Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Head Disciples hold one final meeting amongst themselves, the day before their succession ceremony.

Seated around a long table in a closed room on Qiong Ding Peak, everyone looks towards Yue Qingyuan as he sets the meeting into motion.

“The first order of business, as new Peak Lords, would be deciding on the budget needed for the year,” Yue Qingyuan declares, as he stands right at the head of the table. “I trust that all of you have come prepared with your plans for the year.”

The whole lot of them indeed have. Shen Jiu, in particular, had spent the past few weeks poring over the accounting books belonging to Qing Jing Peak, trying to work out what were the most pressing priorities of the peak. They would soon be getting a new influx of disciples, and he wanted to make sure every one of their last needs were accounted for.

One by one, each of the Head Disciples come forth with their request.

“I would like more funds for my medicinal research.”

“I would like to purchase more raw materials and tools, handy for repairing.”

“I would like to enact a male-repellant barrier at the entrance of my peak.”

“I would like to order more training swords for the incoming disciples, the ones we currently practice with are too old.”

Yue Qingyuan notes all of it down onto his book, then focuses his gaze towards Shen Jiu, who had remained quiet so far throughout this entire meeting.

“And, for Qing Jing Peak?” Yue Qingyuan asks.

The fox spirit pulls out a book of his own, one that he’d made several of his own notes in, then earnestly makes his request, “I would like to fully renovate the current library. It’s too old and cramped, and it’s hard to locate the books that we need. I’d also like to add private rooms where our disciples can have a quiet space to study in. If possible, I also have a list of new books that we could order for the library.”

Yue Qingyuan gives such a thoughtful look, like he sees the value in such a request and wants so badly to say yes—however extenuating circumstances out of his control were preventing him from doing so. “Each Peak Lord gets the same amount of budget, for fairness’ sake. Such a thing would simply cost way too much. I can, however, grant you the budget to order in new books for the library.”

The sheer look of overwhelming disappointment on Shen Jiu’s face is enough to move the hearts of the entire room.

Liu Feng is the first to stand up, hurriedly cutting in with an offer of his own, “What if I offered up the budget for Bai Zhan Peak? My disciples don’t need new training swords, after all.”

(They do, in fact, quite need those new training swords, having been repeatedly getting cuts and blisters from using the old, faulty ones. Bai Zhan Peak Lord Liu Qingge, you are way too cruel to your disciples!)

“Liu Feng, sit back down,” Shen Jiu hushes him, aggressively pinching at his robes. “I don’t need you sacrificing Bai Zhan’s budget for me! Your disciples definitely need new swords!”

“No, Qingge is right, books are very important,” Mu Qingfang suddenly pipes up, saying. “And isn’t the library for all disciples of Cang Qiong Mountain, anyway? If that’s the case, then please feel free to take Qian Cao’s budget as well.”

Shen Jiu widens his eyes. “M...Mu-shidi! I cannot possibly accept such a thing from you…!”

“A-Actually, I think An Ding Peak has enough materials to last us for another year!” Shang Qinghua squeaks out as well, not wanting to lose to the other Peak Lords. “S-Shen Qingqiu, please accept An Ding’s budget as well!”

Qi Qingqi scoffs aloud, “Are you all being serious, right now?” She then turns to Yue Qingyuan, raises an inquisitive brow, and asks rather disbelievingly, “Yue zhangmen-shixiong, is giving away a peak’s budget to another peak even allowed?”

“Well,” Yue Qingyuan answers, with a very straight face. “To my knowledge, this has never been done before in the history of Cang Qiong Mountain. However…”

“Yue-ge, I don’t need any of it,” Shen Jiu hastily says, hoping to get on his good side so he will stop enabling all this nonsense. “I’m content with just the new books. Just the new books, will be good enough for me!”

“...Qiong Ding Peak will have some budget to spare for Qing Jing Peak as well,” Yue Qingyuan finishes, nodding on to Shen Jiu. The fox spirit’s face instantly pales. Trust Yue Qingyuan to go along with the wishes of these bunch of fools!

“So, Shen Qingqiu is still getting his library, in the end?” Qi Qingqi laughs, shaking her head. She knows it’s a lost cause with the other Peak Lords. “Ah, whatever. We can live without a male-repellant barrier for another year. My girls can defend themselves. Give Shen Qingqiu Xian Shu’s budget as well. There is no safer place than a library, after all.”

Shen Jiu remains squirming awkwardly in his seat, stewing in a hot mixture of—frustration, delight and embarrassment. Rather reluctantly, he bows his head to the rest of the Head Disciples, and shamefully utters out, “Qing Jing Peak will be in your debt…”

“It’s no matter,” Liu Feng sits back down, placing a hand back down onto Shen Jiu’s shoulder. “Cang Qiong simply wants to do the best for our disciples.”

“Yes, yes, it’s all for the disciples,” Mu Qingfang agrees. He nudges Shang Qinghua next to him to pacify Shen Jiu’s worries as well. “Isn’t that right, Shang-shixiong?”

“Y-Yes, yes!” Shang Qinghua anxiously speaks up. “Definitely not just for your sake, Shen Qingqiu!”

“It’s pure and blatant favouritism, that’s what,” Qi Qingqi mutters under her breath. But she puts on an award-winning smile to Shen Jiu, and waves her unkind remarks away. “Our Shen Qingqiu should have whatever he wants~” He has suffered way too much in his previous life, not to.

And so, just like that, the Peak Lords’ budget is decided for the new year.

Shen Jiu hangs his ceremonial robes up against his traditional folding screens, taking a step back only to admire it in its entirety. Made out of several layers of heavy white and green silk—his favourite combination of colours—these robes have been specially customised for the occasion, with deep gold threading on his long sleeves and embroidered bamboo detail on the hems of his robes. The silk used is of the highest grade, too, spun from the produce of the rare and terrifying beast, The Three-Eyed Silkworm, found only in the deepest depths of an ice-cold cave in the northern region. Under the sunlight, the silk threads shimmer so incandescently; and when one spins around in these robes, the glimmer and dazzle is almost blinding. It’s a gown fitting for a royal; an empress, even.

There are matching gold hairpins and jade hairpieces to boot, but no hair crown; for he shall be gifted one by the current Qing Jing Peak Lord tomorrow, during the final act of the succession ceremony. Only then will he fully succeed his current shizun, and take charge of Qing Jing Peak henceforth.

To say Shen Jiu is giddy with excitement for tomorrow is a complete understatement. This is the most important day of his life. This is the most he has ever accomplished, entirely on his own. It is such a grand occasion that the entire Cang Qiong Mountain will be in attendance, and even the Liu family will be making their way down to be part of the spectating audience. It’d be his first time seeing Liu-furen again, after a long while. And he’s so pleased that he has done her so proud in her absence.

The only one, the only other person left that would be missing in attendance, that he’d want to be there, was… well, his Bing-gege.

Shen Jiu is sure the man would be equally proud of him so.

But it’s been years since he disappeared, and despite the eventual return he’d hinted about in the letter, Shen Jiu never ever heard back from him. Never so much as caught a glimpse, never even received a second letter. There have been no word to his whereabouts, to where he’d gone, “deep in the depths of hell”. And while Shen Jiu has entertained the thought, so many times, of roaming about this realm in a bid to find his Bing-gege, he knows he’d only be a fool to do so. If a man doesn’t want to be found, then he won’t be found. And if he hasn’t surfaced even after so long, despite clearly knowing where he could find Shen Jiu, then Shen Jiu can only assume that Bing-gege simply no longer cared for him, and had found a better life elsewhere. Perhaps even with one of those young, beautiful maidens that would always have been able to give him a big family. Shen Jiu tries not to let his thoughts stray too much. He hates wallowing, hates the way he’s made to feel about the idea of Bing-gege so consciously choosing a life without him.

Hates the way Bing-gege abandoned him without so much an explanation, at all.

But there was always the second possibility, there was always the thought that perhaps he’d had his own difficulties, his own struggles that he had to deal with. For Shen Jiu had been so young then, and Bing-gege probably thought it’d have been inappropriate to unload any of it onto the young fox spirit. Shen Jiu would prefer to think of his Bing-gege like that. That even when he left him back then, he’d only done so with Shen Jiu’s happiness in mind, and nothing else. That he’d wanted to leave Shen Jiu in the way he best knew how: with his sweet rice balls, a final act of his enduring love; and an even sweeter promise he’d wanted so badly to fulfill.

Because there was always the alternative to consider: that the only reason his Bing-gege never came back for him was not because he didn’t want to, but because he was dead.

But that’s just way too much for Shen Jiu to ever take.

And maybe it’s because he is no longer a child, and now holds the maturity of an adult; perhaps it’s because time and distance has done him good, and so he no longer bears grudges against a man who always wanted the best for him.

But he’d rather have been abandoned and have Bing-gege alive and well in a corner of the universe, than ever think him dead.

So, even if Bing-gege isn’t able to turn up for his succession ceremony tomorrow, Shen Jiu fingers the silk of his ceremonial robes and thinks, Bing-gege, I know you’d be so proud of the me today. I know you would. And I miss you, more than anything in the world. And if you ever decided to come back, I’d forgive you in a heartbeat.

You know I would.

Shen Jiu stirs up from his deep sleep, waking up in—what he quickly comes to recognise as—the bamboo forest of Qing Jing Peak. Oddly enough, he registers it as the bamboo forest, but he knows it’s not his bamboo forest, the one he has grown so familiar with and has spent the better part of his life in. It’s because the bamboo trees don’t look right, like they’d been haphazardly drawn out of someone’s imagination; and the way the sunlight falls on the forest, it’s coming from an entirely different direction, opposite of where the sun usually hangs from the backside of the mountain.

It’s like he’d somehow wormed his way into a distant memory of the Qing Jing Peak bamboo forest, from a person who, admittedly, hasn’t been there for a very, very long time. And memories sure have a way of playing a trick on you, manifesting the layout of things and spaces that weren’t quite there before.

Already he is on his guard. Shen Jiu knows he is in someplace he is not meant to be.

He raises a hand and tries to feel up the bamboo tree right before him, wondering if he has somehow been lured into a trap of a vicious entity during his sleep. He has heard a ton about the chaos that has been taking place in the demon realm of late. He knows there have been a good amount of them escaping in the recent months, seeking refuge in the human realm away from the clutches of their newest—brutal and merciless—Heavenly Demonic emperor, causing mayhem wherever they flee to. It would not be out of the question for them to attack Cang Qiong just when they least expected it: the night right before their succession ceremony.

The worst part of it all is that he is currently without his Xiu Ya sword. He would not be at an advantage should a demon attack him at this moment.

No matter; he has been chosen as Peak Lord for good reason. Shen Jiu shakes any ounce of doubt off, and thinks to himself, should he encounter an attack right here and now, he knows he will have his wits and trickery to count on to win any battle he gets roped into.

But just as he trudges deeper into the forest as part of his investigations to ascertain whether he, truly, is alone in this forest, he hears a soft sob suddenly erupt from behind him, in the direction of—what must only be a short distance away, meaning he is only several steps away from a potential threat.

Shen Jiu does not so much as make another movement. He stills right in his spot, readying his hands into a battle stance. Any moment now, any further noise, and he’ll counter with his first attack.

But that’s when he first hears it.

That’s when he first hears him.

“S...Shizun?”

Shen Jiu’s heart stutters. Suddenly those hands of his aren’t so rigid anymore.

Shen Jiu whirls around immediately without so much as drawing another breath, because because he has heard that voice countless of times in his dreams, recounted that single voice hundreds of times in exiled memories, enough to never be able to mistake it, enough to recognise it anywhere, he long promised himself he’d follow that voice to the ends of hell, no matter how far it might be, oh, he must have finally come back for him—

“Bing-gege?”

He’s so absurdly attractive now, it’s unfair. The years have been so, so good to the man, adding that many more couple of inches to his height, filling out his already very broad shoulders to the maximum, and giving him a physique so ridiculously muscular and godly it is to die for. Those bulging pecs of his strain against the thin fabric at his forearms; the defined curves of his meaty chest overtly visible through his clothing. Not a single ounce of baby fat remains in those cheekbones on Luo Binghe’s face, and the way those dark eyes raise their gaze towards Shen Jiu, in such a steadfast, unrelenting stare—oh, god, Shen Jiu could swoon.

He’d grown up every bit the man Shen Jiu always thought he’d be. He’d grown up into the handsomest man alive. Every bit of those feelings, those innocently-held affections he’d had as a child, the ones that Shen Jiu had long buried away and suppressed with every fibre of his being; they were all being dug up now, they were all flooding right back to the surface with double the force, double the heat and intensity, never to be sealed away ever again.

Luo Binghe had always been his first love. And rightfully so, too.

(For have you ever looked at the man?)

Cloaked in his signature red and black, now with a regal, golden lining to his robes, those heavy garments on him serve to elevate his status to that of an emperor’s. The intricate, fearsome dragon embroidery sewn onto his silken clothes says enough. With every big step that he takes towards Shen Jiu, he radiates nothing else but—power, control, and dominance. The red demon sigil on his forehead, too, has long been broken, and glows intensely with undisputable life and vigour. There is no way the common man would not be intimidated by such a stance. But Shen Jiu is no common man, and he’d never once feared Luo Binghe. Never had a reason to, not when the older man always took such good care of him, always treated him so well.

The only thing that still hasn’t changed after all these years, Shen Jiu notes to himself, are those beautiful curly locks of Luo Binghe’s hair that Shen Jiu always loved brushing through, in those dewy mornings back in their hut. They’re still as long and luscious as ever, so impossibly perfect, looking every bit the daydream Shen Jiu remembers them to be.

And the way Luo Binghe’s lips would always break apart at the very sight of Shen Jiu, would always call for him, so sweetly, just like he is doing, right now,

“A-Jiu…”

Even before he is able to make sense of what is happening, Shen Jiu is immediately pulled into Luo Binghe’s embrace and squeezed painfully in his arms, something that Shen Jiu quickly sinks into.

You’re real, Shen Jiu thinks, gasping breathily into the air. You’re real, and you’ve come back to me. You’ve finally returned to me.

Whatever Luo Binghe had done to get him here, he does not know.

But this, most certainly, isn’t just a hallucination.

It’s him.

“You’ve never been this life-like before,” Luo Binghe whispers out, pressing his mouth right into the crook of Shen Jiu’s neck. It sends the fox spirit trembling, from just how—how close, how intimate he is being with him. They’d never been this way before, not even back then, not even those nights where they’d cuddle each other to sleep, everytime. But now that they’re older, much older, it seems Luo Binghe finally is comfortable enough to cross unspoken boundaries that had always been there…

Luo Binghe continues to inhale in every bit of Shen Jiu’s scent, his two large hands on Shen Jiu’s back almost crushing the fox spirit from how tightly he’s holding him, how badly he’s engulfing him. “Oh, you smell so good, shizun. You smell so, so good. It seems these dreams can only get better and better. But soon, soon, I won’t even need you anymore. I’ll have the real thing…”

...Huh.

Over the years as Head Disciple, and during his intensive studies on Qing Jing Peak, Shen Jiu has been able to learn much about demons, including their various capacities to manipulate realms. There is one such ancient, powerful demon who goes by the name of Meng Mo, who can enter his victims’ dreams, recreate cities of interest, and absorb their spiritual power to survive. It does seem reasonable to conclude that Luo Binghe had come into possession of such power, having somehow been able to draw Shen Jiu’s spirit into such a dream.

But it is also quickly becoming apparent to him that Luo Binghe had not done so on purpose, not when Luo Binghe looks at him all starry-eyed, like he thinks Shen Jiu is a vision, a figment of his imagination, a construct he’d entirely erected from his very own powers. He… plainly does not think Shen Jiu is real.

And then it strikes Shen Jiu—that this is his advantage. That, perhaps, just perhaps, this is the one opportunity he’s been waiting for, that he’s been dreaming of, of how he will finally be able to get the answers he always wanted from his Bing-gege.

That this is his one chance to finally know why he left.

“Bing-gege,” Shen Jiu calls out to him, so sweet and so gentle like he’s sure Luo Binghe remembers him to be, and presses a hand delicately to the side of the man’s face. He knows if he gives Luo Binghe what he wants, then he’ll be able to pry exactly what he wants out of the man. Dealing with Luo Binghe has always been so… so straightforward, that way. And if this is truly his Luo Binghe—and it is—then Luo Binghe will give him everything he needs when he is like this; Luo Binghe will crumble underneath his advances, as he always has, before.

As expected, Luo Binghe only leans further in when he hears Shen Jiu’s soft murmur, continuing to embrace Shen Jiu whole.

The fox spirit cocks his head to the side and asks him, with big and bright eyes, full of the hopeful, innocent glimmer he used to have as a child, his two fox ears twitching excitedly in the air, “Bing-gege, Bing-gege, when will you come to find me in the real world? I miss you. I miss you so much.”

“Oh…” Luo Binghe’s eyes well up, clearly having not expected to hear such sweet words leave his shizun’s lips. All of it—it makes Shen Jiu’s heart so weak at the sight. Bing-gege still loves me so much. Bing-gege still wants me, so much.

The Heavenly Demon grasps Shen Jiu even tighter, and desperately informs him, “I want to so badly, shizun. The palace is almost ready for you. The demon realm has even been subdued, all for you. I’ve already prepared a carriage, an entourage, to ferry you back here from Cang Qiong Mountain. But I…”

Wait, Shen Jiu blinks, taking in all of this, quickly piecing everything together. A palace? A demon realm? An entourage? Don’t tell me…

Luo Binghe had been the Heavenly Demon responsible for usurping Tianlang-jun’s throne?

And all for him, too?

Had—had Shen Jiu inadvertently been the reason for his old friend’s destruction?

For Tianlang-jun’s demise?

“But you...?” Shen Jiu continues to ask, his heart pounding away in his chest. He’s not quite sure what to do with this new piece of information. He’s not quite sure he can even stomach the knowledge of it all.

“It’s, ah…” Luo Binghe’s face is suddenly pained, his gaze downturned. He loosens his grip on the fox spirit, and turns slightly away, looking to his feet. “Shizun, I don’t know how to face you…”

Shen Jiu immediately feels the first hot flash of anger, seeing white, but resists from launching into a tirade that will only destroy his entire charade.

“What do you mean,” Shen Jiu hisses out, reaching out a hand to clench at Luo Binghe’s robes. The man can’t just stop here, now. “What do you mean you cannot face me?”

“I left you behind, for so long,” Luo Binghe whimpers, still unwilling to meet his eyes. “I left you when you most needed me. You must have hated me, all this time. I can’t have you hate me. I’d rather die than have you hate me. But if I didn’t, then Liu Qingge… then Liu Qingge…”

This is it, Shen Jiu thinks, with a wild pulse. This is the real truth.

“Then Liu Qingge, what?” Shen Jiu asks, his hands trembling against Luo Binghe’s chest. “What would Liu Qingge have done if you didn’t leave? Did he threaten you? Did he say something? What did he do to you?”

Luo Binghe lifts his head back up, and gazes at Shen Jiu with such heartache, Shen Jiu feels almost inclined to forgive him for anything, immediately. “He was going to tell you everything. How I tortured you to death, how I killed your Qi-ge in your previous life. And how could I ever have that? You know me as your protector. You don’t know me as your monster. But I—I’ve always been a monster. I’ve always done everything in my power to hurt you. But you see, shizun,” and Luo Binghe’s grabbing at both of Shen Jiu’s shoulders, and pressing his forehead weakly to his, his lips airing his warm breath right against his face, “I don’t want any of that anymore. I love you. I love you so, so much. And when you showed me how kind you could be in this life, I—I couldn’t ever possibly lose you. I couldn’t possibly ever let you know. So when he made that threat, all I could do was to go…”

And just like that, a whirlwind of memories assails Shen Jiu, with such vividness and force that it quickly makes his gait unsteady, sinking him slowly down onto the ground.

Whether these flashbacks have always laid dormant within Shen Jiu’s mind, within Shen Jiu’s soul, always waiting to awaken should he been provided the right trigger; or whether it was Luo Binghe himself who’d, in a fit of sadness and anger, accidentally sent a whole wave of memories over, slipping them into his head, Shen Jiu does not know.

All Shen Jiu knows is that his old memories pound away at his head, one after another, quickly telling a narrative of a life he knows he must have lived in the past—and what a sad, sad way to live, Shen Jiu thinks—of blood, of betrayal, of torture, of tumultuous heartbreak and endless pain.

It’s strange, really, to witness an entire life that is yours—but also, not really; because Shen Jiu knows he’s not the man pictured in these memories. That’s not him, begging Qi-ge to go back when he was trapped at the Qius’. That’s not him, whipping Luo Binghe with such vengeance in a wooden shed on Qing Jing Peak. That’s not him, causing Liu Qingge’s death with his incompetence. That’s not him, shutting himself out from the rest of the world, even himself, never letting his ears and tails show even in the comfort of his own bed.

Shen Jiu does not know the Shen Qingqiu in these memories at all. It’s not him. (But it’s him.) And that’s not his Bing-gege. (But it’s him.)

Yes, in a way, everything finally makes sense. It explains the bizzare ways in which everyone in this lifetime always acted around him, always on their tip-toes and so, so afraid of hurting Shen Jiu in any possible way; it explains all of their slip-ups and the coddling and all of Bing-gege’s ‘shizun’s and Liu Qingge’s ‘Qingqiu’s and even Yue Qingyuan’s ‘Xiao Jiu’s, but it—it also doesn’t excuse every bit of their actions at all, not to a Shen Jiu who is most definitely not the same Shen Qingqiu that they remember in their previous life.

He’s sadder, he’s lonelier, and he’s much more unforgiving, Shen Jiu thinks. But that’s because he never had all of you on his side, the way I always did.

He never had a Bing-gege that loved him, the way he did.

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe hurries to say, kneeling right down to the ground where Shen Jiu has collapsed against. He feels up Shen Jiu’s face, caressing past his two white cheeks, now fully absent of blood, “Shizun, are you well? Why do you look so pale? Have I upset you?”

Shen Jiu casts his eyes back up upon Luo Binghe’s face, and, in spite of everything he has just seen and so dramatically witnessed, of his own limbs being so carelessly torn apart and of Qi-ge’s broken and tattered shards of sword, of the sort of cruelty he’d seen Luo Binghe been capable of—

—God, he’s finding that he doesn’t even really care.

“You shouldn’t have left,” Shen Jiu furiously tells him, hardly conscious of the way his eyes have begun welling up, all hot and red. “You shouldn’t have made your own decision, and left me all alone. Did you really think I would have hated you, once I knew the truth? You’ve taken care of me all my life. I would have done anything for you. Did you—did you really think I would have begrudged you? For what? A life I can’t even remember? Luo Binghe, I don’t even care.”

Luo Binghe’s eyes peel wide open at this sudden outburst. Now… this raw, honest display of shizun of his doesn’t seem very dream-like. But he goes on to explain himself anyway, unable to bear the beautiful crying face of his shizun, “Shizun, I… I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t take the risk. If you ever hated me because of our past, then I’d be right back at square one. Shizun, I have loved you, for two lifetimes. Do you understand? I couldn’t take the risk. I couldn’t lose you, when I finally had you.”

“Then what about me?” Shen Jiu yells out this time, swallowing down his tears, all fuming and angry. “What about our hut, our farm, our life, the family you promised we’d have? You threw that all away on the basis of fear? You threw all my hopes and dreams away, just because you were afraid I wouldn’t want that anymore, once I knew the truth? You’re stupid, Luo Binghe. I always looked up to you, but you’re stupid, stupid, stupid! You’re the stupidest man I’ve ever known.”

And Shen Jiu always thought Luo Binghe knew him better than anyone else, but it looks like that really wasn’t true.

“A-Jiu...” Luo Binghe’s cupping both of Shen Jiu’s cheeks again, bringing him close. “Please don’t cry. You know it breaks my heart.”

“You broke my heart!”

“I was going to come back,” Luo Binghe tells him, all choked up, tears messily pooling around his eyes. Luo Binghe has such a handsome face, but he’s so ugly when he cries, Shen Jiu thinks. “I really was. I was going to amass all this power, and become the ruler of the demon realm, and come back for you, just so no one would ever be able to take you away from me again. So that Liu Qingge wouldn’t have anything to hold against me anymore. Shizun, please believe me. I’ve—god, I’ve suffered so badly, in the abyss, I didn’t want to go back there but I had to, and now Xin Mo has its control over me again and I—I just want that life with you again, back on that farm, waking up to your smiling face. Shizun, I want that so badly, more than anything in the world. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I would re-do it all again, if I could.” And Luo Binghe’s voice is almost completely gone by the end of it all, having cracked into oblivion.

The man’s already an emperor now, and yet he’s still reduced to this when he’s before his shizun. Luo Binghe rubs pitifully at his own eyes, doing his best not to dissolve into pathetic sobs right before his shizun. Shen Jiu… well, Shen Jiu’s heart can’t help but wrench at the very sight. He can see the regret all too clear on his Bing-gege’s face. He knows Luo Binghe isn’t lying to him. He knows Luo Binghe would rather die than lie to him. He knows Luo Binghe has always loved him, more than anything in the world.

And so it’s with this knowledge that Shen Jiu palms at Luo Binghe’s cheek, and brushes the wet tears away from his eyes.

“You’re older than me, you can’t cry,” Shen Jiu scolds him, saying, even as he continues to wipe at Luo Binghe’s face and caress him, so softly, in ways only a lover would. He’d been mad at Luo Binghe before, but after witnessing this—this—god, Shen Jiu’s heart has gone soft for him, again. How could he ever be mad at his Bing-gege, when the man loves him so much? “But I believe you. I believe you. I know you wouldn’t have left me if you thought you had a choice.” Shen Jiu’s still not completely sure what the abyss is, or what Xin Mo can do. But Luo Binghe looks so distraught talking about it, Shen Jiu knows it can’t be anything good. And he knows Luo Binghe must have suffered enough, in his absence. Shen Jiu can’t punish him anymore for it. “Was it… painful?”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Luo Binghe clears his throat immediately to say, this time with a small, grateful smile forming upon his lips. All that matters to him is his shizun cares. And shizun’s comfort, shizun’s love for him means more than anything else; he’d return to the abyss a million times if it meant Shen Jiu would look at him, would care for him the same way he is doing, right now. “Being away from you was the hardest part. The rest was nothing. I’d done it all before, so I could do it again.”

Even if Luo Binghe must have been subjected to pure hell and torture, Shen Jiu knows the man would never reveal any bit of what he’d gone through to his shizun to spare him the heartache. At the end of it all, Luo Binghe’s still thinking of him, despite how badly he must have suffered.

“A… A-Jiu, I know you liked our hut, and our farm,” Luo Binghe begins again, with much hope and resolve in his voice. “But I, I have a palace now. A throne built next to me, just for you. If you want a farm again, I’ll have the servants build us one. If you want anything else, just name it, and I’ll have it done for you.”

Shen Jiu sighs, turning his eyes away to the ground. He thinks back on their old life together, the one near the small town, and utters out sadly, “I rather liked the crops that we grew on our own.”

“Then we’ll grow it again ourselves, together,” Luo Binghe insists, urgently. “We’ll grow our own farm, right out in the garden. There’s a spot that’s perfect for it. I’ll show you.”

Shen Jiu’s heart, rather infuriatingly, grows warm. How much had Luo Binghe been longing to show him, all this while? In a way, Shen Jiu’s relieved. All this time, he’d thought Luo Binghe had begun another life with another maiden. Instead, his Bing-gege had crafted an entirely new, much more perfect life, that he’d been waiting to fit Shen Jiu in…

Still, it’s not like Shen Jiu wants to let Bing-gege get off on this scot-free.

“But what makes you think I’ll just return with you to whatever palace you now have?” Shen Jiu mumbles out, remaining rather indignant. “I’ve built an entirely new life for myself. I have friends, now. I have disciples, too. And tomorrow, I will be crowned as Qing Jing Peak Lord. Maybe I don’t need a Bing-gege anymore.”

And Luo Binghe is finally grinning, when he hears such snark from his shizun that he has so unbelievably missed. “Because, because, in this lifetime, you’re my A-Jiu. You love me… you care for me, in ways you couldn’t, before. And you came to me, just when I needed you the most. You’re real, and you’re here, and you’ve already forgiven me for all of my transgressions. I had been worried about how you’d have reacted before, but after this dream… I know shizun truly loves me.”

Shen Jiu’s cheeks burn at such presumptions being made about him, and so he huffs, turning his face haughtily away. He spitefully says to him, “Maybe I’m already dead.”

“No, you aren’t,” Luo Binghe hums aloud, shaking his head. “Shang Qinghua tells me you are healthy and well.”

Shen Jiu startles at the revelation. He should have known. That little imp! “I always knew that mouse had something up his sleeve!”

“I pay him good coin to keep tabs on you,” Luo Binghe says, tucking a single strand of hair behind Shen Jiu’s hair. His hand ghosts down the back of Shen Jiu’s neck, lightly caressing the expanse of skin that is there. “Just for my peace of mind. I have heard too many rumours about an engagement between you and the Bai Zhan Peak Lord that need to be put to rest, already.”

“Maybe I’m really engaged to him,” Shen Jiu sulks loudly. “Maybe you were too late!”

“Then I will be happy to be a homewrecker, and break up that engagement of yours,” Luo Binghe grins. He slowly, and very steadily, lowers his head to Shen Jiu’s face, inch by inch, with every word—threat—that he speaks. “Maybe I’ll kidnap you right from your room, and whisk you away.”

“Cang Qiong will wage war,” Shen Jiu cautions him, not noticing how close the demon has been getting to him, at this point.

And when he does, it’s already too late.

“Let them try,” Luo Binghe whispers out, his eyes flickering right down, as his mouth hovers just above Shen Jiu’s lips.

At this point, their lips are already about to touch.

And before he can even protest, Luo Binghe is kissing him. The man’s large hand is already so conveniently positioned at the back of Shen Jiu’s neck, gently angling him into the kiss as Luo Binghe captures his lips whole.

He is soft. He is tender. He is more than pleasant.

And their first kiss is just a mere peck, leaving Shen Jiu already panting—and wildly blushing—as Luo Binghe pulls away, just to gauge his young shizun’s reaction.

(Luo Binghe is very smug at what he sees. Truly the virginal maiden he’d left his young shizun as…)

“Tomorrow,” Luo Binghe whispers against his lips. “Tomorrow, I will come to claim you as my bride. And then there will be more,” the demon kisses the side of Shen Jiu’s mouth. “Of this.”

Shen Jiu can’t get the words out fast enough. “Tomorrow—may not be the best day—”

But it seems Luo Binghe does not hear such a thing, for in the next moment, Shen Jiu is plunged out of his dream, gasping for air as he awakens right against his bed in his room on Qing Jing Peak.

Oh no.

“A-Jiu,” Liu Feng’s eyes brighten in amazement, as he takes in Shen Jiu’s elaborate get-up for the ceremony for the first—ever—time, watching the Qing Jing Peak Lord stroll down the long aisle of the hall. “You look beautiful.”

Shen Jiu raises his gaze up to Liu Feng right then, and sighs deeply from behind his favourite fan, the same one that he has been holding close to his heart since he was a young boy. Last night’s dream had been beyond enlightening; and now that he is armed with memories of a life that he doesn’t own, Shen Jiu finds himself viewing everything he once knew… from an entirely different perspective.

So, it was you? Shen Jiu thinks, despite being unable to muster up even an ounce of contempt in his heart for the other man. It was you that drove Bing-gege from me?

Such a thing should spur much bitterness within him, really, and drive him to take up arms with Liu Feng in despair. He’d spent half of life mourning for what could have been; mourning for every single bit of the forever home he’d had with Bing-gege back on that small farm they used to own.

But how could he ever hold this against Liu Feng? He’d grown up with the boy, he knows Liu Feng does not have it in him to be cruel. He does not seek to harm others; on the contrary, he has done everything within his power, wherever possible, to ensure the safety and security and happiness of Shen Jiu, who he’d made his life mission to protect.

Based on what he’d seen last night, it wasn’t difficult to understand why Liu Feng had been driven to do what he did, to make the threats that he had; simply just to make sure Luo Binghe would not be able to enact the same harm onto Shen Jiu that he had in their previous lives. How was he to know Luo Binghe was a changed man? How was he to even believe that when he’d always known otherwise? Bai Zhan Peak Lord Liu Qingge, the infamous God of War—he was such an earnest and pure soul, always so devout to the causes he was fighting for. Devout to his one and only Shen Qingqiu.

And so Shen Jiu, so much sweeter and forgiving in this lifetime, so much more honest and candid with his feelings with the people he loves, a fox spirit that finds it impossible to sleep unless he’s curled up against the body warmth of another man, of Liu Feng, all those nights Bing-gege was away—he still lowers the fan anyway, and tells him with much softness in his eyes,

“You don’t look so bad yourself, A-Feng.”

Shen Jiu had woken up rather early this morning to get himself ready for today’s big occasion, after all. With the help of his favourite brothel jiejies, they’d danced about him as they added a little dash of rouge here, a little dash of rouge there, painting his cheeks with rosy blush and his lips with the most enticing shade of scarlet red. They’d done his hair up, too, in an elaborate braided bun pinned tight with flower hairpins at the back of his head. It’d gone well with the tailored robes he’d be adorning today, threaded with celestial gold; of which he’d left just one white fluffy tail peeking out from underneath his dress. He was a proud huli jing, through and through.

“Ah,” Liu Feng says, scratching at the back of his neck at the compliment. Then, as his eyes glance down to the floor, he shyly gets out, “A-Jiu, after the ceremony, I was hoping I could talk to you about something…”

Shen Jiu purses his lip, decides it’s time to get this confrontation done and over with, and nods. “I have something to speak to you about as well…”

“Ha!” Mu Qingfang exclaims, just as he walks in on such a scene. “I told you I was going to win that bet.”

“Nothing’s set in stone, yet,” Qi Qingqi, who’d sauntered in with him, sneers. “And stop standing around like a couple of fools, everyone. Didn’t Yue zhangmen-shixiong tell us to get into position before they open the doors to everyone else?”

Yue zhangmen-shixiong did, indeed, ask that of them.

The Head Disciples quickly take their place, just as Yue Qingyuan makes his appearance.

The ceremonial hall opens up for the audience to soon flood in, filled with Cang Qiong Mountain disciples, esteemed cultivators of neighbouring sects, and the family members of the Peak Lords-to-be. Liu-furen energetically leaps out of the crowd and waves to Shen Jiu, blatantly ignoring her son. Liu Feng doesn’t even fault her for it. Shen Jiu catches the approving eye of Liu Mingyan, too, who although is now grown and half-veiled, still remains the adorable young meimei he always remembers her to be. She seems to have taken with her a little notebook of her own, constantly looking back up at Shen Jiu at various intervals and then furiously writing back down into her book again, as if trying to immortalise Shen Jiu’s look for the day through her... writings? Shen Jiu can never understand what that girl is up to, or what goes on in that head of hers.

“A-Jiu,” Liu Feng’s one hand lightly grasps at the fox spirit’s waist, diverting his attention right back to the front. “The ceremony is starting.”

And so it begins.

Shen Jiu stands amongst his fellow Head Disciples, maintaining his upright posture and making sure he is looking his best before a crowd of thousands. He watches on as Mu Qingfang is crowned first, the man stepping up to allow the old Qian Cao Peak Lord to exchange his hair guan with his. As the hair guan is inserted into his hair, it is announced to the public that the new Qian Cao Peak Lord, from this day forth, is Mu Qingfang.

And on and on it goes, until it finally reaches Liu Qingge, Qi Qingqi, Shang Qinghua, and finally—Shen Qingqiu.

With bated breath, Shen Jiu takes a step forward when it is his turn, and watches with much anticipation as his shizun takes a similar step towards him.

“I’m once again so proud of you, Shen Qingqiu,” his shizun says, smiling at him. He pulls the hair guan off his own head, loosening it from his tightly knotted top-bun, then bestows it upon the young fox spirit, making a move to slip it onto Shen Jiu’s head.

It’s right then that the doors to the hall fling violently wide open with a loud ruckus, even though they’d been so properly sealed before, giving way to a large entourage of demons, Shen Jiu registers with wide eyes, as if escorting someone so very important.

Oh, no.

The aggressive horde of demons hold blood-red flags with black scrawny inscriptions painted onto them, meant to announce and indicate the very status of the great leader that leads them. The large knives and flashy silver weapons that they hold upright in their hands—it’s all so extravagant and flashy, like it’s all just a vulgar display of power. And standing right in the midst of them, not to be missed, of fucking course, is Luo Binghe, the newly crowned ruler of the demon realm. Looking just as annoyingly handsome and smug as the man he’d seen last night in his dreams.

It’s his Bing-gege, alright.

I already told him it wasn’t the occasion for such a thing! Shen Jiu thinks, already annoyed.

“Stay back,” Yue Qingyuan is the first to step up, blocking Shen Jiu from sight and shielding the fox spirit from any possible harm. He casts his eyes to Liu Feng’s direction, and immediately instructs him, “Take Xiao Jiu away to a safe place, now.”

“Understood,” Liu Feng nods, racing to Shen Jiu’s side. He grabs hold of Shen Jiu’s arm, and begins to lead him away. “A-Jiu, stay close to my side.”

The rest of the newly crowned Peak Lords join Yue Qingyuan in a spontaneously formed barricade, creating a clear separation between Shen Jiu and the rest of the hall. Their message is clear: if you want Shen Qingqiu, you’ll have to get through us, first.

Shen Jiu would be moved by such a scene if he wasn’t already so personally acquainted with his Bing-gege, and knew that the Heavenly Demon could barely harm a strand of hair on his head.

“You are not welcome here,” Yue Qingyuan snarls to the intruder, a pitch more aggressive than usual. “Luo Binghe! Go back to the demon realm where you belong!”

“We will not let you have him again,” Qi Qingqi barks out, herself. “This time, we’ll protect him to our deaths!”

“G-Go back home, s-scum!” Shang Qinghua joins in, screaming, just incase anyone looks too closely at him.

Maniacal laughter echoes throughout the hall, coming right from Luo Binghe’s cockily smiling lips. Like these fools could ever do anything to him, once he had Xin Mo in his hand.

“Why the hostility?” Luo Binghe asks, raising both his hands in mock surrender, striding in.

The Peak Lords instantly draw out their swords, raising them against the demon.

“I said, leave,” Yue Qingyuan warns.

“A-Jiu,” Liu Feng continues tugging at a Shen Jiu whose feet remains rooted to the ground, refusing to go. “We need to go. Now.”

“A-Feng, he’s not going to hurt me,” Shen Jiu murmurs to him, shaking his head. “He never was.”

Liu Feng’s grip on his arm hardens. “You don’t know what he’s capable of, or what he has even done to you—”

“A-Feng,” Shen Jiu clasps a hand over his. “I know.”

Liu Feng’s eyes squint, like he’s still so sure Shen Jiu doesn’t understand what he’s talking about. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes,” Shen Jiu says, pushing his hands away. “I do.”

But then Luo Binghe is speaking again, pulling their attention back to the front. Dressed in such grand and noble robes, as befitting of the all-powerful ruler of the demon realm, he’s clearly the main center of attention in the room. And even though he’s only been here for less than a minute, already a couple of female cultivators in the hall are blushing and averting their gaze—each time they accidentally catch Luo Binghe’s eye.

Shen Jiu tries not to twitch. Too much.

“I am here for Shen Qingqiu’s hand in marriage,” Luo Binghe says, extending a hand out into Shen Jiu’s direction. “As I promised to him, many years go.”

And suddenly the fox spirit is not flinching that much anymore, his two eyes pulling apart in—thinly veiled smugness—and yet, also horror. Although he appreciates the sentiment behind such a proposal, this really wasn’t the right time to be insisting on his hand in marriage!

For Heaven’s sake, Luo Binghe!

Liu Feng doesn’t take this public proposal lying down, in front of the rest of the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. He has his pride, too, and everyone here—everyone here knows Liu Feng has long laid his claim over Shen Qingqiu, all these years! He growls out unhappily in response, “There was no such promise! I grew up with Shen Qingqiu! I would know!”

“No, I raised Shen Qingqiu,” Luo Binghe corrects, with a scornful taunt. “You simply ripped him away from me, the first chance you got.”

“You promised never to come back,” Liu Feng snarls, stepping forward with Cheng Luan. If Shen Jiu refuses to leave with him, and Luo Binghe refuses to retreat, then there’s nothing left to do but be prepared for the inevitable war. “Do you really want to do this, in front of him? Do you really want me to tell Qingqiu about the atrocities you’ve committed against him?”

Even Yue Qingyuan jolts at such a threat, and hastily turns his head back to Liu Feng, gesturing him not to. “Liu-shidi, don’t. It’s not worth it. Xiao Jiu wouldn’t be able to take it…”

Alright, that’s it.

Shen Jiu has just had it up to here with these Peak Lords, these obnoxious men, acting all high and mighty and always trying to make decisions for him, without ever consulting the very subject they so badly wish to protect. So what if Shen Jiu didn’t carry with him the same memories that they all had from the past? And so what if that made Shen Jiu just that tad bit different from them? Shen Jiu’s not made delicate, because of it. Shen Jiu’s not a porcelain vase, or something so fragile that he’ll shatter the minute he learns of the truth behind—well, everything else.

Because it was Bing-gege and Liu Feng’s very first altercation, where they sought to make decisions for him, that had resulted in him losing Bing-gege in the first place. If they’d just spoken to him—if they’d just been honest of their intentions, he’d have been spared of so much misery and grief. He’d still have his Bing-gege. He’d still have had his perfect everything.

And Shen Jiu’s so, so tired of everyone assuming they know what’s best for him.

Because what about the things that Shen Jiu actually wants? Had anyone ever thought to ask him about it?

Fuelled by this newfound rage, Shen Jiu quickly moves forth, pushing past Liu Feng and even stepping one foot in front of Yue Qingyuan. In one determined—but still very graceful—move, Shen Jiu snaps open his fan, and flutters it against his neck. His dark, foxy eyes taper into slits, as he stares down the row of the Peak Lords that refuse to stop staring at him with such damning ounces of sympathy and regret.

“All of you, step down!” Shen Jiu barks, with such fierceness that every single one of the newly crowned Peak Lords instantly flinch and lower their swords. “Is this behaviour truly becoming of us esteemed Peak Lords? Do you truly want our first day as Peak Lords to be marred by such bloodshed and battle?”

“Xiao Jiu, the demons have come to us for war,” Yue Qingyuan grits his teeth, saying. He gives one accusatory look to Luo Binghe standing in the far distance, before returning his attention to Shen Jiu. “Of course we can’t take this lying down. How can we allow them to come and go as they please, and take whatever they say they want to take?”

“Luo Binghe isn’t here for war,” Shen Jiu’s voice comes down on him hard, eliciting another visible wince from the new Sect Master. “You heard him yourself. He’s here for my hand in marriage.”

And he still has his back turned to Luo Binghe at this point, but he’s almost positively certain the filthy Heavenly Demon standing at the door is grinning to the highest Heavens at his words.

“And to us, that is war!” Yue Qingyuan insists, even more incensed this time that Shen Jiu seems to be perfectly fine with it. “How can we allow him to just take you away? Xiao Jiu, I know you do not remember matters of the past, but…”

“If you truly care for me, then you will take my word for it,” Shen Jiu snaps. “Luo Binghe hasn’t come here to hurt anybody. Much less me. While they haven’t been invited, they’re already here. I would ask Yue zhangmen-shixiong to show our guests some leniency, and stand down from battle.”

Oh, that damned beast. Shen Jiu can hear his chuckle from behind, all the way here.

“Xiao Jiu…” Yue Qingyuan utters out, with a trembling lower lip. It’s clear who has gained the upper-hand of this argument, and it’s not him. Dealing with his Qi-ge has always been easy enough; the man in his memories always seemed to give in the minute Shen Jiu showed his temper.

Now that Yue Qingyuan’s been more or less subdued, Shen Jiu decides to focus his attention back onto the intruder of the evening. He spins around and snaps his fan close, pointing it irritatedly at the offending demon. “You!”

Luo Binghe stands right away at attention, with the added effect of two—imaginary!—puppy ears perking up from behind his head as he returns his call with a rather respectful, “Shizun!”

“What’s the matter with you?” Shen Jiu reprimands in a voice so unlike himself, the way an aggrieved, older shizun would to a hopeless, much younger disciple. “Do you not see that we’re in the middle of something important here? Do you not think it is poor manners to simply barge in on our once-in-a-lifetime Cang Qiong Mountain Sect’s succession ceremony? I was just about to be crowned the new Peak Lord of Qing Jing Peak! Luo Binghe, couldn’t you have chosen a better time to pay us a visit?! This was supposed to be the greatest day of my life!”

Luo Binghe purses his full lips into a huge pout, having never liked being scolded by his shizun. “I didn’t mean—shizun, that really wasn’t my intention—this disciple would never do anything to put such an important day of yours in jeopardy—I will do everything in my power to make sure it goes smoothly—!”

Shen Jiu raises his two fingers to his forehead, and rubs circles against his throbbing temples. “Everyone, if you even have it in your heart to care about me, then you’ll allow this ceremony to continue at once. For the Peak Lords, please return to your designated places. For the newly arrived demons, please take a seat wherever appropriate. No fighting will be allowed! If there’s a single blood shed today, I, Shen Qingqiu, the incoming Qing Jing Peak Lord, will be heavily displeased. And I trust no one wants that of this day. Any objections?”

The hall is completely cricket silent, with the majority of the audience in sheer awe at the power Shen Jiu holds over Cang Qiong Mountain Sect.

“Good. Places, everyone!”

And then everybody scrambles.

Shen Jiu steps back into position, where he’d originally been standing before his own shizun before he’d been so rudely interrupted; and watches with smug satisfaction as the succession ceremony resumes back to where it was before, with the old Qing Jing Peak Lord still holding his beautiful jade guan in his hand.

“Shizun, I am ready to be Peak Lord,” Shen Jiu says, bending his head forth to receive the guan.

His shizun laughs, and slips it onto his hair, pinning it nicely down with a long hair stick. “Shen Qingqiu,” his shizun murmurs to him, cradling the side of his disciple’s face with a firm look of admiration. “No one deserves this more than you.”

When Shen Jiu raises his gaze back up, this time as the official Qing Jing Peak Lord, he feels the warmth of a thousand smiles on him—from the peak lords, his disciples, the Liu family, and his very own Bing-gege—and thinks rather bittersweetly, I hope I’ve done you proud, my old self. I hope this was all you always wanted, and more.

(And it is.)

There are no celebratory dinners to be had for Shen Jiu. The minute the succession ceremony is over, Luo Binghe is storming right across the hall towards his shizun, immediately earning himself heated glares from the rest of the Peak Lords, some of them—Liu Feng—even raising their swords once more; leaving Shen Jiu with no choice but to grab at the Heavenly Demon’s arm and pull him right out of the room, stalking on right back to the privacy of his room on Qing Jing Peak.

No one made a move to stop Shen Jiu; no one wanted to incur his wrath that way. And Luo Binghe, that absolute beast, he happily went along with Shen Jiu, following after him like a lovesick puppy that hasn’t seen their puppy in years. Which, well, was not so far off from the actual truth.

Shen Jiu’s grasp on Luo Binghe is tight, and in the midst of his anger his sharp claws had even come out, painfully digging into Luo Binghe’s arm. But Luo Binghe doesn’t make so much as a sound; he’s gleeful, even, at the amount of emotion he sees emanating from his shizun. Shen Jiu doesn’t relent in his vice grip until he has the both of them safely boarded up into his room, locking his front door tightly so that no one—no Liu Feng, no Yue Qingyuan, not even Liu-furen herself—can come barging in on them.

They have much to talk about, after all.

But the second Shen Jiu’s hand is off the fastened latch, and he’s turning around to finally have an actual conversation with Luo Binghe, face-to-face, the demon is unceremoniously slamming the fox spirit back against the wooden door, two large hands pinning the much smaller creature in his grasp down, leaving Shen Jiu with no escape from the older, taller, and much stronger demon staring him down like he’s just a piece of meat.

And it suddenly feels like he’s just a child, again.

“Bing-gege?” Shen Jiu asks, with two wide eyes.

Luo Binghe doesn’t even speak. He dips his head right down, his dark eyes dropping their gaze down to stare hungrily at Shen Jiu’s rouge red lips, hardly giving Shen Jiu a moment to reconcile what is even happening before he pushes himself forward and claims Shen Jiu’s mouth for his own, swallowing him into their—first, ever—physical, real, kiss.

Shen Jiu’s weak-kneed instantly, his breaths being so rudely stolen from him before he has even kindly permitted it. He claws at the door behind him in fervid anticipation as Luo Binghe gradually deepens the kiss, tongue sliding into Shen Jiu’s hot mouth and delicately easing the fox spirit into opening up for him. Shen Jiu’s attempts at reciprocation must seem clumsy, and awful, even; but Luo Binghe takes it all in great stride, guiding the fox spirit into matching his pace, and savouring a hell lot of Shen Jiu’s mouth at the same time. But as expert of a kisser as Luo Binghe might be, the demon’s own nervousness is plain to see; he’s inhaling in shakily with every soft kiss exchanged, every careful twirl of their tongues, his two arms almost trembling at how good, how pliant, how soft his shizun feels in his arms.

All the pain, all the torment, everything he’d ever suffered in the past seven years or so—it’d all been leading up to this very moment. Luo Binghe had told himself it’d be worth it—and it is. It is. There can be nothing more magical than finally embracing Shen Jiu and hearing the way he’d break in Luo Binghe’s hold, all whiny and whimpering and cheeks flushing even redder than the rouge on his lips. This is what Luo Binghe always wanted. This is what Luo Binghe has always dreamed of.

It takes Shen Jiu a while to regain his senses—his Bing-gege was so intoxicating, that way—but when he does, when he does, he allows Luo Binghe to sneak a few more kisses before Shen Jiu is pushing him away, gasping and panting and fighting for breath.

“We need to talk,” Shen Jiu chokes out, with bruised red lips that have almost been chewed bare.

Luo Binghe gazes over such a titillating sight, and promptly decides, “No, we don’t,” as he lowers his head to brush his lips against Shen Jiu’s ones again.

Shen Jiu jerks away, knowing he’ll give in the minute that wretched tongue slips in again. “Yes, we do.”

“Shizun—”

“Don’t call me that!” Shen Jiu frowns, with a sore hiss. “I’m not your shizun in this life. You know that.”

“Yes, but you’ll always…” Luo Binghe sees that Shen Jiu is being extremely serious with his displeasure, and he sighs, nodding away. He can’t ever deny his shizun anything. “I understand.”

“I know we used to be master and disciple,” Shen Jiu says, angrily wiping at the saliva on his lips. Luo Binghe sulks hard at the sight, knowing he’s the one responsible for the liquids on those lips. “But my feelings for you aren’t such that I ever viewed you as my disciple. And it’s—it’s strange. I don’t want you to hold such affection for me just because you’re viewing the shadow of what your shizun used to be. I know I’m him, but I’m also—not him. And I don’t want you to love me for a person I no longer am. So if that’s who you love…”

“A-Jiu, you misunderstand me,” Luo Binghe hurriedly tells him, two hands cupping at the fox spirit’s small, pretty face. “I know you’re no longer my shizun, but I still respect you too much to do away with the title, completely. But the one I’m in love with—it’s the you now, it’s the pretty little fox I picked up on the streets, it’s the A-Jiu who tails me everywhere and calls for his Bing-gege, first thing, whenever he gets hurt. I left for the endless abyss for you, not my shizun.”

Shen Jiu outwardly pouts. His eyes flicker to the side as he shamefully confesses, “I just want you as my Bing-gege, and nothing else.”

“Then that’s who I am,” Luo Binghe immediately declares. “I’m Bing-gege, I’m the boy you met on the streets. I’m the Bing-gege you promised to spend forever with. A-Jiu, you don’t have to look at me in any way else you’re not uncomfortable with. We’re different people now, in this life of ours. And that’s perfectly alright. Because I got to know my A-Jiu in ways I couldn’t, before. And you—you know me, better than anyone ever has.”

Shen Jiu bites at his lip, blinking back up to the older man. “I know we’ve both done bad things in the past,” his voice is soft, scared, almost, “But is it truly so bad to pretend that we didn’t? That it doesn’t matter, that all of it doesn’t matter, in this new life? Bing-gege, it’s not that I want to pretend, it’s just that I can hardly even remember…” And it’s ridiculous, it’s truly ridiculous to Shen Jiu that he is expected to feel the same way he used to feel, or act the same way he used to act, as the man he sees in his memories—because that life was never one that he lived, and that Shen Qingqiu that he saw never even breathed the same air that he breathed.

Luo Binghe couldn’t have heard anything sweeter. “You don’t need to remember,” he rushes to say, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t. A-Jiu, I feared for so long and for so hard, that if you ever remembered the things I did to you, you would spurn me. And perhaps I would deserve it, but I—I can’t bear it. I can’t bear such a thing. If I’d only known that your love was unconditional, that you wouldn’t even have minded…” I wouldn’t even have left.

Shen Jiu sighs and nods, knowing he is without the energy to rehash last night’s arguments again. He lightly prods at Luo Binghe’s chest, and leads him away from the door. “Come on, let’s take a seat. I’ll pour us some tea.”

Luo Binghe follows after him, watching as the Qing Jing Peak Lord hurries about his room to grab his teapot and some tea leaves. “A-Jiu, let me do it.”

“No, you’re not my disciple, and you’re a guest,” Shen Jiu says. He gestures for Luo Binghe to settle on a cushion before his table, and then later kneels down onto a cushion himself, when the tea is ready.

As Luo Binghe helpfully thrusts a cup out onto the table, Shen Jiu holds his wrist up high in a poised, delicate stance, and begins pouring tea for him. Except—perhaps the fox spirit is too disoriented from the occasion, or too nervous from being in Bing-gege’s presence once more—that his hand wobbles a tad bit, leading the hot tea to spill all over Luo Binghe’s hand.

Shen Jiu’s eyes are big when he notices what he has done, even if Luo Binghe does not so much as make a whimper. He hastily pulls out a handkerchief from his sleeves, and dabs away at Luo Binghe’s scalded hand, apologising profusely, “I’m sorry, I was distracted. Let me know if it hurts…”

“It’s alright, it doesn’t hurt,” Luo Binghe says. As Shen Jiu lifts his eyes back up to him, he sees Luo Binghe even—foolishly smiling, at having gotten scalded by his shizun?! “It’s not your fault. Shizun—A-Jiu is notoriously clumsy, with the tea.”

Shen Jiu’s brows squeeze together at what he hears, unsure if he should be disturbed or confused. “I am not usually this careless.”

“It is my honour to be scalded by A-Jiu’s tea,” Luo Binghe grins. “It doesn’t hurt, not when I now know it’s just an act of love.”

Shen Jiu sighs in exasperation, not even bothering to clarify what his Bing-gege means this time. Even when armed with memories of the past, Shen Jiu still finds it hard to understand the kind of filth his Bing-gege continues to harbour in his head…

Setting the teapot back down onto the table, he curls up against the cushion, sitting cross-legged before the Heavenly Demon.

“We have much to talk about,” Shen Jiu starts, even if he’s finding that he—really doesn’t have that much to ask, after all. “I’m sure you have a lot of things to tell me.”

Luo Binghe casts a look upon his face, his eyes devout and full of love. “Truth be told, I do have a lot to tell you. I have seven years worth of things saved up, just to tell you. I know you always loved hearing my stories so. I was even reciting all the things I’d say to you, once I finally laid eyes on you again, on my way here. But, now that I’m finally here, looking at you, I…” Luo Binghe’s words trail, his gaze growing more and more hesitant. “I can’t remember a single thing I wanted to say.”

Shen Jiu believes him. Those besotted eyes of Luo Binghe’s, they refuse to ever tear away. They drift from Shen Jiu’s eyes, down to his nose, to his chewed-out lips, to his chin, before darting back up to his eyes, restarting the entire process all over again. It’s as if Luo Binghe’s desperately memorising every fine detail on Shen Jiu’s face, afraid of the moment he’ll be torn away from the fox spirit again.

Shen Jiu… Shen Jiu knows he is loved here, on Cang Qiong Mountain. He is loved by Liu Feng, Yue Qingyuan, Shang Qinghua, Qi Qingqi and Mu Qingfang.

But no one will ever quite love him the way Luo Binghe loves him.

“Alright, then,” Shen Jiu says, averting his gaze. The way Luo Binghe stares at him—it can get pretty intense. It’s not that he doesn’t like it; oh, the fox spirit enjoys the attention of his paramour very much. But Shen Jiu’s still too embarrassed to face it, head-on. “I suppose I do have a few questions of my own.”

“Ask away,” Luo Binghe sits up straight. “You know I’ll tell you anything.”

Shen Jiu fingers the empty teacup right before him, and then pretends he doesn’t even care about the matter at hand, as he asks, “Have you ever taken on a lover?”

Luo Binghe actually pauses, at this one. “What?”

“Mistresses, wives, whatever,” Shen Jiu mumbles, lowering his head even further so Luo Binghe won’t see the embarrassment on his face. “I just want to know, if perhaps, there was a harem to be concerned with, just like the one I saw in my old memories…”

“No,” Luo Binghe immediately clears up, eager to let Shen Jiu know of his faithfulness and loyalty to him in this life. “No, there is no wife, no mistress, no woman. Ever. Not a single one. No one for me, unless it’s A-Jiu.”

Shen Jiu looks back up to him, with curious eyes. “But you mentioned you were in possession of Xin Mo. And if I remember correctly…”

“It is a problem, yes,” Luo Binghe acknowledges, not wanting to lie to the fox spirit. “Which is why I do not wield it much. And the few times I’ve wielded it, I’ve sought out alternative ways to deal with it. There is medicine, herbs, even meditation, to help with unbalanced qi. Dual cultivation is not a must, it is simply the easiest.”

Shen Jiu feels a huge sense of weight being removed from his shoulders. “So you haven’t… Ever since...”

Luo Binghe catches on quickly, and he asserts, “You’re the only person I’ve ever kissed in this lifetime.”

Shen Jiu’s little maiden heart skips in elation. “I see…”

“I was saving myself,” Luo Binghe admits aloud, so earnestly. “For A-Jiu.”

The Qing Jing Peak Lord’s face grows hot, and he so fiercely points out, “I don’t think you can consider yourself a virgin!”

“Why not?” Luo Binghe asks. “This body of mine hasn’t ever touched another. Does that not count?”

That’s enough to stump Shen Jiu, and reduce him to silence. Luo Binghe’s right. He’d lived out a full life, and had yet to bed anyone in this lifetime. Why shouldn’t it not count? Especially when one factors Xin Mo in, which means that Luo Binghe has had to endure twice the temptation, and pain.

“For someone who had been so used to dual cultivating to solve all your problems before, you sure seem all fine and dandy,” Shen Jiu mumbles on.

Luo Binghe laughs then and there—he laughs, so despairingly, like Shen Jiu doesn’t even know the tip of it. “A-Jiu, I know I look well on the surface, but trust me, this body is crumbling on the inside.”

“Crumbling?” Shen Jiu blinks.

“My resolve,” Luo Binghe clarifies, barely concealing his grin. “It’s taking everything in me not to do the worst—utterly despicable, downright deplorable things—to A-Jiu right now.”

Shen Jiu huffs out, all appalled. “Bing-gege!”

“I am only restraining myself, because I respect A-Jiu so much, and I want to do away with all of A-Jiu’s concerns,” Luo Binghe nods away to himself. “But the minute this discussion is over, I cannot personally guarantee A-Jiu’s safety.”

Shen Jiu’s now crimson red. “Next question!”

“Mm.”

“You said in passing that you’ve conquered the demon realm,” Shen Jiu deliberates. “Does that mean you are now emperor of the realm?”

“Mm.”

“Then, do you know who the previous ruler of the realm was? Did you meet him?”

“Mm.”

“Did you…” and Shen Jiu’s stomach is churning at this one. “Did you kill him?”

Luo Binghe blinks, unsure why he is being posed such an odd and bizarre question. “Why is A-Jiu concerned about that? About him?” And then a certain possibility sinks in, and he’s quickly cracking his knuckles, his tone plunging into a low and enraged tone, as if gearing for battle, “Did A-Jiu know him?”

Suddenly Shen Jiu’s not too sure if he should divulge his history with Tianlang-jun. Deciding that he is not a huli jing for nothing, he flutters those long lashes of his right up in a sultry half-lidded stare, lets out the most soothing of pheromones in order to coax the demon, and asks in such a soft and coy voice, “Bing-gege, this is very important to me.”

Already he can see Luo Binghe begin to lower his guard, the moment his sweet floral scent wafts up into his nostrils. “Are you asking for a friend?”

“Perhaps,” Shen Jiu says, unwavering in his stance.

Luo Binghe frowns, but ultimately answers, “No, I did not kill him. I simply exiled him.”

Shen Jiu could not be more grateful to hear such words. “Exiled?”

“I imprisoned him underneath a mountain, somewhere in the human realm,” Luo Binghe says. “I wanted to be merciful, but I couldn’t do anything less. He was determined to take the realm back from me. He kept muttering on and on about wanting to give only the best to the person he loved, which I’m guessing is why he was so adamant on remaining the emperor.”

Shen Jiu’s breaths are hurried, as he speaks. “So, you spared him, in the end?”

Ah, thank the Heavens, Shen Jiu thinks. He did not meet his end because of me…

“I had to,” Luo Binghe says, his face downcast. “At the end of the day, he was still my father.”

...Oh, no.

“Tianlang-jun is your… father?” Shen Jiu asks, his very tone strangled at this new revelation. Truly, like father, like son. What exactly had Shen Jiu gotten himself into? Wouldn’t Bing-gege absolutely lose it should he catch wind of his father’s affections for him? “Isn’t he unmarried?”

“In this lifetime, yes,” Luo Binghe says, though he’s already twitching slightly at how Shen Jiu appears to know so much about the man. “He has yet to meet my mother. However, I doubt much has been lost. It’d be too risky to have them bear a younger version of me in this life. As far as I know, my parents were also unable to live good lives after having me. So, it’s really for the better…”

At least Luo Binghe was merciful enough to keep him alive. But, ah, the knowledge that he is trapped underneath a mountain doesn’t make it all that much better; not when Shen Jiu knew just how badly the man valued freedom, what with the avid way in which he explored this world.

“Bing-gege,” Shen Jiu calls out quietly, with much hesitance. “Can we… can we revisit this, in the future?”

Luo Binghe cocks an eyebrow up. “What is A-Jiu asking?”

“To imprison your father is too cruel,” Shen Jiu laments, trying to pass it off as simple, casual commentary. “Surely there can be a better way to go about this? If, say, we go to him again, and negotiate for him never to step foot in the demon realm ever again? And if he agrees, then we’ll set him free?”

Luo Binghe’s forehead bears deep creases, increasingly perplexed by such a thought. “‘We’? A-Jiu, this matter between my father and I doesn’t concern you.”

“I know,” Shen Jiu says quickly, pursing his lips together, wondering however he should spin this. “But I feel for the man. Isn’t he your father, like you said? Haven’t you always wanted a complete family? Now that you have the chance, don’t you think it’s time to make amends?”

Luo Binghe’s frown deepens. “But I don’t need him. I already have you.”

Shen Jiu stills, not completely sure he wants to ascertain what that truly means. “But a father is different…”

“He never raised me,” Luo Binghe says. “I know the circumstances were out of his control, but it doesn’t matter. He may be my father in name, but I feel nothing for the man. I spared his life out of the little blood inside of me that links me with him. That is the extent of my mercy. I’m sure he’s a good man, I’ve never thought of him otherwise. But I don’t seek a connection with him.”

The Qing Jing Peak Lord is on the verge of giving up. He tries one last time, seeing no other avenue he can make use of to utter such a plea, and implores him so, “Then, will you spare your father for me?”

The Heavenly Demon goes silent, contemplative. “Is it really that important to you that I show my father some kindness?”

Shen Jiu hurries to nod, this time willing tears up to the surface as he speaks, leaving his beautifully made up eyes watery and glistening, a completely dazzling sight, “Bing-gege, haven’t we always wanted a complete family?”

Of course Luo Binghe’s heart melts into a puddle when he sees his A-Jiu like this. Of course it does. As if Luo Binghe could ever deny his one and only shizun anything.

And, just to seal the deal—

“When we get married,” Shen Jiu tells him, reaching a hand out to clasp it over the one Luo Binghe has on the table. “He should be there. Celebrating with us.”

The promise of marriage, their union, excites Luo Binghe like no other. Shen Jiu had never formally accepted his proposal back at the hall, after all, and to hear that Shen Jiu has not only considered it—but also agreed for it to happen—sends Luo Binghe into a complete frenzy.

The demon is eagerly nodding away, as if Shen Jiu’s entire proposition now makes sense.

“There should be a father at our wedding,” Luo Binghe agrees, unable to believe he hadn’t thought about such a thing earlier. “He should be there.”

“I don’t have parents,” Shen Jiu says, rather woefully, curling his fox ears on purpose. “So he’s all we have.”

“A-Jiu, your heart is so pure,” Luo Binghe squeezes back at Shen Jiu’s hand, locking their fingers together. “You’re still thinking of others, even for such a personal occasion like a wedding.”

Shen Jiu thinks back on the very last time he saw Tianlang-jun’s grief-stricken face, feels his heart begin to hollow out, and decides this is his way of showing his gratitude to the man. It’s for all of the lessons he’s given him; his generous mentorship, his helpful guidance. The next time he sees Tianlang-jun, he hopes the demon has already given up on every notion relating to Shen Jiu. It’s for the best, anyway. For as fondly as Shen Jiu thinks of him—as long as his Bing-gege is here, Shen Jiu’s heart lies with another.

“So,” Luo Binghe smiles back up to him, pulling his focus back to him. “About the wedding.”

Shen Jiu sighs. He knows it’ll be all the demon can think about, the second he uttered out his acceptance. “I’ll have to sort it out with the rest of the Peak Lords.”

“What for?” Luo Binghe frowns, asking. “We’ll hold it back at the palace. A big, grand, lavish one, we’ll make it the wedding of the century. The Peak Lords can,” he emphasises on ‘can’, “be invited, if they promise to be good.”

The fox spirit chews his lips. “They won’t take to the news too kindly. They still think… ah, you already know what they think about you. They didn’t grow up with you in this lifetime, like I did.”

Surprisingly enough, Luo Binghe doesn’t fuss over such a thing. “I understand,” he says, with the wisdom of a man who has lived enough lifetimes to know right from wrong. “I’ll do my best to make peace with them, if that’s what A-Jiu wants. I’ll do everything in my power to make this happen, for us. I’ve worked too hard to let it all go to waste, now.”

Shen Jiu’s heart flutters at the conviction of which he hears. “Luo Binghe, you’ve finally matured.”

The demon laughs, then picks up the small, dainty hand he’s clutching onto, and kisses it so fervently, unwilling to ever let it go. “I’m happy, A-Jiu. I’m so happy. I’m finally back here with you, and you accept me, not deny me; you don’t begrudge me for anything you could have begrudged me for. I have the entire world in the palm of my hand. And if anyone were to fight me for your hand right now, I know I’d win. But I don’t even have to, because I know you’d always come to me willingly. You’d always choose me. So how could I ever complain, or deny anything you ever ask of me? Shen Qingqiu, you’ve given me the world just by being mine.”

The Qing Jing Peak Lord has to blink the tears away, upon hearing such a speech. “I see.”

Luo Binghe is right. They’ve waited far too long to get here, and now that they’re finally back together, Shen Jiu cannot bring himself to begrudge Luo Binghe for anything, at all. Not when Luo Binghe has been everything he has been waiting for.

“A-Jiu,” Luo Binghe calls, one final time. “Have you asked everything that you wanted to ask of me?”

Shen Jiu’s suddenly all too aware of Luo Binghe’s burning gaze on him. He’s all too aware of what comes next. He shies his head away, saying softly, “For now.”

“Good,” Luo Binghe says, already making a move out of his seat. “Then, can I…”

The fox spirit’s ears are curling again, this time against his own will, in complete and utter embarrassment. “Can’t you be normal, for once?’

“No,” Luo Binghe resolutely answers, and this time, he’s already right before Shen Jiu, his two arms enclosing down around Shen Jiu to lift right up into his grasp. The fox spirit is picked up very easily in his hold—just as easy as it was for him to do so, seven years ago. Shen Jiu is yelping animalistically as his two feet huddles up against Luo Binghe’s chest, and his hands wound around Luo Binghe’s neck for much needed support; though he doesn’t make a single noise of protest against the demon doing such a thing. “A-Jiu, you haven’t put on much weight at all.”

“Don’t flatter me, I am an adult now,” Shen Jiu scoffs, hiding his blush by nestling it deep against his Bing-gege’s chest. “Of course I’ve put on some weight.”

“Then, it can only mean I’ve gotten stronger,” Luo Binghe cheekily responds. Shen Jiu snorts through his nose, though his chest is full of warmth. “Look at you, you’ve hardly grown.”

“Not everyone grows as monstrously as you!” Shen Jiu huffs.

The fox spirit is sufficiently distracted until Luo Binghe lays him back down against his bed, making sure to cushion the back of Shen Jiu’s head with a firm and soft pillow, and it’s only then—only then—that Shen Jiu begins to grow nervous, knowing all too well Luo Binghe’s intentions with him. The demon moves with such ease, such confidence, prepping Shen Jiu in a position that is most comfortable; that it’s obvious he’s a seasoned expert with all and any affairs pertaining to the bedroom. Shen Jiu, on the other hand, remains as virginal as a fair maiden, for two lifetimes now. To say he is unprepared for what is to come is an understatement…

…and yet, the part of him that loves and misses Luo Binghe enough to want this to happen is stopping him from shouting out any form of protest, knowing he wants this more than anything in the world. He has wanted this since he was a child; he has loved Luo Binghe longer than he’d even known. He wants this, he wants him.

(It’s the only reason he’d rejected everyone else’s advances all these years, isn’t it? It’s the only reason he’d saved himself, equally, just for his Bing-gege. He’d always been waiting for him to return.)

“Don’t be scared,” Luo Binghe says, caressing Shen Jiu’s cheek, when he notices the apprehension and fear in Shen Jiu’s eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you. If you feel any pain, I’ll stop immediately.”

Shen Jiu’s breathy when he parts his lips open, sounding almost gibberish when he asks, “Bing-gege, what you said about huli jings, is it true? Can we really bear children?”’

Luo Binghe, who has begun disrobing himself at this time, starts to chuckle, caught by surprise by such a question. Was his shizun truly thinking of bearing him children, at this time? “Yes.”

“So, there will be,” Shen Jiu murmurs out, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes. “There is, a chance for that to happen, tonight?”

Still ever so innocent. Luo Binghe thinks with a huge grin. Still the same A-Jiu I know and love. Discarding his outer robes carelessly onto the ground, he leans back over Shen Jiu, climbing zealously over the man in bed.

“Yes,” he answers, sinking his head down into the crook of Shen Jiu’s shoulder. He noses into his neck, smiling against the soft expanse of pale skin there. “Yes, you might get pregnant. Are you scared?”

Shen Jiu stubbornly shakes his head in reply. “No, of course not,” he swallows dryly. “I’m… I’m prepared for it to happen.”

“Prepared?” Luo Binghe teases, lifting his head back up to meet Shen Jiu’s eyes. He’s so beautiful, and even more so up-close, with his long, satin hair fanned out underneath him like that—such that Luo Binghe’s poor heart momentarily stops each time he lays eyes on him. “If a demon lord like me gets you pregnant at the tender age of nineteen, I fear people will say the worst.”

“It’s, it’s the prime age to bear children for maidens,” Shen Jiu informs, as a matter-of-factly. “I’ve read books.”

Oh, his A-Jiu is too cute! “I’m sure you have,” Luo Binghe coos, poking at his cheek. “You were waiting to bear me children, weren’t you?”

Shen Jiu glares up at him, crossed. “Don’t put it like that!”

“How else should I put it?” Luo Binghe teases again, squirming his body without a thought against the huli jing.

That’s when Shen Jiu first feels it, against his knee.

Feels him.

And suddenly Shen Jiu’s not all that confident, anymore.

“What was that?” Shen Jiu chokes out, unable to bear the thought of—the large size of—such a thing, pressing and prodding against him. “B...Bing-gege?”

“Mmm?” Luo Binghe hums, feigning ignorance. “What was what?”

“Bing-gege, why is it,” oh my god, Shen Jiu’s one is definitely not as large, in fact if we’re talking comparisons Shen Jiu’s one can be considered dwarfed by Luo Binghe’s one, really, has Luo Binghe always been this big or did it grow this much in all of the years they were apart, oh god oh god oh god oh god, was it normal for demons to be this big or was it Heavenly Demons or was it just Bing-gege, “Why is it like that?”

Luo Binghe tries to contain his laughter. He’d been expecting an outburst of this sort; he’d met with a fair share of surprise with half of his harem back then, in his previous life. “Like what?”

“Are you,” Shen Jiu’s on the verge of begging for mercy. “Are you already hard?”

“Mm,” Luo Binghe says. “Just half.”

Shen Jiu almost chokes on his spit. “H-half?”

“Yeah,” Luo Binghe smiles to him; a smile so sincere and bright. “Just half.”

Shen Jiu is going to die.

“Ah, okay,” Shen Jiu says, trying to play it off like it means nothing to him. “I see.”

“Is it a problem?” Luo Binghe asks, teasingly.

“No,” Shen Jiu sputters out. “Of course not.”

“If you’re scared,” Luo Binghe sings, knowing just the thing to rile Shen Jiu up. “Maybe we can do something else tonight?”

“No!” Shen Jiu says, disgruntled that Luo Binghe would even assume otherwise. “I’m not scared of anything!”

“Good,” Luo Binghe laughs. “My A-Jiu’s so brave.”

And then he leans over and kisses him, both hands taking firm hold of Shen Jiu’s scarlet cheeks. The fox spirit’s visibly tense in the first few moments, but he surrenders to the demon as quickly as he did before, allowing Luo Binghe’s lips to brush against his, softly, delicately, just long enough for him to taste his breath, just close enough to feel the warmth of his skin, before prying his mouth open with his tongue, slipping into the moist space in between. Luo Binghe kisses him so good, Shen Jiu always sees stars. Uncontrollable low noises leave the back of his throat as Luo Binghe works his mouth against his, leaving the Qing Jing Peak Lord softly mewling every now and then, trying to contain the shivers that run through him whole.

He can’t believe he’s kissing his Bing-gege. His Bing-gege. He likes being close to the man, likes the sharing of one breath, one sensation, likes the man’s hands all up in his hair as they finally come together in a kiss; it’s all of Shen Jiu’s dreams come true. Just this one moment already makes up for all of the time they’ve been apart. Shen Jiu’s never wanted anything else more.

When Luo Binghe draws his mouth away, mindful that the fox spirit might not have the stamina that he has, Shen Jiu’s almost whimpering, his head lifting forward so their lips won’t part, eyes fastening open in a quick plea for Luo Binghe not to go.

The demon lord is smug, when he sees this. “Having fun?”

Shen Jiu would curse the man before him if he didn’t want him, so much. His eyes are briefly distracted by the necklace that has slipped out of Luo Binghe’s robes while he’d been busy kissing him though, a thin red thread looped over his neck with a jade pendant hanging down low against his chest.

Shen Jiu would recognise it anywhere. It was his last birthday gift to Luo Binghe.

Even after all these years, he’d still kept it close to his heart.

The Qing Jing Peak Lord’s eyes shimmer up to Luo Binghe, as he raises his hand to finger the pendant. “You kept it.”

Now that Luo Binghe’s a demon lord, with riches and status to boot, he definitely can afford far better jade to wear. Hell, even Shen Jiu as Qing Jing Peak Lord has acquired much better quality of jade in his possession over the years. The jade that Luo Binghe wears on his neck is definitely inferior; and of the cheap quality that only street urchins could have paid for.

But this was all Shen Jiu could have afforded, back when they were still poor farmers. Back when they still lived very simply, in their hut and on their farm.

This was three months’ worth of full allowance. And it’d been worth every coin he’d saved.

Luo Binghe looks back down on the jade, and smiles softly, nodding. “Just like you kept my fan.”

Right. Shen Jiu had wielded the same bamboo fan all these years—never discarding it in favour of another one, no matter how many nicer ones Liu Feng and Yue Qingyuan bought for him. In the end, they’d given up, and stopped gifting him fans because Shen Jiu never picked up another one besides the one and only fan that his Bing-gege had painted for him.

“I couldn’t remember you by anything else,” Shen Jiu says, eyes flittering down to the side. “It was the only thing I had left of you.”

Luo Binghe understands. “Everytime things got too hard in the abyss,” he says, picking up the jade and pressing it to his lips. “I simply looked at it, and thought of you.”

Shen Jiu’s eyes quiver back up to him, feeling a strange, tightening sensation in his chest. It has him by the chokehold, it threatens to devour him alive and drown him within—should he not express the feelings he has been holding in, the things he has been wanting to say for seven years now. And then the words are bubbling out of him even before he can stop it, the emotion far too much for him to bear,

“I love you.”

Luo Binghe’s eyes, previously so dark and hazy with lust, quickly lighten up with much shock and surprise. And then, a second later—filled with deep tenderness and warmth, for it’s the first time his shizun has ever uttered such a thing in full; it’s the first time his shizun has ever confirmed his affections for him face-to-face.

“I love you more,” Luo Binghe smiles to him, his two eyes crinkling up so happily, his large hand clasping hold of Shen Jiu’s cheek. “I love you most. I don’t deserve you, but I have you. Thank you for giving me a chance to be with you. Thank you for choosing me, when you didn’t have to. I’d always wondered what was missing from my life—and it was you. It was always you. It was always you.”

Shen Jiu’s breathing is ragged, when he leans into Luo Binghe’s touch. “I can’t imagine a universe in which I never chose you.”

Luo Binghe laughs, and tries not to look so pained as he does so. “Well, I can,” he says, leaning his head forth so their foreheads meet. Their noses bump against each other, as Luo Binghe gives him an eskimo’s kiss. “I lived through it.”

Shen Jiu’s smile is tight when he asks, “Was I really that mean?”

“Mm,” Luo Binghe nibbles at the tip of his nose. “You could have been nicer.”

“I’m still not very nice,” Shen Jiu breathes out, staring right up into his eyes.

“But you’re nice to me,” Luo Binghe says. “That’s the difference.”

“Maybe I should be meaner to you,” Shen Jiu responds, half-teasing. “You’re too bold for your own good.”

Luo Binghe laughs in his face then, sending a ticklish wave across his skin, eliciting a small giggle from the Qing Jing Peak Lord.

“I will do my best to change your mind,” Luo Binghe grins, swallowing any subsequent protests of his with another long, impassioned kiss.

Just like that, Shen Jiu forgets what little threats he has made.

(Kisses with his Bing-gege are magical, that way.)

And even more magical is the way Luo Binghe has his head in between Shen Jiu’s legs just a second later, his long ceremonial robes long hiked up to his belly and his two limbs spread wide open to accommodate Luo Binghe’s tongue… in places Shen Jiu had not realised could even be licked, before.

Shen Jiu’s small, pretty pink mouth has fallen wide open in the process, as his hands claw deep into Luo Binghe’s curly head of hair. His nails elongate and extend in the throes of his pleasure, always succumbing to his true nature when he can’t so help it. And yet Luo Binghe remains unbothered by the pain; he is encouraged by it, even, wet tongue flicking in even harder inside of Shen Jiu’s warm crevice, sucking and slurping at the tight muscles that fight him so.

When Shen Jiu begins leaking upon Luo Binghe’s administration, and becoming soaking wet just like an animal in heat; he’s yelping in utter embarrassment, only for Luo Binghe to remove his tongue to calm him down, and kiss up the back of his thighs.

“It happens, when you’re aroused,” Luo Binghe explains, assuring the petrified fox spirit. “It’s slick. It’s meant to make it better for you.”

“It’s a lot,” Shen Jiu whimpers, flabbergasted by such a thing.

“That’s because I’m doing a good job,” Luo Binghe smirks to him.

And then he’s right back at it again, tongue greedily lapping away at every drop of slick that comes running out, having the time of his life swallowing up every bit of his young shizun’s delicious juices. When Shen Jiu tries to snap his two legs back shut, still ashamed of his arousal, the demon lord’s snapping them open once more with his core strength, and holding them there, refusing to ever let Shen Jiu hide himself away from him.

“You’re beautiful,” Luo Binghe murmurs out, just before he dives his tongue back in again. He thrusts his first finger in as well, alongside his tongue, in a bid to prepare the Peak Lord for what is to come, his one finger and tongue both already feeling so full inside of Shen Jiu’s tight hole. His little experiment proves a success. The fox spirit’s slender back is arching off the bed immediately, his toes curling together as he cums for the very first time with a loud gasp, having never been filled like that before.

Luo Binghe’s dick hardens at the very sight. Oh, his shizun, so sensitive and so easy to pleasure…

“That’s only one finger,” Luo Binghe mutters, his very breath caught in his throat. He watches on as Shen Jiu flutters those pretty eyelids back up to gaze at him, the heat already rising in his cheeks with hot flush. Just one finger, and Shen Jiu already looks so beautifully fucked out, like he can’t possibly take anymore. Oh, but he can, and he will. Luo Binghe will make sure of that.

“Your hands are big,” Shen Jiu pouts, still so embarrassed about every single one of his reactions.

“Yes, but I’m bigger,” Luo Binghe hums. “If you’re already like this with one finger, then—” and he slides another digit inside of Shen Jiu, the younger man’s extremely wet entrance hungrily sucking him in, like it already can’t wait for more to come. “Then I can’t wait to see how you’ll be like, with me inside you.”

Shen Jiu’s nails reflexively dig into the silken sheets underneath him, as his white fox ears and tails curl all around him. “M...More,” Shen Jiu moans wantonly, looking like the epitome of the provocative huli jing he’s always meant to be. The sex pheromones that oozes out from him is intense; there is no way any demon or human man could have caught a whiff of it and not ravished the seductive huli jing splayed out in front of them, legs open and ready for such a thing to happen. This entire time, Shen Jiu has hardly felt a single ounce of hurt, huli jing’s bodies were that receptive to sex; made for it, even.

“More?” Luo Binghe teases, slipping his third and fourth finger in. Shen Jiu so wonderfully welcomes them in, writhing just barely as he accommodates the extra tightness easily, moaning out Luo Binghe’s name as he does so. It’s—unbelievable how good it all feels—why couldn’t he have done this sooner—

“You’ve never pleasured yourself,” Luo Binghe deduces, moving his fingers steadily inside of him. “This is all new to you.”

“I t-thought we were saving ourselves,” Shen Jiu utters out, through another strangled moan.

“Well, yes,” Luo Binghe chuckles. “But you best believe I’ve thought a lot about you in my… alone time.”

A thought suddenly strikes Shen Jiu, and he’s narrowing his eyes at Luo Binghe as he asks, “Did you ever…? When I slept next to you…?”

Luo Binghe merely grins. “We’re already getting married, these sorts of things shouldn’t matter.”

“But you—oh!” Those fingers slam inside of him, hitting just the right—tight—walls to invoke pleasure.

Yes, avoid the hard questions by distracting me, Shen Jiu thinks, making a mental note to continue bugging Luo Binghe about it later. Though he already has a pretty good guess what the demon’s depraved answer might be…

Luo Binghe draws all four fingers out, and then in one swift movement—grabs strong hold of Shen Jiu’s slim, milky legs, pulling them towards him and hooking them deftly over his shoulders. Luo Binghe’s remarkably a whole head taller than Shen Jiu and so the poor fox spirit’s elevated mid-air with his ass pressed against the demon lord’s hard, fully erect cock.

Shen Jiu can’t see it, but he can already feel it, brushing against the back of his thigh. And it’s far bigger than how it’d felt previously, at half-mast. Perhaps even twice as big; a huge, monstrous size, almost like a third limb. Shen Jiu’s sweating just slightly as he thinks about such a thing entering him, breaking him, tearing him apart—and wondering why the thought stirs just the faintest hint of arousal in him, his pink hole twitching and eager for the thick appendage to enter him. Nineteen odd years of living, and this is the most perverted Shen Jiu has ever felt.

I’m ruined, he thinks, as he feels wet slick dribbling out of him once more. I’m ruined for good.

Oddly enough, Luo Binghe takes his time. He grabs hold of his cock, lines it up against Shen Jiu’s entrance, and teasingly begins rubbing against the pink orifice, sliding it back and forth and never going in, only continuously coating it with the moist slick that won’t stop seeping out. Shen Jiu’s almost in tears when he feels Luo Binghe so close, so big and so hard and so ready—and yet still refusing to fuck him good, when Shen Jiu already feels too empty for his own good.

The damned demon lord even has the cheek to raise his gaze back up to Shen Jiu, once or twice, just to gauge for his reaction while executing such—tantalising movements.

Fine, if he wants so badly for Shen Jiu to beg, then Shen Jiu will beg.

“Bing-gege,” Shen Jiu cries out, looking up at him from underneath his wispy lashes, and with swollen red lips that have been chewed clean. “Bing-gege, won’t you fuck A-Jiu, already?”

That wretched beast, his dick even jerks right against Shen Jiu’s thigh at the very sound of Shen Jiu’s plea.

“Mm,” Luo Binghe grows smug. “A-Jiu sounds so good begging.”

“Bing-gege,” Shen Jiu’s sobbing now, unable to believe the cruelty of the man. “I’m already wet and ready, all for you.”

Luo Binghe chuckles, eyes dilating with crazed sexual desire and thirst. “A-Jiu is already getting so good at saying the most lewd things.”

Shen Jiu’s only being nice to get what he wants, dammit! “Fuck me now, or I’ll find someone who will, you filthy beast!”

...And somehow, that does it. Luo Binghe’s breaths stutter, like he’s never been called by a sweeter thing.

(It is nice to have a shizun so sweet and obedient to his bidding. But whenever Shen Jiu gets into his angry fits—ah, that’s when it hits the spot for Luo Binghe.)

He thrusts his hips forward, breaching inside of Shen Jiu’s tight heat without a further moment’s hesitation. The moment their flesh meets, they’re throwing both their heads back in explosive pleasure, letting out the loudest moans. As expected, Luo Binghe’s overly big, and Shen Jiu’s overly tight—and the resulting stretch is mind-blowing.

I was wrong before, Shen Jiu thinks, gasping to catch his breath as his body swallows Luo Binghe whole. This is, this is, when I’m ruined for good.

The outline of Luo Binghe’s cock shows, extending right at the surface of Shen Jiu’s flat belly. His pale skin is marred by the thickness of Luo Binghe’s appendage, lying just underneath. When Luo Binghe notices this, he’s leaning one hand over, his fingers excitedly tracing the curve of his cock against Shen Jiu’s stomach.

“So small,” Luo Binghe whispers, completely enthralled by this sight. “A-Jiu, anymore, and you would break.”

Shen Jiu’s ruby lips are drawn open in a loose moan, feeling the unbearable burn of Luo Binghe inside of him. How is that even a burn feels this good… “If I can’t—take you—haa—then how will I take—your baby—”

Luo Binghe’s dick shudders inside of the fox, as he groans at the very thought. “You’re right, you’re absolutely right, you’re going to have my baby.” And then he seizes hold of the soft, unblemished skin around Shen Jiu’s tiny waist, clenching his thick fingers down onto them as he begins thrusting in and out of Shen Jiu.

Shen Jiu lets the tears flow from his eyes this time, as he feels Luo Binghe start to leave unfettered red and purple bruises on him. Oh, but it hurts so good—and Luo Binghe is ever so unrelenting, fucking him deep and hard, keeping a steady pace, never slowing despite the noisy, pitiful, kittenish whimpers leaving Shen Jiu by the second.

He knows Luo Binghe has waited far too long for this day to coddle the fox spirit so. The demon himself is at the height of his pleasure, his own eyes half-lidded and unfocused, his own mouth letting out heavy pants as he rocks into Shen Jiu with such vigour. Shen Jiu knows it’s no small feat to remain undeterred by the effects of Xin Mo, and not turn to dual cultivation as an easy fix for the agony and suffering he must have been through. But out of his love for Shen Jiu, he’d remained so avidly faithful. Just for that reason alone, Shen Jiu feels like he can never resent Luo Binghe for anything. The demon has always done his best to give him everything. And now—oh, now, he’ll let Luo Binghe reap the fruits of his sacrifice.

Luo Binghe spreads his lips into a wider smile when their gazes meet, and he sees his A-Jiu—his sweet, adoring, beautiful A-Jiu—looking up at him so salaciously with the face of his dreams. He ceases his thrusting for a second, bends over the bed to pick up the rest of Shen Jiu into his arms, and then begins spearing Shen Jiu back down onto his cock, fucking him in an upright, and much tighter, position.

Shen Jiu’s being supported by Luo Binghe’s arm strength alone. The sheer difference in their size and strength is enough to send Shen Jiu’s head spinning, his small, erect cock straining painfully against his own stomach at the knowledge.

In this new position, Luo Binghe’s mouth can reach Shen Jiu’s ears. His tongue darts out to lick at them, sending them twitching incessantly with how sensitive they are to the naked touch. Shen Jiu whines like a young fox kit would, the combined pleasure of being stimulated in all of his sweet spots rendering him completely helpless in Luo Binghe’s touch. He wraps his arms up around Luo Binghe’s neck, lifting his small hips as best as he can to facilitate Luo Binghe’s thrusts. Luo Binghe’s hands drift further down his waist, landing right on Shen Jiu’s bubble butt, unable to resist squeezing them each time he shoves in deep between those two meaty cheeks.

Shen Jiu’s lips are pressed to his bottom jaw—the highest he can reach—and moaning endlessly against his skin, just mere inches away from Luo Binghe’s ears. The demon lord’s in complete heaven.

“Binghe,” Shen Jiu lets slip one time in a soft cry, his hands pulling at Luo Binghe’s curly locks of hair.

“Oh, shizun,” Luo Binghe sighs out, when he feels Shen Jiu’s legs tighten weakly around him.

“Bing-gege,” Shen Jiu gasps, just as Luo Binghe’s mouth dips further down his neck, and bites feverishly into his skin. He’s smiling, as sweaty as he is, feeling like he can never be happier than this, echoing out words, a blissful future, that he has always so wanted as a child, “Let’s be like this, together, forever.”

Luo Binghe’s movements grow even more erratic, even more urgent, eager to fulfill such a promise made by his young shizun. He kisses Shen Jiu, smothers him, even, with his entire heart and devotion, building up to his first orgasm of the evening, squeezing Shen Jiu so tight as he finishes deep inside of him, “Forever, with you, A-Jiu.”

Today would be just the first of their many forevers.

Liu Feng stands outside the door, holding a plate of food that has long gone cold.

He doesn’t bother knocking, or calling out to Shen Jiu to announce his presence.

It’s been made very clear to him—from the very sinful noises seeping out of the locked room—that Shen Jiu isn’t hungry. Or hungry in the literal sense for a meal, at least.

Liu Feng had been afraid Shen Jiu would have been hungry. The Qing Jing Peak Lord had missed out on the celebratory dinner right after the succession ceremony, having disappeared almost immediately after with Luo Binghe in tow; and Liu Feng had gotten exceedingly worried after Shen Jiu hadn’t returned. And they’d served Shen Jiu’s favourite gecko tonight, so there was no way Liu Feng was letting Shen Jiu miss it. So he’d grabbed an entire plate’s worth of food, and made his way to Qing Jing Peak first thing, hoping so badly with his heart that Shen Jiu had safely concluded his business with Luo Binghe, and had simply decided to stay on Qing Jing Peak to take some time to himself.

It sure looks like there was nothing to worry about. For while he’d been worried about Luo Binghe devouring Shen Jiu in many ways—it seems the demon lord, in this lifetime, is hell-bent on devouring Shen Jiu in a way that’s very much agreeable with Shen Jiu.

Liu Feng is not dense. He knows Shen Jiu, and all the other Peak Lords, think he is; but he is not. He is a grown man himself, and he has lived two lifetimes worth to understand the risks associated with love, and the weight of it all.

He knows there is a good reason why Shen Jiu has not returned his affections, even after such a long time of public courtship.

He knows it deep inside his heart; he just never wanted to face up to such a fact. Because Luo Binghe had promised never to return, and so it’d been something Liu Feng had always been banking on, something he’d always been counting on. Shen Jiu may not love him back, not in the same way that he does; but soon enough, Shen Jiu’s heart will give way, and he will lose all hope, and he will come to accept Liu Feng as the one for him.

Because it has always only been one Qingqiu for him.

And Liu Feng tried his best, didn’t he? He tried his hardest to take care of Qingqiu, throughout all these years.

But he understands now, that such a simple—and complicated—thing such as love cannot be forced, and he has been nothing but a complete fool.

And a fool he will be, no more.

Bai Zhan Peak Lord Liu Qingge knows when to accept his losses when it’s staring him right in the face.

He leaves the cold plate of food right by Shen Jiu’s door, and thinks with a heavy heart,

I’ll try again in our next lifetime, Shen Qingqiu.

Tianlang-jun finally sees the sun, for the first time in over a month.

Much to his surprise, that abomination of a son comes back for him and lifts the barrier that seals him under this mountain—and accompanying him is a face so familiar and sweet, and one he holds so dear to his heart.

As Tianlang-jun climbs out of the hellhole he’s been trapped under for so long now, with limbs that have almost forgotten how to work and a mind that had almost gone stir-crazy from the loneliness, he knows he certainly does not look his best, and is almost apologetic for his appearance when he comes face-to-face with the huli jing that has plagued his mind every day and night since he last left him.

“Shen Qingqiu,” is the first thing Tianlang-jun whispers out, the minute their gazes meet.

There is something so remarkably different about the fox spirit. The absence of his pheromones is one thing, the guilt and regret on Shen Jiu’s face is another, and don’t get him started on the extravagant, golden robes Shen Jiu is adorned in, clothes that are only fit for an empress; but it’s only when Tianlang-jun’s gaze travels down further that he realises exactly what is so different about him.

A round belly. Shen Jiu is clutching to himself—a round belly, and radiating a blissful glow about him that wasn’t there before.

No wonder there is the distinct lack of sweet aroma exuding from him, unlike what Tianlang-jun is normally used to.

For Shen Jiu is now with child.

All at once, his heart sinks.

“Haaa…” Tianlang-jun’s laugh leaves him, in pure disbelief. It’s easy to put two and two together, and come to the conclusion that his one and only son has not only taken his realm from him—but the only person who has ever captured his heart. “You… you’re good, Luo Binghe.”

The demon realm, he was fine with. If Luo Binghe wanted it so badly, he could have it. Shen Qingqiu was right, there was no point clamouring for the power to rule over a realm that never did anything for him. But to add insult to the wound, and steal Shen Qingqiu from him, too? Ah… Tianlang-jun has never truly resented anyone more. Not even his status as his son could spare him, from this one.

“A-Jiu insisted we set you free,” Luo Binghe informs him stiffly, one arm wounding tightly around his fiancé. “After all, we are family.”

“Tianlang-jun,” his sweet Qingqiu steps forward, saying, forcing a smile to him. “It’s good to see you alive and well.”

I did my best, Tianlang-jun wants to tell him, so badly. For you.

Instead, all that comes out is a strangled, “Shen Qingqiu, you’re still so beautiful.”

Shen Jiu turns to the side, and swallows back his tears.

Tianlang-jun wonders if he’s happy with Luo Binghe. He hopes he’s happy with Luo Binghe. Because the Shen Qingqiu he knows would never agree to have a child so easily with anyone who wasn’t worthy. Tianlang-jun can only take solace in such a fact. Shen Qingqiu has always been strong enough—for the both of them.

And when Shen Jiu shows that beautiful, strained smile to him once more, and so sincerely asks of him, “We hope you will come to our wedding,” Tianlang-jun knows Shen Qingqiu has so clearly made his choice.

This time round, Shen Qingqiu has chosen someone over him.

“Of course,” Tianlang-jun answers, with the brightest smile on his face. “Of course I will.”

And then, just for fun, he turns to Luo Binghe, and brazenly asks, “So, about that Xin Mo of yours… Will you let your old man take it for a ride, sometime?”

Luo Binghe’s eyes are wary and he remains reluctant, but Shen Jiu nudges him to play nice and so he gives in, answering his father with a casual, “Perhaps.”

“Come,” Shen Jiu tells Tianlang-jun, as he gives him his hand. “Let us go home.”

And Tianlang-jun accepts it, wishing that he truly was—under much different circumstances.

(Tianlang-jun will soon make it his mission to use Xin Mo to find himself a timeline in which Luo Binghe does not exist. If Luo Binghe had managed to find himself a Shen Jiu who will love and cherish him, then there exists another Shen Qingqiu for Tianlang-jun to love out there, too.

Tianlang-jun will not bear this heartache on his own, forever.)

They hold the wedding of the century, just as Luo Binghe promised. He spares absolutely no expense, only wanting for the best for his A-Jiu. They get the best venue, the best decorations, the best garments, and everyone—from the demon lords of the north, to the great cultivation sects of the human realm—is invited, including each and any one of the brothel jiejies Shen Jiu has ever crossed paths with; and even the street rats they’d played with, back in the small town they’d once settled in. No one dares to refuse Luo Binghe’s invitation, afraid of offending the one and only demon emperor. Luo Binghe makes nice with the Peak Lords of the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, offering them much gold and even an exclusive alliance with the demon realm, wherein disciples of the sect can freely come and go and trade valuable cultivation knowledge with the palace Luo Binghe has under control. Even the Lius show up at the wedding, no matter how devastated they might have been by Shen Jiu’s ultimate choice for a husband.

Everything is absolutely perfect.

Except for the absence of a certain Bai Zhan Peak Lord, who’d entered seclusion shortly after the day of the succession ceremony.

(It’s said the tremors of his heartbreak can be felt all the way from Lingxi Caves to the borderlands of the demon realm. There certainly has been a good amount of songs and novels borne out of such a narrative.)

Luo Binghe normally would have been displeased by such an occurrence, but because there have been an equal amount of songs and stories, if not more, being written about his and Shen Jiu’s heart-wrenching romance, with a huge ton of emphasis on the self-sacrifice and the devastating seven years worth of being apart that they’d had to endure to get to where they were today; Luo Binghe doesn’t make a fuss over it, really.

In the end, it’s Shen Jiu who is lying next to him at night and sleepily snoring in his arms, after all. It’s Shen Jiu who he kisses awake, it’s Shen Jiu who he makes porridge every morning for, it’s Shen Jiu who he’s marrying and making his rightful empress, to rule by his side for eternity to come. It’s Shen Jiu who’s full and round with his child, it’s Shen Jiu who has given him the promise of a family he has always wanted—and more.

It’s Shen Jiu who has changed him, and vice versa.

The wedding goes without a hitch. When they perform the last of their rituals, and they are finally pronounced a married couple, Luo Binghe is eagerly carrying a very pregnant Shen Jiu up into his arms at the altar, and cradling his veiled bride to himself so tight, spinning him around as if flaunting his new bride to everyone in sight.

Shen Jiu smiles embarrassedly into his husband’s broad shoulders, grateful that no one is able to see him blushing underneath the red silk.

“Bing-gege, put me down, I can walk by myself,” Shen Jiu tells him, hands weakly pushing at his chest.

“No,” Luo Binghe kisses the top of his head, saying. “From now on, I’ll always carry you, for as long as I live.”

Five years later

Little Luo Ying runs around the small farm they’ve grown in the back of the palace garden, her two chubby fists reaching out to grab hold of the first fully grown radish she sees sticking out of the soil. When she has successfully pulled the vegetable out with her bare fists, she wields it up high in the air, jumping up and down to catch her mother’s attention from afar.

“Mama! Mama! The radish from yesterday is ready!”

Shen Jiu sighs when he sees such a sight, already noting the grime and dirt sullying the hems of her black and red robes. And yet he can’t bear to bring himself to lecture his little Ying’er, who bears a face—and a red demon mark!—with almost complete resemblance to her father. Even her mannerisms, or the way she clings to her mother all day, always begging for his attention, is entirely identical to her father’s. And Shen Jiu has always held such a soft spot for his Bing-gege.

The only thing she got from her mother were those beautiful emerald green eyes of his—and the two cute, white fox ears growing behind her head. Just like her mother, Luo Ying is a huli jing, and an especially powerful one of Heavenly Demon blood.

“You did good,” Shen Jiu smiles, walking towards his daughter. Luo Ying gazes up to him expectantly, with her two full cheeks turned up towards him, and her two pigtails bouncing adorably on her head. Shen Jiu laughs, and gives her the headpats she deserves, scratching at her fox ears lightly as he does so. “We can have the radish tonight for dinner.”

“Yay! Mama’s the best! Will you tell Baba that little Ying’er grew it whole?”

“What did little Ying’er do?” Luo Binghe’s voice comes beckoning from behind, as he strides down the palace walkway.

Luo Ying drops the radish almost immediately to the ground, and goes running to her father, arms widespread for a hug. “Baba!”

Luo Binghe catches her and lifts her into his arms, hands immediately pinching at her plump and full cheeks. “Ying’er, you’re dirty again. You know mama doesn’t like it when you’re dirty.”

“She just took a bath, too,” Shen Jiu laments.

“See?” Luo Binghe playfully chastises his daughter, tapping at her cute button nose. “You’ve upset mama.”

“I’ll take another bath!” Luo Ying grins, saying. “Mama should join me, too!”

“Baba has some business with Mama,” Luo Binghe tells her, raising a hand to signal for the servants to make their way over. They retrieve the overly excited Luo Ying from Luo Binghe’s arms, and take her away. “Here, be a good girl and go have your bath, okay?”

“I’ll see you for dinner, Ying’er,” Shen Jiu says, leaning over to plant one last kiss on Luo Ying’s temple before she’s carried away to her bath. “Don’t get yourself dirty again before dinner.”

“I promise I won’t, mama!”

Shen Jiu’s still smiling to himself as he watches Luo Ying disappear around the corner, still engaged in a passionate discussion with the servants about the one radish she has grown.

Luo Binghe steps up, his arms sneakily enveloping Shen Jiu into an embrace from behind as he buries his nose into Shen Jiu’s neck. Shen Jiu already knows what his husband wants from him—he feels it, actually, all thick and hard, already pressing right against the wedge of his ass. These robes were clearly too thin…

“There’s some time,” Luo Binghe whispers, fingers brushing through Shen Jiu’s hair. “Before dinner.”

“Binghe, you’re insatiable,” Shen Jiu huffs. “I just got back from Cang Qiong, too.”

“Which is why I’ve missed you,” Luo Binghe sulks, kissing down the Qing Jing Peak Lord’s collar bones. “You haven’t been here.”

“For a couple of hours,” Shen Jiu nags away at him.

“Long enough for me to feel your absence,” Luo Binghe frowns. Then, launching into a big grin once more, he tells Shen Jiu something that has been on his mind for a while now, “Let’s make another one.”

Shen Jiu grows bright red, knowing exactly what the demon lord means. “Bing-gege!”

“Do you think the next one will be a huli jing, too?” Luo Binghe wonders aloud.

“Alright, alright,” Shen Jiu says, only twirling around so he can kiss his husband quiet and shut him right up. “Let’s go!”

Luo Binghe laughs, and accepts his wife’s kisses. “Let’s make another one,” he repeats again, pressing their foreheads together, in a much more serious, much lower voice this time. “Tonight.”

Shen Jiu flushes, but nods away anyway, this time much more amenable and willing to do such a thing. “If that’s what you want.”

“If that’s what you want,” Luo Binghe smiles back at him, an utterly charming sight.

And Shen Jiu, well, Shen Qingqiu? He falls in love with his Bing-gege all over again.