Ruthlessness, rats, and gods

by Frozt

Summary:

To Shen Yuan he was a friend, even though Cucumber knew better than to say that out loud. Or to get on Airplane's bad side.

To Luo Binghe he was an annoying presence that he had to tolerate, though the Emperor was aware of his Shishu's many, many, secrets.

To Mobei-jun he was his eyes and dagger in the shadows, his heart, his everything.

But the reality was that, under all his ratlike facade, Airplane was the ruthlessness of a God incarnated.

Pity no one survived to tell the tale.

 

or: Shang Qinghua rescues Mobei-jun from a series of wannabe villains and plot devices by using his brain, charms, and rage.

Notes:

• Translation into Español available: Crueldad, ratas, y dioses by Congeladoz (Frozt)

This is my first longer fic and also my first MoShang. Oh boy, this was pure torture but so much fun to write.

For Anny_Franny, her amazing prompt, and the glory of team Hamhua. Enjoy!!

Chapter 1: Poison

Shen Qingqiu glanced around the beautifully arranged table. Dishes rested on diamond-cut ice trays, while ivory narwhal seal skins hung from the tables, embroidered with jewels that sparkled with blue iridescence. Mobei-jun's, Binghe's, and his chairs were crafted from obsidian stone, adorned with hand-carved brocades depicting legends from the region, showcasing master craftsmanship that spoke of the court's talent.

As uncomfortable as his seat was, even with all the layers he was wearing, Shen Qingqiu couldn't help but to be impressed by such a display of grandiosity. The ornaments truly showed off all the wealth of the Northern Desert, and no expense had been spared.

His jaw would have been on the floor if he were a common demon. And that was the case with most of the... guests . Eyes darted to the jewels and carvings, unashamedly and shamelessly devouring plate after plate of that exquisite feast. Their spotted paws dripping with the fat of prey, their widened smiles showing yellowish fangs as they drank non-stop and devoured exotic fruits brought from the human realm.

And how could they not be happy? Soon all that fortune would belong to their clan as well.

Shen Qingqiu looked around for Shang Qinghua. He found him standing with the servants in the background; his usual silver-embroidered clothes had been replaced by the typical attire of a common servant. Nothing about his austere hairstyle and clothing gave away his position as chief advisor. If Shen Qingqiu didn't know what to look for, he would blend into the background.

Shang Qinghua seemed strangely... calm, a perfectly professional, pleasant and helpful smile on his face. It sent shivers down Shen Qingqiu’s spine.  

His gaze went straight past to see the star of that banquet. The guest of honor. The very-possible-soon-to-be-bride. Sitting in Shang Qinghua's usual seat to the right of the King, long black hair fading to silver fell like a snowy trail down her back. A veil adorned with glittering jewels covered her features completely. No eyes, just the hint of eyebrows and the shadow of a nose. She looked like the OC of someone who had put together a Pinterest board of outfits and hadn't bothered to think of a face.

Mobei-jun didn't seem remotely interested, his gaze fixed on the plate in front of him without the slightest intention of touching it, answering her attempts at conversation with cutting monosyllables that cooled the temperature of the room.

Shen Qingqiu swallowed saliva. He knew Airplane wouldn't be so obvious (he was an idiot, but not stupid), if all the demons celebrating around him alive and kicking were any indication. However, and to Binghe's happiness, he carefully pushed his plate away, his portion untouched. He couldn't get the conversation he'd had with Shang Qinghua the day before out of his mind.

“Airplane, bro, at this rate you'll make a hole in the floor of the palace.”

Shen Qingqiu fanned himself in annoyance at the groan Shang Qinghua let out. Ever since that delegation had arrived a few days ago, arms pouring out gifts, sweet words and promises of union, Shang Qinghua's bad mood had only worsened. Trying to talk to him only led to a series of incoherent mutterings and insults that would get him banned from most virtual forums. Shen Qingqiu could almost see the thunderstorm cloud bearing down on his shoulders and shadowing his gaze.

And well, despite everything, he didn't blame him. It wasn't every day that the remnant of a discarded plot showed up at your door, pleading family treaties from who-knows-how-many-millennia ago, to steal your husbando/situationship.

Shang Qinghua would never shut up about how much he, in his words, wanted to, ahem, ‘ climb him like a cat up a Christmas tree’.

(“He is literally the man of my dreams”, he sighed, on one of his evenings of idleness and drinking alone in the bamboo hut. “My best creation... don't be angry, bro, I know you’ve been crushing hard on Binghe since before you died. Just hear me out.”

Shen Qingqiu ignored the comment outright and took another drink to hide his flushed cheeks.

“Tall, beautiful, with dark hair framing his sharp features that would only soften at the sight of something he liked. Those pecs... phew. Huge, soft and firm. I want to bury myself between them and never come out. And he's so cool. And cold. Emphasis on cold.”

“It sounds like you wanted to fuck your fridge.”

“Cucumber-bro, you have no idea what it's like to suffer through the summer with a computer that overheats like it has a built-in infernal summoning circle. I would have given anything to hug something cold. Or suck it ...")

If the poor guy wasn't already rolling in his misery like a worm on the hook, Shen Qingqiu would beat him up for deleting a political treaty plot where the emphasis was on PIDW's magic system. The basis was great, it had left him wanting to read on to catch all the little crumbs of lore... only for most of it to be worse executed than a game of DnD put together 5 minutes before the session.

“Only you would forget an entire clan of demons specializing in talismans and seals, and a full marriage pact signed with your King's ancestors.”

“It was one of my discarded ideas!!!! That whole pact thing didn't even make it out of the brainstorming phase before even the first clean draft. I reused the girl as one of my son's wives, no. 321 or 324 or something.”

“The 323rd in fact, from the winter solstice special,” Shen Qingqiu corrected him, annoyed, hitting him with his fan. “One of your more generic ones. You didn't even describe her face, you shitty author.”

Shang Qinghua gave up his mission to dig a tunnel with the friction of his feet and dropped onto the couch beside Shen Qingqiu.

“It's not fair, bro. Just when I think I'm making some progress over here... this happens,” he gesticulated to the sky with the helplessness of a doomed man.

 “The perfect bride, they will have 2.5 beautiful Mobei heirs with their snow and ice powers, the perfect ending to the lonely side character arc. Congratulations, congratulations, congratulations, good things must be said three times.”

“...”

As if anticipating Shen Qingqiu's attempt to reason, Shang Qinghua turned around and replied reluctantly. “The clan elders would gain too much power from the agreement. He asked me to poke around to see if there was any way to dodge the pact. That doesn't scream 'happy groom' in my humble opinion.”

“Well...” Shen Qingqiu covered his face with his fan, “I can always tell Binghe to step in and cancel the marriage for him. It's not like they can protest a direct order from the emperor, no matter how many magical ancestral pacts they have.”

Shang Qinghua's eyes went, in an instant, from a sea of dark sadness to shining as if he had been promised a cup of coffee. They reminded him so much of Binghe's when he stroked his head that he felt a chill.

“My only bro, the cucumber of my heart,” Shang Qinghua put his hand to his chest, wiping away a fake tear. “You are the best. Just for that alone I'm thankful I didn't write that extra MoBing chapter...”

The fan’s wood cracked.

“...But I think I'll deal with this on my own.” He added, narrowly dodging the object Shen Qingqiu had thrown at him.

“So, what are you even going to do? bury them in paperwork until they die of boredom? cling to the rep's thighs and cry to him until he leaves? poison them with some of your thousands of useless papapa plants?”

Shang Qinghua's mouth curved into a sly smirk. “Actually... that gives me a better idea.”

______________

 

Shen Qingqiu saw the carriages leaving from his window, loaded to the brim. He himself had glanced at the huge list of treasures: skins of strange creatures, hunting trophies, tonics that helped with qi, and various fresh fruits and goods from the human realm.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Nothing was remotely lethal, or poisonous. Quite the opposite.

Too normal.

Even more than normal. The sheer amount of grapefruits Airplane had ordered would be enough for the whole village to feast on when the delegation returned. It was the perfect picture of a goodwill gift.

Did Airplane give up for the sake of diplomacy?

The very idea was so ridiculous that it gave him whiplash. He knew Airplane, and had heard enough of his horny rants to know that was impossible. However, everything pointed to the contrary. Shang Qinghua had even personally given the bride's caravan a portion of the fruits for the road, highlighting like a Herbalife salesman the health benefits.

Shen Qingqiu didn't need to wait that long for his doubts to be solved.

It was a little over a week later, just as he and Binghe were preparing to return to their duties at the imperial palace. Rumors began to ripple through the castle's residents with the energy of a forest fire. It seemed as if someone had turned on a water tap in the middle of a drama-thirsty crowd.

He picked up fragments scattered here and there, low chatter among servants in the middle of the corridors. Poorly hidden speculations among courtly folk at mealtimes. Concerns of elders disguised behind casual commentary.

“... collective deviation of Qi...”.

“...a spell gone wrong, after the celebratory banquet...”

“...they all dropped dead like flies...”

“...not even with all the qi tonics...”

“...the lineage has become so weak that they can't handle their own power? What a disappointment...”

There was one word surprisingly absent from everyone's mouth.

No one had mentioned poison. Nor was there any suspicion of outside interference or that it was a premeditated attack. Only natural causes were mentioned. A “great tragedy,” they said, citing internal disputes, weakness, etc etc etc... Shen Qingqiu would eat his fan if Airplane wasn't involved in some way.

Too fortuitous. Too convenient.

Interrogating the aforementioned didn’t lead him in any particular direction either. Finding him in the first place took forever, always missing him by a hair's breadth as another servant apologized instead, claiming how busy Shang Qinghua was with the preparations, how sorry he was that he couldn’t attend Shen Qingqiu’s call at that moment.

Bullshit . He knew when someone was avoiding him.

Shen Qingqiu finally managed to corner him in his quarters, digging him out of a pile of paperwork that overflowed from side to side. Dark circles under his eyes highlighted Airplane’s gaunt eyes. At least he wasn’t lying about being too busy. Shen Qingqiu felt a hint of sympathy for him, which was extinguished as soon as he remembered what he was there to do.

Shang Qinghua returned his accusatory gaze with big puppy dog eyes and a confused blink. The vivid picture of innocence.

“Such things happen brother. At least it looks like for once the god of this world is giving me a bit of a good luck boost” he said, shrugging.

 

______________

 

“Shen-shidi, what brings you here today?” Mu Qingfang asked, somewhat surprised, looking up from his desk. “You're not the type to make surprise visits.”

Shen Qingqiu took out a vial of the tonic from his sleeve, and a fresh grapefruit. Mu Qingfang picked up the vial and raised an eyebrow.

“Junshang is having trouble with the flow of qi? This tonic is quite potent.”

“Ahem, someone in the court had a qi deviation, and I suspect it is due to this tonic or these fruits he consumed. You see, this master had an inquiry to make to you regarding the ingredients...”

Shang Qinghua might be more slippery than wet soap in a communal shower, but Shen Qingqiu wasn't about to give up. It's not like he cared about that particular tribe or the Northern negotiations, but he wasn't going to let Shang Qinghua gaslight him.

He denied everything so intensely that he thought his head was going to pop off with all the shaking. And Shen Qingqiu didn't have much evidence besides his gut feeling.

Shang Qinghua had never left the castle at any time, always running from place to place with multiple witnesses and loaded with work. Shen Qingqiu knew there was no other way to teleport that didn't involve Mobei-jun or Xin Mo, and there was no evidence of an attack anyway. He had checked the gifts himself. Not a trace of poison.

What was he missing?

He went through Shang Qinghua's paperwork and found the original list of items gifted to the caravan. Although it listed the ingredients and effects of the various artifacts for security purposes, no matter how much he read and reread, nothing seemed out of place.

Qi tonics, an absurd amount of grapefruit, more qi tonics, lots more grapefruit... Strange choice, considering they were not in season. The guests had eaten several at the banquet, so it's not like it was their secret kryptonite or anything.

His eyes wandered over the piece of paper once more. He roughly remembered the tonic from one of the PIDW wife plots, designed to help enhance the effects of dual cultivation by keeping qi and blood pressure balanced, perfect for a weakened Bingge after a big battle carrying Xin Mo.

His blood was still boiling at the thought of it. A remote village with access to all sorts of rare ingredients from various parts of the demonic realm? A deus ex machina in a bottle, you damned hack author.

“Ice butterfly lily leaves from the central plains; magma mermaid blood from the southern volcanoes; hammerhead shark eel scales from the cursed swamp of the Abyss, how did they even get that?” he recited under his breath in annoyance, reading the components of the paper one by one. ”Ground bark of cinchona tree, from... from the human realm.”

He blinked and read again. There were five ingredients listed, not four.

He recognized the material because it was used in other medicines for purposes of improving blood and qi flow in minor sects. Mu Qingfang had even given him some pills when he had the Without-a-Cure problem (even if they didn't work very much in his case), so to assume that it had been added to reinforce the effects was not strange.

Shen Qingqiu brushed the paper with his fingers. Grapefruit and quinine, the only elements a little out of the ordinary. Grapefruit and quinine...

“If they consumed this fruit and any medicine extracted from the cinchona tree within a very close time, there is no mystery regarding their qi deviation.” Mu Qingfang put down the tonic on the table and grabbed the fruit with a frown. “Both ingredients are very beneficial to health, but together they cause heart problems and, in these quantities, would certainly induce lethal qi deviation.” 

Oh.

Oh.

Airplane, you bastard.

Shen Qingqiu was going to strangle him.

Notes:

SQQ: *hits him with his fan** That's plagiarism!!!!

SQH: What can I say, being an otaku pays off :)

Chapter 2: Magic

Shang Qinghua drew his sword, the blade gleaming cold as crimson ice. In one clean motion, he slashed the small being in front of him in two. 

The blade came out clean, and the snow around it remained pristine. What a few moments ago seemed like a child barely let out a sound, the exhalation of demonic qi leaving it. In a few moments it melted into a pile of dirty snow, mixed with strands of dark hair and pieces of an old robe stained with dried blood.

Mobei-jun felt a great weight lifted from his shoulders. His vision cleared, the hammering pain in his head and the tiredness in his limbs disappeared. The shackle on his voice vanished with an exhalation. Escaping from the cursed puppet that had drained him since his arrival in the village, his strength roared within him once more.

Shang Qinghua was still standing there, his sword unsheathed. Mobei-jun saw him look away from the pitiful pile of remains to look at the rest of the demonic clan gathered there. The few who had not fallen to their knees before were now on the ground, pleading and whimpering for what sounded like clemency in their unintelligible tongue. 

The sign of a culprit.

Pathetic.  

“A binding curse...” Shang Qinghua kicked the remains of the pile, revealing the talisman in the center. He stabbed it with his qi-infused sword, and let the ashes blow away in the wind. “What a dirty trick.” 

“Mercy...” someone pleaded.

“You dared to try to set a trap for my King, to gloat in his face. To try to control him like a puppet. To drain him to feed that cursed thing until it was a replica of him. To try to get your filthy hands into the court of the North,” Shang Qinghua said, his voice in the low tone of icy anger. “I- We've had enough.”

He took a step to the side, ensheathing his sword. The villagers cast confused glances at him amid their whimpers, which turned to terror as they saw Mobei-jun rise from the throne where he was sitting, free again.

The shadows and ice swallowed the screams.

 

______________

 

It was supposed to be something simple. Another day, another diplomatic mission to accomplish on behalf of Junshang.

The frozen ruins of the village lying around Mobei-jun said otherwise.

Until just hours before it was a normal village on the border of the Northern Desert. They were causing too much trouble for the inland and southern traders passing through the valley, and he had to remind them of their place before the bickering escalated into open rebellion. 

He had done that many times throughout all corners of the Empire. Arrive, threaten, leave. Rinse and repeat. This time would have to be no different... except that it was.

Shang Qinghua had been acting strange ever since he saw the location on the map. He usually told him in spades everything there was a need to know about the places he was going. He knew what to say, what to do, what to avoid.

This time, however, he hadn't uttered a word beyond mumbling between his teeth with the venomous hiss of insults. His usual nervousness in his presence had been replaced by a fixed stare at the map marking their destination, as if he wanted to set it on fire with his mind and spit on the ashes. 

At that moment Mobei-jun had mentally wondered what was wrong with the village for Qinghua to act as if his existence was a personal offense.

And now he knew. 

As soon as he set foot in the place, Mobei-jun could feel his energy slowly draining out of him. His limbs felt heavy, the senses so subtly dulled that he first attributed it to natural exhaustion from using his powers on the valley's warmer climate.

It would pass on its own in a few hours.

He was wrong.

When the clan leaders sat down to negotiate, all Mobei-jun wanted was to return to the castle to bury his head in an icy bath. His vision was blurry, his ear was permanently buzzing, and his mood was at rock bottom. His body was estranged, his movements limited, voice dying in his throat and his face refused to take on any expression other than annoyed, cold indifference. 

He was having a hard time concentrating on what the translator they brought with them, a servant with family connections to the village, was saying. Her honeyed words and all false formalities felt like needles, increasing the painful beating in his temples.

He contemplated the possibility of simply digging his claws into the wrinkled throats of those assembled. Subdue them with fear and blood. Losing the trade route was almost worth it to wipe the smug smile off the village leader's face.

Junshang would be angry, but he would let it pass. He shifted his gaze, looking sideways at the man standing to his right in the shadows of his seat.

Shang Qinghua was looking down, an azure glow at the edge of his irises. His brow was deeply furrowed, his hands curled into firm fists. His entire posture exuded hostility.

The leader opened his mouth again, and Mobei-jun heard an angry breath next to him almost instantly.

Shang Qinghua stepped forward, cutting the translator off abruptly before she could say another word. He slipped the perfect mask of diplomatic friendliness on his face with a neutral smile. To the surprise of everyone present but Mobei-jun, he replied in the same tongue with perfect accent and cadence, his tone laced with poisonous disdain even for those who didn't understand what he was saying.

Qinghua never ceased to amaze him, Mobei-jun thought proudly.

Shang Qinghua swept through the negotiations. It felt like a verbal battle, no, a one-sided massacre on their part. The mask of confidence and arrogance of the leaders and all their companions fell piece by piece to reveal their vulnerable and awkward insides. Whatever he was telling her, it left many gasping in surprise and with their eyes popping out of their sockets.

The translator also smelled of fear, and even with his head in a bad state, Mobei-jun could conclude the reason.

Qinghua is going to have to do some cleaning up after this.

He tried to intervene, but his tongue felt like a lead weight in his mouth, his limbs fixed like shackles. It was not a good sign.

“My King...”

Shang Qinghua turned around to look at him, possibly to ask his opinion on a matter, but something in Mobei-jun's face must have indicated his situation because his eyes flickered in silent crimson anger before turning away with a grim expression. It reminded him of Junshang.

Mobei-jun couldn't take his eyes off him. The words sounded like the hissing of a snake about to strike as it came from Shang Qinghua's lips. He looked like a master conductor, moving the baton to direct at will all those present with just his mere words. 

One by one, trembling, the crowd fell to the ground in a sobbing, pleading mess.

Shang Qinghua wielded the aura of a sovereign. 

No, of a god.  

Notes:

*EPIC music intensifies*

Chapter 3: Spies

 

The evidence in Shang Qinghua's chambers in the palace spilled out of every drawer and hidden corner. Barely hidden in plain sight, easy to find if you knew what you were looking for.

Luo Binghe might be impulsive, but he wasn't stupid.

It was too obvious, too easy.

It took him longer, but he found the real secret hiding places. Camouflaged as books, stacks of paperwork and a removable board in a section of the ceiling. All empty. A hint of residual qi told him that Shang Qinghua had been alerted and would be there at any moment. Anyone with eyesight less sharp than his would never even notice.

He caught the sound of footsteps in the distance and stepped out of the room to hide in the shadows. There was no place to do so inside; the furniture had been arranged so that everything was visible from the desk, and there was only one likely entrance. If anyone snuck in, they would be trapped.

But this wasn't Luo Binghe's palace for nothing at all.

Shang Qinghua appeared much earlier than expected, his footsteps deceptively soft. Not a hint of his usual nervousness and slippery attitude on his grim face.

He was serious, his darkened face hidden by his bangs. He circled the room, his steps dodging the placed objects and paperwork in a pattern that looked like a practiced dance.

One of the papers fell from where it was balanced. Shang Qinghua carefully picked it up; Luo Binghe caught a glimpse of a talisman attached to the back.

He advanced to the empty wall near his bed. Luo Binghe had checked it without finding anything. There was nothing in place, devoid of decoration, outside of the sad-looking painted paper hanging miserably in one corner and all the paperwork cluttering every available surface.  

Shang Qinghua pulled his brush from where he kept it in his hair and stuck it through a small hole at the wall's base. One of the wallboards moved with a snap, revealing a secret hiding place filled with notes and drawings that Luo Binghe recognized as some servants nailed in the small space, pointing at each other with red thread.

Despite the apparent chaos and confusing handwriting, mixed with round symbols and lines he didn't recognize, there was a system; an order and an elusively clear hierarchy that guided everything.

"How many of these nooks and crannies does he have, hidden all over the place?" he thought, clutching the small vial of poison in his hand. The same he had found a few days ago in the ingredients he wanted to use to cook for his husband.

The latest incident in a short but alarming line of attempts on his life.

Anger boiled up inside him just remembering it. Even if they were pathetic and futile, someone had the guts to try and ruin Shizun's meals.

And it had all led him to the man he was sneakily observing.

It didn't make any sense. As much as it made him taste vinegar in his mouth, he knew that his Shishu's relationship with Shizun was very close. He had heard them talking sometimes, when they thought no one was around. Even when Shizun would scream at him and chase him with his fan, there was always a smile at the corner of his mouth, the laughter beneath the yells and the begging for mercy.

They had a bond that was hard to put into words, as if they shared much more than being Peak Lords and coming from the same hometown.

Until now, it had never occurred to him to question his Shishu’s loyalty.  

There was also the incident of the collective qi deviation from the clan that had the marriage agreement with his general. Shen Qingqiu had argued with Shang Qinghua shortly thereafter, more severely than his usual criticisms of writing or whatever they spoke in that unfamiliar language they both shared.  

Anyone who had met him should be able to connect the dots.

Luo Binghe knew that Shang Qinghua had managed to wipe out, without a trace, an entire village that “threatened” to undermine Mobei-jun's authority in the north with a marriage concreted by the clan elders. Within a couple of days, almost all of them died without leaving a single piece of evidence connecting him, or any trace of how he had done it.

Shang Qinghua only acted for Mobei-jun's benefit. He had never expressed a desire for more, nor had he ever lifted a finger out of his place as a servant and advisor to do things for his own benefit.

He knew that Mobei-jun had no ambitions beyond his place on the throne of the North. Despite his tough exterior, his motivations were easy to read once you coexisted with him long enough.  

So, why?

Shang Qinghua left the room, disappearing into the nearby corridors.

With his mind weighing all those puzzling thoughts, Luo Binghe slipped out to follow him, cloaked by the darkness.

 

______________

 

His Shishu lived up to his rat nickname. Luo Binghe had never met a more elusive person.

For all his skills, he almost lost him several times in the web of corridors and among secret passages. He moved with the fluidity of someone who knows what he is doing, someone who knows his surroundings like the back of his hand.

Luo Binghe approached, bottle in hand. In the blink of an eye, the edge of Shang Qinghua's sword pressed against his throat.

Luo Binghe looked at the man he knew more as Mobei-jun's eager shadow than as his Shishu. For a brief moment, he thought he was looking at himself in the mirror.

The same crimson emptiness of one who had seen too much and suffered much more. The same passion of one who would sacrifice anyone and anything for the one he loves. The same darkness that stared back at him in the Abyss.

As quickly as it came, it disappeared. Recognition flooded Shang Qinghua's face as the blood left it. He lowered his sword immediately, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water as he tried to utter coherent words.

“So... Shishu.” Luo Binghe took a step and then another, cornering Shang Qinghua against the wall, his voice soft as the sound of a rattlesnake. “You have more backbone than I thought, threatening this Lord.”

“This humble servant begs for your forgiveness, he thought he was being followed by one of the culprits!” Shang Qinghua cried, cowering on the ground like a worm. From one of his pockets rolled out a jar identical to the one Luo Binghe had found in the room.

Luo Binghe twirled the little bottle of poison between his fingers. Shang Qinghua's eyes widened further, his gaze alternating between the two pieces of very incriminating evidence.

“I... eh.... That's not mine.” At Luo Binghe's raised eyebrow, he doubled the strength of his denials. “I swear it and I can prove it, Your Majesty!!!"

The sound of footsteps in the distance echoed down the hallway, silencing the pleas and chatter of pitiful excuses from the little man at his feet.

Luo Binghe looked away for just a second, trying to see who was approaching in the darkness. In an instant, Shang Qinghua bolts from where he had him cornered against the wall. Despite the size difference, he grabs him by the robes from behind and pulls him down, hiding them both in the shadows just in time. All in one fluid motion; a show of strength that left Luo Binghe questioning what else he didn't know about the man.  

“Shhh,” Shang Qinghua hushed him.

The emotions of the demons burned with an intensity that eclipsed that of humans. Every good and evil received, they would return it amplified by a hundredfold.

Shang Qinghua was about to know how intensely an Emperor's anger burned.

Luo Binghe used every ounce of his willpower not to bury his claws and rip out his heart there and now as punishment for his impudence. Were it not for the fact that his husband would be saddened (and Mobei-jun too, he reminded himself) by his death, he would leave Shang Qinghua's body there rotting in the dark.

Before he could decide the best way to break him into a thousand pieces for his insolence (maybe tear off an arm… better a leg, Shizun likes to read his work and can't do it without his arms), two figures passed by the entrance to their hiding spot.

Their footsteps were permeated with a very familiar sweetish scent: the same poison that lay in the two vials he had taken from Shang Qinghua.

“Did you get it?” one of them said, rubbing his hands together nervously. Luo Binghe vaguely recognized his face as one of the servants assigned to attend to Mobei-jun and other guests.

Nodding, the shorter one took out a square packet. The sweetish smell intensified: they were the flowers from which the poison was extracted. “Yes, I saw Junshang head all the way to that human filth's quarters. He will soon find the poison. There will be no way for him to get out of this one, especially after all the incidents with Consort Shen.”

“The way Consort Shen behaves every time he meets that rat, I'm surprised he hasn't asked the Emperor to serve his head on a platter by now.”

“Mobei-jun's affection protects him,” the short demon said in disgust. “The rat does nothing but weaken him and he doesn't realize it... but after this no more. Betrayal is paid for in blood. Normal extract would do nothing to a demon with his power, but fresh flowers? It will be seen as a serious attempt.”

His companion hid the package in his sleeve. “Mobei-jun will finally be rid of the human trash that pollutes his court.”

“And Consort Shen will soon follow the same path...”

 

______________

 

The wall behind Luo Binghe creaked under his claws, liquid anger burning in his veins. That lowlife scum dared to threaten his husband in his own palace, under his nose?

Betrayal is paid for with more than blood. Oh, how he was going to enjoy breaking those faces with screamless agony, limb by limb, making their bones crunch and bend one by one until not a drop of blood remained....

A squeeze on his arm brought him out of his daydreaming. Shang Qinghua's hand felt like an iron press, his grip firm with the force not of fear, but of rage. Blood dripped from his other hand. He had pressed his nails so hard against his palm that the skin broke.

Without a word, he moved forward in the same direction in which the traitors left. Watching him out of the corner of his eye, Luo Binghe followed close behind.

They walked another maze-like section without deviating. Although it was equal parts abandoned and infested with the occasional servant, Shang Qinghua seemed to know the way and predict when someone was approaching without fail. Before alerting him with a sign or hiding, his gaze would wander to a point above him with a frown.

Just as Shizun did before his gaze soured and pushed him into the Abyss. Just like in the Water Prison. Just like that time he tried to ask him about his past.

The same azure glint in his eyes, a rectangular glint in the cornea that disappeared in the blink of an eye.

Who are you, Shang Qinghua?

 

______________

 

 LBH knew three things about his shishu. First, he was a coward.

 “A single petal causes dizziness” Shang Qinghua said, grinning from ear to ear. He dropped it straight down the throat of the weeping demon tied at his feet.

 Second, what he lacked in courage, he made up for in unscrupulous treachery.

 “With the second one comes the blood.” The tears on the servant's face turned red, unintelligible pleas replaced by choking coughs as a trail of blood escaped from the corner of their mouth.

  And the third...

 “With the third one...” the demon convulsed in an agonized lump. Their mouth opened to let out one last voiceless gasp, one last attempt to beg for mercy, before going limp. “Tsk, I forgot how strong I made this plant.”

The man in front of him embodied a side he had never thought Shang Qinghua had. Cunning, cruelty, a touch of sadism. His eyes reflected his reddish gaze.

Side by side, they were finishing off all the traitors gathered there, leaving only a couple alive in case they needed more information. Luo Binghe surprised himself by enjoying watching the maggots twitching next to his Shishu. It was surprising how easy it was to come to a mutual understanding when the man stopped gibbering for five minutes.  

It was as if Shang Qinghua had known him for a long time. The way he interacted with him nearby, putting aside the fear of not keeping his head on his shoulders, was one of deep familiarity.

The way he always seemed to know the weakness of whomever he faced. His ability to kill an entire village without a trace (and who knows how many other deaths they would have on his record). To be able to survive in a court full of demons who want him dead, always hiding in Mobei-jun's shadow even in plain sight, watching over him. The strange blue glow in his eyes as he flawlessly predicted every approaching enemy.

The symphony of screams around them died down after a while. Standing among the bodies, none with two matching demises (who would think the combined wrath of an Abyss survivor and a writer could go so far?) Shang Qinghua lay with his robe dripping blood, torchlight flickering against his hair like ruby drops, stepping in death as if he had been doing this all his life.

Luo Binghe sheathed his sword. Was this what Mobei-jun had seen in him when everyone else was blinded?

The emotions of the demons burned with an intensity that eclipsed that of humans. Every good and evil received, they would return it amplified a hundredfold.

But what is a mere human, a demon, or an Emperor, to a God?

Notes:

Like father, like son. All of Bingge's (and therefore, Binghe's) *everything* had to come from somewhere, right? :)

Chapter 4: +1 Death itself

 

“...My King?” Shang Qinghua knocked again. Silence was his only answer. The same one Shang Qinghua had been getting 3 days in a row.  

The royal chamber was still empty, the bed as made as the last day the servants arranged it. The mess of maps untouched on the table. No one had entered in all that time.

It was normal for Mobei-jun to sometimes be absent for a couple of days without saying anything more than an occasional “I'll be back,” and “Qinghua is in charge.”

Shang Qinghua wanted to tear his bun off from sheer stress. Him in charge?? It wasn't like he was the head servant or the consort, he already had plenty on his plate. He didn't need to have to babysit with the occasional delegation or have to deal with pesky demons because the king of the North wasn't available to attend to them.  

The list of postponed disputes could cover the throne hall. And yet his King had the gall to open a portal and go off to who-knows-where without informing him of anything.

And now, on top of that, he was taking much longer than usual to return.

Perfect, wonderful, splendid; good things must be said three times.

Shang Qinghua dedicated a minute of silence to his poor back, because as soon as his King returned, he was going to drop the corpse of his last hunt on him, leaving him alone to deal with the trophy's carcass.

Yes, sometimes his King would come back to pick up a few pieces and make him noodles that would make Gordon Ramsey beg for mercy, but being a culinary guinea pig wasn't enough payment for all the effort. Less so when lately he was obsessed with hunting every monster that roamed the far reaches of the North.

Cucumber's complaints about the dangers of indiscriminate hunting of certain rare creatures still hammered in his head.

“Not even a goodbye this time,” he muttered, dropping another stack of paperwork to be reviewed on the table in the room. “I don't know why I bother...” Mobei-jun was going to look at all of that exactly once before handing it back to him.

He smiled a little before frowning again. Knowing that his King trusted his judgment made him feel warm inside, but all the extra unceremonious burden made him want to scream in frustration.

This is what happens when you let your boss exploit you. The reward for a job well done? More work.

He stared at the map art for a while as if they might give him a clue to his King's whereabouts. He couldn't help but worry a little, even though he was well aware that Mobei-jun was in perfect condition. He wrote the fucker with the closest thing to a protagonist's halo he could give his favorite character: brain cells... at least on paper. The way Mobei-jun used them made him believe they had already frozen to death.

He reluctantly dusted off a bit of the very thin film of dirt that had accumulated on the table, annoyed by some ink smudges on the surface of the larger map. Cucumber was going to hang him if he found out that one of the few maps with precise locations of the known monsters of the demonic realm was a little filthy.

This wasn't the modern world, please, these have to be drawn by hand!!! And the ink just smudged the locations of the monsters? Forget choking, Cucumber-bro was going to tie him to a chair Clockwork Orange style and force him to....

Wait. Shang Qinghua squinted, the location of the ink drops on the map looked familiar. Six-fanged scorpion mammoth... feathered winged snake... two-tailed scaled otter... those were all monsters Mobei-jun had brought back those days.

Shang Qinghua held up the map, mentally going over and over the list of creatures that had landed on him and stained his paperwork the past few days. There was a pattern. He traced it with his fingers, connecting the zigzagging route to a point in the sheer west. An area of rocky cliffs that gave way to two mountain ranges that isolated the North from the midlands.

The place where Luo Binghe had come out of the Abyss using Xin Mo. A place where the barrier between realms had weakened, and some things leaked out.

He made a mental calculation of the time-line. Considering that his son had come out a couple of years earlier and had been on the throne for....

Oh.

Oh no.

The map fell from his hand, rolling across the floor until it was lost under a piece of furniture. Shang Qinghua backed up a couple of steps and rushed like a hurricane out of the room.

His King was in danger.

 

______________

 

Wu Renshan could not believe her luck. She pulled the rope just to hear the human tied to the end sob again. He was short and looked a bit thin, but promised to be a prime snack nonetheless.

Humans were a complete rarity, especially around those parts. She had only seen a couple before, skinny little things falling down some rift in the Abyss and seeking shelter in the tunnels of their colony, thinking they were caves. Last time she had only managed to taste a small piece, but her jaws clicked with excitement at the new opportunity. 

She considered just eating it by herself for a few seconds, but this one had a bit more meat than the others and would make an excellent offering for the Queen. She might even get promoted!!!! Xu Wushi's bootlicker ass would get so mad.

“Wh-where are you taking me?” the man asked between sobs.  

Wu Renshan waved her antennae, a little surprised that she could understand him. But she shrugged, downplaying it. Who knew what kind of tricks humans had come up with since the last time she saw one?

She gave the rope another yank.  

“You will make an excellent offering for our Queen, in honor of the new generations that will hatch soon.”

The human looked at her with his pretty reddish-brown eyes shining in terror. Wu Renshan couldn't wait to pluck them out and give them a little taste.

“I heard rumors that they recently captured a Demon King from the inland. Apparently he put up quite a fight, but our queen knows how to make wild prey bend the knee. Anyway, we capture demons every day, you'll be the centerpiece of the feast.  

She didn't miss her prisoner's loud gasp and continued her way, humming happily.

 

______________

 

“You should lock him up and let him rot, that way he'll have more flavor” commented another of her friends.  

“You just want to be able to take a bite before you give it to the Queen.” Wu Renshan put an accusatory claw on Xu Wushi's chest.

“She's still going to kill it and leave it to rot while the new generation hatches, I'm just telling you to save yourself a step!” he replied, slapping her claw away.

“And have that ice demon you helped capture steal the show? Not a chance.”

“At least that one did take effort to capture” he growled, pointing to one of the missing sections of one of his thoracic limbs.

“Mine could be a cultivator.” Wu Renshan said smugly.

“That one? Ha, My right wingtip has more power than him in that whole squishy little body. He's just a poor sucker who tripped and rolled down to your feet. I'd be surprised if he's still alive in a couple of hours, with all the demonic energy in our tunnels.”

“You-“

“What Xu Wushi didn't want to tell you”, another of her friends interrupted, pulling them apart, “is that the Queen announced that she's going to let the ice demon die from the poison, just in case. No use taking a bite just to end up with stomach pains... and that's why you should let your human decompose a bit too. No one knows what he's got.”

After a few more protests, an agreement was reached. They threw the human into a small cell while they decided whether to eat him raw or ripe, and almost everyone disappeared into the tunnels to make their respective reports.  

No one saw the crimson glow in the locked man's eyes.

 

______________

 

Xiu Lin sighed, leaning against the cell door. Everyone else could go off to gain glory by capturing humans and demon kings, but it was her turn to guard the loot.

Please, he was just a wimpy human. He couldn't take two steps without collapsing on his own feet. Escape from there? Ha. This was just wasting her time.

Said loot was a crybaby that kept making annoying little noises from time to time. It didn't help that the smell was so appetizing. Deep, earthy. It reminded her a lot of some of the abyssal wood her clan sometimes got to eat. Her antennae twitched as she remembered the taste.

She peered into the darkness at the prisoner. His toasted honey-colored hair fell, framing his tearful face with soft curls. Somewhere along the way his blue robes had opened, exposing a strip of skin that glowed in the dim light of the cell like her own silver carapace.

He looked so vulnerable, so helpless.

The human caught her watching. He let out a little squeak of surprise (how adorable) and most of his robe slipped off, exposing his chest dotted with freckles like sun drops, the line of his collarbone and his neck that quivered with every breath.

Xiu Lin's jaws clicked, her antennae stretching into the small space.

“I have never... seen anything like you.” The human broke the silence, his voice a mixture of wonder and fright. “Your wings are huge, and your exoskeleton shines like the armor of a knight, no, a general ...”

Xiu Lin puffed out her chest, a feeling of warm happiness settling in her stomach. At least someone noticed how she polished her shell.

“I am one of the best warriors in our colony. This will be your last time before such a great being, human.” She lied, mimicking the smug tone of the veteran warriors.  

“May I... touch?” the human moved a little closer, as much as the bindings would allow, the blue fabric still hanging loosely on his shoulders.  

Xiu Lin bowed an antenna to him, the soft caress and glowing gaze sending another wave of warmth through her bod

“You are beautiful,” he praised her. Their gazes connected. “Very beautiful.”

For an instant, all was silent.

The door clicked open. Xiu Lin took a step, then a couple more, until she was facing the man.

The human wrapped his arms around her neck, drawing her close. His hands brushed her wings, and once again warmth rippled through her body. The human was more skilled than he looked. Well, who was she to deny him a good time before being devoured?  

She bent her jaws to press her face against the top of the human's head, wanting to inhale more of that woody scent that was driving her crazy. Would they get mad if he was missing a finger or two? A little snack as a reward for not letting him out of her sight. 

The human buried his face in the hollow of her neck as well, inhaling deeply. Xiu Lin slipped a claw inside the robe, wanting to finish pulling it off completely.

A wet crunching sound brought her out of her heated daze. She opened her mouth to say something, but her voice failed. The sweetness of the wood reeked from the cell, blending with the suffocating stench of iron. Something was wrong. Why couldn't she speak? Her wings were unresponsive. Her vision was blurring. Her legs weren't responding. Why was everything so dark? Everything was cold. The numbness spread, replacing the warmth she had felt with a dull aching pain, leaving her unable to move as everything shut down. 

She collapsed to the ground. The last thing she saw was the human spitting a piece of silvery flesh to the side (when did he break loose?), blood dripping from his mouth, before disappearing into the darkness of the tunnels.

 

______________

 

“What's going on?”

“There seems to be an intruder. Everything is full of smoke...”

“Just one? So much fuss over a single intruder? We have the advantage, we have the numbers and the might... Augh!!!”  

The point of a sword sticking out of his chest cut off his words. In an instant, the others fell as well.

 

______________

 

“We don't know where the intruder is, the patrols haven't found his trail. No one knows where he's coming from or where he's approaching.”

“He'll get lost in the tunnels and end up turning around pointlessly. We'll be able to ambush him.”

An unfamiliar voice spoke from behind them. “You think I wouldn't know your dirty tricks? I wrote them down.”

The echoing screams were all that came out of that cavern.

 

______________

 

“We have to go, he's aiming for the lights!!!” a soldier whispered to his companion amidst the acrid smoke burning his spiracles, pointing to several bodies surrounded by luminous fragments.

The figure beside him turned around. Everything was very dark, but he could make out the blood dripping down his brown hair, obscuring his face. The soldier swallowed saliva; he was missing his antennae, his legs, his wings...

Everything went black.

 

______________

 

A soldier took refuge in a hole in the wall, a niche set up to hide food or prepare in case of ambush. He was greeted by the edge of the blade impaling him.

“No matter where you hide, I will find you.”

 

______________

 

“Hey... do you hear that?” one of the guards whispered to the other. Down the hallway there was a strange echoing sound that gave him the chills. His instincts told him something was wrong. “We should go take a look...”

“Bah, must be some fight broke out, no big deal” his companion rolled his eyes dismissively. “You freak out about everything.”

“But our shift change should have come by now...”

“Worry if the noise is coming from inside,” he tapped one of his side legs on the door behind him mockingly. “The little ice prince could wake up at any moment. Although after our Queen herself injected him with her venom, I don't think he can do anything but die faster. Ah look, here comes Xu Wushi.”

The guard narrowed his eyes. Xu Wushi was walking slowly, swaying slightly in a strange way. His eyes looked glassy, his face was gaunt, and his arms drooped flaccidly at his flank.  

“R-run...” Xu Wushi fell forward, revealing his back split open in half. Behind him stood a shorter figure, cloaked by shadows.

Both guards grabbed their weapons. The figure cloaked in red and silver dropped a small object. In an instant, the entire hallway was filled with smoke.

“But what the...” said one of the guards, coughing uncontrollably. With each inhalation, the burning became worse. He couldn't see anything. He tried to swing his weapon, but it fell at his feet, split in half.  

“Catch me if you can~” a chuckle was heard.

The intruder appeared and disappeared in the shadows. Every attack the guard tried to deliver dissipated into smoke like an exhalation. Still, he kept attacking with his claws, blocking the attacks and returning them with more intensity, denting until he managed to draw blood. He wasn't a royal guard for nothing.  

He lunged for the throat, his jaws snapping his opponent's neck in two like a twig. His mouth filled with the salty taste of victory.

Except it wasn't. It tasted bitter and very familiar, not the reddish aftertaste of humans.

Horrified, the guard tried to step back and let go of his companion's decapitated body, but a dull pain in his chest stopped him. His friend's arm was stretched out in his direction, impaling his torso as he went for the final blow.

It had all been a trick.

 

______________

 

“My King?”

Lava flowed around the edges of the room, making it a stone furnace. Shang Qinghua's robes clung to his back from sweat in seconds, his eyes burning from dryness.

Standing, tied to an altar centered on the far wall, was Mobei-jun.

He still had the stance of a warrior, despite being covered in bites from the cursed silver-armored termite demons. The great mark of the Queen's jaws rested on his neck like a cursed necklace. Greenish lines stretched where the venom was flowing, leaving a sickly pale hue in its trail.

Shang Qinghua blocked the door behind his back with a talisman and ran towards him. He left a trail of false clues leading to the Queen's chambers, but it never hurts to be careful. He could not afford an ambush with his King in such a state.

Mobei-jun did not seem to have heard him, his face hidden behind the raven curtain of his hair. Shang Qinghua pushed it aside with one hand, gently touching his shadow-veiled face, and he called him again.

Mobei-jun's eyelids opened slowly, eyes dancing in the sockets, unable to focus. Still, he did his best to look up at his face.

“Qinghua...” he gasped, his voice low and raspy from the dry heat. “I've been waiting for you” he declared, without a hint of hesitation in his words.

“My King, stay awake please!!!!! For fuck's sake...” Shang Qinghua grunted, wrestling to remove Mobei-jun's sealing shackles. One wrist, then the other. In an instant, the wall behind them fragmented with the released power, and the room cooled a few degrees.  

It was not enough.

Mobei-jun staggered to his feet, falling back against the broken altar. His legs didn't seem to be able to support him much longer. The greenish lines were still there, draining his King as he grew more and more haggard by the second.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Shang Qinghua cursed between his teeth, trying to support the huge two meters of ice demon on his shoulders to help him stand up, but it was in vain. His King was in no condition to move, the antidote would take a long time to take effect in such heat, and he alone could not drag him out of the place without fighting off wave after wave of enemies.

“My King, hang in there, I'll get you out of here... somehow.” He assured him, trying not to let the fear corroding his insides show in his voice.

Raising an arm gently, Mobei-jun cupped Shang Qinghua's face, wiping with his thumb one of the many traces of blood running down his cheek.  

He smiled at him, the light in his eyes dripping to leave behind only darkness. 

No no no no no no NO!!!!

“System!!!” he screamed in his head. The floating screen appeared, the spectral blue light bouncing off the reddish walls.

[ Welcome back USER_001 (づ ◕‿◕ )づ) ]

“ Access Inventory.” He mentally ran through what he had and could be used. Some cooling talismans, the vessel that one connected to the sea to extinguish the lava, some pills to replenish spiritual energy....

[ Loading...]

[ERROR. The user action interferes with the current mission parameters “Subdue the Abyss” of CHARACTER_01. Try again later. ]  

What the fuck.

“What kind of bullshit excuse is that? The main plot's already over, and what does whatever Binghe's doing have to do with getting my King out of here anyway?”

[ This SYSTEM is hurt by such words (TдT). Kindly remind USER_001 that one cannot interfere with main plot missions ] 

“Main plot? Like the one about throwing Binghe into the Abyss?  

[ Correct ദ്ദി ˉ ͈͈ ̀ ꒳ ˉ ͈͈ ́ ) ✧ ]

“ That doesn't make sense. Luo Binghe doesn't even plan to unite the kingdoms or form his harem or anything like that, so...?”

[ A copy of CHARACTER_01 with the original parameters has been detected. Until the anomaly disappears, the current missions are still active. This SYSTEM apologizes for the inconvenience ( ￗ ﹏ ￗ ) ]

His whole body went numb.

So it was the end? All those years fighting to survive and raise Mobei-jun to the top were in vain? Was he going to lose the man he loved, his best creation, his comfort in his past life, his executioner turned companion in this one, in such a miserable way?

Shang Qinghua felt Mobei-jun's hand tighten against his.

[ ALERT. Anomaly detected at Ȕ̵̠̤̦͕ ̀S ̴̤ ̉ ͋͘Ě̶͈̰̭͚͛̋͗ R ̴̤̈ ́ ̿ _001 ]

“My King will NOT die in my arms” Shang Qinghua sat up until he was face to face with the floating screen. He touched the interface with his hand, anger and spiritual energy leaking from every inch of his body. “I wrote this plot. This is my world. These are my characters. I will not allow my favorite creation to die in my arms.”

[ Ȩ̶͇͉͇͂ r ̸̰̩ ̣ ̄ r ̷͉̳̊̍͘ o ̷̙͊̏̈ r ̷͑̎͝ ]     

[ Ȩ̶͇͉͇͂ r ̸̰̩ ̣ ̄ r ̷͉̳̊̍͘ o ̷̙͊̏̈ r ̷͑̎͝ ]

[ Ȩ̶͇͉͇͂ r ̸̰̩ ̣ ̄ r ̷͉̳̊̍͘ o ̷̙͊̏̈ r ̷͑̎͝ ]

[ ... ]

[ SYSTEM recalibrating... ]

[ Welcome Ḁ̷̔̒̓̈́͂̃̏̈́́́͒̒̽̅̕͝D̷̙̄͌͗͌̓̇̈̊̕M̷̲̳̗̜̯̥͐͐̇̓̄͂̈̈́̋̃̾̾͘I̷̞̠̮̖͖͕͓͒̍͗̋̐͐N̴̥̯̽͐̂̉̍_001 ]

 

______________

 

The agonizing pain that seeped through every pore of his skin suddenly disappeared. The cold embraced him like a gentle hug, bringing him back to consciousness.

Mobei-jun opened his eyes. He expected the residual pain of the antidotes, the feverish heaviness after being exposed for hours to the boiling heat, but he felt nothing.

He opened and closed his hands, checking their mobility. Everything was in perfect condition. He felt as if he had just awakened from a long night of restful sleep, not from an agonizing blackout after hours of prolonged torture.

He turned his head to look at the reason why.

Shang Qinghua was standing in the middle of the room. There was frost in his hair and at his feet, lava long since transformed into inert rock. His gaze is charged with an electric blue that Mobei-jun had only seen in the Northern auroras. Behind him his shadow cast impossibly long, emerging from a nonexistent light source. He tapped invisible buttons in the air at a frantic speed, each click accompanied by a bluish glow.

The temperature in the room plummeted again to the usual cold of the Palace. Frost spread into the corners, sealing the door and every crevice of the place, drowning out the sound of magma rushing behind the layer of rock that separated them from the volcano.

There was no way to mistake what he had seen and heard for feverish hallucinations. Mobei-jun sat up, opening his mouth to call out to the being in front of him, but found himself at a loss for words. A simple name did not seem adequate to address the god in front of him.

Not just any god, he reminded himself. The Creator of this world.

The Peak Lord who was his loyal servant for many years, the advisor he was courting, the cultivator who was going to be the consort sitting beside him on the throne.

The god who considered him his favorite of all his creations.

“My King...” the voice of Qinghua rumbles in an otherworldly echo, his gaze fixed on something invisible. His hair floated softly in glowing curls around him. All the dirt and grime he carried on him was gone, revealing in all its glory the finest silk and silver robes Mobei-jun had ordered for him.

Mobei-jun could not stop looking at him, no matter how much his eyes hurt. The sight of the man, no, the god he loved , dressed in the robes that symbolized their union after avenging his pain so bloodily was too much to process. His brain couldn't quite manage to process what was happening, but that didn't stop him from trying to absorb as much of the sight as possible.

“... It's time to go home.” Shang Qinghua extended a long finger, tearing the fabric of space itself with a long blue fingernail. A feat that left Xin Mo looking like a crude and graceless weapon.

In the blink of an eye, they both found themselves in the royal chambers of the palace, and Shang Qinghua collapsed at Mobei-jun’s feet.  

______________

 

Shang Qinghua awoke to the sensation of fingers stroking his hair. It was nice and cool, as was the bed beneath his body. The sheets were soft, so comfortable... perhaps way too comfortable.

He opened one eye to see where the heck he was lying, and nearly had two heart attacks when he saw his King sitting beside him, staring at him. The hand in his hair was his, the bed beneath him too, as was the cloak that wrapped around him.

“M-my K-King!!!” Shang Qinghua sat up at lightning speed, ignoring the dizziness and sudden tiredness. He couldn't remember how he had gotten there after finding his King in the volcanic fortress (why trying to do so gave him migraine kicks? Did he drink too much and make such a fool of himself that his brain preferred to suppress the memories?), but he had no plans to stick around to find out.

At least he was dressed, point for him. Although at what point had he donned the gala robes his King had given him, so elegant that he hadn't dared to wear them before?

“Th-this servant apologizes for his... uh...” he swallowed, crawling to the other edge so he could escape that piercing gaze.

Mobei-jun narrowed his eyes, reached out his arms and grabbed both wrists, cutting off his escape plan. He pulled him back onto his lap and pressed his hands to either side of his head, enclosing his body beneath him, his large legs on either side of his own.  

If his blood wasn't preparing his legs to escape, Shang Qinghua would be very sure that his little Airplane would be shooting proudly into the sky.

“Not servant. Use the title you are meant to carry, consort ,” Mobei-jun said in his ear, his icy breath sending shivers down his neck.

“What the-” Mobei-jun pressed their lips together, silencing him with a kiss.  

Notes:

Spreading the "MBJ is very horny for God!SQH" agenda.

Notes:

Come and scream with me on tumblr NotsoFrozt