“Is the coast clear, Cucumber-bro? Ow!”
“If it wasn’t, you’d make us look really stupid right now, wouldn’t you?”
“Fine, I get It- ouch! You don’t have to keep abusing me, bro!”
Shen Qingqiu would roll his eyes, but he’s too busy surreptitiously glancing over his fan. He’d chosen a simple, sea green fan today for two reasons. The first reason is that it matches the simple, elegant outer robe he has on.
“Okay! Let’s go,” he suddenly hisses, hustling from the hallway. Shang Qinghua scurries behind him, until they stand in front of the gates to the stairwell. Before it stands two of the most powerful demon guards, specifically requested today by Shen Qingqiu.
“Remember, at the risk of your emperor consort’s wrath,” Shen Qingqiu icily emphasizes. “No one else is to pass through these doors.”
The guards only swallow before bowing low and moving to the side. Shang Qinghua snickers, then gracelessly races up the stairs. Shen Qingqiu tries to control himself; he’s no child! He can temper his excitement! Shang Qinghua swiftly vanishes into the bright light at the top of the stairs, and Shen Qingqiu finds his heart pounding with excitement as he gets closer.
Okay: maybe he is running.
A couple more steps, and soon, they are standing in the warm, beaming sunlight of the most private and treasured of Luo Binghe’s gardens. This is the only garden in the palace that gets full sunlight during the afternoon, with a constant fresh breeze. It was designed specifically as a gift for Shen Qingqiu from his husband, when he remarked one day that the demon realm felt unusually gloomy and stuffy.
(It was just one time! An offhand comment, during a literal thunderstorm! But his crybaby husband treated it like it was the end of the world!)
Nonetheless, Luo Binghe had truly gone above and beyond. It’s exactly the way Shen Qingqiu would have imagined in a fantasy novel. The manicured grass glistens green, with a cacophony of colorful wildflowers from both realms encircling the space. It delights Shen Qingqiu to no end that he could name every flower, its origins, and uses; he’s sure Luo Binghe had that in mind when he chose them. Behind the flowers is a wall of lush bamboo, adding to the protected coziness of the space.
There’s a small, trickling stream through the middle, jewel bright as the sun reflects off the crystal-clear water and the pretty white stones scattered throughout. There are boulders of the same stone carved precisely into pillowed benches for Shen Qingqiu to sit and read. Really, it’s up there on his ‘favorite dungeons in the palace’ list, preceded only by his bedroom and the library. It’s the best place for today’s experiment in particular.
“Ready?” Shang Qinghua teases, antsy as he bounces back and forth on his feet. “Now!”
With a flourish, Shang Qinghua rips off the outer robe, revealing his brand-new outfit. Shen Qingqiu allows himself to grin, closing his fan and more gently removing his outer robe. This is the second reason he chose the particular fan: it matches his ‘modern day’ outfit underneath. Shen Qingqiu wears a pair of dark blue shorts and a sea green t-shirt, as well as sandals. Shang Qinghua wears a jet-black t-shirt, and cloth shorts dyed an astonishing icy blue.
This would have never happened on his own; for that, he can give Airplane’s infamous creativity credit. During a long-winded banquet held in Luo Binghe’s honor, Shang Qinghua had been complaining about the searing summer heat and mentioned that he missed wearing jean shorts. Shen Qingqiu first made sure to mock him thoroughly. Jorts? Was everything about the man low tier? Next, he had to agree that shorts would have been eons better than the loads of heavy ceremonial robes they had on. It was then that Shang Qinghua slipped the idea into his ear.
“While we’ll never get them exactly accurate to the real world,” he explained, “There’s plenty of ways that shirts and pants could be made. The regular people wear them all the time. We could just design them and have them dyed.”
Shen Qingqiu wanted nothing to do with the idea in the beginning, shutting it down for its risk. However, one extremely hot banquet and barely held poker face later, he had to admit that he would have given anything to rip off the sweat-soaked robes. Humiliated yet determined, the next morning he yanked Shang Qinghua to the side.
“Do what you can,” he hissed. “But don’t get caught. I’ll have nothing to do with you if you do.”
“You know me, Cucumber-bro!” Shang Qinghua winked. “Master of deception!”
Shen Qingqiu had beaten him with his fan for such foul honesty. But now, letting the cool breeze actually touch his skin for the first time in…recent memory, actually, he can admit that the idea was phenomenal. Shang Qinghua spins in circles, hands splayed out as he twirls. He squats, lunges, jumps; everything felt so much lighter.
“I can’t believe we used to live like this,” he muses, falling onto the grass and kicking his feet. “It feels so foreign, so naked now.” He pauses, turning to look at Shen Qingqiu close his eyes and flop back on the bench. “You know what this really needs? A pink drink from Starbucks, and a nice pool. The north gets so cold even during the summer, so I can’t ask my King to make one there.”
The word ‘Starbucks’ seems so out of place here, but now that Shen Qingqiu is thinking of real-world fast food, he finds that he can’t stop. Shang Qinghua continues to muse, unbothered.
“Maybe we could have Luo Binghe dig us out a pool here? Call it the royal baths or something?” A thought slams into Shang Qinghua, stopping him in his tracks. “Wait, never mind. He’d never let anyone else use it if it meant you would be in it. He’d probably kill us all for daring to look.”
He’ll never admit to it, but Luo Binghe’s possessiveness does something for Shen Qingqiu, and he feels a pleasurable tingle run down his spine at the thought of his husband’s fierce, intimidating gaze. But also-
“Ow!” Shang Qinghua yelps, rubbing his arm after the stinging impact. “Don’t fling energy at me! I’m speaking the truth and you know it!”
“I do miss some fast food sometimes,” Shen Qingqiu continues, ignoring him. “I’d kill for some chicken nuggets and fries. All the superfluous shit you wrote for this stupid story, and you didn’t think to add potatoes?”
Shang Qinghua rubs his chin. “I feel like I have! If not, there’s got to be an equivalent! I don’t really feel like thinking about it right now, though. Besides, you have my son’s cooking to maintain you!”
“That’s not the point.”
“I’m honestly shocked you don’t know. You made it a point to know everything else about my story, but you don’t know if I wrote a potato equivalent? Maybe named it the ‘Potato-like Root of Infinite Healing’ or something?”
It wouldn’t surprise Shen Qingqiu if he had named it something so ridiculous. “If I wanted to figure it out, I’d have to try everything to find out, and who knows how many lives I have left to risk? And you’re the shitty author! You should know!”
“You’re calling me shitty bro, but you were the one who read a millions-word-long stallion novel for plot. That was on you!” Shang Qinghua shrieks again, this time dodging the wave of energy Shen Qingqiu sends after him.
“Anyway,” Shen Qingqiu sighs, leaning back onto the bench. “I’d probably have Binghe make them if I found some. His cooking is so good, no one else can compare, but… sometimes I do miss fast food.”
“I can do that!”
Shen Qingqiu hurtles off the bench, Shang Qinghua scattering behind him in fear. Luo Binghe hustles into the light, absolutely delighted that he’s learned something new about his husband’s desires. He’s not sure what ‘potatoes’ are, but if it is a dish that has to be made swiftly, he can do that!
“Binghe, no-”
Luo Binghe stops dead in his tracks and dramatically shrieks. His husband is in his undergarments! Unrobed! And not alone, but alongside Shang Qinghua! In private!
“Shizun,” he whimpers tearfully, slowly pulling Zheng Yang from its sheath. “If there was something I’m not providing for you, you can tell me! You don’t have to seek out another’s company, you don’t have to debase yourself like this!”
Luo Binghe has to kill Shang Qinghua. He’ll have to find Mobei Jun a new human interest. Worst case scenario, the north will revolt, and he’ll have to settle it. That’s fine. Shang Qinghua screams and cowers behind Shen Qingqiu’s back, gripping his bare skin how dare he touch the bare skin of my husband I am going to slau-
Had Shen Qingqiu just thought his husband’s ‘fierce gaze’ was hot? Never mind! It’s just terrifying! You’re supposed to look at the bad guys that try to steal your wives like this, not this moron! Shen Qingqiu thinks, before internally smacking his head. Right. Really, after the Bingge incident, he has to stop forgetting that he’s the Ultimate Wife now. Of course this would be Binghe’s reaction.
“Shizun, I’m kindly asking you to step aside,” Luo Binghe whispers, darkness simmering in a corona around him.
“Binghe, calm down,” Shen Qingqiu pleads, reaching his fan out and slowly pushing the end of the blade down and to the side. “This is not what it looks like, not at all. Nothing truly wrong is happening here. You cannot kill him, for not only would it upset me-”
“Aw, Cuc-”
“Shut up!” Shen Qingqiu turns back to Luo Binghe, reaching to cradle his cheek. “But you also cannot risk our alliance with the North by reacting in such haste. Do you really not trust your husband?”
Luo Binghe inhales sharply, at once sheathing the sword and grasping Shen Qingqiu’s hands.
“Of course I trust my husband! Forgive me for not understanding! This disciple-”
“Binghe.”
“- this husband spoke without clarity. Please forgive me!” He bows over and over into Shen Qingqiu’s hands, covering them with tears. Shang Qinghua recognizes his time to flee, wrapping himself in his robe and running out. Damn it, you look like a concubine fleeing an affair! Once Shang Qinghua is safely out of sight, Shen Qingqiu sighs and pulls away. Guess that’s the end of his attempts to reclaim modernity.
“You are forgiven. Let’s go.”
He quickly re-robes, hustling past Luo Binghe while trying to hide his reddened face behind his fan. Unfortunately, his sticky husband is not one to be dissuaded, and he moves in front of Shen Qingqiu.
“Shiz- Husband, wait! Explain to this one what you’re wearing and what you’re doing?”
“It- I-” The system’s rules no longer loom over his existence, but it’s not completely gone, and even if it was, Shen Qingqiu doesn’t feel ready for this discussion yet. Especially not right now, when he needs to go ‘get dressed’. Instead, he just sighs angrily. “It’s fine, Binghe. I just wanted to… try something different, and Shang Qinghua offered to help me. Don’t worry about it. This husband will put on his proper attire, and you will help me.”
It’s not a good explanation, but it seems to be the only one his husband is willing to give, so Luo Binghe only pouts as they make their way back to the royal bedchambers. It isn’t until they are inside, Luo Binghe tightening the belt over the third ornate robe, that Shen Qingqiu finds the face to admonish him properly.
“I do not appreciate you listening in on my private conversations. The guards were placed there for a reason.”
Luo Binghe lightly grimaces. When the guards had told him that no one was to be allowed up, he showed them swiftly and mercilessly why the emperor of the demon realm was to be allowed in any room he damn so pleased, especially when his husband was there. At least they were alive! They were healing in the medical bay; he’d learned mercy! Still, he kneels low at Shen Qingqiu’s feet.
“This one apologizes, truly. I was on my way to find you, but then I heard you discussing something you would like. Your desires are always my top priority, and so I was selfish in choosing to listen rather than to just ask.”
For extra emphasis, he turns his husband’s favorite pouty, puppy eyes up at him, and Shen Qingqiu crumbles with just a soft thump to his head.
“Who taught you to speak like this?” he mutters, half to himself. Luo Binghe raises to his knees, lingering in front of the belt, and everything behind it.
“Perhaps there’s something else Husband would like to make up for it?” He presses a long thumb into Shen Qingqiu’s thigh, slowly moving up until he can feel Shen Qingqiu twitch under his touch. Shen Qingqiu audibly inhales, and grips Luo Binghe’s shoulder.
“You just dressed me,” he breathes, trying to control his tone. Luo Binghe grins wickedly, using one hand to push the small of Shen Qingqiu’s back forward and the other to reach under the robes.
“I can do it again,” he murmurs, nosing at the thigh. “What do you think, Husband? Can I do this for you?”
He asks me, as he does all of this! Shen Qingqiu bemoans to himself, trying to keep a cool head. Unfortunately, the moment Luo Binghe kitten licks the outside of his pants, right at the tip, Shen Qingqiu’s willpower collapses. Saving face, he doesn’t look down at Luo Binghe as he swiftly nods. It’s all Luo Binghe needs, rising to his feet while sweeping Shen Qingqiu off of his, and laying him flat on the bed. Greedy, he lifts all of Shen Qingqiu’s layers up in one motion, yanking off his pants in another. Without a single warning, he’s shoving Shen Qingqiu’s dick into his mouth, all the way down to the hilt, and Shen Qingqiu yelps as his legs wrap around Luo Binghe’s shoulders.
Every day he’s grateful Luo Binghe is a quick learner, past their horrific first tries. He wonders how many demon concubines the man had sat patiently, watched, and learned from before bringing such skills to their bed. The way he sucks tight, keeps his tongue flat as he slides up and down, occasionally flickering around the tip and slit to send jolts through Shen Qingqiu’s body. It’s warm, wet, and tight, and Luo Binghe is shameless about slurping as well. Shen Qingqiu places his forearm over his mouth to mute his high-pitched whines, but Luo Binghe pauses and grabs both of his wrists with one hand.
“No, Husband. You have to let me know how well I’m doing.”
He slowly raises Shen Qingqiu’s body up, effectively making him watch as Luo Binghe bobs up and down on his member. It’s a steamy sight, especially when Luo Binghe makes eye contact with him, and Shen Qingqiu knows he’s not going to last long.
“Binghe, Binghe let me go, move back. I’m- I’m going to-”
Luo Binghe only speeds up his stroke, and Shen Qingqiu comes with an embarrassingly loud cry. Ever the brat, Luo Binghe swallows each drop and then finally releases Shen Qingqiu. Shen Qingqiu collapses back on the bed, breathing heavily.
“I liked that,” Luo Binghe whispers. “What a lovely sound, Husband.” He slides his hands back up Shen Qingqiu’s thighs. “I think I want to hear it again.”
Shen Qingqiu’s eyes pop wide open, and his hands fly to Luo Binghe’s shoulders, but it is too late. Luo Binghe is back on him, sucking the half-limp, overly sensitive dick, and making Shen Qingqiu wail. Somewhere between the first lick and Luo Binghe’s expert grip and stroke, he stops caring that he’s been pleading and crying out like a dramatic porn star for all passing in the hall to hear. This time, Luo Binghe takes time to stroke himself, so the last time they come it is together, moaning heavily, leaving a mess all over their robes.
Shen Qingqiu peels off his layers with an uncharacteristically messy huff, kicking off his shoes like a petulant toddler before flopping onto the luxurious couch. The wines at tonight’s banquet had been extremely strong, and Luo Binghe had fruitlessly tried to convince his husband that he didn’t have to test every option. However, his husband’s eyes had glowed with a fervent excitement- the same excitement showed when he wanted to deliver a long-winded academic lecture on a specific topic to Binghe or his disciples- and he couldn’t be stopped.
Binghe, he’d slurred, these diplomatic envoys have brought you the rare One Hundred Year’s Crystal Wine, a smooth juice-like wine specifically crafted to age to perfection once every one hundred years with the addition of a specifically mined crystal from the east! They have brought you not one, but seven of them! We must be good hosts and test them before they’re gone!
Luo Binghe already knew about the One Hundred Year’s Crystal Wine, including the fact that it is almost fifty percent alcohol. It didn’t take much to lose one’s inhibitions on one cup, let alone the seven dainty teacups Shen Qingqiu had sipped, so confident that he could handle it. A warm pride still fills his heart that even seven cups into the prolific wine, his husband had not lost his composure. The only evidence of his discomfort was his blood red cheeks, hidden behind a constantly moving fan. As far as anyone was concerned, he’d still been the magnificent Qing Jing peak lord and demon lord’s icy emperor consort.
“It’s so hot,” Shen Qingqiu whines, shedding that façade alongside his flowing sleeves. “Binghe, you must do something about this heat!”
It’s partly from the humid summer heat lingering within the palace, but it also is from the alcohol rushing through his veins. Still, Luo Binghe obediently removes his robes, concerned upon noticing how moist the inner ones have become.
“I can’t believe that jerk,” mumbles Shen Qingqiu. “So shameless!”
“What ‘jerk’, Shiz- Husband?”
Shen Qingqiu affectionately pinches Luo Binghe’s cheek, using a little too much force, but Luo Binghe only beams. He’s really enjoying this unusually vocal, vulnerable Shen Qingqiu.
“Shang Qinghua! The door was barely closed, yet he was already in there moaning and sobbing! No shame!” Shen Qingqiu pouts. “I bet it’s nice and cool in there too, the lucky bastard…”
Luo Binghe scowls. He’s uninterested in anyone else’s lust, let alone his husband feeling envious of it. There was no need to feel such a way when he was there, learning to be the best lover he could be! But he doesn’t want to put down his husband’s words, so he forcibly crushes the scalding envy back down his throat.
“Demons are prolific in their lust,” he nonchalantly explains as he finally frees Shen Qingqiu of all his clothes. “He has simply accepted Mobei Jun’s affection. It is not shameful, here, and it shouldn’t be.”
So have you, he wants to add. Every servant in this palace knows to distance themselves for a few hours when their emperor passionately takes his husband, and to show proper respect upon their completion. Shen Qingqiu’s cries are not as muffled as he wants to think, his desire for his husband’s touch more obvious than he’ll ever admit. Luo Binghe will easily admit that he strives for that every time they lay together.
“Would you like to show them who does it better?” he half teases, half tempts. He’s been burning at half-mast witnessing the pretty blush upon Shen Qingqiu’s cheeks and exposed shoulders, but Shen Qingqiu only waves him away.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” he mutters instead, and Luo Binghe’s stomach clenches. Eyes wide, he rushes to the hallway, hurling the door open.
“Bring me cold water, cold towels, and fill the bath with cool water!” he commands the servants before racing back to his husband’s side. “Now!”
By the time Shen Qingqiu is cooling down in the bath, heat sickness averted, Luo Binghe’s simmering heat has completely died down in lieu of tempestuous worry. Something is wrong, and it’s time to admit it to himself. Shen Qingqiu has been unusually melancholy tonight; had been melancholy ever since Luo Binghe had walked in on his strange experiment with Shang Qinghua. Replacing the cool towel over Shen Qingqiu’s eyes, Luo Binghe sighs.
“What’s wrong, husband? Something has displeased you, to make you like this.”
His fingers linger at Shen Qingqiu’s cheek, finally cooling down from his dangerous heat from earlier. He’s expecting for Shen Qingqiu to mention his illness from the wines, or maybe that he was still angry about his interruption despite their lewd make up.
Liquor still lingers heavily on Shen Qingqiu’s breath when he throws Luo Binghe for a loop.
“I miss my home, sometimes,” he whispers, almost inaudible.
“Qing Jing? We can visit any time Husband wants.”
“No… nooo. I miss home. My real home.”
Luo Binghe frowns, confused. “I don’t understand your words.”
“There aren’t even potatoes in this world!”
“In… this… world?”
Shen Qingqiu smiles with a sigh, raising his hand to his towel covered eyes. Luo Binghe knows that if he could see those beautiful green eyes, they’d be full of sadness. “Oh I know, I know, red flashing- What am I doing? I’m sorry, Binghe. This husband shouldn’t behave so uncontrollably. I drank too much, I’m… speaking gibberish. I will be okay after some tea and rest.”
It’s not okay. In fact, it breaks Luo Binghe’s heart. Shen Qingqiu rarely discusses his true feelings. Just like now, whenever they come close, he’ll compartmentalize, facing things with a seeming sturdy calm or a flippant nonchalance.
Luo Binghe hates most of all that Shen Qingqiu doesn’t consider his place by Luo Binghe’s side home.
Shen Qingqiu could go anywhere in the world. The highest mountain, the lowest abyss, the hottest desert, and the coldest tundra. As long as Shen Qingqiu was by his side, Luo Binghe would make anywhere their home. To hear that even after every comfort Luo Binghe has tried to provide, Shen Qingqiu doesn’t consider anywhere near him a home at all… It leaves an ugly, churning feeling in his stomach, a familiar fear of abandonment that he thought he’d been overcoming. He thought that they’d been growing past this, that Shen Qingqiu knew that he was safe enough to come to Luo Binghe with anything.
“Husband,” he murmurs. When he receives no answer, he tries again. “Husband? Shizun?”
Shen Qingqiu’s head lays against the small, pillowed towel, quietly snoring. With a small laugh, Luo Binghe grabs a towel and lifts him from the water. Once he’s appropriately dried, he lifts Shen Qingqiu into his arms and carries him into the bedroom. The fire has been dimmed to a simmering glow, the air in the room sufficiently cooled after panicked servants fanned out the space. Luo Binghe gently lays Shen Qingqiu down, tucking him into the cool sheets. He brings the cold water and cup to the table next to his side, and then sits. His eyes and his demon mark glow a faint red as he caresses Shen Qingqiu’s cheek once more.
“I will make you happy,” he fervently whispers. “I will move heaven and earth to find what makes you happy.”
We can bring it here; we can bring everything here.
Then you’ll never want for anywhere else again.
You’ll realize that this is your home, with me.
Luo Binghe has been researching in his library since before dawn, his nose buried in dusty scrolls and books searching for a sign of the strange ‘potato’. He’s not even sure what appropriate characters are used in the word, so he attempts multiple sounded-out versions- none have led him to success. Scowling at his latest failure, he tears apart the latest book and hurtles it into the wall, watching unsatisfied as the papers fly everywhere.
“Clean it up!” he roars at the nearby guards, and as they fearfully hustle in to sweep, Luo Binghe shoves his head into his hands.
This shouldn’t be bothering him nearly as much as it is, but he’s down the rabbit hole of his thoughts, now obsessed with obtaining this one mystery food item since last night. There are plenty records of meals fried in oil! Unfortunately, nothing but the most authentic would do. He just wants to surprise Shen Qingqiu, who’s still in bed peacefully sleeping off his hangover.
If he couldn’t give Shen Qingqiu this, what would happen if someone appeared who could?
Luo Binghe prides himself on knowing Shen Qingqiu better than anyone else. He knows the exact way Shen Qingqiu likes each of his meals placed on the table for ease. He’s been there as Shen Qingqiu’s taste in fashion has transitioned from cold and elegantly ornate to beautiful and subtle, while still made of the softest, most expensive fabrics. He recognizes the particular way Shen Qingqiu organizes his fans from most to least favorite. He knows that Shen Qingqiu purposely reads trashy stories for the joy of complaining, yet saves a prized place on his bookshelves for them.
He pays so much attention to every detail, and yet there were still things that Shen Qingqiu won’t talk to him about! What’s wrong with him?! What else could he do to prove himself?! A livid red and black cloud of energy forms around Luo Binghe as he seethes, his fists clenched tight on the table as his demon mark glows as fast as his heartbeat.
Don’t let it overpower your mind.
A shudder of fear and heartbreak runs through Luo Binghe at the shattering memory of Shen Qingqiu’s sacrifice, and he grabs his mouth to prevent his gorge from rising. Of the many ways he’s attempted self-control, he’s found that this is the swiftest way to rein himself in. As always, it works- the demon energy swiftly subsides, and he hisses out a pained sigh. While his rage is gone, stomach churning sadness lingers. What is he going to do? From his experience, these small things always blow up into something worse. What begins as dissatisfaction over a meal might lead to Luo Binghe misunderstanding more and more, and then Shen Qingqiu will go back to not trusting him. The image of someone else caring for his husband, of caring for him, of even touching his robes makes him sick. It might mean nothing with Shang Qinghua now, but-
Shang Qinghua!
Luo Binghe stands so suddenly that the chair behind him goes flying to the floor. Determined, he storms out of the library, leaving a terrified and deferential wake behind him on the way to Mobei Jun’s guest rooms. The looming doors are tinged at the edges with frost, and he raises a hand before remembering his courtesies and knocking.
“Mobei,” he commands, voice loud and unmoving. “I need to speak with Shang Qinghua.”
He waits about three seconds before placing both hands on the doors and pushing them open. Across from him, Shang Qinghua squeaks as he pulls the sheets up to his neck. Mobei Jun, visibly naked with red marks over his skin, shamelessly moves to rise from the bed, but Luo Binghe holds up a hand.
“I expect to see both of you in my private office within one incense time. Do not make me wait.”
Thirty minutes later, Mobei Jun strolls confidently into Luo Binghe’s office, Shang Qinghua scurrying in behind him. They both bow deeply, and Luo Binghe impatiently waves them out of their stances.
“Shishu, I need your advice once more.”
Shang Qinghua’s head tilts up at the unusually respectful approach. “Yes, My Lord?”
He’d thought he was here to be punished for being caught in ‘undergarments’ with the emperor’s consort! He’d certainly spent what he thought was his last night with his King thinking that way! What was going on?
“I am going to forgive you for what happened yesterday, as my Husband explained to me the circumstances, and it would displease him if you were punished.”
Oh, thank the heavens, cheers Shang Qinghua. Cucumber-bro, you actually came through for me! I knew you loved me!
“What is a potato?”
Never mind, just kill me, Shang Qinghua laments, cringing. How is he supposed to explain this? Next Bing-ge will be asking him about video games and microwaves! Why didn’t Cucumber-bro handle this too?
“I am waiting,” Luo Binghe hisses, and Shang Qinghua pales. “He was willing to speak to you about it, and you understood him. Tell me what it is.”
Is this how you speak to your Shishu?! Sobs Shang Qinghua. Of course it is, I wrote you to be the all-imposing, unstoppable demon emperor, you can speak to anyone that way! How does Cucumber-bro deal?
“Ah, oh, um, I need to think!” he simpers, stalling. “Let me… pray on it for a moment!”
All Luo Binghe can see is Shang Qinghua turn around and curl in on himself, muttering things like fucking system, I know you’re there, help a bro out before he perishes- He’s about to have Mobei Jun knock some sense into his favored human when Shang Qinghua spins back around.
“Yes!” He pulls a piece of parchment and a lose stick of black wax from his side bag and scribbles out the characters, as well as the location, handing it to Luo Binghe with a bow. “The ‘Deeply Rooted Root Plant of Temporary Revitalization’!”
Luo Binghe’s eyes narrow. “The… Deeply Rooted…”
“-Root Plant of Temporary Revitalization, yes.” Shang Qinghua internally smacks himself in the forehead. He’d just been fucking around when he joked with Cucumber that he ‘maybe named it the ‘Potato-like Root of Infinite Healing’ or something’. It must have been an especially long night when he came up with this. Cucumber must have left a long hate comment about it, if he thinks back through the thousands of them hard enough. Either way, it’s too late now, and he’s about to drop to his knees and beg for mercy when Luo Binghe rises from his desk.
“Very well. I’m going to leave a note for my husband, and then I’ll be out for the day.” He turns a calculating glance to Mobei Jun. “You know what to do.”
Mobei Jun bows in understanding, and Shang Qinghua raises his brow in amusement as the door closes behind Luo Binghe. The imperial demon emperor, the gold-fingered protagonist, the mighty cultivator Luo Binghe… out on a glorified fast-food run because of his husband’s cravings.
Cucumber-bro, you really have him whipped.
Shen Qingqiu stumbles into the throne room.
No, he strides- the cool, collected Peak Lord of Qing Jing does not stumble!
Shen Qingqiu strides into the throne room, his eyes searing from the light of day. His temples throb, and his throat is only barely soothed by the bitter coating honey tea he received with his breakfast. In fact, his entire breakfast was average, and that's how he knew Luo Binghe must not be in the palace far before he read his mysterious note.
Even with the pain he's in, he is aware that he's not nearly as hungover as he should be. The last thing he remembers was saluting to Luo Binghe as he sipped a cup from the last jar of the refreshing wine; then there's a complete blackout. He woke in a cool room, under cool sheets, only mildly nauseous, and most notably, alone. For his devoted husband to not be anywhere nearby? It sparks indignity within Shen Qingqiu. It's not that he thinks he should have all of Luo Binghe's attention at all times, but… that's not how the morning usually goes! Binghe always makes time for him! And no, he's not jealous!
Shang Qinghua looks him up and down, grimacing. "You look terrible."
"Fuck you,” he hisses under his breath. “Shen Qingqiu never looks terrible."
"No, but you're giving his features a run for their money. Even your usual pristine sheen is dull. On the bright side, this sour expression might be closer to the original goods!"
"Well normally I have a husband here to oversee this," Shen Qingqiu growls. "Where is he?"
“Don’t you kn-” Shang Qinghua pauses. The note Luo Binghe wrote must not have mentioned the ‘why’; how adorable! He grins mischievously. "It's a secret."
Without hesitation, Shen Qingqiu turns directly to Mobei Jun, his expression tight. “Where is Luo Binghe?”
"The emperor has gone out for the day in search of a special plant," Mobei Jun explains, "and has left me here to assist you with your duties."
Shang Qinghua beams at Mobei Jun for keeping hush, while Shen Qingqiu internally groans. What an unfilial disciple! To leave him here, tired and poorly fed, and with tasks too? He takes a deep breath, centering himself.
Shen Qingqiu chastises himself for being whiny. Truly, being by Luo Binghe's side has made him spoiled and soft. There was no reason for him to complain: the room was cool, there’d been a jug of water, breakfast was prepared, and even his robes were laid out, made of a lightweight, ethereally beautiful fabric. It's clear that all of Shen Qingqiu's needs had been considered beforehand, if not properly implemented by the demon servants.
"But what plant could be so important that he had to leave without waking me…" he mutters. He closes his eyes and wracks his brain, trying to think of possible motivations. A special plant, Mobei Jun had explained. What plant could Luo Binghe need at this time? No wife plots had popped up recently, and of those food or plant related, they always had to do with papapa, and some with potential heirs. Surely Shen Qingqiu wasn’t- it couldn’t be a pregnancy related thing, could it?! He swivels to Shang Qinghua, eyes glowing with fear and suspicion. Quailing from the manic look in his eyes, Shang Qinghua raises his hands, backing away slowly.
“Hey there, Cu- Shen Qingqiu, calm down,” he whines, eyes darting nervously at a stiffened Mobei Jun. “This is not the time to panic, I said it’s a surprise, but it’s a good surprise, just trust my son he’s got it all worked out to plan you a meal-”
Shen Qingqiu freezes in his pending attack. “A meal? It’s not- I might not be-” He flushes furiously, horrified at the conclusions he’d jumped to.
“Not what?”
“Nothing. I never said anything. What’s the plant?”
“Are you not listening to-”
“I just need to make sure it’s nothing… that he doesn’t have anything strange planned.”
Shang Qinghua pinches his bridge, sighing. “You’re no fun. It’s the ‘Deeply Rooted Root Plant of Temporary Revitalization’.”
Shen Qingqiu blinks. That sounds about as stupid a name as Airplane could have come up with, so he believes him. Then it clicks- Luo Binghe must have still been dwelling on the conversation he’d overheard. Perhaps he’d drunkenly admitted something the night before; it would be the only reason Luo Binghe would be so expedient in finding it. Touched, and mildly embarrassed, Shen Qingqiu exhales. Despite his exhaustion, it would be best to find Binghe and clarify the scenario, rather than let it fester within him.
“I need to find him. What direction is he headed?”
Shang Qinghua nonchalantly tells him to head southwest towards a certain town, and Shen Qingqiu whips out Xiu Ya. Then he freezes.
Wait.
Deeply Rooted Root Plant of Temporary Revitalization.
Southwest.
Shit- this was a pregnancy-related wife plot!
“Wife number 267,” he mutters, frenzied. “He can’t go that direction, not for that plant, not by himself! Mobei Jun,” he orders. “Grab some of the fastest men and follow me. We’re going after him! Now!”
Once Mobei Jun storms away, commands flying around the halls, he leaps onto Xiu Ya and floats a few feet into the air.
"That'll never stop being awesome.” Once he’s balanced, he looks at Shang Qinghua impatiently. "Get on, you fool! You're going too!"
“Just because I’m slower than you doesn’t mean I can’t fly on my own,” Shang Qinghua clucks before leaping, only to choke when Shen Qingqiu aggressively collars him for a few seconds before tossing him back on the ground.
“Don’t you remember what happened, you hack? How could you send him there?”
Shang Qinghua bitterly rubs his neck, stepping onto his own sword and rising. “That was a cruel trick, Cucumber. I beg, one day you should write a story with millions of words and tell me you remember every detail of it after decades!”
Shen Qingqiu scowls, but it’s deep worry that furrows his brow as they fly around to the shadowed training courtyard, hovering over the small group of demons lined up behind Mobei Jun.
“Don’t lose sight of me,” he shouts down, before swerving around and speeding through the sky. He hates that he’s going to have to ride slower than he has to, but he would rather have backup for this than not.
“Cucumber-bro! Can you please tell me what’s up?”
“It’s the wife that claimed she was… with child, and she was craving! Shit!”
Shang Qinghua’s eyes widen. “Wait, really? Cucumber-bro, are you really-”
“No! Shut up!” Shen Qingqiu refuses to even consider the idea any further.
“…So what’s the threat?”
It’s actually one of Shang Qinghua’s cooler monsters in this monster-battling world, and if he weren’t too busy panicking over Luo Binghe, Shen Qingqiu would be insulted that he doesn’t remember it.
"In order to get to that town, he'll have to fly over the-"
Luo Binghe whips through the skies, satisfied to flex his power in so long. It’s been very peaceful lately, and while he loves to relax by spending time next to and underneath his husband, every now and then his body calls for a little bit more aggression. He’d been delayed in his journey already, helping a small group of human nomads fight off some false cultivators that had been taking advantage of them. It was easy pickings, and those frauds will never hurt anyone else again. Husband will be so proud of me, he hums, unable to resist doing a small dance in his shoulders. A meal and a new story of my bravery!
It turns out this redundant plant lays deep within the jungles in the southwest, and his maps show that he’ll have to fly over a gigantic lake to reach it. There’s been nothing but blurred verdant jungle for miles, and so when he finally flies over it, he’s relieved at first- and then he’s cautious. The nomads, thankful for his help, had given him some pre-emptive information about this enormous body of water, with its placid, indigo surface and strange purple mist leering at its sand covered edges.
Beware of the Nocturnal Violet Sea Squid, the gigantic monster that lives in the depths of the Churning Violet Sea. They claimed the monster fed off of power, cultivator and demonic alike. They claimed that if he absolutely must fly over the sea, he should do it during the brightest day when the sea was at its most active, and the creature was at rest. At the moment, the sun shone brightly, and the fastest way to the plant was straight over the calm waters.
Wait-
Luo Binghe gapes in horror as the largest tentacle he has ever seen shoots up from the waters, sharpened suction cups aimed at his body. He only barely flips out of the way as it whips past him, slithering back into the water. The Churning Violet Sea, he berates himself, frustrated. He should have known there was something suspicious about how calm the water was, even though the damn beast was supposed to be nocturnal! Sometimes he wondered what was wrong with him, that nothing in his life could ever be simple!
He parries the next pair of tentacles, hopping off his sword midair to cut a bloody slide through one as he falls, and tear the other in half with a well-placed talisman. Luo Binghe is splattered in inky blood as the monster roars in agony. Now he’s furious, his eyes and demon mark glowing as he roars back.
“I just-” he shouts, sending an explosion- “-want to make-” he whips between three, four strikes- “-my husband-” he falls from the sky again, cutting a diagonal- “-happy!”
He flies back and forth, trying to exhaust the creature that follows him at such a high speed that the surface of the sea crests white with its movement. The Nocturnal Violet Sea Squid must be greedy, as it continues to fight despite Luo Binghe’s constant attacks leaving its tentacles a gory mess. Luo Binghe watches its one gigantic, amber-yellow eye menacingly peer at him from under the surface, following his every move.
Follow this, then, he challenges, turning his sword nearly ninety degrees as he flies into the clear sky, the monster shooting out itself out of the water with its terrifying beak wide open. In a gorgeous move (he wishes Shen Qingqiu were there; his husband openly adores his sword work) he backflips off the sword and lithely grips the handle, pushing himself down through the wind. The Nocturnal Violet Sea Squid cannot stop its own momentum, watching death approach as Luo Binghe slams Zheng Yang into its eye with a dramatic flash, pushing it down into the water with a thunderous sound.
He jumps into the sky before the sea water can crash in on him, watching the monster sink under the surface, churning once more. Content, Luo Binghe arrogantly dusts his shoulders. He intends to continue on his journey- maybe clean his robes in a less dangerous source of water- when his heart pounds so painfully that he nearly collapses from it.
“Fuck,” he hisses, checking himself. Now that his adrenaline isn’t pumping, he can feel he’s injured. There’s an acute, burning pain spreading throughout his body from somewhere- where is it? Finally, he checks his lower left leg and hisses. A flesh wound, livid and red with blood, slashes across his calf. The skin on its edges is dark, like paper that has been burned- poison, then. He closes his eyes, focusing his spiritual energy on the spot to drive it out. His heart only pounds viscerally in response. Next, he tries his demonic blood, a usual cure-all. When even that doesn’t work, Luo Binghe curses again and aims for the beach. His sword hobbles, lower and lower towards the waves.
I have to make it. I can’t pass out here. He’s waiting for me, he’s finally waiting for me, he can’t think that I’ve just-
Luo Binghe falls unconscious, his body once again hurtling towards the sea.
Binghe.
Binghe.
Wake up, Binghe!
Luo Binghe starts, jerking forward.
“Shi- Husband!” he calls, excited. “Husband! I’m here!” He rises from the sand, rushing down the beach. “I’m here!”
Come here, Binghe.
Luo Binghe races towards the voice, his heart flying a mile a minute when he sees Shen Qingqiu’s gloriously draped figure standing at the edge of the water. He races to his side, lifting him up by the hips and spinning him around.
“Husband! What are you doing here? Did you follow me? Did you see me fight the beast?” Luo Binghe beams when Shen Qingqiu closes his fan, affectionately petting him on the head.
“I did. I’m proud. I missed you, Binghe.”
“Really?” Luo Binghe breathes. “I-” He suddenly remembers himself, remembers he’s covered in gore, and he steps back. “This one is sorry.”
“For what?”
“I’m covered in mess, and I touched your beautiful robes.”
“What mess?”
Luo Binghe jumps, confused. The blood, he’s covered in- Shen Qingqiu stares at him in concern.
“I was filthy, earlier. But now-” His dark robes are as clean as when he put them on that morning. “That doesn’t make sense.”
Something isn’t right. The lake is no longer violet, but a deep blue, and it is completely still. The bright, piercing white light in the sky fades, slowly turning into a frightening darkness.
“Husband-”
All of a sudden, a wave crests high over their heads. Instinctively, Luo Binghe goes to shield Shen Qingqiu, but it is no use- the moment the water recedes, Shen Qingqiu is no longer in his arms. Panicked, Luo Binghe searches in the darkness. He’s about to arm himself when he hears a scream so bloodcurdling that he wants to vomit.
“Husband! Shizun! Shizun, where are you?!”
There’s another scream, and then another, all coming from the middle of the lake. In his haste, he runs towards the water, only to find it as solid as ice.
“What is-”
The next scream cuts off with a macabre gurgling, and Luo Binghe pales with fear as he sprints towards the sound. The beach is soon far from sight, leaving him lost in the endless darkness, when he finally sees a familiar frame surrounded by bioluminescent lily pads.
“What’s going on? Was that you?” he cries, confused as he rushes up to him. “Shizun, I’m-”
Shen Qingqiu collapses into his arms, lifeless, and Luo Binghe cries out in horror. His throat is cut so garishly he’s nearly decapitated. Luo Binghe barely grabs the back of the pale head before he has to see such a barbaric sight. Fear quakes through him, his mind flashing back to the first time he’d held Shen Qingqiu’s lifeless body in his arms.
“This isn’t real,” he tells himself, shaking his head.
Binghe.
The Shen Qingqiu in his arms melts into a thick, dark liquid, seeping into the lake beneath him, and a sob tears from his chest.
Binghe, I’m right here.
“No,” Luo Binghe heaves. “No.”
Still, he’s never been able to avert his eyes from Shen Qingqiu, and he lifts them in hope that he’ll see his master and husband alive and whole. Instead, a strange, red creature walks towards him. Luo Binghe’s gorge rises when he realizes that it’s raw musculature, the skin in its arms the once gorgeous visage. The skinner, he’s barely able to recall. He grasps at his sides, trying to find Zheng Yang to slay this beast, but it’s no use. Had he left it on the beach? The horizon is bare, no beach, no escape in sight.
Binghe…
The teasing voice comes from a Shen Qingqiu, covered in infected sores from the Sowers.
Binghe…
The disappointment from another Shen Qingqiu, his face devoured by the spiders at the conference.
Luo Binghe doesn’t want to see anymore. “Stop it,” he sobs. “Stop it, don’t show me this, it didn’t happen, let me go!” He goes to cover his ears, when ‘Shen Qingqiu’ says something that crushes him whole.
This is your fault, Binghe.
You did this to me.
Luo Binghe falls to his knees like a puppet cut from string, all the blood gone from his face.
It is his fault, isn’t it? He wasn’t strong enough to face the skinner on his own, he needed help at the conference, he wasn’t paying enough attention to source the Sowers-
You always do this to me, Binghe!
The dead Shen Qingqius began to increase exponentially, ghoulishly rising from the dark lake with garish wounds. One half covered in acid burns from the Huan Hua water prison, skin dripping from his body. Another is covered in devastating scars from the Little Palace Mistress’ barbed whip, his back shredded beyond recognition. Vines protrude from the skin and eyes of another, the body seeping blood like sap from a tree.
It’s all your fault!
Some of them he’s not sure what he’d done to lead to such a demise. One has been stabbed through with so many sword injuries that his chest is nearly non-existent, the strings of skin hanging on over organs long emulsified. One is covered in arrow wounds from head to toe, more floating in the space than standing. A harsh laughter echoes, vibrating in his ears, closing in on him as they and many others all start to approach him.
He's trying to recapture his mind, unsure of where to turn or how to get these terrible visions from his mind, when a heavenly bright light shines down on him. He looks up, confused. A blurred shadow appears from the middle. The shape of Shen Qingqiu’s body barely comes into sight when Luo Binghe realizes what is happening. He rises from the ground, his hands cradled out as though in rapture- he can save this one, he knows he can save this one- when Shen Qingqiu’s body crashes through his rising arms like air, slamming into the solid lake with a bone chilling shatter.
Luo Binghe screams.
He screams so loudly, from so deep within his soul, that perhaps they could hear his torment in the next world, in the next life.
He manically grips at the ground, fingers bleeding, slamming his head into the water. No, no, no no no nononononononono-
Don’t you see what you’ve done, Binghe? Look up!
Ever faithful, ever stupid in his deep devotion, Luo Binghe sharply raises his tear filled, blood red eyes at the command to the last of the Shen Qingqius. This one’s limbs are sewed together at the joints, as though they had been cut off in pieces. He stares down his nose in disdain, and then a cruel smile as he flicks blood into a flinching Luo Binghe’s face.
Don’t you want to see all the reasons why your Shizun doesn’t want you? Will never choose you? All the torment you’ve brought upon him?
When Luo Binghe can only whimper piteously, the vision clicks its tongue.
Pathetic.
With a dismissive wave, Luo Binghe sinks into the dark, suffocating waters. Perhaps this is a mercy, he thinks bitterly, as the water holds tight to him, in a deadly sort of embrace. He failed Shen Qingqiu. Over and over he’s failed him; no wonder he doesn’t trust Luo Binghe to be his home.
Perhaps he can forget all the ways he’s failed when he’s dead. He closes his eyes, awaiting his fate.
“Binghe!”
Luo Binghe shudders in revulsion at his name, and at the voice. That’s not his benevolent Shizun, his wondrous husband. Hasn’t this demon broken him enough? Just end it. Don’t call me in his voice anymore.
“Binghe, I’ve got you-”
His brow twitches in irritation, but also in a strange hope. This voice is not malicious at all. It’s full of love, and… worry.
“It’s okay, you’ll be okay-”
Is that him?
“Fuck, System, can’t you do anything, he’s the protag-”
That’s the real Shizun.
“When did I become such a wife-”
My husband is worried about me.
Luo Binghe’s eyes fly open, the sound of rushing water heavy in his ears. My husband is worried about me! He kicks his legs and arms, muscles burning as he powers through the viscous water. He misses me!
“Binghe, please-”
“We just started our life together-”
“You can’t leave me here-”
His strokes become easier, and the darkness of the lake brightens as Luo Binghe rises, buoyed to the surface faster and faster as he chases after Shen Qingqiu’s fervent prayers once more.
Luo Binghe awakes to pressing anxiety, a dull pain in his leg throbbing with each beat. He forcibly slows his breathing, taking in the space around him. He's in his bedroom, the warm candlelight revealing the harried panic from when he was unconscious. There’s a bowl of water and used face rags on the nightstand; bloody towels, and jars of medicinal herbs on a messy side table; a pile of blood, water, and mud-soaked robes pile over in front of the low burning fire where a pot simmers. The thick heat of late has finally cooled down. He does not notice any talismans; perhaps it was finally raining outside.
What really centers Luo Binghe is that Shen Qingqiu sleeps draped over his knees, bent uncomfortably from a chair propped next to his bedside. Close to his head lays Luo Binghe's exposed injured calf, wrapped tight in bandages with minimal leaking. His vision blurs from happy tears when he realizes this means that Shen Qingqiu must have been the one to tend to him personally. If only he could have seen his Shizun care for him!
Luo Binghe has thumbed through the messy, long dark hair for a heavenly amount of time when Shen Qingqiu ungracefully snorts awake. It's the most disheveled he's ever seen his husband; robes in disarray, strands of hair stuck to his forehead, a handprint where his face rested, his eyes barely focused. It’s perhaps the truest face he’s ever revealed.
It’s lovely.
Shen Qingqiu finally blinks into awareness, and then swivels towards Luo Binghe's gentle gaze.
"I need to take better care of you and your robes, Husband," Luo Binghe purrs.
Shen Qingqiu's eyes widen with shock, then palpable relief. Then they narrow, his cheeks flushing with irritation, and- unable to find even his fan!- he grabs a loose rag and vehemently shakes it at Luo Binghe.
“You shameless- you make jokes about my robes?! You’ve been dying! I’ve been watching your temperature and brewing your medicines, bathing you, keeping you here, and- and-” Shen Qingqiu's voice wavers with a mortifying crack, so flustered and upset that he tears up. Summoning the infamous fan from what feels like thin air, he urgently flaps it open and intensely fans to hide his expression.
"Please don't." Luo Binghe's voice is low, honest, and it brings Shen Qingqiu pause. He's used to his clingy husband, used to him pouting and preening to get what he wants, but very rarely does Luo Binghe take such a serious tone with him. It's the tone of the exhausted, vulnerable protagonist that he would once scream deserved a break from the narrative. “Just… look at me, please.”
Swallowing his pride, Shen Qingqiu drops the fan in defeat. "You were drowning, Binghe,” he whimpers. “I barely made it in time, watching you fall from the sky, blood trailing after you."
It's only as he's saying it that he realizes how utterly cruel his plot at Jin Lan really was, and from the slow way Luo Binghe nods in understanding, he has discerned this as well.
"I dove under the water to find you, and I- I-" Shen Qingqiu chokes on the words, his shoulders rising to his ears. "Well, the point is, I didn't want you to die, and especially not over some silly craving! So don’t do that again!"
Binghe, I’ve got you-
It’s okay, you’ll be okay-
Binghe, please-
We just started our life together-
You can’t leave me here-
His voice had been saturated with panic, that much Luo Binghe will never forget. But there's something else he can't forget either. He struggles to sit up, gently grasping Shen Qingqiu's hands when he reaches forward to help.
"Husband- what is the 'system'?"
It was yet another unfamiliar word amongst many that Shen Qingqiu had let slip during their relationship, but for him to beg and pray to this 'system' to save his life? It must be important, far more than some plant or drink.
Shen Qingqiu jumps, swallowing visibly. It's evident he's about to make a run for it, and Luo Binghe tightens his grip.
"I just want to understand you more," he breathes, his emotions spilling forth. "You've been saying many strange things lately. About foods I don't know of. Of a home that is not by my side, not even of the place where I grew up. Now this. I just… I wanted to make you happy with something you wanted, make you feel more at home by my side, but it seems like I'm missing more and more with every step… I don’t want you to go, but as always, I don’t know what to do…"
Shen Qingqiu could never stomach it when Luo Binghe cried. The quiet, broken tone, the defeated hunch of his shoulders… He sighs, finally letting the long-held facade fall. He supposes there’s no choice- he’ll have to tread carefully.
"I'm sorry, Binghe. I never wanted you to feel this way. I must have said something hurtful while I was drunk? No, this was to do with the potatoes. Before, then. Shit, I'm so stupid!" He slaps his forehead, and Luo Binghe startles.
"Don't hurt yourself," he cries. "I'm not- you don't have to deb-"
"That's not-” Shen Qingqiu stops, lowering his voice and sharpness. “That’s not what's happening right now. Binghe, there are things about my past that I cannot expound on. Who I am, where I'm from… I'm not even sure if I'm allowed."
It’s technically true; Shen Jiu’s tragic past weighs heavy on him as an imposter in this life.
"Allowed?" Luo Binghe's brow furrows. "Is someone stopping you? Are you in danger? Or… is it like when we met my imposter?"
Shen Qingqiu is both startled and appreciative of the astute observation. "It's… similar. All I can say is that I am not the same man that I was when we met." It's not a lie, he hisses in irritation at the awakened system, its interface glowing a menacing red once more. I've matured since then! It's a saying! So there!
"But sometimes you do this," Luo Binghe presses, gently turning Shen Qingqiu's face back towards him. "You'll turn away, like you're hearing voices. I’ve heard voices before under Xin Mo’s influence, and it’s not pleasant. If you need help-"
Shen Qingqiu snorts, half amused, half tormented. "I just… yell at myself about things very loudly inside my head. You know that I can be very critical, and this… extends to myself. I'm not the perfect teacher you think I am, nor a perfect husband. I mess up, I don't think things through properly, and… if I must be honest… I too am… afraid in our relationship, sometimes."
Luo Binghe's breathing stutters at the quiet admission. "Afraid of what?"
"Binghe, please-"
"Afraid of what?”
"Of you not being impressed by me anymore!"
Shen Qingqiu’s eyes clench with embarrassment. He is not enjoying vulnerability, not nearly as much as a playfully grinning Luo Binghe is enjoying witnessing it.
“Seriously?”
Luo Binghe dodges a poorly aimed smack to the head, sparkling with joy.
“It’s not funny!” Shen Qingqiu cries, mortified. “You’ve always been so cool and so good at some things and so quick to get better at others, and after everything we’ve been through, I’m- I just don’t want you to stop holding me in your esteem, okay? What happens if one of those hundreds of wives does show up and you actually like them? Or if you decide that I’m not enough? I used to be afraid that you would turn me into a human stick, but now I think it hurts just as much if you were to oh my god I have become such a simpering fool in the narrative I can’t believe this-”
Shen Qingqiu’s disintegrating composure is too much for Luo Binghe, and he ungracefully yanks Shen Qingqiu towards him in a crushing hug.
“I’m so happy! I thought that you still didn’t trust me! You’ve been secretly drinking vinegar the whole time? You just wanted me to love you more? I can do that! I will always do that!”
“Drinking vin- now wait just a moment-”
“A thousand apologies for ever making you feel like my interest would ever be swayed! It can never! I have so much love for you, you’re my favorite person-”
“Okay, Binghe-”
“I am so-” Binghe stops, shivering he’s so overcome with excitement. He pauses, releasing Shen Qingqiu while he gathers himself. Fiery with determination, he gently clasps his husband’s face in his hands. “I am so happy,” he repeats. “I would never turn you into a human stick. Never. And I don’t know what wives you’re talking about, Husband. You are my only husband. My only love. I would swear on my life- no, I would end my life before I ever betrayed you that way.” He raises his fingers in a swear, batting his lashes.
“Well, you don’t have to do all that…” Shen Qingqiu mutters, but it’s clear that he’s secretly pleased from the half smile on his face.
“But… are you sure you don’t want to return to your home, Husband? You still long for it, wherever it is. Are you sure that I’m enough for you?”
Ability to return aside- “Trust me, Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu huffs with a laugh, “you are more than enough. The point is, I…” He inhales, forcing the mature words out. “I do love you. Even if I do miss things from before, and I do… I’m growing to accept who I am now. And there are many things here that I could never have that I am growing to care for, that I cannot live without. Like… being… with you.”
His expression may be that of swallowing shattered ceramic, but Shen Qingqiu is revealing his true feelings, and he’s doing it for Luo Binghe! His cool, calculated Shizun; his elegant, ethereal Husband; all of that peeled away to reveal the emotional, soft, sweet man on the inside. Luo Binghe has never felt so honored. Exasperated, Shen Qingqiu tosses up his hands, waving his robes around dramatically as he storms to the fireplace.
“Okay, enough of that! We’ve handled our feelings! Now drink this last serving of medicine!” He ladles the last of the thick, red liquid into a large mug and shoves it into Luo Binghe’s hands. “You’re awake now, so I don’t have to pour it down your throat.”
Luo Binghe sniffs the medication, grimacing, and chugs down the bitter concoction. A shudder of power runs through him as the last of the poison burns away. Forming a small bead of fire on his fingertip, he places it at the bottom of the bandage on his calf, running it up until the bandages split apart and reveal his completely healed leg.
“So cool,” Shen Qingqiu breathes in awe, peering where the injury used to be. “Do you feel better?”
He looks up, concerned when he doesn’t receive an answer. Luo Binghe has shifted, placing his arm on his knee. The somehow nonchalant pose (damn protagonist!) is so sexually appealing that Shen Qingqiu’s bottom half unintentionally clenches. Luo Binghe’s heated gaze doesn’t help, the way the demonic red simmers just beneath the surface of his dark brown eyes.
“Much better, Husband,” purrs Luo Binghe. “In fact, I have plenty of energy to show you just how much.”
Shen Qingqiu raises a defensive finger to counteract, then drops it with a defeated sigh. “Damn medicinal herbs.”
Luo Binghe laughs seductively low, moving his arm and spreading his legs further apart. “Oh no, Husband, it’s not the medicine. I’ve been this way since you told me you didn’t want me to leave you. I can’t believe you didn’t notice.”
“That’s not quite what I said.” Shen Qingqiu was so caught up in his embarrassing emotions; he too cannot believe he didn’t notice the heavenly pillar itself straining against Luo Binghe’s pants. Luo Binghe moves to the edge of the bed, encasing Shen Qingqiu in his arms. With the same finger that he burned away the bandages, he draws a long, seductive line from Shen Qingqiu’s neck, down to his collarbone, and through to his shoulder, flicking away one of the outer robes.
“Are you using that fire power again?” Shen Qingqiu murmurs, goosebumps rising with the touch. Luo Binghe smirks.
“No. Husband burns for my touch, is all.”
Honestly, who taught you to speak like this?! Shen Qingqiu bemoans, before tossing caution to the wind. He palms Luo Binghe down onto his back, hungrily leaping on top of him for a kiss. Luo Binghe sucks greedily at his husband’s tongue, tearing off his robes. Shen Qingqiu’s pale skin flushes once it’s exposed to the low light, and he slightly remembers himself.
“The tonic,” he moans, trying to pause Luo Binghe’s sticky hands and dangerous lips. “Remember, I need the tonic, it makes things easier-”
It had been one of the luckiest and most blessed rewards during one of their crazy adventures- a tonic that softened Shen Qingqiu’s entrance alongside the oil, allowing him to take in his ridiculously endowed partner and actually enjoy it. Luo Binghe doesn’t miss a beat; he lifts Shen Qingqiu into one arm and rises, showing off as he grabs the tonic from a table on the other side of the room. Shen Qingqiu pops the cork out and takes a couple gulps while Luo Binghe thumbs open a jar of oil. The moment Shen Qingqiu places the tonic down, Luo Binghe’s fingers are at his entrance. The stretch is still there- the impatient husband stuck three fingers inside at once- but Shen Qingqiu’s groin already roils with a low, intense burn, his body clenching around them.
“Now,” he demands, voice aggressive. “Now, Binghe.”
Luo Binghe slams Shen Qingqiu into the wall, lining up against him. He shoves inside so hard that Shen Qingqiu slides up, his eyes rolling back into his head.
“Fuck!” he cries, gripping so tight he draws blood. “Again. Again!”
This might be the best day of Luo Binghe’s life. He needs no further prompting, plowing into Shen Qingqiu and drinking in every single punched moan and whimpered cry. The pleasurable effects of the aphrodisiac kick in quickly when Shen Qingqiu keens, his pleasure overcoming him with hot, spine curling waves. Luo Binghe fucks him through his orgasm, excited to dirty his dark robes. The servants are hearing every part of this intense lovemaking, and he loves it. He nuzzles into Shen Qingqiu’s neck, leaving open mouthed kisses and bites.
“Breathe,” he whispers, licking the shell of Shen Qingqiu’s ear. “I’ve got you.”
Still catching his breath, Shen Qingqiu barely unclenches his nails to lightly smack Luo Binghe in the head. Undaunted, Luo Binghe moves them back to the bed and lays his lover down, pausing to fully remove his own robes. Then he presses inside until Shen Qingqiu chokes with the pressure.
“You know,” he muses, his expression innocent despite the way he torments Shen Qingqiu. “I think I like that no one else knows about you. That this is our secret.”
Shen Qingqiu doesn’t have time to cringe at the technical inaccuracy before Luo Binghe pulls out of him, rolls him onto his stomach, and penetrates again. He bends with the heavy weight of Luo Binghe’s burning hot torso against his back.
“You can be whoever you want to be in front of everyone else. But only reveal this side to me. Okay, Shizun?”
“Husband,” croaks Shen Qingqiu, yelping when Luo Binghe nips just under his shoulder.
“I love both,” teases Luo Binghe. “I love it when you curse, I love it when you call me shameless, too,” he adds, watching Shen Qingqiu bite down on the retort. “Go ahead, Shizun.” He thrusts into Shen Qingqiu, increasing his rhythm with every repetition. “Shizun, Shizun, Shizun...”
Shen Qingqiu death grips the sheets, his face riding up and down with each impact as Luo Binghe rocks into him. He doesn’t realize how far he’s moved up the bed until Luo Binghe sits up, grips bruising hands around his waist, and brutally pulls him back onto his dick.
“Stop running, Shizun,” he pants. “Don’t run from me, anymore.”
“Fuck me, Binghe,” cries Shen Qingqiu, eyes bugging out of his head. “I’m not going anywhere! I’m here, okay? Have mercy.”
Him and his big damn mouth- rather than soothing Luo Binghe, the heavenly pillar only hardens more.
“Say it again. Please.”
The nerve to sit there and give him those obsessed, puppy dog eyes like he wasn’t just pounding a deadly weapon inside of him! If Shen Qingqiu wasn’t currently impaled on said weapon-
“Husband,” Luo Binghe whines.
Oh, now, I’m ‘husband’! Shen Qingqiu sighs, hiding his face. “I said, I’m not going anywhere. I’m here with you. I prom- AH!”
Luo Binghe thrusts like a madman, and Shen Qingqiu’s waist, back, and thighs burn with his intensity. His limbs noodle with exhaustion, his toes curling in on themselves when Luo Binghe wraps a hand around him and strokes.
“I’m-” Luo Binghe stutters. “Husband, I’m-”
Back arching tight like a bow, Luo Binghe comes with a loud cry. Shen Qingqiu comes more softly this time, insides burning with the spill. When Luo Binghe finally pulls out, he wobbles away, collapsing into the bed with a shudder.
“You’re shaking,” Luo Binghe murmurs. “Come here.”
He says this, but then he’s the one that moves closer, Shen Qingqiu grumbles to himself. Still, he leans back into Luo Binghe’s warm body, aligned perfectly. It could all be perfect, he could let Luo Binghe bathe him, perhaps even fall asleep during the process. But now that he’s not drunk with lust, something that Luo Binghe said earlier tugs at his guilty conscience.
“Just one more thing, Binghe-”
“And now you’ll take them out, and let them drain,” Shen Qingqiu directs, gesturing to the deep pot of boiling oil. Obedient, Luo Binghe removes the metal strainer full of sliced root and places it over the extra tray to drip down. His clothes are covered in oil spots, his hands burned from the popping, but he’s effervescent as his husband teaches him this new, personal and secret recipe. It pleases Shen Qingqiu too, the way Luo Binghe pretends to need more help than he does, so that he can explain.
“Now that they’re done, you can put them on the cloth in the basket and season them with salt.”
With a flourish, Luo Binghe plates the oddly violet ‘fries’ into the basket. As with everything he does, it looks perfect, especially when he dramatically sprinkles the salt on for effect.
“Try one,” Luo Binghe pleads, excited to see how Shen Qingqiu feels about his work. Shen Qingqiu fans the air over the steaming basket for a few moments, finally reaching down to pick one up. Blowing on it a little more, he takes a nervous bite… and moans with pleasure.
“These are perfect, Binghe! Truly! Excellent job.” He gives Luo Binghe a congratulatory pat on the head and keeps eating. He’s in the middle of the basket when Shang Qinghua finds them in the kitchen, holding a message.
“Shang Qinghua! You have to try these.”
Luo Binghe’s glares at his mousy Shishu. Shang Qinghua pales, blinking pointedly wide at Shen Qingqiu. He’d heard that the emperor had taken his husband last night, which usually meant that Luo Binghe was in an excellent mood the next day- what’s going on?
“Binghe made me a treat, since I told him that I was missing home. He has respected that I can’t tell him any more about it.”
Yeesh, Shang Qinghua thinks. Cucumber-bro must have finally slipped up. He surmises that things must be okay, as Shen Qingqiu hasn’t ‘died’ yet again, and Luo Binghe isn’t chasing him through the halls.
“I think I’ll pass.”
“A shame. I thought you should have one.”
Before either can speak, Luo Binghe gestures grandly to the basket.
“Well of course you should have some, Shishu! It would please my Husband if you did!”
You were just glaring at me to leave! Shang Qinghua cries internally. How could he write such an unfilial son? Praying Luo Binghe isn’t in a vindictive mood, Shang Qinghua lifts one of the fries and chews it.
“Wow! These are so good! It’s just like h- just like I’d imagine they’d be!”
Shen Qingqiu taps Shang Qinghua, turning so that his face is hidden. He knows, he mouths, and Shang Qinghua subtly cringes. Damn! I guess Luo Binghe knows about me too. Cucumber-bro, how could you fumble our lives like this?! Unconcerned about Shang Qinghua’s inner conflict, Shen Qingqiu turns back to Luo Binghe, continuing to stroke his arm in affection.
“Binghe made them for me. To let me know that everything’s okay.”
Shang Qinghua can hear the secret message that they’re fine, but he still nervously darts a look at Luo Binghe. Long gone is the demon emperor who emits a sinister aura, who might have tortured him for state secrets or more in another world. The man he’s witnessing now is practically putty, sloppy as he hangs onto green robes for more affection. Strangely enough, Shen Qingqiu is really leaning into it, an honestly soft expression on his face as he whispers quietly. The two of them are lost in their own world, stronger for everything they’ve been through.
Well, okay then, Shang Qinghua relaxes with a shrug. He’s happy for Cucumber. Maybe next time he’ll be the one to get Mobei Jun to make him something from home.