Chapter Text
As far as anybody else is concerned, Luo Binghe is still at the palace.
He likes it that way. Since ascending to his position of Heavenly Ruler, it seems that there’s nobody left in the Middle Kingdom who’s stupid enough to challenge him. Moreover, ruling over such a vast territory requires more administrative work than ever before.
All in all, life has become suffocatingly dull. Luo Binghe would be tempted to expand outward for a little bit of excitement, dealing with the upstart barbarians in the north, but quashing local rebellions is a far more pressing matter. Even if it is infinitely more boring.
Thus, he finds his amusements elsewhere.
Traveling his domain anonymously has proven to be adequately diverting. Very few people know what he looks like, so he doesn’t even need to wear a disguise--beyond changing into more modest clothing and keeping Xin Mo stored away. Dressed in cotton or hemp robes and repressing his demonic qi, Luo Binghe looks like nothing more than a handsome youth.
Today, he’s about two thousand li southeast of the palace, in the coastal town of Huating, built on the banks of the Huangpu river. The famine isn’t so bad out here, further from the epicenter of the merge. But there are still many refugees from the Yellow Earth Plateau and Central Plains, going by the accents that Luo Binghe can hear from many of the people in the streets--in addition to the larger-than-usual number of beggars. He spots a few demons, too. Though, like him, they travel with their demonic qi suppressed, effectively disguising themselves as humans. Unlikely to be sowers, since there’s such an abundance of rotten human flesh further into the interior.
In the end, merging the realms together truly had solved the food shortages in the Demon Realm.
(Luo Binghe ignores the little curl of unease in the pit of his stomach. There’s no use getting hung up on things that are already done.)
Anyway, he’s not interested in any of that at the moment. He’s on the lookout for beauty. One of the things that has lost much of its appeal in the past few decades is seduction. Since attaining the ultimate heights of power and adding three goddesses to his household, the thrill of this sort of conquest has been lost. These days, women and courtiers alike pant after him like dogs in heat, stirred chiefly by the desire for Imperial favor. For advancement for themselves and their families.
There’s simply no sport in it, anymore.
Except, of course, when he travels incognito. Because, when he appears to the world to be nothing more than a penniless, orphaned youth with no prospects, a successful seduction must be achieved through the force of his charm and good looks alone. In a way, it’s nostalgic.
There are slim pickings in a town like this, of course. Mortals are vulnerable to the ravages of existence in a way that cultivators are not, so even those with the potential for great beauty often fall short.
Nonetheless, he perseveres, eventually finding a suitable target in the market, perusing a stall selling children’s toys. A pretty young woman, if not precisely beautiful, wearing a finely-tailored and embroidered dress made from cotton rather than hemp, and accompanied by a maidservant. Not wealthy by the standards of the court, but certainly wealthier than the average wretch in this backwater town. Very likely from the household of a merchant, given the lack of silk. Adhering to the sumptuary laws that Luo Binghe had reinstated at the behest of some of his wives and courtiers.
Her hair is done up in a simple yet elegant style, indicating that she’s married. While Luo Binghe only ever takes virgins into his harem for the sake of face, he has come to greatly enjoy seducing married women and concubines during these little excursions of his. There’s the extra challenge of it, coupled with the knowledge that if a child should result from the tryst, the cuckold will probably be none the wiser. There’s a certain twisted satisfaction at the prospect of the humans who so resent his existence serving as the unwitting providers for children who share his tainted blood.
He’ll need to scout out her husband as well, to see the fault lines he can exploit in his seduction.
He considers several possible strategies of approach, until a golden opportunity presents itself: a cutpurse, slyly getting in close to Luo Binghe’s target. Such convenient occurrences happen often, Luo Binghe has noted.
Luo Binghe springs into action, grabbing the cutpurse’ hand. The man yells, dropping the knife; Luo Binghe’s prey gives out a little shriek of alarm as it clatters to the dirt.
Luo Binghe smiles sweetly at her. “Apologies for startling Jiejie,” he says.
The cutpurse snarls and tries to get a swing in at Luo Binghe, but Luo Binghe releases his wrist and steps out of the way. The man loses his balance and tumbles to the ground.
“Th-thank you,” the woman says.
The cutpurse scrambles to his feet and starts to run away. Luo Binghe asks her, “Shall this didi chase him down, Jiejie?”
“That’s not necessary,” she says, composing herself. “These are difficult times.”
Luo Binghe isn’t surprised. Women tend to be weak and tender-hearted so long as it’s not too inconvenient for them.
The maidservant asks, “Is Madam Shen alright?”
“I’m fine, Hua-er,” the woman says.
Ah, so she’s married to a ‘Shen’. Luo Binghe says, “Jiejie is very compassionate. May this didi ask for Jiejie’s name?”
“Yang Qing,” she replies. “And yours?”
Luo Binghe beams. “Wu Dongshui.” It’s not his only alias, but it is the one he uses most often.
She salutes him. “Thanking Wu Dongshui once again.”
“It was the least this didi could do for one so lovely as Qing-jie,” he says. The sudden familiarity should be cheeky enough to disarm her, but not so rude as to cause offense. At least, when one has a face like Luo Binghe’s.
Yang Qing doesn’t look affronted, but she also doesn’t seem flustered. Only her maidservant blushes.
Internally, Luo Binghe smirks, pleased that she’ll be a bit more of a challenge. Outwardly, he remains the perfect picture of a sweet and guileless youth. “Bidding Qing-jie farewell,” he says. “Perhaps we’ll see each other again.”
And with that seed successfully planted, he departs into the bustling market.
He doesn’t go far, trailing her at a distance. She picks up a few more things from the market: some candies, lotus seeds, and fresh vegetables. Then Yang Qing and her maidservant return to their residence--a neighborhood filled with larger houses.
Luo Binghe jumps onto the roof, peering down into the courtyard at an angle where he cannot be seen from below. The interior of the house is handsome enough: a well-tended garden in the center of the courtyard, along with a small pond. Everything looks clean and kept in good repair.
A little girl is dipping her feet into the water, watching the fish swim hither and thither. Her head snaps up when she hears her mother enter. “Mama!” she exclaims, jumping to her feet and running to Yang Qing. “Baba’s still lying down.”
Yang Qing pats the girl’s head indulgently. “This mama will go visit him, then.” To her maidservant, she says, “Remind Cook Zhou to prepare a meal in accordance with Healer Wei’s instructions.”
The maidservant scurries off.
Yang Qing heads into the house, cutting her off from view, while the little girl returns to put her feet in the fish pond, humming a tune.
Luo Binghe leaps to the opposite roof. From here, he can’t see into the house, but he can still overhear.
“This wife is back from the market, Gege,” Yang Qing says, with bubbly cheer. It’s quite the stark contrast to how reserved she’d been in the market.
A soft but melodious male voice responds, “This husband apologizes for being so useless.”
“Gege is being silly,” she chides fondly. “I picked up some new toys for Lili. She’ll be happiest if Gege gives them to her.”
“Lili is very lucky to have a mother as thoughtful as A-Qing,” he says, with equal fondness.
“What about Gege?” There’s a pout in her voice.
Her husband chuckles weakly. “This gege is also very lucky to have such a thoughtful and adorable wife.”
There’s a pause, and then Yang Qing says plaintively, “Gege…”
“Mn?”
Her voice begins to wobble. “Gege has to get better. Gege has to rest and conserve his strength, and not worry about anything else.”
“...Mn.”
Yang Qing doesn’t mention the incident from the market. Because she doesn’t want to worry her bed-ridden husband, or because she doesn’t want to raise suspicions about the handsome youth who’d saved her?
This question is answered when she leaves the room, walks out of her husband’s human earshot, and breaks down crying. She tries to muffle her helpless sobbing, to no avail.
A love match, then. An anomaly, to be sure, but not unheard of.
This just makes it more of a challenge.
The happy couple are sleeping separately due to the husband’s ailment, which provides Luo Binghe the perfect opportunity to get a good look at the man without having to go through too much extra trouble.
Luo Binghe silently drops onto the veranda and slides open the door, walking over to the simple but sturdy bed. He draws a talisman in the air with his qi to make sure that Yang Qing’s husband doesn’t wake up.
The man is pretty enough, upon examination. Perhaps not as peerlessly beautiful as some of the courtiers and eunuchs that Luo Binghe has bedded, but pleasant to look at. Indeed, the more Luo Binghe looks at the man’s face, the more pleasant it becomes.
There’s also a certain...resemblance. Very subtle, and only noticeable from certain angles.
Could it be that this Shen is a distant relative of Shen Qingqiu’s?
Luo Binghe dismisses the thought almost as soon as it comes. Shen Qingqiu had been a slave, which meant his original family name had likely been replaced with another at random.
So...a reincarnation?
This possibility seems even less plausible. Luo Binghe had mutilated Shen Qingqiu’s body extensively, meaning Shen Qingqiu’s soul would’ve also been damaged. Assuming that it had managed to repair itself at all, which would’ve surely taken quite some time, it’s only been a couple of centuries since Shen Qingqiu’s death. Not nearly enough time to account for the differences that are already so apparent.
Shen Qingqiu had exuded an aura of cold hostility, including when he slept, and this couldn’t be further from the case with the man before Luo Binghe now. Everything about him is warm and inviting, even in his weakened and unconscious state.
The resemblance is likely just a coincidence, since it would surely take countless lifetimes for Shen Qingqiu to become anything other than scum.
Luo Binghe touches the smooth skin of the man’s cheek, trailing it down to the mild scratch of stubble closer to his jaw. Yes, Luo Binge can definitely see how a woman could come to be attached to this man.
He traces the man’s bottom lip, marveling at its softness. But ah, his mouth would surely look even prettier, stretched wide around Luo Binghe’s cock.
Luo Binghe is vaguely surprised by the arousal that kindles within him. Usually, mere thoughts are not enough to affect him like this. The feeling only grows more pronounced when he places his hand upon a smooth, pale wrist in order to check the man’s qi flow.
It quickly becomes clear that the problem stems from the man’s heart, and that it’s severe. Luo Binghe is no healer, but he has enough experience in these matters to know that, left untreated, this man could die very soon.
That won’t do at all.
Luo Binghe bites into his thumb and dribbles a few drops of blood into the man’s mouth. He directs his blood parasites to his heart, discovering that one section of it is badly damaged. Very simple to repair.
It only takes Luo Binghe a few moments.
By the time he’s done, the man’s breathing has already eased considerably. This condition must have been causing him a great deal of pain.
If Luo Binghe ever reveals the truth of how he was cured, he'll surely be very grateful.
Luo Binghe returns to the palace and finds himself a pretty, low-ranking eunuch to fuck, not wanting to bother with the tedium necessary for a visit with one of his wives. Even the demons and goddesses in his household, who are not confined to the palace harem or subject to its rituals, will require conversation and other pleasantries.
Luo Binghe just needs to scratch an itch without any fuss.
And so he drives into that tight, welcoming body, wringing pretty noises from the eunuch’s pink lips. He imagines a different set of lips, and the softness of them under his fingers. A different voice making such sounds. The climax that hits him is unusually intense, and he pumps the eunuch full to bursting with his seed.
“Your Majesty was especially vigorous tonight,” the eunuch notes afterward, drowsy and sated. Glowing with health. If Luo Binghe took this pretty mortal often enough, then even he would eventually attain a golden core, despite being far beyond the ideal age for cultivation.
But alas, Luo Binghe has already grown tired of him.
He dismisses the eunuch so that he can formulate a strategy. Alterations are necessary, since Luo Binghe’s prey is no longer the wife, but the husband.
After taking care of some annoyances to the South, Luo Binghe returns to Huating. He asks some of the townsfolk about Yang Qing and her husband, learning that the name of his prey is “Shen Yuan”. The last living son of moderately wealthy merchant parents. An irony, apparently, since he had been a weak and sickly child, with his parents patronizing a great many healers and alchemists. Being unable to join his father and older brothers on an ocean voyage to Panyu had been what had ultimately spared him from sharing their fate. His mother died from grief--or so the gossipers insist.
Shen Yuan is known for keeping to himself, relying upon his wife to handle the public aspects of his enterprises.
“A poor excuse for man,” the drunkard at the teahouse opines, breath reeking of cheap wine. “This uncle wonders if he even has any balls.”
Luo Binghe feels a curious urge to rip out the drunkard’s throat. A silly impulse, since it’s not as though he even disagrees. Giving responsibilities to competent women is one thing; allowing a woman to have the appearance of authority over you is quite another.
Though perhaps this will work in Luo Binghe’s favor. Shen Yuan won’t have a great deal more face to lose, when Luo Binghe is buried to the hilt inside of him.
He encounters something rather more...vexing, during his investigations. A serialized novel in circulation, evidently of great popularity, that is outright treasonous in nature. The author, Jue Shi Huang Gua, is not being subtle at all in his scathing critique of Luo Binghe’s reign, even with his use of “fictional” characters. The arrogant, irresponsible, womanizing Emperor in particular.
It seems to be printed out of this city, meaning the author likely lives here as well. Luo Binghe will certainly have to have somebody track him down so he can be made an example of.
But Luo Binghe will worry about it after he’s caught his prey.
He returns to the Shen household in order to observe how things have developed since Shen Yuan’s “miraculous” recovery.
The atmosphere is celebratory. Even the servants seem to be in an elevated mood.
Shen Yuan and his daughter pass through the courtyard.
This is the first time that Luo Binghe has ever seen Shen Yuan’s face when the man is awake. Like this, the differences between him and Shen Qingqiu are even more pronounced. His honey-brown eyes are...kind. When he smiles down at his daughter, the effect is only magnified.
Luo Binghe’s breath catches. While the resemblance to Shen Qingqiu may be smaller than Luo Binghe had initially thought, there’s something very familiar about Shen Yuan nonetheless. But...Luo Binghe can’t quite place his finger on it.
“Baba is really feeling better?” The little girl asks.
“Mn,” he says. “So Lili doesn’t have to worry any longer.”
“And we can really go to the market? Together?”
“Yes, Little Lili.”
The little girl stops walking to fling her arms around her father’s middle. “Thank you, Baba,” she says, sounding close to tears.
Shen Yuan tenderly pats her head, his eyes sparkling with happiness.
Another feeling rises in Luo Binghe.
Luo Binghe has only ever been gentle and congenial with his children, but the plain fact of the matter is that he rarely sees any of them. He simply has too many, and playing favorites will serve no purpose but to stoke resentment. Of course, his children are always respectful. Many even go through the motions of showing him warmth and affection. He can always see through the act, though. At best, they admire him; at worst, they resent him.
But not a single one of them loves him. Not the way that this little girl so obviously loves her own father.
He doesn’t regret this state of affairs. It is what it is. So this peculiar feeling welling up within him can't possibly be envy.
For months, whenever he has the chance to slip away from Court, Luo Binghe keeps watching Shen Yuan from a distance. Observing. Shen Yuan remains reclusive, despite his recovery, though he does occasionally go out into the marketplace to run household errands. He always seems to enjoy these outings at first, especially when he takes his wife, daughter, or both along with him. But then he’ll see the beggars and hungry children, and immediately become dour, returning to the walled confines of his residence.
Luo Binghe keeps waiting for some opportunity to arise. Some convenient mishap, as is so customary with the women he wishes to seduce. But nothing presents itself.
And every time he thinks he should just approach Shen Yuan directly, he can’t seem to go through with it.
It isn’t because of fear. Luo Binghe could never be afraid to do something he’s done literally thousands of times.
It’s just...an instinct. That the time isn’t yet right.
He needs to know more, before he can truly finalize his plan.