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It starts with an ox.
Specifically ten beastial scourge-scorched oxen, offered to Mobei Jun from a tribe tucked at the western edges of the territory. Their clan leader speaks clear and direct while presenting the gift, bowed at the shadow of Mobei Jun’s throne in humble recognition of her superior. The chieftain’s daughter bows the same, but is given special attention by her mother - being the one who caught the herd of beasts. Boasts of her strength and hunting prowess clearly the chieftain mother’s pride. The offering is well received, and will provide a stable foundation of meat for tribes within his care who lose their game animals during the coldest seasons.
It is a fine gift from the allied clan.
At Mobei Jun’s right, Shang Qinghua twitches.
They accept the herd, his cultivator’s face twisting soured as he makes his little notes, and carries on with the court. Shang Qinghua is well within his trust to see the division of resources is handled properly. Mobei Jun does not think more of it.
Until two days later his cultivator is presenting a weighted stone. Bulbous and dense, set in Mobei Jun’s hand and only under further scrutiny can the king note its particular shape. Resembling a bloated cow or general bovine shape.
“My King!” The man pants in his excitement, warm air filling the space where their discussion meets. There are notable scratches on his knuckles and a look of exhaustion trims his round eyes dark, but Mobei Jun does not have a chance to demand an explanation for such things. “I present to you the seed of echoing stock, the Rain Master’s eternal blessings.”
There are startled whispers in the hall of the North. Servants both gremlin and humanoid, glancing up in interest at the declaration.
Mobei Jun too feels his face startle, small tension in his grip around the ancient relic, staring in wonder and suspicion both.
Planting such a stone within your fields or cattle pens ensured no illness could touch them. Your work would be safe from water shortages, from plague - and for every beast consumed another would appear in its place.
“How did you--” Mobei Jun is a man who hoards his words, but now he simply has none to explain the surprise at such a thing. Uncovered and presented so confidently by his cultivator - something many demons and mortals alike have searched into rumor the relic didn’t exist at all.
“Erm. Logistics?” Shang Qinghua answers, as he answers most things he cannot explain. (Something not infrequent with this man). “Don’t worry about that actually, this servant only wishes to provide.”
Mobei Jun is stunned, squeezing the artefact in question while watching Shang Qinghua closely: the man smiles as he rubs a deeper cut hidden by hair at his scalp.
.
Next it is a flower.
A noble demon’s son attends court with his father. He is handsome and charming, well-read and eager to entertain the gathered court with enchanting stories. Using glimmering magics and quick hands to weave a daring tale of the lovers of the tempting pass and the ever-gild blossom. A tragedy and romance which holds plenty of bloodshed for bored demons listening, and a swooning end for those more civilized to enjoy.
Mobei Jun is interested in neither. His attention is settled more on the attempts of the story-teller’s father to renegotiate supplies to their realm, trying to use his son’s lithe and pretty form as a distraction. For Mobei Jun to show his great displeasure would not suit the mood of the gathering so Mobei Jun listens with stillness. Trying not to be rude to the pretty storyteller but very much wishing he could shove both he and his father out a tower window.
The son, with lowered voice, asks after his king his feelings on such a romantic tale. His attempts to have Mobei Jun agree with his less than subtle nudges, wanting to bring into focus the flower’s purpose of the story. The flower dripping gold as a lover’s present. Wouldn’t that be a grand gesture for one who has caught your eye? The spoiled son must have something in his eye, Mobei Jun thinks as the storyteller keeps blinking with a strange rhythm.
To move past the lingering on silly stories, Mobei Jun agrees.
“Yes.” He grunts softly, better to withhold his irritation at the affair. “A gesture indeed.”
He spots Shang Qinghua frowning at his dinnerplate moments after - the cultivator picking at the meal his earlier gift provided - with a despondent look and a gloom to his usually bright features. Mobei Jun considers this very strange, the man liked ridiculous stories, perhaps this one was not to his taste?
Regardless, Mobei Jun quickly forgets the tale and the talkative storyteller completely. Thoughts were replaced with Shang Qinghua’s frown instead and what of the meal displeased him…
Until a week later.
Shang Qinghua has a bruise on his arm and is wearing new boots. Something Mobei Jun notices immediately as a strange mortals’ stench clings to the new article of clothing and sets his hackles to rise. (If Shang Qinghua needed new garments why did he go to his mountain? Why not ask Mobei Jun for anything he required instead of walking into the palace reeking of another’s scent?)
“My King, you seemed so taken with the story…”
Mobei Jun almost had to question what story, but upon seeing what occupied his cultivator’s arms he recalled immediately the tale from the dinner prior.
The Ever-Gild Blossom is said to be lost deep within the shadows of the tempting pass: a ravine drowning in mad ghosts and haunting beasts. All tales hint at intricate tests, fierce battles and soul-leeching dangers...but here in his study Shang Qinghua presents a flower of crystal petals and a metal stem swollen with liquid gold.
“Shang Qinghua-”
“My only request!” Shang Qinghua squeaks out, eyes darting to and fro. “Is that you keep this and not give it to anyone else!”
What dangers had met his cultivator for him to obtain such a treasure? What has Shang Qinghua been up to?! It was not unusual for vassals to present gifts, tokens of servitude or offerings to the throne as a sign of good will and loyalty. But such a thing...and the ox token before…
“This King will not share with any other.” He responds, still stunned by the blossom casting a hypnotic host of colors across his study when caught by the winter’s sun outside. “But how did you precure such a thing?” Shang Qinghua is not a fighter - and infact the thought of his cultivator daring such obstacles because of a story! Madness. Who escorted his retainer, who protected him when all the tales of this flower were so-
“It’s this servant’s honor to provide.” Shang Qinghua adds, shifty and his mouth twitches, fighting a smile which strikes Mobei Jun as odd.
Since when does Shang Qinghua deny his king a smile?
.
Such things continue to happen.
Shang Qinghua presents him with the tome of Northern Hearsay, a lost spell book of his family’s dynasty which Mobei Jun’s own father mourned it’s potential.
Shang Qinghua arrives one evening to the inner chambers of the palace, a bruise on his temple and the steel-ire cloak of legend in hand. The garment worn by an ancient king whose blood soaked the fabric and now could turn away any weapon that sought to injure.
Shang Qinghua brings him a waterskin swollen with the Draught of Heaven’s sigh and Shang Qinghua brings him the lashes of That-Which-Is-The-Living’s-Bane and Shang Qinghua brings him a glass box filled with wraith whispers and Mobei Jun is struck silent each time.
“Logistics”
“OP items are rarely as hidden as you think”
Or
“Had it laying around.”
These were Shang Qinghua’s excuses for such extravagant gifts. Dismissive and simple and clearly not the truth but who was Mobei Jun to doubt him? To treat Shang Qinghua’s wonderous presents with suspicion, or worse, disrespect.
“Just don’t give it to anyone else.” Was his retainer’s only wish, and such a foolish one. Why would Mobei Jun ever share these gifts from Shang Qinghua with another? He is the envy of his court, of demon kin who know what these gifts are worth - it is something he did not expect to take pleasure in… (and Shang Qinghua too seems to enjoy it when the storyteller visits again and looks aghast to see the golden bloom in Mobei Jun’s possession. Or the chieftain's daughter no longer sending oxen to please her lord as Shang Qinguha’s gift makes it unnecessary. His cultivator looks pleased when Mobei Jun explains they, and a few others, will not be visiting the palace so often and he did not think his retainer was so dismissive of these demons…)
But Mobei Jun has filled a wall of his study with these items. His treasury expanded to properly guard such ancient things, his estranged family painted with shock and envious sneers at the recovered artefacts of their lineage: all by his often bruised and jostled cultivator who showed no sign of stopping.
And each gift left the demon king struggling with an ancient twinge of delight.
Something warm trickling through his veins at every gift - every gesture of servitude - every declaration “ this servant’s honor to provide” while round warm eyes watched him with expectation. Such a look satisfied when Mobei Jun took the gifts and...
Oh.
Provide.
Mobei Jun’s head hit the back of his throne with a thunk , startling nearby attendants.
Demonic courting was not something he often considered as more than a thing which existed. Typically bloody, either battling the one you coveted to prove you are powerful enough to protect them - or slaughtering an equally strong beast if one’s desired was not a breed of physical prowess.
Gift giving in his people’s way was usually matters of conquered territory or the head of your intended mate’s enemy. But presents…
Hm.
If Shang Qinghua was exchanging bloodshed as per demonic custom, to court with gifts for the intention of asking Mobei Jun to accept him as a mate...
(The servants let out sharp noises in fear as the temperature dropped low even for their protected hides. Scattering from the great hall to seek shelter from lethal frost building from the king’s throne in intricate patterns.)
Then Shang Qinghua was taking too damn long to ask!
.
The next gift couldn’t come soon enough.
Shang Qinghua presents him with a spear mentioned by a guest of the east a few weeks ago. (They were beautiful and strong and his court had not stopped chatting about the possibility of a match between their kingdoms for days. Mobei Jun had ignored it but Shang Qinghua’s mood had only soured. Jealousy was a delicious look on his human. The bitter flush suited him and made Mobei Jun want to bite his cheek.)
It’s a beautiful weapon, with few as it’s greater, and would be the crown of any King’s armory.
Shang Qinghua lets out a positively horrified squeak when Mobei Jun tosses it reckless to the side. The fine craftsmanship sent sailing across the stone and ice floor, screeching and clattering to a far corner.
“My King! That was-”
“I accept.” Mobei Jun announces, bringing the jumpy peak lord’s attention back to him.
“You can’t accept after throwing it to the floor! Do you know what I had to do to get--”
Mobei Jun’s hands frame Shang Qinghua’s face, feeling the rabbit pulse against his palms dash towards the sky when his cold lips press to a slack and startled mouth.
Shang Qinghua is so clearly stunned by his hard work finally coming to fruition, that he doesn't kiss back. Only a long whine unwinds from his throat and gives Mobei Jun a reason to grin, amused and equally pleased at the taste of his cultivator’s mouth. Licking a possessive stripe across open lips, only to catch the weight of his jaw when Shang Qinghua’s knees seem to give out.
His following chuckle is a purr against the man’s lips, thumb scrubbing the reddening cheeks and he kisses Shang Qinghua’s brow still holding the cultivator upright.
“S-S-My-Ki-SireKing?!” The explosive gasp, the following shiver - ah - Shang Qinghua is so emotive when he gets what he wants.
“No more gifts, you’ve made your point.”
Shang Qinghua is shaking, his eyes wide and really it’s no trouble to lift his new-found mate. Carry him as his joy is causing him physical weakness. Mobei Jun is strong enough, Shang Qinghua has done so much already, and Mobei Jun can do the rest.
“This King accepts and urges his Shang Qinghua to enjoy the ways in which he will be spoiled now.” It wouldn’t do for his mate to be off trying to collect more offerings and gifts when his seduction has worked perfectly. Besides, Mobei Jun is not happy to think he’s been sneaking around in dangerous places...without him.
“Oh.” Shang Qinghua’s temperature rises and is tolerated for the sake of adoration of the ridiculous face he’s wearing. He almost feels bad for it, that Shang Qinghua is in such shock at being accepted. “So does this mean...you’re not getting married to those other demons - er - My King?”
Mobei Jun tugs a lock of Shang Qinghua’s hair as a light punishment for bringing up any others.
“No.” There is a small tension untied from his cultivator’s body and Mobei Jun knows he’s a fool for taking so long. “This King’s marriage to his Peak Lord Shang Qinghua will be his only.”
“Oh that’s good.” Shang Qinghua relaxes as Mobei Jun carries his betrothed through the frigid palace seeking privacy to celebrate their engagement.
...And because he adores the squirmy human he will forgive him for screaming “WAIT WHAT?!” into his ear.