan, of all possible people, who could have noticed that something was wrong. That something was bothering him. That he seems too inattentive and focused at the same time. And Shi Wudu certainly could not allow that.

 

* * *

 

What was waiting for him in the Emperor's Palace, did not diminish his doubts at all, rather, on the contrary, only strengthened them. Shi Wudu looked with undisguised bewilderment at the chambers to which he was escorted by the same silent and inconspicuous junior officials of Jun Wu. As befitted junior officials of the Heavenly Emperor himself, they were not distinguished by excessive talkativeness or lack of good manners. Although there were far fewer junior officials than one would have guessed, and than Shi Wudu himself was used to having at his disposal. He hadn't even thought about it before, but now all these details, everything that was happening, seemed more and more strange with every passing moment.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” one of the junior officials, dressed like everyone else, in colors of Jun Wu – bright scarlet, snow-white and warm gold – politely pointed Shi Wudu to a low table that fit in the farthest, inconspicuous corner of the room. "The Emperor will come back soon," he added apologetically, warning in advance of the impending expectation.

These rooms were the least reminiscent of business or appeals, or their usual duties. No, if there was one thing they didn't have appeal of, it was to talk about serious things. Shi Wudu involuntarily raised an eyebrow as he sat down at a small table decorated with ornate carvings, in which the outlines of dragons hovering among the clouds could be guessed. Such a skillful creation probably not only cost a lot, but was also a real rarity, which is not found everywhere.

It would be fine if only that. No, the whole situation, literally every little thing, was saying, that it was nice to bring a mistress to such rooms, and enjoy an evening for two, indulging in bed pleasures, rather than someone with whom nothing special connected you. Nothing to do so much. Shi Wudu pulled closer one of the pillows scattered in abundance on the soft carpet – silk, the finest embroidery, and the fragrance – spicy, barely perceptible, but so seductive. Some kind of exquisite, aromatic oil, which was impregnated with the weightless fabric of the pillows. Shi Wudu could not determine which one – he himself was indifferent to such things, and there was always a much more worthwhile use for his gold bars.

Not only the pillows, everything around was an inexpressibly rich fusion of silk, aromatic oils and candles, which golden lights only slightly dispersed the semi-darkness enveloping the room. And thus gave even more intimacy to this place. Shi Wudu touched one of the candles, ran his finger over the melted wax, frozen in bizarre waves – quite a lot of it. Which meant he was expected. And that they are not just waiting, but waiting, carefully prepared. Carefully and in advance.

"These candles," Shi Wudu looked around in displeasure, trying to figure out what he should feel in the midst of all this strange splendor. After all, hundreds of oil lamps usually shone in the Emperor's Palace, illuminating the halls and rooms with warm, diffused light. And not the candles, which really were more suitable for some private office in a low-grade tavern. Of course, separated from the rest of the hall by curtains – certainly bright and tasteless. He had seen enough of such taverns while he was still common mortal. And he never understood why there was so much ostentation in all this. As if bright colors could replace bright feelings.

“Apologies, and thank you for the waiting,” a soft, insinuating voice pulled him out of his memories and reflections.

Shi Wudu raised his head and was about to get up himself, but Jun Wu stopped him with a casual gesture.

“It's unnecessary,” unexpectedly imperious notes were woven into his intonation, and Shi Wudu had no choice but to obey this tone and this wish. “Water Master,” he bowed his head respectfully, and Shi Wudu did the same in response, feeling impossibly wrong – after all, it was fitting for him to greet Heavenly Emperor standing up, and not vice versa. “I took the liberty to assume that you would not refuse to share with me these modest rooms and a small conversation.”

He didn't say anything special, that's absolutely nothing. Nothing strange. Nothing alarming. Nothing unpleasant. But Shi Wudu felt as if he was on thin, the thinnest ice. And not just thin, but already gone with winding cracks that do not bode well. And it was getting harder and harder to get rid of this feeling with every passing moment. If initially he still had any doubts, now they have completely disappeared with these too polite intonations and excessive deference.

The conversation flowed smoothly and unhurriedly, like the sleepy waters of northern rivers after a long winter. Shi Wudu listened attentively to every word that was said, but he could not understand what all this was about. From time to time he brought a cup of tea to his lips – a subtle, tart aroma touched his lips, settled on them with a bitter aftertaste. The warmth of the bowl in his palms warmed him pleasantly, and if it weren't for the circumstances, Shi Wudu would even like it, all this drowsiness and relaxation. He would, perhaps, gladly succumb to this – it was not so often that he had the opportunity to think about himself, and not about someone else, and do something other than business.

But behind all this relaxation, something else was too clearly felt, and he did not allow himself to just lean back on the silk pillows, feeling the fabric slide, and how warm his fingers were from the tea he had not yet drunk entirely.

Jun Wu asked about recent assignments, and Shi Wudu replied with restraint that his junior officials could handle most of the tasks, he himself descended only in exceptional cases. Such as that water demon who chose a deep, cold lake as his haven, and for a long time annoyed the inhabitants of one tiny village in the north. Of course, it was possible to turn to Martial Gods – after all, demons were their concern, but Shi Wudu did not miss the opportunity to get even more influence, even more opportunities. Water has always remained water, obeyed him and followed him. And it didn't matter if it was about merchant ships wishing a safe journey among the restless waters of the sea, or about such a demon belonging to the water and having the same essence. The fan in his hands could be an elegant thing, commanding the water currents and waves of the seas. And it could be a weapon, dangerous and strong enough to be in no way inferior to the weapons of Martial Gods. And Shi Wudu always used both sides of his fan, feeling how the paper links were transformed in his hands, how they exuded trembling and fragility, then steel rigidity, depending on what he needed at the exact moment.

Jun Wu asked if he has enough junior officials, and Shi Wudu replied that yes, there are enough, and that there are still immeasurably more people willing to get closer to his capabilities than he needs. And what he could support with his spiritual power. Or rather, his spiritual power would have been enough for as much, if not more, but he wasn't going to waste it. Others could think as much as they liked that he preferred not to do anything himself, that he avoided going down into the world of common people, but this was only partly true. Because Shi Wudu knew very clearly that if you rely on others in everything, then one day these others will either fail or make mistakes, and all the consequences of someone else's rashness will still fall on you.

Jun Wu asked how things were going in his temples, and Shi Wudu slowly took a few small sips of tea before nodding ceremoniously and thanking him for his concern. He rolled the cup in his hands, thoughtfully examining the amber transparency of the drink in it, and imperceptibly inhaling for some reason the aroma he particularly liked. As if he hasn't tasted tea before. The thought provoked a grin, because his Palace served a wide variety of teas and their types. But here and now – his always cold hands, carefully holding the cup, warmed faster than from the warmest, fur-lined clothes that he wore when he had missions in the winter in the north, than from any other heat available to him.

But the longer this exchange of meaningless pleasantries went on, the more Shi Wudu lost all patience. He was already not distinguished by this virtue, but when every word he uttered did not carry any meaning, when the answer to every question asked was already known, his patience melted much faster than usual.

And yet he couldn't help himself. No, nothing like that, no disrespect, nothing too harsh or violating the rules of decency. Shi Wudu's question sounded polite, calm, but this calmness was deceptive, and politeness was permeated with ice.

“I would still like to know exactly why you called me here,” Shi Wudu put the cup aside with some regret – although there was quite a bit of a tart-smelling drink at the bottom, the warmth emanating from it did not go away, and he wanted to prolong these moments as long as possible. "I think it's important enough that you've chosen such a late hour."

And it seems to have hit right thing. Jun Wu's calmly indifferent face instantly changed, losing its imaginary relaxation and patronizing softness. In his dark eyes, something flashed, difficult to catch, something that could not be precisely defined, but it was safe to say that it did not carry anything pleasant. Shi Wudu tensely froze, thinking about where and in what exactly he could have made a mistake. Or what of what he has done recently could hurt Jun Wu. But nothing like that came to mind, no matter how he went over the moments – recent and more distant, quite insignificant and significant, those that concerned the cold waters of his seas and those that affected the martial art of Martial God Jun Wu.

And, of course, he didn't guess right.

Because the next moment, a scroll with hieroglyphs and symbols inscribed on it lay on a low elegant table between them. Sharply intertwined with each other, made with ink tarnished by time, they concealed something dark and dangerous, something that was not worth even touching, let alone trying to use. Shi Wudu didn't have to study the meaning of this spell for too long. He knew it. He knew it too well, much better than someone who was neither a demon nor a banished deity should have known.

The fate changing spell.

"I suppose I don't need to explain what I know?" Jun Wu looked as peaceful as usual again, the way he appeared to them in the Martial Hall, when they had to listen to many hours of speeches sometimes about trifles committed, or at festivals, when he watched the performances with the same absent–minded smile and rarely, as if reluctantly, touched the cup of wine with his thin lips. It was as if there was nothing special about this knowledge, and nothing special was happening between them.

"I suppose you don’t need to," Shi Wudu replied in the same tone and slowly, almost unconsciously, reached for the fan. He opened it mockingly under Jun Wu's wary gaze and hid his face behind it, as he used to do when he did not want to show either his uncertainty or his doubts.

It was stupid to deny all of this and pretend that he did not understand how the scroll with the spell of changing destinies related to him. If Jun Wu somehow found out the truth, then he certainly found out all of it completely, down to the smallest details of this spell and down to the smallest details about who got an unenviable fate and who bore the brunt of this spell. Shi Wudu was not worried about himself – he knew what he was doing, and he knew that one day, one way or another, he would have to pay for what he had done. But Qingxuan... Shi Wudu bit his lip, thinking about who the consequences of his action could affect much more than himself. He did not regret what he had done for a moment, but concern for Qingxuan rose in him in a disgustingly icy wave, as if the waters of his own seas suddenly became beyond his control, and he could not oppose them.

“What will you do now, Your Majesty?” Shi Wudu waved his fan several times – openly, casually. Without giving the slightest opportunity to notice or feel everything that he himself felt at that moment. The answer seemed obvious, even too obvious, but something told Shi Wudu that it wasn't that simple. Otherwise, why these conversations filled with false politeness and equally false interest? And why is this room decorated in the most exquisite way, filled with spicy aromas of oils and the subtle freshness of green tea?

"Well, the very first thing I would ask is to change the address to me to a less formal one," Jun Wu said and mocking note sounded in his voice. He also put the cup aside and folded his hands under his chin, looking as if they were solving some small, insignificant issues, and there was not a hint of this scroll lying between them, concealing so much forbidden and dark. "I won't reveal anything to anyone," he said slowly, making Shi Wudu even more wary.

Such proposals – they always had a second part, the one where you had to find out what would be required in return for silence. Shi Wudu was neither stupid nor naive to allow himself to think that his offense would just go unpunished, by Emperor's greatest mercy. No, most likely, he had to learn about the true purpose of their meeting next, and Shi Wudu could not say that he wanted to possess this knowledge.

"I will not send you into exile, as I should have done for such a thing," now there was anticipation in Jun Wu's voice. Such, undisguised, full of confidence that Shi Wudu will not refuse, no matter what he will hear. And no matter how disgusting it was to admit it – yes, Shi Wudu would not refuse almost any request, anything. And not for himself at all. Qingxuan's fate worried him much more, and he couldn't, just couldn't afford not to at least try to protect him once more. "I won't do any of this if you agree to be my lover."

But Shi Wudu, perhaps, did not expect this.

He could imagine a lot.

The wealth that would have to be given away in the shimmering gold bars, bright and fascinating, in the semi-darkness of the hall in his Palace.

An influence that would have to be rejected – hundreds of colorful lanterns that soared into the night sky at the Mid-Autumn Festival.

The services that would have to be performed, perhaps, with his skill over the waters obeying him, raising waves and gently guiding river flows.

But not that Jun Wu would want him himself.

Shi Wudu did not betray his surprise in any way, only the fan froze in his hands for a moment, and the links of the pendant that decorated his artifact let out a silvery chime. He wouldn't have agreed to such a thing if it was only about him and no one else. He wouldn't. Yes, it would be so easy to submit to Jun Wu's desire and share intimacy with him, and it wouldn't even matter how rude he wanted to be. But Shi Wudu hated this even more, not because of sharing a bed with someone you don't want, but because he wasn't used to and wouldn't obey anyone, even if it was the Heavenly Emperor himself.

But it clearly wasn't just him. Qingxuan. It would be foolish to expect that Jun Wu would not touch him, if the truth about the fate changing will be revealed. And he will have every right to do so, since the stolen fate was not the fate of common person, but belonged to a deity. And no one would have allowed this to continue with impunity, otherwise how many others could have appeared to take advantage of this opportunity to ascend.

Too vividly imagined what was waiting for them both then. A dusty, dilapidated house somewhere on the very outskirts of a tiny village, lost among sparsely vegetated hills and dry rivers, which almost no one knew about. The life of common people, filled with hardships and incessant work, gray and exhausting, such as Shi Wudu knew so well, to such details that he did not want to repeat. Or rather, he might have repeated it for himself, but not for Qingxuan.

"Fine," Shi Wudu forced himself to say after a long silence. “I agree," it sounded with an effort, no matter how he tried to make his voice obey and sound impenetrable and detached. He gripped the fan so tightly in his hands that he almost dropped it on the ornate carving of the table, among the half-empty bowls and wetly glistening droplets of steam that settled on the light surface. "However, I do not want it to affect Qingxuan in any way," he added harshly, almost immediately controlling himself. “If he finds out at least something about fate changing, or somehow gets involved in it…”

"You didn't have to say all this," Jun Wu cut him off with an impatient gesture mid-sentence, and then began to smile sweetly again. “Do you really think that at least someone here is not aware of your affection for your brother? And that without him you will not obey anyone, and you will not belong to anyone either,” now their conversation has taken a much less relaxed course, colored with seriousness, absorbing all the possible distrust of both of them. “Did I answer your question?”

“Quite,” no one will ever know what this calmness, this careless nod of the head, this fan laid aside cost him. A fan that he wanted to open, tossing up the waters of all the available rivers nearby, disturbing their sleepy, mist-covered surface, and remind him of what he himself is capable of, and that his spiritual power certainly does not belong and has never belonged to anyone else. Jun Wu didn't expect any other answer from him. Of course, everyone knew about Qingxuan. Of course, it wasn't hard to guess that Shi Wudu would agree to do anything for him.

"I suggest we finish our tea first," Jun Wu offered politely, now openly enjoying what he got into his hands. “It's not worth wasting such a wonderful drink,” he deliberately carefully turned the cup in his hands, raised it to his lips, without even looking at Shi Wudu anymore, as if someone else's forced consent and his own anticipation were sweeter for him than what would follow. “And the rest can wait.”

Shi Wudu managed to cope with himself and pretend that nothing special was happening between them, even faster than he expected. Just a few moments ago, rage and dislike flooded him, and now his hands, which took the cup from the table, almost did not tremble. A little more warmth, a little more feeling of smooth, fine porcelain under his fingers. There was almost nothing left in the bowl, but Shi Wudu still took another sip, feeling the tart bitterness that was woven into the taste.

Jun Wu drank his tea slowly, so slowly, as if he had changed his mind about doing anything else at all. But Shi Wudu was well aware that he was deliberately dragging his time, wanting to make him think everything and imagine everything, getting lost in uncertainty and assumptions, one more unpleasant than the other. He took slow, small sips – and enjoyed this feeling of his own power that enveloped the room, such that it was more than his capabilities both as an Emperor and as a deity.

He got up from his seat, still slowly, unhurriedly, straightened his slightly crumpled clothes with a careless movement, and then, without wasting any more time in vain, confidently stepped towards Shi Wudu. And dropping down next to him, he bit into his lips with an unrestrained, hard kiss. Shi Wudu barely kept his balance, leaned back, feeling the cool silk under his back – the weightless tapestries on the walls, as if woven from mist, and the silk much warmer, heated by his own palms – pillows that were now lying in disarray near the table.

Shi Wudu froze for a moment, trying to figure out whether he was required to respond to such undisguised lust. And then he just opened his lips, slightly numb from unexpected kisses, letting in, allowing more, making the kiss deeper and more obscene. He ran his tongue over Jun Wu's lips, slightly biting, pressing, walked over his teeth – a strange feeling, as if he was licking his fangs, as if he was kissing not a deity, but a demon, flashed and went out. It was difficult to concentrate on any coherent thought, when he had to cling to the other’s shoulders to keep his balance, and the sensations were so bright and intense that they simply did not allow him to stop and realize what was happening. And it was for the best, because no matter, how much Shi Wudu liked what Jun Wu was doing to him, to completely forget that all this between them was not voluntary, not what he wanted, was not quite possible.

"Being a lover means quite certain things, and it seems that it was still worth responding to all these caresses."

He mentally smirked, catching his breath after Jun Wu pulled away from him – just a little bit, so that it was clear that he would continue, and continue not only with kisses, even if so frank.

And he was not mistaken – Jun Wu, having admired his disheveled, lost his usual composure looks, buried his fingers into Shi Wudu’s hair, pulling him closer. Without causing pain, without causing unpleasant sensations, no, quite the opposite – so that Shi Wudu involuntarily leaned forward, under his touch. Jun Wu touched the thin, silver hairpins that adorned Shi Wudu's hairstyle, stroked them with his fingers, leading them up from the bottom, as if studying the light silver and bluish stones. Pulled out of the hair softly, gently, the way they would dissolve the hairstyle of someone who is really dear, someone who had been with you for a long time, someone who can be loved, and not just desired. He dropped the hairpins on the silk carpet and, no longer paying any attention to them, continued stroking and untangling the strands of Shi Wudu’s hair, passing them between his fingers.

"So that's what all this atmosphere was for – candles, aromatic oils, silk and semi-darkness. Certainly not to discuss my prayers, my junior officials and my temples."

Shi Wudu barely suppressed a grin, quite amused by this thought. He leaned back against the wall, settling himself more comfortably, allowing himself to be used, for his body to be used, to respond when it was needed, and just to submit to touches when it would be superfluous to respond to them. Meanwhile, Jun Wu once again stroked his hair with the unhurried touches, pushed back the strands so as not to get in the way, and just as smoothly and slowly lowered Shi Wudu’s clothes a bit, revealing his thin shoulders and neck. He circled the collarbones with slow movements, drew uneven, broken lines along the other’s shoulders, touched the naked skin with his lips, biting and licking.

All this was not unpleasant or painful, on the contrary, it brought pleasure and a desire to get more. And, perhaps, Shi Wudu would have succumbed to this pleasure, would have allowed himself not to think about anything. But the thought that he did not want it, that it was not like that, not in the right way, did not leave him even under the increasingly inflaming touches. His clothes were now in utter disarray, as was his hair, as were the crumpled pillows around them and the carpets crumpled under his clenched fingers. He didn't even have to do anything, just not resist, not push away and not think too much. He was already aroused when Jun Wu went down and touched his cock, ran his palm over it – almost without touching, only smearing the sticky moisture of the precum even more on the skin, more teasing than doing anything. And the satisfaction that flashed in Jun Wu's eyes was hard to confuse with something else.

"Make yourself comfortable," Shi Wudu didn't even realize at first that Jun Wu was addressing to him. Only when the latter gently, but persistently pushed him back against the wall, forcing him to lean against it with his back, did he guess what was required of him. He spread his legs wider, obeying insistent palms that pressed gently, but confidently, leaving no opportunity to do something else or doubt what was going to happen next. The warmth of Jun Wu's palms on the inside of his thighs burned, up and down his sweaty skin. Shi Wudu's clothes tangled around his legs in a mess, fell from his shoulders, no longer held by anything, but his thoughts… Thoughts were not confused at all, unlike clothes, and remained extremely clear even at such a moment. Shi Wudu was ready for anything, and allowed to do anything with himself. As they agreed.

But what he could not have predicted for sure was that Jun Wu would open his clothes even wider, not hiding anything, would spread their edges to the sides, but would not force him to fall back on silk carpets, would not pull him onto his lap so that it would be more convenient to take him. He didn't do any of that. He just flew with his palms again over Shi Wudu’s skin, forcing his legs to spread a little more, slightly squeezing and stroking the naked skin, and then just lowered his head and touched Shi Wudu's aroused cock with his lips. He ran his tongue along the length, licking the protruding precum, and then circled the instantly moistened lips with his tongue, without showing the slightest awkwardness or strangeness. And, of course, in Jun Wu's darkened gaze when Shi Wudu encountered him, there was not a hint of anything even remotely resembling affection or feelings. Only undisguised desire and lust.

Shi Wudu managed to restrain the first moan by biting his lip. It turned out by itself, he wasn't going to do anything like that, he didn't even think about it – he knew what he was doing, he knew what was expected of him, and he knew that he would have to respond to all the caresses, all the touches and everything Jun Wu decided to do with him. But his body seemed to resist regardless of his will, and despite all the pleasure, despite the fact that he was not hurt or unpleasant, he involuntarily tried to restrain himself. But the next moan – inarticulate, strangled – still escaped from his lips, lost in the semi-darkness of the room, faintly illuminated by the golden candles that streaked the darkness around them with flickering spots.

"No need, don't hold back," Jun Wu asked. And he pulled away, carefully peering into Shi Wudu's face.

It didn't look like a request, more like an order, as behind the soft intonations, it was impossible not to feel steel, relentless and ruthless.

"I won't," Shi Wudu promised, feeling his voice tremble with rage and arousal. He wanted to grimace – how pathetic he must have looked and sounded at such a moment, how unlike his usual self that he did not obey anyone and did not think about anyone. But he only forced himself to smile at Jun Wu, as deceitfully as his gentleness and his words were deceitful.

Again and again, the moans, each time becoming louder and more explicit, flew from Shi Wudu's lips at almost all time as Jun Wu took his cock in his mouth completely, wrapping his lips, squeezing and caressing, allowing him to push into his mouth as deeply as possible. Saliva and precum mixed, dripped from the corner of his mouth, his movements were so confident, so skillful that in another situation Shi Wudu would have appreciated it, for sure.

But now only surprise was splashing in unsteady waves deep inside him. He wasn't expecting this. Not at all. Rudeness – lips torn to blood, wrists clenched to bruises and abrasions, intimacy, which makes you painfully shrink and scream not at all from pleasure. But what Jun Wu was doing to him was not like any of this, or anything at all that could be guessed after his suggestion. And that made it even more restless, even more difficult. Because it turned out that anything could be further between them. And Shi Wudu could not influence it in any way. None at all. For the first time in all these countless years.

 

* * *

 

Only when he found himself in the night-shrouded garden near his Palace, Shi Wudu finally allowed himself to exhale convulsively and run his palm over his face. As if this simple gesture could help erase all those memories. The body would not allow this to be done, no matter how much he himself would like it.

The sweaty skin, where Jun Wu's lips touched him, still burned with fire. The shoulders, that Jun Wu's palms were so willing to pass over, squeezing and stroking, he wanted to press his chilly, slightly trembling hands to them in order to throw off this feeling, to cover it with at least something else. His seed poured right into Jun Wu’s throat – Shi Wudu was sure that he would pull away, move away, not allowing him to come like this, right into himself, but he just swallowed every drop and even ran his fingers over his stained lips with some regret. And his own screams and moans of pleasure still echoed obscenely in his ears, which neither the insinuating splash of water in the lake nor the rustle of grass under the night wind was able to drown out.

“And what am I now supposed to...” he began aloud and suddenly stopped, hearing a surprised:

“Ge, why are you back so late? We've been waiting and waiting for you, and now it won't work, because…”

Qingxuan.

Qingxuan, and not alone, but with this worthless Earth Master.

What a wrong time and moment, so bloody wrong, as it only could be. However, this day showed Shi Wudu that now it is unlikely that anything will happen in his life in the right time and in the way he himself wants, as he is used to, when he was the master of his own fate. He didn't want to pretend so much – to take his hand away from my face, to look coldly and impenetrably. He wanted so much to allow himself these little things and weaknesses, to allow himself confusion and uncertainty, as it was once impossible long ago, when he was still common person who had to take care not only of himself and not so much of himself.

Of course, he did not allow himself to do anything like that.

“Are you all right?”  Qingxuan came closer, a note of alarm sounded in his voice, and Shi Wudu cursed himself inwardly. And so he allowed himself too much, much more.

Earth Master also glared at him with his yellow, unexpectedly predatory eyes. Either the dim lighting in the garden made them so, or Shi Wudu had not paid attention before that the appearance of Earth Master harbored something so predatory and vaguely familiar. He kept looking at Shi Wudu as if he was trying to see something important, to find an answer to some question. Before, Shi Wudu would not have failed to note to himself that this was against all rules of decency, but now it only added to the desire to pull himself together as soon as possible. Before they noticed. Before they figured it out.

"Does it really look so obvious what's wrong with me?", he thought.

More than once he checked whether there were traces on the skin where they could be seen, more than once he pulled up the collar of his clothes, adjusted them on his shoulders, wrapped himself in them more tightly, wanting to close as much as possible. It shouldn't have been a hindrance, it shouldn't have suggested what was wrong with him, and why it wasn't normal at all. And, therefore, it was possible to play pretend that it was them that were in the wrong, that they guessed it wrong and that nothing ever could happened to the esteemed Water Master Wudu – at least not something that could have been considered abnormal or serious.

Still, he hesitated a bit with the answer. Just a little bit, so that they wouldn't feel how his voice trembles subtly, and how he stumbled and swallowed hard before starting to speak.

"Of course, I’m fine, Qingxuan. What a strange question you're asking.”

Chapter 2

From that day on, Shi Wudu could no longer afford to relax for a moment. Every time Jun Wu's junior officials politely and ceremoniously would hand him an invitation scroll, he knew what would follow. Or rather, he did not know, but he guessed, and involuntarily imagined in all obscene details. And this uncertainty, combined with memories and guesses, oppressed much more than any possible rudeness and straightforwardness.

Jun Wu clearly preferred this way of inviting Shi Wudu to his place. Of course, after all, the message on spiritual communication array would be short and insipid, and would not make him feel insecure and helpless again and again. It wouldn't make him shudder inwardly as soon as this cursed scroll was in his hands. It would not make him angry at himself for this, for the inability to restrain emotions and the need to obey.

And now, left alone, Shi Wudu read with hatred the letters written in too familiar handwriting, which did not want to form words in any way, although he had been clutching thin rice paper in his palms for at least half an hour. Of course, this invitation was no different from the others he had received since everything went wrong. Of course, neither the refined elegance of the handwriting, nor the ornate lines, nor the meaning of what was written have changed at all. Of course, he had no choice.

Shi Wudu grimaced, and then, without holding back, threw the scroll onto the floor, desperately wishing that it would just disappear and never exist again. The cursed paper rustled mockingly, barely touching the carpet, unfolding, as if specially for him, the words of the invitation. He didn't need to read it, he already knew, knew too well what they contained. And Shi Wudu couldn't stand it. He snatched out a fan, feeling his fingers tremble – from rage and weakness – and threw up a stream of water, not even trying to direct and control it. And the water, left to itself, fell onto the scroll, flooding it, tearing it into small pieces. It washed away the letters, turning them back into only streaks of ink that meant nothing and did not have the infinite power that words had. It blurred the expensive rice paper, which was giving away a sense of luxury and wealth, leaving pathetic scraps of it. And then it subsided, obeying the precise movement of the fan, leaving behind soaked carpets, stained silk sofas and damp, dimly glistening streaks on light furniture.

Shi Wudu closed the fan, then opened it again, circled the water sign in deep thought, touched the weightless waves inscribed on the other side. As if it was easier not to forget that he is Water Master, that his influence has not gone away and that the water, fluid and changeable, still obeys him. He stood there for a few moments, touching and sorting through the paper links, and then hid his artifact, not wanting to disturb it unnecessarily.

Autumn had just begun, but Shi Wudu has always been cold, ever since he was common person, and hid with Qingxuan in chilly, northern settlements shrouded in coolness and fog. All those lakes that drowsily splashed among the banks overgrown with tall grasses made the air even more icy and humid. And Shi Wudu was freezing then and freezing now, although Heavens, filled with the most exquisite springs and the lushest gardens, couldn’t be compared to those rundown settlements. But the chilly cold has not gone away, and he was the only one who put on warm outer robes at a time when others hadn't even thought about it yet.

 

* * *

 

Another unbearable moment in all these meetings with Jun Wu was waiting. It was tedious and long, something that made him think about things he didn't want to think about at all. And every moment of this waiting dragged on endlessly. Shi Wudu was sure that all this was done intentionally, verified almost to the second. And, of course, Jun Wu enjoyed his tension, his stiffness no less than his body.

So this time, Shi Wudu managed to take out and hide the fan several times – the pendant glided icily over his palms, silver and silk, as if woven from water itself. He pulled off and folded the fur-lined cape - as carefully as he would have never done in his Palace, redoing it several times, trying to smooth out non-existent folds. He straightened the hairpins in his hairstyle, adjusted the slightly raised sleeves of his clothes.

It was only after that that Jun Wu finally appeared.

He smiled at the sight of Shi Wudu as usual – too cloying, too deceitful, - and came closer as usual – predatory, with anticipation. Shi Wudu did not settle down on the sofa in the room, did not sink to the floor, on silk, gold-embroidered carpets. He remained standing, and now Jun Wu's closeness was felt especially sensitively, their clothes were almost touching, their gazes crossed for a moment, they were separated by such an insignificant distance that Shi Wudu could hardly resist the urge to recoil. But he pulled himself together and briefly bowed his head in a respectful greeting.

"Water Master," Jun Wu clearly took some perverse pleasure in calling him by his full title, as he was addressed only by those with whom he was barely acquainted, and not by those with whom he shared a bed.

For some reason, Jun Wu did not hesitate, and this time everything happened faster than Shi Wudu was used to. Jun Wu ran his hand through his hair, burying his fingers, slightly pulling them back, on the verge of pain, but still not stepping over this line. Pressed his whole body, at once crossing out the distance between them that still remained, pulled the strands a little harder, thereby forcing Shi Wudu to close his eyes.

"No, I want you to watch," he ordered, touching his hair again, not giving any opportunity to at least somehow distance himself from this, at least allow himself to think that he had some choice left.

"Should I sit down? Or lie down?" Shi Wudu obeyed, opening his eyes, forcing himself not to make a face at the same time too noticeably. "It will be more convenient this way," he groaned faintly as Jun Wu pulled his strands even harder, even more sensitively.

"No need, it's unnecessary," he replied deceptively gently.

And in the next moment, he pushed Shi Wudu's hair back onto his shoulders, giving himself access to the earlobe. He stroked it with his fingers, stroking and squeezing, ran it from top to bottom – slowly, tracing the contours of the thin skin – as if in deep thought. And then he reached for the earring in his ear, clutched the scarlet threads set with gold in his hand with disgust.

"It doesn't suit you," whispered in his ear, so softly and insinuatingly that Shi Wudu involuntarily shuddered, although he restrained himself as best he could. And how much pleasure this trembling gave Jun Wu - he did not look so full of satisfaction even during their intimacy. Even when he had him among those damned silk pillows.

Jun Wu pulled the earring out of his ear with such force that Shi Wudu thought for a moment that he would tear his lobe, that he would not stand on ceremony with him anymore and would drop this imaginary courtesy. But no, Jun Wu knew his strength and his capabilities well, and the earring slipped away without harming him. Jun Wu looked at it with undisguised disgust and threw it aside as an unnecessary, useless thing, not worth a coin.

And, as if apologizing for his rudeness, he touched the earlobe with his tongue, ran it over it, licking and smearing saliva. So that Shi Wudu definitely felt it, felt the cool humidity and sensitive touches. Now he began to tremble for real, pitifully and palpably, and not at all from anticipation. He tried to calm his body, not to allow himself this weakness, but it turned out badly. And Shi Wudu just gave up, continuing to tremble and not even trying to hide it anymore. Jun Wu continued his occupation, pretending that he did not notice anything, that all this was insignificant. He swiped his tongue, then bit the skin, so hard, as if he really had fangs. But still on the edge, not to the point of blood.

One earring was followed by another, and Shi Wudu could not help but be surprised at the disgust and dislike with which Jun Wu got rid of them. These earrings were given to him long ago as a gift by Pei Ming, and Jun Wu seemed to know about it and did not want Shi Wudu to own something that was not his, something bearing the trace of another person, possessing his presence. Or was it the rumors that went around about them all the time? That at the hot springs they indulged in far more than just the pleasure of warm water and good wine?

"I've never slept with him," Shi Wudu smirked, thinking that this statement could cost him very expensive and sensitive, but still couldn’t keep it silent.

"Do you think I'm interested in that?" Jun Wu replied in the same tone, with the same mockery, the same impenetrability. And it was impossible to discern whether he had never really been interested in it, or whether the truth was hidden behind the indifferent words, so unsightly that it was not worth not only talking about it, but also thinking about it.

Jun Wu stroked his earlobe with his fingers once more – like the finishing touch of an almost painted picture – and stepped back, pulled away, burying his hand in his clothes. Shi Wudu waited tensely, not looking away, to see what would follow, and what Jun Wu might need, that he had brought it with him.

"This is for you," he said casually after a couple of moments, taking out of his clothes a small, elegant box decorated with the finest carvings, gold and his own symbols, symbols of the Heavenly Emperor. And he opened it without waiting for Shi Wudu to come closer.

Earrings. Bright gold and weightless silk threads, snow-white, like Jun Wu's festive clothes, like much of what belonged to him. Earrings in his colors, with his symbols glinting coldly on gold. They must have cost a fortune, no less. An exquisite work, expertly selected gold and silk, they seemed to embody wealth and sophistication at the same time. But Shi Wudu was well versed in wealth, and it was not difficult for him to understand the value of this or that thing. Such gifts were never made just like that. Such gifts always had a different, much deeper meaning than the desire to please and make pleasant. Such gifts were never gifts, because it was often necessary to give immeasurably more than to receive.

And now not a word was uttered, but Shi Wudu guessed without any words that now he has the right to wear only these earrings, and no others. Neither his own – light silver with bluish and turquoise, nor those given by someone else – scarlet and gold that fell pathetic and unnecessary among the carpets, nor gold with bright green, spring and sunny, which, laughing and chatting incessantly, Qingxuan once gave him.

And these symbols of the Emperor are on them. Shi Wudu mentally grimaced, realizing that now everyone, absolutely everyone, would know that there was something between him and Jun Wu that allowed him to make such gifts and not hide them from anyone. Something that will certainly cause an incalculable number of rumors and gossip that will acquire fictional details that have nothing to do with reality.

"Thank you," Shi Wudu forced himself to say, not daring to touch the gift, unsure whether Jun Wu wanted him to put on these earrings himself, or would prefer to repeat what he had already done quite recently, touching and caressing him again in any way, not allowing him to close his eyes, not allowing him to do anything on his own.

"It looks like you've learned quite well what I want from you and what I don't," Jun Wu gave him another sugary smile, and then brought the earring that glittered brightly in the warm candlelight to his ear. "So obedient. I like it," and he inserted the earring into his ear – surprisingly gently, carefully, no longer trying to tear the sensitive skin, staining it with scarlet streaks. It was as if two different people were acting. As if he himself could not decide what he wanted more from Shi Wudu – his submission or his reciprocity. As if he himself did not know which of these was more valuable. "Done," he said, having dealt with both earrings. And then he began to kiss his lobes, with such unexpected tenderness and desire that Shi Wudu this time wanted to moan not from pain, but from pleasure.

 

* * *

 

As Shi Wudu had expected, the rumors and conversations were not long in coming. Envious whispers behind his back - and mocking hints in other people's words, assumptions, one more improbable than the other – and undisguised hostility with fictional details. The gold in his earrings, given by Jun Wu, glittered defiantly, highlighting the symbols of the Emperor, snow-white silk flowed down onto his shoulders, deceptively gently touching his clothes. It was hard not to notice, not to pay attention. It was hard not to guess from this that such gifts are not made just like that. It wasn't so difficult to draw conclusions from this and come up with something of your own, different, but certainly vile.

"Yes, they cost so much, it's like getting a whole box of gold bars!"

"Well, they certainly weren't given for nothing. It seems that he is not such a Tyrant in bed pleasures."

"I heard the Emperor is going to give him a new Palace as well."

"Really?"

"You'll see for yourself later."

But, of course, all this was happening only behind his back, petty and cowardly. As always. Because his power, his influence, his wealth have not gone away, and no one would dare to speak out or mock openly. On the contrary, at the sight of him, all this rabble, calling themselves deities, as before, began to flatter and hypocritical, not stingy with false praise. And this made it somehow especially disgusting. It's like he stumbled into the sticky, wet mud of a stagnant lake and couldn't get rid of its fragments.

But even worse than all this obscene gossip was that Qingxuan seemed to have decided that Shi Wudu had finally met someone worthy, someone to be together, and now he could hardly hide his sincere joy. He didn't ask anything, didn't say anything, didn't try to share his thoughts full of curiosity and delight. But the way he smiled happily every time Shi Wudu returned to the Palace after midnight, the way he looked at those damned earrings with an admiring look, how he deliberately took Earth Master to his room, not wanting to interfere with anyone's presence… All this spoke about his thoughts brighter than any words and clearer than any hints.

Shi Wudu had already tried several times to tell him that everything was completely different from what he thought, that there was absolutely nothing to be happy about, and that he should stay as far away from Jun Wu and from all this as possible – and each time he stopped, feeling how the unspoken words were settling somewhere deep inside, bitter and meaningless. It's better to let it be so, let him rejoice and think that Shi Wudu is not alone now, and that he has someone with whom to share, if not life, then at least bed. Let it be. It was safer that way. For Qingxuan himself. Because if he found out the truth, he definitely wouldn't want to stay away, and he would have made so many mistakes trying to fix it. What there was no doubt about, was that Jun Wu would not have left anything like this just like that, and this scared Shi Wudu much more than what Jun Wu was doing to his body and to himself.

But Pei Ming and Ling Wen, on the contrary, looked at him now with bewilderment and wariness, as always, if what was happening seemed strange to them and unusual to him. Well, of course, who else but them knew him for so many years that they noticed the smallest changes in his mood, the smallest things that bothered him, the smallest moments when he was upset or angry.

And Shi Wudu was not at all surprised when two messages arrived almost simultaneously on the personal Spiritual communication array.

"If you need something, contact us at any time."

Restrained and cautious from Ling Wen.

"Shui-shixiong, what's going on? You could have shared it with us, otherwise even others talk about it more than you do."

Deliberately nonchalant from Pei Ming.

But Shi Wudu knew both of them too well to believe this carelessness, behind which there was clearly concern, and something else, difficult to explain, unfamiliar, something completely uncharacteristic of Pei Ming.

"We'll meet – then I'll tell you."

Shi Wudu answered briefly for both of them at once and involuntarily bit his lip. Tell the truth? Impossible, it would only endanger them both unnecessarily and solve nothing for himself. Should he tell them how he is satisfied with everything, and what kind of a skilled lover Jun Wu is? Just at the thought of it, he wanted to grimace and cover himself with his fan, hiding his disgust behind thin links of rice paper. 

Still undecided, Shi Wudu wrapped himself more tightly in his fur-lined cape and hurried to the steps leading down into the world of common people. Recently, for some reason, he preferred to carry out those prayers himself, which turned out to be as far away from Heaven as possible, from Jun Wu and from everything that connected them, and that he wanted to forget at least this much, at least for a while.

 

* * *

 

Another evening with Shi Qingxuan in his Palace did not portend anything unusual or interesting – endless conversations, tea and sweets, and junior officials scurrying everywhere. And Shi Qingxuan. A lot of Shi Qingxuan. He Xuan was already thinking of inventing some relatively decent excuse and leaving, when a sugary-joyful "ge" pulled him out of his thoughts and Shi Qingxuan jumped up to meet his brother.

But this was already becoming much more tempting in order to stay here longer, among the defiant luxury that he was so tired of, and no less boring conversations. He tried to make his Nether Water Manor on Black Water island, look like this Palace, damn it. Like a reflection in muddy water, distorted and unsteady, his Manor was and at the same time was not like Palace of Wind and Water. He would not be able to repeat everything exactly, even with the opportunities that now opened up to him as the Supreme. But still, at least such a similarity, even if not so magnificent, even if not among transparent ponds and rivers, but on the shore of a musty, overgrown with mud lake. As well as what he became, a demon, not alive, so unlike Water Master in his divine radiance, refined and unattainable, in his elegant clothes and jewelry.

He Xuan knew that Shi Wudu had done something to him, to his family, to his life. He remembered in annoying detail every moment of how Shi Wudu for some reason deigned to go down that day to Fu Gu, how he stood silently, looking at him intently. Past him. Through him. It was as if he had never been human – alive, real. As if he didn't matter at all. He knew, but this knowledge brought nothing, remaining an empty flower that falls without yielding fruit.

He watched Shi Wudu every moment, not losing sight of a single detail, nothing that could suggest what happened back then, many years ago. He knew Shi Wudu as well as he did not seem to know anyone in his life, as they do not even know their closest friends, even wives and mistresses. How he tossed his head when he was about to say something caustic and mocking, how he frowned and closed his fan when he didn't like something, how his gaze warmed almost imperceptibly when he was talking to Shi Qingxuan. He did not try to get together with Shi Qingxuan intentionally, but try to get rid of him, and it was easier to use this sudden, difficult to explain sympathy for his own purposes than to push away someone who unknowingly gave him so many opportunities.

After all, Shi Wudu Palace was now open to him at any time of the day or night, just as he wanted.

And it was possible not to pay attention to bothersome junior officials, nor to the flow of meaningless words.

And focus only on what was really important.

And now, as soon as Shi Qingxuan rose to meet him, He Xuan instantly gathered himself, furtively looking at Shi Wudu dressed in light blue clothes in the semi-darkness of the room. However, clothes were not the main thing at that moment. Earrings, defiantly swaying, falling on his shoulders like a snow-white waterfall, shrouded in gold. A gift from Heavenly Emperor. Everyone knew about it. Everyone was talking about it. And He Xuan listened and absorbed all these words – obscene and stupid, mocking and envious. But all this was just speculation, and something told He Xuan that the truth was not as simple as one might think. Otherwise, why wouldn't Shi Wudu say a word about it to his brother, who was probably curious, and whom he should have trusted. After all, there was nothing wrong with sharing something good. If it was good, of course.

"Beautiful earrings," so Shi Qingxuan couldn't resist after all. They didn't touch on this topic, but it was hard not to notice how his green eyes shone with joy every time he looked at these earrings. How he clearly wanted to ask Shi Wudu, find out the details, get the opportunity to talk openly about it.

As soon as he heard this, Shi Wudu froze in place, his palms convulsively pulled the warm cape tighter on his shoulders, he buried his fingers so hard in the light fur trim that several torn hairs stuck to the pale skin. His eyes darkened, and there was such gloom and dislike in them that you had to be Shi Qingxuan not to notice it.

He Xuan hurriedly pretended that neither the compliment nor the answer to it interested him, turned away and began to disconnect the twisted strands of the pendant on his belt with an indifferent look. The fingers slid along the golden plexus, moving slowly and as if reluctantly. But this simple activity each time helped him focus on his thoughts and conclusions much better than solitude or food.

One thread through his fingers – why did the most ordinary words, designed to please, make Shi Wudu frown as if something very unpleasant and contradictory had been said to his face? Something that made him freeze in place, wrapped in his clothes that were too warm for the beginning of autumn?

Another thread through his fingers – why accept, and even constantly carry gifts if you don't want them? If they do not make you feel important and dear to someone, but cause awkwardness and a desire to pull them off, throw them as far away as possible - it was difficult not to notice Shi Wudu's unconscious movement. A sharp touch of snow-white silk and a withdrawn hand. A single moment, but it was enough for He Xuan. As always, the most insignificant trifle, barely perceptible gestures and unspoken words were enough to guess, to know what others did not even think about, to have knowledge that is not open to everyone.

One more thread through his fingers – and no matter how improbable it may seem, but it turned out that the one who presented Shi Wudu with such a generous gift was not that he did not need, but was indifferent to him. If not to say disgusting.

To allow yourself to be touched, to allow yourself to be taken, to allow someone to be with you who causes so much disgust? This could be assumed about anyone, but not about Shi Wudu. And now it already felt inexplicable and wrong. And why would someone who possessed everything that could be desired, obey and tolerate someone who, perhaps, surpassed him in his power, but certainly not in wealth and influence. Shi Wudu was impossible to force. He never obeyed anyone. And never belonged to anyone. If only… Unless you know something about him that would force him to accept any conditions. Agree to any humiliation. And endure anything.

He Xuan stopped, the threads of the pendant rustled softly in anticipation, crumpling under his fingers, and then another recent memory surfaced in his thoughts. The night in the garden near the Palace, cool and shaky, Shi Qingxuan grabbing and laughing, the reflections of colorful lanterns in the thick grass. And Shi Wudu. The same gloomy, focused, looking so unusually confused that even Shi Qingxuan was surprised. And his restrained, as usual impenetrable answer, enveloped He Xuan with cold, as if he was doused by a wave of the winter sea, which obeyed Shi Wudu so willingly, and so willingly overwhelmed the silvery coast with frost. And this movement, these thin fingers darting to the collar of his clothes, as if he wanted to wrap himself even tighter, hiding what needed to be hidden.

“Thank you,” it was necessary to acknowledge and give a hidden admiration to the way Shi Wudu knew how to restrain himself, knew how to be collected in any situation and knew how not to show anyone what he did not want to show. Gratitude, not discarded earrings. A short nod of the head, not a sharp wave of the fan, which would allow him to throw away the hated thing.

But not a word more, nothing. It didn't cost Shi Wudu anything to feign indifference. But it seems that he would not pretend insincere joy for anyone.

He Xuan gripped the untangled and smoothed threads of the pendant in his fingers, squeezed them tightly. And then he let go at once, threw it back, pleased with what was clarified and unexplained at the same time.

Chapter 3

The path to Pei Ming's Palace was not the closest. The road, initially straight and even, gradually became narrower and more tortuous, leading among thick, abundantly growing grasses strewn with large, bright flowers. The road dived under tall bushes, bizarrely bending branches directly above it, turned to hills that stretched to heavenly rivers and lakes. And only then led to the richly decorated gold and scarlet Palace. Shi Wudu hesitated for a few moments, deciding whether to take a ride on his chariot as usual, giving off the feeling of luxury and splendor – he never skimped on such details. And everyone, even the smallest and most useless deities, knew who he was and how high position he occupied. Or to walk, without attracting excessive attention and without provoking a whisper that rolls after, like the restless waves of the sea, a whisper filled with anger and hostility.

It didn't matter. It shouldn't have mattered. And yet, standing in the middle of his room in indecision, absentmindedly listening to the silver bells tinkling on the windows, the discordant noise of his junior officials’ voices coming from afar, and discussing matters so ordinary, so insignificant, Shi Wudu could not decide what he wanted more. Feigned grandeur or honest solitude. He reached for a bell, about to call his junior officials and order them to harness the chariot and accompany him to the Palace of General Ming Guang – and bit his lip, saying nothing. He retreated a few steps, dissatisfied with himself, and then pulled the warm cape he had prepared from the bed, straightened the slightly stray fur trim and left the room. Alone.

And if at least someone found out that the Water Tyrant, known for his unbearable character and imperiousness, preferred not even Distance shortening array, but an ordinary road without all these accompanying and annoying ceremonies, they simply would not believe it. Nor would they have believed that for Shi Wudu there was not much difference between a luxurious chariot and a walk alone. That all this is external, superficial, it was for the others, those who did not perceive, did not understand, did not take opinion into consideration without it. And after the poverty in which he happened to live as common person, Shi Wudu appreciated and at the same time did not appreciate his current capabilities. He appreciated them – because they opened any doors and allowed him to get what he wanted, he did not appreciate them – because he knew how shaky and fragile wealth is, and what those who are used to evaluating others only by the number of gold bars belonging to them are worth.

But in such a secluded road, there was another important meaning for him - he needed to think about and decide exactly how to answer questions about Jun Wu. And there was no doubt that these questions would be. Shi Wudu remembered too well the puzzled looks of Pei Ming and Ling Wen, he understood too well that they knew him, they had known him for a long time and from those sides that remained hidden from the rest. Even from Qingxuan. The water that was shaky and ghostly, and harbored a lot of hard stones, but also white river sand, those sides of it that few were allowed to know. Almost no one. But no matter how he tried to imagine whether his words were worth being indifferent and detached, or on the contrary, filled with lust, all this felt stupid and wrong. So deceitful that none of them will believe it, and will only be more convinced that something strange and wrong was happening between him and Heavenly Emperor.

The road ended somehow unexpectedly, as if it had suddenly melted, like fog under the rays of the morning sun. Either Shi Wudu thought too much, and did not come up with anything worthwhile, or the path that seemed to him impossibly long, in fact, was not. Pei Ming's domain greeted him with a ringing girlish laugh, involuntarily forcing him to let out a snort – well, of course, what else could Pei Ming be doing, if he was not on a mission or did not train in his hall filled with weapons and armor.

To Shi Wudu's considerable surprise, there were two girls – it was something new, before Pei Ming was content with a more modest amount of entertainment. Ordinary people, not goddesses or demonesses. Over the years of communication with Pei Ming, Shi Wudu had seen everything – and it was difficult to impress him. Neither the shoulder torn by the demoness's fangs in a fit of passion, nor the bruises and bites on the light skin, nor the deep scratches, as if left by a weapon, caused him nothing more than a mockingly raised eyebrow and a question that had become habitual:

“Can I help you?”

Pei Ming mostly waved him off, but agreed a couple of times, and then ostentatiously winced and grimaced while Shi Wudu smeared potions smelling of bitter herbs and stagnant water on all these obscene traces. Pei Ming didn't mind, but from time to time, running his palms over his body, Shi Wudu caught glances filled with something dark, inexplicable. It always seemed to him that Pei Ming somehow managed to remember his bedtime pleasures in these moments, but Shi Wudu did not understand why he would do this, and he certainly would not ask such a thing. It was enough that he already knew much more about all these Pei Ming entertainments than he wanted, and than the rules of decency allowed.

And now these two. The girls, continuing to laugh and adjust the slightly withered and faded flowers in their hair, confidently headed for an inconspicuous door decorated on the sides with scarlet lanterns with golden tassels. Pei Ming, happy and sleepy, prudently opened this door for them, letting them go ahead, and saying something that made them laugh a little louder and more embarrassed. Shi Wudu did not understand what exactly, but surely some stupid, empty compliments. The door was not just a door, but Distance shortening array leading to the world of common people, and in the next moment the girls stepped forward, and Pei Ming stayed. He waved his hand in greeting at the sight of Shi Wudu and hurried to meet him, looking indecently pleased.

“And you had enough for both?” Shi Wudu couldn't resist raising an eyebrow mockingly.

"I would have had enough for more," Pei Ming replied in the same tone, coming closer, almost too close. And then he suddenly reached out and touched Shi Wudu's hair, passed a strand between his fingers, pulled it a little. The way Jun Wu did just recently, caressing and hurting at the same time, making him shudder with disgust, then with pleasure.

“What are you doing?” it turned out almost in a whisper, barely audible, Shi Wudu, by an effort of will, nevertheless forced himself not to pull away from this touch too openly, forced himself to ask a question and seem calm, and not to throw away Pei Ming palm that touched him so familiar, in a way he would never want to know.

“How did you get here?” Pei Ming laughed simply and sincerely, as if he either did not notice how tensely Shi Wudu froze, or thought it best to pretend that he did not notice. However, he was never very tactful, so Shi Wudu would rather put it first. “There,” he showed him a withered flower tangled in his hair, which was once snow-white, and now, shrouded in the first cold of the beginning of autumn, faded into gray and withered. "And where is your chariot?" Pei Ming looked around, and then shifted his incredulous gaze to Shi Wudu.

"I got here without it," Shi Wudu replied coldly, hiding his awkwardness behind this tone. He didn't expect Pei Ming to pay attention to this. He rarely attached importance to anything at all, except for pretty girls and the opportunity to get to know them better. Although he would have done everything in his power for the two of them, too. And it turns out that he also noticed such minor details when they touched the two of them. Not at the right time. Not at the right time at all.

“Well, then why be surprised that you gathered in your hairstyle... everything,” Pei Ming flippantly threw the withered flower aside, and, without further delay, invitingly pulled Shi Wudu towards the Palace.

 

* * *

 

They reached for the temples almost simultaneously, knowing in advance who could contact them both at once, and even through personal Spiritual communication array. Shi Wudu somehow wasn't even surprised to hear Ling Wen's habitually tired voice that informed them without any pleasure that she would have to stay for another couple of hours to sort things out. Her lateness due to the incredible amount of dusty scrolls, papers and cases requiring her knowledge became so common, that Shi Wudu spent much more time at Pei Ming's than he had expected. And not only did he know his Palace almost better than his own, but he also managed to help Pei Ming with paperwork from time to time. As Martial God, he may have been good, but in everything that concerned accuracy and the need to follow clearly established rules, he was completely useless. And he never understood why he had to fill out a long and tedious scroll about the completed task, if he had already slain a dangerous demon, or figured out the clashes between the warring settlements.

"Noble Jie is delayed again," Pei Ming shook his head, either annoyed by this, or quite ready to do something else during the upcoming wait. "Do you want to practice with swords for now, Shui–shixiong?" he suddenly suggested, and Shi Wudu did not immediately find what to answer. Of course, he was not Martial God, he did not wield such weapons as good as other martial deities did. But when he was still common person, he trained with a sword too, and, in general, he was quite good at it. Especially not bad for Water Master, who had no direct relation to the art of war, and did not possess such skills.

The swords that Pei Ming offered to choose reflected the bright rays of the midday, autumn sun with their steel, and seemed to be created from the rarest, light gold, which was so valued among deities. Shi Wudu chose the blade at random without thinking. He knew that Pei Ming also dislikes certain swords, and every time he chooses a new one, a different one, so as not to feel any more attachment to the thing. Shi Wudu knew this story about the general and his broken sword and knew it well, down to minor details. And, although Pei Ming never said out loud what was the reason for his rejection of a single sword, it was already easy to guess. His lilac eyes became too serious when he talked about it, laughing habitually, his voice sounded too joyless, albeit filled with ostentatious carelessness. For all of them, their artifacts, their spiritual weapons, were special, but that was why Pei Ming avoided having something that could be lost and never gotten back.

Shi Wudu tried on the hilt of the sword, weighed it in his hand, assessing how comfortable and familiar it would be to fight with such a weapon. This blade was not like the ones he was used to handling as common person. Thin and elegant, it nevertheless felt reliable and swift in the palm of his hand, such that it does not pull extra weight, but serves as an excellent weapon. Those swords that were available to him before did not possess half the simplicity and grace that the sword he had chosen possessed. Heavy and unwieldy, they were suitable only for training, but not for a serious battle. On the other hand, now, with any sword, at least a little more convenient, Shi Wudu managed without unnecessary awkwardness. And, perhaps, the fact that he had to deal with such swords had its own meaning and significance.

"Here or in the garden?" Shi Wudu clarified, running his finger along the sharpened edge, touching the steel weightlessly, barely. They tried to train both ways, and, perhaps, each of the options was good in its own way. Walls that did not allow retreating – and space that allowed attacking.

“In the garden,” Pei Ming offered without hesitation. “I didn't mess around with this training ground for nothing, where else would you find such a thing, if not near Palace of Martial God,” he said, not without pride. And, in general, there was something to be proud of – not that Shi Wudu had crossed swords with someone on many training grounds, but this one was made the way it should be, with all possible convenience. And it immediately became clear that the one who created it not only understood battles and weapons, but also loved what he was doing and what his life was filled with.

 

* * *

 

Steel rang against steel when their swords clashed for the first time in training, walked one over the other, crossed as soon as they started.

"So fast?" Shi Wudu frowned inwardly, puzzled – usually Pei Ming gave him time and opportunity to get used to, feel the hilt of the blade in his hand and adjust to the movements. But no, this time he didn’t only deny such an opportunity, but all of his movements, everything he did, was filled with such uncharacteristic rigidity, so rarely turned towards Shi Wudu with impetuosity.

A lunge, and another, their swords crossed again, striking bright sparks, and Shi Wudu was forced to take a step back. A trifle, but for some reason this trifle touched him, forcing him to reflect blows incomparably fiercer than usual. And yet at some point Pei Ming was almost close to him, so close that Shi Wudu could clearly distinguish the drops of sweat that appeared on his face, felt his proximity and the heat from the battle.

“How did you manage to woo the Emperor himself?” Pei Ming's voice sounded mocking, his words were laced with frivolity, and his tone was joking as usual. But the blade of his sword trembled slightly on Shi Wudu's sword, his fingers gripped the hilt so tightly that veins showed under the light skin, and his whole body was so tense, as if much, if not everything depended on Shi Wudu's answer. And everything around them was filled with inexplicable anxiety. The knowledge that lies deep, and is not intended for others.

There was more behind all this than a frivolous question asked out of simple curiosity. No, Shi Wudu heard something completely different, much deeper – worry for him and something else, difficult to grasp, that he had never noticed before. Although they had known each other for so many years, and for so many years they had talked about anything, without hiding or holding back.

Their duel took place not only with swords, but also with words. Still, the swords were of paramount importance, and Shi Wudu managed to parry Pei Ming's next lunge. Steel clashed with steel again, Shi Wudu felt how much strength and confidence there was in Pei Ming movements, how huge, impossibly huge experience of battles won and lost lay behind it. An experience that was hard for him to even imagine. With a sharp movement, he threw Pei Ming's sword aside from his own – his wrist responded with pain, an uninvited tremor shot through his entire arm, but still he managed to hold his blade. The handle, which became uncomfortable at once, left traces on the skin – not to bruises and abrasions, no, but noticeable and darkening on pale skin. Shi Wudu lowered the sleeves of his clothes, hiding these traces, and then said evenly:

“To achieve such an arrangement, as you put it, by wooing the Emperor himself, was somewhat easier than it seemed.”

He couldn't say directly. He could not even hint more clearly, so that the words would not remain empty and unnecessary, but gained clarity and meaning, told the truth, and not that forced half-lie. Could not. No matter how much he thought, all the opportunities left to him by Jun Wu were so pitiful and insignificant that he would not take the risk. What for? Even if Pei Ming and Ling Wen found out the truth, what would they be able to do. None of them would go against the will of Heavenly Emperor, and if they did, nothing good would certainly follow. Shi Wudu could be anything, but calculation in him was always connected with affection. And in this case, both calculation and affection suggested that he did not need to tell these two anything. No matter how much he wanted to.

            And yet he could not remain completely silent. At least a hint, so weightless, shrouded in his fears and his caution. A hint that Pei Ming is right, countless times right. And everything is not so simple between him and Jun Wu. Not as easy as Qingxuan was happy about. How wrong those who secretly wished to be in his place spread rumors behind his back were. And how contemptuously those who were sure that Water Tyrant had found a simple and convenient way to increase his wealth, his influence and his capabilities.

            The sword in his hand was trembling quite clearly, quite palpably, when Pei Ming attacked him again. And again he forced Shi Wudu to retreat a couple of steps, again forced him to make a barely noticeable grimace when the handle bit into the skin, twisted the already damaged wrist. He wanted to groan openly, he wanted to throw aside the sword that caused so much pain, but instead Shi Wudu only tightened his grip on the blade in his hands and leveled the blade, trying to guess by Pei Ming movements what kind of lunge he would attack him next time.

“And why do you need all this?” Pei Ming's voice was still mocking, but now there was a gloomy, such an unusual expression in his lilac eyes. He used to laugh when they dipped into the warm waters of the springs, and this smile was reflected in his gaze, too, and his gaze warmed. Or he would say uncomplicated compliments to girls – and then mischievous sparkles would flash in his eyes. Or he would focus on fighting another demon – and then his gaze would reflect seriousness and determination. But never in all these years had Shi Wudu noticed such darkness in Pei Ming's gaze.

“Why not?” Shi Wudu intercepted the sword more conveniently, just to stall for time. Just to somehow avoid this conversation. In order not to answer something that was so difficult for him to answer that he would have preferred to pass the Third Calamity, that he would have preferred anything at all instead.

He shrugged indifferently, showing with his whole appearance how insignificant to him what was happening between him and Jun Wu, how ordinary it was, how not worthy of the slightest attention. He wasn't sure if Pei Ming believed him. He wasn't sure if Jun Wu would find out about this conversation. He wasn't sure he was doing the right thing. But he was sure of one thing – he didn't want to involve anyone in this.

His injured wrist gave off a hot pain, his fingers were numb and did not obey well, and he almost dropped the sword when he turned it for the intended reception. Previously, he would have been outraged by Pei Ming's intemperance for a long time, would have shown his wrist and declared half-jokingly that now Pei Ming owed him. But now some inexplicable stubbornness came over him, and he continued this duel, continued to hold the sword that had become so cumbersome in his tired palms, not wanting to give in or submit to someone else's superiority.

Shi Wudu tried to attack, the movements that had long been forgotten, which had become unnecessary, surfaced in his memory, telling his body how best to turn around for a blow, and how it was more convenient to swing the sword. The unfolded blade caught the bright rays of the sun for a moment, scattered melting, golden highlights, forcing Pei Ming to hesitate. But only for a moment, because in the next, with a well-honed movement, he repelled Shi Wudu's blade aimed at him and clamped it so that Shi Wudu could neither attack nor defend, being completely at the mercy of Pei Ming.

Their faces were too close again, their bodies were almost touching, and Shi Wudu was puzzled to think that never in their duels, never in their sword training, Pei Ming did not strive to be stronger, did not strive to win at all costs. Their training was more like entertainment, simple and unpretentious, when they relaxed and exchanged blows, or Pei Ming showed some simple techniques that could be useful to Shi Wudu. Both knew that Shi Wudu did not use a sword, that his weapons were cold waves and an elegant fan made of rice paper, but as Pei Ming declared, laughing, you never know what will happen. And who would have thought that it would come in handy in a battle with Pei Ming himself. Yes, a fake battle – fake? – but so unlike their usual duels.

“This is not like you at all,” Pei Ming did not allow him to make a single movement, did not allow him to pull away or turn around for a new attack. Instead, he slowly raised his blade and touched it to the snow-white silk threads of the earring falling on Shi Wudu's shoulders. He held it slowly, as if in deep thought, from top to bottom, making the gold tinkle a little, and the silk crumple under the touch of steel. "To obey someone to such a degree," Pei Ming continued his thought. And after these words, Shi Wudu was truly afraid for the first time that Pei Ming might actually guess something. That he didn't need hints at all to disbelieve a single word said by others about him and Jun Wu. Pei Ming, who usually did not notice much more obvious things. And who has never been interested in a relationship more complicated than the clear water of hot springs, rice wine, casual conversation about all sorts of trifles and a shared bed. And then everything is the same, but again, with someone who has not had time to get bored yet, and who is frivolous enough not to wait and not to want more. Shi Wudu, at times, succumbing to Pei Ming's persuasions, stayed with him and his next passion a little longer than most people would consider decent, and knew all these little things, knew Pei Ming's preferences and how careless he was in everything related to relationships. And how could he, with such an approach, even admit the idea that Shi Wudu did not just indulge in bed pleasures, choosing far from the worst option for these pleasures. And this unexpected insight was so inappropriate that Shi Wudu wanted to swear properly. And out loud, not mentally.

Shi Wudu had no doubt that Jun Wu's anger would be terrible if anyone tried to interfere. Even if only with a careless word, even with an inappropriate phrase. And with Pei Ming, it would have become much more weighty to intervene if he had found out.

"What makes you think I'm obeying him?" and it even seemed to work out well, it sounded like it was necessary, as it should have sounded, so as not to cause even more doubts and guesses. Correct guesses. That was the worst of it. But the intonation did not disappoint, and it turned out cold and restrained. Worthy of  Water Tyrant. Worthy of someone who knows what he is doing, and certainly does not intend to obey anyone.

Shi Wudu did not remember if he had ever lied to those with whom he was close, lied to Pei Ming before. It seemed that there was no reason, that there was no need. He never liked it if someone interfered in his affairs, but for the two of them, he went to all sorts of exceptions, and someone else would not dare to interfere. And now he was trying to protect Pei Ming from serious trouble, and he didn't understand why he needed it. Why would he put so much effort into avoiding something that didn't even concern him directly. Shi Wudu hmphed – not out loud, and not to himself, barely audible – amused by the thought that came to mind. It seemed that no matter how much he kept aloof, no matter how he assured himself that only Qingxuan mattered, no matter how eager he was to do what was beneficial only to him, he still did not perceive these two as strangers. And over all these years, has he become attached? Used to it? Or did he just not want to lose influential allies? He didn't have an answer to that question. And he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

And Shi Wudu confidently pushed Pei Ming's sword away from his earring – the snow-white silk fell on his shoulders again, feeling heavier than the steel that he clutched in his hands. But Pei Ming did not allow him to do anything else – a few swift lunges, a few well-adjusted movements that no longer concealed that he was Martial God, and one of the strongest. That he could be carefree and frivolous as much as he wanted, but his essence, the essence of a warrior, did not go away from this.

Shi Wudu's sword flew off to the side with a melodious ringing – such that you would not expect from a weapon. And he himself, unable to keep his balance after the too tangible blow of Pei Ming's blade, fell to the ground, right into the dew-wet grass growing thickly along the edge of the training ground. The soft stems flattened, sprayed him with transparent drops, his clothes instantly got wet, stuck to his body, and the chilly cold habitually enveloped him almost immediately.

And the next moment, Pei Ming approached so quickly that Shi Wudu did not even have time to understand what was happening. He wanted to pull away, but Pei Ming did not allow him to do that - he lowered himself, hanging over him, not letting him get up or move away. His dark hair, gathered in a high ponytail, almost fell on Shi Wudu's face, did not touch, no, but he almost felt their ticklish touch and their rigidity.

"I've never known you so angry," the thought that did not allow Shi Wudu to think about anything else, and wanted to put it into words, but he kept silent, still kept silent.

Pei Ming stared at his face for a long time, endlessly. Without uttering a word, without moving away, frowning and biting his chapped lips. Shi Wudu saw all these small cracks on them, saw the rage and anxiety in lilac eyes, felt the warmth of his body, heated by the duel, even through the clothes, even with the insignificant distance that still remained between them. And he was also silent. Without looking away and without trying to get up.

"Because you don't seem happy, Shui-shixiong. That's why I decided it," Pei Ming said after a long silence.

So what was he supposed to say to that? What can he say if he has never even thought about such an opportunity for himself. He didn't even imagine anything like this.

The words fell slowly, reluctantly, a little cold and a little mocking, when he did answer.

“Do I ever look happy at all?”

Chapter 4

Perhaps not once in all the countless years of their acquaintance, Shi Wudu was so grateful to Ling Wen for the timely appearance. She found them there – Shi Wudu in the dew-strewn grass, with soaked clothes and strands of hair that had escaped from his always impeccable hairstyle. And Pei Ming, looming over him, unusually serious, with a bitten lip and a tightly clenched sword in his hands. The sight, frankly speaking, was very unexpected, and certainly not what Ling Wen hoped to find when she came to one of the most ordinary meetings with them. Shi Wudu's sword remained lying on the training ground, forgotten by both of them, and its thin blade seemed to fade, although it was just the clouds that covered the sun, hiding behind them a scattering of golden sparks that reflected on the surface.

“What's going on here?” Ling Wen frowned slightly, looking at them both intently. Someone else wouldn't even pay attention - well, big deal, the usual sword training. It didn't matter that one of them was the strongest Martial God, inferior in his art only to the Heavenly Emperor, and the other was not so good with weapons. After all, friends could have fun as they pleased, and Ling Wen knew firsthand about such subtleties of their relationship. Words could deceive her, but certainly not the looks – the gloomy of Pei Ming, the confused of Shi Wudu, not the movements – too stiff, tense, not the distance that almost did not remain between them – none of them would have allowed themselves to do this without a good reason.

"You need to train more," - Pei Ming said with a nonchalant grin as if nothing had happened, simultaneously managing to greet Ling Wen with a nod of his head. How quickly he managed to return to his usual self, one who has no problems, no worries, and everything that happens brings only pleasure. Shi Wudu chuckled inwardly, surprised at how easy this ostentatious carelessness was given to Pei Ming. A moment ago, he was frowning and biting his lips, and it seemed that he was ready to ask directly what Shi Wudu did not want to answer at all, and now he was smiling again, so sincerely that no one would notice the trick. "You're not bad when you defend, but when you attack, you make several mistakes at once," Pei Ming stood up and held out his palm to him, offering help at the same time and taking a promise – not a word to Ling Wen.

Shi Wudu nodded slightly in agreement to this, and then slowly took the outstretched palm into his fingers, slightly squeezed them, feeling a strange contrast – the warmth of Pei Ming's hand and the cold of his own. Their auras mingled for a moment – battle-heated steel and cold, unsteady waves. And then Shi Wudu got up and began brushing his clothes from the damp, slightly withered blades of grass and grayish, sun-warmed dust. Tucked the stray strands behind his ears and said coldly, fulfilling the promise given to Pei Ming:

"You know I don't spend too much time practicing with weapons in general and swords in particular," Shi Wudu shrugged and began to untangle a small leaf that had come from nowhere, caught on a blue, silk pendant on his belt. A spicy, bitter aroma enveloped him as soon as the leaf was in the palm of his hand, and Shi Wudu squeezed it with his fingers. The smell seemed vaguely familiar and inexplicably pleasant, as if it reminded of something long forgotten, but definitely good. “But we can continue to train together. Then maybe I'll learn something new. Maybe," Shi Wudu allowed himself to doubt, and it sounded a little mocking, but Pei Ming did not think to be offended. On the contrary, he mentally estimated something and enthusiastically suggested:

“With pleasure, Shui-shixiong. And then you will still have the opportunity to evaluate my talents," Pei Ming responded in the same tone. And he retreated a couple of steps away from him, somehow too slowly, reluctantly, as if just being next to him could find answers to his questions.

Shi Wudu didn't like it right away, so much perseverance that it became clear that Pei Ming wouldn't just give up. Yes, they played this little performance for Ling Wen, they didn't even lie a single word, because they also practiced with swords, and Shi Wudu's movements always turned out to be a little awkward and unassembled when he repeated these complex attacks, requiring immeasurably more experience than he possessed. The attacks that Pei Ming willingly showed him a lot, gently squeezing his wrist with his fingers, turning his hand with the sword in the right direction, explaining at the same time so casually, as if these skills cost him nothing.

It was all true. And at the same time it was not.

The injured wrist ached again, the hand cramped, and Shi Wudu involuntarily dropped the spicy-smelling, crushed leaf back into the grass, winced, pulling down his sleeves. He had already lowered them very low, the golden embroidery of the decoration now tickled his palms, but it seemed to him that this was still not enough. That others might guess.

Ling Wen probably had potions with her that could help – sometimes Shi Wudu felt that she had everything with her that could be imagined. From old scrolls with ancient appeals inscribed on them, which everyone else forgot about many years ago, to the most recent information about demons and the Supremes. From the most important calculations on the Heavenly Capital to minor ink sketches made in a hurry, where uneven lines formed in a bizarre way into snow-capped mountains or waves rolling on the shore. And potions, the most diverse, rare and unusual - and those that were used everywhere. In dark, rounded bottles that smelled tart and sharp - and in transparent, elongated bottles that smelled sweet and cloying, as if they were not potions at all. But it was not Shi Wudu's habit to show his weaknesses to anyone.

"These training sessions of yours always end the same way," Ling Wen shifted her mocking gaze from Shi Wudu shaking off his clothes to Pei Ming picking up the second sword from the ground. “Have you even decided where we're going?” she asked, making it clear that she, unlike them, does not have much time for entertainment, and she certainly would not want to waste it in vain. How many times had it turned out that she had to leave them together right in the middle of an exciting conversation or a specially prepared dinner or a lavish celebration for which they had specially come down. And this caused them annoyance every time, even though it had become habitual.

“And who chooses this time?” Pei Ming perplexedly tugged at a strand of his hair gathered into a high ponytail, and the next moment a satisfied grin appeared on his lips in all its obscenity. “Last time I definitely chose,” he began to straighten his clothes, as if they were open on him again from mere memories and still harbored all those caresses and touches that he had received so generously.

"You said it was an ordinary tea shop," Ling Wen reprimanded him, but it was noticeable that she was amused rather than angry or hurt by this discrepancy. She had known Pei Ming even longer than Shi Wudu had known him, they had a lot in common, and a lot remained hidden, something that he could only vaguely guess about. And secrets, divided into two, bring together more than joint drinking and entertainment.

"Well, they had tea too," Pei Ming chuckled, pleased with himself and the memory of Shi Wudu arching his eyebrow skeptically, and how Ling Wen rubbed her temples with her palms as if she suddenly had a headache, when they found themselves in this tea shop. Although it could be called a tea room very conditionally, and they probably made a very funny contrast – Pei Ming, relaxed on scarlet silk pillows, surrounded by girls whose translucent, embroidered with bright gold, clothes revealed more than they hid – and Shi Wudu, habitually warming his palms on warm porcelain bowls, talking in a low voice with Ling Wen talks about things that don't even remotely resemble what Pei Ming preferred to do. “But now it's clear who chooses. Shui-shixiong?” and he squeezed his shoulder a little in his palm – a little unceremoniously, but not meaning anything bad, nothing that could feel unpleasant or intrusive.

            There was nothing special about this gesture at all, and earlier Shi Wudu would not have attached any importance to it, would not even have noticed, most likely, as you do not notice things that have long become familiar, close, that have become part of you and the one who does these things. Pei Ming preferred not words, but actions, not intricate phrases, but gestures that were intended only for those who are close, for those with whom he could afford a little more and not be constrained by conventions. He could easily allow himself to squeeze his palm as a sign of support, or, laughing, pull it closer, telling about the next completed mission – or the next beauty he met, as if there were not the slightest difference in this. Or he could protect Shi Wudu from the monster, so that the warmth of the body was felt close, so close, or, clasping his wrist in his hands, share spiritual power when his skills of Martial God were useless, but Shi Wudu water could be useful. Little things – and serious, the desire to fool around – and the desire to protect. So different, so unlike one another – but that was the whole Pei Ming, and Shi Wudu was used to it.

            Used to. Earlier.

And he wouldn't have attached any importance to it before.

But now, from one touch, he unbearably wanted to recoil, throw back the palm that was squeezing his shoulder, say something harsh and rude, something that he would never have said to Pei Ming.

Something he would say to Jun Wu.

If he could.

Jun Wu's touch did not carry pain or rudeness, on the contrary, it was soft – deceptively soft, caressing, when he ran his fingers over his bare shoulders, when he squeezed his thighs with sweaty palms, when he pressed his wrists against the crumpled, silk carpets, not allowing him to move. But it was hard to imagine something worse than these caresses, more undesirable than these kisses, harder than this intimacy. He wasn't trying to hurt – no, not at all. Just to have pleasure, just to give pleasure. But that was the most unbearable.

And now Shi Wudu could not tolerate any other people's touch, could not perceive it as something warm and close, and not breaking his will, subjugating him, forcing him.

Even from Pei Ming.

Even, probably, from Qingxuan.

But outwardly Shi Wudu remained calm, allowing Pei Ming to continue squeezing his shoulder as if nothing had happened, enveloping them in this deceptive seeming appearance that nothing had changed and that there was nothing to worry about. Even the trembling that had started managed to calm down quite quickly, even before Pei Ming noticed something. Even before he had to answer questions again. Even before it would ruin the rare day that was meant to be fun for the three of them.

"Open the Distance Shortening Array," Shi Wudu asked instead, since it just so happened that he could choose this time.

He no longer remembered how it happened, but a long time ago, when they first met and started spending time together, one of them suggested that everyone take turns choosing where to go this time. The reason was – either that Pei Ming always chose too spicy entertainment, or that Ling Wen, on the contrary, preferred things mostly related to literature in one way or another, or that Shi Wudu himself always refused to descend into the world of common people, not counting it's something worthy. And so, wanting to avoid monotony, they came up with the idea that each time one of them in a particular order would choose a place to go, so they do not repeat themselves, not to get bored. It was hard to imagine them without this habit, it was so old.

"But this Distance Shortening Array leads down, well, to common people," Pei Ming clarified incomprehensibly, approaching the door with scarlet lanterns, whose pendants quietly rustled in tune with the rising wind. He put his palm to an unremarkable surface, covering it with his spiritual power, which willingly poured out from under his fingers, painting the door with a golden glow. Distance Shortening Array field that flashed after a couple of moments also glowed with bright gold, flickered with curved lines and symbols, drew hieroglyphs that formed into certain meanings and spells. He removed his palm and stared at Shi Wudu with interest, as if waiting for some trick. As if he didn't believe that he wouldn't go back on his words.

"You don't think I don't know where this Distance Shortening Array leads," Shi Wudu chuckled, recalling all those countless moments when Pei Ming saw off another passion right in front of him. And he did not even try to hide either the unbuttoned collar, or the obscene marks on the neck and shoulders, not covered by the clothes that had slipped in disarray, or the satisfied expression on his face. He had never considered it necessary to hide anything from Shi Wudu. And at times it was difficult to understand whether it was worth considering it as neglect – and angry, or trust – and appreciate. To Shi Wudu's taste, all this was excessive and too much, and frankly more than befitting, but it was Pei Ming. And all these things, unacceptable to others, he turned out so simply and naturally that they were taken for granted, something that has always been.

Shi Wudu touched the golden lines with his fingers, drawing out the missing symbols with spiritual power. It was convenient – there was no need to mess with paint, brushes, look for a suitable surface and remember for a long time how exactly the desired sequence of characters is drawn and the exact location is set. He was surprised a lot how such a worthless person as Earth Master managed to come up with such a complex and obeying not everyone spell. He wanted to ask about it out loud from time to time, but he restrained himself, only caught indifferent glances at him and almost felt the gloomy drowsiness enveloping Earth Master.

However, these views were indifferent only until recently. The last time they met, Earth Master stared at him as if he only now realized who was in front of him, as if he wanted to get into his thoughts, into his essence. As if he guessed something. But he could not, well, he could not know about Jun Wu, nor about fate changing, nor about the fact that Shi Wudu did not have and would not have a choice. But in the gold of his gaze, usually dull and sleepy, such fierce sparks flashed that it was impossible not to notice this change. Shi Wudu didn't like it, he didn't like it at all, but no good reason came to mind.

“But this is an ordinary village, and even in such a wilderness,” Pei Ming's puzzled voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He came closer, and now he was looking at the completed Distance Shortening Array as if Shi Wudu had drawn something quite incredible in where they were going to spend time. Something like someone else's palace or a ruined, dilapidated temple many centuries ago, or the lair of some particularly unpleasant demon.

"You don't like going down," Ling Wen supported Pei Ming, and now they both looked at him with sincere incomprehension. Moreover, if surprise rather splashed in Ling Wen's gray eyes, then something too similar to sadness flashed for a moment in Pei Ming's purple eyes. But it wasn't because he guessed that Shi Wudu wanted to be at least a little away from Heaven, from the Emperor's Palace, from what he had to do? Not for the same reason.

"You should know that there is a desire for variety, Pei-xiong," Shi Wudu shrugged mockingly and taunted him, just to prevent him from thinking about things that he definitely shouldn't have thought about. Let him think habitually about all sorts of nonsense and all kinds of obscenities, and his swords and weapons in the armory, and those missions that he had to do, which even the most intelligent junior officials would not cope with. Let him think about anything, just not about what makes Shi Wudu descend, returning to the world of ordinary people, which he never loved, about which he had too many bad memories, which repelled him with all its essence.

“Ah, well, yes, of course,” Pei Ming agreed no less mockingly, and was the first to step forward, pulling on the door handle decorated with ornate carvings and a scarlet tassel.

 

* * *

 

A village chosen at random, and turned out to be, as Pei Ming put it, in some kind of wilderness, in fact turned out to be not so bad. Colorful rows of shops invitingly tinkled with small bells entwined with ribbons and were filled with the voices of merchants touting their wares in all sorts of ways. And those who still doubted, in addition, got all sorts of delicious smells, from lemon-spicy baked fish to warm-sweet apples in caramel. The ordinary village, but a sunny, not autumn bright day gave elegance to these shops, and the scarlet leaves of maples that grew luxuriantly along the shore, and a huge lake that stretched just behind the shopping rows.

This lake immediately attracted Shi Wudu's attention. The water in it felt incredibly deep, transparent, and turquoise dragonflies were circling and midges were curling over the radiating surface. But there was nothing unusual in this water, Shi Wudu checked it as soon as they found themselves in the village. Any water, be it sea waves or icy mountain springs, or sleepy, duckweed-covered lakes could harbor all those dangers and all those creatures who somehow belonged to the water. And it was better to find out about it in advance than to face it later, when thoughts are occupied with something completely different and attentiveness falls and weakens. Not that Shi Wudu could be afraid of any of the small water demons or spirits, but they could cause a lot of trouble, even if not too weighty. And he certainly didn't want to spoil such a day.

“What are we ordering?” Pei Ming asked curiously, clearly attuned to the noisy rows of shops and what they could offer. He looked around with genuine interest, as if he was here for the first time. However, most likely, it was – well, what business could one of the strongest Martial God have in such a backwater. For such small villages, lost among the mountains and hills, there were enough junior officials, even not the most skillful ones. Since nothing more serious than quarreling neighbors, missing chickens and small, albeit nasty demons, usually did not happen in such places.

"I don't need anything," Shi Wudu shook his head in response to this suggestion. He really didn't want to eat, on the contrary, even thoughts of food made him wince and lick his lips in confusion. It was as if he had recently had the temerity to touch some unappetizing dish, although he had not eaten for several days - first he forgot, then there was no desire, then business distracted him. “I'll wait for you there,” he waved his folded fan towards the densely overgrown shore of the lake, where it was so convenient to get a rest, lost among the tall grasses and lush water vegetation.

"We'll be quick," Pei Ming assured him and, taking Ling Wen by the arm, led her towards the shops. Walking a little further away, they seemed to start arguing about something, and then Pei Ming burst out laughing, and Ling Wen followed him with a soft, barely perceptible laugh. But Shi Wudu heard this and caught himself smiling against his will – a little, almost imperceptibly, but still smiling. He probably should have avoided them, given the circumstances, but as long as he wasn't forbidden to be near them directly, until Jun Wu ordered him to stop any communication with these two, he still couldn't bring himself to give up the little that was important, that mattered to him.

The grasses parted, letting him get closer to the water, letting him almost to the very edge of the lake, so that if you stretched out your hand, you could touch the gently splashing water. Which Shi Wudu did, settling down on the shore. The waters of the lake turned out to be cool, fresh, contrary to expectations, as if the sun did not reach here and could not warm up the transparent depth. The drops pleasantly cooled his fingers, dripped down, leaving blurred traces on his clothes, but Shi Wudu did not open the fan and dry them with a single movement, as he did whenever he was flooded with water during missions. Slightly soaked clothes did not interfere at all, and the feeling of cool humidity was so pleasant that he wanted to add more. And he did not deny himself this - he dipped both palms into the water, leading them over the light sand and small pebbles dotting the bottom.

“This is for you,” the tanghulu that poked into his hand was dripping with sticky syrup, smelled of sweet, ripe berries and made him feel hungry, reminding him how long he had not eaten. Shi Wudu raised his head and came across a satisfied look from Pei Ming, who appeared next to him somehow unexpectedly, as if he had not left nowhere, but immediately followed him. Or, thinking, Shi Wudu lost track of time, and the two had already managed to walk through the shopping rows, buy what they wanted, and return here to him, as agreed.

"I told you I didn't want anything," he hesitated, looking at tanghulu, looking at Pei Ming, looking at the caramel drops that slowly flowed down from the treats. Maybe he shouldn't have persevered so much. Maybe he shouldn't have been thinking about the same thing all the time. Maybe he needed to learn to do more than just endless chores and responsibilities for a long time.

"It's just tanghulu. So, it's not food at all," Pei Ming was not at all embarrassed. He was clearly not going to retreat, his whole appearance suggested that this was not why he dragged himself around the shopping rows and carefully chose. Or rather, maybe he did not choose very carefully, but certainly with thoughts about a particular person.

And Shi Wudu, stretching out, slowly touched the wand warm either from the sun or from Pei Ming's palms and took tanghulu to himself, trying not to stain his clothes even more. He ran his tongue over the caramel that had melted in the sun, licked more, picking up the dripping drops. Sweetness with a slightly spicy tinge was spreading in his mouth, he wanted to close his eyes and just feel this caramel aroma and spicy aftertaste. If he does this, if he closes his eyes and allows himself not to think, then he could imagine that he was back in the garden at his parents' house, that autumn had just begun, and the sun was still warming and sliding rays down his cheeks, and tanghulu in his hands stained clothes, but he would wipe them off later, a little later.

“The place is quite picturesque,” there was such obvious surprise in Ling Wen's voice that Shi Wudu involuntarily opened his eyes again, only to admire Ling Wen’s confusion. “When you chose, I thought I'd have to spend the whole day among dilapidated houses and armfuls of rotten straw,” she remarked, calmly licking her tanghulu. Either Pei Ming decided to treat them all, or their tastes coincided, and they both chose the same thing, regardless of each other. Perhaps Shi Wudu would have put it first. Pei Ming has always been generous, and even more so to close friends. His extravagance at times seemed excessive to Shi Wudu, and he himself would not do anything like this in many moments. But in little things like this, like such a simple sweet, why not.

Silver fish splashed deep in the water column, their scales looked like small coins scattered by someone in a mess on the bottom of the lake. Shi Wudu felt them, as he felt everything that was water, and belonged to water. Not only water spirits and demons, but also creatures that had nothing to do with the ghost world. Probably, if he had become a demon, he would have lost this ability, and would have felt only the same inanimate as himself, only that which belonged to shadows and darkness. But he was a deity, and this ability was as much a part of him as a fan or spiritual power.

"As you can see, it's not so bad," Shi Wudu responded in the tone of Ling Wen, licking his lips and not caring at all that his palms had become sticky, and a few small drops of caramel were flowing down his cheek. Let it be. He will still have time and opportunity to regain his detached perfection.

“You know how to choose. There are also enough beauties here," Pei Ming chuckled, watching one of those whom he designated as a beauty. Shi Wudu only had time to notice the dark hair gathered in a complicated, high hairstyle and the greenish ribbons rustling in the wind that decorated her hairpins.

Involuntarily, he remembered Qingxuan, his inappropriate predilection for a female appearance and for a soft green color, which only added a defiant frankness to his appearance. It was impossible to count how much they argued about it. And Shi Wudu's anxiety - justified and caused by the knowledge that Qingxuan did not really belong and never belonged to the fate of the deity, and that this made him much weaker and more vulnerable than he used to think of himself - was perceived by Qingxuan only as attempts to coerce and force him. Stupid, how stupid. After all, if he came across a slightly stronger demon, attracted by his seductive appearance…

But the worst part was how happy Qingxuan was for him now, knowing about him with Jun Wu, or rather, not knowing. Shi Wudu knew, always knew, that one day he would have to pay for what he had done. For stolen fate. For fate changing spell, smacking of cold and darkness, and impossibility. Forbidden to the deity. He knew and did not resist it, he knew, and was ready to answer for his choice.

But he never thought, could not even imagine, that he would have to pay this way. That he will be forced to humiliate himself and fulfill any whim. And not just anyone, but Heavenly Emperor himself. Who could now do with him whatever he saw fit, whatever his desires prompted him to do.

And Shi Wudu did not even think that one day he, so disliking to descend, so disliking his former life as common person, would enjoy and absorb every moment spent as far away from Heaven as possible. Well, it was worth admitting that it had been a long time since he had received so much pleasure from an ordinary walk, ordinary food and ordinary company for himself. Shi Wudu licked the tanghulu, trying not to miss a single drop of caramel, running his tongue from the bottom up. And suddenly he felt as if something had pushed him, and, turning around, he caught Pei Ming's strange, too-intense gaze on him.

Shi Wudu was about to ask what was the matter, but suddenly he felt like he was being summoned through private spiritual communication array. The familiar feeling of enveloping cold made him hurriedly put his fingers to his temple, and what he heard only confirmed his worst fears. Jun Wu. Well, of course, who else would need him right now. The moment was probably not chosen by chance. For a reason. Like everything Jun Wu did to him. Not missing a single opportunity to make him feel all his weakness, all his vulnerability, everything that he was so not used to.

“Water Master,” slightly muffled, stretching the vowels, which made the words sound even more mocking along with this useless title. “I suppose you forgot about our agreement, since you allowed yourself to go somewhere,” cloying, even too much. And dangerous, covered with an imaginary relaxation of intonation. Like a sharp blade under the deliciously flowing silk.

They had no agreement. Shi Wudu simply couldn't afford the luxury of forgetting about his appointment with Jun Wu. He almost hissed inwardly, again feeling the full weight of what he had voluntarily agreed to. Wanting to silence him, to make him stop pouring out these false words, filled with false politeness and respect.

"But we haven’t talked about anything..." Shi Wudu began and stopped, realizing that if he started to object, if he dared to pretend that he didn't understand what he was talking about, then the consequences would be unpredictable, but certainly not pleasant. And it would be fine only for him, he could somehow still stand it, somehow he could allow himself to be taken, let him do with his body everything that Jun Wu wanted to do with him, submit and give in. But it could have touched someone else. Qingxuan. Pei Ming. Ling Wen. “Yes, My Lord," he said slowly, feeling his fingers tremble as they were brought to his temple. They trembled so openly that if at least one of the two of them was looking at him at that moment, it was simply impossible not to notice this tremor. He didn't want it, but he didn't always manage to suppress the reactions of the body, to suppress what was happening to him unconsciously, against his will. “I apologize," he forced himself to say with difficulty, feeling that Jun Wu was waiting for this, that he wanted his apology, wanted to hear that he was completely at his mercy, as he had agreed when he accepted his terms.

“In that case, I'll be waiting for you at the Palace. And as soon as possible," and now steel was added to the voice, no longer hiding and pretending to be elegant silver. Now it was especially clear how unhappy Jun Wu was, and how much he did not intend to let Shi Wudu go so easily, no matter what he had prepared for him in the Palace.

Jun Wu did not wait for an answer – and he knew so well that Shi Wudu would hurry to him, that he would no longer lick the thick, sticky caramel, nor finish the spicy-sweet tanghulu, nor listen to Pei Ming and Ling Wen bicker, sounding so familiar, so cozy.

This time, he even dispensed with the scroll with the invitation neatly inscribed on it, just not to let Shi Wudu do something that was not a duty, a duty, and not entertainment. Or was Jun Wu angered by something else? But what? He didn't do much. Unless… A sword training with Pei Ming? Shi Wudu frowned in bewilderment, trying to figure out what Jun Wu might not like about their sword fight. Nothing special, they trained like this many times, a little predictably, but no one tried to win. And yet, something made him angry, and even so much so that he did not allow Shi Wudu to stay with the others for a moment longer.

"I have to go," he stood up, feeling both awkward and furious. Awkwardness, because he suggested this settlement, he suggested going down, and now he hasn't spent even an hour with the two of them. And the rage that overshadowed everything else, the rage that someone dared to order him, force him, interfere with what he used to consider his own and only his own.

The water in the lake, so clear and calm before, suddenly began to ripple, as if from a wind. But there was no wind, just the same humid stuffiness of a sun-warmed day, filling everything around with sleepy slowness. The ripples intensified, went in unsteady, foaming waves, rising higher and higher, turning into a real storm. Icy, dark waves swept over the shore, crashed down on it, crushed the thick grass, scattering light sand from the bottom and a scattering of small, twisted shells on it. And they subsided, alarmed and dissatisfied.

He didn't do it intentionally. And he didn't do it unconsciously either. The water that obeyed him, itself responded to his mood, to his rage and his anger.

"Shui-shixiong," Pei Ming looked like he wanted to say something important, something that probably shouldn't have been said. Or to do something unexpected, something that was completely out of character for him. But instead, he just watched, without uttering a word, as Shi Wudu drew Distance Shortening Array, as his spiritual power trembled and melted, drawing the necessary symbols, filling the spell with a golden glow.

He still didn't say or do anything when Shi Wudu silently nodded to them and put his palm to the shimmering golden field.

Chapter 5

Shi Wudu hurried as fast as he could. Distance Shortening Array scattered with golden reflections, left far behind, but he still had to get to the Palace – he used the nearest field for a spell, but not one of those that led directly to the Palace, or even to the chambers of Heavenly Emperor. Jun Wu did not give him such access and did not allow him so much, and it is unlikely that he will ever allow it. Shi Wudu understood his place perfectly, and all the conventions that separated them. There were no feelings, no intimacy, or anything remotely resembling a relationship. On the contrary, only a shared bed, only lust, only the desire to possess. It suited him, but that's why he didn't count on anything more.

And now he was in a hurry, fearing Jun Wu's anger. But not directed at him, but such a hidden one that lurks not in harsh words or excessive rudeness, but in words much more subtle and sharp, like a sharpened blade, and in rudeness more refined, but no less painful. Although as long as Jun Wu's discontent was directed at him and only at him, it was tolerable. It could be sustained. He will continue to feign submission. Will continue to obey. He will continue to apologize, as he did today, even if there is no fault behind him. As long as it was all about him, it didn't matter.

Junior officials who opened the doors to Jun Wu's chambers in front of him looked unperturbed and indifferent. It was as if behind the tall, elaborately carved doors there was not a bedroom at all, but an armory or a hall for celebrations. Although much more – everyone already knew in whose colors Shi Wudu wears earrings, and whose gift it was. It was unlikely that there was at least someone left in Heavenly capital who has not yet been reached by these rumors, sticky and viscous, like a spider's web, from which you want to shake off as soon as possible, throw off yourself, accidentally caught. And for Jun Wu's junior officials not to know about these rumors, it was certainly unthinkable. Most likely, they also confirmed them in these mocking whispers over a cup of wine in another tavern. And after all, they had something to tell. Shi Wudu, constantly visiting Jun Wu's bedroom. Shi Wudu, returning from there with disheveled hair and rumpled clothes. Shi Wudu, whose high collar, embroidered with silver and waves, could not hide all the traces that remained on it after everything.

But outwardly, of course, they bowed respectfully in front of him, opening the doors. Outwardly, no one even dared to look at him. And no one allowed himself to look closely to see if there were still noticeable traces from their last meeting, or Jun Wu could start all over again, making him moan and cry out in his arms again.

"Water Master," Jun Wu, who rose to meet him, remained faithful to his greeting. Shi Wudu felt that a little more and he would hate his title, it sounded so unbearable every time. Like a mockery. Over everything that Shi Wudu has achieved – over his power, his high position, his capabilities. And the most disgusting thing was that there was a certain right Jun Wu possessed to act like that. After all, with his single desire, Jun Wu could deprive him of all this in one moment. Just stop hiding the truth. Just unfold in front of everyone a grayish, time-faded scroll with winding lines of Fate changing spell. Just to do what he could do, had to do. Wanted to do? No, not yet. Shi Wudu didn't know how long it would last, how many more times Jun Wu would take him before he got bored of it. But the longer it lasts, the better. “I dare hope that such a misunderstanding will not happen again,” now danger was added to his deceptively soft voice, a warning was added. And Shi Wudu thought it best to heed this warning.

"Pray forgive my forgetfulness," he repeated his apologies.

There was something sticky, sweet on his cheek and lips, and Shi Wudu realized that he had not wiped the caramel from tanghulu. Warm, sticky caramel that reminded of a sunny day, silvery fish in the depths of the lake and a sun-warmed tree under fingers. Which reminded him that he would like to be there, in that village lost among the mountains and hills, and not in the twilight of Heavenly Emperor’s chambers, cool and shaky. And as strange as possible.

Jun Wu's palms rested on his shoulders, pulled him closer, and studied his clothes, which absorbed the fresh smell of grass and lake water. A little pressure, a little stroking, so skillfully combining affection and perseverance. His dark eyes slid over Shi Wudu's lips, lingered on his cheek, became even more mocking and displeased at the same time. And in the next moment, Jun Wu abruptly pulled Shi Wudu towards him, touched his tongue to the soiled cheek – at first gently, weightlessly, and then more and more noticeably. He walked from the bottom up, licking the caramel, leaving a wet trail on the skin. He licked his lips, as if tasting that caramel. The stickiness on his cheek mixed with saliva, a viscous moisture that chilled his skin, a moisture that not only could not be erased, but even touched until Jun Wu allowed him to do it with a casual nod of his head.

"Not the most suitable dish for Water Master," Jun Wu's voice sounded relaxed, even somewhat lazy, but Shi Wudu knew too well the value of this imaginary relaxation. He made it clear to him that he was dissatisfied with him, that even such a trifle as the caramel left on him was unacceptable. That he wouldn't forgive him next time. What Shi Wudu could not understand was what exactly Jun Wu disliked so much, which made him clench his hands on his shoulders with such fury, so that the fabric of clothes and silver embroidery crumpled, and there would surely be traces on the skin, dark and ugly, spreading like ink drops. Which he will also not be allowed to heal, which he will look at with special pleasure after their next meeting.

Shi Wudu did not object, and Jun Wu, with a satisfied grunt, suddenly touched his lips with his tongue, continuing to lick the remaining caramel. He moved thoughtfully, holding Shi Wudu in place, pressed his lips to his lips. Not kissing, no, rather studying, touching, walking slowly and slightly pressing, as if he was really interested in this sweet, spicy taste, these dark transparent drops that absorbed the autumn sun. As if he was actually interested in Shi Wudu.

Pain - sharp, unexpected - pierced Shi Wudu when Jun Wu bit through his lip without any warning. Blood flowed immediately, without holding back, as unexpectedly strong as it seemed unlikely to flow from a bitten lip. Scarlet drops trickled down, stained the collar of clothes, soaked skin, left bright spots on the fabric. The scarlet mixed with silver, eclipsing the faded taste of caramel, erasing the remnants of an unseasonably warm day. Shi Wudu no longer felt this spicy stickiness on his cheek and lips, no longer remembered the taste of tanghulu, nor how sleepily the water splashed in the lake, nor how tart the little leaf that got tangled in his clothes smelled. Only blood, its salty taste, its pungent smell, its drops that flowed so willingly. Shi Wudu wasn't sure if he was allowed to wipe the blood off, if he was even allowed to lick it off his lips – and didn't do anything. He just stood there silently, looking at Jun Wu, not looking away, but also not asking any questions, not trying to find out anything. And trying not to think about what else Jun Wu would want to do with him.

But he no longer began to cause pain, on the contrary, he unclenched his fingers on his shoulders, pulled away – barely, almost imperceptibly. Thoughtfully, he smeared the blood on Shi Wudu's face, drawing uneven, tangled lines, tracing them on his skin and on his clothes. And then he asked a question that made Shi Wudu feel cold inside:

“Did I imagine it, or did you change your mind about honoring our agreement? Tell me if so, and I'll think what I can do about it.”

Now there was something undisguisedly predatory in Jun Wu's appearance, something that was more characteristic of demons. Not the petty and useless ones that were only capable of pointlessly annoying people without causing real harm. But those demons who possessed considerable strength and power, and did their dark deeds without fear of anyone, and not every deity would dare to fight against them. If Shi Wudu did not know for sure who Jun Wu was, he would certainly doubt his divine essence at this moment. Because Heavenly Emperor should not look like one of the most dangerous demons.

"I haven't changed my mind," Shi Wudu forced himself to say evenly, although he couldn't let go of the mocking thought that Jun Wu quickly got bored in this case. Although the fact that he talked to him, even about not the most desirable things, suggested that no, it wasn't that he was bored, or decided to abandon their agreement. Otherwise, he wouldn't have wasted another moment on him. He would just do what he had to do as Heavenly Emperor.

            But then what was he waiting for? And what made him so angry? Perhaps it was worth falling on knees in front of him and apologizing until he allowed to get up – gently supporting by shoulders or roughly pulling hands, depending on how much he likes these apologies. Perhaps it was worth lying at the feet, begging for something, begging and promising to do anything. Perhaps. But Shi Wudu would not do any of this until he was given to understand directly that something like this was expected of him. Until Jun Wu himself said out loud that he wanted someone else's humiliation and words filled with despair and fear. No, until it was said, Shi Wudu wouldn't do any of this. He wouldn't, that's all. And if that was what was wanted of him, if that was what was expected of him, then it was worth naming it directly, and in no other way.

"In that case, I guess it was just my imagination," Jun Wu unexpectedly agreed simply, surprising Shi Wudu a lot with this. He didn't want to, but he was willing to go through all these humiliating entreaties if it would save Qingxuan. But no, for some reason Jun Wu retreated as quickly as he asked his question, filled with inexplicable distrust. Did he really prefer his disobedience to submission and his cold answers to hot pleas?

"I suppose so," Shi Wudu agreed, adjusting the collar stained with his own blood. He grimaced mentally, thinking that the silver embroidery was so finely made that it was unknown whether the servants would be able to wash it. Earlier, when he was still common person, and he washed his own things, and Qingxuan's things too, in the river closest to their house, he would probably have been more confident that he would be able to get rid of these bright scarlet spots. But all those who were accustomed to Heavens, to their idleness and unhurriedness, were as useless as they were lazy, and there was no use of them in everyday affairs.

            The next moment, Shi Wudu barely restrained a cry when Jun Wu pulled him sharply against himself again. Jun Wu clung to him, not letting escape or pull away, and began to kiss him so rudely and willingly, as if he had been thinking about this all day, imagining only this, and not being engaged in heavenly and martial affairs. The bitten lip responded with hot pain to every touch, to every kiss, which was more like a rage being poured out, rather than a gentle caress. But Shi Wudu responded to this kiss, this one and the next one, opened his mouth slightly, letting Jun Wu's tongue deeper, allowing him to torment his lips and deepen the kiss more and more, so that their saliva got in the way, and the other’s lips were also stained with blood.

            It all stopped as suddenly as it had begun. Jun Wu pulled back a little, looked with satisfaction at Shi Wudu's torn lips, the blood on his face and on his clothes, and began to lick this blood as if nothing had happened. So gently. As if it wasn't him at all, just a moment ago, intentionally hurting him, deliberately being rude and unrestrained, deliberately kissing him in such a way as to deliver even more unpleasant sensations, to make him feel every touch. Now he became the complete opposite of himself, as if these moments were separated not by some minutes, but by countless years and centuries, as if there were so many contradictions in him that it was difficult to imagine in one person.

            Jun Wu's tongue, gently passing over the skin and lips. Caressing. Warm. Pleasant. And if it wasn't for how it turned out, not this addiction – Shi Wudu would really like this. It would be really attractive. He liked it even now, it was difficult not to succumb to the desires of the body, but behind all this pleasure there was always a wariness that crossed out everything. There was always the knowledge that it was just a shared bed. There was always an understanding that all this would never become sincere.

            These caresses stopped as suddenly as they began. Jun Wu suddenly pushed him away from him, rudely and with undisguised hostility, and then did something that made Shi Wudu bite his wounded lip in order to somehow restrain the scream that was tearing from his tightly closed lips. His injured wrist in sword training with Pei Ming. Which he never managed to heal, he never managed to apply potion, dark and bitter-smelling, which was supposed to help him heal, allow the wound to heal, and his hand to stop responding with hot pain to every awkward movement. Because at first he didn't want to say anything to Ling Wen, and then he had no way to visit his Palace and find the right jar among the many others that spread the aroma of medicinal herbs and damp wood around the room.

            The way Jun Wu grabbed him by that wrist, the way he forcefully squeezed it in his hand, squeezed it so that he wanted to scream and scream and scream, forgetting about everything, forgetting about their agreement, forgetting about that damn scroll with Fate changing spell. He had the body of an immortal deity, of course, but it was still able to feel pain, feel damage, not immediately heal wounds. And now Jun Wu was obviously deliberately twisting his injured wrist to unbearable pain, not allowing according to their agreement to either pull out his hand or push him away. The pain spread over the skin, penetrated through, and at some point Shi Wudu thought that he was just going to lose consciousness, but at exactly the same moment it was over, as if it had never happened. It was as if he imagined rough fingers on the parted skin and undisguised rage felt from Jun Wu.

            And it became clear that he knew and initially knew about everything – about sword training with Pei Ming, that Shi Wudu could never surpass any Martial God in the possession of a sword, that his skills left much to be desired and that no matter how hard he tried, it all turned out to be only dislocated wrist and expected defeat. That he knows about their conversation. And that Pei Ming asked more than it was worth, than it should be known to someone who only uses someone else's influence to exaggerate and strengthen his own. More than could be of interest to someone for whom only their own affairs and influence are important, as was true of almost all those who happened to become deity.

            And that was what made Jun Wu so angry.

The scattered fragments formed into a single whole, little things, details, insignificant and inconspicuous made sense, and Shi Wudu guessed what was the matter – a conversation with Pei Ming. That's what made Jun Wu angry. Questions, too many questions, Pei Ming, hovering over him with a sword in his hands, so close that drops of sweat were visible on his heated skin, so close that long strands gathered in a ponytail touched Shi Wudu's face, tickled him, unexpectedly cozy and not at all unpleasant. And his assumptions, his doubts, how long and intimately he knew Shi Wudu, how much time he spent with him. How could he find out about something. About something that no one is supposed to know about. Especially those who are close to him.

Well, then, he will have to stop such conversations and questions much more sharply than he did this time. Otherwise, the next time Jun Wu's anger will pour out not only on him. And Qingxuan, that's also Qingxuan, Shi Wudu will have to portray in front of him what he wants to believe, what he likes so much, what will make him happy for Shi Wudu, and not look as distrustful and wary as Pei Ming looked at him. How fleetingly Ling Wen looked at him. In a way that could not be looked at, thought about, or assumed.

"I dare hope that what I have prepared for you will replace the interrupted meeting with... friends," Jun Wu suggested again, deceptively gently. But the way he spoke about his friends, the way it sounded – cold, permeated with disgust and dislike – all this left no doubt that the reason for his discontent lay precisely in this, precisely in this meeting that turned into so many troubles. And that Shi Wudu correctly guessed that Jun Wu does not accept such conversations and hints. “Come here," he said ingratiatingly, and then suddenly pulled Shi Wudu sharply towards him again, continuing to cripple his wrist, and pushed him towards a low table hidden in the semi-darkness with such force that Shi Wudu fell right on the floor next to him, barely keeping his balance.

But he still held on – straightened up somehow, straightened his rumpled clothes, tried to settle on the floor as if he himself had descended here, gracefully and unhurriedly. He arranged silk pillows more comfortably around himself, feeling the pleasant coolness of the fabric under his fingers, sliding and weightless, reminding him of the deep waters of the lake that splashed and shimmered in gold under the rays of the sun in that village. For some reason, this feeling added him calmness, and Shi Wudu calmly looked up, encountering Jun Wu's dark, gloomy gaze.

He no longer tried to portray an imaginary courtesy and gentleness, on the contrary, all that darkness that seemed to be his essence was clearly visible on his face. All the strange, unspoken things that Shi Wudu would not have even thought about before, would not even have guessed. But it was true. Heavenly Emperor, as it seemed, was not at all as simple as deities used to think, not at all as great as the townsfolk used to think, and not at all as infallible as told in ancient legends. Not at all. The way he treated Shi Wudu alone said a lot, and made him think about a lot. A vague, distant thought that it could be used somehow flashed on the edge of consciousness, but Shi Wudu was almost immediately distracted by what Jun Wu had prepared for him. As a gift? Or just something new in their bed pleasures?

The table set for him was striking in its splendor. Once Shi Wudu was poor, really poor - the only dish he could afford with Qingxuan was rice with vegetables, often so old, spreading under the sticks and tasteless that it was easier to eat only rice. Once he was happy if he managed to go to bed not hungry. Once, all kinds of smells from the stalls – juicy, fried meat, spicy rice soup, sugary-sweet, caramel–baked fruits - forced him to hurriedly pass by so as not to succumb to temptation and not buy something to eat for himself instead of clothes for Qingxuan or scrolls for his training. Once, so long ago that no one who knew him now would have believed that such a thing was possible. That it was once his life, his every day routine. But then, when he ascended, he could afford any dishes, even the rarest and most exquisite ones, even those that were inaccessible to common people. Not that he used it all the time, but he knew a lot about good food, and it was difficult to surprise him with something.

But Jun Wu still managed it. Plum wines, golden-transparent, shimmering with tiny sparks in the semi-darkness, with pieces of plums that are located at the very bottom. Several types, different in taste – spicy, which were prepared from sweet plums grown in the south, and absorbed all the heat and sun of summer, and tart – from sour plums of the north, on which, it seemed, almost in reality you could see large flakes of snow that foreshadowed a long winter and snowfall. Meat baked in rare herbs that could be harvested only at a certain point of the year. Herbs that required careful and patient handling, since they were also dried strictly within their allotted time, and so that the rays of the sun did not dry them too weakly or strongly, spoiling the rich taste. And meat fried in a special rice dough that rolled out so thin that it seemed almost transparent, so that bright daylight willingly poured through it. Sweets with fillings of all kinds of fruits; the sweets so airy, lush, such that it seemed that you would touch them with sticks, and they would fall into them, as if into a deep layer of recently fallen snow, and in color resembling the same snow.

Jun Wu quietly sat down next to him at the table, began to look at him a little mockingly and with undisguised curiosity.

"So I managed to please you," he said with satisfaction, looking as if he was only thinking about how to make Shi Wudu feel the genuine pleasure. Maybe he would have believed it, but his wrist still reminded him of itself with a pulling, persistent pain, and the blood from the bitten lip decorated his snow-white clothes. “Give me your hand here," Jun Wu suddenly asked, and Shi Wudu hesitated, mentally grimacing before he fulfilled the demand. Or a request. Although Jun Wu's requests were all too similar to demands or orders.

But, contrary to expectations, Jun Wu did not squeeze and twist his sore wrist again. On the contrary, he took out an inconspicuous vial from his gold and scarlet embroidered clothes, in which a dark – slightly darker, brownish frosted glass bubble – liquid splashed, smelling of swamp green in the semi-darkness of the chambers. Shi Wudu didn't know what it was exactly until Jun Wu opened the delicate, tiny lid made of the finest silver work. There was a smell of woody dampness, moss and bitter herbs, and Shi Wudu guessed that it was just potion that helps heal not too serious injuries faster, such as his injured wrist.

“Did you expect something else?” Jun Wu arched an eyebrow in deliberate surprise, holding the vial directly to the parted, slightly bleeding skin. There, where a huge, purple bruise spread among the bruises, which Jun Wu himself added to him. And there was something so inexplicable, so senseless in this hypocritical concern that Shi Wudu did not even object. What for? Whatever game Jun Wu was playing, now he was touching his palm gently, carefully, as if he really wasn't going to cause more pain. His hands, warm and confident, unlike Shi Wudu's always cold, freezing hands, stroked his cramped fingers, coaxing him to relax and just let him do what he could do for him. “Be patient a little, potion is not pleasant," Jun Wu warned him, and Shi Wudu wanted to laugh in his face. How funny and disgusting it was at the same time.

But he was silent, not saying a word, only wincing slightly as the cool, viscous drops of potion slowly covered his wrist. It wasn't too painful or unbearable, but he shuddered at the strange sensation of cold that enveloped him with each new drop, spread over his hand, and bound him as if with ice. It wasn't that he often used such potions, but it seemed to him that they could rather burn or tingle, rather than cause thoughts that autumn around them had somehow inexplicably turned into winter, and snow, which had come from nowhere in Palace of Heavenly Emperor, fell directly on his hands, making him shiver.

After closing and hiding the vial again, Jun Wu began to rub the unwillingly yielding drops on his wrist, rubbing them, pressing, but at the same time his movements still remained careful and cautious, as if he was not the reason at all. In any case, partly the reason. Potion was absorbed, a dark haze trembled slightly on the skin, and Shi Wudu unexpectedly felt how much less his wrist hurt now, how the pain, sharp and hot, dulled and almost subsided, and could not resist a surprised exclamation, which caused Jun Wu to smile contentedly.

"It's done," he said, carefully examining the slightly pale bruise, which had turned not purple, but pale blue, and the blood that had stopped dripping from the damaged skin. “Come here, it will be more convenient," he ordered without any transition, pointing to his knees with a glance. However, Shi Wudu would have understood what was required of him even without that look. Well, not just to enjoy delicious food and wine, he prepared this table. And clearly not only dinner was part of his plans and desires.

And Shi Wudu obeyed – got up, without taking his eyes off Jun Wu, came closer, letting him fully enjoy the spectacle. Disheveled hair after sword training with Pei Ming – and snow–white earrings that were a gift from Jun Wu, which cost him so many rumors, a barely noticeable, tiny trace of caramel in the corner of his lips that remained from the tanghulu given to him by Pei Ming - and traces of blood that remained from Jun Wu's rough kisses. Understanding and satisfaction flashed in the dark, impenetrable gaze – it meant that Shi Wudu did everything right, so to let himself be admired like this, stained with blood and imperfect was exactly what Jun Wu craved, what attracted him and made him want Shi Wudu.

And then, just like that, without saying a word, he knelt down to Jun Wu, moved a little, getting more comfortable, and at the same time checking whether he was already aroused or not. Jun Wu's arousal could be felt even through the layers of luxurious clothes, even through the thick, gold-embroidered fabric. And Shi Wudu was not surprised at all, rather, on the contrary, it gave the feeling that everything between them was happening as it should, as he was used to it, and it was possible not to expect anything that would be difficult for him to cope with. Shi Wudu placed his palms on Jun Wu's shoulders for balance, looked at him questioningly. No, not now, not yet. If he wanted to go straight to bed pleasures, he would not have paid so much attention to all these exquisite dishes and rare wines. Shi Wudu had studied him enough during this time, and knew that Jun Wu never did anything for nothing, never wasted his time on unnecessary and insignificant things.

Chapter 6

And again, he was not mistaken when Jun Wu, smiling contentedly, reached out with chopsticks to pieces of meat in spicy herbs, picked up one of them and brought it to Shi Wudu's lips. And it only meant that he had correctly understood Jun Wu’s intentions. And that he knows not so little about who he has engaged in an invisible, but such a serious duel, on the outcome of which a lot, if not everything, will depend. Shi Wudu deliberately smiled faintly – invitingly, making it clear that he liked what was being done to him – and opened his mouth slightly. He carefully wrapped his lips around the offered piece, pulled it towards him, feeling the warm herbs that densely covered the meat stick to his lips. So, all this was prepared quite recently, especially for his return. Well, it was worth noting that Jun Wu had gone all out as soon as he decided to make it clear that he would not tolerate any conversations about what was happening between them. From no-one at all. To arrange this table, ask the servants to cook so many different dishes, get rare wine – probably from his own personal stash, certainly something that you won't find just like that even here, even if you have enough gold bars. And this is just after a little conversation and meaningless questions.

Piece by piece, Shi Wudu allowed himself to be fed – not that it gave him any pleasure, but the meat turned out to be really juicy, delicious, absorbed the aroma and astringency of herbs. Shi Wudu was not hungry, he hated this false foreplay, he did not like the lack of choice – but he was able to appreciate the taste even so, even when he did not want it. He thought about it, and was surprised to feel that the next piece poked into his lips was different from the previous ones – softer, sweeter and smelled different. And the sticks that Jun Wu was holding were also touching him in a different way now.

And, looking up, Shi Wudu realized that instead of meat, he was offered to go straight to dessert, and a piece of apple in sweet syrup, boiled and thick, touches his lips. It was worth continuing what he had started, and Shi Wudu deliberately slowly ran his tongue over the sticky, transparent-dark surface, licking the syrup, forcing its sugar drops to remain on his lips and face. He clasped his hands on Jun Wu's shoulders, trying to keep his balance better, shifted, again feeling Jun Wu’s arousal. And it caused so many contradictions in him. On the one hand, it turned out that he was doing everything right, and that Jun Wu wanted him and enjoyed the anticipation, deliberately pushing back the moment when he would take him. On the other hand, knowing about it was somehow especially disgusting after what he did to him when he got aroused.

Shi Wudu licked off drop by drop, and touched the sticks with his lips, licking them too, behaving so unbridled, as was not at all typical of him, but as was clearly expected of him. His palms trembled on Jun Wu's shoulders as he lowered his eyelashes and slowly licked the next piece of apple, getting dirty in the syrup and licking off this sugary sweetness. He licked everything to the drop, so as to fully enjoy the spectacle. So that Jun Wu would forget about why he had summoned him here today, without even bothering to draw a scroll with an invitation, as he always did, so great was his impatience and rage. Drop by drop, a little more, his hands involuntarily clenched on Jun Wu’s shoulders, just because it was more convenient. Drop by drop, almost without feeling the taste, thinking only about whether he is doing enough, or Jun Wu will be dissatisfied with him again.

“Have you eaten enough?” Shi Wudu was taken aback by the question, he was sure that all this would continue not until he will eat enough, but until Jun Wu got bored. And he didn't immediately find an answer when Jun Wu put down his chopsticks and reached for the wine and two small bowls of snow-white porcelain. The bowls seemed quite simple, ordinary, which can be found in any, the most run-down stall. If you don't know how rare such porcelain is, thin and sparkling even in semi-darkness, and how difficult it is to find it.

“Yes, thank you. Such a table could only be arranged by someone who has excellent taste,” Shi Wudu licked his lips, uttering as false compliments as Jun Wu's words were false. Sugar syrup could not be completely licked off, it stuck and smeared even more, mixing with saliva. Jun Wu, noticing this, ran his fingers over Shi Wudu's lips, pressing and stroking, and then licked his own fingers.

"Then you should like this too," Jun Wu brought a cup of wine to his lips, and Shi Wudu couldn't help but notice how thin and sweet plum wine smelled - southern plums? – such a sweetness that, probably, yes, those were. And how transparent and golden it seemed among this fragile porcelain. The color, at the same time delicate and saturated, is such that you want to try it at least to make sure that this wine tasted as pleasant as it looked.

Shi Wudu touched the cup with his lips, opened them slightly, waiting for Jun Wu to tilt it so that it would be more convenient to drink. Jun Wu hesitated, as if doubting whether it was worth going straight to the wine, or whether it was possible to occupy his guest with something else, and then he tilted the cup, allowing him to take a sip. Yes, the wine tasted as delicious as it looked when it painted the walls of the bowl in golden tones, and enveloped everything around with a sweet-spicy aroma. Shi Wudu never treated wine as something special - unlike Qingxuan, who adored any wine, and adored drinking it, whether alone or in company – but even he could not help but appreciate the taste. At times, Qingxuan's passion for drinking exceeded all reasonable limits, and when they were still common people, Shi Wudu had a serious quarrel with him several times because of this. He literally dragged him home from some regular tavern, and Qingxuan muttered something incoherent and kept trying to break away and come back.

"Either you stop doing that, or I'll just start locking you in a room when I'm out on business," Shi Wudu's voice sounded harsh, in a way he didn't want at all. But what else was there to do if nothing else worked on Qingxuan, and he only cursed and argued in response to calm requests. Shi Wudu knew, knew too well the reason why Qingxuan allowed himself to get so desperately drunk, but he didn't want to say it out loud. As well as allowing this to continue.

“But, ge, I'm an adult and…”

"You heard what I said," and Shi Wudu angrily slammed the door of the room behind him, going to his room. He thoughtlessly touched the uncomfortable, too unusual sword for him, ran his slightly trembling fingers along the sharpened blade. He must have been a lousy older brother. Perhaps it was worth talking to Qingxuan in some other way. He probably didn't understand him at all. More precisely, he stopped understanding at some point, because they used to get along great.  

The unsolicited memories released him as abruptly as they had rolled in, simply melted like the ice of the northern lakes in the spring, forcing him to return to what was his present.

Jun Wu seemed to read his thoughts about the taste of wine – in any case, satisfaction was clearly reflected in his dark gaze now, he stroked the bowl with his fingers, collecting drops of moisture, and then touched Shi Wudu's lips with his lips. No, it wasn't one of those kisses that turn out to be deep, long, that make you convulsively squeeze someone else's shoulders in your hands and snuggle closer and closer. No, a fleeting touch, barely perceptible, barely marked. So that only to kiss the sweet moisture that remained from the wine. So as not to let Shi Wudu forget why they are here. And that the wine is just an addition – an addition to what was waiting for Shi Wudu next.

Reluctantly pulling away from his lips, Jun Wu pulled away, reached for the next wine – transparent, smelling sour and cool. Northern plums? The liquid splashed into the bowl, but contrary to Shi Wudu's expectations, Jun Wu brought it to his own, not to his mouth. He took a few sips, but did not drink, and again pressed his lips to Shi Wudu's lips and ordered mentally:

“Open your mouth.”

Shi Wudu obeyed, feeling the wine flowing smoothly from Jun Wu's mouth into his, how their lips were connected so tightly that not a single drop spilled on their clothes, did not fall on the silk pillows that were lying in disarray around them. This kiss, unlike the previous one, turned out to be deep, endless, their saliva mixed with wine, and the wine seemed woven from snow and the cold of the northern winter. Shi Wudu tasted the kiss – and tasted the wine, and felt that arousal, still distant and unexpressed, was beginning to cover him as well. He did not resist – it would be easier to accept intimacy with Jun Wu, it would be more convenient for both of them. Shi Wudu deliberately rubbed his groin against Jun Wu's groin, letting him feel that he was also aroused, that he also liked what was being done to him, and that he was waiting for what would happen next. Shi Wudu snuggled closer and rubbed again, not stopping kissing. He allowed Jun Wu to pull his clothes off his shoulders, allowed him to squeeze his bare skin roughly and impatiently, responding in kind.

            Jun Wu didn't stand on ceremony with him too much – his caresses were rough, his touches were impatient, there were marks on the skin. And all these marks Shi Wudu was not allowed to heal with potions, which would allow him to get rid of them quickly, almost immediately, so that there would not be the slightest reminder of the time spent with Jun Wu. Apparently, this was the reason why he was forbidden to do this – Jun Wu liked to know that his power and his aura remained on Shi Wudu, even when they are not together, even when Shi Wudu was busy with completely different things, even when he descended into common people world, and turned out to be so far away from Heavens, as far as possible.

            But this time, Jun Wu, for some reason known to him alone, decided to weave more sensual and unhurried touches into these harsh caresses. He ran his fingers over Shi Wudu's unbuttoned collar, ran over the congealed blood, tracing each uneven spot, each spreading drop. The dark satisfaction that flashed across his face was more eloquent than any words, and it became clear that there was no need to resist what he was doing, because it gave him real pleasure, brought what he was striving for. After thoroughly enjoying the bloodstains, Jun Wu moved on to the silver embroidery that adorned Shi Wudu's collar, stroked it, studying it.

"What a fine job," he remarked knowingly. “Or maybe I should give you clothes in my colors as well?”

Gold instead of silver, scarlet instead of blue. Shi Wudu tried to imagine himself in such clothes, but the image did not want to take shape, slipped away like lake water through his fingers. The colors of the clothes didn't really matter – and at the same time they meant a lot, so much that he was sure it wouldn't go unnoticed. How stupid and pathetic it was on the part of other gods to so openly wish to be in his place, to envy him for his connection with Jun Wu. If only this rabble knew, if only they guessed what this favor and this attention from Heavenly Emperor cost him.

"As Emperor wills," he bowed his head slightly, so that the disheveled strands fell over his shoulders, covering them, and Jun Wu impatiently pushed them back behind Shi Wudu's back.

And then Jun Wu lowered his clothes even lower from his shoulders, so as to give more access to the naked skin, to the hardened nipples and collarbones of Shi Wudu. And suddenly, instead of continuing the caresses, he reached for the empty cup, refilled it with wine – Shi Wudu did not have time to notice which one. Warmth and sweetness, reminiscent of the heat of summer and dusty, dryish grasses or bitter cold, what makes you think about snowfalls and ice over the water? He was waiting for another kiss, waiting for the wine to fill his mouth with its rich taste again. But instead, Jun Wu held the cup to his skin, looked at him expectantly, and spilled a few tiny drops on his shoulders. They smoothly flowed down, leaving wet traces on the skin, ran over the nipples, making Shi Wudu shudder, went even lower.

It didn't feel unpleasant, rather unusual. Shi Wudu froze in anticipation of what would follow, his arousal was felt more and more clearly, he was trembling slightly from the sticky moisture that left the wine on him. Jun Wu's tongue on his nipples made Shi Wudu moan for the first time that evening. More and more, wet, insistent touches that made his nipples harden even more, and arousal swept through his body in a wave. Now everything was as it should be, now his body was getting enough pleasure to allow him not to think about anything. He always waited for this moment, always wanted it, so that he could only do, but not think, only obey, but not want something else.

Jun Wu poured more wine on his skin – and licked, slowly, drop by drop, passing his tongue over the nipples that had become so sensitive, circling them, teasing and making Shi Wudu arch in his hands. He squeezed Shi Wudu's arousal under his clothes, making it clear that he knew he is satisfied. But then he almost immediately removed his hand, making it clear that it was not yet time, that while they would continue what they were doing, that it was no less desirable than taking him on the bed or right on the floor. At some point, Jun Wu did not just lick, but bit his nipple, and Shi Wudu screamed, throwing his head back, clinging to Jun Wu’s shoulders, as if there was no other support left for him, as if he did not need another support. Jun Wu bit his nipples again and again, and the pain mixed with pleasure, added desirability to the sensations, made him moan louder and more openly. Snuggle closer and closer. And to want more and more.

"Get undressed," Jun Wu ordered at one point. And it sounded like through a dense layer of fog, as if from somewhere far away, so that it was impossible to understand, in reality, or he just imagined it. Shi Wudu never lost himself during their intimacy, never allowed lust to obscure his mind so much as to get lost in sensations, to forget for a moment why he was doing this. But now Jun Wu's words took him by surprise, he involuntarily shuddered at the sound of his voice, and slowly, as if in a dream, reached for the disordered clothes.

Shi Wudu never knew what Jun Wu preferred – for him to undress slowly, smoothly, getting rid of one thing after another with exaggerated unhurriedness. Allowing him to see every detail – the silver embroidery on the collar, bluish stones and silk threads on the belt pendants, the snow-white fabric of inner robes. Or, on the contrary, quickly and impatiently, throwing things around, crumpling them, not even bothering to bring at least some relative order. Shi Wudu did not know this, but this time he preferred the second option, since Jun Wu did not stop him. The movements were abrupt, careless, but arousal was already beginning to cover him completely, and he did not want to waste a moment. He jerked at all these ties and pendants, all these useless clasps, without worrying at all about what might spoil the pliable silk and silvery sewing in the twilight. His fingers slid over the bluish stones of the belt, and Shi Wudu pulled it off, threw it aside like some cheap, dilapidated rag, unworthy of other treatment. Inner robes lay over the trousers – the thin fabric was all crumpled and resembled snow that melts under the rays of the sun, which so readily succumbs to the warmth that has come. Out of the corner of his mind, Shi Wudu noticed a vague, ink stain on his sleeve – he probably put it on that time when he stayed up late for scrolls, although he originally intended to go for a little rest. And now this ink stain spoiled the snow-white perfection, attracted attention, like any imperfection.

Shi Wudu forced himself to turn away from the spreading ink and appeared completely naked in front of Jun Wu, waiting for him to order him further – sometimes he undressed himself, sometimes not, sometimes he did not undress at all, finding other opportunities to have pleasure. So this time he stayed on the floor, not even trying to start undressing. And Shi Wudu just returned to his lap. Straddling his hips, slightly squeezing them, he shifted again, noting with surprise that the fabric of Jun Wu's clothes felt rougher than it seemed, than it should have been when it came to Heavenly Emperor.

Jun Wu's dark gaze was full of lust and desire when, without hiding at all, he looked at Shi Wudu's naked body, touched it the way he wanted – circled the nipples with slightly moist fingers, squeezed the buttocks in his palms, slightly pressing, pushing them apart, spreading them apart, but not yet doing anything else, without trying to penetrate it with his fingers, as he usually did. Jun Wu's palm rested on Shi Wudu's aroused cock again, but now not through his clothes, now like this, squeezing the length, passing over the skin. He collected the protruding precum with his fingers, not wiping it, just admiring the transparent stickiness that stained his fingers. Every movement of his palm on cock made Shi Wudu shudder and moan with pleasure, he knew that this was not what was waiting for him, that Jun Wu was only teasing him with his skillful touches, that it would soon stop, and he would continue to languish from arousal that had rolled over.

It turned out like that precisely.

Jun Wu, without hiding at all, wiped his soiled fingers on his own clothes – continuing to hold Shi Wudu by the waist with his other hand, pressing him to himself. And then he just touched Shi Wudu's lips with the fingers of his other hand, held them, slightly pressing. He didn't say a word, didn't say anything, didn't order, but it was clear what he wanted. Shi Wudu opened his mouth slightly, at first barely, and then wider, so as to give access to himself. Probably, if he could, he would have forced Jun Wu to hurry up, forced him to do all this with him as soon as possible, but he understood too clearly that he had no right to do this. Because they weren't close people. And they weren't even lovers. Or rather, they were lovers, but not in the way which he could demand something or ask for something.

Jun Wu, meanwhile, pushed his fingers into Shi Wudu’s mouth, several at once, not caring at all how it felt. Shi Wudu swallowed hard, trying to take those insistent fingers as deep as possible, so as to let them fully feel all the hot moisture of his mouth. Jun Wu never let him just lick his fingers, no, he penetrated them as deeply as he could, and Shi Wudu barely managed to hide how difficult it was for him. He was not used to such things, it was too much for him, it was uncomfortable for him, and every time he had to force himself to relax and start doing what was expected of him.

And now Shi Wudu somehow coped with the spasm that rolled up to his throat and began diligently licking the fingers that penetrated him so ruthlessly and impatiently. He touched them with his tongue – Jun Wu’s skin turned out to be cool, bitter, not at all what one would expect from someone who is aroused and wants more. He pressed his lips together a little, trying to smear the saliva as thoroughly as possible, so that it would be easier for him to take these fingers into himself later, let them slide inside without resistance. He licked and sucked those thin, elegant fingers, and made them more slippery and wet. And he felt them unceremoniously pushing into his mouth, forcing him to open it even wider.

Saliva flowed down his chin, Shi Wudu felt it leaving a wet path on his skin, dripping lower, tracing its way to his shoulder and descending to his hips. And then again and again, the saliva continued to flow, profusely and obscenely, but he could not do anything about it – neither close his mouth, nor ask to be allowed to wipe it, and then continue. He couldn't do anything about it, only shuddered a little every time the wet drops touched the naked skin. And he only knew that he needed to be patient a little more, that soon Jun Wu would continue – he would take his fingers out of his mouth, dirtying everything around with saliva even more, look at them with a look in which lust would mix with impatience, and tell him what to do next.

This time, Jun Wu penetrated his mouth with his fingers for a particularly long time, so that Shi Wudu lost track of time and found himself all smeared with his own saliva and his own precum, which managed to stand out again after Jun Wu collected it all. But then Jun Wu still moved away, looking at the wet fingers with interest. It was as if he was assessing whether this was enough or to force Shi Wudu to continue. But, apparently satisfied with the result, he said briefly:

“Get up.”

Shi Wudu obeyed immediately, he himself had wanted more for a long time, his body demanded more than fleeting palm touches to cock, than skillful fingers collecting sweat and precum from his cock. He had to lean forward, convulsively clench his hands on Jun Wu's shoulders and almost bury his face in his neck. The fabric of his clothes felt rough, as before, and from its touch, Shi Wudu's nipples tightened, shifted on this stiffness, only adding sensitivity. He involuntarily groaned, wanting at the same time to prolong this feeling from the stiff fabric as long as possible and get rid of it as soon as possible, because he was already too aroused, and wanted so much that he almost didn't think about with who and why he was doing it. Almost.

Jun Wu's palms rested on his buttocks, began to stroke and squeeze, and Shi Wudu knew that now it was no longer for the sake of teasing him, now they got to why he was here. Jun Wu’s fingers slid wetly over the skin, smeared in saliva and precum, sticky touches that made Shi Wudu shudder with each of them, and he could not determine what was more in this trembling, anticipation or unwillingness. However, his own arousal did not go away, and Shi Wudu rubbed his nipples against Jun Wu's stiff clothes again, wanting to add sensations to himself.

The golden embroidery of Jun Wu's clothes shimmered in the semi-darkness, and Shi Wudu could not help thinking that such rich and so exquisite clothes were already soaked in their sweat and his saliva. And that it is difficult to imagine Heavenly Emperor in a more inappropriate form. Luxurious snow-white with gold trim clothes at the festivities - and the same clothes now, soiled and crumpled. The contrast between the outer, what other gods were allowed to know, and the inner, what was really hidden in the depths, what constituted the essence and true face of Jun Wu was so weighty that Shi Wudu involuntarily grinned, hiding this grin in the crumpled fabric and stained embroidery of Jun Wu’s clothes.

Jun Wu's fingers penetrated him unexpectedly, sharply, several at once, as before, into his mouth, and Shi Wudu tensed, trying to get used to this feeling of fullness, to how stretched he was. Perhaps if his connections were as numerous and diverse as Pei Ming's, it would be much easier for him to perceive what was required of him. But his experience was not exhausted by so many, and was long-ago, half-forgotten, such that it begins to seem as if all this did not happen to you. And if it's with you, it's somewhere very far away and not for real. And his body was not used to such penetrations, to constant intimacy, to caresses and rudeness, which Jun Wu alternated so willingly. Even just the fingers inside made him uncomfortable, made him squirm on Jun Wu's lap in search of a more comfortable position. He tried to arrange himself so that he could relax, so that he could have pleasure too, but this time for some reason it turned out worse than usual.

His fingers were pushing roughly, insistently, not allowing him to get used to or relax as much as he needed. They stretched it and pushed it again, penetrating so deeply that it was not much different from if there was cock in him, and not fingers. Either guessing, or noticing something, Jun Wu suddenly pushed into him somehow especially deeply, and at the same time squeezed his other palm on his cock, holding up and down with confident, strong movements. All together, it was too much, the sensations became so bright and intense that Shi Wudu was now moaning, not hiding at all, the way they expected him to – and almost in reality felt Jun Wu’s satisfaction.

Jun Wu himself was in no hurry to take off his clothes, and remained in them, and at some point Shi Wudu guessed that he wanted Shi Wudu to cum from his fingers, without another penetration. It would have been easier for him to reach the peak if Jun Wu had touched spot inside him that made him feel pure pleasure, such that moans themselves escaped from his lips, and his body demanded more and more.

But Jun Wu deliberately did not touch this spot, deliberately inserted his fingers deeply, roughly – but did not touch. But arousal did not go away, and Shi Wudu at some point caught himself thinking that he was close to starting to moan discontentedly, not hiding his feelings. But to find out whether he would have done it or not, despite possible dissatisfaction with him, he did not succeed – Jun Wu took his fingers out of him altogether, sensitively touching the stretched entrance with them, and removed his palm from cock. As if he guessed Shi Wudu's thoughts. Although, rather, he did not guess, but he already knew, and he knew well, having had time to study how and to what Shi Wudu reacts, which touches are especially pleasant to him, and which on the contrary dull the desire, to which caresses he responds especially willingly, and what leaves him indifferent. On the one hand, it was convenient – no one had ever given him as much pleasure as Jun Wu had given him with his skillful touches before. On the other hand, no, because teasing like this, as he was doing now, only inflaming Shi Wudu more and more, but not allowing him to achieve the peak, he could also do, and he did.

And in the next moment, Jun Wu squeezed his chin in his hand, lifted him by it, and began to kiss him, long and deep. And the taste of his saliva, cool and bitter, mixed with the taste of plum wine, its sour, snowy notes that remained after their divided sips. The taste of winter and snow, which suited Jun Wu himself so well that it seemed that his snow-white clothes were also woven from long, cold-shrouded snowfalls, and thin ice, like the taste of these plums, like the taste of their kisses.

Jun Wu continued to kiss him, and with his other palm he stroked his buttocks every now and then, squeezed the supple skin, spread them – just a little, not as it was necessary for penetration, but as it was enough to add sensations. His fingers stroked the stretched entrance with unhurried movements, not trying to get inside, but pressing and reminding them of what they had done recently, and what they would continue to do very soon. And Shi Wudu only restrained himself with an effort of will not to lean back on these fingers, not to push against them, wanting to feel them inside again, their rough, deep thrusts, and how they fill him completely. He was sweating all over, sweat dripped from his face and from his shoulders, his skin became slippery with moisture. Drops of sweat left dark streaks on Jun Wu's clothes, dirtying them even more, creating a mess that reflected what was happening between them, equally obscene and dark.

It seemed to go on endlessly, but then at some point Jun Wu, without further ado, just lifted him up again, forced him to spread his hips wider. And with a short, sharp movement, he penetrated it again with all his fingers, but now he did not avoid touching this sensitive point inside. On the contrary, he pushed it hard, pushed it again and again, deeper and rougher than he had done before. And he pressed again, causing Shi Wudu to scream with pleasure, forgetting about everything. He didn't want to think at that moment, and he didn't want to think when Jun Wu's palm rested on his cock again, began to slide up and down again, collecting sweat and precum.

He came so soon that he did not believe it himself when his seed stained Jun Wu's palm, stained the clothes that had already lost all their exquisite appearance, stained the silk pillows at their feet, violating the perfection of their gold and pendants woven from the finest threads. The seed dripped down his naked skin, making it sticky and dirty, leaving uneven streaks. The excitement subsided, giving way to the emptiness that every time covered him with a dark wave after intimacy with Jun Wu. It could be pleasant to the body, but it did not change his thoughts in any way. And it couldn't change them.

Meanwhile, Jun Wu pulled his clothes that had lost their perfect look from his shoulders, threw them back, reached for a belt studded with sparkling, light stones, decorated with gold and silk. He, too, was aroused, and for a long time – Shi Wudu knew this, felt it with his naked body, sitting on his lap, felt this hardness and pulsating warmth under him. Jun Wu's cock was also dripping with precum, waiting for Shi Wudu body and Shi Wudu touch, clothes no longer hid him, and Shi Wudu was waiting for where Jun Wu would want to take him this time. But he was silent, without uttering a word, did not order either to lie down on the floor, or to get up and go to other rooms, to the bedroom, where they could continue their bed pleasures, or to kneel in front of him so that it would be more convenient to pull his hair, pushing deeply into his mouth.

Shi Wudu did not understand right away, but he understood – this time they would not go anywhere, and he did not need to settle anywhere. There will be no need for other rooms, nor elegant carpets and pillows, nor silk-covered walls. No, they will continue here. As well. And all Jun Wu expected from him was that Shi Wudu himself would sit on his cock.

 

* * *

 

The mirror in his chambers in the Palace of Waters and Winds was drowning in the shadows that filled the room that night. High, framed in light silver, it resembled the smooth surface of the purest lake, whose shores were strewn with the first snow, and covered with thin, silvery ice. Water was always water, and Shi Wudu liked to notice it even in small things, even in those things that had nothing to do with it directly.

But what was reflected in this mirror... Shi Wudu grimaced, no longer hiding, looking with disgust at all the marks and traces that Jun Wu had left on him. All those marks and traces that he was not allowed to touch and heal. All those marks and traces that will remain on him until the next meeting with Jun Wu, until he adds more. It wasn't painful, yet he possessed the body of a deity, and such traces didn't bother him at all. But how disgusting it all felt. The dark purple, blurring spots on his neck are what Jun Wu's lips left on him. An uneven, deep scratch near the collarbone is what his hands left on him, squeezing his shoulders too hard. A strange, drawn trail with uneven edges – Shi Wudu tried to figure out what Jun Wu could have done to him to leave such marks, but nothing suitable came to mind. The strange markings seemed vaguely familiar, and Shi Wudu frowned, trying to remember where he had met them before. But he definitely met them somewhere.

Fangs. The marks left by the fangs. He managed to remember almost immediately. And how can he forget that – at that time Pei Ming surpassed himself in the obscenity of what was happening, and went as far as he rarely ever went. Shi Wudu did not know that demoness, but he saw and remembered the traces left by her on Pei Ming's body very well. It was hard not to remember – Pei Ming looked so pleased that Shi Wudu could hardly resist asking if he really needed help, or if he just wanted to continue his bedtime entertainment. The medicinal potion smelled cool and fresh and glided over Pei Ming's heated skin and on his fingers as Shi Wudu was tinkering with these consequences of his stormy night. Why did he have to know such details at all? But somehow every time it turned out by itself that he listened to Pei Ming's stories about his passions, filled with contentment, and helped him with the remaining traces if he asked for it. And although he did not ask for such a thing every time, Shi Wudu still knew much more than he would have liked.

He ran his fingers thoughtfully over these strange traces – rough, deep. And yes, they looked exactly like the marks from the demoness's fangs that were left on Pei Ming. But how is this possible? Fangs are a feature of demons, not gods. Like a dark, cold aura, like a distorted spiritual force that was received by bright emotions and obeyed them, and was not available only if you had enough followers. Shi Wudu slowly ran his fingers over his neck once more, and then lifted the collar higher and wrapped it as tightly as possible.

Chapter 7

His desk, littered with various scrolls, almost disappeared under them, so that only the corner itself was visible – light wood, decorated with fine carvings and pearl. The scrolls that filled everything differed from one another as significantly as the waters of a shallow river hiding among thickets of reeds differed from the clear, icy waters of the sea that rolls ashore with all its inevitability in a particularly strong storm. Quite small – and quite voluminous, richly gilded with silk pendants – and simple, unremarkable, written clearly in a hurry, careless handwriting – and inscribed with neat, ornate hieroglyphs.

The scrolls were very different, but prayers in them all coincided. And they coincided so strangely that Shi Wudu once again settled down on the floor near the table hidden under all these countless scrolls and tried to sort out what was written again.

Jun Wu had not invited him to his place for quite some time, and Shi Wudu, thinking about it, only smiled wryly. It seemed that Jun Wu was fed up with him, completely satisfied with him and too much after the time when they spent the whole evening and the whole night in bed. When Shi Wudu moved on his cock, rising and falling with effort, breathing heavily and raggedly. When they were both covered in sweat, and their wet, naked skin was rubbing and sliding, and there was no distance between them.

At the thought of the time spent with Jun Wu, Shi Wudu involuntarily touched the collar of his clothes – other than the one stained with his own blood, dyed scarlet. Other, but with the same silver embroidery of waves, and made of the same snow-white silk. The marks and traces that Jun Wu had so generously left on him were almost gone, lingering, hiding what was happening between them behind the tightly drawn curtains and securely locked doors of Jun Wu's chambers. Hiding what burdened and tormented Shi Wudu whenever he inadvertently touched these marks, when he noticed them on himself, when he knew that they were still darkening on his skin and would not go anywhere. But this time Jun Wu did not touch him for so long that there were almost no disgusting traces and bruises left, only a pale, faded blue, almost imperceptible and not interfering in any way. Although Shi Wudu did not try to do anything with these traces, following their original agreement, he did not try to apply a tart-smelling potion or take the tincture intended for this. No, he didn't do anything, but the traces faded, erased, and it was hard to even think about how pleasant it would be.

Shi Wudu didn't want to think about Jun Wu longer than necessary, just as he didn't want to remember the time spent with him, just as he didn't even want to imagine when he would receive the disgusting invitation scroll again, when he would hear this mocking, whispering right in his ear – Water Master. And he reached for one of the scrolls on the table, preferring to do business.

However, as soon as he touched the thick rice paper, barely threw aside the golden pendant that was trying to fall on the written sheets and cover them with itself, when he felt a sharp chill at his temple – someone wanted to contact him through Private spiritual communication array. There was an unpleasant ache inside, and no matter how hard Shi Wudu tried to calm this feeling, no matter how hard he tried to remain indifferent, he could not do anything. He never knew how to deceive himself. He have never been able to hide from himself what he would not have been able to hide with all his desire. Shi Wudu slowly, as if doubting, brought his fingers to his temple, touched it, feeling this icy cold of call under his fingers too. Feeling how an invisible connection is being stretched, how his spiritual power merges with someone else's spiritual power to bring him something that he wanted to get rid of as much as it was hopeless.

Ling Wen. Not Jun Wu, no, not his habitual spiritual power that exuded the cold of winter, filled with snow and shrouded in ice. No, the golden haze of Ling Wen's spiritual power, which Shi Wudu did not immediately feel, absorbed in his thoughts, which he did not even dare to imagine.

“What, another one?” he asked right away, guessing why Ling Wen could contact him, and what she could tell him. Shi Wudu turned the scroll in his hands, which he had been reading a little earlier, before he felt someone else's spiritual power reaching out to him. He touched the golden pendant thoughtfully, feeling the softness of rare silk under his fingers, traced the hieroglyphs, drawing uneven, sinuous lines, repeating what he had written. As if it was easier to sort out what was happening, to understand what was behind these neat, elegantly written words.

"Not one, but several," Ling Wen seemed not at all surprised that Shi Wudu immediately guessed what was going to be discussed. “Can I assume that's what you're doing right now?” she chuckled knowingly. And although Shi Wudu could only imagine, but not know for sure, her expression at that moment, he was sure that Ling Wen was grinning – fleetingly, barely noticeably. The way people who have known each other closely for a long time always do, who do not need extra words to know, to be sure of what each of them is doing at this time. “Do you need to have another scroll with my junior officials, or are these enough?” she clarified, simultaneously distracted by someone else, which could be heard even on Spiritual communication array. Probably, just at one of her junior officials - Shi Wudu did not really understand the words, but from her tone – puzzled, filled with bewilderment, one could guess that junior officials either mixed up the scrolls again, or managed to lose some important records, or both at the same time.

"That's what I'm doing," Shi Wudu confirmed, putting the ornate scroll aside and instead touching and fingering the silver embroidery of colar. A habit that has appeared recently, but has already managed to bore him to the point of impossibility. He abruptly withdrew his hand, as if even a fleeting touch to the clothes was a burden to him, as if he did not want to allow himself such weaknesses even for a moment. “Is there anything new in these prayers?” he asked, frowning and glancing at the already littered table with scrolls, which had not happened in his room for many years. Or rather, it never happened at all, if to think about it seriously.

“Nothing new. Except for some details," Shi Wudu heard a barely discernible rustle of paper and a melodious tinkling, as if the new scrolls were decorated with tiny gold pendants, and the appeals contained in them belonged to people who were clearly not poor. Ling Wen sometimes knew the contents of all incoming prayers almost by heart. And certainly much better than most of gods, whom these prayers directly concerned. And now she didn't even have to reread the scrolls to immediately remember that there was nothing special in them. Something that might suggest something worth paying attention to.

"Then send them when it will be possible," Shi Wudu did not rush her. He already had something to think about, and knowing Ling Wen's busy schedule, he would only distract her from other, equally important matters if he wanted to receive these scrolls immediately. He never sought to take advantage of someone more than his own affairs required, and never expected that others would do something for him that was not so necessary. Unnecessary. Just unnecessary.

"Whatever you say," Ling Wen simply agreed and was the first to end the conversation. Shi Wudu felt their combined spiritual power thinning and melting. How the golden haze of Ling Wen's spiritual power settled into a weightless mist, and how his own spiritual power fell like the icy waves of a storm that has ended.

He reached for the scrolls that filled the table again, but then stopped, thinking, deciding that he had read enough. And it is unlikely that he will be able to notice something new, unnoticed before among these hieroglyphs so unlike each other – written both carelessly, and neatly, and not too smoothly, but with obvious diligence. And he would not have attached any importance to these prayers, sending junior officials to sort out, if not for some details. If all these prayers were not from the small town where he once lived with Qingxuan and his parents. In which once everything was simple and cloudless, so that now it was impossible to believe it. In which something happened that happened, something that changed everything, and left him no choice. A town he would rather forget. But that suddenly reminded of itself after so many infinitely long years.

And if it wasn't for this knowledge, he wouldn't be surprised at anything at all.

But Shi Wudu knew, knew this town too well, although he did not want, did not want either this knowledge or these memories, gloomy as muddy, stagnant water in a shallow lake. All of these prayers talked about the same thing, they all contained stories about this and that and were filled with requests for this and the same. Somewhere the words were colorfully and ornately intertwined into a story filled with many details, somewhere they were written sparingly and dryly, so as to convey only the very essence. But they all agreed in their own sense.

Floods.

The unrestrained streams of water that covered the town, bringing with them losses for merchants, eroding roads and collapsing houses, flooded everything around, not allowing either to get out of the town, or to somehow protect themselves from them. And there would be nothing unusual about the floods themselves if Shi Wudu did not remember that river that flowed through the whole town in a winding stream, and disappeared among the hills and greenery in the distance. An unremarkable, tiny river, whose banks were strewn with light pebbles and lost in the thick grass.

The river, whose waters closed over these very light pebbles with a quiet splash, if you throw them as far as possible, almost to the opposite bank, competing with Qingxuan in accuracy. And then for a long time to feel the warmth from the sun-warmed pebble in your hands and listen, hiding a smile, as Qingxuan sulks, having lost to him once again. However, in some places the waters of this river were dark and deep. And the ice streams rising from the bottom swirled into small whirlpools, disturbing the sleepy, stagnant water. But this was not enough, it was negligible enough for the river to overflow its banks, flooding the town and flooding streets and houses, so that its waters, quiet and unhurried, suddenly hit the town with such fury that it could be compared to a winter storm in the cold, northern seas. Not enough. Shi Wudu was sure of that.

He would still doubt if it was spring, and the snows that generously covered the city would merge with the waters of the river, filling and spurring it. But no, autumn, warm and sunny, still gilded the scrolls scattered on the table with dim rays of the sun, reminded of itself with a damp, sweet smell of withered grass and flying leaves, painted everything around in colors, bright and faded at the same time. And at this time of year, there was absolutely nothing for the river to overflow from.

And in general, as far as Shi Wudu remembered, floods had not happened in this town for many years. Otherwise, stories about this would be heard in the whispers of residents in the main square, in fragments of the words of merchants filled with trepidation and discontent, in those stories that they tell each other to pass the time in the tavern, when the maids in this very tavern turned out to be not too young and pretty, and the wine is not particularly strong and quite sour, and you wanted to discuss something. But no one has told or even mentioned anything like this. And this only meant that there was nothing to tell and mention. Since the residents of this – and any other small town – have never had any problems with talkativeness.

And it turned out that it was up to him to go down and figure it out himself. Since something strange and unusual was happening, something completely inexplicable and wrong, and junior officials probably won't be of any use, but rather, they will also spoil everything that can be spoiled without knowing anything. Or, in addition, they will alarm the locals by sharing their guesses and assumptions with them, one is more ridiculous than the other. Shi Wudu knew all too well where the boundaries of other people's capabilities and skills stretched. Too often he have come across the fact that tasks that are a little more complicated than the usual ones are better to do himself. That junior officials, even the most intelligent ones, were only fit to deal with scrolls and papers, delve into boring details of prayers and records, and only a little, very slightly, directly interact with water. Water was Shi Wudu's essence and element, not theirs. The water obeyed him. The water was one with him. He just had to touch the water to feel it, its depth and power, its possibilities, and the living beings and spirits that dwelled in its depths.

He didn't want to return to this town, which harbored so many memories, at all. But there was no option to count on others, and Shi Wudu reluctantly got up, thinking that he would need to deal with all these scrolls on his return. And then there was no room left on the table even to sketch out records of these prayers. Well, when he manages to fulfill them. And in general, he was not used to having such a mess in his rooms. It was Qingxuan who loved to throw things around, throw clothes around as if he always dressed in an incredible hurry, create such piles of scrolls that it seemed like he was doing anything but prayers. Shi Wudu constantly cursed and argued with him about this, but Qingxuan only waved off with a frivolous "Later, ge" and continued to do it his own way. Perhaps this was one of the few things in which Shi Wudu never managed to influence him, and he preferred to simply ignore it if possible.

Carefully drawing Distance Shortening Array right on the floor of his room – this time it will be more convenient to get there – Shi Wudu involuntarily grabbed the collar of his clothes again, squeezed it in his hands, as if the silver embroidery could turn scarlet again, stained with his own blood, as if nothing had changed, and if he take his fingers away, they will be sticky and wet with blood again, and the light silver of the embroidery will be darkened and hopelessly spoiled. Catching himself on this once again, Shi Wudu recoiled from the intertwining golden compression lines of Distance Shortening Array and slowly, as in a dream, lowered his hand. With an effort of will, he forced himself to return to the interrupted work, to return to these smooth, verified lines, to return to this incomprehensible task, to the town, to the river. And don't think, don't think, don't think.

He didn't check to see if dark drops of blood were dripping from his fingers. 

 

* * *

 

The town greeted him with the noise of the streets, in which fragments of conversations were interwoven, ringing laughter somewhere in the distance, the cries of merchants who invited local residents and visiting travelers to taste all kinds of sweets or buy a variety of little things. In fact, all such cities, towns, villages were exactly the same – the same conversations, the same entertainment, the same stalls filled with the same goods, food, and booze. Details changed, little things – snow-covered, chilly cities in the north, with their transparent lakes that were silvered with ice in winter, and dusty, summer-shrouded villages in the south that tart smelled of ripening plums and herbs dry from the heat. Luxurious houses decorated with fine carvings, scarlet ribbons and gold shining in the sun in richer cities – and dilapidated, cramped shacks in villages lost among mountains and hills. It was different, sometimes very significantly. But the essence has always remained the same.

The road to the river lay just through the stalls, colorful and bustling, with their incessant ringing of coins and appetizing aromas floating everywhere. Shi Wudu was looking thoughtfully at the bluish surface of the river, visible a little further away among the trees that bent low to the water, when his attention was attracted by some vaguely familiar smell. A smell that reminded of something long ago, long forgotten, but one that gives off a feeling of warmth and joy. About something that was once important and necessary, was part of everyday life and part of something special at the same time. Part of that other life, when he was still common person.

Moon cakes.

Shi Wudu noticed them almost as soon as he felt this sweet, slightly cloying smell, slightly smelling of caramel and overripe fruits. Smooth, rounded, they invitingly lay in a neat pile with melted sugar and slightly crushed dough. Only now they no longer evoked the joyful anticipation of Mid-Autumn Festival, as it used to happen before, as he remembered, and therefore even the smell still seemed cozy and welcome.

But now the Mid-Autumn Festival meant something completely different for him, not at all what he wanted, not at all what the spicy aroma that enveloped him reminded him of. Now the approach of this day meant only that he would have to go to this celebration, filled with luxury and falsehood in the same verified amount, in that distorted correctness that was inherent in so many things in Heaven. He would gladly not have gone anywhere, would not have gone to listen to these pompous speeches, admire this table bursting with the most exquisite dishes and be bored with all this false virtue to infinity. He would not have gone, as he did not come many times before, when the moon of this festival, drowned in icy streams, or in deep lakes or silvery, hazy ponds, seemed immeasurably more suitable for admiring it than the huge and lazy one that floated into the sky close to the table filled with dishes, so close that it seemed you could touch it.

He would have allowed himself to do it, as he always did, and no one would have dared to object. No one but Heavenly Emperor. And there was no doubt that Jun Wu would not like his absence. Shi Wudu grimaced, thinking about it, his hands involuntarily reached for the silver embroidery of the collar again, but this time he managed to pull himself back even before his fingers touched the crumpled fabric. Jun Wu will still call him if he notices his absence. That's not why he started all this, he didn't do all the things he did with Shi Wudu, just to let him continue doing just what he wants. And the most disgusting thing was that Shi Wudu was almost sure, almost knew for sure that something was waiting for him at this celebration, that perhaps even their bed joys, which left so many marks and traces on him, would not seem so unpleasant to him. Because at the festival, everything that Jun Wu wants to do with him will instantly become the property of others present, everyone you can meet in Heaven, everyone from gods who almost fell into oblivion, to those whose influence and splendor were comparable to the influence of Shi Wudu himself. He tried to discard these thoughts, tried to habitually not think about what to think about while there was still no point, but all these images, all these possible events were so intrusive, so real, so disgusting that he could not help but think about them.

So, he will have to go to the Mid-Autumn Festival. Go and listen to tiresomely insincere compliments all evening, answer tiresomely monotonous questions and maintain tiresomely boring conversations. Just the thought of it made him constantly frown and bite his lip. And unconsciously touch the fan hidden in the sleeve, feel how the pendant glides over the fingers with the coolness of silk, and how the snow-white links respond to his touch.

Last time, Jun Wu suddenly became interested in his fan for some reason, looked at Shi Wudu questioningly while he was trying to recover among the pillows and their clothes scattered on the floor. Shi Wudu nodded silently, allowing – he had no strength left for anything else, he was sleepy after such a long night spent with Jun Wu in his chambers, he could not concentrate even on the simplest things, and for some reason his hands began to freeze again, although the room was warm. Jun Wu stared at his fan for a long time, touching it carefully, studying it, as if trying to understand something for himself. And, apparently, he understood – he put the fan aside and nodded to himself with satisfaction, either calculating something, or trying to determine. Shi Wudu did not ask about anything – it was not so important, and in general it was pointless, Jun Wu would not have answered him anything. Unless he decided to share it himself, but then Shi Wudu wouldn't have to ask. And Shi Wudu just as silently took the fan back, arranged it next to him on the crumpled carpet, and did not find the strength to get up and start dressing.

Behind all these uninvited thoughts, Shi Wudu did not notice how he found himself outside the town, but not far from it. At the place where the river made a curving turn, leaving narrow, dusty streets a little further and behind, roofs of houses gleaming wetly after the recent rain and noisy rows of stalls filled with appetizing smells. It was easier and safer to understand what causes floods, away from a lot of curious glances and unnecessary questions. And it was possible to be sure that someone would definitely want to ask him what he was going to do, or out of idle curiosity to settle down next to him on the shore while he was trying to figure out what was wrong with the water, knowing the locals. And if you take an invisible form for common people, then many will be even more interested in the waves that came from nowhere on the river, spray flying in all directions, or whatever else he will have to do to get to the bottom of what is happening.

In this place, the river no longer seemed as shallow, quiet and unhurried as in the town. Here its shores are overgrown with thick, tall grasses, already slightly touched by the approaching autumn and coolness, but still as lush and dark green, hiding the shores and the water's edge in the thickets. Here its current, as if waking up from a dream, flowed and rustled, unrestrained, rolled over the rocky rapids in a continuous stream, spraying snow-white foam in all directions and now and then twisting into small whirlpools.

The shores seemed swampy and unreliable, washed away by water and rain, but Shi Wudu knew from his childhood that it was quite possible to walk along them if he got out here unnoticed by others, where the town ends. And that here you can find not only small, light pebbles, which were covered with the banks of the river in the city, but also others, larger, bizarre, unusual shapes and surprisingly bright colors. One of them, dark blue, with deep turquoise streaks on the surface, was still lying in his room, hidden from everyone, until he and Qingxuan had to leave this town. To leave, leaving behind the quarreling relatives, the house that has become so strange and everything that they are both used to, and that has been their daily routine for many years.

And yet, despite the riot of greenery and water flows, even this was not enough to cause such floods there.

Chapter 8

Shi Wudu, after thinking a little and concentrating, pulled a fan out of his sleeve, opened it slowly and carefully, and then waved several times over the hurrying waters of the river. The spiritual power that made up the essence of the fan flowed gently and smoothly, and the waters of the river almost immediately responded to the call, responded to the power that was one with them, that was the same as them. The silvery surface rose in small waves, rushed forward even more willingly, even faster. Shi Wudu waved a couple more times, and transparent drops of river water soared into the air, hung in it for a moment, and then fell down, crumbling into a weightless haze.

Of course, it was possible to continue trying, but this was more than enough to say with certainty that there were no dark curses or any subordinating spells on this water. Otherwise, the waters of the river would not have responded to the movements of his fan, otherwise the water would have resisted him, trying to knock the fan out of his hands or drench him with high waves spilling onto the shore. Nothing of the kind happened, on the contrary, the river obeyed implicitly, the river followed his every gesture, flowed in time with the swaying bluish pendant and the softly rustling links of the fan.

Probably, it was worth being satisfied with this, making sure that no one interfered and did nothing dark and forbidden with the waters of this river, but Shi Wudu was used to performing all his missions carefully and accurately as much as possible. No one would have believed that Water Tyrant, whose nickname spoke for itself, actually did not try to push most of the appeals to junior officials at all. And if he went down himself, he behaved so casually that he did not consider it necessary to do more than a couple of fan strokes, and use some very simple, effortless spell. No, Shi Wudu knew well and felt when something could be entrusted to junior officials, and when it was better to go down himself, and he knew his capabilities well, knew when it was worth being especially careful, and when it was possible to afford a certain negligence. He knew when it was worth using the fan for a long time and slowly, and when it was possible to do without it at all. He knew which seals to fold, and who to turn to for help, if any was needed.

And never, not once, even at the very beginning, when he first ascended, he did not try, even in his thoughts, he did not allow the possibility of evading the fulfillment of prayers. His first missions were both funny and awkward. And it was strange to remember them, although he still remembered so clearly every movement of the fan, still fuzzy and uncertain, every splash of water and the rustle of waves, its part and its essence, every folded seal. Several times he happened to return to the palace soaked through, in clothes stained with river sand and lake mud, with disheveled hair and a collapsed hairstyle. Of course, no one was allowed to catch him like that. Except for Qingxuan, who every time immediately attacked with questions and such sincere curiosity that it was simply impossible not to tell him about what happened on the next mission. And Shi Wudu told, slightly grimacing and trying to shake off the stuck sand, wipe off the mud and trying to find the hairpins tangled in his hair, often also broken.

So now he decided to use all his opportunities, just to make sure, so as not to be surprised later how he did not notice such significant things, and how he could miss what was the essence of mission.

Looking around, Shi Wudu noticed a narrow part of the shore, where the grasses did not grow so abundantly, and the water did not reach the light sand and small, almost transparent pebbles. And he inscribed several seals, whose hieroglyphs were twistingly intertwined with each other, forming a single whole, making up the spell that was able to show whether other spells had been used nearby recently. This spell was not so powerful, and had its limitations, revealing only those spells that were drawn not so long ago, only those that were still felt by the echoes of someone else's spiritual power, settling everywhere like a haze of fog at dawn. Therefore, in most missions, this spell was useless, but now it could well suggest the right thing, because the floods began not so long ago.

But no, still no. Shi Wudu still only felt his own spiritual power flowing around him. Power that filled the fan, making the waves on the back seem almost real, such that at any moment they are ready to crash onto the shore, flood it. Power that felt like the icy waves of a winter sea, barely touching the silver edge of the ice, and flowing coldly and unhurriedly. But nothing else, no other spiritual power, demon or god, was woven into his own spiritual power, did not violate it and did not resist it. And it became clear that no one was trying to influence the river, to subjugate its waters to use for some dark purposes of their own.

Shi Wudu thought for a couple of moments, straightened his sleeves, which were slightly crumpled and wrapped up while he was drawing seals, and stepped closer to the water, as close as possible. He felt all the living creatures that could live in the depths and near the shores, felt those small, silvery fish in the lake - and larger, predatory fish that lurked in the water column, waiting and hiding in search of prey. He felt how the transparent wings of turquoise dragonflies rustle over the water – and how the water skaters glide smoothly over the bluish surface of the lake, then gathering, then running in different directions. And now, focusing on his feelings, Shi Wudu knew and understood the presence of even the most insignificant, even the tiniest creature in the waters of this river. After all, if not dark spells and curses, then the creatures that lived in the river were also able to cause floods for one reason they knew, or even for no reason at all.

But there was no one dangerous or predatory in these unhurried waters – Shi Wudu winced a little in annoyance, this option seemed so tempting, because then it was possible not to continue trying to find out what was happening in this town. And what caused the river to overflow in a way that even the most turbulent and full-flowing rivers do not always overflow, which carry their cool waters from the mountains and hills, absorbing melting snow and the streams that meet.

There was still one more opportunity, and Shi Wudu sank down to the water, brought his open palm to its transparent surface, allowing spiritual power to flow, mixing with the flow of the river, its rapids, its icy springs and its whirlpools, few, but such that they were able to drag to the very bottom. The cause of the floods could be demons of a very low level that could do such things for fun, and those that could do such things with a certain intent. But, no matter how amazing it was, Shi Wudu did not feel demons and spirits either. At least, such as he was able to feel.

But this was already strange, if not almost impossible – the waters of even shallow rivers, even the most overgrown with duckweed and mud lakes, even the most insignificant, barely discernible springs among the dense grasses always harbored at least one of the dark, inanimate creatures. Small water demons, unable to cause serious damage, but quite capable of subjugating water. River spirits that were found among the whirlpools scattering cool spray, and strewed their surface with glowing bluish lights in the night. Barely perceptible, weightless, like a river haze, they, nevertheless, were almost always part of any water, aspired to it and belonged to it.

Shi Wudu did not get up, and remained near the water. He touched the surface thoughtfully, slightly disturbed by his spiritual power, and then opened a fan over it, turning it over to the water with the side on which the waves were inscribed. He didn't like to ask for help, he was used to, too used to doing everything himself and relying only on himself. But apparently it turned out that it would not have been possible to do without help, no matter how much he wanted it. A silent, barely perceptible movement in the depths and silvery reflections among the blue and gray told him that his call had worked. And that those tiny dragons that he felt in the depths responded.

In the next instant, they surfaced right in front of him, spraying river water and twisted, sticky leaves of some plants that occupied the rocky bottom in all directions. Quite small, quite unlike those dragons about which common people composed legends and tales, those dragons that were the embodiment of power, danger and a symbol of the Imperial House. No, these river dragons really turned out to be quite tiny, as Shi Wudu felt them even through a considerable distance and a layer of water, their silver scales glistened wetly in the sun that peeked out among the parted clouds, and curiosity was read in their dark eyes. It seems that for them the call of Shi Wudu was nothing more than another entertainment, which they found in abundance among the scattering of pebbles and thick algae at the bottom.

“What makes the river overflow?” immediately, Shi Wudu addressed them without unnecessary preliminaries, before that, however, considering it appropriate for the occasion to bow his head slightly in a short bow. For a moment, it seemed to him that the dragons responded in kind. Maybe it didn't seem like it, it was difficult to understand them – their movements were so fast and chaotic that the barely perceptible swaying of their fins over the water could mean reciprocal politeness, or it could mean nothing.

They understood his question, no doubt they understood, but it just didn't seem to please them at all. Their movements became restless, as if constrained, and for a moment it seemed to Shi Wudu that they looked at each other, trying to decide whether it was worth telling him the answer to this question, or whether it was better to return to the depths, swim away as far as possible, leaving him to guess what such a strange thing was happening in this town. And this uncertainty only confirmed that the cause of the floods was, and was clearly significant, since its origins caused so much hesitation and doubt in such frivolous creatures.

And yet, after a little more hesitation, the dragons rushed in the opposite direction from where they had appeared before, and this only meant that Shi Wudu had not asked for help in vain. He didn't use it often, no, only in exceptional cases, but this time everything said that it was one of the few ways to find out the truth – and, perhaps, at the same time, the fastest. It was clear that nothing good could be expected, and Shi Wudu immediately opened the fan, intercepted it in his hand more conveniently, so that the snow-white links were immediately enveloped in spiritual power, so that the water sign inscribed on them for a moment turned from ink-black to light blue, responding to his aura and his orders.

And on time, how on time. What flashed in the water column, in its grayish streams, it was difficult to determine at least by someone or something. The fins, consisting of sharp, curved bones, crisscrossing like sharpened swords, the same bony, huge body, shrouded in a dark, icy aura, such that it left no doubt. It smelled musty, rotten ooze, muddy, stagnant water. Heavy, water droplets shot up, leaving deep traces on the light sand of the shores. A water demon. Yes, and a high level, not at all like those small, useless demons that lurked in the murky, river waters, and which Shi Wudu was able to sense.

Probably, this demon lived in one of those deep, dark depressions among the whirlpools, which were not so easy to reach, and which all other creatures avoided. In such a depth, it was possible to hide, and wait, and attack swiftly and suddenly, not giving an opportunity to dodge, not allowing to escape. So as to pierce with their sharp, slightly jagged bones. So as not to let get close in battle. It was hard to believe that this slow, shallow river harbored something so dark and dangerous, something that not only common people, but even the most skilled cultivators could not cope with. And it was not at all surprising that at first no one paid much attention to these strange, inexplicable floods. And did not consider them something special, just a whim of the waters that, obeying their essence, sought to flood everything around them.

The fact that it turned out to be a demon, even if it belonged to the waters, was especially unfortunate. Because it only meant that Shi Wudu would be able to subdue him for a while, but not to defeat him in battle. Still, demons, even water demons, were more related to what Martial Gods were able to cope with, and not Elementals. In any case, demons of such a high level certainly will not become simple, ordinary opponents, and one fan and water cannot cope with them, and Shi Wudu wielded a sword much worse than any of Martial Gods. As he had the opportunity to see more than once, practicing with the same Pei Ming on swords. No, well, Pei Ming, of course, was one of the strongest Martial God, but that didn't change much, because others possessed the art of fighting and handling weapons no worse.

Shi Wudu involuntarily bit his lip, thinking that now he would have to go through Jun Wu to ask for help from one of Martial Gods, and then also go down with him here to the town. To a town that he would have preferred to forget, but remembered in such detail, so clearly, right down to the sweet, vanilla smell of baking on noisy streets, silver bells jingling in the wind and bright, colorful ribbons that decorated the town gates on holidays. And whoever Jun Wu chooses to help him, it will only mean that he will either have to listen to endless silence, or endless dissatisfaction, or endless stupidity. He had enough of those missions that he once had to do more than one. And the impressions of these joint missions were such that it would be better to have no impressions at all.

Except that it was easy and convenient with Pei Ming, he did not ask stupid questions, he did not keep silent contemptuously, he did not try to impress. Joint missions with him were filled with something so familiar, as if they were not on a mission at all, and a dangerous mission, but went down for a walk in a tiny, sleepy village, or having fun together at hot springs, or talking about something insignificant at another celebration, and Pei Ming imperceptibly elbows him under the table in order to show the traces left on him by another passion, and even accompanies all this with obscenely detailed stories on Private spiritual communication array. That's just this time there was no need to count on Pei Ming, Jun Wu would rather go down with him himself, putting aside all his so many and so important things, than let Pei Ming go down with him. Well, based on how Jun Wu reacted to their sword training, and the questions that Pei Ming so carelessly, so recklessly asked during this training.

The thought provoked a wry smile, and Shi Wudu preferred to focus on the water demon and what he could do now, rather than on what he could not influence in any way anyway. And just in time – in the next instant, the demon, whose instinct, whose belonging to the water made him instantly feel the presence of Shi Wudu, fell on him with all his sharp like steel, bones. Or rather, he tried to collapse – Shi Wudu managed to see both the predatory grin of his mouth, and small notches on the bones that would leave wounds much worse than any, even the most sharply honed weapon in the most skillful hands. And the murky darkness around the edges of these bones suggested that they might also exude poison that could, if not kill god like him, then seriously harm for sure.

During these countless years of missions, Shi Wudu had to deal with water demons more than once. Demons that lived in small, ringing streams, lost in thick grasses - and demons that preferred the cold, northern seas, and were themselves shrouded in ice and snow. They were small, almost incapable of anything – and really dangerous, such that they had to turn to Martial Gods, passing on some of prayers to them. And now this experience, all this knowledge and all these encounters with demons allowed Shi Wudu to raise the river water in time, throwing it up in a continuous stream, and to fence himself off from the demon, from his bones aimed at him, which were already ready to plunge into his body, passing through. The movement turned out so abrupt that the fan almost fell out of his hands, but still held on, only the paper links rustled for a moment and the bluish pendant swung.

It was necessary to hurry – Shi Wudu noticed how the demon, enraged by the failed attack, turns around, opens its bony, high fins. Getting ready so that this time it will turn out for sure. But now Shi Wudu did not wait for the demon to approach him again, again try to strike with all its bulk and all its jagged bones. The fan in his hands turned three water lines down again, and Shi Wudu lifted the troubled water up in several streams, so that the demon could not get out of them to delay him for a while. Only for a while, because the spells that allowed him to use water were weak, too weak against demons, and only allowed him to either retreat or use something else, something more effective and appropriate.

Shi Wudu reached for his sword – slowly, hesitantly, now touching the silver hilt, then pulling his hand away again. He involuntarily remembered Pei Ming, his slightly mocking words that Shi Wudu is not bad in defense, but his techniques are no good in attack, he remembered the sword that flew out of his hands, catching golden sparks and reflections of the sun, he remembered all their training, in which the difference in their level was so clearly noticeable. For some reason, he stubbornly wanted to show himself that he was able to cope with a demon, that he did not need Martial Gods and their self-confidence for this. But that would be reckless, so reckless that it would cost not only an unfulfilled mission, but something worse. After all, if he fails, cannot strike the right blow, cannot fully use the sword, then the demon is unlikely to wait until Shi Wudu again takes out and unfolds the fan, and again avoids his sharp bones.

Slowly, still doubting and angry at himself for this, Shi Wudu still forced himself to pull his palm away from the sword and instead, with a barely perceptible movement, folded several seals in a long-remembered, clear sequence.

A magical barrier filled with his spiritual power. He would not be able to cope with this demon, but he was quite capable of pacifying it for a while by closing the river with a magical barrier. This will not be enough for a long time, it will require a huge amount of spiritual power from him, more, much more than he is used to using both for his daily affairs and for completing missions. But this was the only reliable way to restrain the demon, not to let him spill the river any more until Shi Wudu could return here with one of Martial Gods. A bluish glow, invisible to common people, enveloped the river, settled on the water with a weightless haze, saying that he managed to put up a barrier, and managed in time.

But it wasn't enough. The barrier was not only supposed to restrain the water demon, and to restrain it for at least a few days, because Shi Wudu would hardly have been able to return to the river before that time – but also not to interfere with all the other creatures that lived in these waters. Yes, and for people it had to remain invisible, otherwise there would surely have been someone who would have decided to figure out more thoroughly what it is, where it came from, and what would happen if this bluish glow was touched or dived into it. And there were always such excessively curious residents with prosperity in any city, any village. Having encountered such excessive curiosity several times before, when he was just starting to have missions, Shi Wudu considered it best to always install magical barriers as carefully as possible, if they were required. So that later you don't have to listen to the displeasure of Heavenly Emperor after someone once again finds himself inside that barrier and can't get out.

The sequence of seals that was required now was much more complicated and voluminous than those seals that were enough to install the barrier. And Shi Wudu began to remember them – slowly, intently – pouring into each of these seals the icy waves of his spiritual power that trembled and wavered at the tips of his fingers. Fortunately, the river bank remained deserted – Shi Wudu remembered this from the time when he lived here as common person, that few residents of the city got out to the river rapids and dense thickets of grass. After all, there were no streets, no inns, no stalls, only a beach strewn with pebbles and sand and unrestrained streams of water.

Now that he had time to think about what had happened, Shi Wudu no longer doubted that – of course – the floods here were not an accident and a whim of nature. And that – of course – otherwise they could not have arisen at such a strange time of the year and in such a shallow river. But a demon of such a high level could quite suit them, collecting and raising water that obeyed him in the same way as water obeyed Shi Wudu. And it all turned out that the residents who disappeared during these floods did not drown at all and were not carried away by the overflowing streams to the depths, but were at the mercy of this demon, and became its intended victims. It was hard to say whether this demon was doing this for fun, or for food, or whether his level of strength depended on such things, but it didn't matter, because the result of what he did was still the same.

When Shi Wudu finished tinkering with the barrier, it was already completely dark, and the inky-black sky hung over the same dark water, silvering in it with tiny reflections of stars and night lights. The water seemed to blossom from the depths when the creatures that lived in it scattered their lights too – greenish, turquoise, purple. The magic barrier clearly did not interfere with them and they did not feel it, and Shi Wudu nodded to himself with satisfaction – well, it took a lot of time, but, in any case, there was no need to worry about the result and the out of place curious residents of the town.

It was worth returning as soon as possible and immediately asking Jun Wu for a meeting in order to complete this mission, and Shi Wudu retreated a few steps from the water, mockingly thinking that, most likely, he would not need any scroll with impenetrably polite words inscribed on it to solve his question. Jun Wu had not told him to come to his palace for a surprisingly long time, so long that Shi Wudu had little doubt that as soon as he returned to the palace, another cursed scroll with mockingly ornate phrases written in deliberately elegant handwriting on rice paper would be waiting for him. Or even one of Jun Wu's junior officials with his detached words that Heavenly Emperor has been waiting for him for a long time and hopes for an early meeting. All this was equally disgusting, and Shi Wudu involuntarily grimaced, imagining all this in advance and starting to draw Distance Shortening Array on the pliable river sand that littered the shore.

 

* * *

 

Shi Wudu did not doubt for a moment that Jun Wu's next invitation was waiting for him when he returned to the palace, but it turned out to be completely different. He stared at the low table for a long time, and littered with scrolls with prayers, but only them, still only them and nothing else. A scroll in exquisite gold and expensive rice paper, a scroll decorated with the symbol of Heavenly Emperor. What he had expected to find here, amid the mess he had made - and what he had not found. Oil lamps cast golden reflections and bizarre, grayish shadows on the scrolls, on the hieroglyphs inscribed on them, on the fine carvings that decorated the table. And nothing else. It was so strange that Shi Wudu simply could not believe it for a few moments, it seemed to him that he simply did not notice, did not pay attention to the right scroll, that he was just tired and had spent too much spiritual power, and if he concentrated… He even pushed aside a few scrolls that were located on the very edge of the table, and only then withdrew his palms, as if suddenly realizing how ridiculous and senseless what he was doing.

And his junior officials only habitually bowed in silent greeting, meeting him at the gate. And also – nothing more. Shi Wudu did not ask, did not say it out loud, did not wonder – no matter how stupid most of them were, even they could not forget to tell him about the invitation of Heavenly Emperor. And not at all because they could be relied on for anything, but because of all these rumors and gossip, which - Shi Wudu was also sure of this - they listened with pleasure and shared them with no less pleasure. Perhaps it was worth stopping it, but this way he would only further confirm the veracity of these rumors, and only add details for speculation.

After a bit of hesitation, Shi Wudu sank down by the table, found with some difficulty blank sheets among this involuntarily arisen mess, and thoughtfully pressed the writing brush to his cheek before writing to Heavenly Emperor a request for a meeting. It was worth hurrying – the magic barrier took away too much spiritual power, Shi Wudu already felt their lack, felt how rapidly they were melting away, like the ice of mountain lakes in spring, as fatigue, so unusual for gods, covers him completely, making his fingers so disobedient, and thoughts strange. But everything inside him resisted it, everything felt as if he was going to ask for a meeting not at all because of mission, but because he lacked it - to be pressed against silk carpets when he was taken roughly and impatiently, or, on the contrary, slowly and carefully, as if Jun Wu is really trying to please him. It was as if he missed Jun Wu's insistent touch and his frank caresses, his fingers in his mouth and his cock inside, pushing in a ragged, obscene rhythm. It was as if Shi Wudu himself wanted it, and wanted it so much that he couldn't wait for Jun Wu to invite him to his place again.

It was stupid. It wasn't like that at all. But Shi Wudu could not get rid of these thoughts when he put words on paper that did not want to form into sentences in any way. At some point, the ink drop still could not hold on to the tip of the brush, fell down, spreading out in a dark, sloppy spot on the paper, and Shi Wudu suddenly realized that Jun Wu had done it intentionally. That he deliberately did not invite him to his place, forcing him to write this request, and feel everything that Shi Wudu felt. That Jun Wu wanted it and was waiting for it, that Shi Wudu himself would ask for a meeting, even if not at all in order to indulge in bed pleasures. Not for that, but it was enough. To make him do what he didn't want to do at all, to make him submit, to make him doubt himself.

And he did it perfectly.

"Give that to Heavenly Emperor," Shi Wudu's voice sounded indifferent and impenetrable as he handed the scroll to his junior officials, who were stupidly crowding near the curtains leading to one of the halls of the palace. And he was about to ask what they had actually forgotten here, and why they were doing something incomprehensible, when suddenly he came across an attentive, gaze of golden eyes full of interest and something else, something difficult to explain and dark at the same time.

Earth Master.

So, these idlers met him and escorted him here, to this hall, so that Earth Master could wait for Qingxuan – well, what else could he need here? Qingxuan's ringing voice came from one of the nearest rooms – and, therefore, the wait promised to drag on for a long time, since, judging by the fragments of what he heard, Qingxuan, as usual, preferred a female appearance, and now he was diligently choosing a dress that would suit him for this walk? Drinking? Any business? Shi Wudu didn't know that. But he wouldn't ask Earth Master about anything.

Hearing about Heavenly Emperor, Earth Master instantly caught sight of the scroll in Shi Wudu's hands – and a smile, so strange, so unusual for him, twisted his thin lips for a moment. And one more look – quick, piercing – at Shi Wudu's earrings, at the snow-white silk wrapped in light gold, snow-white silk, whose price was so high that not every god could afford to buy at least one of these thin, intertwined threads, snow-white silk, which clearly spoke about to whom now Shi Wudu belongs.

And it all subsided in the same way – swiftly, instantly. Earth Master again assumed an air of indifference and detachment, turned away again, as if he was not interested in all this – neither the scroll that Shi Wudu was going to give to Heavenly Emperor, nor the gift that Shi Wudu was now forced to always wear, nor at least something related to him and belonging to him. He only grimaced expressively, listening to Qingxuan's reasoning about women's outfits, and how beautiful and elegant they are, and how difficult it is to choose the most suitable one among them. He straightened out his low-key, black and gold clothes that had crumpled when he settled down on the sofa in the hall. He winced a little, as if he didn't want to answer someone on Private spiritual communication array - his fingers involuntarily twitched to his temple for a moment, but then, as if realizing who exactly needed him, Earth Master reluctantly lowered them back and, pulling some old scroll out of his sleeve, began to read it with such it was as if there was no one around and nothing was happening.

But this was really unexpected.

Because Earth Master has never been anything but a gossip.

He was worthless and useless, he wasn't even in the top ten, he didn't have any power, influence, or wealth. He always seemed frankly boring to Shi Wudu with these endless, dusty scrolls, gloominess and laconicity, his affairs, which he performed slowly and diligently, as if he were a diligent student, and not a god.

 

But he wasn't a gossip.

And he was almost the only one in Heaven – Shi Wudu was sure of this – was not at all interested in his relationship with Jun Wu, nor how often Jun Wu invited him to his palace, nor how long he indulged in bed pleasures with him, nor even where and how he took him, and what other unimaginably expensive gifts he gave. None of this was interesting, important, or meaningful to him.

So why the sudden interest in this cursed scroll?

And one more thing seemed strange to Shi Wudu – who would have thought that the Earth Master was actually so secretive and so adept at pretending to hide his real self. After all, just a moment – and he again pretended that what was happening did not concern him in any way and did not affect him in any way. So quickly to force himself to feign indifference again, when in fact he clearly felt interest? To do this, it was necessary to be able to portray what was expected of him, and what everyone was used to, and not at all what really was, what was his essence, what was really important to him.

Shi Wudu looked at Earth Master with a thoughtful look, not hiding at all, unlike him, and before returning to his room, he made a strange, unclear decision for himself, to take a closer look at Earth Master.