Chapter Text
[ Unlocked a new plotline and escaped the Water Prison. T-Points +500!
Please continue to change the narrative and achieve happiness for the protagonist! ]
Outside of the Water Prison, as they walk together towards the main palace, Shen Qingqiu finds the brightness of sunshine hard to adjust to. He blinks rapidly, feeling blinded. Only Luo Binghe keeps him moving forwards with the softest and most patient urging.
It's not only the sunlight that takes him by surprise; the purity of the air stings delightfully in his lungs, which had grown accustomed to still, dead must. And a warm, dry breeze caresses him, almost painful after only being surrounded by a chilling damp.
It feels as though he’s lived a hundred years underground, dead and buried already, and he’s only been brought back to life by Luo Binghe.
“How long was this master held in the Water Prison under Luo Binghe’s care?” he asks.
“Three months before the trial, and fourteen more months since the trial’s conclusion,” Luo Binghe dutifully responds.
Well, he’d only transmigrated once the original goods had been found guilty, so it’s better than it could have been! Isn’t it so kind the System had allowed him to skip the humiliation of being found guilty for all of those crimes?
[ The System is always seeking to provide the best customer experience! ]
Shut up.
“Shizun must be happy to come out,” Luo Binghe says. Is that a touch of smugness in his voice?
Aren’t you the one who put me there in the first place, young man? Should you congratulate yourself for being the one to open the door back up…?
Isn’t this too much like a child who broke a vase, expecting praise for gluing it back together?
Shen Qingqiu purses his lips to stop from laughing.
He inclines his head and agreeably responds, “This master is quite happy. It’s all thanks to Luo Binghe.”
The hands holding him squeeze a bit, and a heavy gaze drops on the side of his face.
Together, they continue walking in a companionable silence through the forest hiding the entrance to the prison. Despite the trembling in his legs, his body is gently held steady by Luo Binghe’s hands around his waist. They’re broad, cool against the exposed parts of skin, and firm as stone holding him upright, leaving absolutely no doubt in his mind that he would never allow Shen Qingqiu to fall.
Gradually the tidy path in the woods clears out, golden paving replacing the natural stone. Further beyond he can see gilded pillars and white marble, delicate filigree decorating the trim. Civilization is nearly upon them.
Self-consciously he tugs the black robe that Luo Binghe had draped over him, holding it shut over the rags on his body that cannot even be called robes. It engulfs him, his body much skinnier and a bit shorter than Luo Binghe’s, perhaps by an inch or two, just enough he needs to look up to meet eyes.
Yes, yes, he knows that wearing Luo Binghe’s outer robe is something usually a privilege only granted to the harem members, but he simply can’t go into public half-naked!!
Luo Binghe catches the motion of him clutching it tighter and smiles warmly at him, eyes curving. Those warm eyes sweep down his body, before flicking back up. “Shizun suits this disciple’s colours so well.”
In the novel, Shen Qingqiu was always described as wearing whites and greens, as slender and tall and like in colour as the bamboo that thrived on the mountain. It was a very refined palette and countenance for a villain whose heart was blacker than oil; in his previous life, he had never found it narratively suitable. Being dressed in black absolutely seems more fitting.
But, there’s something about that look in Luo Binghe’s eyes…
Shen Qingqiu shivers despite the warmth of the sun on him. He looks away from Luo Binghe, but the prickling sensation on the side of his face doesn’t ease.
Is his face so interesting to stare at?!
As they step into the palace, there is a conspicuous lack of people. Surely a bustling sect would have some disciples doing errands here or there?
In the novel, Huan Hua had been one of the most premier sects, perhaps not able to rival Cang Qiong, but not that far off either. And it had only increased in power and single-minded determination to become the only sect once Luo Binghe had instated himself in the seat of power.
“It’s quiet,” Shen Qingqiu comments, looking this way and that. He manages to catch Luo Binghe’s eyes with a glance, entire body shivering again when he realizes Luo Binghe really is just staring at him. Yet, at the same time, he can’t help but smile at the feeling too.
Doesn’t it seem like Luo Binghe likes looking at him quite a lot…? Who wouldn’t feel special?
Luo Binghe hums neutrally, not seeming inclined to answer.
Really though, this palace is much too empty. No people to be seen anywhere! Shen Qingqiu gives him another assessing glance. “Is this Luo Binghe’s doing?”
Luo Binghe merely smiles serenely at him, and urges him into the palace’s large ornate entryway.
The only assumption he can come to is that Luo Binghe chased off all of the cultivators milling about just so no one would see Shen Qingqiu's shameful appearance! How thoughtful of this kind young man, not nearly as blackened as Shen Qingqiu had believed.
They walk for what feels like ages before they finally arrive at a golden door. Luo Binghe opens it and leads him in.
Inside is even more opulent, all fine gilded panels of leaves and flowers in great murals on the marble walls, with pearlescent cranes embedded in the scenery. Bronze vases, velvet tapestries, perfumed sachets in every corner of the grand room. What a scene of wealth!
In fact, the brightness of the gold almost hurts his eyes.
It’s a bit gaudy. The simple yet elegant house surrounded by bamboo that he’d witnessed in Luo Binghe’s dream realm, that suited his tastes just fine. But he’s not one to complain! … much.
Bookshelves line one corner of the room, a plush carpet and comfortable settee situated by them.
There are shuttered doors beside those shelves that must lead into spacious closets, a boudoir situated nearby with a bronze mirror polished so brightly it reflects the room back without a single smudge.
There is another set of doors beside those, small and nearly unassuming. Perhaps leading into another room?
At the centre is a massive canopied bed, just as unnecessarily large and extravagant as everything else, shimmering gold sheets so soft and silky they look liquid. It could easily fit three men side by side, perhaps even more. There are a myriad of pillows, soft, large, small, ceramic and plush, all mixed together haphazardly, as if Luo Binghe hadn’t been sure which he would prefer so he simply put them all.
Something prickles at Shen Qingqiu’s heart as he thinks about all the effort which had gone into making this space just for him. Had he done it in those four long days, wondering if Shen Qingqiu would pass or fail the tea ceremony test?
A small servant’s door opens in the back corner of the room, and a large steaming pail of water is brought in, poured into the exquisite tub in the back. The air fills with the scent of rosewater.
As they perform their task the servant keeps their eyes down, resolutely not looking towards Shen Qingqiu or Luo Binghe, and scuttles quietly out the moment their task is done.
“Another demon?” Shen Qingqiu asks, looking curiously after them.
He had quite enjoyed getting to see Driest Skin’s true form, short-lived as it may have been. Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky didn’t know the first thing about writing a decent story or sex scenes that didn’t make the reader want to roll their eyes, but he hadn’t been half bad at creating mildly interesting demonic creatures.
Fingers trail up his back towards his neck, the cold tips of them resting at his nape with a gentle pressure. “Shizun really is quite taken with demons now, isn’t he?”
Something in Luo Binghe’s tone isn’t quite right.
Well, he must still be somewhat conflicted about Shen Qingqiu’s sudden change in character. For someone who had once heartlessly thrown him down due to his demonic heritage, Shen Qingqiu pulling an about-face and showing a genuine interest in demons must be almost unsettling.
He glances back over his shoulder, meeting Luo Binghe’s gaze that never seems to leave him.
“Luo Binghe is still the most impressive,” he reassures quickly.
“So Shizun likes me the most?”
How embarrassing. Bing-ge, no need to fish for compliments like this. Naturally the answer is, “Of course.”
Luo Binghe beams brightly at him.
Satisfied at Shen Qingqiu’s soothing, Luo Binghe guides him to the steaming wooden tub. “Would Shizun care to have a bath?”
It’s said as a question, but the hands currently tugging at his big black safety-blanket robe are anything but. Peeled right off, he’s left in the rags that barely cover anything, large swatches of fabric peeled off and scraped away from his fourteen months in the Water Prison.
Shen Qingqiu clutches at those rags, crossed arms over his chest, before he can help himself. He hasn’t even bathed with a family member in years! Luo Binghe, please spare him some face!
“W-Wait a moment!” he rushes to say, shying away from Luo Binghe’s grasping hands.
Luo Binghe gives him a look, and then:
[ Protagonist Satisfaction Points: +25! ]
What the hell is this? Satisfaction Points? System, dear, if you’re going to start assigning new points, couldn’t you at least please include your reasoning for them?
[ Due to entering a new story arc, the System has been updated and new points have been unlocked! As always, the System endeavours to provide only the best user experience! ]
… Seriously, shut up.
And why does it feel so gross?!
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe smiles, stepping closer and reaching out to him again. Shen Qingqiu squirms back, is pursued again, and finally bumps against the tub with nowhere left to go. Entreating, Luo Binghe says, “Shizun is still too injured. What if something happens and Shizun is hurt? This disciple would never forgive himself.”
Shen Qingqiu’s heart is moved.
Really, now that Luo Binghe has decided to insert himself under Shen Qingqiu as a disciple again, he’s become quite a dedicated and charming little sheep.
That kind of reasoning sways his reluctance. In his heart he weeps for his manly pride and slowly uncrosses his arms. Not hesitating to take advantage of his lowering guard, Luo Binghe really actually rips the rags off of him, burning them into nothing with a flare of qi.
Shen Qingqiu awkwardly hides his… part… and climbs into the tub.
Thus, a very strange bathing scene begins.
In the novel, many such scenes would be described: Luo Binghe tenderly bathing his wives, watching the water pooling around their bosoms, dripping water and sweat rolling over their snow-white skin. The audience and Luo Binghe alike would be enticed and aroused by their bodies barely hidden under the hazy water.
Shen Qingqiu looks down at himself.
His body is pale, certainly. But on that pale canvas are a hundred old wounds: brown scabs, red lashes, and bruises shaded from red to green to black. There are scrapes, rope burns, and even a few clear boot marks imprinted on him here and there.
And though thinness is a quality sought after, he can count each of his ribs with perfect clarity, skin sucking in under the last rib and sticking back out again at his hips. His arms look strange and legs stranger with no muscles to flesh them out, bones sticking out awkwardly and appearing almost unnatural.
No one could look at his body and find anything attractive about it.
Luo Binghe’s hand trails down his spine, down into the water, stroking all the bruises and open sores from the whips and ropes. It aches horribly, dull and sharp at once. But Luo Binghe’s touch brings with it a syrupy golden warmth, a warmth that goes so deep it makes the steaming bath water seem chilled in comparison.
At that stroking touch:
[ Protagonist Satisfaction Points: +5! ]
Shen Qingqiu feels a bit perturbed.
“Binghe?”
Luo Binghe's hand pauses at the base of his spine, resting there with a gentle pressure. “Yes, Shizun? Please let your disciple know if you desire anything at all.”
“Is Binghe… happy to do this?”
Luo Binghe looms over him, expression mild. His hand strokes over the knobs of Shen Qingqiu's spine like one would pet a cat, still passing qi to him. “Shizun, should I not be happy?”
He clicks his tongue. “Don't answer your Shizun's question with a question, silly child.”
Strangely:
[ Protagonist Satisfaction Points: +10! ]
Shen Qingqiu is shocked.
This Shizun-disciple roleplay, it really is effective!
Luo Binghe's point of view is clear. Despite Shen Qingqiu scolding him, it is without heat, and perhaps could even be called a touch playful. The gaze once derisive in their shared time on Qing Jing Peak, is now calm. Naturally it would result in a greater satisfaction to be recognized by someone once so cold and heartless.
As if listening to his thoughts, Luo Binghe replies, “Shizun's mood is very good, and his patience is boundless. For this disciple to be allowed to attend to his Shizun, it is an honour. If Shizun would like to reject me…”
He feels a buzz of the parasites moving around in a clear threat, not biting yet, just squirming to remind him of their existence.
Luo Binghe's behaviour in the novel is like this: when someone is good to him, he will repay those kind actions a thousand times over. He had always been earnest and sincere in his efforts as a disciple, pure of heart and pristine in intentions.
One could consider this as a form of retroactive therapy, healing those childhood damages. If that's the case, Shen Qingqiu has no reason to argue.
Shen Qingqiu keeps his tone in his teacher roleplay, “Binghe, don't fret and worry yourself over nothing. This master welcomes your help.”
Luo Binghe actually makes a pleased sound deep in his throat, and continues earnestly massaging his back under the water. Fingers stroking everywhere, finding injuries he had not even realized were there in the mess, working out the knots in muscles and slowly soothing away the sting of cuts and bruises.
In another life, Luo Binghe would be the ultimate masseur. He would be working his magical fingers on the highest echelon of elites, truly. No one would dare miss having Luo Binghe massage their worries and aches away.
Gradually his back stops aching, and those hands move to his shoulders, working away until he's liquid and warm all over.
Those earnest, golden hands roam up his neck, thumbs pressing up in rolling motions on each side of his vertebra. Fingertips rub firmly, on his jaw and temples, then his scalp. Everywhere humming pleasantly with qi, stresses and aches he hadn't recognized were there vanishing into the bathwater steam. His relaxation level has hit maximum!
Luo Binghe catches him just before he faceplants into the water, already snoring.
The softest, smallest laugh huffs out of Luo Binghe. Fuck. How embarrassing. How relaxed can you be to almost fall asleep?! Shen Qingqiu wants to drown himself in the tub to restore some of his pride!
“The day has gone long, and the sun is nearly set,” Luo Binghe kindly says, the sun still clearly near its peak. “Let's get you out now, Shizun, so we can feed you and put you to bed.”
He picks up and plops Shen Qingqiu down on a wooden stool like he’s naught more than a soggy kitten, not minding the water staining his pristine robes.
Luo Binghe dries him with a towel that stays too suspiciously warm and dry to be natural, perhaps enhanced with qi. As he does, a notification pops up yet again:
[ Protagonist Satisfaction Points: +5! ]
Hm. Perhaps it's satisfaction that he no longer needs to smell Shen Qingqiu's rank. Laying around sweating, bleeding, and puking all over himself for a year in the same robes surely didn't make him smell like roses.
Then he kneels and strokes a hand over Shen Qingqiu's feet, ostensibly to dry those too.
[ +5! ]
……
Shen Qingqiu staunchly ignores that one, unable to come up with a solid reason on the spot.
With speed and care that any esthetician would kill for, Luo Binghe handily trims his nails and tidies him up, passing a warm sharp blade over his face and neck to cut away the scraggly little beard that had grown there. He holds Shen Qingqiu in one hand and cuts with the other.
Because he knows Luo Binghe likes him, if just a little, fear of having a sharp blade at his throat doesn't so much as cross his mind. He shuts his eyes and relaxes, listening to Luo Binghe's steady breathing, pliantly allowing himself to be turned this way and that.
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe murmurs, stroking his newly clean-shaven cheek with the back of his fingers.
Shen Qingqiu's eyes flutter open. Then he winces back.
My god, is he shining? A golden halo really appears to be glowing behind his head, bright as a thousand rays of sunshine!
Till the mountains crumble, till rivers run dry; till thunder rumbles in winter, till snow falls in summer; and the earth mingles with the sky…
Only when such things come to pass, could Luo Binghe ever be considered not the most handsome.
Whatever is in Shen Qingqiu’s face, Luo Binghe seems at once surprised and enticed by it, leaning down to study him. The hand on his cheek lowers to curve around the column of his throat, resting gently there, thumb stroking his pulse. Luo Binghe’s gaze is lidded and heavy, eyes dark, lips parted just enough to see white teeth.
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe says, hardly a whisper.
Shen Qingqiu, feeling abruptly a little nervous for no reason he can pinpoint, swallows shakily. “I'm here.”
Luo Binghe leans further forward over him as he holds the tender part of Shen Qingqiu's throat and jaw, tilting his face up. Across Shen Qingqiu's face ghosts warm breath, and strands of Luo Binghe's hair tickle the sides of his cheeks and ears.
Above Shen Qingqiu, all he can see is Luo Binghe's face, beautiful beyond comparison. Luo Binghe is simply staring at him, and it gives off the same air as a child looking through a storefront window at a toy they need more than air.
“Shizun…”
Luo Binghe lowers a bit more, until Shen Qingqiu can feel the word itself gusting over his lips.
What is this scenario!
Shen Qingqiu slams his fist down on the ejection button. “I'm cold!”
Blinking, startled out of his daze, Luo Binghe jerks up straight. His hand clenches and unclenches spastically over Shen Qingqiu's throat, then finally relinquishes its grip.
“Then, just a moment Shizun, and I'll fetch your clothing...”
What is with that tone of disappointment, young man!
Shen Qingqiu is almost glad that Luo Binghe has decided to take on the role of nursemaid, he thinks, as Luo Binghe brings back an armful of cloth.
Though of course he’s a fan of wuxia and xianxia novels, he’s never worn hanfu himself, and the many layers seem quite intimidating… If the normal rules can even be applied to this bullshit novel!
It’s not as though Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky had excessively detailed any of them putting on their clothing. Most of the time, clothing had just been there to take off.
As he dresses Shen Qingqiu in careful movements, Luo Binghe’s knuckles continuously brush over his ribs, and over the skin of his back. The most inner robe is a pristine white, softer than the expensive designer brands his er-ge had always been so fond of. Luo Binghe’s fingers dip inside the collar as he tugs it on, brushing the skin between his shoulder blades as he draws out Shen Qingqiu’s hair.
“Comfortable, Shizun?”
Luo Binghe’s voice comes from close to his ear, a low and quiet murmur that makes a prickling shiver run down his back. He tries to shy away, but Luo Binghe is a step ahead of him, crowding into him, hand at his waist to keep him still.
Petulantly, Luo Binghe asks, “Shizun?”
Please… Spare him some face… Just a little…
“It’s fine,” he manages tightly, gently trying to swat away the hand at his hip.
After a gentle squeeze, Luo Binghe finally unlatches his hands and returns to dressing him.
The most inner robes are white, but everything else on top is black and red. They're somewhat simple as Binghe stops dressing him before they get to the proper outer layers, yet the quality of them cannot be denied. On top, there is a plain belt that is tied around his thin waist, cinched enough to keep the robes in place but not so tightly to cause discomfort.
Luo Binghe fusses here and there, ensuring that his clothing is perfectly in place.
And all the while:
[ +5! ]
[ +5! ]
[ +5! ]
[ +5! ]
…
Shen Qingqiu irritably swipes away the dozens of notification windows.
Look, having some satisfaction in a job well done is a healthy and normal thing. Doubly so for the protagonist who is exceptional beyond all other talent in this world, shining as a golden beacon in a land of darkness. He should be proud of himself and his efforts.
But, there is a limit!!
He's showering in points! The problem is, who could've guessed this new currency would come so easily, and in such bizarre ways?! What sort of satisfaction is this?!
Can he dare ask what in Luo Binghe's head is damaged enough to start pouring out these Satisfaction Points on him?
Shen Qingqiu wants to cry blood by the time he's sat down, about to be spoon fed some light and easy to eat congee by the protagonist's very own fucking hand! His hand!! A streak of goosebumps run down Shen Qingqiu’s forearms.
“This disciple made this for you, Shizun,” Luo Binghe says with an eager face.
He's a grown man… Bing-ge, please, his pride can't take much more of this. He hasn't been spoon fed since he broke his arm falling out of a tree and his mother hadn't let him lift a thing for a month after.
All other things perhaps could be fine. But how can this be fine?
“Binghe,” he says helplessly, torn between feeling fond and feeling embarrassed. “I can eat it myself.”
“Oh,” Luo Binghe says simply. Then he puts the spoon down. “But, how can Shizun hold the bowl, if his hand is like this?” Luo Binghe innocently asks, reaching out and firmly squeezing his left hand.
The shock of pain is immense. It had never healed properly, and he feels the old breaks creaking, rubbing together like grinding chalk. The scars tremble and stretch. The shocks shoot all the way up and down his arm, strangely even in his skull, pinching nerves everywhere.
Shen Qingqiu's face twitches and he gasps, collapsing a bit to the side.
“Shizun, don't be shy. This disciple is here to assist, and will do so to the utmost of my abilities,” Luo Binghe amicably says. “Even if both of your hands may break, aren't mine here to help you?”
Shen Qingqiu grunts in pain and nods his head.
Alright! He gets the picture! No need to go around breaking more bones, just feed him already…
The spoon is held to his mouth again and he agreeably takes the bite.
Watching him chew, Luo Binghe seems to wait eagerly for his final rating of his food. These mood swings back and forth between forcing him to submit to the freshly made Shizun-disciple roleplay, to actually being an adorable and sweet-faced disciple, it's actually rather endearing.
Shen Qingqiu swallows and cannot help himself from speaking at length, “This… It's quite good. No, to say ‘quite good’ is a disservice. In truth, it's exceptionally made.” Unable to help himself, he goes on, “Snow-white rice, finely chopped scallions, delicious minced pork, and shredded ginger in just the right amount, all at the perfect temperature! And prepared at such short notice at just the right moment to serve, what talent my Binghe has!”
Those words, ‘my Binghe', cross his lips before he can stop them.
Luo Binghe does not seem opposed at all, lips curling and eyes curving shut like a cat that has just swallowed the plumpest, juiciest mouse.
At his shameless heaping of praise, Luo Binghe’s eyes glitter with self-satisfaction, another smattering of [ +5! ]’s popping up around him. He feeds Shen Qingqiu another scoop that he ravenously chomps down on.
“Then, if Shizun likes it, may I give it to him every day?”
Shen Qingqiu's eyes fly wide, round as coins, and he chokes on the congee in his mouth. Luo Binghe merely watches with a mild look, neither hurrying to soothe him nor enjoying his shock. Simply watching.
Yes indeed, Shen Qingqiu is a little shocked. Luo Binghe’s excellent cooking skills had always been described as one of his foremost lady-killing techniques.
Naturally, even eating it is shocking enough. But even more shocking is that line used to coax several spoiled young ladies into joyfully entering his harem.
Shen Qingqiu takes a while to respond.
Luo Binghe’s expression has a strange feeling to it, mildness edging into something sharper. “Shizun dislikes it?”
Anyone who dislikes it would have to be an idiot. Luo Binghe is the one who offered it, no reason to reject it now. If he desires it, so shall it be!
Like this he brainwashes himself into accepting the protagonist as his housemaid. Shen Qingqiu finally responds in a warm and wholesome way, “This master likes it very much. From today onward, I’ll leave this to you.”
Expression clearing like clouds dispersing from before the sun, Luo Binghe smiles again, immensely satisfied.
At night, Shen Qingqiu lays happily bundled up in bed. The sheets are thoroughly soft, finer than woven silk.
He’s clean, he’s fed, he’s warm and dry, and now he’s very sleepy.
It’s a far cry from managing to pass out on the rocky ground with only shredded robes and a chilly breeze as a blanket. Once his arms had been bound behind him, he hadn’t even been able to pillow his head on his arms, simply forced to lay down and find a hollow to settle his face into.
Now he has a king’s choice of pillows, and he picks the fluffiest, softest one, stuffed with cotton and covered in the finest silk. It’s cool against his cheek and the inside feels like clouds were plucked from the sky and trapped inside.
In a bed as soft as this, he can almost forget how his body still aches all over. The lingering cracks and incorrectly healed breaks in his bones tingle sharply in pain when he moves the wrong way or inhales too deeply. His left hand is the worst of the old scars, acting up the moment he uses it to hold anything heavier than a feather.
This world has no shortage of panaceas and miraculous treasures. Surely some flower or herb out there could heal his broken body.
Failing that, Cang Qiong Mountain Sect even possesses one of the greatest medical cultivators in this world, Mu Qingfang, lord of Qian Cao Peak. The cultivators of Cang Qiong were well known to be as close as family.Perhaps Luo Binghe would allow him to visit the good doctor, even if he were against Shen Qingqiu returning permanently.
He has an entire immortal life to plan his healing journey now, so long as Luo Binghe doesn’t change his mind again. There’s no rush.
Sleep tugs heavily at his eyes, and he settles back, fully intent on passing out and spending the next few days in bed.
A feminine moan filters into the room.
Shen Qingqiu snaps awake. He turns in the darkness, glancing about the room and waiting to hear it again. A moment passes without a disturbance.
… A ghost?
Another moment passes. Perhaps it had been a dream –
“Ah, Luo-gege! Yes! There!”
Shen Qingqiu freezes.
An embarrassed, prickling heat starts at his scalp and creeps down his entire body. He dares not move nor breathe, staying frozen in place. Only his eyes move, slowly looking over at the doors he had assumed let out into some other empty room.
That’s… That’s… That, that, that–!!!
“Luo-gege, Luo-gege, harder!”
That’s the entrance to Luo Binghe’s room!!! He has a connecting suite to the protagonist’s room?!?
The woman in the other rooms keeps moaning, spouting random porny bullshit while she happily papapa’s with the protagonist. Naturally, Luo Binghe would have already bedded a few different women, taking them into his newly budding harem, needing them to help keep Xin Mo’s backlash at bay. That is no surprise.
The surprise is this: why is his room attached? Is Shen Qingqiu such a VIP that he’s been put into the connecting room of the presidential suite? Shouldn’t this room be saved for the First Wife of the harem, rather than be rented out to a convicted criminal?
An oddly uncomfortable sensation passes over him, his stomach twinging, not quite painful but not pleasant. His thighs press together, rubbing against the soft cotton of his pants, and the twinge in his stomach intensifies.
Right away coming to his senses, he straightens himself back out and promptly rolls to face away from the door, clasps his hands over his ears, and pretends to be dead.
Shen Qingqiu had thought that perhaps being hand fed would be a one time ordeal. Looking back, he now sees just how short-sighted of him that hope had been.
Seated close to him, Luo Binghe is blowing gently on a spoonful of porridge. Once cooled, he holds it out with an entreating look. When Shen Qingqiu doesn’t leap to gobble it up, Luo Binghe frowns. “Shizun, aren’t you hungry?”
He is! He honestly couldn’t wait to eat more of the protagonist’s cooking! A team of elite chefs back in his hometown couldn’t create more delicate, delicious dishes!
But, please, Bing-ge, we’re both men here, you know?
“Though my hand may not function to the capacity it once did, this master is not so incapable as to need my disciple to feed me,” he tries to say sternly, infusing his words with the righteousness of an immortal and lofty Shizun.
This Shizun-disciple roleplay had worked well before!
Luo Binghe does not waver an inch in holding the spoon to his lips. He smiles a bit. “If Shizun doesn’t eat, I suppose Shizun isn’t as hungry as I thought.”
Tsk.
Shen Qingqiu resigns himself to a life of eating from the protagonist’s palm.
It’s only after, that Shen Qingqiu realizes eating from those golden hands is the least of his worries.
The worst is that he must stand there flustered and red as Luo Binghe undresses him down to the very last layer, until he’s left bare as the day he was born, then bathes him only to redress him as he sees fit.
Day in, day out, Shen Qingqiu gradually becomes immune to the sight of his own naked body being familiarly stroked by a man’s hands.
One thing Shen Qingqiu learns is that Luo Binghe enjoys Shen Qingqiu sitting and listening to him, and rather quickly they form a habit of sitting together and reciting poetry.
Shen Qingqiu has maxed his ‘wuxia nerd’ stat, so he can actually keep up!
Early on, as Luo Binghe reads to him, reciting a long and beautiful epic for his entertainment, Shen Qingqiu discovers quite quickly that he cannot sit upright without something at his back for too long. After only an hour or so, his chest begins throbbing and burning with the many healed-over breaks in his ribs.
Though gradually regaining his health, old wounds will forever linger.
Shen Qingqiu breathes slowly through his nose, lips pinched tightly.
Luo Binghe’s gaze shoots directly to him, his sweetly spoken prose ceasing and book being handily discarded. “Is something the matter, Shizun?”
“Just feeling a bit tired,” he dismisses, breathing shallowly.
If a man points at a dog and calls it a cat, wouldn’t it be obvious that man is lying? Luo Binghe sees Shen Qingqiu dismiss his question with a bland excuse, and discerns it as a lie just as simply. Not only is the pain in his face obvious, the blood parasites within him can distinctly report back the flaring pain.
Luo Binghe strikes while the iron is hot.
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe says, moving to Shen Qingqiu’s side. “If you’re sore, should this disciple massage somewhere?”
Shen Qingqiu’s back shudders. Massage somewhere? Please keep your lady-killer lines for the ladies, alright? Some sister out there would be delighted beyond words to have the protagonist’s golden hands kneading away her worries, but Shen Qingqiu is just fine, thank you!
Plucked from the ground and laid back on the settee, Shen Qingqiu cannot find a moment to say a word of opposition as Luo Binghe flutters around piling pillows under him.
Then, settling down at his feet, Luo Binghe continues reciting the long story. Without bringing any attention to it, Luo Binghe casually takes Shen Qingqiu’s feet into his lap and begins massaging them with clever fingers.
Shen Qingqiu cannot decide what to be outraged about first, so he says nothing and lies there being pampered.
“Shizun, won’t you listen to this disciple’s guqin playing?” Luo Binghe asks one day, almost shyly holding the instrument in his hands.
He lowers his lashes humbly, toying with the guqin, as if expecting Shen Qingqiu to say ‘no’. A grown man, digging his toes into the carpet like a shy schoolgirl!
Shen Qingqiu wonders what kind of horrible comment he would have left if Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky had dared write such a scene for his favourite stallion protagonist.
“I know my ability is subpar and incomparable to Shizun’s own, but as Shizun’s hand is injured and can no longer enjoy such a thing, perhaps this disciple’s humble attempts can bring some comfort.”
Hah! Subpar? Incomparable? Humble?? Each description is more laughable than the last.
They sit together, Shen Qingqiu leaning against his shoulder to ease the pressure on his chest, and Luo Binghe plays a simple and elegant tune. He should be embarrassed at this pose, looking like a girl leaning on her boyfriend, but his chest really does ache.
“Forgive this disciple for his lack of talent,” Luo Binghe says once done, just as shyly as before.
“Binghe, if you want to be praised, there’s no need to be coy,” Shen Qingqiu teases.
Luo Binghe turns his face towards him, and breathes against his scalp. His next words are spoken quietly and directly against his hair, “Then, praise me.”
Shen Qingqiu can’t help it; he laughs in surprise. But he does as bid, and easily lavishes praise on Luo Binghe’s capable playing: unparalleled and heavenly talent, exceptional to the point of inspiring envy in any onlooker, unmatched by any peer…
The outpour of Satisfaction Points after that more than makes up for all the embarrassing things he says.
Many days pass.
Shen Qingqiu reads, eats, sleeps, and wakes, all under Luo Binghe’s watchful eyes.
In his previous life, his meimei had collected many dolls and accessories, obsessed to death in playing house with them.
He had played with her sometimes when her friends were unable to come for play-dates. It wasn’t very manly, but as the closest one in age to her and the one who spoiled her the most, he had been critically unable to say ‘no’ when his adorable meimei blinked her large teary eyes up at him.
In a little playhouse with fake tiny sofas and chairs, a fake tiny kitchen and bathroom, and plenty of doll clothes and shoes, he and his meimei had played dozens of hours!
Perhaps this is karma for him boyishly bullying those dolls… Because now he knows exactly what it’s like to be one of those old little dolls, someone playing house with him.
“Shizun, it’s time to brush your hair. Please excuse this disciple’s intrusion.”
His novel is directly pulled from his hands, revealing Luo Binghe’s adorably expectant face. What kind of disciple would dare do this to their master…? After a beat, Shen Qingqiu sighs and gets up, moving to sit in his comfortable chair in front of the boudoir.
No point saying ‘no’, no point saying ‘yes’; whatever Luo Binghe wants, he will get. Really, he doesn’t mind, only that it’s nonstop!
First it’s: “Shizun, it’s time for you to get dressed for the day. This disciple has selected something nice for you…”
Then: “Shizun, it’s time to eat. This disciple made your favourite…”
Over and over, Luo Binghe constantly saying, “Shizun, Shizun, Shizun.” Isn’t he sick of that word?
Do what you like, Bing-ge! Shen Qingqiu half-heartedly complains in his heart as his crown is gently undone and his hair pulled out behind him in Luo Binghe’s capable hands. Your didi-doll is here to play with!!
His hair is already soft and without knots, looking just as sleek and gorgeous as what one would see in a shampoo commercial. For someone like Luo Binghe, that level of beauty is only natural, his hair obediently curling gently and staying artfully tousled. But for Shen Qingqiu, this level of beauty is only due to one thing. After all, hasn’t he had his hair brushed twice today already?!
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe says.
Shen Qingqiu waits, but nothing else is said. He can’t help but feel a little fond of this little habit Luo Binghe has formed, calling after him like a little puppy yipping for its mother. “I’m here.”
Standing behind him, Luo Binghe carefully massages oil into the bottom tips of his hair, the fragrance herbal and just a bit spiced.
“This scent is popular among the upper class these days, Shizun,” Luo Binghe explains, speaking just to speak.
He’s very enamoured these days with talking, and having Shen Qingqiu listen attentively, humming at the appropriate moments. Saying this and that, discussing everything under the sun. Explaining monsters, detailing his victories in the demonic realm, reading poetry, all just so he can look at Shen Qingqiu and be told, “Well done, Binghe.”
The Luo Binghe in the novel had never rambled on unnecessarily, taught in his youth by cruel young masters and a crueller Shizun to keep his mouth shut and head down lest a whip come his way.
“It’s said to promote healthy circulation and bring a good mood to the wearer. Shizun has been under a lot of stress; this disciple can only hope of bringing some ease to him.”
That stress was all thanks to you, you know? Do you know??
Shen Qingqiu pulls a lock of hair over his shoulder and inhales the scent. It really is quite nice. Luo Binghe, seeking out an oil designed to soothe his mood and keep him feeling healthy, it’s really…
Something flutters in his stomach.
However, this strange doll treatment is not the only concern Shen Qingqiu has. More importantly are those damned suspicious ‘Satisfaction Points’ that keep jumping up and up and up.
Eventually Shen Qingqiu had gotten so fed up he’d muted any notifications under fifty points.
He simply can’t be bothered to read [ +5! ] every ten seconds whenever Binghe strokes his waist, dresses him in black, hand-feeds him, or does whatever other strange little thing he’s decided he should do as an overly-dedicated disciple.
If this were a video game, Shen Qingqiu could only describe this as grinding for EXP.
EXP for fucking what, however, he cannot guess.
System, if you’re so upgraded, can’t you please let your user know what this currency can be used for? The T-Points are used for hints and he currently has quite a healthy sum thanks to escaping the Water Prison, but what about these Satisfaction Points? Can they be exchanged for some gacha pulls or something?
[ Upon achieving the required number of points, a new branching plot line may become available. Please sincerely continue your efforts and seek the protagonist’s happiness! ]
Oho? He’s already on a branching plot line, isn’t he? Shen Qingqiu was supposed to die in the Water Prison, yet he remains healthy and whole.
So, the System intends for him to divert even more from canon… And achieve Luo Binghe’s true happiness.
Then he must endeavour sincerely to get more Satisfaction Points. That’s all there is to be said.
Shen Qingqiu glances in the polished mirror at the image of his disciple. Luo Binghe’s dark eyes are warm and soft, studiously focused on his task as he patiently brushes out Shen Qingqiu’s hair a hundred times until it’s shining.
Dressed down into rather more plain clothing as compared to the regal attire he’d always worn when visiting the Water Prison, Luo Binghe fits quite nicely into his newly self-appointed position as Shen Qingqiu’s disciple. Rather than looking to impress and strike awe into the viewer’s heart with his imposing regalia, he’s carefully cultivated a harmless and demure look.
This Shizun-disciple roleplay, it’s quite hardcore!
“What is Shizun thinking about so seriously?” Luo Binghe asks, flicking his gaze up to meet Shen Qingqiu. With what he can only describe as a coquettish smile, Luo Binghe teases, “Or am I just that pleasing to look at?”
“Of course Binghe is pleasing to the eye,” Shen Qingqiu scoffs.
As if the protagonist could ever look ugly! Even as the bedraggled little street urchin covered in dirt that he’d seen in the dream, little Luo Binghe had been the cutest thing ever. Dirt only makes his inherent beauty stand out more starkly, and blood only draws the eyes to his white jade skin. The protagonist turns every potential loss into a guaranteed win!
Extremely scientific!
He nods to himself in satisfaction at his logic.
Luo Binghe carefully keeps his expression mild. Yet, unbidden, his hand clenches tightly in Shen Qingqiu’s hair.
“Shizun flatters this disciple too much,” Luo Binghe murmurs, demurely lowering his gaze. Slowly, he loosens his grip and returns to brushing it out.
Shen Qingqiu subtly rubs his lips, hiding his smile at Luo Binghe’s humble act. How cute!
He watches Luo Binghe brushing happily away, looking utterly at peace, and thinks of an idea.
“Binghe, switch places with me.”
Luo Binghe meets his eyes in the mirror again, eyebrow quirked.
With only a bit of convincing, Shen Qingqiu now stands over Luo Binghe seated in front of the boudoir with his guan removed.
“Sit still, Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu orders firmly. Luo Binghe merely looks at him, saying nothing.
He gently gathers a handful of curls. The hair in his hands is so soft, a thousand times softer than the stuffing in his pillows. Even with the twinging and aching in the left, Shen Qingqiu feels more pain at the thought of letting go of it. For a moment, he almost wants to lay his head on it! It passes through his fingers like liquid silk, already pristine and immaculate. Despite that, he grabs the comb.
Upon the first long brush through curling hair, a notification pops up:
[ Protagonist Satisfaction Points: +50! ]
Wow!
What an exceptional jump up from those measly 5 points! His guess has paid off! If Shen Qingqiu is determined to raise his EXP, he’s found his new method to grind.
Simply put: dote on Luo Binghe shamelessly and excessively!!
He brush-brush-brushes until Luo Binghe’s hair shines, passively earning that delicious EXP. When the points finally stop rolling in, he secretly braids a bit of hair together before he lets Luo Binghe get up, as a sort of ‘I was here!’.
Luo Binghe just looks at him with a shade of something close to awe.
This is his chance! If all he needs to change the plot is to unlock a certain amount of Satisfaction Points, and it’s as simple as taking the role of doting father, he is locked in and ready.
Luo Binghe’s happiness, prepare to be achieved!
Reversing the plot, Shen Qingqiu takes the bowl out of Luo Binghe’s hands at dinner time and holds the spoon to his lips rather than the other way around. Luo Binghe, bewildered, accepts the bite and chews.
[ Protagonist Satisfaction Points: +75! ]
The results are even better!
In his previous life, he had been the type of guy to raise his Pokemon to level 100 even before entering the Elite 4, carefully maximizing their EVs. He would mix up treats for them, pet them in minigames, and walk around with them until they loved him so much they could resist fainting, even to a OHKO!!
He’s quite enjoying this new life of his now that he’s being given some creature comforts back, but this…! The NEET gamer in him thrives off of seeing a big score go up! It’s enrichment!
Shen Qingqiu feels the urge to laugh, all but rubbing his hands together evilly. Prepare to be coddled, spoiled, and pampered, dear protagonist.
Before he can continue the EXP grind, Luo Binghe quickly takes the bowl back, giving him a rather guarded look.
“Shizun should eat first,” Luo Binghe says, at once politely as well as in a way that brooks no argument.
Shen Qingqiu obliges. But he watches the bowl carefully, waiting for his chance to snatch it away and boost his new enrichment activity.
Life like this is truly idyllic.
There is no end to the amount of fascinating things Luo Binghe can discuss with him. He spends many afternoons curled on the settee in the reading area with clever hands massaging his waist or feet, listening to Luo Binghe’s tales of monsters seen in the depths of the demonic realm, ghosts he has dispelled, and vengeful cultivators he has cut down.
Shen Qingqiu has the entire novel from which to draw knowledge, but hearing it directly from Luo Binghe’s mouth is a pleasure unlike any other. Luo Binghe, ever patient, describes everything he requests, even while burying his face in Shen Qingqiu's hair or feeding him some cookies from his palm.
Eventually, however, Shen Qingqiu must say something.
No longer relying on inaccurate water droplets to count the days, Shen Qingqiu clearly sees the sun and moon rising, and the days going by. Like this, nearly a month passes in quiet, warm peacefulness.
However, it simply cannot go on this way!!
Sure, he enjoys the company and all. And he would never complain about the food and hot baths! And of course Luo Binghe’s hands gently massaging his scalp before brushing his hair feel so good it could be a crime! But… But, but!
Isn’t it ridiculous for the protagonist to keep coming here playing house?!
As Shizun – no, simply as a man with respect for another man’s pride! – he cannot just let Luo Binghe sit around here all day playing with Shen Qingqiu as if he’s a little girl playing with a doll. Dressing him, brushing his hair, feeding him… It’s really just too shameful!!
Luo Binghe, think about your reputation!
Shen Qingqiu calmly clears his throat and sits at the low table situated near the window, motioning for Luo Binghe to stop tidying up his mess of books and sit in front of him. Playing the dutiful obedient role of disciple, Luo Binghe pats his hands clean of dust and moves to take a seat.
“Yes, Shizun?”
Ah, so sweet when he acts humble.
Shen Qingqiu, comfortably settling himself in the aloof and elegant master role, says, “Binghe, this master has some advice.”
Eyes sparkling, Luo Binghe eagerly leans forward. “This disciple did not know Shizun had concerns for this disciple’s affairs. Is it regarding the nomadic Three-Eyed Raven Frogs? Have I missed some detail that Shizun would like to share?”
Haha… Ah… He feels a little like he’s stepping on Luo Binghe’s heart and dreams when he shakes his head.
“This master has thoroughly enjoyed Binghe’s company these days. However, it is not suitable for a man such as you, with as many responsibilities and duties as you shoulder, to spend so many idle days at this master’s side.”
As he speaks, Luo Binghe’s smile vanishes into a thin line, the sparkling in his eyes dulling. A thin mask of ice spreads over his pristine jade face, utterly concealing any emotion from Shen Qingqiu’s eyes.
Forging on despite that, Shen Qingqiu says, “Binghe has toiled for so long and so earnestly; to achieve nothing in the end would truly be a shame. How could I face you as your Shizun?”
Luo Binghe is quiet for a moment. “Is Shizun bored? Should this disciple fetch more books to read?”
The bookshelves in the corner nearly groan under the weight of the various novels and scrolls stuffed in them, bursting with poetry, fantasy, epics, and more, as varied and detailed as one could possibly imagine. Luo Binghe has been bringing armful after armful every day, until Shen Qingqiu could not dream of keeping up with it all.
“No, this master is content with the library Binghe has supplied.”
“Then, is the decor not to your liking? Or the food? Anything within this disciple’s power will be changed right away if it offends Shizun,” Luo Binghe promptly replies.
Well, the decor is a bit much, but the food is excellent. Heavenly. Perfect. Delicious. Mouthwatering. And a dozen other wonderful words. To even think that the protagonist’s food would be anything less than the ambrosia of the gods themselves?
Hah. He can only laugh.
“Binghe needn’t go out of his way. I’m content like this.”
With all avenues exhausted, Luo Binghe has no choice other than to ask, “So, Shizun is tired of this disciple’s company?”
Shen Qingqiu balks. “No! Never!”
The corners of Luo Binghe’s his lips tighten. “Then, Shizun should clearly explain himself.”
Truthfully, these days with Luo Binghe always at his side feel more fulfilling and interesting than anything else he’s ever experienced before.
In his first life, he’d spent many of his days whiling away the time, just waiting idly to die, and in this life, he’d spent a very long, cold, hungry year without anything to occupy his mind other than counting droplets of water and a few uncomfortable ‘play’ sessions.
So to have such a fascinating and intelligent young man to sit at his side and recount his tales of glory, taking care of him, lavishing him with attention, listening to everything he says with an intense single-mindedness, not to mention spoiling him thoroughly with food and warm baths…
Said simply, Shen Qingqiu quite likes having him around. He thinks he could honestly spend the rest of his life like this.
But he simply cannot let Luo Binghe idle away his destiny, not with such a boring old man like him. He must be missing his wives, not to mention neglecting his burgeoning empire. The merging of realms has not yet come to pass, but Huan Hua and the demon realm alone must be enough to fill anyone’s plates.
It’s selfish of him to want to keep Luo Binghe around, to have him at his side all day. And he doesn’t like to imagine returning to that crushing solitary lifestyle.
But if it’s for Binghe’s benefit, he will do it.
Shen Qingqiu maintains a lofty tone, appearing unaffected and distant. It’s easier if Luo Binghe thinks there are no hard feelings on his end, or better yet no feelings at all. “No matter what we desire, no matter what we wish, the truth of reality will always reign supreme. Fate is the end of all men. And Luo Binghe’s fate isn’t whittling away his youth at this master’s side.”
“Fate…” Luo Binghe murmurs, lashes lowering. “So, Shizun can claim to know my fate?”
“A blind man could see Luo Binghe’s fate is much greater than this,” Shen Qingqiu says, waving a hand at his small room.
As exquisite as it is, and as grateful as he is to be in it, he is not stupid – this is a gilded cage to keep him in. And no cage is a worthy place for the protagonist to waste his time.
Luo Binghe’s black eyes gaze at him with a frightening intensity.
There is something at once burning and yet frigid coiled tightly inside those eyes. His face is whiter than snow, a terrible and overwhelming emotion rising behind that carefully cultivated mask. Shen Qingqiu dare not guess what that emotion could be.
Slowly, Luo Binghe leans forward over the table. The look of him distinctly strikes him as a snake tightly wound. Only one wrong movement from its prey would send it lashing forward, biting down on his neck and throttling him into submission.
Shen Qingqiu, the prey in question, sits very, very still.
Luo Binghe leans in until their noses nearly touch, staring him down unblinking all the while. Carefully enunciating each word, Luo Binghe promises, “If there is a fate, it will be thrown beneath my feet and trampled.”
Then he stands in a sharp motion, sweeping his robes out in a grandiose manner, looking down at Shen Qingqiu one would look at a disgusting pile of dog shit on the side of the road accidentally stepped in.
That’s a little hurtful! Can’t Shen Qingqiu at least be considered an insect? At least that’s still a living thing…
“This lord will leave you now as you desire,” Luo Binghe says with a smile that shows too many teeth and that doesn’t touch his eyes. “Rest well.”
The day passes.
Shen Qingqiu picks up and puts down over a dozen books, unable to read a word. When eventually he can no longer stand the silence of being alone, he goes and lays down in bed.
Shen Qingqiu shuts his eyes.
When he next opens them, he’s in a dark hole in the ground filled with water.
Everything is pitch black. Unable to see through the darkness, Shen Qingqiu cannot orient himself to swim towards a wall nor to even be completely sure he’s not swimming down rather than up.
His chest tightens.
How did he get here?
Blinded by the darkness, he splashes in the water, kicking wildly out. The water is cold, chilling his skin and stinging in his eyes and lungs as he accidentally inhales some of it in. Choking up the water, Shen Qingqiu flails and nearly dips entirely under the surface.
He picks a direction at random and swims towards it. If he can find a wall, he can find a way out.
His fingers go numb before he finds anything, his legs gradually aching at the effort of swimming, and his chest that had not healed perfectly from being shattered over and over aching terribly with every heaving gulp of air.
His entire body aches. His lungs burn painfully as he sucks in air mixed with mist from the water, and his limbs shake, feeling feverishly shivery in the biting cold of the water and from the exertion he’s putting them under.
But then, he cannot help but notice the burning takes a sharper, harsher edge.
The pain becomes burning. Shen Qingqiu pauses, swimming in place as he takes stock of himself. It’s stinging all over his body, like ants biting every inch of skin.
Something is wrong with this water.
It takes a long while before he realizes what it is, unable to see as his skin sloughs off and his blood mixes in with the water. It takes until he feels his fingers begin to separate from his hands at the knuckles.
It’s acid.
Shen Qingqiu’s lungs constrict and his head rushes with the sudden fright, realizing where he is. It’s the Water Prison. He’s in the Water Prison, sinking into the water.
The way out – there must be a way out! He has to find a wall, his rocky platform, something.
He doesn’t know how long he swims.
It doesn’t matter. By the time his legs separate at the joints of his knees, he cannot swim out no matter how hard he tries. He cannot even dream of escape any longer.
Slowly, miserably, and screaming, Shen Qingqiu melts into the water until his eaten-away limbs cease to keep him afloat. When his head finally dips under the surface with his mouth opened around his screams, the water pours in, dissolving him the entire way through.
He wakes, sweating clearly through the thin white sleeping clothes that Luo Binghe had laid out for him. Blindly he thrashes about, still kicking and swimming as though he’s still trapped in that hole.
Two firm hands hold him down and prevent him from hurting himself in his fit, and Shen Qingqiu startles as he realizes he’s back in his room at Huan Hua.
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe says simply.
Shen Qingqiu blinks at him. “... Binghe?” His throat feels raw and tender, and for a horrible moment he fears he will begin choking on hot wet blood.
“How is Shizun feeling?” Luo Binghe asks, with an air of innocent curiosity.
Sticky and gross, Shen Qingqiu thinks. Instead in a voice strong and clear enough he can bullshit himself that it’s true, he says, “Just fine.”
Luo Binghe mildly stares down at him. “Just fine? Shizun was screaming.”
Oh, how embarrassing, Shen Qingqiu. He’s lucky he didn’t wet the bed too if he was going to act like a child. He sits, grimacing at the cool night air on his sticky, sweaty back, the wet fabric bunching uncomfortably.
He waves a dismissive hand, turning to get out of bed. “It’s nothing.”
A broad palm splays out on his chest and presses him firmly back into the bed. Luo Binghe stands over him, still gazing down at him with an utterly mild expression. Shen Qingqiu cannot detect any anger nor teasing. In fact, in Luo Binghe’s face he can see no emotion at all.
Shen Qingqiu tries to sit up and is shoved back into the bed again, harder this time. Above him, Luo Binghe bends down and plants his other hand on the bedspread beside Shen Qingqiu’s head, dark hair tumbling over his shoulders and robes sweeping like a curtain around them.
This position is a little embarrassing! What is he, a maiden being forced into bed by a ruffian trying to do something dastardly to her?! Gross!
“It’s really nothing,” he says to soothe Binghe’s worries.
Luo Binghe stares silently for a long moment. Then, he smiles. A cold shiver runs over Shen Qingqiu’s scalp at the sight. “Shizun, really. If you keep calling this disciple’s efforts ‘nothing’, my feelings might get hurt. I see I must earnestly apply myself more in order to impress you.”
Shen Qingqiu startles at the implication.
Did Luo Binghe send him that nightmare? It’s the same type of cruel trick that would have been used in the novel, exquisitely crafted and impressively laid out, all to punish, torture, and inwardly destroy an enemy.
This is the second time now Shen Qingqiu has been tricked, and he is still equally impressed.
The exhaustive level of detail! The extremely accurate sensation of pain! The subtle and yet intricate ways it had tricked his mind into believing it to be completely real!
Luo Binghe, you have outdone yourself yet again! Shen Qingqiu can only applaud you!
Luckily, his pain tolerance has risen astronomically thanks to his experiences in the Water Prison, so he isn’t all that bothered by the nightmare now that he knows it was just that: a nightmare, and nothing more.
Curiously, he asks, “Has this master insulted you without realizing?”
“Shizun, this disciple clearly told you,” Luo Binghe lectures, tone breezy and light in distinct contrast to his crushing, steely palm on his sternum, “Your life sentence endures, and it will be spent at my side. That was made absolutely clear. That is the singular reason you are out of the Water Prison’s walls. So, Shizun, to reject me, doesn’t that mean you must miss that prison quite a lot?”
There is a bitter promise in those words.
Shen Qingqiu feels as if he’s swallowed ice, veins going cold. It’s difficult to discern if that chilling feeling or the hand on his chest make his lungs feel unable to expand properly. Whatever the reason, his breathing becomes a little strained.
His pain tolerance may have grown, but so has his attachment to the comforts of this room!
As a second generation little rich boy, he’s always rather liked sleeping in soft beds, being fed good food, and reading novels. At least now, he’s not bored anymore. To return to the monotonous drip-drip-drip counting…
He finds he doesn’t really want to go back.
Watching his face, Luo Binghe’s eyes don’t quite close as they curve into crescents, the reddened black of his irises glimmering hotly behind his lashes. His smile is sweeter than honey as he continues, twisting the proverbial knife in deeper, “If this disciple’s dream powers are lacking, then this disciple has no other recourse than to return Shizun to that very prison after all.”
“That… That’s not a very nice thing to do,” Shen Qingqiu manages hoarsely, his throat feeling oddly tight. He tries in vain to wriggle out from under the iron hand pinning him down again, unable to move even one singular little inch.
At his struggle, Luo Binghe looks delighted. “Go ahead, Shizun, try and run.” He laughs, a strange edge to it. “Go ahead, try!”
His face flushes red. There is no need to tease him like this, protagonist!! Be serious! What person could ever escape if Luo Binghe desired them trapped?! Least of all him, whose only hope had been to succumb horribly to the protagonist’s tortures!
If this is the only fate that can be afforded to him, how can Shen Qingqiu deny it?!
Ah – ‘fate’? That word strikes him.
Hadn’t he gone on talking about fate in their last conversation?
He remembers the freezingly cold face that Luo Binghe had worn before he’d stormed out of Shen Qingqiu’s room. It’s obvious now that Luo Binghe had been angry at his words. That he is still quite angry, enough to send him a nightmare of such exquisite caliber.
It is true beyond doubt that Shen Qingqiu had been condemned to a bloody and cruel death, and yet here he still is, far beyond his expiry date. This, only because Luo Binghe had defied this fate of his by taking him back above ground and rejecting his and the original goods’ cycle of hatred and violence towards one another.
Instead of carving him down into a human stick, this white lotus of his has instead been accommodating and gentle, feeding him and bathing him, all things Shen Qingqiu had taken for granted.
To have all of these things done by the protagonist, accustomed only to doing such tender and sweet things for his harem, then have it be thrown back in his face, naturally he would be insulted!
Suddenly, Shen Qingqiu feels the situation shift in his mind. He looks at Luo Binghe with a new appreciation.
It’s too much like bullying a clingy child who had just found their new favourite toy, coldly taking it away claiming ‘fate’ as the only logic behind it. What kind of reasoning can this be called, except the whims of a cruel and thoughtless teacher? Any person would be upset, let alone this soft-hearted child!
That’s right. In the end, isn’t Luo Binghe just throwing a tantrum?
It’s just like when Luo Binghe had pretended to choke him in the Water Prison, when he’d jumped to conclusions and gotten himself all worked up over nothing. All for show, just to get Shen Qingqiu to hurry and soothe him.
He feels a little guilty at cruelly stepping on this young man’s delicate heart.
Rather than continuing to squirm in an effort to get away, Shen Qingqiu settles comfortably in the bed. He reaches up and, without a second thought, pats Luo Binghe’s head.
“Yes, yes, Shizun is sorry,” Shen Qingqiu says, happily pat-pat-patting him. “Binghe is right. Shizun said something unnecessary.”
Luo Binghe’s cruel humour fades into soft confusion. His brow pinches gently, corners of his lips unsurely quirking downwards. “What?”
Shen Qingqiu ruffles his hair, smiling fondly. “Don’t pout, alright? Shizun won’t say anything like that about fate again. This master is perfectly fine spending his sentence under Luo Binghe’s dedicated and generous care.”
“Shizun, you’re just saying things without meaning them,” Luo Binghe pouts. Really, genuinely pouts.
A black-bellied, cruel, ruthless man, turned to a pouting little boy when his toy is taken away. This gap moe cannot be understated!!
“This master truly meant nothing cruel by it,” Shen Qingqiu reasonably explains, comfortably putting himself in an elder mentor role dealing with his moody junior. “It’s only that I was really worried about all your work.”
“How dare you presume to know this lord’s matters?” The cute pout on Luo Binghe’s face gives way to a fierce expression, lips pulling back to show his teeth.
The hand beside Shen Qingqiu’s head forms into a fist and slams into the bedding.
Speaking slowly, at odds with his physical violence, Luo Binghe continues, “How dare you accept my tea ceremony if you intend to cast away your disciple’s company?” Another furious strike to the bed. “How dare you claim the title of ‘Shizun’ if this is the depth of your dedication to me?”
Inky black qi seeps from Luo Binghe, wild and furious, whipping at him like a blustering icy wind.
Luo Binghe grabs his face and squeezes his jaw, almost shaking him with his furious trembling, beyond angry, speaking in a low snarl. “How dare you think I am some measly irritation to brush away at your convenience?”
“How could this master ever use the word ‘measly’ in the same sentence as Luo Binghe?” Shen Qingqiu almost laughs. “Binghe is surely excellent and capable beyond words. To hear of all your triumphs and victories, no man could ever mistake your absolute ability.”
“Then…!”
What a pouty child. This temper tantrum is just too adorable, really. Shen Qingqiu feels absolutely no worry. After all, if he were truly angry, he would have already done something worse.
So, Shen Qingqiu stops dodging the topic. “Of course, Luo Binghe is so capable that all of your work can be done from within this room, but what of your wives? Surely they must miss their lord husband.”
Luo Binghe stares silently. “What wives?”
Shen Qingqiu takes his turn to stare silently. It hasn’t been his imagination every night, hearing women moaning from beyond the door leading to Luo Binghe’s bedroom, alright!!
He glances at that very door with emphasis.
Luo Binghe looks dismissively. “They aren’t wives. They’ve joined this sect for their future prospects, but no rite has been officially performed yet.” Then he almost startles, realizing something. Hands pressing tighter until bruises must be forming all over his jaw and chest, he gives Shen Qingqiu a very cold glare. “Forgive this disciple’s words, but my ladies are not of Shizun’s concern.”
Not wives. Not even a proper harem. Luo Binghe has taken them under his wing and is bedding them regularly, and yet they cannot be called anything other than ‘ladies’.
What a playboy!!
Shen Qingqiu’s jaw would have dropped had it not been crushed shut with a firm hand. Who raised this boy to be like this?!
At least in the novel, Luo Binghe had made proper women out of his harem! None were considered the Empress, but he had at least taken them in with marriage ceremonies and performed the three bows with them.
For the women now, can they really be described as anything other than call girls?!
If he remembers, it had been around the time of the trial when Luo Binghe finally consolidated his power over Huan Hua Palace by marrying the Little Palace Mistress as his first wife. Ning Yingying and Liu Mingyan had followed suit, defecting away from Cang Qiong as the results of the trial were made public and their parts in Shen Qingqiu’s fall from grace were made public.
And from there, only the heavens could know how many wives Luo Binghe would one day take.
So what happened here?
“I sincerely hope Shizun understands; my ladies are to remain firmly out of Shizun’s thoughts.”
He nods, a complete and utter lie.
As if~! Hehe.
The instant he gets his chance, he’s going to be sizing up the someday harem members for himself! How can he not?! He’s read thousands upon thousands of words for each woman, knowing in exhaustive detail the roundness of their bosoms, the fairness of their skin, their dewy… ahem, ‘flowers’... and more!
He just wants to look, is that such a crime?! It’s not like he’s stupid enough to think any of the harem members are for him to pursue, it’s just a scholarly interest.
Luo Binghe looks utterly unconvinced. An angry red flares in his cheeks. Severely, he says again, “Shizun!”
The words ‘gap moe’ echo in Shen Qingqiu's mind over and over…
He ruffles Luo Binghe's hair with reinvigorated efforts, curbing his rush of cuteness aggression. So soft, so handsome, so cute!!
Luo Binghe stares at him, cheeks becoming more red with his teasing. Then he suddenly lunges down and buries his face in the crook of Shen Qingqiu's shoulder, forcing his arms underneath and wrapping him into a tight embrace.
Like this, halfway seated on the bed, Luo Binghe's bodyweight presses down on him heavily. Distinctly, the impressions of chiselled muscles press against his own waif-thin body.
A part of Shen Qingqiu wants to complain and try to roll him off, but Luo Binghe feels warm and smells good, like a newly washed weighted blanket. And really, it would feel like pushing a puppy off, much too cruel. His hands hesitate before going to run through the thick mane of curls, softer than the richest of silks.
“Why are you doing this to me?” Luo Binghe groans, clutching at him as if he'll disappear from his hands the moment he lets go.
Doing what? He's really innocent.
“Shizun, isn't it alright that I just stay here with you? Isn't it allowed? If you say that anything I desire will be within my palms, then isn't this the same?”
“But, Binghe must be so busy. How can this master be selfish enough to keep you to himself?”
Luo Binghe makes a small, soft sound. Then he exhales over the side of Shen Qingqiu’s neck, warm against his sweat-sticky skin in a way that makes him shiver.
Against his throat, close enough to nearly feel his lips ghosting over it, Luo Binghe whispers, “You’re mine, Shizun. My prisoner, forever. Mine to do with as I please. Do not forget these words: try to send me away again, and I will drag you back to the Water Prison where you cannot dare to try and choose whether to have my company.”
Really, this man could carry a thousand grudges and never waver a step under the weight of them. Sisyphus could learn something!
Shen Qingqiu amiably says, “Yes, yes, I’m your Shizun; how can I forget it? Luo Binghe is my sole disciple, after all. I am well and firmly in your hands as you please.”
At that, Luo Binghe presses his face into the sleep-warm spot between his neck and shoulder, inhaling. All of his anger seems to have faded. With them so closely entangled, Luo Binghe’s hands flattened on his back holding them together and Shen Qingqiu stroking his hair…
From an outside perspective wouldn’t it appear they’re really just cuddling?
“Ahem,” Shen Qingqiu clears his throat.
Luo Binghe doesn’t move.
“Ahem.”
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe says, sounding aggrieved.
He should be the one aggrieved!! Spoiled brat!
Luo Binghe hugs him tighter and finally says, “I only want to be with Shizun.”
Shizun this, Shizun that, shouldn't you have some regard for your own palace before your scum master who you've only just reconciled with? Yet, Shen Qingqiu finds it unbearably cute.
“Then, take me with you,” Shen Qingqiu says reasonably. Luo Binghe stiffens in his arms, listening closely. “If Binghe only wants to be at my side, yet must also attend to his work, naturally the only conclusion is to let me come along.”
Luo Binghe is silent for a long time.
Shen Qingqiu does not rush him, and simply strokes his hair.
“... Shizun, if I take you with me outside, will you be happy with me?”
Ahh, his heart is melting, ahh…
“I'm always happy with Binghe,” he says promptly.
[ Protagonist Satisfaction Points: +75! ]
After another long silence with Luo Binghe squirming a little in what Shen Qingqiu can only imagine to be happiness, he says, “I'll take Shizun out with me, but only if you let me lay here a little while longer.”
Absolutely accepted!
Shen Qingqiu happily pets his soft new blanket until the sun rises.
They step out into the hallway together. It’s as lustrous as he remembers.
Some part of him feels a bit strange leaving his room. The plush carpet always under his feet; the freshly made food always happily produced by Luo Binghe at a moment’s notice; the smell of books and ink; his bathing and hairbrushing rituals…
Those comforts afforded to him had been hard won. Leaving them behind, an irrational part of Shen Qingqiu wonders if he’ll lose them by stepping away.
A firm hand rests at his elbow and some of the anxiety fades.
That’s right. As long as the protagonist is with him and stays in a good mood, he has nothing to worry about.
Shen Qingqiu, remember this: coddle, spoil, pamper, and flatter!!
These four tenants shall be his new bread and butter! The System had better be prepared to shell out as many Satisfaction Points as it damn well has, until he hits the maximum!
“Ready, Shizun?”
Luo Binghe looks at him with a fond expression, eyes warm, voice warm. All of him, just so very warm. Shen Qingqiu feels at home with him.
It’s a veritable maze making it down to the great hall, passing through various hallways and turns, even striding through a vast and pristine garden speckled with ponds and birds. Huan Hua Palace is truly the wealthiest of all the sects, ostentatiously displaying it at every corner, like a peacock spreading its feathers.
As they finally approach where Luo Binghe addresses his Sect Master duties, a servant crosses their paths holding an armful of laundry.
They glance up at the Shizun-disciple duo, and go white.
“Hello,” Shen Qingqiu greets.
The servant looks terrified and scatters immediately.
… Does he have bad breath?
Without pause, Luo Binghe grabs his face and turns it to meet his, with a severe look in his eyes. Very sincerely, Luo Binghe says, “Shizun, this disciple did not give you permission to speak to anyone. Please bear this in mind, or we will need to return to your quarters.”
“O’ay,” he says, cheeks squished.
Luo Binghe smiles. He lets go and pats his face. “Very good that you understand, Shizun.”
Before they can take another step, a door opens at the other end of the room, and a fair looking woman walks through.
Her braided hair is pulled up into a pair of buns with orange ribbons tying them back in an adorably lovely style, face brimming with naivety. Her face is young and spritely, outfit white and green and very out of place in any self-respecting cultivation sect.
Is that…?
[ Luo Binghe’s childhood love interest, Ning Yingying. ]
It is!! It is!!
Immediately forgetting Luo Binghe’s warning to avoid putting any of his chosen future consorts in his thoughts, Shen Qingqiu all but bounces in place, watching eagerly. How lucky can he be, to be met with the OG love interest upon his first emergence back into society?!
Ning Yingying is speaking over her shoulder with a cute, girlish pout. She looks adorably bullied, as if arguing about something silly with her elder sister.
A few more filter in after her. Shen Qingqiu cannot understate his luck; this is a veritable jackpot.
The other harem members chatter with one another, Qin Wanrong and Qin Wanyue both soothing the Little Palace Mistress as she bickers and quarrels with Ning Yingying. All of them are beauties unto themselves, so fascinating in their realness that Shen Qingqiu can hardly believe it.
From the door, one more appears behind them.
It’s her! It’s her!!
Shen Qingqiu laughs in his heart, eagerly watching the last woman file in.
She’s tall, broad shouldered and thin waisted, dressed in lilacs and whites, with a veil covering the lower half of her face. At her waist is a slender sword in its scabbard, the wondrous Shui Se, whose tassel is currently in Luo Binghe’s possession as proof of their– wait.
Why is the Shui Se tassel currently on the sword itself?
He gives Luo Binghe a strange look, stalwartly ignoring the System’s pop-up announcing the identity of Liu Mingyan.
He knows now that the protagonist had not performed the three bows with any of the harem, but at least they should be promised to one another anyways? Isn’t it a little sad that even such a simple proclamation of love has not been passed between Luo Binghe and the (objectively) best female lead?
It’s certainly a bad sign for Luo Binghe’s love life!
That all said, she’s really just as fine in feature as the novel stated. He wants to see under her veil, just once. Can he just ask her? Can he??
She isn’t in the throng of the harem members, standing apart from them with a clear and level gaze. She's a silent guardian, only watching the bickering go on as she glances over the room.
Her handsome eyes land on him, and all humour is rapidly sucked from the situation as within the next breath Shui Se is at his neck, only held off by Luo Binghe’s two fingers blocking it. It’s done in such a quick motion that Shen Qingqiu can only begin to dodge back by the time the threat is neutralized, backing directly into Luo Binghe’s broad chest, an arm wrapping around Shen Qingqiu’s waist to steady him.
He really feels like he’s in the wrong position here. Isn’t this too much like a maiden being protected by her lord husband from the onslaught of a dastardly villain?
Liu Mingyan’s eyes are icy, every ounce of her strength purely aimed at taking his head off. This is absolutely the type of determination and righteous proactivity that he likes so much about her!
“Mingyan,” Luo Binghe says simply.
Her enraged gaze flicks to him. After a silent conversation between their eyes alone, she slowly pulls Shui Se back and sheathes it.
“This is the thing you’ve been so preoccupied with?” she hisses.
Shen Qingqiu ← ‘the thing’
Luo Binghe gives Shen Qingqiu a look, imperiously commanding him, “Stay put.” Then he moves away, taking Liu Mingyan by the elbow and urging her back to the throng of the other harem members.
Sure, Bing-ge. Not just a doll, now I’m a dog! Shen Qingqiu sincerely complains in his heart. Then he sighs in defeat. Nothing to do…
Like a good dog he stays put and waits for his master’s return.
At least he has something entertaining to watch as Luo Binghe corrals his harem around him, far enough away that Shen Qingqiu cannot hear them talking. His charisma is truly incomparable, all of the women’s rankled expressions clearing like dew under the sun, their brows unfurrowing and lips curling upwards pleasantly as they listen.
The way he stands draws the eye in, his stance confident and mesmerizing, shoulders pushed back and head held high. His lustrous dark hair tumbles down over his shoulders, curling and shining, pulled up into an intricate guan that is neither humble nor too ostentatious. His robes are regal, without a wrinkle nor stain, exquisitely embroidered with threads of red and silver. They’re held to his body with a finely made belt decorated with some jade amulets, accentuating his fine and thin waist.
When he turns his face to look over the ladies, Shen Qingqiu can see his side profile: the slope of his nose, the long dark lashes framing night-dark eyes, lips moving in a fluid and lovely manner as they shape words that could be akin to poetry…
Slender and sweet, as a stalk of fresh bamboo, yet undeniably manly and handsome with broad shoulders and a confident impression. This Luo Binghe, ah, such a refreshing and pleasant view. Shen Qingqiu can barely stand to look away.
But he has gorged himself silly on the sight of Luo Binghe for over a month now. This is his first chance to really look at the wives!! How can he pass this up?!
So Shen Qingqiu shamelessly looks.
They’re all beautiful in their own rights, naturally. How can they stand next to the protagonist without at least being a class of beauty of their own? Of course they still pale beside him, bright colours washed out, but they make an effort.
Ning Yingying is petite and cute. She’s outgrown her loli beginnings and become quite the charming looking young woman while still holding onto that youthful nature. The sweet and gentle childhood friend trope embodied perfectly.
The Little Palace Mistress is idly toying with a whip, one she had used a few times in bed with Luo Binghe in a way that always made Shen Qingqiu wince. How could a boy who had been severely whipped in his youth ever enjoy it in bed? Unscientific.
Qin Wanrong and Wanyue: they sure are twins. He can’t help but glance at their socks, wondering how in the world Luo Binghe had ever gained a fetish for them... Then he slaps himself and moves on.
The star of the troupe truly is Liu Mingyan. Her stance, her gaze, her lilac uniform and gauzy veil – what a delight!
He had fought in the comments time and time again arguing that she deserved to be the Empress. Although she hadn’t seemed to love Luo Binghe the way he needed nor made him truly happy, at least she held more elegance and a countenance that put the other wives to shame.
She is righteous and pure, unsullied by men’s eyes. Who wouldn’t want to peel back her layers and see what’s underneath? What man wouldn’t want to unwrap this peerless, priceless treasure with their own hands?
Shen Qingqiu’s life wouldn’t be too hard up if he could land someone like–
[ Protagonist Anger Points: +100! ]
Shen Qingqiu’s stomach sours abruptly.
It’s been some time since he’s seen that ominous alert from the System. How nostalgic!
Swallowing a bit of reflexive bile, he turns his head and looks at the protagonist staring burning holes into him. Luo Binghe smiles at him warmly.
With a casual and abrupt goodbye to his ladies, Luo Binghe turns and strides back to him. Gripping his upper arm, he guides Shen Qingqiu away from the main hall over to a quiet corner, keeping Shen Qingqiu close to him and blocking him from the eyes of anyone else in the hall with his body.
When they stop, Luo Binghe stands close to him, looking down at him with that same warm expression.
“Choose one,” Luo Binghe says. His voice could almost be mistaken for mischievous if it weren’t for the black, cold undertone to it. His fingers curl in a lock of Shen Qingqiu’s hair, tugging almost playfully; based on Luo Binghe’s tone, he half expects that hair to be ripped out.
But, he really doesn’t know what he did this time!
Bing-ge, protagonist, can’t you please use your words once or twice and just say plainly what you mean?
“Choose one, what?”
Luo Binghe smiles a bit. Any sensible man would run screaming; a smile from this man could only lead to tears for the recipient. However, Shen Qingqiu has, without fail, proven himself to not be a very sensible man, so he stands a little closer to his angry blackened disciple.
Though Luo Binghe is smiling, thanks to the System he knows that this young man is actually feeling a touch upset. Like a wounded, bullied child, trying vainly to keep a strong face.
So cute, so cute…
He gentles his voice, entreating and warm. “Binghe, what is it?”
“If Shizun likes them so much, choose one,” Luo Binghe replies lightly in a rosy tone thinner than paper, barely masking what writhing anger lay beneath. “Shizun must like them very much, after all, with how often his eye has strayed towards them. This lord is not so cruel as to deny Shen Qingqiu some entertainment; I’ll allow you to listen to what they sound like in the throes of pleasure, at least.”
Shen Qingqiu goes white, then red all over. On reflex he slaps Luo Binghe’s arm, hard as he can.
A horribly black look passes over Luo Binghe’s face. Shen Qingqiu opens his mouth to apologize before that look clears into something so saccharine and fake, it makes Shen Qingqiu’s teeth ache from looking at it. Luo Binghe beams at him, and says again, “Choose one.”
Fuck, why! What name can he give that will not end with his head cleanly removed from his shoulders?
“... I dare not.”
Luo Binghe smiles wider.
Deep in Shen Qingqiu’s body, a burning gnawing begins. It’s almost itchy at first, the feeling beginning at the edges of his stomach and liver. A thousand miniscule mouths start to bite.
Sweat breaks out over his forehead and back. The gnawing increases, so many of those little mouths feasting on his innards, the pain rapidly rising from that of a papercut, to that of a rather horrible stomach ache. Is this what it feels like for girls on their period?
Swaying in place, he lowers down to his knees, clutching his middle.
“Choose, Shizun.”
Through gritted teeth, he once again replies, “I dare not.”
With a simple flick of Luo Binghe’s fingers, the pain threshold surpasses even what he had endured in the Water Prison. Since that day, the parasites have had a happy and healthy host in which to multiply. Naturally, his body has become their home, and they have grown to bursting inside of him, every red blood cell cozily hosting the parasites. And now his blood turns against him.
The pain – it’s beyond comprehension.
His vision sparks white, then goes black, agony searing through him as a thousand, thousand little mites devour him from the inside. Dimly, through the ringing in his ears, he can hear someone screaming.
Everything feels so distinctly clear inside of him, the lining of his stomach being ripped and torn by a flood of parasites living within him. Mouthful by mouthful, he is carefully devoured.
Hot blood and shredding pain meld until he’s sure everything inside him has turned to liquid, insides chewed up and spat out, nothing but a soupy mess left where he once had organs and bones.
He thinks for a moment that if he takes his hands away from his stomach, everything inside will come pouring out.
The screaming hasn’t stopped.
It goes on, and on, and on, and Shen Qingqiu wonders if he really is going to die here after all.
When the torture finally stops, Shen Qingqiu almost doesn’t realize it. He swears he can feel the parasites squirming and writhing around inside of him, phantom mouths biting still. He rolls on the ground, shuddering and shivering, sweating horribly.
Luo Binghe stares down at him. The core of his eyes is freezing and cold, yet the feeling it gives off is scorching. “Shizun, after all of your fascinated glances, you really won’t say a name? Is there no lady of mine that Shizun finds attractive enough to take to bed?”
How can he dare to say any name?! Isn’t that just as bad as signing his own death warrant?
In the novel, Luo Binghe had been more jealously protective over his wives than anything else.
Their affections soothed both his heart and body, keeping his qi balanced and sanity intact, as well as providing him a long-sought love that he had been deprived of since childhood.
Though he hadn’t been truly happy in the end, at least the wives allowed him to achieve a sort of catharsis.
Shen Qingqiu keeps quiet, panting raggedly with a torn and bloody throat.
Another flick of Luo Binghe’s fingers bring back the biting mouths, eating at his lungs now, deep enough in that he swears when he exhales, blood comes out with it.
“Say a name!” Luo Binghe demands harshly.
Through sweat and tears blurring his vision, his entire face feeling wet and hot as those tears spill down his cheeks, Shen Qingqiu turns his wavering gaze up at Luo Binghe’s angelic face. Throat trembling in pain, Shen Qingqiu tries to say, Binghe. It comes out as a wet gurgle, only his lips forming the word.
The torture immediately stops, the blood parasites scattering like frightened birds back into his bloodstream.
“What?”
Shen Qingqiu curls up, shivering and shaking. “B...in…he….”
A surprising notification pops up:
[ Protagonist Satisfaction Points: +150! ]
Good lord. Can this be considered another grinding opportunity…? He hasn't received any Satisfaction Points when being tortured before.
That said, Shen Qingqiu really doesn’t want these kinds of points, thank you!! What a horrible precedent to set! Refund, please refund it.
Luo Binghe drops to his knees and gathers Shen Qingqiu against him with desperate hands. The look on his face is indescribable, full of a dark, hot emotion that Shen Qingqiu dare not try to name.
“Shizun, Shizun…” Luo Binghe says hurriedly, eyes boiling red, corners of his mouth turned up in an uncontrollable, wild smile. “Shizun, this disciple was wrong. I was only playing with you a little. It’s alright, this disciple was wrong, so don’t be mad…”
Gentle hands are suddenly on him, stroking all over his neck and face, pushing hair out of the way, wiping tears away, and massaging strained muscles. A soothing, syrupy feeling sinks into him. That feeling goes down his torn throat, golden and warm like honey, soaking in and numbing the pain.
His breathing slowly eases and the taste of iron slowly ebbs away, swallowing no longer feeling as if needles were embedded all the way down.
Unbidden, his eyes drift shut, suddenly exhausted. The hands cradling him wrap around his shoulders and tug him deeper into Luo Binghe’s arms.
“Say that name again, Shizun,” Luo Binghe urges, lightly squeezing him in a hug. “Say that name you chose.”
What the fuck is he on about…
Confused, light-headed, and very sleepy, he asks, “Binghe?”
Luo Binghe shivers all over, from head to toe, and exhales with a satisfied sound.
“Good, Shizun,” Luo Binghe coos at him nonsensically, holding him so gently one would think Shen Qingqiu were made from the most delicate china. “Good, just like that, stay here in my arms. I’ll take care of you. So please don’t worry, this disciple won’t tease you anymore.”
Shen Qingqiu stops caring and promptly passes out.