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Nie Mingjue had always been a man of principle: rigid, unyielding, and absolute in his views of right and wrong. Yet even the most resolute mountains could crumble under the weight of obsession. Meng Yao, the delicate, cherubic-faced man with soft curves and an uncanny ability to tug at heartstrings, had unknowingly become his fixation.
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It began innocuously enough. Meng Yao was simply a sectless cultivator, struggling to find his place. Despite his rounder figure, his movements were graceful, and his voice was a soothing balm. When Nie Mingjue first saw him in the Unclean Realm, he noticed how the other cultivators overlooked Meng Yao entirely.
Perhaps it was his humble demeanor, or perhaps it was the way he never drew attention to himself despite being painfully competent. But Nie Mingjue saw it all—every subtle shift of Meng Yao"s shy gaze, every quick smile that never quite reached his eyes. And it ignited something within him.
The sound of Nie Mingjue’s boots echoed through the Unclean Realm’s training grounds as he sought Meng Yao out. He found the smaller man tucked away in the archives, poring over a pile of scrolls.
“Meng Yao,” Nie Mingjue’s voice was gruff, but there was a softer undertone that even he didn’t recognize.
Meng Yao jumped, nearly dropping the scroll in his hands. “S-Sect Leader Nie!” he stammered, immediately standing to bow.
Nie Mingjue waved the formality away. “I need to speak with you.”
“Of course,” Meng Yao replied, his hands clasping nervously. His plump fingers fidgeted with the edge of his robe.
“You’ve been working hard,” Nie Mingjue said bluntly.
Meng Yao blinked in surprise. “I—thank you, Sect Leader Nie. I only wish to be useful.”
Nie Mingjue’s gaze lingered on him longer than necessary, taking in the roundness of Meng Yao’s cheeks, the way his robes clung slightly to his soft figure. “You are useful. More than you know.”
The silence between them stretched, heavy with an unspoken tension.
Meng Yao broke it first, his voice hesitant. “If there’s something specific you need from me, Sect Leader, please let me know.”
Nie Mingjue’s jaw tightened. “Just… keep doing what you’re doing. And if anyone gives you trouble, report it to me directly.”
Meng Yao’s lips parted in shock, but Nie Mingjue didn’t wait for a reply. He turned sharply on his heel and left, his heart pounding for reasons he refused to acknowledge.
Nie Mingjue found himself watching Meng Yao more and more. He told himself it was out of concern—that Meng Yao’s status as an illegitimate son made him vulnerable. But deep down, he knew the truth.
He began to notice everything: the way Meng Yao’s soft hands brushed against parchment, how his robes occasionally slipped to reveal a hint of plump shoulder, the way he nibbled on his lip when deep in thought.
One evening, Nie Mingjue saw Meng Yao sitting by a pond, staring at his reflection. His expression was pensive, almost sad.
“Why do you look like that?” Nie Mingjue demanded, startling Meng Yao.
“Sect Leader Nie!” Meng Yao quickly tried to stand, but Nie Mingjue gestured for him to stay seated.
“You’re upset,” Nie Mingjue stated, his brows furrowing.
Meng Yao hesitated. “It’s nothing important.”
Nie Mingjue knelt beside him, his large frame dwarfing Meng Yao’s smaller, softer one. “If it’s bothering you, it’s important.”
Meng Yao’s cheeks flushed, and he looked away. “I was just… thinking about how I don’t quite fit in. I’m not strong or imposing like the others. And…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at his body. “I know I’m not what people expect of a cultivator.”
Nie Mingjue’s hand shot out, gripping Meng Yao’s chin and forcing him to look up. His touch was firm but not cruel.
“Don’t say that,” Nie Mingjue growled. “You’re perfect the way you are.”
Meng Yao’s eyes widened, his lips parting in shock. Nie Mingjue realized what he had said and released him abruptly, standing so quickly that his robes rustled.
“Don’t let me hear you speak poorly of yourself again,” Nie Mingjue said gruffly before storming off, leaving Meng Yao bewildered.
Nie Mingjue’s obsession grew unbearable. He found himself dreaming of Meng Yao—of holding him, protecting him, possessing him.
One day, he summoned Meng Yao to his private chambers. The smaller man arrived, visibly nervous.
“Sect Leader Nie, you wanted to see me?”
Nie Mingjue stood with his back to Meng Yao, staring out the window. “Do you trust me, Meng Yao?”
Meng Yao hesitated. “Of course, Sect Leader.”
Nie Mingjue turned to face him, his expression intense. “Then listen carefully. From now on, you are not to leave the Unclean Realm without my permission. And you are not to speak with anyone unless I approve of them.”
Meng Yao blinked, his confusion evident. “Sect Leader Nie, I don’t understand.”
Nie Mingjue crossed the room in three large strides, stopping inches from Meng Yao. His hands gripped Meng Yao’s shoulders, his touch possessive.
“I can’t stand the thought of you being hurt, of someone taking advantage of you,” Nie Mingjue confessed, his voice low. “You’re mine, Meng Yao. Do you understand that?”
Meng Yao’s heart raced. “Sect Leader Nie, I—”
“Call me Mingjue,” Nie Mingjue interrupted, his hands sliding down to Meng Yao’s arms. “I don’t care what anyone thinks. I will protect you. I will care for you. You only need to belong to me.”
Meng Yao’s lips trembled. He had spent his life craving security, yearning for someone to value him. But this… this was overwhelming.
“Mingjue… this is too sudden,” Meng Yao whispered.
Nie Mingjue cupped Meng Yao’s face, his thumb brushing over his soft cheek. “I’ve waited long enough. I won’t let anyone take you from me.”
Before Meng Yao could respond, Nie Mingjue pulled him into a fierce embrace, his arms wrapping around Meng Yao’s plump frame as if he could shield him from the world.
“You don’t need to decide now,” Nie Mingjue murmured into his hair. “But know this—I will never let you go.”
As the days passed, Nie Mingjue’s protective nature intensified. He assigned guards to Meng Yao, ensuring no one came near him without his knowledge. He even ordered custom robes made to accentuate Meng Yao’s figure, despite the latter’s protests.
One evening, Meng Yao confronted him. “Mingjue, this… this is too much. You can’t control every aspect of my life.”
Nie Mingjue’s expression darkened. “It’s for your own good.”
“But I—”
“No,” Nie Mingjue interrupted, his voice firm. “You don’t understand, Yao-er. You’re too precious to me. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”
Meng Yao stared at him, torn between fear and an aching desire to be cherished.
Nie Mingjue stepped closer, his hand cradling the back of Meng Yao’s head. “You don’t have to worry about anything. Just let me take care of you.”
And for the first time, Meng Yao allowed himself to lean into the warmth of Nie Mingjue’s embrace, unsure whether it was devotion or obsession binding them together.