Quarry

by Iotacf

Summary:

“You see demons sometimes court through violence, gifts and- ah, kidnaping has become a fashionable,” He laughs nervously. “Since Jushang has refused a harem, other demon nobles have sought out other means to make marriage alliances with-”

“What does that have to do with me?” Liǔ Qingge cuts in, Shang Qinghua nearly leaps out of his skin.

Shen Qingqiu chooses that minute to speak up, though he can’t tell if this is better or worse. “Binghe is still a disciple of Qing Jing Peak, so he has a martial family.” He insists with unusual force. “Liǔ Qingge is his Shisu.”

The demon grumbled something under his breath, Shen Qingqiu swats him over the head with his fan and the demon has the audacity to pout, Liǔ Qingge barely noticed however, his thoughts are loud but formless, it feels like blood is rushing in his ears.

Another stretch of heavy charged silence drags on as Liǔ Qingge realizes what Shen Qingqiu is speaking of with dawning horror.

Maybe he does want to die after all.
---
In which Shen Qingqui learns to be less oblivious, Luo Binghe learns his heart is big enough for two and Liu Qingge tries not to get kidnapped.

Chapter 1: To Feed a War God.

Liǔ Qingge gets injured a lot; it’s a natural consequence of getting in so many fights. Today is a bit of a special case, he was bed bound in Qiang Cao after flying back to the sect on a broken leg.

He was only so injured because the demon that attacked him, a green-skinned vine demoness, ambushed him after a hunt. He made quick work of her, but her poison lingered, slowing his Qi and thus healing.

Still, it’s nowhere near the worse injury he’s had. He brought himself home after all, so he is more than a little surprised to find his room Qian Cao Peak crowded.

Mu Qingfang is holding his wrist, passing along his Qi. That was expected. The others, Shang Qinghua, Shen Qingqiu and his demon husband, are not.

I want no part in whatever mess is about to happen.

“What- What is happening?” He spat out.

Everyone is very carefully trying not to look at him, the room is eerily silent.

Shen Qingqiu is hiding behind his fan, but a faint blush is visible at the top of his cheeks. His little rodent Shidi is vibrating with nervous energy. Luo Binghe is for once not smirking. He looks like he just swallowed something sour.

Only Mu Qingfang has his usual clinical neutral face.

If this is the kind of poisoning that requires dual cultivation…

He’d prefer death.

“Liǔ-Shidi, you were poisoned while out hunting and hobbled your way home,” Mu Qingfang drops his wrist. “Instead of using the emergency flares we are all provided.”

His condition must not be too bad for Mu Qingfang to feel comfortable needling him about his ‘disregard for his own health and safety’.

“You were delirious from poison but conscious enough to give me sufficient details to identify it.” He continued. “It’s a highly potent and lingering sleep draught, easily cured by simple Qi transfers and a core strengthening tincture.”

Liǔ Qingge releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding grateful to avoid that humiliation.

It doesn’t explain why everyone is acting like someone died.

“I’ve volunteered to help with your Qi transfers,” Shen Qingqiu lowers his fan as he approached, slowly, like Liǔ Qingge was a cornered animal about to bolt. “Think of it as returning an old favour?”

His words bring him back to simpler days, keeping without-a-cure at bay and sharing tea in the bamboo house, before those cold five years and the slightly less cold five of his Shixiong’s marriage.

Liǔ Qingge tersely nods, and Shen Qingqiu lets out a sigh. He probably expected more of a fight. Smart as he is, he was the only person who didn’t know he was weak to him.

“Good, great actually! There’s just one matter to sort out.” Shang Qinghua cuts in, interrupting his brooding. “I’m sure Shidi has noticed that this isn’t the only instance of high-level demonic activity in the area?”

He barrels on, not waiting for an answer, clearly this speech is rehearsed. “As well as the influx of rare and dangerous to acquire gifts.”

His ramblings are typically of little consequence, so Liǔ Qingge wants to only half-pay attention like he always does, but then he stars talking about demonic courting practices and Liǔ Qingge feels as if a blood vessel is about to pop.

“You see demons sometimes court through violence, gifts and- ah, kidnaping has become a fashionable,” He laughs nervously. “Since Jushang has refused a harem, other demon nobles have sought out other means to make marriage alliances with-”

“What does that have to do with me?” Liǔ Qingge cuts in, Shang Qinghua nearly leaps out of his skin.

Shen Qingqiu chooses that minute to speak up, though he can’t tell if this is better or worse. “Luo Binghe is still a disciple of Qing Jing Peak, so he has a martial family.” He insists with unusual force; they’ve had this argument countless times. “Liǔ Qingge is his Shishu.”

The demon grumbled something under his breath, Shen Qingqiu swats him over the head with his fan and the demon has the audacity to pout, Liǔ Qingge barely noticed however, his thoughts are loud but formless, it feels like blood is rushing in his ears.

Another stretch of heavy charged silence drags on as Liǔ Qingge realizes what Shen Qingqiu is speaking of with dawning horror.

Maybe he does want to die after all.

Maybe all the blood rushing to his head will be enough to make it explode.

Liǔ Qingge does not mind more combat, the recent demonic attacks had made for more interesting fights than mindless beasts at least, though this new information explains how… chatty they’d been.

He must have been silent for a while, mind spiralling as he stares into his own lap, he’s digging gouges into his sleeping mat. The bed dips, Liǔ Qingge doesn’t have to look up to know who it was, no one else in the room would ever sit so close to him.

“This master understands why Liǔ-Shidi is in shock, but it can’t be too surprising, of all the peak lords Liǔ-Shidi is certainly the most obvious choice,” He lays a hand on Liǔ Qingge shoulder and smiles, bright and unguarded with his fan out of the way. “With your martial prowess and your looks.”

Shen Qingqiu is not helping with the noise in his head. It’s only getting worse in fact, everyone else averts their eyes of course, except for the demon, who is glaring at where they’re touching. It would be better, for everyone’s sake, if Shen Qingqiu didn’t notice such things.

---

Liǔ Qingge stays on Qian Cao overnight for observation, mostly to avoid Shen Qingqiu for a little longer, but he leaves at the crack of dawn. Bai Zhan is of course up and active already and Liǔ Qingge resigns himself to actually training his disciples for the next month of healing. Training mostly consists of hopping into the training ring and fighting them all of at once. He can do that without much thought, which unfortunately gives him time to think about things he’d rather ignore.

The last thing he wants is ‘demonic admirers’, as Shen Qingqiu had mortifyingly put it. He doesn’t want any admirers. Maybe one, but that was a long dead fantasy. He stuffs that thought into a box in the back of his mind as he parries a sloppy blow from one of his newer disciples. His grip is weak, so a strike from Chen Laun sends his sword flying past the mat.

His students last longer than the last time he did this, so by the time they’ve all collapsed into exhausted heaps around him it’s nearly noon. He circles the mat doling out clipped praise and criticism, it doesn’t come naturally to him, but one doesn’t spend years pining after Shen Qingqiu without picking up some of his more effective teaching methods. He’ll never be the coddling type, that was for sensitive scholars, but his disciples seem far more receptive to learning and more willing to push themselves further for the chance at a rare nod of approval and a ‘good job’, or an even rarer head pat. Thankfully they’re not as sticky as Qing Jing peak disciples, they don’t swarm around him the moment he sets foot on his peak.

As if to punish him for even thinking about Shen Qingqiu or Qing Jing peak at all, Liǔ Qingge sensed Shen Qingqiu’s stickiest disciple, haunting the edge of the training ring. He is suppressing his demonic Qi enough to be unnoticeable to his students, but he is still loud to Lui Qingge’s senses. For once he doesn’t speak, just lingering in his periphery, annoying, like a fly in ointment.

He doesn’t look behind him, to where Luo Binghe is undoubtedly leaning against a tree and smirking like a smug bastard. Liǔ Qingge doesn’t acknowledge him, instead instructing a disciple to spend more time practicing their footwork.

After all his disciples peel themselves of the floor, Liǔ Qingge dismisses them with a single word. They scatter immediately.

Once they’ve all left, he turns around to face him.

“Shishu must be starving for a real challenge if he lowers himself to fighting children.” He taunts, that infuriating smirk he’d predicted still on his face.

“Teaching.” He grunts out. “What do you want?”

“Shizun has invited you over to our home to clear your meridians,” Then he drops his smirk into something closer to an affronted frown. “And stay for lunch.”

“What?”

He shrugged. “Shishu is more than welcome to refuse lunch, but Shizun gave this disciple permission to ‘drag you over to at least get your veins checked’.”

He did know he had to do that today, he was just putting it off until…

…well…

He was definitely going to do it.

Eventually.

“Fine.” If Lou Binghe didn’t seem so upset to be extending the offer, Liǔ Qingge would assume this was some new strange trick. “When.”

“Now.”

---

The bamboo house is deceptively peaceful, other than the angry racquet coming from the kitchen. Liǔ Qingge seats across from Shen Qingqiu, drinking tea as they ignore the demon’s domestic tantrum. He’s never quite understood why Luo Binghe is still so bothered by his presence, by all accounts he’d won, not that Liǔ Qingge had been aware they were competing until it was too late, and his husband is far too loyal and far too oblivious to even notice anyone else.

“How’re you feeling Liǔ-Shidi?” Shen Qingqiu asks after a few minutes of silently sipping tea. It’s good tea, better than when he makes it, Liǔ Mingyan says his impatience ruins the taste; He doesn’t know how impatience affects how he boils leaves.

“Fine.” He gulps down his tea. Good as it is, it doesn’t help with his nerves. “Tea’s good.”

“Thank you.” He sets his cup down. “Your last hunt, with everything that happened you didn’t get to brief me; What did you catch?”

“An eight-headed-leopard-beetle.” Lui Qingge answered, talking about his hunts is easy at least. “Was killing local life stock, carapace has medicinal purposes, otherwise I would have brought it to you.”

“I’ll have to ask Mu Qingfang to let me see it before he dissects it,” His eyes light up the way they always do when someone brings up beasts. “Ahh, did you know that the brain of the eight-headed-leopard-beetle is actually stored in its thorax?”

Liǔ Qingge settles into comfortable quite as Shen Qingqiu prattles on about monsters, it’s comfortable, achingly familiar. Shen Qingqiu talks enough for both of them, leaving Liǔ Qingge free to reacquaint himself with the way his pitch-dark eyes sparkle as he elaborates on the scale pattern of a lesser koi-wivern, or his unguarded smile while he speaks about the hooked fangs of the red-streaked-giant-swan-skink.

It’s soothing and familiar but fills Liǔ Qingge with a deep cloying want that he has no real way to tamp down, yet he finds himself leaning in, a moth hopelessly drawn into a fire that remains indifferent to his reverence.

---

It’s only after a few minutes of jabbering on that Shen Qingqiu remembers why Liǔ Qingge is even here. He interrupts his own rant about the difference between demonic and abyssal conjoined tiger-hawks and clears his throat.

“This master almost forgot, your wrist Shidi,” Shen Qingqiu reached out, waiting for Liǔ Qingge’s hand.

Liǔ-Shidi sighs but doesn’t complain, offering his hand.

Shen Qingqiu cradles Liǔ Qingge’s hand in his as he passes along his Qi. He doesn’t have as much experience doing this from this end of the process, so he follows the instructions Mu Qingfang gave him, passing his Qi from his fingertips into his Shidi’s wrists in a slow steady stream. He closes his eyes, imagining his Qi slowly pushing into the other man’s spiritual veins. It must be working, if the pleasant little sigh that escapes the gruffer man’s mouth is any indication.

Shen Qingqiu opens his eyes to study Liǔ Qingge face. He looks rather serene; eyes closed and face softer. Liǔ Qingge is always beautiful, but like this it’s less sharp. There’s even a faint pink flush across his cheeks, probably because like this it just looks like they’re holding hands.

Liǔ-Shidi always got so nervous about any kind of physical contact or exposed skin, turning tomato red and spluttering, a crack in his usually cool façade. Shen Qingqiu can’t explain why he’s quite so fond of that side of him.

Anyone would be of course, Liǔ Qingge is objectively beautiful, anyone with eyes can see that. Shen Qingqiu almost wishes he was less pretty, so he was a little less enticing to demons.

He glances back at their joint hands. Liǔ Qingge had very nice hands, large and sword callused as expected of such a supreme warrior but otherwise unblemished and pristine. There’s a mole on his wrist, before he can think too much about it, he finds himself circling it with his thumb. He can also feel fractures under his skin, long since healed but still permanently there. Shen Qingqiu idly wonders how new they must be, where they from his disciple days?

After a few minutes, Liǔ Qingge’s eyes flutter open. He has rather long eyelashes. “…I think that’s enough.”

“I suppose it is.” He pulls away and straightens his posture. He hadn’t realized that at some point they had leaned into each other’s space, giving Shen Qingqiu an up-close look of his neck.

It’s a nice neck. Strong. A smattering of moles trails down past his collar.

He thankfully doesn’t have to wrack his mind to come up with a way to continue the conversation when Binghe marches in, looking like he was going to war instead of serving his Shizun and Shishu lunch. Shen Qingqiu hides his laughter behind his fan as Binghe set the tray down as meticulously as always before plastering himself against Shen Qingqiu’s side. He swats away the hand creeping up his flank, getting an extremely fake pout in response.

Liǔ Qingge rolls his eyes, mutters out an almost perfunctory shameless and stares down at the food. His eyes flicker back to Binghe, and he glares, suspicious. Binghe of course glares back, hand trying to sneak its way onto his thigh this time.

Stupid testosterone fuelled idiots.

Shen Qingqiu reaches for his rice and as expected, Binghe breaks eye contact to serve his food, plating his dish in exactly the way he likes. Once Shen Qingqiu takes the first bite Lui Qingge serves himself.

Shen Qingqiu sighs.

Typical

After the first morsel goes past his lips, Liǔ Qingge freezes, surprise flickering through his face before he quickly schooled his expression into something neutral.

“How’s the food Shishu?” Shen Qingqiu can practically feel the smugness radiating of him.

“Satisfactory.” Admitting that much seems to be painful for him.

Binghe’s responding grin is predatory, as if Liǔ Qingge had walked into a snare.

Liǔ Qingge doesn’t seem inclined to say anything else. He eats mechanically, as if trying to fill his stomach as efficiently as possible so he can run off again. Shen Qingqiu isn’t sure what he’s running off to do, he is supposed to stay on Cang Qiong until the remnants of the poison work their way out of his system. Although, it wouldn’t be the first time Liǔ Qingge ran off to kill something while recovering from some injury.

Liǔ Qingge, so bad at taking care of yourself.

He can’t bring himself to be too exasperated, who would Liǔ Qingge be if he wasn’t so self-destructive? While Shen Qingqiu knew he was more than strong enough to shrug of most things, that didn’t mean he was invincible.

Lunch passes in mostly tense silence. Shen Qingqiu attempts some small talk, asking Liǔ Qingge how he’s planning to spend the rest of the day (he gets a clipped, ‘training’ in response, unclear if he’s training himself or his disciples). Binge doesn’t seem all that inclined to speak now, which is probably for the best at the moment.

Liǔ Qingge makes his goodbyes, shrugging of Shen Qingqiu‘s offers to fly back home with him. It’s probably fine, how much trouble can he get into on the way back?

Shen Qingqiu walks him to the door at least, after shooing Binghe off (he doesn’t need to loom the whole time).

“Stay safe Liǔ-Shidi, please don’t seek out trouble,” He settles a hand on Liǔ Qingge’s shoulder. It’s a very nice shoulder. He might squeeze a little. “For this mast- for my sake.”

Liǔ Qingge expression remains stoic, but his face is red. “I’ll be fine.”

Shen Qingqiu sighs, knowing that’s the best concession he’ll get. “Goodbye Liǔ-Shidi.”

He waits in the doorway, until Liǔ Qingge disappears from his sight, then steps back into the bamboo house. Lou Binghe has cleared their dinner plates away and has brought out their after-lunch tea. He’s still sulking, but he perks up when Shen Qingqiu returns on his own.

Shen Qingqiu returns to his seat and Binge serves his tea. He doesn’t actually want more, but it’ll help settle his nerves through the whining he was about to endure.

“Shizun.” He whines, as predicted. “Why did you have to invite Liǔ-Shishu?”

“I promised to help him with his meridians; would you prefer I went to Bai Zhan?” Shen Qingqiu asks, brow arched.

 “Shizun~” Binghe has the audacity to look aghast at that suggestion even as he pulled Shen Qingqiu onto his lap, tucking his face into his neck. “This disciple would prefer if Shizun let someone else deal with him.”

Shen Qingqiu scoffed. “I could never, Liǔ-Shidi spent years seeing to my health, the least I can do is return the favour for the month.”

The reminder of Liǔ Qingge’s previous help only seems to make Binghe more anxious. Shen Qingqiu sighs as he cards his fingers through his inky curls. They’ve had variations of this conversation before, throughout their marriage. For whatever reason Binghe was convinced there were scores of men out to steal him away and that Liǔ Qingge was somehow one of them.

Which was patently ridiculous. Sure, Binghe wasn’t straight anymore (or possibly was never) but that didn’t mean every other man was suddenly not straight either, and even if they were, between the two of them Binghe was certainly the better choice.

He says as much to Binghe, who stares up at him with wide eyes and the most convincing fake tears anyone has ever conjured. He seems torn between preening at the praise, distraught at the idea of being with anyone else and annoyed Shen Qingqiu still wouldn’t believe him.

---

His Shizun, his wonderful, beautiful A-Yuan, had a lot of hangers on and was completely oblivious to what they clearly wanted from him. Binghe had spent most of their marriage trying to keep them all at bay. Shizun had tried to alleviate some of his fears, but they still lingered all these years later.

Shizun’s relationship with Shang Qinghua was strange but decidedly unromantic, consisting mostly of bickering and threats of violence. When Binghe carefully asked about it (cried in his lap), Shizun had assured him that Shang Qinghua was ‘just a friend from the same hometown’, a ‘little rodent man I can only tolerate in small carefully controlled doses’ and ‘the source of all their misfortunes’. Shizun, he would later learn, had not been speaking figuratively.

Yue Qingyuan clearly made Shizun uncomfortable during the rare tea times he couldn’t manoeuvre out of. The sect leader spent most of those staring at his Shizun like he was about to cry (which was unsettling because Binghe knew Shizun was into that). Binghe had delicately asked about their history (cried on his shoulder that time) and Shizun only shook his head and said ‘Zhangmen-shixiong is in love with a ghost’. Again, Shizun hadn’t been speaking in metaphors.

Liǔ Qingge on the other hand had no affection for the old Qing Jing Peak Lord (not that he knew that) and Shizun, for some reason, didn’t find him deeply aggravating the way Luo Binghe did, often seeking out his company in the rare moments between hunts when he was on Cang Qiong. When Binghe had subtly asked about their history, about the time they spent together while he was gone (only a few tears were shed that time, he didn’t want to overdo it), Shizun only shook his head and said ‘Liǔ-Shidi isn’t interested in me’.

Liǔ-Shidi isn’t interested in me

Aside from being blatantly untrue, it also left Luo Binghe worrying about the agonizing possibility of Liǔ Qingge working up the courage to confess. If his only objection was the erroneous belief that Liǔ Qingge wasn’t in love with him did that mean Shizun would accept his feelings? It was unlikely Shizun would leave him, he was secure enough to know that, but then what? Would he have to share him? Would Shizun have to split his affection between the two of them? If Shizun took another partner would that embolden some of the other men in his orbit?

It was only a remote possibility, Liǔ Qingge had proven himself either too ‘noble’ or too cowardly to infringe on their marriage, and his face was too thin to make the kind of blatant admission required for Shizun to not misunderstand.

“If Shishu must come over every day surely, he only needs to stay over for tea.”

Not that cooking a little extra for Liǔ Qingge was that much of a hardship. If anything, it was oddly gratifying to see the little flicker of satisfaction on his face before he reigned it in. He highly doubted Liǔ Qingge knew the first thing about cooking, or anything remotely domestic. Shizun needed to be taken care of, Liǔ Qingge would make a terrible husband.

He’d almost successfully reassured himself until Shizun spoke up again, “Binghe will have to get used to seeing more of Liǔ-Shidi, with all the recent demon activity we can’t just leave him alone.” Shizun is working his hands through Binghe’s hair, which would normally be soothing, but his next words destroy that. “Someone could steal him away.”

That- that was a deeply upsetting idea. Liǔ Qingge may be the greatest thorn in his side, but he was a familiar thorn, his thorn, not to be plucked by anyone else. Perhaps his subjects will need to be reminded to keep their distance.

“This disciple will try and tolerate Liǔ Qingge’s presence,” At least until he had the time to step away and beat some sense into whatever two-bit, social climbing demon lord had the audacity to crawl out of the demon realm to attack his nemesis.

“Thank you. I know the two of you don’t always get along,” Binghe snorts, that was certainly a way to put it, five years of bad blood and rage was quite difficult to forget. “Maybe you can challenge him to a friendly spar this week, I’m sure he’ll be desperate for a fight after being trapped on Cang Qiong for that long.”

“Hmm, it would be even less of a challenge than usual,” He leaned into Shizun’s approaching fan then put on his most compelling put upon pout. “A-Yuan.”

Shizun always gets so flustered when Binghe used his name, today was no exception. His thin-faced, heaven-sent husband was already pleasantly flushed and seemed to only now realize that he was still perched in Binghe’s lap.

He tried to pull away, but Luo Binghe kept him rooted in place by hands on his waist. “A-Yuan, this disciple has been moping all day.”

Shizun rolled his eyes but remained pleasantly pink. “One could certainly say that.”

“Allow this husband to make it up to you.” Then he scooped his Shizun into his arms, ‘a princess carry’ as Shizun once put it, and marched towards their bedroom, leaving their barely touched tea to clean up later.

Shizun grumbles a bit about Binghe flip-flopping between titles (how could one ever encompass all that Shizun was to him?) or about Binghe being extra handsy (even as he leans into his chest and every stray touch).

Luo Binghe ensures, quite thoroughly, that Shizun doesn’t have the presence of mind to complain for some time.

The rest of the day passes just as pleasantly, they spend most of it sequestered in the bamboo house, Shizun grading papers while he tidies up. There isn’t much to clean, he keeps the house immaculate; it’s mostly an excuse to watch Shizun since he won’t let Binghe help with his work and the last time Binghe had sat and stared at him Shizun told him he ‘needed hobbies’.

The peace doesn’t last all that long unfortunately, and it was all Liǔ Qingge’s fault.

Notes:

First fan-fiction I've ever written, had to write it down to get them out of my head.

Comments welcome, please be nice to me.

Chapter 2: To Invite a War God Into Your Home

Notes:

Hi Hi Hi

The sun sets on Bai Zhan and Liǔ Qingge quietly moves through his sword forms, trying to kill time until it’s time to retire to bed. Typically, he would be out on a night hunt, but, as grating as it was to admit, the demon’s sleep poison left his Qi sluggish. Not enough to cripple him, but enough to make it unreliable in a fight. He could probably handle a few of the low-level mindless monsters and demons that occasionally pop up around Cang Qiong’s territory, had been planning to but…

Stay safe Liǔ-shidi

For my sake

Maybe Mu Qingfang should have Shen Qingqiu give out all his medical instructions, clearly it was far more effective. He moves through his sword forms for the fifth time that night and sits down to polish Cheng Laun. It’s already pristine, but the familiar motions are soothing.

He is so engrossed in the task, and his senses so dulled by his weakened Qi, that he doesn’t notice there’s someone else in his house until its almost too late. He sees their dark incorporeal form reflected against his blade and leaps to his feet. The creature drops from his ceiling and begins to coalesce into a humanoid shape.

Liǔ Qingge almost audibly sighs, another dark eyed demoness.

She is tall, lanky, form hidden under billowing black robes. What she isn’t hiding is her sword, hanging at her hip, hilt in her hand and half unsheathed. “Liǔ-”

He doesn’t wait for her to finish, demons were prone to long pointless speeches, and brings Cheng Luan down on her head. She dodges, barely, his blade tearing through strands of hair. Were he not so weakened she would be dead already.

“Not even going to let me introduce myself?” She grinned, wide, smug, full of sharp needle-like teeth, whisps of demonic smoke billow out from under her robes. “Just as eager for a fight as the stories say.”

He scoffs. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“Ah, I understand,” Black claws toy with the hilt of her still sheathed sword. “You talk better with action than your words.”

She darts out of the way of his next strike, and the next one after that. Even when she fails to dodge, her body goes temporarily intangible and his blade sails through unbloodied. If he were a little faster, if he were capable of that right now, he could strike her before she activated that power and end this whole charade.

The whole time she’s still got that infuriating smirk on her face (why did demons have to all be universally smug?) and hasn’t struck back yet. She leaps around his home with grace that would be impressive were she not invading it. “Why don’t we take this fight outs-”

She dodges out of the way of his sword, but she’s too focused on that to notice when he kicks his dining table at her, sending both it and her through the wall. She’s left shocked and sprawling in dirt and wood splinters for a moment but rolls out of the way as Liǔ Qingge leaps through the hole after her, Cheng Luan ripping a gouge into the ground where she just was.

She’s dazed for a moment longer but her annoying smirk returns. “That’s more like it.” She leaps to her feet and fully unsheathes her sword. “I was starting to worry the stories of the Bai Zhan war god were only exaggeration.”

---

Luo Binghe is making dinner, something lighter since he’d intentionally overdone it for lunch, when he sensed that something was wrong. It’s a niggling inclination, pulling at the edge of his senses. He switches of the stove, a creation from A-Yaun’s memories of his original world made with arrays and powered by Qi, and listens, stretching out his senses as far as they’d go.

The bamboo house is peaceful, quiet except for Shizun painting in the other room, he hears careful brush strokes against the canvass. Outside students are practicing their guqin, go pieces clack back and forth. There’s someone running towards the bamboo hut. Their steps are noisy; they trip over the third step but that barely slows them down.

Ning Yingying

His Shijie rights herself, muttering under her breath, and knocks, loudly. She doesn’t wait for a response and swings the door open, rushing into the house.

“Shizun! This disciple is sorry to interrupt Shizun’s peace but there’s been an attack!” The words tumble out of her mouth. “A demon on Bai Zhan.”

A demon on Bai Zhan

A demon on Bai Zhan with a weakened Liǔ Qingge

Luo Binghe is out the door and on Zheng Yang before he can stop to think. Shizun will follow behind him; it’s safer if he gets there after he’s done.

He crashes onto Bai Zhan and follows the sounds of battle. There’s a trail of destruction from Liǔ Qingge’s home, a hole blown through the side, and several other ruined buildings. On his way, a crowd of freshly roused Bai Zhan disciples are also following the carnage from a safe distance.

The end of the trail leads to a practice arena, the padlocked gates burst open and bent, Luo Binghe can hear the clash of blades and snarling before he finally sees the two.

Liǔ Qingge has a reedy, pale skinned demoness pinned under his boot. His hair is loose; Out of the ridiculous high ponytail he typically keeps it in and free to spill over his shoulders and down his back. His face is flushed, not from frustration or embarrassment, but from excursion. His robes are torn open, exposing much of his chest.

It’s a nice chest, a lot of chest.

He is covered in old scars, a good deal of them are from Luo Binghe, he remembers the story of each one. Binghe is well aware his Shishu is ‘objectively beautiful’ as his Shizun would say, but seeing him so uncomposed-

The demoness ruins the scene by running her mouth.

“War God, what are you going to do to me-” Liǔ Qingge grips Cheng Laun with both hands and thrusts down at her neck. Her eyes widen and her smug smile dissipates. “Wait! You’re not supposed to actually kill me.”

Lui Qingge stills, blade point poised against her neck. “What did you expect, attacking me in the middle of the night on my peak?”

“To demonstrate my martial prowess and tempt you into bed?” She says, as if he was crazy for needing that explained.

His grip on Cheng Laun tightens even as he pulls the blade back from her neck. “I am unimpressed. Leave.” He lifts his boot, and she scrambles onto her feet. “Let anyone else know I won’t be so kind next time.”

Luo Binghe watches the demoness skitter to her feet and run of, melting into the shadows. He commits her features to memory, remembers the clan crest pinning her cloak up. He will be paying her a visit soon. His temper may have cooled since Liǔ Qingge clearly had this in hand, but it’s lingers, boiling under his skin.

Liǔ Qingge sighs, tension leeching from his frame once the demoness disappears, and sheathes his sword. A swarm of Bai Zhan disciples stream into the arena, peering up at Liǔ Qingge with awe and admiration as they ask questions about the fight. Liǔ Qingge’s face softens from pinched annoyance to exasperation as he answers their questions. A few can’t quite keep their eyes on his face.

Binghe’s irritation flares and he steps past the warped gates. All heads snap in his direction; He’s not doing much to suppress his demonic qi.

Immediately, all Liǔ Qingge’s disciples draw their blades.

Liǔ Qingge rolls his eyes and barks out an order for them to leave. They hesitate for a moment, but one sharp glare sends them scattering, sending worried sideways glances at Luo Binghe.

Liǔ Qingge grumbles about ‘more demons on his peak’ and Luo Binghe can’t help but be a little aggrieved to be lumped in with the riff raff. He thought they had something special. “I’ve already taken care of it.”

“I can see that.” He can’t help but let his gaze flicker back to Liǔ Qingge’s still exposed chest. There’s a long thin scar cut from his left collar bone, across his right peck, down to his side. Lou Binghe remembers the day he gave him that, sliced his chest open while swinging wildly in the middle of a rainstorm on the Huan Hua Palace roof. Liǔ Qingge kicked him of before retreating. He’d taken a little longer to heal after that fight than normal, showed up two days later still bandaged up. Binghe knew he’d show up eventually, he was nothing if not persistent (Binghe had missed him regardless). “I can see quite a lot Shishu.”

It’s only then that he seems to notice his state of undress, he reaches for his waist, frowns when he realises the qiankun bag he normally keeps there is missing, likely didn’t have it when he was initially attacked. Luo Binghe watches with amusement as he turns a brilliant shade of pink. His blush is blotchy, uneven.

It makes him want to say something else to make him redder. “Shishu is doing nothing to ward of demonic attention.”

He's noticing other things too, things he’d been too mad (from Xin Mo, from grief, from heart ache) and Liǔ Qingge too covered in blood the last time he tore his shirt open time to notice. Liǔ Qingge has a smattering of freckles dusting his shoulders and several constellations of moles across his skin. His nipple is inverted, Binghe wonders idly if the other one is too.

Liǔ Qingge blusters, pulling his torn open robe together with one hand and grabbing at his sheathed sword with the other. “You-”

“Ah, Liǔ-shidi, this master is glad to see you safe!” Shizun descends from above, gracefully landing and disembarking Xiu Ya. He notices Liǔ Qingge’s state of undress, blushes and adverts his eyes. He reaches into his qiankun sleeve and pulls out one of his own spare robes. “To help Shidi… cover up.”

Maybe at another time seeing Liǔ Qingge draped in Shizun’s clothes would spark jealousy, and maybe there’s still a little of that somewhere within him, but it’s smothered by the sight of Shizun’s robe straining across Liǔ Qingge’s broad shoulders and failing to hide much of anything.

Liǔ Qingge’s home has a hole blown through it, so Shizun insists he can’t sleep there, although he asserts, he’s slept in worse conditions. Luo Binghe doesn’t doubt that he seems like exactly the type to sleep comfortably on the uncushioned dirt while out tracking some beast. Shizun argues that they have space for him in the bamboo house. Liǔ Qingge splutters through denials, but Shizun is insistent, and Liǔ Qingge has never been one to deny him anything. He looks to Luo Binghe briefly, likely hopping he’ll kick up a fuss, try to refuse him entry into their home.

“Shizun is right as always,” Then he adds, looking to his husband with wide eyes. “The breach in the wall is also a security risk…”

Luo Binghe lets the implication linger and Shizun only becomes more insistent. Liǔ Qingge crumbles like wet paper. He disappears into his bedroom to pack and Luo Binghe takes the opportunity to study the space.

He doubts he’ll have the chance to enter his Shishu’s home again, so he can’t help himself. The Bai Zhan war god’s home is austere and plain, which isn’t much of a surprise. What’s the point of decorations for a house he barely lives in? Binghe doubts he even made any changes after the former Bai Zhan peak lord moved out.

The only exception is a small shelf of nick knacks (one of Shizun’s fans, one half of a child’s wooden training sword, a monster’s horn) and a copy of Minyan’s calligraphy. It appears Liǔ-Shishu is capable of some sentiment.

(Enough to fuel five years).

Liǔ Qingge returns swiftly, qiankun pouch at his hip and (disappointingly) changed into his own clothes. His hair is pulled back again, though not as severely. Enough time has passed for the bruises he received from his fight to be stark against his skin.

“Liǔ-Shishu looks awful.” Shizun smacks his shoulder, but his gaze remains on those offensive bruises. There’s a purple one blooming under his jaw, hideous and marring Liǔ Qingge’s face.

He’s going to kill that demoness, deliver her head to Liǔ Qingge himself.

---

Liǔ Qingge is standing in the doorway of Shen Qingqiu’s private study, shuffling from foot to foot, in sleeping robes. That alone is a novel sight, because even after more than a decade of friendship Shen Qingqiu has never seen him in anything other than his usual robes. His hair is tied down, also a new sight, he looks less sharp like this somehow. He’s frowning at the floor like it’s offending him, unlikely since Binghe keeps the floor spotless.

“I’m staying in his room?” Ah, that’s why he’s so upset.

Ten years and they still can’t seem to stand to be around each other.

This is probably the longest they’ve been in the same building without trying to fight each other.

All this over him? It’s ridiculous, but Liǔ Qingge hated demons and is loyal to a fault and Binghe is endlessly jealous, so their conflicts are rather inevitable. Five years of near-daily duels is also unlikely to foster an amicable relationship.

Still, he wishes they could try. Ever since their marriage, (the public one that Binghe had insisted on and Shen Qingqiu had agreed to under the condition that he would have no hand in planning) Liǔ Qingge had made himself more and more absent, taking every of peak mission he could. Even when he returns his fans, Liǔ Qingge rarely stops for tea anymore.

He misses getting the opportunity to talk Liǔ Qingge’s ear of about monsters. Liǔ Qingge was a great listener. One could never tell just by his face how intensely he was listening, but if Shen Qingqiu sounded particularly excited about a specific rare beast Liǔ Qingge would disappear for a few days and show up with it (dead or alive) at his front door. At least, he used to. Now he only gets whatever Liǔ Qingge happens to already be out fighting. Not that he’s complaining.

Much

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t regret anything about his marriage (some of the things leading up to it sure) but he wishes less Liǔ Qingge didn’t come as a consequence of it.

Maybe this forced closeness will make them to get along. They had been civil during lunch.

Maybe by the end of this month Liǔ Qingge will be a frequent dinner guest

“Liǔ-Shidi is staying in his old room.”

He pauses for a moment, then steps into the study. “What are you doing?”

“Grading reports for my advanced classes,” Shen Qingqiu gestures to the two neat piles on his desk, he’s already half way through. “I have to do some work if I want to be peak lord in more than name.”

Liǔ-shidi nods as his gaze sweeps over Shen Qingqiu bookshelf. He’s barely read half of these, they’re mostly for show (he suspects the original goods kept them for similar reasons too), and the half he has read are bestiaries, or compendiums of rare and magical plants.

(He keeps his most salacious trash hidden under his floorboards away from where Binghe can snoop.)

(He probably knows about them anyway.)

Liǔ Qingge grabs a bestiary and flips to a random page.

“Looking for anything specific?”

Liǔ-shidi nods. “For when I’m healed.”

“Well, the poisoned snowy-down-giant-moth-swans hatch very soon.” Every ten years, Shen Qingqiu had been too dead the last time they hatched to notice. “Their cocoons make the strongest silks, and they excrete gold from their mouths to build their nests.”

“They’re technically not hostile but they tend to nest near settlements, they’re attracted to light and get very territorial.” Shen Qingqiu continues, once he’s started talking about monsters its difficult to stop. “Or there’s the briar-barbed-mud-crocodile. They can hold their breath for a day and a half and like to hide under docks to eat boats whole.”

His papers are abandoned, and he talks Liǔ Qingge’s ear off until they pick a monster, the greater conjoined-python-frog, skin poisonous and impossibly fast. The kind of challenge Liǔ Qingge will be craving after a month of being peak bound.

After that’s decided, Liǔ-shidi returns the books they opened to the shelves and Shen returns to grading. The moment fades away yet again.

“You’re going to keep working?” Liǔ Qingge asks as he steps out of the study. “This is why you’re always the last to arrive to peak lord meetings.”

“I’ve always been a night owl.” Many a night he’d passed getting blue light blasted into his face.

“You weren’t before.”

Ah, right, the original goods was of course the kind of twisty accursed man to enjoy mornings. It was odd though, to be reminded that as far Liǔ Qingge was concerned they’d know each other for thrice as long as they actually had. Liǔ Qingge dutifully almost never mentioned any time before the ling xi caves. It was nice, having someone other than Binghe (and Shang Qinghua but he barely counted) who he didn’t have to constantly keep up pretences with.

“This one- I changed a lot with age.”

“Hmm, lazier.” He says it without real heat, corner of his lips turned up as if threatening to break out into a smile. “I’m going to bed.”

Shen Qingqiu finishes grading his papers, his students have improved markedly, and he takes the time to offer each detailed praise, before he retires to bed. Binghe is already in their bedroom, smothering all but one candle and lighting Shen Qingqiu’s favourite nighttime incense.

Binghe crawls into bed and his arms encircle his waist, by morning Binghe will be crushed to his chest and curled around him like a demonic octopus. “Shizun spent quite some time in his office with Liǔ-Shishu.”

Liǔ Qingge has lived with them for two hours and already the vinegar drinking begins. As if his hearing wasn’t good enough to pick up on everything in the bamboo house anyway, so he knows exactly what happened and what was said.

He was likely just jealous Liǔ Qingge was even allowed in his study. Binghe was banned from entering while he was actually working, he was far too distracting.

Binghe had many teenage fantasies, many of them involved desks and grading, because of course they did.

Shen Qingqiu sighs. “We were discussing monsters; he was looking for his next game.”

That answer only seems to upset Binghe more. “Of course, Shishu is looking for an excuse to leave as soon as possible.”

Binghe, why do you almost sound like you want Liǔ Qingge to stay?

Notes:

I'm so horny about scars dude, expect more of that theme specifically. I feel like not enough Bingluishen fics address just how much history Binghe and Liǔ Qingge have. Five whole years of homoerotic fights.

Chapter 3: To Live With A War God

Luo Binghe can’t sleep.

That hasn’t happened in years, while he doesn’t need that much sleep it’s still usually easy to press himself against his husband and listen to the steady thrum of his heartbeat, to reassure himself with his husband’s soothing presence and drift of. Unfortunately, they aren’t alone, Shizun’s heart isn’t the only one he can hear.

Liǔ Qingge is right next to them, only a single wall between them. Binghe can hear his heartbeat, loud, steady. His breathing is shallow and stable; He’s been asleep for some time.

How does he sleep? Is he curled in on himself? Luo Binghe doesn’t hear movement.

Of course, he probably lies rigid as a board, perfect sleeping posture.

Probably hates the soft pillows Shizun commissioned, hates any touch of comfort.

He’s lying in their sheets; It’ll take days to wash the scent of him out.

Did he braid his hair before sleeping? He’d have to, to keep all that hair out of the way.

So much hair, loose and spilled like ink over a flushed heaving chest.

A chest full of Binghe’s marks.

Luo Binghe can’t sleep.

---

Liǔ Qingge wakes as he does every day, at the crack of dawn as soon as the morning light hits his face. The way the light hits his face is wrong, his bedding softer, his pillow not porcelain. It takes a second to recalibrate, to remember where exactly he is.

Bai Zhan is never this peaceful in the mornings.

The room his in, Luo Binghe’s old room his mind unhelpfully supplies, is neat but covered in trinkets (a paint brush on a child’s desk, framed and poorly done calligraphy, little whittled wooden animals scattered on every surface, a torn of silk sleeve folded neatly on his bedside table…), frozen in time.

It all feels strangely human.

More human than Liǔ Qingge liked to think of him.

He dresses quickly and leaves. It seems like he is the only one up, Shen Qingqiu is a late riser, and Luo Binghe follows him in all things, so for a time he has the bamboo house to his self. Even with its to owners fast asleep, it is still so obviously marked with their presence, so full of life and things, more things than Liǔ Qingge has ever given himself the luxury of keeping, more life than his austere empty home on Bai Zhan or the quiet manor he grew up in. A peaceful little shrine to a life and relationship of the past five years, one he was intruding on.

He used to be a more frequent guest, the walls used to be so much more familiar but now…

Liǔ Qingge leaves, maybe a little faster than he needs to, stepping into the tranquil peace of Qing Jing’s mornings. Unlike its master, the peak is already active. There’s an outdoor painting class starting in the distance. Nervous yet competent guqin playing is heard from one of the learning halls. Another group is stretching in preparation for sword practice.

Liǔ Qingge moves through his sword forms, trying to centre himself. He has things to do today; he can’t afford to be unsettled this early.

He needs to fill out a form for home repairs and drop it at An Ding, assuming they aren’t already aware. Normally he would hand the task of to one of his disciples, who’ll foist the task of onto a random An Ding peak disciple and the repairs would be done at some point, but he needs this done now and urgently (he needs to get back into his own house immediately), so he’ll have to track Shang Qinghua down himself to deliver the instructions. Luckily, Shang Qinghua is actually on peak right now. He splits time between An Ding and the Demon realm, shows up to about half the peak lord meetings (not that he had room to judge unexplained absences).

He unsheathes Cheng Laun and flies far away from the warm little home that shares most of his fondest memories.

---

Mornings on Qing Jing peak are typically tranquil; this morning is anything but. Shang Qinghua is in their home, making Shizun laugh with words in their odd language. Shizun says it’s called ‘English’. Binghe is learning bits and pieces, but that was a slow process. He’d ask Shizun to teach him, but if Shizun thought he could understand him, that would make snooping much harder.

Shang Qinghua’s presence is made more tolerable by the sapphire betrothal necklace around his neck. He also visits far less often now.

Binghe may or may not schedule their stays on Cang Qiong and in the demon realm to have as little overlap as feasible (not too little overlap though, his husband would never admit it, but from time to time he missed Shang Qinghua).

He is used to Shang Qinghua’s presence. It’s wanted compared to what he brought with him. While Binghe tries his best to keep his work far away from Qing Jing, occasionally something urgent appears that requires his attention, some rebellion to squash, diplomatic incident to smooth out, anything that can’t be handled with Mobei-jun or Sha Hualing as proxies. It’s an unwelcome interruption in devoting all his undivided attention to his husband’s care.

Today’s interruption comes in the form of a stack of letters, courting overtures.

That alone isn’t unusual, while five years of steadfastly monogamous marriage to his Shizun and liberally applied violence wards off most, there are still a few foolish enough to try offering themselves up to him, or both of them.

These letters weren’t for them though, they were stacks upon stacks of presumptuous, greedy demons requesting his permission to court his Liǔ Qingge. There’s a request from a third-rate beast lord from some no name mountain near the border lands, boasting of his prodigious strength, insisting he will be the one to tame the war god.

Binghe will turn him into a rug, give Liǔ Qingge something to decorate his empty house with.

The other letters are equally or more infuriating and presumptuous; Binghe makes plans to pay each sender a visit.

“Binghe?” Shizun’s voice cuts through the miasma of roiling demonic energy he didn’t realize he was emitting. He tamps it down and drops the letter he’d been reading, claws retracting from where they tore through the paper. “Are you alright?”

“Yes Shizun, this disciple was just… surprised,” Surprised at the audacity, quietly and increasingly murderous. “Shang Qinghua.”

The little rat flinches in his seat, clearly shocked Binghe is even acknowledging him. Typically, Binghe simply pretends he doesn't exist. Shang Qinghua is the only one of his martial uncles and aunts that Shizun allowed him to be openly impolite too, although he isn’t allowed to outright threaten him. Only Shizun could do that.

“Make a list of suitors, family names, locations and defences from these letters,” Binghe instructs. For all Shang Qinghua’s meekness he was a ruthlessly efficient administrator; the list would be done by noon. “Let Mobei-jun know I require his presence tomorrow.”

He will be fighting on his own, to prove a point, but without Mobei-jun’s portals the bloody path he plans to carve through the demon realm will take the whole day.

And who will make Shizun’s dinner then?

Shang Qinghua spends a quarter an incense stick whining to Shizun about wedding preparations and all the repairs Bai Zhan needs over tea. They slip into their private language again and start arguing (Why is Shizun never that harsh with him?).

Shizun likes to blame Shang Qinghua for most of his problems (and Binghe’s problems and the world’s problems). It’s odd to think the jittery little man is apparently his creator (or at least a very powerful seer), so he prefers not to most of the time, makes it easier to order him around.

Eventually, Shang Qinghua’s many duties need his attention, and the bamboo house is blessedly free of him.

During their argument Binghe left to make snacks, which were conveniently timed to be done just as Shang Qinghua leaves.

Unfortunate

Shizun spends the rest of the day idly flipping through Shang Qinghua’s latest draft and reading the worst bits aloud. Binghe tries unsuccessfully to hand feed him dragon’s beard candy. Shizun tells him to pull out their go board, since he clearly has too much time on his hands.

Time passes, one mealtime then another, Liǔ Qingge storms back into the house in time for dinner.

He’s been gone all day, off beating his students into a pulp, out of Binghe’s sight, unprotected. Binghe has very carefully not been thinking about it all day. Which is why it wasn’t a relief to hear from him.

(He’s making dinner for three, hoping Liǔ Qingge will make it in time)

Binghe hears him from the kitchen, kicking the door open and marching into the central room. Shizun is finishing his painting from the day before.

“Welcome back Liǔ-Shidi,” Shizun greets. He sets his brush down. “You’ve been out all day.”

“Busy. Training, paperwork.” Fluttering papers, a heavy weight thuds on the table. “Shang Qinghua pressed me into bringing this.”

“Hmm, I hope you didn’t strain yourself too much today?” Binghe hears nothing in response, he must respond non-verbally. Shizun sighs. “Good. Your wrists shidi?”

Fabric rustles, a chair scooches closer and Shizun quietly hums a song Binghe doesn’t recognize under his breath. Binghe wonders what they must look like, leaning into each other’s space. Liǔ Qingge is probably turning red, Binghe can hear his breathing pick up.

“There, was that so bad?” Shizun asks, his voice light and teasing, he picks up his brush again. “Tell me about your day.”

---

Shen Qingqiu notices his husband has been acting odd all day, watching the door anxiously and letting out a little huff of disappointment whenever it opens to reveal a disciple with a message or papers to grade. He makes enough lunch to feed three and seems irritated to have so many leftovers.

Does he actually miss Liǔ-shidi?

He’d hoped living together would make them a little less hostile, but it’s only been a day and now his husband is watching the door like a pet waiting for their human to return.

And he’d gotten so angry when Airplane brought over those courting overtures!

Rightfully so! Even if Liǔ Qingge were so inclined none of those demons would be a good match. Liǔ-shidi needed someone who could take care of since he was so bad at taking care of himself. He’d returned to the bamboo house claiming he was fine, but his meridians were drained, his Qi flowing sluggishly. He had sighed so sweetly during his Qi infusion before catching himself and turning bright red. He doubts any of those demons would know how to take care of someone as stubborn, self-destructive and recalcitrant as his Shidi.

Liǔ Qingge would also need someone who can cook. As much as he would downplay it when asked he clearly enjoyed Binghe’s cooking, eyes closed as he bites into a slice of roast duck, expression unguarded for once. He probably just practices inendia or eats camping rations normally.

He’ll need someone strong too, someone who can keep up with in a fight. Liǔ Qingge is nearly unmatched amongst cultivators and none of the demon lords after his hand seemed particularly impressive. If Liǔ Qingge was unpoisoned he’d wipe the floor with any of them. Even like this he warded of an attack by himself, though the demoness wasn’t all that impressive; An upstart young noble from the shadow-demon clan, 7^th in line and hopping to social climb.

And he can’t be part of some petty-tyrants harem, Liǔ Qingge is far too precious to just be acquired and forgotten in a sea of many. He’s also too prickly to tolerate the politics of a massive harem. Maybe he’d be fine with one spouse, maybe two.

Still, he’s not surprised that demons are trying their luck. Liǔ-shidi is quiet the sight, especially in a fight! Though, he is rarely ever that dishevelled. Seeing him flushed with his robes torn open was new and, ah, inspiring.

From an objective standpoint of course!

Very objective, anyone with eyes could see Liǔ Qingge’s beauty. To many people were!

Throughout dinner, Luo Binghe is unusually silent as he takes furtive glances at his Shishu, though Liǔ Qingge hardly notices that. Binghe watches Liǔ Qingge like he’s a puzzle he’s struggling to solve, when his gaze skims over his healing bruises from the day before his expression turns furious for just a moment. Binghe’s far too distracted to make a big show of draping himself all over his husband (he still did, he just wasn’t very dramatic about it). When dinner is over, he spirits the dishes away and returns even faster than usual with tea.

While he’s gone, Liǔ Qingge excuses himself and steps out to the private courtyard behind the baboo house to practise his sword forms (because he is physically incapable of sitting still for longer than a few minutes). They can see him through a half open window, hacking into an old training dummy.

“Shishu is very graceful.”

Shen Qingqiu nearly chokes on his tea. He looks up as Luo Binghe, who’s peering out the window at the man in question. Despite the compliment, he is frowning, like he is annoyed he even noticed.

“I suppose so.” He responds carefully, any acknowledgment of Liǔ Qingge’s good qualities usually ends with a flood of vinegar. He glances back outside, Liǔ Qingge has eviscerated one of the training dummies, the courtyard is covered in straw and wood shavings. “Is Binghe just noticing now?”

He hums. “Does Shizun know the name of the poison afflicting Liǔ-Shishu? From your… books.”

Binghe always refers to his impossible knowledge of beasts, plants and the future obliquely unless they were in a room warded with privacy talismans. It is far easier to take advantage of his foreknowledge when he didn’t need to make excuses as to where he learned it.

“I have theories.” Whatever is afflicting Liǔ Qingge is relatively low stakes, so he isn’t that invested in curing it in a hurry (and it’s rather nice to have Liǔ Qingge visit every day). “I suspect it’s most likely the Woeful-black-vined-aster-dew.”

Chapter 376, a low-stakes filler harem story-line plot pusher made to resolve a stupid love rivalry between Wives #127 and #128. Of course, despite being such a mild and temporary poison it only had one cure, the same cure as every other redundant papapa flower in PIDW.

Stupid papapa plot pusher!

Notes:

Bit shorter than usual, of course comments are welcome.

---
My Tumblr for SVSSS related stuff is @fandom-derangment-quarantine, shoot me an ask there if you wanna talk or send asks.
My main blog is @gay-little-treat-wizard/gay-little-treat-wizard.tumblr.com, I sell potions on request there from this post.

Chapter 4: To Fight A War God

Notes:

Hiya, this took longer than I was planning, law school is the worst thing in the world, we should all just solve our disputes with homoerotic duels. The world would be so much better.

Luo Binghe tries not to kill. Shizun doesn’t like it and killing a subordinate demon lord at every infraction meant leaving power vacuums for the new, opportunistic and unpredictable. Still, some of Liǔ Qingge’s ‘suitors’ test his resolve by being exceptionally annoying.

Most at least, have the good sense to grovel and beg for forgiveness when he arrives to challenge them over their insult. The rest are either too proud or to hopped up on bravado to back down. Demonic duels end either when a combatant dies or yields, and many demons find the humiliation of yielding less bearable than death, so Binghe ends many foolish lives that day.

The first few don’t know he’s coming, he moves faster than news can travel to them, but midway through his whistle stop tour of the demon realm they start begging the moment he arrives. Which at least speeds things up. One clan heir pre-emptively strikes when he arrives before he can speak his grievance.

Binghe isn’t sure what he’s going to do with his head, but surely Liǔ Qingge will find some purpose for it.

As he tears through demonic nobility with Mobei-jun as a silent witness, he finds a feeling of tedium settle over him. None of the fights are particularly challenging, most of his opponents rely on brute strength or a gimmick he was immune to. None pose a challenge to him (Liǔ Qingge would tear through them so easily).

He’s clearly been spoiled, fighting with Liǔ Qingge was always a challenge; Even if the outcome was inevitable, he at least makes Binghe work for his victories. Always a little more difficult each time.

He steps into the courtyard of yet another castle, a shoddy one built into a mountain side. There’s already a retinue of beast and mountain demons watching from the sidelines and a single figure standing in the centre, hefting an oversized war axe over one shoulder.

The beast lord swings before Binghe can speak, great axe aiming for his neck. It’s for the best, he wasn’t all that inclined to spare him; His letter had been particularly egregious.

Less hairy than expected, won’t make a very warm rug or blanket. Gloves maybe?

The fight is over in one quick bloody strike, for all his boasting the beast lord wasn’t particularly noteworthy or talented. Liǔ Qingge could probably end him even in his weakened state.

He returns home, bloody and satisfied, right in time to make dinner.

Shizun and Liǔ Qingge are sat at the table again, a pot of tea between them as they share Qi again. Shizun holds Liǔ Qingge’s hand as if it’s a fragile offering, thumbs pressed into either side of his wrist. Shizun is humming another song, eyes closed, but Liǔ Qingge is staring, gaze reverent and expression free and open, a small, rare smile on his face.

He really is rather pretty.

Lou Binghe isn’t sure what to call the emotions currently boiling in his core and threatening to burst out of his skin, but he needs them gone. He was planning to quietly slink into the washroom, so he doesn’t interrupt Shizun, clean up and start on dinner, but he has the sudden urge to make his present known.

He marches into the main room, Liǔ Qingge flinches back from Shen Qingqiu’s touch (that’s not as satisfying as Binghe thought it would be), and reaches for his overstuffed qiankun pouch. He dumps it on the table next to the tea tray.

“Shizun, Shishu, apologies for this one’s unseemly appearance,” He is covered in blood, will have to deep clean the table before he can serve dinner on it. And the chair he sits on. “This one had to visit his subjects and Shishu’s… suitors to remind them of their place.”

To ensure they keep their greedy, grimy, grabbing hands far away from… Cang Qiong.

Shizun pats his head, praising Luo Binghe for a job well done as he recounts the highlights of his day (it sounds far more exiting in retelling than it was to experience). He absorbs the praise happily, but his gaze remains on Liǔ Qingge. Binghe isn’t expecting the same kind of praise from him, doesn’t even want it, but some acknowledgment would be nice.

He lounges in his seat in a performance of relaxation as he searches Liǔ Qingge face for some sort of reaction, perhaps some gratitude for dealing with his pest problem. Liǔ Qingge remains as implacable as ever, no shift in his face as he nods along to his story like his efforts meant nothing.

It shouldn’t matter to him if Liǔ Qingge notices, it doesn’t. It shouldn’t cause the well of unidentified feeling to grow, bubbling out from his core and under his skin until it threatens to burst.

It's anger, it must be anger (he can’t allow it to be anything else). Thankfully, his favourite way to vent his anger is right in front of him and so easily goaded.

“Not even a thank you, Shishu?” He asks, voice faux saccharine in a way he knows Liǔ Qingge hates.

It does the trick, Liǔ Qingge scowls. “For what?”

He sighs, as if it were obvious (it should be). “For defending Shishu’s honour.”

Liǔ Qingge scoffs. “I’m not some helpless maiden.”

“Clearly.” Binghe rolls his eyes then adds, “A maiden would be in a better position to protect herself.”

There’s only so much needling that Liǔ Qingge can handle before he snaps, springing to his feet with his hand on his sword hilt. “Outside now!”

---

Shizun bars them from using swords, out of worry for Liǔ Qingge state and the integrity of their home (he doesn’t want to have to fill out any more requisition paperwork).

I can handle myself

Liǔ-shidi is still recovering

Shizun is watching them from a bench in the shade of the largest tree in the back courtyard, his fan drawn over his face. By the way the corners of his eyes crinkle, Binghe can tell he’s hiding a smile. He typically spectates their fights, ostensibly to make sure no one gets too hurt (to make sure Binghe doesn’t hurt his Shishu to badly), but Binghe suspects he just find their spats entertaining.

Luo Binghe would love to put on a show, but Liǔ Qingge is slower than normal, which he gleefully points out just to watch Liǔ-Shishu redden with anger. It’s easier to doge out of his way, despite that, it’s the most fun he’s had all day.

The lack of swords means their sparring devolves into grappling spectacularly quickly. Liǔ Qingge shoves him to the ground and Binghe grabs him, sending them both sprawling in the dirt.

Binghe recovers first and pins Liǔ Qingge to the floor by his wrists, knees bracketing his hips. It’s a pleasant view, Liǔ Qingge is red from exertion and embarrassment, the collars of his robes are torn open, and his face is twisted in rage and annoyance as he squirms.

“Get- get of me!” Liǔ Qingge splutters out, face only getting redder.

“Hmm, no,” Binghe transfers both wrists to one hand and pinches Liǔ Qingge’s cheek with his free hand. “I think I like it up here.

---

Liǔ Qingge knows the outcome of every fight with Binghe, but he can never bring himself to back down from a challenge or not challenge Binghe himself when he is particularly annoying. He wasn’t in peek fighting for today, but the few good hits he gets in are almost worth the humiliation of getting pinned.

Almost.

“Get- get of me!”

The demon is hovering over him; sporting a malicious smirk as he bears down on him.

“Hmm, no,” It’s infuriating how easily he can trap Liǔ Qingge’s hands with only one of his, leaving the other free to poke at his face. “I think I like it up here.”

Liǔ Qingge bucks against his grip, but Luo Binghe remains unmoving, easily able to keep him immobilized.

“Shishu should learn to be grateful.” He leans down, so he’s the only thing in Liǔ Qingge field of vision.

All he can see is cascading black curls (he ripped out Binghe’s hair tie at some point during the fight) and mischievous red-brown eyes. He looks nothing like the demon in Liǔ Qingge’s memories (he hasn’t for quite some time). In Liǔ Qingge’s memories, Binghe’s eyes are bright glowing red, his hair a ratty mess, features too warped with rage to have ever registered as handsome, at least not while they were fighting to the death.

But now he doesn’t have the luxury of not noticing.

It’s just another thing to be annoyed at him over.

“Grateful? Why-”

“There are so many demons after Shishu; Liǔ-Shishu’s practically defenceless right now,” He runs a thumb over a nick under his jaw, a close call from a time he had Xin Mo at Liǔ Qingge’s throat. Their current position is also reminiscent of that memory. “It would be so easy for someone to snatch you away from us.”

Does he remember that? Is he remembering it now?

Did those fights stick in his memory as much as they were trapped in his? Were they also the only spots of bloody violent colour in his memories of those dull five years without Shen Qingqiu?

Is Shen Qingqiu watching them now, like this?

He turns his head to try and fruitlessly gaze through the curtain of curls to see him (to avoid the intensity of Binghe’s stare).

The demon growls, the hand that was just prodding at him tangles in his hair and yanks until he is staring back up at Binghe. “I’m talking to you Shishu.” His voice is so loud in his ear, deep, resonant and silky.

“What if they bundled you up and stole you away, or held you down to have their way with you?” The hand around his wrists tighten, enough to bruise. Another mark, the thought is oddly thrilling, the noise he makes in response is mortifying. “What would you do then?”

“You-”

“Me.”

“Binghe.” Shen Qingqiu’s voice cuts through whatever trance had settled over Binghe. “I think your Shishu has had enough.”

The demon wrenches back, grip on his wrists loosening just enough for Liǔ Qingge to sharply tug his hands away and push him of. Luo Binghe falls away easily and scrambles to his feet.

Despite his earlier teasing, the demon seems shell-shocked. “Shizun, I- This one-”

“Binghe should clean up and start on dinner,” Shen Qingqiu says as he rises from his seat. His expression is carefully blank.

Luo Binghe nods sharply and practically runs into the bamboo house.

---

Liǔ Qingge has been to many tense dinners, pointless diplomatic dinners with other sects, the twice a decade family dinner he allows Mingyan to drag him to, Shen Qingqiu wedding banquet where they all had to not acknowledge that he and his husband absconded less than an hour in.

Tonight’s dinner might be the most awkward. One of the worst, especially after what just happened. Whatever that even was.

Liǔ Qingge has resolved simply not to think about whatever mental lapse that was. He doesn’t (shouldn’t) miss any aspect of those five years. It feels blasphemous to think of them any part of that time fondly.

Binghe is quiet, which is already unsettling, serving his Shizun’s food without his usual fussing. He’s barely eating, simply poking at his rice to look busy. Shen Qingqiu fills the silence like he typically does, mostly talking about his day, about inter peak gossip he picked up from Shang Qinghua, whatever’s happening in the demon realm.

It’s easy to focus on Shen Qingqiu and not think about anything else, he’d spent years trying and failing to do the opposite. He’s focusing so hard on Shen Qingqiu in fact, that he notices when he gets an odd glint in his eye, one Liǔ Qingge recognizes as a sign of scheming. The first time he’d been on the receiving end of that expression he ended up in a succubus’s freezing cold pond.

Hopefully whatever he’s scheming now will be less humiliating.

---

Shen Qingqiu is aware that this was this is technically all his fault. Yes, he did earlier suggest that his husband challenge Liǔ-shidi to a spar. A friendly spar. But while the energy coming of his husband during the fight wasn’t outwardly hostile it decidedly was not friendly.

As his husband rushes back into the bamboo house to start dinner, Shen Qingqiu can’t quite get the m emory of the two of them tangled on the floor out of his mind, Lou Binghe perched like a very hungry predator and Liǔ Qingge flushed and prone under him. It was rather… compelling.

It also brought an idea, a realization Shen Qingqiu had been mulling over since Binghe went on his morning quest to maim and/or kill Shizun’s suitors (honestly, he had considered it earlier but dismissed the thought as outlandish, they barely tolerated each other). It’s glaring him in the face.

Binghe is courting Liǔ Qingge.

It’s the only answer that makes sense right now, the only thing that explains his husband’s poorly hidden simmering anger at Liǔ Qingge’s pests, obvious jealousy, or his quiet fidgeting worry when his Shishu is out of his sight for too long. Picking fights with the target of your affection is also classic demonic courting, but Binghe has been doing that for years.

It seems unconscious, as if Binghe doesn’t yet know what he’s doing and is solely operating on instinct. Still, husbands encourage each other’s interests; Binghe can certainly do a lot worse than his Shishu.

The man in question is frazzled from the fight but otherwise outwardly unaffected, mechanically nodding along to his mindless chatter as he hoovers down food, probably paying more attention to Shen Qingqiu words than he is.

Ah, Liǔ Qingge is so sweet

He wouldn’t mind being co-husbands with him. He can almost picture it, Liǔ Qingge not just visiting them but living with them, absconding of the peak together to track down some beast. The demon realm has much more dangerous quarry, Liǔ Qingge would like it despite some initial grumbling, he and Binghe would probably turn it into another pointless competition, which will inevitably turn into a fight.

At least then their fights could end much more pleasantly, if today was any indication.

And having a second husband would help with Binghe’s stamina, especially with all the stupid papapa plot pushing flowers they always seem to run into the moment they leave the peak.

Shen Qingqiu is so distracted by his daydream that he almost forgets his plan. He just needs to get Binghe to realize what he wants and he’ll take over with his protagonist powers from there.

He already bent one straight man!

Binghe just needs a little nudge.

Notes:

I estimate this story being 10ish chapters? Then I've got plans for sequels.

As always comments and kudos are more than welcome!

Chapter 5: To Court A War God

Notes:

CW angst and self-loathing in the beginning I guess? Nothing to intense but it would feel wrong to flash-bang y'all with that with no warning. Also I'm removing some character tags because I've decided that'll work better in planned sequels.

Binghe is trying desperately not to look at Liǔ Qingge which only brings into sharp focus how much his eyes naturally gravitate towards the peak lord. The man in question seems to have no trouble not looking at Binghe.

That well of emotion burst unbidden from his chest. He no longer has the luxury of ignorance to keep them unidentifiable. He desperately wants Liǔ Qingge to pay attention to him, look at him like he was something that mattered.

Greedy

Sometimes Binghe feels like a cracked vessel, a broken thing yearning to be filled with Shizun’s love and attention, but never capable of having enough. Even he had underestimated how avaricious he could be, never thinking he would yearn for anything, anyone else. Never thinking he could.

Shizun is more than enough, has to be enough.

He is not some spoiled, ill adjusted, whoremonger, he doesn’t need a harem, the very idea makes his skin crawl.

And yet he feels disgusted by the share scale of his want. When had he allowed this rot to fester. Binghe has never been indifferent to Liǔ Qingge; How could he? For the longest time his Shishu was the greatest threat to keeping Shizun. While every other rival faded to the background, he spent years fixating over his Shishu’s every potential move in regard to Shizun, clearly that obsession had mutated, turned into something hungry.

Greedy, selfish, ungrateful

Had Shizun noticed his wandering eye? Luo Binghe had spent years reassuring Shizun that he wasn’t bereft without a harem, that Shizun was all he would ever need, (that he was nothing like that beast wearing his face) would he think less of him? Would this unchecked desire lower him in Shizun’s esteem?

He will have to find some way to squash it, before it ruins everything.

(He knows that’s simply not possible, that he’s never been good at letting people go. Everyone at this table knew that intimately, had died or nearly died learning that.)

Speaking of obsessions, while Luo Binghe is sinking into quiet self-loathing, he is of course still paying careful attention to his husband, so he knows when he changes from his previous topic, a rant about Shang Qinghua’s horrible newest manuscript.

“Binghe had such a busy day but still managed to bring presents for his Shishu,” Shizun gestures to the overstuffed bloody qiankun pouch tucked in a corner of the room. Binghe was planning to sneak that thing out and forget about its contents, along with whatever unwanted urge had possessed him to gather all those spoils. “Isn’t that so thoughtful?”

He directs the question at Liǔ Qingge who freezes up, mantou bun half-way to his mouth. He shrugs and a familiar irritation flares in Luo Binghe’s gut.

During the first duel he sliced of a gem demon’s finger. The clear crystalline appendage was itself decorated with a blood ruby ring, said to be able to ward of strikes from all but the strongest cultivators. Binghe had been filled with the immediate instinct to take it, to have something to rub in Liǔ Qingge face and prove to the peak lord (prove to himself) that he was better than whatever grasping lord that may crawl out of the demon realm after. That Luo Binghe could protect him better than he could protect himself.

Anything to have Liǔ Qingge turn his attention to him for anything other than contempt.

Not that he minded contempt, if that was all that was available to him.

“They aren’t presents Shizun,” Binghe whines. “This disciple simply found some artifacts and other odds and ends Shizun and Shishu may find interesting.”

There was also a head in there, a pelt that needed to be cleaned and treated, a couple rings and bracelets (appendages sometimes attached). “Shizun, the contents are much to gruesome and it’s getting late; This disciple will clean and sort them for tomorrow.”

“Binghe was so eager to show off earlier.” He has a mischievous spark in his eye that Binghe mostly associates with the rare times Shizun overcomes his thin face to do something daring. “But fine.”

“This Master hopes Liǔ-shishu will linger in the mornings to have breakfast?” Liǔ Qingge nods. “Good. This master is retiring to bed.”

---

As they stepped into their bedroom, Shen Qingqiu squashed down his embarrassment (after 5 years of marriage he was an expert in that) and grabbed his husband by the collar. It’s more forceful than what comes naturally but the hitch in Binghe’s breath and his dilated pupils are rewarding enough for him to thicken his and pull him down till their lips met.

Binghe is a much better kisser now, has improved so much, only bites a little, no longer turns their kisses frantic like he thinks this’ll be the last opportunity they’ll ever get. Shen Qingqiu’s supposed to be assertive (he has plans!) but he practically melts into the quickly overwhelming sensation drawn out his husband’s talented mouth (tongue insistent and sure against his), and roaming hands (skimming down his sides then under his robes, settling on his waist, a heavy reassuring weight).

He pulls back, to catch his breath, recalibrate and remember what he’s supposed to do next.

Binghe whines as soon as he pulls back, even as he tucks his face against his neck, seemingly his favourite place in the world, and laps at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, sucking a bruise right above his pulse point. “Shizun.”

“This husband missed Binghe very much today,” His face is very thin, so he has to keep going before he loses his nerve, he has a plan after all, even though he is rapidly forgetting what that plan is.

“Not as much as this husband missed you.” Binghe’s grip tightens for a moment, thumbs kneading circles into the flesh of his hips. “Allow this husband to demonstrate.”

“Only if you can be quiet, we have a guest after all,” Their bedroom door had silencing talismans built in, it’s impossible for Liǔ Qingge to hear anything but it’s fun to pretend. “Binghe did a good job protecting his Shishu today.”

“Shizun,” His husband seems immediately torn between preening at the praise or protesting, his voice has the little tremor it usually only takes on when he’s about to shed a few tears. “This-“

“Binghe’s been a good boy.” He continues. Binghe’s words melt into a whimper, so susceptible to even a hint of praise. “Will Binghe take me to bed now? Let me reward him for being so good?”

Shen Qingqiu can’t recount how they actually got to bed or how Binghe stripped him of most of his robes, mind already moving honey slow as he melts under his husband’s ministrations, his eager mouth leaving a trail of hickeys down his neck and onto his chest. Shen Qingqiu is shocked back to full consciousness by Binghe’s teeth catching a nipple between his canines, rolling the bud carefully along the sharp edge.

Shen Qingqiu just barely manages to muffle a high-pitched squeal with the back of his hand.

“No, this husband wants to hear you,” He whispers against Shen Qingqiu’s skin, tongue laving over one nipple and across to the other as he helps Binghe helps slide out the remanets of his clothes. “Please let me hear you.”

Right, he’s supposed to be making noise. He’s supposed to be doing something else to; he’s let himself get distracted yet again. “You don’t want your Shishu to overhear… do you?”

“What would Liǔ-shidi do if he could hear us now?” He continues before he can lose his nerve. The words are foreign to his mouth but not to his ears. Usually, Binghe was the one bringing Liǔ Qingge up in the bedroom as an imaginary voyeur.

Perhaps signs abounded.

For a moment he’s worried his husband’s vinegar drinking tendencies would rare their head and sour the moment, but the words have their desired effect. Binghe moans and hurriedly tears of the rest of their clothes. Yet another bedroom casualty among numerous others. Shen Qingqiu isn’t in the right mind to be miffed.

“Shizun… he wouldn’t know what to do with himself!” Binghe pulls back and scrambles for their bedside lube. He uncorks the vail and pours a generous amount onto two fingers, rubbing them together to warm the liquid up. The sight is oddly hypnotic, Binghe has such nice hands.

“Do you think he touches himself?” Binghe asks as his finger meets Shen Qingqiu’s rim, pad circling the furled muscle. Shen Qingqiu doubts it, Liǔ Qingge seems so pent up. Though he can’t help but imagine it, Liǔ Qingge in bed (their bed?) face twisted in pleasure.

Binghe’s finger pushes in, Shen Qingqiu tilts his hips to guide it, not that Binghe needs the assistance anymore, Binghe is well acquainted with every inch of his body. The sensation grows from good to overwhelming when Binghe adds a second finger and hits his sweet spot. His other hand wraps around Shen Qingqiu’s cock, glide made easy and smooth by his slicked hand. He’s almost to overwhelmed to hear his next question, despite Binghe leaning down to whisper in his ear. “Do you think he thinks about you?”

What? This isn’t supposed to be about him. “Liǔ-shidi doesn’t-”

“He does, probably lies awake with nothing but you on his mind, to wound up to even touch himself,” He adds a third finger and fans them out, robbing Shen Qingqiu of the last words of that sentence. His fists tangle in the sheets, as he tries not to come from the sensation of Binghe’s talented fingers stroking and pressing where he knows Shen Qingqiu likes it best. “A stiff breeze would probably set him off.”

His words remind him of Liǔ Qingge’s bewilderment at the succubus’ lair, when he didn’t know what Shen Qingqiu meant when he tried to give him privacy, or his scrunched up bullied face peering up at him from the Madam Meyin’s pool.

“What if he could see you like this? Liǔ-shishu’s always barging in, what if one day he breaks down the door and walks in on you like this?” They don’t have sex in the main room for precisely this reason! Not after so many close calls.

Shen Qingqiu can’t help but imagine it though, first Liǔ Qingge’s look of shock then embarrassment. Would he run of immediately or would he linger, spluttering out apologies while his face only gets redder and redder?

His husband appears to be thinking the same thing, because he just keeps talking even as he crooks his fingers to press right against Shen Qingqiu’s prostate. At the same time, his other quickens, thumb swiping over the head of his cock. “He’d turn so pink.”

It’s all too much. Shen Qingqiu grabs Luo Binghe by the shoulders and rolls them over, clambering over Binghe on unsteady legs. He reaches back, lines Binghe up and sinks down, punching simultaneous moans out of both of them. Binghe’s hands fly to his hips, guiding him further down until their hips are flush together.

Binghe is so deep inside him, filling him impossibly. Like always it’s almost too much. “Binghe is so good,” Shen Qingqiu whimpers, rising up just a fraction before plunging back down. “So good for me.”

He feels so loose limbed and he’s already embarrassingly close to coming, so despite being on top, Binghe’s doing most of the work. His hands are like a brand on Shen Qingqiu hips, hot and heavy as he uses that grip to move him; Up until he almost slips out then sharply downward.

“Shizun-” Binghe’s own hips snapping upwards to meet him with equal force, sending white hot sparks of pleasure up his spine. “Feels perfect, so tight around me-”

Shen Qingqiu falls across his chest, feeling boneless as he lets himself be pulled along by the sensation, all thoughts of anything beyond that and how good he feels being steadily fucked out of him. He’s too full to do much thinking.

Binghe pulls him into a kiss by the back of the neck, Shen Qingqiu gasping into Binghe’s mouth as his husband carves into him. Binghe’s lips drift downward, sucking and biting a trail on the unmarked side of his neck. All the while his husband murmurs praise and filth against his skin about how good he feels, how beautiful he feels when he’s lost in pleasure, how happy Binghe is to be tangled this close with him.

He rides this edge for a while, but he finds himself rapidly approaching his climax, to fucked out to do more than sob against Binghe’s chest as his is pleasure peaks and he spills onto Binghe’s chest. Binghe rears up, flipping them over yet again as he keeps going, fucking him through his orgasm’s crest and fall. The overstimulation is bordering on too much, but he lets Binghe wring him dry.

Years of improvement doesn’t affect Binghe’s demonic stamina, so he manages to squeeze two more orgasms out of Shen Qingqiu before he finally finishes, face buried in the crook of Shen Qingqiu’s neck, continuing to whisper endless praise and ‘I love you’s over his pulse.

Binghe doesn’t pull out immediately and Shen Qingqiu is too tired and spaced out to swat him of (besides, of all Binghe’s fantasies, cock warming at least doesn’t require much effort from him). He simply basks in the afterglow and enjoys the weight of Binghe blissed out and grinning like a maniac on top of him. So far, he doesn’t push for another round Shen Qingqiu is willing to indulge him.

What was he supposed to be doing right now?

---

Sometime later, after Binghe reluctantly pulls out and cleans him down, Binghe blows out all their candles but one and otherwise prepares the room for sleep. He is only gone for a minute or to, but Shen Qingqiu misses him until he crawls back into bed and lays his head on Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder.

“Why did Shizun bring up Liǔ-shishu?” Binghe fixes him with a wide tearful gaze, a pitch perfect performance from a supreme hypocrite.

Binghe, you can’t start crying after you basically started this!

Shen Qingqiu reaches forward and flicks his nose, which briefly shocks him out of his tears, “Binghe has no ground to stand on, this master was simply following your lead,” He admonishes. “Binghe’s gotten so fond of his Shishu over the years, always bringing him up.”

“And Binghe’s seems to be getting along better with his Shishu; You went a whole day without getting into a fight.” And it was transparent that he deliberately goaded Liǔ-shidi into that fight to get his attention. “Although if you want his attention there are easier ways to get it.”

“This disciple only needs Shizun’s attention.” Binghe’s voice has a frantic edge to it, as if he’s desperate to convince both of them. “This one is faithful only to-”

“Calm down Binghe, this husband isn’t upset,” He cards his fingers through Binghe’s curls. He melts eagerly into his touch. “I can hardly blame you for noticing your Shishu.”

“You’re not the only one, Liǔ-shidi is quite the catch, huh?” At the reminder of Liǔ Qingge’s pest problem all the tension that melted out of him quickly returns. “See, Binghe’s so possessive of his Shishu.”

“I simply needed to teach my subjects to stay in their place,” He turns away, looking actually honestly bashful for once in his life.

“Is that why Binghe’s been making enough for Liǔ-shidi at every meal, even when I don’t ask?” Shen Qingqiu smirks, it feels good to finally have one up on the protagonist. “Or why you goaded Liǔ Qingge into a fight because he wasn’t giving you enough attention?”

Binghe blinks up at him owlishly, before realization dawns on his face. “Does Shizun think I’ve caught feelings for Liǔ-shishu?”

Shen Qingqiu hand drifts from Binghe’s curls down to cup his face, thumb rubbing over his cheek. “Have you?”

“This disciple- I-I… don’t know...” Binghe starts and stops, for once in his life stumped for words. “I don’t know how to love more than one person at a time.”

---

Shizun is the smartest person Luo Binghe knows, but his one glaring blind spot is knowledge of his own desirability, so it makes perfect sense that he notices Binghe’s growing… feelings for Liǔ Qingge before he notices Liǔ Qingge’s feelings for him. Under his piercing dark gaze, Binghe can't bring himself to lie.

For the earliest years of his life, all Binghe had was his a-niang. It wasn’t an easy life, but it was theirs. She was the centre of his world, his most important person and then she was gone. Her wishes had given him the drive to get here, into Shizun’s arms, who soon became his singular focus.

Luo Binghe is aware that his love doesn’t so much border on obsession as leap right over the line. If Binghe could crawl into Shizun’s chest and stay there he would. If he could find a way to fasten Shizun forever to him, to ensure with absolute finality they could never be separated again he would kill for that. Shizun is the first thought in his head as he rises and the last thing on his mind as he sleeps.

But he wasn’t the only one anymore. Liǔ Qingge had stubbornly wormed his way into his mind over the years, and the last few days had made that reality too stark to ignore or dismiss solely as rivalry.

“Does Binghe want to?” Shizun’s gaze is warm, full of understanding as if he can read the answer on Binghe’s face, but for once he can’t look at him. He turns his head, hiding his face against Shizun’s chest to avoid his gaze.

Binnge is crushed under the share force of his want.

He wishes the want felt wrong, then it would be easy to dismiss. But it feels almost alien in its rightness. As if a new space in his heart had simply grown in the dark to accommodate while he’d done his best to ignore it.

“Does Shizun?” It’s a deflection of course, but he’s also curious. If Shizun admitted he wanted Liǔ Qingge as well then, his desire would be okay, wouldn’t it? They could both have him. “Shizun thinks so highly of Liǔ-shishu, one would think you also…”

It’s the closest Binghe is ready to get to an admission, but Shizun is too busy spluttering to notice. “I- This master simply noticed his husband’s growing… affection for his Shishu and wanted to let Binghe know he was free to pursue.”

“Hmm, are you sure Shizun?” He turns back to face his husband, who’s slowly turning pink, his hand flexes, as if he wishes he was holding a fan. “Would Shizun be happy if it was anyone else?”

“No-” Shen Qingqiu spits out before quickly clamping his mouth shut.

“Really? So Liǔ Qingge is exceptional?” Binghe grins, both from that tacit admission and from Shizun’s rarely seen jealousy poking out. “Shizun does love to talk up Shishu’s virtues.”

Binghe has had to overhear many comments and outright lectures about Liǔ Qingge’s many qualities. The memories aren’t as awash with vinegar as they once were; He’s glad to have them as ammunition at least. “Shizun likes to bring up Liǔ-shishu’s fighting prowess, or his strength or his pretty face.”

Shizun only gets more flustered. “Those are all objectively true!”

“Shizun must see many other objectively beautiful people,” Binghe rises up from Shizun’s chest to hover over him. “How often does he feel the need to mention them?” 

 “I’m supposed to be convincing you!” Shizun pokes him accusingly in the chest, though Binghe can tell he’s getting nervous as the table suddenly turns on him.

“And Shizun’s efforts may be working, but this disciple can’t contain his curiosity.” Binghe can’t help the smirk that blooms on his face. “Is Shizun simply selflessly looking after his disciple’s desires or does Shizun also have his own wants?”

“Did Shizun enjoy our fight earlier? Like seeing him under me?” He leans down, till he is whispering directly in Shizun’s ear. “Or does Shizun want to do more than watch?”

He continues, lips a whisper away from Shizun’s flawless skin. “If Shizun wants Liǔ Qingge too this disciple will gladly follow his lead.”

For a moment Shizun is silent, to stunned to speak, but he quickly recovers.

He turns his head, so Luo Binghe, regretfully, only see half his face. “Perhaps this master is also interested.”

Binghe grins as a giddy hopeful feeling blooms in his core. Perhaps it is possible to hold two unconflicting desires in one’s heart without breaking.

Shizun turns back, “If we are going to pursue this, Binghe will need to adjust how he’s been courting his Shishu so far.”

“So far?” The giddy feeling briefly stutters to a stop. “Shizun! This disciple would never do that without your permission.”

“Not consciously, but Binghe must know how demonic courting works.” Shizun sighs and plants a kiss to the wrist bracketing his face. “The fighting, gifting spoils of a fight or hunt… I’m just surprised you haven’t bitten him yet.”

Binghe freezes. He definitely has bitten Liǔ Qingge at least once.

“The gifts are a good idea, Liǔ-shishu is always gifting rare beasts, so perhaps it’s time to reciprocate,” Shizun muses, completely missing the obvious connection between that and Liǔ Qingge’s own behaviour. “We can invite him for a hunt tomorrow? He’s probably already stir crazy from being stuck on Cang Qiong.”

Shizun continues planning out their courtship for some time before drifting to sleep and Binghe follows soon after. Out of habit, he peaks into Shizun’s dreams, finding him dreaming of the three of them floating peacefully in an enchanted pool. Something to question him about in the morning. He draws out of Shizun’s dreams and nearly fully settles into his own sleep when he realizes there’s another dreaming mind in their house.

It wouldn’t be so bad would it, to take a quick look? If they were successful in their courtship, he’ll be pestering Liǔ Qingge in his dreams all the time. It’s just a sneak peek. With that justification, he lets himself look.

Liǔ Qingge is dreaming of one of their fights, not a specific one, the details are too jumbled up, but it’s set in Haun Hau. Lou Binghe watches as Liǔ Qingge and a phantasmal copy of himself tear through the palace until Liǔ Qingge is finally pinned.

Odd, he assumed Liǔ Qingge would let himself win in his dreams.

The copy lifts Xin Mo to Liǔ Qingge’s neck, barely nicking the skin. Blood wells up from the wound, more than what should come from such a small wound. This copy of him is monstrous, glowing red eyes, mouthful of canines, nails sharp and long like talons.

Is this how Liǔ Qingge still thinks of him?

What hope does their courtship have if this is how Liǔ Qingge still thinks of him, as a beast?

Maybe contempt is worse.

His morbid thoughts are interrupted, thankfully by a snarl. Their swords are gone without a trace, melted away as is in the nature of dreams. Instead, the copy has Liǔ Qingge by the throat, gripping, but not choking, with blood smeared hands. Binghe is preparing to leap directly into the dream and interrupt but is stopped in his tracks as the copy leans down to kiss Liǔ Qingge fiercely on the lips.

---

Liǔ Qingge is by no means adept at social cues, but he can tell when he is being watched. Shen Qingqiu is watching him. He refuses to meet his eyes and looks away whenever Liǔ Qingge looks in his direction, but Liǔ Qingge can see him staring from his periphery. Luo Binghe is worse, he makes no effort to hide his staring.

That’s not the strangest thing, the demon insists on serving him breakfast like he typically does for his Shizun. If Liǔ Qingge didn’t know any better, he would think Binghe is making a point to accidentally brush against each other as he does. If he is, it’s probably a new irritation tactic.

Their strange behaviour is only making Liǔ Qingge’s goal, have breakfast and make it through whatever nonsense Luo Binghe has in store for the ‘gifts’ as quickly as possible so he can run of to his own peak. All so he doesn’t have to look at either of them while last night’s dream is still fresh on his mind.

It’s not the first time Liǔ dreamt of Huan Haun of course, the memories are simply branded to deep in him to not be a reoccurring subject, but it’s never been like that. Not that it was anything to scandalous, the kiss had shocked him awake. Still, he shouldn’t be dreaming about someone else’s husband, and he definitely shouldn’t be dreaming about Luo Binghe. It’s humiliating, to have his mind betray him, clearly the time he’s spent here is already far too much. It probably also had something to do with the pin he’s not thinking about, which is odd because he’s not supposed to be thinking about it.

He will head to An Ding first, to bully Shang Qinghua into fixing his home today so he doesn’t have to spend yet another night here.

Throughout breakfast the strange behaviour only intensifies. Shen Qingqiu carries most of their conversation, that at least is typical, but Binghe makes an effort to talk to him. It’s stilted, as if Luo Binghe is as unsure of his actions as Liǔ Qingge, but it’s remarkably less hostile. He asks Liǔ Qingge about what hunt he has planned next, the python-frog, while topping up Liǔ Qingge’s plate until he has to shoo him of.

If this is some new way to be annoying tactic it isn’t working, in fact it’s almost pleasant.

After breakfast, Luo Binghe returns with something bundled in a square of fine silk. It’s small enough to sit in the palm of Binghe’s (admittedly large) hand.

“Last night this disciple promised to show Liǔ-shishu everything I had won for him,” For him? “But this disciple was over eager, many of the items need to be properly inspected, but this is safe.”

What?

He carefully unwraps the bundle. Inside is a sword tassel made of a three-pointed jet-black crystal, so dark that it seems to absorb the light that hits it. They’re looking at him expectantly but Liǔ Qingge has no idea what they expect from him. If it’s just Luo Binghe, he would assume it was just a trick but Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t play along if was. At least, he hopes so.

So if this isn’t a trick what is it?

Notes:

Longer than usual chapter, been cooking on this for a while lol. You're never going to get any kind of consistent upload schedule from me, especially not while law school is kicking my as.

I haven't written smut in over a year so I have no fucking clue if any of this is actually good, constructive criticism more than welcome.

On the topic of smut here's a list of my favorite BingLuiShen fanfics:
Crack Cocaine. Go nuts.

My Tumblr for SVSSS related stuff is @fandom-derangment-quarantine, shoot me an ask there if you wanna talk or send asks related to this fic, SVSSS or danmei’s in general.
My main blog is @gay-little-treat-wizard/gay-little-treat-wizard.tumblr.com, I sell potions on request there as well as sometimes post my own original fiction.

Chapter 6: To Heal A War God

Notes:

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh

Binghe is sprawled across Shen Qingqiu’s lap, moping. Shen Qingqiu shared his distress and felt that he was for once not being dramatic. This morning had ended disastrously. At first, Liǔ-shidi just seemed flustered by Binghe’s unusual hospitality, a confused frown on his face as Binghe plied him with food. A frown that only deepened when Binghe presented him with the sword tassel.

They had decided not to dump all the presents on him at once, not wanting to overwhelm him. Besides, Liǔ Qingge isn’t fond of jewellery so half the presents needed to be melted down and repurposed into something useful (and Shen Qingqiu isn’t sure how Liǔ Qingge would feel about the severed head). Considering his reaction, that is likely for the best.

Liǔ-shidi hadn’t just rejected the gift, he smacked the sword tassel out of Binghe’s hand with such force that it embedded in the wall before storming out the house.

“This master is sure we just need to change our approach.” Shen Qingqiu cards his fingers through his husband’s hair. To tell the truth, Shen Qingqiu is also rather despondent, he didn’t think courting Liǔ-shidi would be easy, but he didn’t expect such an explosive reaction. “Maybe Liǔ-shidi doesn’t like gifts?”

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t think that is actually true, in fact he picked that sword tassel to match the one he had gifted Liǔ Qingge two New Year’s ago, a little golden charm of an open fan. Liǔ Qingge had spluttered through thanks and turned beat red.

“Or maybe Liǔ-shidi doesn't like me!” Luo Binghe gazes up at him, tears in his eyes. Shen Qingqiu can tell he’s genuinely worried; the crying is only a little fake. He plants a kiss on Binghe’s forehead to distract both of them (why does Binghe have to look so pretty when he cries?)

“Nonsense,” Highly unlikely, especially after Liǔ Qingge’s dream. “Liǔ-shidi just isn’t used to you being so nice; you fought only yesterday.”

“Give him some time to get used to it.” He soothes. “We’ll have a better chance on the night hunt tonight.” Liǔ Qingge had stormed of before they could invite him, so they’ll just have to go to Bai Zhan themselves.

Binghe perks up immediately, “This one will prepare provisions.”

“Yes, in fact, pack for a few days, and bring a tent we’ll make it a whole excursion.”

Binghe throws himself into preparations while Shen Qingqiu flips through his bestiaries, searching for interesting monsters a few days away from the sect, something Liǔ Qingge could handle while weakened.

The Swarming-Hawk-Python? They’re weak individually but deadly in a group, usually found in abandoned mines perilously close to villages. Binghe and Liǔ Qingge would probably compete to see who can kill the most, Liǔ Qingge would lose and Binghe would tease him. Shen Qingqiu will try and fail to get them to calm down, a fight will break out and then the three of them will be sprawled out and tangled together on the floor.

It was the right season for the Scaled-River-Boar, good to eat and valuable for their tusks. The deer is of course underwater which means they’ll all have to take of their clothes to go spelunking, and Shen Qingqiu can finally learn what Liǔ Qingge’s other nipple looks like.

There’s also the Rain Bringing-Giant-Spitting-Cobra, but Shen Qingqiu would be loath to kill one, they don’t attack un-provoked and they’re very rare, practically endangered. He’d love to see one though, the illustrations in the bestiary are beautiful. They could go sightseeing, possibly get caught in its rain and Binghe would feel obligated to offer both of them his robes.

Shen Qingqiu is avoiding anything with any aphroditic effects, he wants to do this the natural way, not that he’ll be too torn up if they happened to run into sex pollen. His mind helpfully supplies images of Liǔ Qingge flushed red, shivering and begging for-

His musings are unfortunately interrupted by Shang Qinghua arriving with more letters. Binghe takes a break from the kitchen to serve tea and refreshments, too distracted to put much effort into making Shang Qinghua feel unwelcome. While Luo Binghe pours Shen Qingqiu’s tea, Shang Qinghua spreads the letters out on the table.

It’s mostly apologies and offers of recompense as a result of Binghe’s rampage. It’s good they have the decency to pretend to be ashamed, though Shen Qingqiu doubts it will completely stop all Liǔ Qingge’s suitors.

“So, Cucumber-bro, a certain big blue bird told me my son may be courting a new husband,” Shang Qinghua says through a mouthful of sachima (a little anachronistic but they taste so good Shen Qingqiu doesn’t feel the need to needle Airplane about it), his cheeks stuffed like a squirrel’s. “And the rumours I’ve been hearing from the demon realm aren’t helping.”

“He’s not your son and learn how to chew first idiot! And use utensils, your hands are sticky!” Shen Qingqiu swats his hand away when he reaches for another snack. “What rumours?”

Apparently, after Binghe’s rampage, many demons thought they had stumbled upon a courtship in progress, which isn’t exactly wrong, though it’s not quite in progress yet. It’s more correct than the other rumours of an affair behind his back.

This is a joint project, thank you very much!

Shen Qingqiu scoffs but doesn’t out right deny any rumour, other than the last one of course, so Shang Qinghua jumps to his own conclusions.

“You’re finally putting him out of his misery?” He says like the idiot he is. “And Binghe’s accepting it or is he…?”

“Enemies to lovers, 80k, free form slash.” Shen Qingqiu throws his fan square at Shang Qinghua’s forehead, and airplane drops down and out of the way of just in time to avoid it. He’s getting harder and harder to hit every day. “Wish you had told me earlier bro,” Shang Qinghua grimaces. “My disciples are repairing his house right now.”

 “Why did you choose now of all times to be competent?!” Shen Qingqiu whips his fan back with his Qi and a flick of his wrist, nailing him in the back of his head. “Aren’t you supposed to be busier?”

“You can’t blame me! Liǔ-Shidi was very threatening, cracked my desk too.” He rubs the back of his head, trying to look as pathetic as possible. “He seemed kind of desperate.”

“That’s-” Had they made Liǔ-shidi uncomfortable? Maybe he did need some space. Liǔ Qingge is so skittish. “Fine.”

“Cucumber-bro?” He sits back up tentatively and reaches for another sachima. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t stop him. “If it makes you feel better, we’re adding wards to alert when a demon is present.”

Shang Qinghua reaches into his sleeve with his other hand and pulls out a talisman tied on a string. The script is glowing blood red. “Ah… at least we know it’s working.”

---

Liǔ Qingge is back home, trying to meditate in his courtyard. So far, it’s been a failure. There are An Ding students in his other rooms, repairing the damage, so he has silencing talismans up to block out the noise. Still, he is distracted. His mind is going over his outburst this morning over and over again, as well as everything leading up to it.

Liǔ Qingge isn’t sure what compelled Luo Binghe to take on this new frustration tactic, but it was getting under his skin in a way other methods simply had. The demon being irritating was not new, Shen Qingqiu going along with it certainly was. Luo Binghe probably convinced him he was being sincere, which means he’ll be miffed at Liǔ Qingge for his reaction.

Which means he has to apologize because the idea of Shen Qingqiu being displeased with him was upsetting enough to make his stomach curdle. Which means Binghe wins.

Again.

He still can’t fully explain his reaction to himself, Lou Binghe is always aggravating, but usually it at least takes a little more to set him off. But the unexplained kindness left him so flustered, and he simply lashed out on instinct.

His thoughts are in such turmoil; it’s almost a relief when his meditation is interrupted.

“War God!”

He opens his eyes, and leaps to his feet. There are demons on his roof, watching, one jumps down to stand in front of him. Tall, dark haired, standard as far as demons go other than the scales on his face, which explains the old fish smell.

“Jushang has done this one’s clan a great disservice and we require recompense and-”

“Outside.”

He looks indignant, beady eyes full of irritation, as Liǔ Qingge interrupts his planned monologue. “We-”

He unsheathes Chen Laun. “Outside,” His house is still being repaired from the last demon incursion, he doesn’t want to break it again, then he’ll be stuck on Qing Jing even longer. “The arena.”

He hops onto Chen Laun and takes off. His speed is compromised due to his condition, but he’s fast enough to get there and clear of the disciples that were using the arena. The demons, five of them, circle around him. One steps forward and leaps at him.

The first fight ends quickly, the demons have no real technique, just strength. Liǔ Qingge separates him from his head. The second one in more careful, determined, apparently, to win by attrition, by the time Liǔ Qingge kills him he is exhausted, pulling on the last of his Qi reserves.

The third steps forward, “You-”

Liǔ Qingge blinks, one moment the demon is there, the next there’s a corpse crumbled in a heap on the floor riddled with… leaves and bamboo shoots? He feels a familiar spike in demonic energy and scans the arena.

Shen Qingqiu descends into the arena with his demon husband. His expression is open and unguarded for once, so he can’t hide the frantic worry on his face as his gaze quickly flickers between the threats. “Let this master and his husband help you with your pests.”

---

Shen Qingqiu pulls out a silk square to try and dab at the cut on Liǔ Qingge’s cheek while the stubborn man insists his fine and the demons were no match for him as he tries to squirm away. At his full strength that would certainly be true, but now Liǔ is flagging from exhaustion after killing two. Still impressive (as if his shidi could be anything else), but Shen Qingqiu is thankful he and Binghe were able to arrive on time.

Right now, they’re standing in a pool of blood and viscera where three demons used to be. Liǔ-shidi is holding one of their heads by the hair.

“It’s fine.” He grumbles predictably. “I can handle myself.”

Luo Binghe sighs, “Liǔ-shishu is certainly strong but surely even he can see he needed some help?” Liǔ Qingge is staring at Binghe like he’s grown another head. It’s likely the first complement Binghe’s paid his Shishu that didn’t come with a backhanded comment, so Shen Qingqiu doesn’t begrudge his surprise. Binghe honestly looks unused to it himself.

“If Liǔ-shidi won’t let us take him to Qian Cao at least let us do something about these bruises.” Then he adds borrowing a page from Binghe’s page to seem a little pathetic. “Please.”

“Fine.” Liǔ Qingge crumples immediately, letting Shen Qingqiu sling his arm under his shoulder and prop him up. As Binghe goes to prop up his other side, Liǔ Qingge throws him the head. “Keep it, to identify them.”

It’s a gruesome sight, eyes bulging out of their sockets and expression permanently frozen in horrified surprise, but Binghe stares back at the ‘gift’ with mild surprise and his own creeping blush, like a maiden getting a present from her admirer, before stuffing the head in his sleeve.

As they start to exit the arena, Liǔ Qingge barks an order at the gathering students, and they scatter. Despite his bravado, Liǔ-shidi leans into his side, trying to keep weight of a likely injured leg. Shen Qingqiu almost asks Binghe to carry him, but he’s sure Liǔ-shidi would fight that so hard he makes his injuries worse; He seems embarrassed enough as it is.

---

Binghe boots are covered in blood, leaving stark colourful interruptions in Liǔ Qingge’s sad monochrome house. He’ll clean them later, what’s most important is healing the hideous bruises and cuts those demons had left behind.

The demons, disgruntled river demons who were likely furious Luo Binghe killed their crown Princess (which wouldn’t have happened if their princess had kept her lecherous eyes to herself), were easy to pick of. Clearly, they hadn’t been punishing enough, if any demon still had the audacity to come after their…. He isn’t sure what to call Liǔ Qingge at the moment, but the important part is Liǔ Qingge is theirs.

If the cuts scar and Luo Binghe has to see their marks of his Shishu for the rest of his life, he will hunt their clan to extinction.

He puts a little too much pressure where he’s massaging healing ointment into the peak lord’s calf, drawing out a hiss of pain. He lets up, hands moving up past Liǔ Qingge’s knee to a bruise on his thigh. It’s a nice thigh, packed with muscle. Binghe thinks about pressing a kiss to the bruise, the way Shizun jokingly does whenever he gets injured, but he’s sure Liǔ Qingge would kick him in the face if he tried.

Another time.

Liǔ Qingge doesn’t fight their care, even unconsciously leans into Binghe’s touch, but he does keep insisting he’s fine, until Shizun was fed up.

“Liǔ-shidi might be fine limping around the sect injured but this master can’t bear to see it.” Shizun snaps, grabbing Liǔ Qingge’s wrist a little to roughly to start passing him Qi. “No wonder Mu Qingfang seems so stressed, if this is how you usually act.” Shizun rarely lets himself get so angry, Binghe grips Liǔ Qingge thigh a little too tight in his distraction.

Liǔ Qingge shoulders drop, and he falls silent for some time, chastened. Binghe can’t help throwing a little fuel on the fire.

“Let us take of you, Shishu.” Liǔ Qingge flinches, hard, muscle tensing under his hands. Binghe digs his thumbs into a spot he knows Liǔ Qingge is sensitive (the fight he learned that from had been… interesting in hindsight), over one of his old scars and Liǔ Qingge melts, letting out a quiet little gasp before he clamps his mouth shut.

Binghe really wants to hear what other sounds he can wring from him. He moves to Liǔ Qingge’s other leg, fingers tracing another thin scar up from his ankle. “What are you doing?”

“Applying ointment so Shishu heals quicker,” Binghe stares innocently up at him, there’s a mole right on Liǔ Qingge’s knee that he idly circles. Shizun rolls his eyes but dips his own fingers into the ointment and cups Liǔ Qingge’s reddened face.

“This master was going to organise a night hunt for the three of us tonight, since Liǔ-shidi is likely eager to leave the sect, but we can’t go until Liǔ Qingge heals.” Shizun rubs a dollop of ointment into the cut on Liǔ Qingge’s cheek. “So Liǔ-shidi better behave if he wants that.” Shizun pinches his uninjured cheek, hard, and Liǔ Qingge has to clamp his mouth shut again to stifle another sound.

Oh, Shishu likes that.

Binghe stores that information away for later.                                                                    

Shizun’s words and Luo Binghe ministrations seem to have the desired effect, Liǔ Qingge accepts their care with no further complaint, staring at his hands in his lap as he just gets a darker and darker red, like a hawthorn berry.

He does jump slightly, when Binghe’s fingers slip under his robes momentarily to rub ointment onto the bruises on his stomach. Binghe can’t decide if he’s happy or not that the bruises don’t extend to his chest. It’s for the best, Liǔ Qingge looks on the verge of Qi deviating.

Eventually, regrettably, they have to be done.

Shizun’s hands drop from where they’re smearing ointment over Liǔ Qingge’s bicep. He props his chin on his Shixiong’s shoulder, his own face belying how flustered he seems. “Shidi, is obviously not safe in his home until the poison is healed,” He declares. “He’ll just have to stay with us.”

“I’ve already imposed enough I can-”

Impose? Liǔ Qingge was barely a ghost in their house.

He should impose more.

“Is there someone you’d rather stay with?” Shizun asks, they all know the answer to that of course.

“No-” He turns his head to look Shen Qingqiu in the eye before immediately whipping his head back and fixing his gaze on the floor. He’s not surprised, Shizun can be a lot when he’s not even trying. “It’s just, don’t you want your space back?” He looks to Binghe, as if he’s expecting Luo Binghe to jump in.

He smiles sweetly. “Hmm, this disciple would be glad to have Shishu be our guest,” Forever, until Liǔ Qingge no longer feels the need to return to his sad grey house. They’ll move his keepsakes into the bamboo house, add training equipment to their back garden, commission a larger bed. It’ll be perfect.

One step at a time though.

Seeing that yet again Lou Binghe isn’t going to throw a tantrum to keep him out of the house and Shizun is resolute, Liǔ Qingge relents. “Fine.”

---

They stand outside Liǔ Qingge’s house, ready to disembark. There’s just one problem of course, he has to ride back with one of them.

On the same sword.

After last night, and this morning and whatever just happened just a few minutes ago, Liǔ doesn’t think it’ll be a good idea to be pressed that close to either of them. Yet another item for his rapidly growing list of things he refuses to think about.

“I can fly myself.” He reaches for Cheng Luan and Shen Qingqiu smacks him in the arm with his fan.

“Don’t me ridiculous, Liǔ-shidi is injured.” Shen Qingqiu scoffs from where he’s perched on Xiu Ya.

Liǔ Qingge wants to point out that he’s flown under worse conditions before, just a few days ago in fact, but he doubts that’ll help his argument. It’ll likely just set Shen Qingqiu of again.

“If Liǔ-shishu would rather be carried this disciple will oblige.” Luo Binghe is on Zheng Yang which still doesn’t completely look right. It’s not the sword Liǔ Qingge usually pictures him with, not the sword that typically features in his drea-

Nope, not thinking about it.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” He snaps, no matter how out of his element he may feel, he can count on Luo Binghe to say something aggravating.

“If the idea is so ridiculous then Shishu should decide before this disciple decides for him.” He sounds light-hearted, but Liǔ Qingge knows him well enough to detect a threat when he hears it.

He steps onto Xiu Ya and the demon has the audacity to grumble. As if he had much of a choice.

“Binghe behave,” Liǔ Qingge holds onto Shen Qingqiu by the shoulders. He tuts. “Liǔ-shidi will have get a better hold on this master if he doesn’t want to fall out of the sky.”

“This is fine.”

“Is that all shidi know how to say?” He turns around, grabs Liǔ Qingge’s arms and set them at either side of his waist. “Hold on tighter.”

Liǔ Qingge complies, even as he gets redder in the face. How could he not, when Shen Qingqiu is right there? A solid warm presence so close to him. It almost looks like their embracing.

Soon they lift of, and Liǔ Qingge has to endure the most nerve-wracking flight of his life, worse than the first time he flew solo on Cheng Luan. Somehow Shen Qingqiu and his husband are able to make small talk on the short ride over.

“What do Shizun and Shishu want for lunch? This disciple was considering roast duck?”

Binghe’s behaviour just seems stranger and more contradictory every second. First, he’s goading Liǔ Qingge into a fight (he can tell when he’s being goaded, it just doesn’t make the demon less annoying), then he’s offering him a present the next morning, only to go back to jealousy when he elects to ride with Shen Qingqiu (what did he expect, that Liǔ Qingge would be wrapping his arms him?). Now he’s asking his what he wants to eat, as if he cares about Liǔ Qingge’s opinion.

“That sounds lovely Binghe, though everything you make is amazing,” The demon preens under his praise. “Shidi?”

They’re both looking at him again, like they had this morning (the morning he’s not supposed to be thinking about), as if his opinion was somehow crucial. “It’s f- That sounds good.”

Luo Binghe grins, wide and earnest without a hint of the usual subterfuge Liǔ Qingge has learned to expect from him. As if his opinion mattered deeply.

Liǔ Qingge is suddenly glad he’s on Shen Qingqiu’s sword, the sight blinding enough to send him veering of course.

---

As Binghe serves lunch and Shen Qingqiu flips through bestiaries while making little comments here and there, Liǔ Qingge’s gaze remains fixed on the sword tassel embedded in the wall across from him. The guilt from earlier resettles in his stomach. He stands up, Shen Qingqiu makes a questioning sound.

He pries the sword tassel from where it’s embedded in the wall. “I’m sorry.” He blurts out, before he can overthink.

Luo Binghe pauses, sets down a plate of dish and stares, studying Liǔ Qingge like he’s a code he needs to crack. Evidently, he reaches a satisfactory solution because he flashes one of his disarming smiles.

“You’re forgiven.” He says easily, as if anything has ever been easy between the two of them. “But this disciple insists Shishu must accept the gift.”

Liǔ Qingge scowls, what’s so special about the sword tassel? Why is he so insistent? “Why?”

“Why not?” The demon shrugs. “This disciple wanted Liǔ-shishu to have it.”

Shen Qingqiu temporarily sets aside his books to speak up. “Shidi, Binghe made spring rolls specifically for you; Have a sit and try it.”

Liǔ Qingge sits and Shen Qingqiu immediately starts discussing the difference between horned and tusked gecko-panthers while Binghe plies him with food. He feels an odd sense of déjà vu from this morning, but he’s willing to ignore that for the time being, to pretend that the strange reversal in hostilities from Binghe isn’t some trick for now. Especially if it comes with spring rolls.

How did Luo Binghe know they were his favourites?

Notes:

Liǔ Qingge needs to be gentle dommed into taking care of himself. It's the only way.

Chapter 7: To Care for A War God

Notes:

When I said don't expect a consistent update schedule from me I meant that in a good way as well.

If Shen Qingqiu is happy to go along with whatever farce this is, Liǔ Qingge will play along. He just has to keep his guard up, so that whenever Luo Binghe finally gets bored of the game he’s playing and pulls the rug out from under him, he won’t be surprised. And if the demon isn’t scheming and this attitude adjustment is sincere? Liǔ Qingge will cross that bridge if comes.

After they finish lunch and Luo Binghe starts cleaning up, Liǔ Qingge reaches for his dishes. If he’s living here for the rest of the month he should help clean up.

Luo Binghe grabs his wrist before he even touches a plate. “What does Liǔ-Shishu think he’s doing?” Binghe asks, grip on his wrist tightening. Liǔ Qingge hasn’t truly feared this demon in years, so he almost doesn’t recognize the familiar thrill that shoots through his gut.

“I’m trying to help.”

“This disciple can handle clean up by himself; Liǔ-Shishu should focus on recovering.” He’s smiling, but his voice has a desperate edge to it.

“Leave the dishes to Binghe, he has a system to it.” Shen Qingqiu sighs, fan drawn up to hide his expression, but Liǔ Qingge would wager anything he’s currently laughing at them. “Binghe fetch my guqin on your way back, I want to show Liǔ-Shishu the composition I’m working on.”

Binghe drops his wrist and scoops up the dishes with blistering speed, as if he’s afraid Liǔ Qingge will keep trying to help clean up,

“For now, I need to get your opinion on this.” Shen Qingqiu slides closer to Liǔ Qingge, until their thighs are pressed together, he flips to a page in the bestiary. “If we stretch the night hunt out to a few days we might be able to seek out numerous beasts.”

Liǔ Qingge glances down at the line he’s pointing out. The Scaled-River-Boar? Liǔ Qingge doesn’t have much of an opinion, he’ll kill a hundred if that’s what Shen Qingqiu wanted. He says yes to everything else Shen Qingqiu suggests without much thought, occasionally commenting if he’s encountered the creature before. Liǔ Qingge is distracted by his closeness, by the warm line of his body pressed so close to his.

Have they ever sat so close before? Why is Shen Qingqiu acting like it’s normal?

By the time Shen Qingqiu finishes his suggestions, their night hunt ballooned into a five-day trip. They would go for longer, but there’s a peak lord meeting coming up and Shen Qingqiu is insistent on not skipping it.

Partway through, Binghe returns with the guqin tucked under his arm and after lunch tea. Liǔ Qingge starts to move away from Shen Qingqiu, whatever ceasefire they have won’t be helped by their inappropriate closeness. Instead, the demon sets the tray down and sits on Liǔ Qingge’s other side, just as close as Shen Qingqiu. It’s a bit cramped; this side of the table is only really made for two people.

Luo Binghe offers the occasional commentary on Shen Qingqiu’s picks, but Liǔ Qingge is having trouble parsing out anything either of them are saying. He tries to offer to move, so they can sit next to each other, but they both insist this is perfectly fine.

Shen Qingqiu plays beautifully, as usual, eyes closed in concentration as long elegant fingers strum out the start of a song Liǔ Qingge has never heard before.

Liǔ Qingge knows enough about music to know Shen Qingqiu is talented, so his praise feels faint compared to what he wished he had the words to articulate. Luo Binghe doesn’t have that issue, heaping Shen Qingqiu with well-deserved praise.

At least they can agree on that.

Afternoon blends into evening and Liǔ Qingge continues to quietly exist in their space, listening to Shen Qingqiu play until he puts his guqin away. Shen Qingqiu fills the silence effortlessly with his words instead, ripping apart the plot of the latest trashy novel he’s read.

His voice is so soothing, and Liǔ Qingge is so wrung out and tired, he finds himself unconsciously leaning towards him, eyes heavy.

---

Shen Qingqiu is halfway through his description of the third shitty contrivance in his current novel before he realizes Liǔ Qingge has fallen asleep on his shoulder.

His cheek is squished against his shoulder, adorable enough to trigger a little cute aggression. Shen Qingqiu really wants to pinch his cheek. “Ah poor Liǔ-shidi has had such an eventful day,”

“Should we put him to bed?” Binghe asks tentatively. He carefully pushes a loose strand of hair out of Liǔ Qingge’s face, tucking it back behind his ear.

 “Yes, help me carry your Shishu.”

Liǔ Shishu doesn’t wake as they shift around him, even when Binghe carefully scoops him up, arms under his back and knees (The Princess Carry!). He does twitch in his sleep, nose scrunched in displeasure from being moved.

Binghe peers down at him with awed fascination, as if he can’t quite believe this is happening. “Shishu looks quite beautiful like this,” Shen Qingqiu can’t help but agree.

Shen Qingqiu never though he’d get to see his husband holding his shidi so carefully or gazing at his sleeping with such a soft look on his face. Shen Qingqiu picks up Cheng Laun, the sheathed blade hums quietly under his hand. It’s hard to gauge a sword’s ‘emotions’ but it seems content, happy? Hopefully that’s a reflection of its master.

Binghe carries Liǔ-Shishu to his old room, while Shen Qingqiu follows quietly after.

It’s only a facsimile of Binghe’s teenage bedroom, renovated according to their memories. It still feels incongruous to have him here, though not in a bad way, more like finding a new exotic flower in a familiar garden patch.

Shen Qingqiu pulls the sheets back and Binghe gently places Liǔ-shidi on bed, mindful of his injuries. They work quietly, Shen Qingqiu unlacing his boots and Binghe helping him out of his bracers. Shen Qingqiu had said it himself, Liǔ-shidi needs someone who can care for him when he’s ignoring his health, especially when he’s pushed himself to the point of exhaustion. This is their opportunity to prove it!

“Should I braid it Shizun?” Binghe asks after carefully working Liǔ Qingge’s guan out of his hair, leaving the waves to flow over the sheets. “Is that too much?”

Maybe, but Liǔ-shidi might be uncomfortable with his hair all over the place and they’re supposed to be proving how well they can take care of him.

He’s never touched Liǔ-shidi’s hair before.

Is that to intimate to fast?

…

But it looks so silky.

---

“This disciple wonders what kind of dreams Liǔ-Shishu has about Shizun.”

Shen Qingqiu reaches for his fan on his bedside table and swats Binghe on the nose, both because he knows better than to call himself that while they’re in bed (at least not when Shen Qingqiu isn’t sufficiently distracted) and because they’ve already gone over this; he highly doubts he features in any of his Shidi’s more interesting dreams.

Binghe was still convinced that Liǔ Qingge was in love with him. Liǔ Qingge may be devoted to him after Shen Qingqiu saved his life, but that didn’t mean he is in love with him. Because if he is in love him that would mean Liǔ Qingge has been silently holding a torch for him for 10 years while Shen Qingqiu has been blissfully unaware. The mere thought of that was unbearable.

“Don’t be ridiculous Binghe.”

“This d- This husband is being completely serious,” Binghe peers up at him. “Shizun has to see how much Liǔ-Shishu cares for him? And how jealous this husband used to be of him?”

“Binghe seems to be jealous of everyone who takes my time.” Jealous of Liǔ Qingge, of Yue Qingyuan, Shang Qinghua, his other Shidi’s and Shimei’s, his students if he gives out head pats.

“It’s clear to everyone; Ask Shang Qinghua.” They both grimace. “Ask anyone.”

“Fine,” If his husband was willingly admitting Shang Qinghua had a point then clearly this was important.

Binghe doesn’t seem quite satisfied, but lets the matter drop, currently more preoccupied with sneaking his hands further under Shen Qingqiu’s sleeping robes. “Binghe.”

“Husband.”

“Does Binghe want something?”

His eyes are wide and wide and innocent, even as he grabs a palmful of his backside. “Why would Shizun think that?”

He glances down at his waist, where Binghe is pulling at the flimsy strip of cloth keeping his robes tied together.

“A coincidence.”

---

Liǔ Qingge wakes to the scent of jasmine tea and the sun in his face. It’s later in the morning than he typically wakes, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, yesterday’s fight had clearly affected him.

Had he- had he fallen asleep on Shen Qingqiu?

Something else to not think about.

His eyes sweep across the room; despite his best efforts he found his way back here again. His boots are tucked neatly at the foot of the bed. On the bedside table he finds his bracers, qiankun pouch, and guan. Cheng Laun is on a sword stand across from him.

Instead of his guan, his hair braided and kept in place by a red ribbon.

Next to all his things, there’s a cup of tea with a warming talisman stuck to it. It’s not Shen Qingqiu’s handwriting.

Did Shen Qingqiu touch… or did Luo Binghe…

He is embarrassed that he let himself get to that point of weakness, especially in front of them. He burns with shame, but also something else, something warm and not… unpleasant, something he is not used to. Maybe it’s the tea.

His injuries from yesterday have mostly healed, bruises fading, and cuts gone, no aches or pains at all, and still in yesterday's clothes, so after relacing his braces and slipping into his boots he’s ready to step out.

He keeps the braid, in case it’s Shen Qingqiu’s handiwork. (Would it be the worst thing in the world if it was Luo Binghe’s?)

He steps out of Luo Binghe’s old bedroom. Typically, he would be out the door and off to Bai Zhan immediately, but he lingers in the central room. He doesn’t want to leave the bamboo house yet because….

He just doesn't want to leave yet.

There’s noise coming from the kitchen, a steady fire and something bubbling. Of course, Luo Binghe’s up and getting breakfast ready. He could leave before he experiences whatever new thing Binghe has planned to rattle him, or he could stay for breakfast.

Luo Binghe makes that decision for him, stepping into the main room with a tray of food, congee and a variety of sides. He isn’t dressed in his normal green and white disciple robes, instead he’s in finely made black and red Emperor’s robes. It would be intimidating (the sight fills Liǔ Qingge with an odd nostalgia) but that possibility is ruined by the ridiculous frilly apron he has on, one covered with writing in a script Liǔ Qingge doesn’t recognize.

“Liǔ-Shishu! Good morning!” He smiles, bright as Liǔ Qingge remembered. “I’m glad you’re awake; This disciple was worried I’d have to wake you for breakfast.”

He grunts, not sure how to respond to Binghe’s momentary cheerfulness pointed at him. It’s a side of him he’s only caught in glimpses directed at Shen Qingqiu. For all his flaws no one can say he didn’t love Shen Qingqiu with the force of a thousand suns, it’s one of the few things Liǔ Qingge can admit liking about him, his devotion. Shen Qingqiu deserves it and more. “What are you doing?”

“I serve Shizun breakfast in bed if he’s still to… tired from the previous day.” He pushes the tray out towards him. “Hold this.”

“Why?” He asks, even as he grabs the tray.

“I need to serve tea as well,” He explains before quickly, pivoting back into the kitchen. He’s back in a flash. “Let’s go.”

Liǔ Qingge freezes. “To your bedroom?”

The demon smirks. “That’s typically where breakfast in bed is served.”

“I can’t just enter your bedroom.” He stares down at the tray, face reddening. Is Shen Qingqiu even decent? His blush only deepens.

Don’t think about it.

“Why not? I’m letting you in and Shizun definitely won’t mind.” Luo Binghe shrugs as if that was normal, as if any of this was normal, especially for him. “But if Shishu’s too scandalized you can wait here.”

Luo Binghe slips into their bedroom, briefly popping back out to grab the second tray, and Liǔ Qingge only feels a little regret. Is this some new way to taunt him? It seems counterintuitive for Luo Binghe to invite him deeper into their space, but it also seemed counterintuitive to let him stay in their home at all.

While Luo Binghe is out of sight, Liǔ Qingge drifts to the other side of the main room, towards a fan display. Shen Qingqiu has quite the collection but his gaze quickly settles on a particular fan with an artistic depiction of a bamboo grove and a simple brown handle. Liǔ Qingge had picked it out for him more than a decade ago. He didn’t have Shen Qingqiu’s discerning eye when it came to these sorts of things, but it looked finely made and the colours had reminded him of the peak lord.

He doesn’t notice Luo Binghe sneaking up behind him until he rests his head on his shoulder. Liǔ Qingge tenses, waiting for an attack, but the demon doesn’t seem keen on doing so. His gaze settles on the fan as well.

“That’s always been one of Shizun’s favourites. One of the oldest in his collection too,” Binghe muses out loud. “Shizun loves all your gifts.”

Liǔ Qingge shrugs him of and steps away from the fan display.

“Have a sit Shishu,” Luo Binghe still slinks after him. “This disciple cooked for you as well.”

Liǔ Qingge does know how to deal with the warmth those words continue to stoke in his chest.

---

Binghe flits between the main room and their bedroom, checking on Liǔ Qingge and helping Shizun get ready for the day. Binghe is loath to wake Shizun up at all, typically letting his husband rise whenever he likes, but Shizun was very insistent on keeping to their schedule today, so they must set off on time.

As always, Shizun is quite the sight in the morning, soft and undone in a way can’t be in public, robes slipping of his shoulders. His eyelids droop from lingering sleep as he sips a freshly poured cup of tea.

Binghe had wanted to share this sight with Liǔ-Shishu, but he clearly wasn’t ready yet. Shizun had warned him not to be too pushy, though he privately suspects Liǔ Qingge might enjoy being pushed, but Shizun knows best.

 “Shishu is dressed and having breakfast.” He helps Shizun slip into his robes, hands only briefly lingering on his bared skin. “He kept the braid.”

“He did? That’s good.” Shizun smiles softly in the mirror as Binghe pulls his hair into his guan. He leans down to capture Shizun’s lips with his briefly, just to see the beautiful blush bloom on his face.

“This disciple will check on Shishu again,” He wishes he could be in two places at once. He steps back into the main room with Shizun’s dishes. Liǔ Qingge flinches and sits up completely straight, looking back over his shoulder to watch him. His gaze is still full of suspicion.

Binghe grins in response, mostly to hide the irritation that lances through his gut.

What would it take for you to believe I’m not tricking you?

Binghe can tell that Liǔ Qingge is clearly has his misgivings over the sincerity of his recent kindness. It stirs an old dormant insecurity in his gut, that his affections are somehow so intolerable that it had to be forced.

He tamps it down, easily. He is no longer a starving young man who just crawled out of the abyss, mind poisoned by Xin Mo. Liǔ Qingge had plenty of reasons to be distrusting. He simply has to prove his earnestness and his worth, all else will follow.

“Did Liǔ-Shishu enjoy his meal?” Binghe asks as he sits across from him, he doubts Liǔ Qingge would let as close as yesterday without Shizun here.

He grunts, which Binghe will take as a yes. Liǔ Qingge is toying with the ends of his braid, seemingly unconsciously.

Luo Binghe still remembers how his hair felt under his hands, silky as it looks. He pours more tea for the both of them, to keep his hands occupied so he doesn’t reach out to touch it again.

“Shizun wants us to leave by midday so we have plenty of light before we have to make camp.” Binghe explains. “He wants to see the Three eyed-Winged-Lion-Bear but they’re nocturnal.”

Liǔ Qingge nods, but his mind seems far away, lips pressed into a thin line. Binghe lapses into silence, clearly Liǔ-Sishu is parsing through something important. He usually doesn’t bother thinking before he speaks.

Binghe takes the time to study his face. The bruises have mostly healed, from dark blue to a faint yellow. The cut is gone, no scar.

Good, none of those demons were worthy to leave their mark on his Shishu.

Liǔ Qingge drains his cup, still thinking. Binghe pours him another. Liǔ Qingge is so tense, hackles drawn up as if he still anticipated an attack. Binghe can’t help but remember how relaxed he was the day before, enough that he’d fallen asleep on Shizun’s shoulder, face slack and free for once. Like Shizun, Liǔ-Shishu is a pretty sleeper. Maybe one day Liǔ Qingge, like Shizun, could be persuaded to let Binghe-

“Why are you doing this?” Liǔ Qingge blurts out after some time.

“Doing what Shishu?” Binghe knows what he’s talking about of course, but he want to hear him acknowledge it out loud and it’s still fun to rile him up a little.

“This.” Liǔ Qingge waves vaguely between the two of them. “Being nice.” He says it like it’s a dirty word.

“Shizun wants us to get along.” A half-truth, Binghe certainly has his own ends.

Liǔ Qingge scoffs. “Why now then?”

Binghe smiles; Despite everything it’s still fun to rile him up. “Perhaps this one has simply matured.”

Liǔ Qingge levels him with a glare. He clearly doesn’t buy that.

“Does Liǔ Qingge know why this disciple is so angry about all his newly acquired pests?” He asks as he pushes a plate of white rabbit candy to Liǔ Qingge’s side of the table. He knows his Shishu has more of a sweet tooth than he or Shizun.

Liǔ Qingge bristles at the seeming non sequitur. “You’re a demon and you consider Cang Qiong your territory.” He answers dismissively.

This one is certainly territorial.

“Not exactly.” He doesn’t elaborate, Liǔ-Shishu will learn in due time. “Shizun should be out any second now.”

He’s been ready for a few minutes but was lingering at the door to hear their back and forth, it seems Shizun will snoop as well given sufficient motivation.

Notes:

A general trend I've noticed in my writing, original fiction and fan fic, is that Characters are often paralyzed by thought. Likely because I'm in the habit of sitting in silence and thinking about everything on until I notice I'm dehydrated.

On an unrelated note my autism evaluation is coming up next Monday. I hope i get a good score.