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The first time Luo Binghe sees him, he thinks he’s dreaming.

It’s late at night— the forest around the foot of the mountain is thick, and only a soft dappling of moonlight is visible. Luo Binghe follows that trail, desperate to find a way out and back to Qing Jing peak. If he is absent in the morning, it will be just another excuse to get beaten. No one will listen to the fact that he was driven here against his will to begin with, by Ming Fan and his friends, just because they were bored and bullying the scrawny fourteen year old is their favourite pastime.

He’s tired and he’s hungry, not having eaten since the few scraps he scrounged in the morning before he started his training for the day. Luo Binghe’s vision swims a little, his body reacting to the exhaustion, but it thankfully doesn’t give out. It’s been hours since he’s been chased down here, and he would give anything for some water. Perhaps in the morning, he may be able to drink some dew drops; right now, he’s just looking for somewhere safe to rest for the night so that he does not get eaten by a wandering beast.

There’s a cracking sound nearby and Luo Binghe immediately flattens himself against a tree, out of the light. He accidentally steps on a twig and it snaps so loud that it echoes through the forest. Luo Binghe grimaces, and the air suddenly stills. It is then that he hears something breathing heavily, and a heavy thud thud thud start to approach him.

Luo Binghe tries to look around, tries to catch a glimpse of a way out; in one of the thin strips of moonlight that make it through the heavy forest canopy, he catches a glimpse of a giant, wolf-like beast advancing towards him. His heart beats loudly; the kids had stolen his sword, and Luo Binghe does not have a strong enough foundation to fight without a weapon. If anything his teacher tells him is correct, he would be out of luck with one anyways.

Fear grips his stomach and constricts his throat. Luo Binghe tries to quietly feel around with his foot and kick a stone in the opposite direction, hoping that it will distract whatever is advancing towards him. It does not work; the creature advances towards him, and Luo Binghe can smell it as well it draws near. It smells like earth and blood and fresh meat, and he presses himself further against the bark, praying that he melts into the tree.

As it draws nearer, he sees only one option; blind faith. The moment Luo Binghe feels the warm, moist breath of the creature on him, he darts to the side. Unfortunately, his luck remains terrible and he trips on a root as he does, sending him careening into the forest floor. He can hear the sound of the creature immediately pouncing and he throws up his arm, curling away as he braces for impact.

It never comes.

There’s a loud squeal and a voice shouting in the distance that sounds like someone saying,  “Get out, you freeloader! Didn’t you eat enough already!” before the sound of four feet bounding away echoes through the forest. Luo Binghe braces with his arm still up, until a few moments later when something grabs him in the dark, flipping him onto his back.

“Hey,” comes a disembodied voice from above, as something prods Luo Binghe’s bicep. “Are you okay?”

Luo Binghe opens his mouth to answer, but the taste of the blood in the air hits his tongue all at once, flooding him with more fear, adrenaline and nausea.

Promptly, he passes out.

When Luo Binghe comes to, it’s still dark outside. The soil underneath him is soft and springy, and the moon seems to not have moved at all from its position in the sky, large and looming amongst the stars.

Wait— he can see the moon. Luo Binghe immediately recollects what happened, and shoots up. A hand immediately pushes him back down, and he realizes he’s lying on something silky. Before he can take stock of his surroundings, a figure eclipses the moon and smiles down at him, pressing a wooden cup to his mouth. The rim is pushed forcefully past his lips but the moment Luo Binghe tastes the water, he starts grabbing at it and draining it whole.

As soon as he’s done, his vision starts to clear up. Now he’s allowed to sit up, coming face to face with a kneeling young man.

The first thing that strikes through Luo Binghe’s heart is pure terror, because the young man looks strikingly like his shizun on Qing Jing peak. He opens his mouth to apologize but his throat is still incredibly dry, so a dry wheeze comes out.

“Let me get you some more water,” the young man says, his voice gentle and mildly melodic. He stands up, and Luo Binghe watches as he takes a few steps back, dipping the cup in the waters of a small lake, one whose existence Luo Binghe never knew of.

His heart calms down once he realizes that it is not the man who teaches him. The young man  looks strikingly similar, but his features are softer, his hair only past his shoulders. He looks only a few years older than Luo Binghe, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow on his skin. He’s dressed in a single white robe, and the moonlight is bright enough to show the soft silhouette of his figure as he moves.

Luo Binghe feels his cheeks inadvertently warm at this realization and he ducks his gaze, only to see he’s sitting on a swath of cloth that looks richly green and very expensive.

The young man brings Luo Binghe another full cup of water, refusing to fully let it go til Luo Binghe brings it to his lips again.

“Why are you out in the woods at this hour?” the young man says, giving Luo Binghe a onceover. “Ah, I recognize these robes…”

The pleasant smile on the young man’s face turns mellow, but he pats Luo Binghe on the shoulder. “Shall we get you back to your peak?”

“You know where I’m from?” Luo Binghe blurts out, his voice cracking over the words, and the young man lets out a short, tinkling laugh.

“Of course,” the young man replies “You Qing Jing disciples are all too easy to spot.”

Luo Binghe bites his lip and the young man hums. Before the other can say anything, Luo Binghe blurts out, “What’s your name?”

If this person saved him, he might as well know who to be thankful to. The young man pauses, looking unsure for a moment, before sighing and saying, “Shen Yuan.”

“Shen Yuan?” Luo Binghe repeats, and Shen Yuan hushes him.

“Shh,” he says in a loud whisper. “I don’t go around giving my name to just anyone.”

Something about that phrase tickles Luo Binghe in the chest, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. Shen Yuan opens his mouth as if to continue, but he clamps it shut a few moments later and winks at Luo Binghe instead.

“Let’s get you back to that crone up there before he comes tearing down these woods again,” Shen Yuan says and Luo Binghe startles when he realizes who he’s talking about. He’s tempted to correct Shen Yuan and let him know that if he goes missing, there will only be a sigh of relief on Qing Jing.

Shen Yuan steps back, and under the watchful eye of the moon, something very strange starts to happen. His body starts to contort, starts to change in texture. It cracks and it pops and Luo Binghe watches wide-eyed as Shen Yuan’s body starts to transform. It takes simultaneously an hour and moments till, where a young and lithe man once stood, an elegant white crane crane stands instead, tilting its head at Luo Binghe.

“Well?” the crane says in Shen Yuan’s voice and for the second time that day, Luo Binghe promptly passes out.

When Luo Binghe wakes up again, it is in the small wood shed that he has to call his home. His older martial siblings are banging on the door, and a small shiver wracks his body. For a few moments he thinks whatever happened was a dream; the thought of that makes his heart sink just a little. But Luo Binghe is pragmatic, and knows that kind things do not happen to him. It must have been some weird fever dream, and one of his shixiongs must have found and dragged him back up the mountain.

Luo Binghe is yelled at for going missing, then beaten and given an extra set of chores for being delinquent enough to get chased off the mountain. It is no less than Luo Binghe expected so he takes it, on top of his regular rigorous training and studies. Ning Yingying sneaks him a particularly fat mantou while he’s sweeping a floor, and it’s all he eats till he retired back to his shed in the night. He’s so exhausted that he’s close to passing out. Luo Binghe slumps onto his wicker mat before he gets the chance to faint, his bones aching as he lies down.

Something prickles under his neck, and Luo Binghe reaches under, groping around till he pulls the bothersome item out. Through the thin cracks in the shed, enough moonlight streams in for Luo Binghe to make out the shape and texture of a long, elegant feather.

Two months pass before Luo Binghe sees Shen Yuan again. Visiting the lake is not hard; the disciples are happy to offload the donkey-work on Luo Binghe, sending him on errands down the mountain that would break a lesser person’s back. He takes them all, just so that he can stop by the lake and perhaps catch a glance of Shen Yuan.

Often, he’s greeted by serene emptiness. He treads the banks around the water, but can’t find any sign of anyone having ever lived there. He would have thought the entire thing to be a dream, were it not for the crane feather he had found.

So continuously, Luo Binghe looks. And eventually, he is rewarded.

He sees Shen Yuan sitting in one of the trees on the edge of the lake, the branch jutting out over the water. Shen Yuan is reclining on it like a daybed, one leg dangling on the side. Luo Binghe gets so excited at the sight that he calls out to him without a second thought.

“Huh?” Shen Yuan blinks and looks up; only then does Luo Binghe realize that one of Shen Yuan’s legs are peeking out from under his robes, exposing creamy skin and a long leg up until mid thigh. Luo Binghe feels his ears flame immediately as Shen Yuan looks up and beams when he sees him.

“What a coincidence!” Shen Yuan chirps, and Luo Binghe takes a moment to find his words. By then, Shen Yuan has slid off the branch and his robes fall back into place. “It is nice to see a familiar face. What’s that you have there?”

Luo Binghe seems to finally remember his physical form, and looks down at the small wrapped bundle in his hands. “Um. I don’t know.”

It had been given to him by one of the villagers at the bottom of the mountain as a thanks for some protective talismans Luo Binghe had drawn up. He had planned to hide it on his way back to Qing Jing peak and look at it later, too preoccupied with stopping by the lake.

Shen Yuan gestures towards him and Luo Binghe wordlessly hands over the bundle, his long and elegant fingers brushing over Luo Binghe’s.  By the time Luo Binghe has moved past that, Shen Yuan has already unwrapped the bundle.

It’s a small wooden box with roughly shaped osmanthus jelly cubes. Shen Yuan picks one up and pops it in his mouth, chewing contemplatively before offering one to Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe leans forward and bites it, and wants to die of embarrassment when he pulls back and sees Shen Yuan’s bemused face.

“Is it good?” Shen Yuan asks before Luo Binghe can apologize, and Luo Binghe contritely nods. Shen Yuan walks back to the tree where he was sitting, Luo Binghe’s sweets in hand.

It’s not a dismissal though. Shen Yuan invites Luo Binghe to rest at the base of the tree near him and occasionally tosses a jelly cube in Luo Binghe’s direction. He looks delighted every time Luo Binghe catches one, and a small amount of satisfaction swells in Luo Binghe’s chest. Shen Yuan also prods Luo Binghe about his studies, and listens attentively as Luo Binghe describes them.

He doesn’t tell Shen Yuan the full breadth of it— the beatings, the berating, the way he’s the least talented of his class and falling behind. Instead, he paints an idyllic picture, not wanting Shen Yuan to think any less of him. Shen Yuan, for his part, seems incredibly fascinated by Luo Binghe’s stories, so Luo Binghe embellishes them more. He remembers belatedly that Shen Yuan has seen his wood shed, so he throws in something about being so independent that he got his own quarters.

By the end of it, the sun is low on the horizon, and Shen Yuan is cast in a rich, golden glow. Luo Binghe is thankful for it, because he doesn’t think his face ever returned to a normal shade. He has to go though, because otherwise he’ll have to travel up the mountain in the dark.

“I’m here for a little while,” Shen Yuan yawns as Luo Binghe respectfully takes his leave. “If you’re not busy, why don’t you come by? I bet I could help you study.”

“Really?” Luo Binghe says quickly, and Shen Yuan shrugs.

“Why not?” Shen Yuan says. “I’m not doing anything anyways. I have a fortnight till I need to leave.”

“Where are you going?” Luo Binghe asks eagerly, and Shen Yuan simply winks at him.

“Isn’t it time for you to head back?” Shen Yuan says playfully, and Luo Binghe ducks his head, embarrassed, warmth still blooming in his chest.

But not entirely deterred.

Like promised, Shen Yuan stays at the lake for a fortnight. Luo Binghe, not missed by anyone on Qing Jing peak, sneaks out in the evenings to traverse to the foot of the mountain to meet with Shen Yuan. He sneaks some scrolls from Qing Jing to show Shen Yuan what he studies, and sneaks them back to the library before dawn. He also tells Shen Yuan more about his studies, what he’s learned, covering the fact that they are fragments of what he’s heard and things he’s had to teach himself while running away from his bloodthirsty shixiongs.

Luo Binghe hasn’t had someone sit down and listen to him like this in a long time, and he cherishes every moment of it. Shen Yuan’s attention drifts sometimes, but it’s always quick to snap back towards Luo Binghe. He prods him, and asks him more questions here and there.

Taking pity on the young disciple, Shen Yuan flies Luo Binghe back to his little wood shed at the end of their nights. The very first time, he transforms into a crane and grabs Luo Binghe by the collar, giving him the fright of his life as he lifts him into the air, carrying him like prey back to a nest. Luo Binghe hadn’t complained out loud, but Shen Yuan had seen his face and had been entirely too entertained by it. Afterwards, he would fly Luo Binghe back on his sword, and Luo Binghe would pretend that holding on to that slim waist wasn’t making his heart beat loudly in his throat.

On the third night, Luo Binghe brings one of the sword manuals that his shizun had given him. His shizun doesn’t typically gift him anything, but he had thrown this book at Luo Binghe and told him that maybe this would help him make something of himself. Luo Binghe had taken it with gratitude, and presents it to Shen Yuan, who promptly throws it into the lake.

“Who gave you that garbage?!” Shen Yuan demands, and then launches into a long lecture on how sword forms are sacred and dignified and an art that shouldn’t be disrespected by idiots creating manuals that are making a mockery of all that is holy. Luo Binghe stands there, mouth gaping, nerves starting to fray as he sees the book disappear into the murky water.

“My… my shizun,” Luo Binghe says weakly, and Shen Yuan’s frown deepens. He says nothing for a moment, scowling in Luo Binghe’s direction. Luo Binghe is ready to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness; he’ll have to do it if and when his shizun ever finds out he lost his manual anyways.

Then Shen Yuan gropes around his own waist, distracted for a second before he unsheathes his own sword.

“Let’s practice,” Shen Yuan says, tipping his chin towards where Luo Binghe hangs Zhen Yang. Luo Binghe looks with uncertainty at him, but Shen Yuan has firm resolve on his face and he can’t help but obey.

From thereon, Shen Yuan seems to slide into another role for Luo Binghe. He practices the sword art with Luo Binghe, alternating between drilling him and playing with him. Though Shen Yuan can’t be more than a few years older than Luo Binghe, he’s significantly more skilled. He moves gracefully when they practice, in a way so hypnotizing that Luo Binghe has been caught off guard and has had Zhen Yang knocked out of his hand more than once.

A fortnight passes like this, and Luo Binghe is the happiest he’s ever been. He has to hide his smile in Qing Jing peak and makes himself as small as possible there, but at the tiny lake at the foot of the mountain, he flourishes. The days are halcyon, but they come to an end too soon.

“Tomorrow I leave,” Shen Yuan says, and Luo Binghe’s feelings must show on his face more than he thinks because he continues, “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’ll be back.”

“In how long?” Luo Binghe asks, and Shen Yuan looks contemplating for a moment before he says.

“...Two months.” Shen Yuan replies, and while Luo Binghe’s heart still drops, at least Shen Yuan was kind enough to give him a vague idea.

Luo Binghe does not expect Shen Yuan to be there two months later.

Part of it is pragmatism, and part of it is desolation. During the two months Shen Yuan has been gone, the pain of Luo Binghe’s day to day life made itself known in sharp relief. His shizun figured out that Luo Binghe lost the manual and beat him, despite it having been filled with garbage. His shixongs have been making his life hell, moreso now that his shijie has been trying her best to defend them. Luo Binghe’s chores have increased, and when he’s not being berated through his studies he’s being worked like a donkey.

He did, however, keep practicing what Shen Yuan had taught him, in secret. He didn’t want anyone else to see, so he’d pick a forest clearing at twilight and dance with Zhen Yang there, feeling light and in his element. It makes him feel like he could be something more than what he is now. As soon as two months pass, Luo Binghe makes his pilgrimage down to the lake.

And true to his promise, Shen Yuan is there, reclining lazily on the tree branch once again. He’s got a fan this time, looking a lot like Luo Binghe’s shizun, except he greets Luo Binghe with a smile instead of disdain.

“I brought you something,” Shen Yuan says, and Luo Binghe perks up. Shen Yuan slides off the branch and floats over to Luo Binghe,  brandishing a small silk handkerchief. Luo Binghe takes it with a look of awe— it’s a soft white thing, with a tiny crane embroidered into the corner. “Have you been practicing what I taught you?”

"Yes laoshi," Luo Binghe snaps to attention, and upon Shen Yuan’s request, starts to show off all that he’s practiced. Shen Yuan pats him on his head afterwards, and Luo Binghe’s face is warm the entire flight back.

They spend some more time together; this time, it’s just short of three weeks. Luo Binghe cannot visit the mountain every night, especially when Shen Yuan sees signs of exhaustion around him, but the nights he does he cherishes. Shen Yuan teaches him too; how to use his sword, how to use his fists, how to recite poetry in a mellow and melodious manner instead of like a schoolkid chanting songs. Despite claiming that he’s separated from all worldly matters, Shen Yuan has rather expansive knowledge.

He tells Luo Binghe stories, of warriors and kings and generals, and the politics between the human and the demon realm. It’s nothing that hasn’t been said to Luo Binghe before, but the words aren’t chased with a cane to his knuckles if he gets something wrong.  Shen Yuan teaches Luo Binghe so much that Luo Binghe would rather call him Shizun instead. When he brings it up, Shen Yuan flicks the side of Luo Binghe’s head and asks him if he’s mad.

Luo Binghe continues to hide from Shen Yuan the bruises and the marks from his time on Qing Jing, and all the other abuse. Shen Yuan doesn’t look like he believes Luo Binghe, his mouth pressed in a tight line every time Luo Binghe claims it as a training accident, but he doesn’t push it either. Luo Binghe is grateful for it, not wanting to revisit any of his humiliations. He doesn’t tell Shen Yuan either, of the strange dreams that he has, or the way that there’s something that’s recently started to make itself known, developing alongside his golden core, something he can’t place but knows is strange and foreign.

And so time passes like this; Shen Yuan flies away for months at a time, but always returns to Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe, in turn, fastidiously studies everything Shen Yuan teaches him things that have him making strides in his cultivation. He’s driven by a need to impress Shen Yuan, a need to get praised by him and a need to see that dry smile every time Luo Binghe manages to get a hang of a new technique. He’s also driven by the underlying fear that one day, Shen Yuan will fly away and find Luo Binghe too boring to come back to.

One time, he tries to ask Shen Yuan where he goes. Shen Yuan simply gives him a soft smile and tells him beasts like him cannot be tethered to one place.

“You shouldn’t be either,” Shen Yuan says, patting Luo Binghe’s hair, and Luo Binghe feels his heart jump again.

He wants to be good enough that one day Shen Yuan decides to stay, so Luo Binghe works harder, trains harder, studies harder. He chases the impressed whistles, the headpats, the pleased looks, feeling like a flower warmed by the sun every time he gets them.

As he grows older too, Luo Binghe hits a growth spurt. Being malnourished, it isn’t as much as the others, but one day, he realizes he’s a fraction taller than Shen Yuan. Shen Yuan denies it vehemently, but it brings some kind of happiness to Luo Binghe’s heart. The strange darkness that sits within him is tamed and complacent, and Luo Binghe starts to forget about its existence.

These visits become the one string of hope within Luo Binghe that remains intact, even on his worst days. It finally feels like someone is on his side, that he hasn’t completely been forgotten, that one day he may actually mean something as a cultivator. He doesn’t have any overarching dreams; he just wantswant to be smart and strong so that one day, when Shen Yuan flies away, he’ll think of Luo Binghe as good enough to join him.

And then a golden envelope is delivered to Qing Jing peak, and the invite within it changes the course of Luo Binghe’s life.

Luo Binghe has not been as good at keeping his secret as he’s thought; not for the past year or so anyways. Ming Fan had caught onto the fact that Luo Binghe was sneaking around and nothing Ning Yingying could say would get him to leave it alone. Luo Binghe had been careful, but not careful enough when it came to hiding his tracks, and one day Ming Fan had snuck out alongside Luo Binghe.

He hadn’t seen Shen Yuan’s true form; he just saw that Luo Binghe had been seeing a young master that Ming Fan couldn’t quite get a glimpse of. Ming Fan’s initial instinct had been to tattle, but he decided to have a little more fun. He wanted to teach Luo Binghe a lesson that no matter how much help he sought from the outside, he still wouldn’t ever amount to anything more than dirt.

So when Luo Binghe sets down the mountain, wanting to see Shen Yuan before the Immortal Alliance Conference, a special gift tucked away within his robes, he’s followed by three of his fellow disciples from a distance. They’re light footed and quiet, taking great pains to not get detected by him till he reaches the lake. They watch as Luo Binghe waits by a long branch that hangs over the lake.

Nobody comes. It’s not necessarily the first time Shen Yuan hasn’t shown up exactly when he said he would; sometimes he’s delayed by a day here and there. However, Luo Binghe sets out for the Immortal Alliance Conference tomorrow, and he had been hoping that he’d be able to give the embroidered handkerchief he had made for Shen Yuan. It has bamboo stalks stitched into it, a labour of love as Luo Binghe had to either sneak away materials, or use his meager allowance at the village.

Luo Binghe waits; his martial brothers get impatient, and pounce.

It is painful in all different senses. Luo Binghe has grown more skilled, but malnourishment has still made him smaller than his martial siblings. He does a valiant job fending for himself but ultimately, there is no amount of training a scrawny seventeen year old can do to completely fight off six boys who are both bigger than him, and equally trained, even if he has been receiving one on one instruction in secret. They berate him, laugh at him, threaten to throw him in the lake so that he can join his mother, and beat him ruthlessly.

He manages to protect the gift, but sacrifices the guanyin that his mother had lovingly looped around his neck in exchange. Ming Fan spots it and grabs it, snapping the cord and laughing loudly as he announces that it’s fake. Luo Binghe tries to get it back but another disciple kicks him in the ribs, and Ming Fan bets on how far he can throw it. It flies into the bushes, and before Luo Binghe can try to run for it, he’s dragged by his hair back to the peak and presented to his shizun. He is punished harshly, then made to carry a heavy pack all the way to the conference at a distance that tires even the horses.

Shen Yuan arrives at the lake the next night, but Luo Binghe is not there. He finds the guanyin, the dull green buried in the grass, and frowns as he picks it up, wondering how Luo Binghe could carelessly lose it. Every time he had seen the child, he had been very protective of it. Shen Yuan tucks it away, resolving to give it to Luo Binghe the next time he sees him.

They do not meet again for another six years.

II.

He has learned a lot of harsh lessons in his life, many at the near cost of his own life. One of the ones he has carried the longest is the importance of time.

That is why when one of the courtiers announces that there is a poacher demon from the hinterlands of the north, Luo Binghe barely pays them any regard. When the demon tries to insist that he has something that may be of deep interest to the emperor, Luo Binghe coolly threatens him with death if it does not spark even the slightest curiosity in him.

The poacher bows low and retreats into the shadows for a moment as Luo Binghe watches him with a bored look from his throne, one leg swung carelessly over the other. It is only the morning but his day stretches long ahead of him, promising to be filled with headaches, bloodshed or both. It has been two years since he has taken the throne of the Demonic Realm, but he is still alert, still as sharp as he needed to be when he had usurped it, fresh and feral out of the abyss. Xin Mo hovers above him in a dark cloud of qi, a perpetual warning and testament.

Luo Binghe cocks his head and frowns as the demon brings forth with two of his servants, an iron cage with a figure thrashing around inside, wrapped in rope with a cloth bagged over its head. Feathers strew the cage, and the figure looks human, which would make this even more of a waste of time. It’s screeching and cursing, voice broken, and Luo Binghe does not feel a single thing stir within him. Sweating under the unimpressed look, the demon reaches a scaly hand between the bars of the cage and tugs at the sack over the creature’s head, yanking harshly.

Time ceases for a moment; Luo Binghe’s stomach drops through the ground. A battered man looks up at him, deep grey eyes widening as their gazes meet. Luo Binghe’s chest clenches, and his hands stiffen at the sight. His heart thumps loudly in his throat, and the air escapes from his lungs, leaving him in a stunned silence.

“Binghe?” rasps a familiar voice, snapping Luo Binghe out of his stupor. The person in the cage wears a shocked expression too, and has gone completely still.

He lunges out of his throne so fast that his guards startle, drawing the weapons on the demon. The demon slinks away from the cage with a yelp as Luo Binghe descends the stairs, trying to calm his rabbiting heart. Dark smoke starts to wisp from the tips of his fingers and his demon mark glows a dull red as he takes in the sight of a bruised and beaten Shen Yuan. The front of his robes are torn, the fresh mark of a whip painted across pale skin, the cloth around it tinged red.

“Who put him in this state?” Luo Binghe demands, and the moment the captor mumbles out a “He proved tough to wrangle, my lord—”, Xin Mo shoots forward, skewering the demon. The demon gurgles, flailing as Xin Mo wrenches within his chest, and Luo Binghe ignores him as he walks up to the cage.

Shen Yuan still stares at Luo Binghe, his eyes pinned to the mark on Luo Binghe’s forehead. His lips part but he says nothing; Luo Binghe reaches up and wraps his hands around the bars of the cage. Shen Yuan twitches, but there’s no more that he can move, the ropes around him tied tight.

Luo Binghe wrenches the bars of the cage till they’re tearing off, crumpled as if they were nothing but grass stalks. Part of him wonders if this is real, or if he’s trapped in one of Meng Mo’s elaborate and mildly sadistic creations again. He tosses the bars to the side and steps into the cage, while a look of fear blooms on Shen Yuan’s face.

When Luo Binghe reaches for him, Shen Yuan shrinks away. Luo Binghe immediately withdraws his hand, much to the surprise of the rest of his court.

“This humble one welcomes you into his home,” Luo Binghe says, cupping his hands and bowing.

Once he straightens up, he puts a cool and impassive face back on as he barks for the palace physician to make their presence known immediately. He steals one more glance at Shen Yuan, and barely resists the temptation to pick him up. He’s just gotten him back— Luo Binghe does not wish to scare him away so quickly.

Luo Binghe had always known that as the demonic realm’s saintly ruler, he could put a bounty on anyone and find them at his feet in no time.

He never did it with Shen Yuan, not wanting anyone to know what he kept close to his heart. He had looked for Shen Yuan of course, many times over the years, each of his searches fruitless. So to see the man again, to have a type of reunion had never imagined, to have Shen Yuan land up in his court, fills Luo Binghe with the same breathlessness he had as a boy when he first stumbled upon him.

Luo Binghe gives Shen Yuan his space, and gives his palace physician strict orders to bring Shen Yuan back to his normal state as quickly and comfortably as possible. Not wanting to scare Shen Yuan again, he waits two sleepless nights, grilling the servants and the palace physician for updates. He continues to conduct his business, and his court knows not to bring up the man he has kept, the one they wonder in secret if he is a prisoner or guest.

On the third morning, an old and feeble servant knocks on the door of Luo Binghe’s chambers and advises him that Shen Yuan is asking after Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe wastes no time, throwing his robes on in a hurry and swatting away the servants assisting him.

He sends the old servant ahead, telling him to make sure that everyone has left Shen Yuan’s chambers. Luo Binghe does not want any other witness to their proper reunion, no matter how it goes. By the time he’s pushing past the ornate wooden doors, he’s only barely contained the tremor of excitement running through his hands.

When he enters the chambers, Shen Yuan is sitting on the ledge of the window, looking out with a thoughtful expression on his face. As soon as he hears the doors close behind Luo Binghe his attention draws back to the room; Luo Binghe is speechless for a moment, worried that Shen Yuan will seem scared again.

“You know,” Shen Yuan says thoughtfully, looking at Luo Binghe. The palace physician followed Luo Binghe’s orders to the letter because even though he still seems somewhat wan, Shen Yuan looks like he’s in significantly better shape.  “I thought when we met again, you would be a head disciple if anything. Come here, let me look at you.”

Without a word, Luo Binghe complies, tentatively approaching Shen Yuan as Shen Yuan slides off the ledge and onto his feet. He can sense an air of nervousness around Shen Yuan that’s not quite fully masked and finds himself subconsciously hunching, just to dispel it.

“Stand up straight,” Shen Yuan catches him as they come closer to each other, and Luo Binghe hesitates. “I’m not scared of you, Binghe.” As if reading Luo Binghe’s mind, he also adds a, “I think anyone would be nervous if they were trapped in a cage.”

Reluctantly, Luo Binghe rolls back his shoulders. Shen Yuan reaches forward and grabs Luo Binghe by the biceps, looking up at him. Luo Binghe in turn allows himself to get a good look at Shen Yuan.

Shen Yuan has grown in the past six years; he’s taller and more elegant, though he needs to look up at Luo Binghe. Now that it’s not matted, his hair falls in a long dark curtain around him, messy strands framing his face. His face has lost some of its roundness but everything about his features still appear delicate, from his long and dark lashes, to his soft pink lips. The robes he had worn have been seamlessly mended, the white cranes frolicking across the sky blue of the fabric, and he looks as much the aloof young master as he had all those years ago, with slightly more wisdom etched into his eyes.

Luo Binghe had tried to recollect the memory of Shen Yuan in sharp clarity many times over the past years, many times for a shameful end. Seeing him in the flesh after so long invokes the same sort of low heat he had felt then, had felt all those years ago when he was still trying to make sense of himself.

“You’ve grown so big” Shen Yuan comments lightly, squeezing Luo Binghe’s arms as he looks him over. Shen Yuan’s eyes drift up to lock with Luo Binghe’s, and Luo Binghe feels his throat go dry.

“You and I have a lot to catch up on,” Shen Yuan says, his voice a murmur this time, and as he trails off Luo Binghe can feel the weight of his gaze upon him.

Shen Yuan had looked for him.

That’s the first thing Shen Yuan tells him, and that’s the one thing that lingers in Luo Binghe’s mind. He had waited for Luo Binghe, but Luo Binghe had never come— a year later, he had caught Ning Yingying finally creating a small mound in his honour and had thought Luo Binghe had been lost for good.

Since then, he has been flitting all over the lands, the imminent rise of a new saintly ruler in the background. He has never taught anyone else the way he taught Luo Binghe, he promises, because everyone else was too annoying. He had been trying to pluck a particularly juicy plum from a tree when he had been captured by a demon who had stalked him from the moment he shifted from his crane form into his human one. That demon had continuously bragged about how Shen Yuan would be his ticket into His Highness’s graces, and Shen Yuan had really tried his best to fight out of the cage before he became some demon lord’s pet.

“I would have never thought it would be you!” Shen Yuan says with some excitement, and Luo Binghe preens under the attention. He then hums thoughtfully and says, “I thought you’d still be toiling away on Cang Qiong, but you were bound to find out you were a demon…”

“You knew?” Luo Binghe blinks and Shen Yuan shrugs it off like it’s nothing. They’re currently seated in the chambers Luo Binghe has designated as Shen Yuan’s guest quarters, at the table with steaming hot tea.

“We can always tell our own,” he winks, and Luo Binghe wonders if that’s why he felt that Shen Yuan was a kindred spirit. It could be it— but it could also be Shen Yuan’s blossoming beauty. He had been handsome as a young master, but his elegance seems bespoke now, and he carries himself in an easy yet alluring manner.

Shen Yuan also wants to know what Luo Binghe has been doing, and how he’s ended up commandeering the Northern Palaces and subsequently, the demonic realm. Luo Binghe does not bother glossing over the way he had been cast into the abyss at the end of a ruthless sword, nor does he hide the bitter smile as he recounts the brutal years he spent cutting his teeth with blood. Instead of recoiling, Shen Yuan seems more and more in awe as Luo Binghe tells of his time and in turn, it spurs Luo Binghe to be more forthcoming, more graphic.

By the end of Luo Binghe’s winding tale, Shen Yuan’s eyes are glimmering with awe. He crows about how heroic Luo Binghe must have been, a stark difference from the general population, both demonic and human, that see Luo Binghe as a terrifying abhorrence.

It has been a long time since anyone has listened to him like this. His right hand man is not for many words, while his advisors are useless. Meng Mo never wanted to hear anything Luo Binghe had to say either, too focused on honing him into a weapon that the sleep demon was ultimately never able to use. Luo Binghe had never forgotten how good it felt, but that had been a curse in and of itself because he was always acutely aware of what he was missing.

There’s two questions that burn at the forefront of Luo Binghe’s mind; he wants to know if Shen Yuan missed him when he was gone, and he wants to know if Shen Yuan will stay this time. Were Shen Yuan anyone else, he would stay as long as Luo Binghe wanted him to— however, Luo Binghe cannot be this greedy.

Not now anyways. Luo Binghe has already gotten him back so ultimately, not much else should matter.

Once Shen Yuan has fully recovered, Luo Binghe gives him a personal tour of the palace that he has commandeered. It is strange to show him this— Luo Binghe knows that Shen Yuan had seen the wood shed he had been sequestered in as a child. To go from that to a sprawling estate had never been a point of pride for Luo Binghe, not until he got to show it to Shen Yuan.

He shows him the gardens, which Shen Yuan seems to particularly like, and the sprawling courtyard where soldiers train. Luo Binghe shows him the libraries that everyone in his court can peruse, and the private libraries he keeps for himself. No one has gone into the latter except for Shen Yuan— any type of paranoia or caution Luo Binghe feels seems to melt away in his presence.

Luo Binghe’s retinue gives them a wide berth. They can tell the worth of their ruler’s special guest, and word had spread fast about the poacher’s untimely demise. It is all for the better, because Luo Binghe covets Shen Yuan’s time. Shen Yuan seems more than happy to give it, and doesn’t question that he was given a chamber near Luo Binghe, instead of a place in the guest quarters.

As they spend more and more time together, Luo Binghe’s old feelings resurface, as strong as before. He has never extinguished the flame he’s kept for Shen Yuan— it had laid dormant when he had fought in the abyss, taken out only when he needed motivation to keep living. Shen Yuan seems more than happy to idle away in Luo Binghe’s palaces, and shows no sign of wanting to leave. That, Luo Binghe is grateful for, even if it makes his fingers itch with need to touch.

Shen Yuan is as elegant as the bird whose form he takes. Despite his injuries, he glides along the palace with grace, long black hair falling behind him like a curtain. His robes glimmer blue in the sunlight, the reflection of them causing his eyes to look like jewels every time Luo Binghe catches sight of them. Shen Yuan always looks mildly bemused at all times but towards Luo Binghe, he smiles, and Luo Binghe’s heart always threatens to beat out of his chest.

One night, as they take dinner together in Shen Yuan’s chambers, Shen Yuan props his hand in his chin and leans over, looking at Luo Binghe with a coy look that threatens to floor him. Luo Binghe swallows lightly and looks at Shen Yuan with innocence, hoping his face doesn’t look as warm as it feels.

“Binghe,” Shen Yuan calls to him, and Luo Binghe tries to smile at him. “When are you going to start building your harem of wives?”

Luo Binghe drops his chopsticks with a clutter and chokes on his food as Shen Yuan crows, happy he’s gotten Luo Binghe flustered.

“What?” Luo Binghe wheezes and Shen Yuan shuffles over, bumping playfully against Luo Binghe’s shoulder. The servants immediately cower back into the shadows, terrified of their master’s temper. But Luo Binghe simply coughs and stares down at his plate, so that Shen Yuan doesn’t see the fullness of his disappointment.

“A young man like you shouldn’t be so alone,” Shen Yuan says, reaching over to ruffle Luo Binghe’s hair. Luo Binghe wants him to keep his hand there, tangling his fingers in perhaps. “If not a harem, at least two or three wives should do!”

Luo Binghe ducks his head out of Shen Yuan’s grasp, the mere thought of that making his tongue bitter. He wants to ask Shen Yuan how he thinks Luo Binghe can get a wife when there is only one person Luo Binghe wants, one person he wants so badly that the ache is persistent. But he changes the topic instead, asking Shen Yuan if he has been enjoying his time in the private libraries of the emperor.

Shen Yuan has, and switches to extolling about a bestiary he found; Luo Binghe lets out the breath he had been holding, but the disappointment lingers.

Luo Binghe shouldn’t get his hopes up. Beautiful creatures do not love vile things. But he cannot help but be selfish and harbour the age-old  hope that Shen Yuan will turn towards him with a special glimmer in his eye.

Unfortunately, Luo Binghe’s potential harem seems to become one of Shen Yuan’s favourite topics. He seems to be keen on knowing what kind of woman would interest Luo Binghe enough; he claims once Luo Binghe lets him know, it won’t take him long to find one. He harangues Luo Binghe like an aunt, over food, over their walks through the courtyard, even after he sits in on Luo Binghe’s court and watches everyone like a hawk. Luo Binghe tries to smile through it at first but he can only hear it so many times over a meal before he starts to grow sullen.

Not wanting anyone to bear witness to his embarrassment, Luo Binghe sends the servants out of the room at the beginning of their meals, much to their relief. Shen Yuan starts to pick up on it, but not the way he should— he thinks Luo Binghe is simply reticent and too shy to tell his old friend his taste. Luo Binghe is perpetually a few steps away from pinning Shen Yuan against the table and telling him just exactly where his tastes lie, but he instead tries his best to distract Shen Yuan.

Sometimes it works by showing Shen Yuan some trinket from his armory, where Luo Binghe has amassed an impressive collection of weapons and jewelry, Some things in there are as old as time itself and anything pretty that Shen Yuan takes a liking to, Luo Binghe hands over without a word. Shen Yuan takes an old jade comb, an amulet that turns his skin an alarming shade of turquoise before Luo Binghe pries it off, and a tiny dagger with a rather comical looking tiger engraved into it.

At times it works with a suggestion to stroll through the gardens, where they inevitably end up languidly relaxing under a tree, Shen Yuan allowing Luo Binghe to rest his head in his lap as he chatters, while Luo Binghe avidly watches the light drifting through the leaves and dappling against their bodies. Luo Binghe memorizes the moment, memorizes the way that Shen Yuan smells faintly like fresh dew and soft blossoms, memorizes the way he’ll sometimes scratch Luo Binghe’s scalp and tell him he’s still amazed at how strong Luo Binghe has gotten.

It works the best when Luo Binghe interrupts Shen Yuan’s inquiry about the daughter of one of the western clans and suggests they practice their sword forms, something that gets Shen Yuan visibly excited. For an afternoon, Luo Binghe feels like he’s a teenager again, practicing under the moonlight under the watchful eye of Shen Yuan. Except now, Shen Yuan meets him as an equal instead of a student, drawing a sword against him and dancing across the solid stone of one of the smaller courtyards. He compliments Luo Binghe greatly and Luo Binghe preens under the attention. By the end of it, Shen Yuan is sweaty and flushed a gorgeous pink from exertion, and Luo Binghe is trying his best to not stare.

Sometimes, Luo Binghe thinks he catches Shen Yuan looking. It’s not frequent, but it’s often enough that Luo Binghe takes notice. Luo Binghe will idly recount a story over their lunch and Shen Yuan’s eyes will remain on his lips for the entirety of it; or they’ll be strolling in a courtyard, and Shen Yuan will keep his head turned towards Luo Binghe as they walk, even when he’s stopped talking. Luo Binghe never points it out, never asks Shen Yuan why he’s looking, never wanting to risk making Shen Yuan aware and losing his gaze.

Once, Luo Binghe invites Shen Yuan to the hot springs in the palace grounds, and Shen Yuan goes red as Luo Binghe changes out of his robes and wraps a towel around him. Luo Binghe asks him if he’s sick, and Shen Yuan says no, he’s just sensitive to heat, even though they’ve yet to reach steam. He then punctures the moment by telling Luo Binghe that it will be a lot easier for him to land a wife, making a vague comment about Luo Binghe being able to offer this hypothetical wife an impressive gift. This sours Luo Binghe’s mood, and is only marginally undone by the sight of Shen Yuan’s lean and willowy body submerging itself into the hot springs.

Luo Binghe wishes he could pick apart the man’s mind and see what was in it whenever Shen Yuan’s gaze lingered for a moment too long on Luo Binghe, drifting lazily down like he was taking a sight in. Maybe he was simply assessing him, for this wife he was so eager to get Luo Binghe.

Despite these halcyon days, Luo Binghe still has the ever-persistent fear that one day, he will send for Shen Yuan only to learn that his chambers are empty. It’s further amplified every time Shen Yuan talks about a wife— Luo Binghe is nervous Shen Yuan is just trying to find someone to hand Luo Binghe off to before he disappears again.

He doesn’t think he imagines the fondness with which Shen Yuan looks at him, but Luo Binghe is not entirely delusional. While Shen Yuan looks upon him with kindness, it may not mean that he feels it in the same way Luo Binghe does. Shen Yuan is simple in his affections, so Luo Binghe tries to absorb as much of it as he can without letting on what it is that he really wants.

So while he entertains Shen Yuan, he starts to search for something. And it’s not long till he gets his answer.

It is one particularly sticky and hot night, where Luo Binghe’s fortunes take a turn. It is a night where the air is thick and the insects chirr beyond the windows of Luo Binghe’s chambers. The moon hangs heavy and bright in the cloudless sky, stars smattering themselves around it. The scent of the flowers in the garden are especially thick, and none of this Luo Binghe notices, because he is too busy watching Shen Yuan.

They have taken dinner in his chambers this time, as Shen Yuan likes the view out onto the garden more from this room. Moonlight washes in, bright and ethereal, mingling with the candlelight as Shen Yuan pours them both another round of wine. The sight of it is so entrancing that Luo Binghe has barely realized that Shen Yuan has been chattering away about prospective spouses, until Shen Yuan asks him a question.

“I beg your pardon?” Luo Binghe says politely as he tears his eyes away from lean, nimble fingers of which he was having decidedly impolite thoughts.

“I said—” Shen Yuan starts, then his eyes drift from Luo Binghe’s lips and down the line of his neck.

It is still hot in the room, so Luo Binghe sits only in his silk robes, the front parted and baring part of his chest. It’s not entirely proper, but Shen Yuan sits across from him, wrapped in a thin gossamer shirt with his silky blue robe hastily thrown on. He has refused any of Luo Binghe’s gifts of more clothes— and Luo Binghe has only recently eased off on trying to shower him with luxurious silks.

“Never mind,” Shen Yuan says hastily, and Luo Binghe gives him a pleasant smile. He’s even warmer with liquor in him, and less reticent about his behaviour around Shen Yuan.

“Let this one pour for you,” he says, attempting to take the pot of wine but Shen Yuan smacks his hands away.

“That would be improper,” he scolds, then coughs awkwardly. “My lord. Others should serve you.”

“Is that what laoshi is doing?” Luo Binghe says, false concern lacing his voice. Shen Yuan makes a beautiful painting like this, strands of his hair falling around and framing his sophisticated features as he pours wine. “Or perhaps, something laoshi wishes he was doing?”

“Impertinent,” Shen Yuan scoffs good-naturedly. Luo Binghe cocks his head to the side and Shen Yuan catches him staring. “What?

Luo Binghe has been more open about looking at Shen Yuan recently. He has figured that since Shen Yuan has never noticed, and insists on continuing on about this potential wife or that, Luo Binghe can unabashedly watch him without fear of being caught. Except sometimes he thinks that Shen Yuan can tell— for example, now, when the tips of his ears tinge the faintest pink, an act that would have been undetectable to anyone but Luo Binghe.

“You are my guest,” Luo Binghe says idly. “And my teacher. It would not be improper for me to serve you.”

“Never formally,” Shen Yuan says, raising the cup to his lips. Luo Binghe tracks the action with his eyes, watching the soft pink close over the porcelain rim. Luo Binghe lifts his own, and raises an eyebrow. “Don’t give me that look.”

“What look?” Luo Binghe asks innocently and Shen Yuan coughs before he looks away.

“You need to find a wife,” Shen Yuan says, and Luo Binghe narrows his eyes. It’s his least favourite topic, and every time Shen Yuan breaches it, it darkens his mood. Still, the bare column of Shen Yuan’s neck soothes him; Luo Binghe wants to taste it under his teeth, his tongue. “You cannot keep bullying your old teacher like this.”

“And if I do not find a wife?” Luo Binghe muses, propping his chin in one of his hands. He looks at Shen Yuan beseechingly. “What then, laoshi? Who will keep me company?”

The tip of Shen Yuan’s ears grow pinker and Luo Binghe catches the way his eyes drift for a fleeting moment before they snap away.

“Pull your shirt close, that’s indecent.”

“It’s hot,” Luo Binghe complains, as if he has no power to do anything about it.

Shen Yuan knows as much and glares at him, and reaches over the table to pull Luo Binghe’s shirt close. Feeling playful, Luo Binghe grabs Shen Yuan’s wrist and tugs till Shen Yuan is squawking. He shows no mercy, even when Shen Yuan says they’re going to knock over the wine jar, half-laughing. Shen Yuan manages to twist his body so he travels around the small table instead of over it, landing on Luo Binghe’s side. Content, Luo Binghe finally lets go of him.

Bravely, Shen Yuan makes another attempt and Luo Binghe catches him just as easily, a larger smile uncurling across his face. It has to be intentional— there would be no other reason for Shen Yuan to undergo such a fruitless venture. Luo Binghe bats his eyelashes and looks at Shen Yuan with false hurt as Shen Yuan makes another noise of complaint.

They wrestle for a moment, Luo Binghe careful to put no force or effort into it, not needing it. Shen Yuan doesn’t stop trying either, though he attacks with a lot less coordination and grace than Luo Binghe knows he has. He gets redder while Luo Binghe gets more entertained and they become a tangle of limbs fast.

However, Luo Binghe is not so kind— in a moment of thoughtlessness, he overpowers Shen Yuan, yanking him this way and that till he’s landed into Luo Binghe’s lap. Shen Yuan squirms but Luo Binghe wraps an arm around his waist; as soon as his hand brushes over Shen Yuan’s chest, the fight seems to instantly deflate out of the other man’s body.

Ah. The action is so pronounced that it stirs something within Luo Binghe.

“Why are you trying to hide me?” Luo Binghe says, amused as he pulls Shen Yuan flush against his chest. "Do you not find me pleasing to the eye?”

Shen Yuan fidgets again in Luo Binghe’s lap, but Luo Binghe can sense his hesitancy. It’s the same one he has the first time they sparred, wooden swords in a faraway forest. Luo Binghe brings his other arm around Shen Yuan, firmly planting him in place.

“You already know you are—” Shen Yuan starts, trying half-heartedly to tug at Luo Binghe’s arms. “It’s for the sake of my own sanity.”

Shen Yuan clamps his mouth shut immediately. Luo Binghe’s heart skips many beats as the words sink into his skin.

“How so?” Luo Binghe says, his voice a low rumble.

“You— I…” Shen Yuan is scrambling for an excuse, but it’s too late.

Something has been put out there, something irreversible. Both of them feel it, and the tension in the room is thick. Luo Binghe feels desire churn deep within his chest at how lithe Shen Yuan is in his arms. He can sense Shen Yuan leaning into him too, tentatively.

Whatever it is, it remains unspoken for now. Luo Binghe has the realization that it does not necessarily need to stay that way.

He takes his chance, and presses his lips against Shen Yuan’s neck. Shen Yuan gasps against him, his body stiffening as Luo Binghe memorizes the taste of his skin. It’s warm and soft underneath him, thrumming with life. It may be the only chance Luo Binghe gets so he etches it into his memory before Shen Yuan inevitably shoves him off.

Then Shen Yuan fully slumps back against him, head tilting to the side, baring the long, pale column of his neck. Hypnotized by the sight, Luo Binghe leaves a lingering trail of feather light kisses up Shen Yuan’s neck, his arm around Shen Yuan’s waist tightening.

“Binghe…” Shen Yuan’s voice is soft but enough for Luo Binghe to draw back— until Shen Yuan lets out a small, needy sound that only gets abated by Luo Binghe kissing his neck again.

Luo Binghe inhales, taking in Shen Yuan’s light and floral scent, letting it slowly wrap itself into his senses. It makes him dizzy, makes him want to lose himself. His other hand starts to slowly slide up, wrapping gently around Shen Yuan’s throat so that Luo Binghe can hold him there, holding him steady as he bares his teeth into the kiss, scraping them gently against supple skin. Shen Yuan starts to squirm against him, the movement pressing against Luo Binghe’s lower half, drawing out a low moan from him.

All Luo Binghe can think of is finding more places to kiss; he tugs at the collar of Shen Yuan’s outer robe, tugging it down. His inner shirt follows half way, only held together by the thin belt. Luo Binghe turns his attention downwards, peeking his tongue out every now and then as he mouths along Shen Yuan’s bare shoulder.

Shen Yuan shifts again in his lap, this time twisting, and Luo Binghe helps him without a second thought, grabbing his hips and helping him turn till Shen Yuan is straddling his lap and looking down at him, eyes dark and glimmering.

Their gazes meet for a moment, and Luo Binghe forgets how to breathe. He’s yearned for so long, wanted for so long, and now that he has Shen Yuan in his arms he doesn’t know where to begin. Shen Yuan’s mouth parts as he licks his lower lip, and Luo Binghe gets an idea. Without a second thought, he surges up, meeting Shen Yuan in a desperate kiss.

Shen Yuan tastes like sweet wine against him. That’s the first thing Luo Binghe’s brain notices. His lips are as warm as the rest of him, plush as they press against Luo Binghe’s. Shen Yuan is incredibly pliant too— Luo Binghe feels no hesitation in the other man, only compliance as he moves their lips together.

Kissing Shen Yuan feels like a revelation. None of his fantasies hold a candle to the way Shen Yuan lets Luo Binghe control the kiss, obediently returning his movements. It’s not perfect — their teeth click together, and Shen Yuan lets out a tiny yelp of pain when Luo Binghe presses forward too eagerly — but it’s heady, and it makes heat uncurl rapidly within Luo Binghe.

Arms wrap around his shoulders and squeeze, clinging on to Luo Binghe. Their kiss deepens and Luo Binghe brings his hand up against Shen Yuan’s back, pressing against the bare nape of his neck, pulling him closer. Luo Binghe licks the line of Shen Yuan’s mouth and Shen Yuan parts his lips beautifully, letting Luo Binghe push past.

The slide of their tongues has Shen Yuan digging his fingers into Luo Binghe’s shoulders, and Luo Binghe’s other hand gripping his hip tightly. Luo Binghe lets instinct and greed drive him, taking and tasting as much of Shen Yuan as possible. He gets so eager that he doesn’t realize that he is pushing them forward till there’s a clatter then the sound of a wine cup cracking against the wooden floor, Shen Yuan’s lower back thumping against the edge of the table.

They break apart, and Luo Binghe sees his lust mirrored in Shen Yuan’s expression. Shen Yuan’s face is pink, his cheekbones particularly flush while his lips glisten in the lamp light. He looks startled again, like he can’t believe they’ve done that, but he continues to clutch onto Luo Binghe.

The desire threatens to carve him out from the inside with its voracity. Luo Binghe is barely restraining himself, his fingers itching to tear the rest of Shen Yuan’s clothes off, to take Shen Yuan apart. He wants Shen Yuan on his fingers, in his mouth, wants to be in him and fulfill his dark urge to claim him til Shen Yuan has no will to ever leave him.

This is not something he can tell Shen Yuan, otherwise Shen Yuan might slip away then and there. So instead, he pulls him in for another kiss, and hopes the tide of his love is strong enough to pull the other man under.

It is.

Shen Yuan allows Luo Binghe to lift the two of them up, complaining only mildly as Luo Binghe carries him like a bride towards the bed. Luo Binghe swallows those complaints up in another encompassing kiss as he presses Shen Yuan against the mattress, using a behemoth amount of self restraint to not immediately devour him whole. They continue to kiss, their tongues getting sloppier and sloppier til Luo Binghe draws back, wanting to see more of Shen Yuan.

Carefully, he peels away Shen Yuan’s outer robe and tugs at his belt, entranced with the way the white cloth falls away to reveal his chest. The blush has made its way down there, and Luo Binghe leans down to kiss it, to mouth along the span of his chest till he takes a nipple in his mouth.

He licks it gently before sucking it and feels Shen Yuan arching against him, body immediately responding to the touch.

“I’m not— a girl!” Shen Yuan says, tangling his fingers in Luo Binghe’s hair and Luo Binghe simply hums, well aware of the fact already. He grazes the sensitive peak with his teeth instead and Shen Yuan lets out a soft moan and starts to beg a, “Slow down, slow down—”

Luo Binghe does, but only so that he can rid Shen Yuan of the rest of his clothes. He takes his time unwrapping him, kissing down his torso, swirling his tongue down his sternum, his navel, before mouthing over his hip bones. Shen Yuan squirms but doesn’t let go of Luo Binghe; his grip tightens every time Luo Binghe does something he really likes, and it only serves to turn the kisses bruising.

By the time the last of his clothes are pulled away, Luo Binghe is kissing the inside of Shen Yuan’s thigh and Shen Yuan has a hand clamped over the lower half of his face, calling Luo Binghe shameless with a muffled voice from behind his fingers. He’s half hard, dripping, and Luo Binghe wants to tell Shen Yuan that this is not as shameless as he can get.

Instead, he continues biting the sensitive skin of Shen Yuan’s inner thigh, making sure the mark he leaves there is larger than most. He cups Shen Yuan and strokes him gently as he trails his lips up to the junction of his hip and his thigh. He wants to feel the heat between Shen Yuan’s legs as well, wants to test the give with his fingers, but while he’s exercising restraint, Luo Binghe has never been more focused. He doesn’t want to simultaneously pull Shen Yuan apart in one go; he wants to take his time and make it memorable, and wants to brand Shen Yuan with pleasure.

So he kisses the tip of Shen Yuan’s length instead as he takes it in hand and looks up at him from under his dark eyelashes, watching as Shen Yuan’s expression goes slack at the touch. Shen Yuan says his name again, a hoarse whisper, and Luo Binghe replies with a simple, “Yes, laoshi?”

“You… don’t put your mouth there,” Shen Yuan says. Luo Binghe strokes Shen Yuan gently with his thumb, and cocks his head.

“Does it not feel good?” Luo Binghe asks, close enough that his lips brush against the tip. Shen Yuan is fully hard now, and Luo Binghe gives another soft, teasing lick. Shen Yuan’s hips immediately twitch up and Luo Binghe feels pinpricks of sweet pain against his scalp as his hair is pulled.

“It’s not that,” Shen Yuan says, trying to sit up. Luo Binghe closes his lips fully over the tip this time as he hums in question, and Shen Yuan falters. “It’s— it’s not becoming— I should be doing this for you instead—”

That does something unquantifiable to Luo Binghe’s psyche; immediately, his head is flooded with the image of Shen Yuan on his knees, looking on with a sly grin as he tries to fit Luo Binghe into his mouth. He slings one of Shen Yuan’s legs over his shoulder, ignoring the way he’s straining against pants and Shen Yuan yelps.

“Let this one serve you,” Luo Binghe says and before Shen Yuan can protest again, he swallows him down.

Giving no quarter, Luo Binghe goes and goes till his nose is pressing against Shen Yuan’s lower abdomen, enjoying the salty taste and texture of having Shen Yuan in his mouth. Shen Yuan’s thigh bumps against his ear as Luo Binghe hollows his cheeks and draws up torturously slow till he’s at the tip again. He plays with his tongue and Shen Yuan arches underneath him with a sharp cry, one that Luo Binghe drinks greedily.

Luo Binghe uses that opportunity to slide his hand under Shen Yuan’s lower back and pull him deeper down his throat, bobbing his head as he moves Shen Yuan’s hips against him. Shen Yuan’s head thrashes and he stuffs the knuckles of his free hand into his mouth, trying to muffle his sounds. The whine sounds more desperate around it than it would if his mouth was unoccupied, and Luo Binghe squeezes the curve of his rear hard enough to bruise.

It is not til Luo Binghe’s fingers drift between his legs, pressing dry but gentle in towards heat that Shen Yuan comes, hard and without warning down Luo Binghe’s throat. Luo Binghe relaxes and swallows it all down, holding Shen Yuan up against him, not wanting to miss a single moment of it. His blood thunders in his ears so loudly he can barely hear the sounds Shen Yuan makes, until he feels Shen Yuan’s gone partially soft in his mouth and he finally draws out.

The sight that greets him makes Luo Binghe feel like he could conquer anything. Shen Yuan is naked and panting, eyes half-closed in hazy pleasure, his robes pooled around him. The vivid blue of them makes him look like a nymph, and his long black hair fans around him. Luo Binghe truly feels carnivorous now and he watches Shen Yuan with hunger, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Shen Yuan is blabbering something unintelligible, he realizes belatedly, so Luo Binghe leans over him and cups his jaw with one hand, slowly stroking his cheek.

“I can’t hear you, laoshi,” Luo Binghe murmurs, pushing Shen Yuan’s hair off his face and Shen Yuan’s eyes open, watching Luo Binghe blearily.

“You’re not being fair,” he says, out of breath. Luo Binghe pauses as Shen Yuan continues,“Take off your clothes. I want to return the favour.”

Luo Binghe obeys immediately, shucking off his robes and his pants. He watches as Shen Yuan’s eyes go comically wide the moment he springs free, and takes some pleasure in the way Shen Yuan visibly swallows. Shen Yuan props himself up on an elbow, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away from where Luo Binghe has been painfully hard since they got on the bed.

He reaches out to touch it— Shen Yuan must have had intention because he wraps his hand around it and squeezes. It’s on this side of a little too hard and inexperienced and Luo Binghe lets out a small yelp. Shen Yuan immediately lets go, and clears his throat again.

“Let me do the same to you,” Shen Yuan tries to say, still eyeing Luo Binghe’s lower half with a complicated expression. “Lay back for your laoshi.”

The image of it is still imprinted into Luo Binghe’s mind; if there wasn’t something else he wanted even more, he would have let Shen Yuan take him into his mouth, take him down his throat. The wet heat of it would be heavenly— however, Luo Binghe wants to stake an even deeper claim.

“Laoshi shouldn’t dirty his mouth with such things,” Luo Binghe says, pressing a soft kiss against the tip of Shen Yuan’s nose.

“You’re incorrigible,” Shen Yuan retorts, finally looking up and reaching forward,flicking Luo Binghe’s forehead. but he’s wearing a half-smile on his face. “What, then—”

Luo Binghe’s hand is already creeping between his legs, and Shen Yuan’s eyes nearly bug out of his head as Luo Binghe runs a finger over his entrance. Distantly, Luo Binghe hopes that he still has some of the massaging oil near his bed, the one that he uses to press into wounds and sore muscles on nights where he lets his injuries serve as penance. He’s heard it’ll make the journey smoother, a journey that he hopes that Shen Yuan is willing to embark on.

“I— that’s not going to fit!” Shen Yuan exclaims, gesturing towards Luo Binghe. “Are you crazy?”

As he speaks, Shen Yuan’s legs fall further apart. Luo Binghe pouts, and Shen Yuan looks at him with a mix of indignance and lust that affects Luo Binghe til his core.

“I won’t make it hurt,” Luo Binghe promises, and Shen Yuan bites his lower lip, conflicted. Luo Binghe brings his lips within a hair’s width of Shen Yuan, not afraid to plead. “Please, laoshi… A-Yuan.”

He gets his answer in a kiss, Shen Yuan surging up against him.  Luo Binghe takes it eagerly, sucking on Shen Yuan’s bottom lip and licking into his mouth as much as he can. Shen Yuan draws back and says, “Just be careful.”

Luo Binghe is very, very careful. He finds the vials of oil and drops them on the bed, crawling between Shen Yuan’s legs as he upturns the contents onto his fingers. Shen Yuan looks apprehensive but lets Luo Binghe continue, and at the push of the first finger, he sucks in a sharp inhale.

By the time Luo Binghe is pushing in a second and teasing a third, Shen Yuan is a babbling mess again, half hard as he pulls one of the smaller pillows over his face. He tries to tell Luo Binghe to stop watching him so intently but Luo Binghe can’t help it.

Shen Yuan is ethereal in his beauty and he cannot get enough of the sight, studying which way he needs to crook his fingers to elicit sweet sounds from Shen Yuan. Luo Binghe would want to pull away the hand Shen Yuan keeps bring up to his mouth to tamp down some of his louder cries, if he wasn’t so enraptured by the thought that he was driving Shen Yuan to such a brink that he had to try and run from it.

Eventually, when he’s wrung Shen Yuan out enough, Luo Binghe takes himself in hand and slicks himself up, letting out his own groan as he touches himself to the sight of an already-ruined Shen Yuan. Shen Yuan tries to turn over but Luo Binghe wants him on his back so that he can watch every one of his actions.

“You don’t want to see my face?” Luo Binghe says, turning his voice coquettish and Shen Yuan simply rolls his eyes and tells him to get on with it, then.

The heat that welcomes him in the first press almost floors him. Luo Binghe hisses as he pushes in and Shen Yuan starts to pant, tight around him.

“Too big— too big!” Shen Yuan says, but he grabs Luo Binghe’s shoulder and clutches onto it, encouraging him to keep going. Luo Binghe tries to kiss him to soothe him but as he seats himself further, Shen Yuan’s jaw goes slack against his mouth, his fingers digging angry red marks into Luo Binghe’s shoulders.

Luo Binghe tries his best to take it slow at first, taking care not to get lost in it. By the time he’s fully seated, he feels as taut as a drawn bow. Shen Yuan is trembling underneath him, his breathing erratic, and when Luo Binghe reaches down to stroke him, he’s already so incredibly wet.

He rocks slowly in experiment, withdrawing only the slightest amount before softly thrusting back in. Shen Yuan hisses at the movement and his arm slides fully around Luo Binghe’s shoulders, pulling him down. Luo Binghe easily acquisces, pressing their torsos together as he moves his hips slow and shallow. Shen Yuan lifts his head to bury it in Luo Binghe’s shoulder and Luo Binghe cups the back of it, holding him steady as he continues to move in him.

The experience itself brings him close to divinity. Shen Yuan’s body is responsive and receptive; Shen Yuan whimpers, but he hooks a leg around Luo Binghe’s to pull him even closer as Luo Binghe rocks gently into him. It is deeply intimate and the heat builds between them, Luo Binghe’s body aflame wherever it touches Shen Yuan’s.

This time, Shen Yuan is the one to skim his teeth against Luo Binghe’s neck; he feels biting pressure just as he withdraws, and the sting of it makes Luo Binghe jerk his hips involuntarily. Shen Yuan keens at the action and bites harder, leaving a large bruise Luo Binghe will wear with pride.

Steadily, Luo Binghe starts to pick up the pace, once he knows Shen Yuan is able to fully take him. With some encouragement, Shen Yuan starts to move his hips against Luo Binghe as well, shaping a moan around Luo Binghe’s name.

The bed creaks gently underneath them and they grow sweat slick as they move against each other. Luo Binghe tilts his hips differently every time he thrusts till he manages to find the angle that has Shen Yuan whining sharply and shaking his head. With precise determination, Luo Binghe makes sure to hit that spot again and again till Shen Yuan’s eyes are wet and his body is shaking underneath him, overwrought with pleasure.

“Please,” Shen Yuan begs, but he never says what for. He just repeats over and over, chanting it as Luo Binghe continues to fuck him, sinking in deeper with each thrust. It’s not frantic and it’s not fast, but it is so intimate that they threaten to melt into each other. Luo Binghe cants his hips steady but hard, rolling them as he does so, reddening the back of Shen Yuan’s thighs. He moves his hands to Shen Yuan’s waist, awed by how they circle it.

Luo Binghe finds himself steadily getting lost in it, lost in the sensations that wash over him as they cling on to each other. He’s never felt like this before— Luo Binghe knows that he never will, not with anyone else. He wants to lay the world down at Shen Yuan’s feet and himself alongside with it, just to convince him to stay. He feels Shen Yuan’s other leg raise up and wrap around his waist out of his own volition, and Luo Binghe cannot think of any other state he’d rather be in.

Tears trickle down the corners of Shen Yuan's eyes and Luo Binghe kisses them away— Shen Yuan tugs him back in a hungry, mindless kiss that’s as filthy as it is sweet and wanting. A whip coils tighter within Luo Binghe, and he feels himself coming close to the edge. Not wanting to leave Shen Yuan behind, he reaches down for him again, stroking him fast in counter point to the way he fucks him.

“Ah, ah—!” Shen Yuan tries to form proper words but Luo Binghe is tormenting him too much. Luo Binghe wants to dissolve his coherency completely so he increases the pace of both his hand and his lower half, till Shen Yuan’s eyes are rolling back in his head. Luo Binghe takes no mercy, moving until Shen Yuan is coming with a loud cry, making a mess between the two of them.

Luo Binghe follows shortly behind; he means to pull out but Shen Yuan tightens the grip he has with his leg as he comes, so Luo Binghe spills within him, hips stuttering and his thrusts going erratic as pleasure bursts through him. His orgasm is strong enough to make his vision go blurry for a moment, his nerves lighting up at the unreal sensation.Stars are still bursting in front of him and he rides the two of them out through their finish, a low hum settling in his ear drums.

By the time he’s finally slowed to a halt, almost soft, the only thing that can be heard in the room is the sound of their heavy panting. Luo Binghe’s head spins with how hard he was hit by the gratification of it all. He finally slumps forward and Shen Yuan limply accepts him into his embrace, his legs sliding off Luo Binghe.

Luo Binghe doesn’t want to pull out. Shen Yuan is over sensitive, they both are, but he doesn’t push Luo Binghe out either. Instead, he cards his fingers through Luo Binghe’s hair, this time in a more soothing manner, scritching his scalp gently. Luo Binghe looks at him and faintly wonders what Shen Yuan is thinking. Shen Yuan in turn simply blinks at him, before reaching upward and pressing a kiss against the corner of Luo Binghe’s mouth.

He smiles at Luo Binghe then, softly in a manner that does nothing to slow down Luo Binghe’s heart rate. Then he frowns for a moment, before his eyes widen.

“Again?” He says, surprise lacing his voice and Luo Binghe grows sheepish. He just finished, but he’s already half hard— he wishes he could say it was the demon blood in him, but he thinks that it is really just Shen Yuan’s effect on him.

Shen Yuan rolls his eyes but draws him close, and for one, fleeting night, Luo Binghe finally feels like all is right in his world.

Except, one thought lingers.

It is the dead of the night when Luo Binghe stirs. Shen Yuan is fast asleep beside him, snoring lightly, a thin line of drool trickling down; he has one hand splayed on his own chest and one arm laid across Luo Binghe’s. Luo Binghe gently pushes his arm off and Shen Yuan barely reacts, completely knocked out from their activities.

Moonlight streams in through the window; it casts a glow over Shen Yuan, making him look even more like a deity. Luo Binghe wants to trap them in this moment, encase it in amber and remove its temporality. But even he cannot freeze time— however, there is something else.

He had found out about it a fortnight back, when he had been hunting through his private library with determination. It had been hidden in a dusty scroll, one where the ink had half-faded from the long wooden tablets. Luo Binghe had tucked it away before someone else could find it, and at first, the thought of doing what the scroll had suggested sat uneasy within him.

(Yet, perhaps not as much as he would like to think— two days later, he had called for one of the tailors in the palace, a chicken-headed demon too terrified to not be discreet and meticulous.)

The more he spent his days with Shen Yuan, the more the idea started to creep into the forefront of his mind, especially when he would catch Shen Yuan looking. He loves Shen Yuan— Luo Binghe has known this since he was fourteen. But tonight was different. Tonight, Shen Yuan reciprocated his affections and made it known that at least physically, he was willing to intertwine himself with Luo Binghe.

Their clothes lie in a haphazard pile at the foot of the bed, a mess of blue, black silk and white bamboo cloth. Luo Binghe picks them carefully, folding them neatly over his desk. Luo Binghe separates out Shen Yuan’s clothing from his as unsurity rises in his throat. He knows he wants this. There is no question of that. He just does not know if he would be able to handle the way Shen Yuan would look at him if he found out. Shen Yuan stirs in the small distance behind him.

“Binghe…” Shen Yuan’s voice rasps but when Luo Binghe looks over his shoulder, his eyes are still closed. He seems to be speaking in his sleep and he shuffles slightly, kicking a blanket off. The moon is still large in the sky, washing its pale light over his nude body. Luo Binghe’s throat goes dry, even though he has already taken so much.

He turns his attention back to the neatly folded clothing.

Luo Binghe loves Shen Yuan. Closing his eyes and exhaling, Luo Binghe softly prays that it is enough.

Shen Yuan does not notice at first.

That in itself is of some small comfort. In the morning, he slips on his robes and while he frowns, Luo Binghe distracts him rather quickly with breakfast, a snowy bowl of simple congee that he had used to make to comfort himself when he was a disciple. Shen Yuan looks exhausted but pleased at the food, and a little embarrassed when their fingers brush at first. He’s so focused on trying to keep his face around Luo Binghe that he doesn’t notice that the texture of his undershirt is different in the most infinitesimal manner.

Shen Yuan does not notice after breakfast either— that is more intentional on Luo Binghe’s part. They kiss luxuriously on the daybed through the morning, Shen Yuan complaining that he’s too sore for Luo Binghe to get worked up again. Luo Binghe manages to calm himself, just happy to be able to bask in Shen Yuan’s presence. The rest of the day passes like that, sweet and syrupy in the way newfound love tends to be and by the end of the night, they’re a tangled sweaty mess between Luo Binghe’s sheets again.

Days pass like this, and Luo Binghe does not think he’s ever felt this much joy in his life. Shen Yuan slides seamlessly into his life and the members of Luo Binghe’s palace continue to give them a wide berth and treat Shen Yuan with utmost respect, lest they incur the same wrath as his captor. The nights too, are idyllic, spent in each other’s embrace, intimacy rolling between them, whether in the form of more physical activities, or simple conversations till they drift off to sleep.

Shen Yuan continues to refuse Luo Binghe’s attempts to provide him new clothes though. That serves as a stark reminder to Luo Binghe that Shen Yuan has not yet chosen to remain here permanently out of his own will. It hangs in the back of Luo Binghe’s mind at all times— he simply wishes for the day where Shen Yuan would finally accept his gifts, and his guilt would be assuaged.

Yet, despite all their lovely days together, that time never comes. Luo Binghe waits with bated breath, and if Shen Yuan catches him worrying, he simply brushes it off, tells him that he is just thinking about his duties, thinking about the stirrings of rebellions occurring in the north. When that happens, Shen Yuan pats him before folding him into his arms and for some time after, Luo Binghe can pretend that everything is as it should be.

However, nothing good ever lasts. Not for wretched creatures like Luo Binghe.

Luo Binghe is discovered one morning, just over a month after they first sleep together. Shen Yuan has all but moved into his chambers, but Luo Binghe wakes to find his bed empty. He thinks nothing of it at first, taking his time to rise as his attendants trickle in to help him get ready for his day.

By the time he is ready for the day, he decides to go seek out Shen Yuan. He hears from one of the guards that the young master has gone to one of the smaller courtyards to look at the flowers. Luo Binghe thinks nothing of it, and makes a stop by the kitchens to pick up a small wooden box of osmanthus jellies to share. The day is cool, the beginnings of autumn rolling in, but no less fragrant and beautiful.

However, when he steps into the courtyard, a less serene sight greets him. Luo Binghe almost drops the jellies, and his stomach falls out as he sees a frantic Shen Yuan pace around the yard, the upper half of his robes a torn mess, scratches all over his body.

At first, Luo Binghe thinks the worst has happened— that Shen Yuan has been attacked. Rage roars within him ferociously, calling for the head of whoever hurt him, but he rushes to Shen Yuan first, dropping the jellies onto a bench as he reaches for him.

“Laoshi,” he calls out, grabbing Shen Yuan by the elbow and Shen Yuan whips around, face frantic.

“Binghe—!” he exclaims, waving his arms frantically. “Binghe— I can’t— I can’t—”

Luo Binghe has survived in part thanks to impeccable control over his own expression when he wants to exercise it. When he sees Shen Yuan’s eyes go wide in panic, he knows this is one of those moments. Keeping his face calm but concerned, he tries to stroke Shen Yuan’s arms soothingly.

“Laoshi,” Luo Binghe tries to call him. Shen Yuan seems to come back as he catches sight of Luo Binghe, then he’s grabbing him by the collar.

“I can’t transform,” Shen Yuan hisses, and Luo Binghe raises his eyebrows. “Binghe, I can’t transform anymore.”

“You can’t?” Luo Binghe says, and Shen Yuan shakes his head. “Are you feeling well?”

He raises a hand to Shen Yuan’s forehead and Shen Yuan smacks it away, looking incensed. Immediately after, he gives Luo Binghe an apologetic look as he says in a quiet voice, “Sorry, I got scared. Yes, I’m feeling well, I just feel…” He rubs his own biceps, looking at the ground, feeling for the first time that the texture of what he is wearing is not the same thing he has always worn. Something incredibly, incredibly close, but not quite.

“It feels like my qi has been hidden. I can’t feel anything in my veins, I can’t…” Shen Yuan trails off and shudders, dropping his hands to the side.

Luo Binghe knows what he cannot do. Guilt resonates within him loudly as he folds Shen Yuan into his embrace, murmuring that it will be alright.

You do not deserve this, a small voice tells himself in the back of his head. But Luo Binghe ignores it— he has not deserved anything he has gotten, as hard as he has fought for it. And yet here it remains in his hands; here he is, unwilling to let go.

Shen Yuan is convinced someone in the palace stole his robe as an act of subterfuge, wanting to trap him here. He even posits that it was his captor, who must have done something degenerate while Shen Yuan had been knocked unconscious. Luo Binghe makes a big show of finding and tearing through the deceased captors belongings, only to come up empty handed.

He does not ask Shen Yuan why he was leaving, or where he was going. Luo Binghe is afraid that if he does, he’ll show his hand too easily. So instead, he demands his people tear the palace apart to find the thin white undershirt that allowed Shen Yuan to transform into a crane and fly away. He even declares a bounty amongst his court, and pays thrice as much to the tailor to keep quiet.

To distract himself, Luo Binghe focuses on the uprising in the north. Mobei-Jun had quelled it initially but he has been distracted nowadays, so it has managed to creep further towards Luo Binghe’s palace. They might ultimately end up at Luo Binghe’s doorstep; Luo Binghe does not care. He can fight them. All he is focused on is hiding his secret from Shen Yuan, and swallowing down his conflicting feelings.

In the meanwhile, he helps Shen Yuan look through his private library for any information on how he can undergo the transformation process without his robe. They hunt too, to see if there’s a way Shen Yuan can locate it, draw it out and sense its presence. Both those questions are fruitless; Luo Binghe knows, because he had spent a lot of time researching as well.

Shen Yuan starts to withdraw into himself; he still saves a smile for Luo Binghe, but he does not seem to be as carefree as he was earlier. He spends more and more time trying to investigate the disappearance of the robe; Luo Binghe gives Shen Yuan free reign of the palace so that he can find it. Shen Yuan finds comfort in Luo Binghe’s embrace, but it is missing its previous serenity. Some nights, after Luo Binghe wrings them both out, Shen Yuan will sit by the window of the chambers and stare out, instead of falling asleep. Slowly, Shen Yuan seems to fall into some sort of anger.

He snaps at Luo Binghe one day, when Luo Binghe insists that he tries to eat a tofu dish that he made. Immediately, Shen Yuan apologizes, though Luo Binghe attempts to shoulder the blame. Shen Yuan shakes his head and tells Luo Binghe that it isn’t his fault that Shen Yuan has been trapped.

“My robes were a part of me,” Shen Yuan explains, his gaze faraway. “It’s like losing a limb. I feel worse than a useless human.”

Shen Yuan tries to trace back all the times he’s bathed, or gone to the hot springs. He’s never suspected the times that their clothes had ended up in a messy pile on the floor of Luo Binghe’s chambers, because he knew that Luo Binghe was the one to clear those up. The trust there, coupled with Shen Yuan’s slowly retreating personality, weighs heavy on Luo Binghe.

Guilt eats at Luo Binghe, having placed this invisible cage around Shen Yuan. It is enough that it makes him want to come clean and admit what he has done— but the more the days roll on, the deeper the hole he’s dug gets. A fortnight after Shen Yuan’s robes go missing, Luo Binghe knows that it is too late to admit it to Shen Yuan, not without Shen Yuan going apoplectic. Shen Yuan would truly hate him then— as Luo Binghe deserved.

He needs to tell him. Or he needs to give Shen Yuan his robes back— either option seems like it’ll have Shen Yuan disappearing out of Luo Binghe’s life for a long period of time. Luo Binghe still wants to know where he planned to go; he tries to prod and ask him, and Shen Yuan only tells him it doesn’t matter, because they cannot do anything about it. Shen Yuan spends more and more time sitting in the courtyard, staring at the sky, or gazing longingly out of the window of their chambers at night.

Luo Binghe has done many terrible things. Blood soaks his hands; it was the only way he could crawl out of the abyss, out of his station in life. However, nothing has made him feel as terrible as this. His love is too obsessive, too impure for a deity like Shen Yuan.

Eventually, Luo Binghe manages to formulate a plan to return Shen Yuan his robes without Shen Yuan ever finding out it was him. Whatever happens will deal a blow to Luo Binghe. He is acutely aware of that. But he devises something that will hopefully lessen the amount of damage. It is not a perfect plan, but he is hoping that it means that eventually, after Shen Yuan leaves, he may eventually come back to Luo Binghe.

(He knows he’s being optimistic. It must come to an end; it always does.)

Except things never play out perfectly; it is one of the fundamental laws of the universe.

Luo Binghe’s original plan is to simply place the robes in Shen Yuan’s chambers, leaving them there til he eventually stumbles across them. While it will be obvious that’s not where they always would have been, at least Shen Yuan will be assuaged by the fact that they are back.

Luo Binghe has never stored the robes in one place in perpetuity, too paranoid that either Shen Yuan would find them, or they would get destroyed. So he has been moving them, from an empty guest chamber to an intricate safe to a secret compartment behind a shelf full of books in his chambers. He chooses a night to return the robes, not quite making peace with the idea that when Shen Yuan finds them in the morning, it may be the last time Luo Binghe sees him in a long while.

That night, Luo Binghe tenderly presses Shen Yuan into the mattress, taking his time in taking him apart piece by piece, memorizing every corner of his body. Shen Yuan is languid underneath him and opens up for him beautifully, clinging on to Luo Binghe as they move together, moaning his name softly into the night. Luo Binghe’s eyes grow wet and hot as they build up towards a rolling climax and come undone within moments of each other. Shen Yuan doesn’t let him go after, holding on to him, burying his face in Luo Binghe’s shoulder as he tries to regain his breath.

Luo Binghe does not leave til he’s absolutely sure Shen Yuan is asleep. As Shen Yuan drifts off, face buried against Luo Binghe’s chest, his own heart aches. Once he feels Shen Yuan’s heartbeat slow down and his breaths even out, Luo Binghe continues to hold onto him, taking in the last of these moments. He does not know when he will get them next— if he will get them next. Shen Yuan may long for freedom so badly at this point that it would surpass anything Luo Binghe would offer him.

Eventually, he needs to tear himself away. He can only steal so many of these nights. Luo Binghe slides out of Shen Yuan’s grasp, making sure he’s comfortable against the pillow and not roused from his slumber. Shen Yuan looks so peaceful, and Luo Binghe knows he has committed a sin by secretly disrupting it. Once he slides out of bed, Luo Binghe slides his pants on and throws on a black silk robe, pinning it with a thin belt and not bothering with any undershirt. He needs to be quick with this, in case Shen Yuan wakes up at any point.

He retrieves Shen Yuan’s robes from their latest hiding place, curled tightly within an ancient tube that once held a scroll for ancient necromancy spells, before some lesser official lost it three hundred years before Luo Binghe’s time. Luo Binghe makes it all the way to the room, manages to tug the robes out and fold them into the neat square. He places them on top of the small table in the center of the chambers with care, and stares at them for a few moments.

Maybe Shen Yuan will be able to sense who kept them here. Maybe he’ll know immediately that it was Luo Binghe that had stolen his robes. Perhaps Luo Binghe has not been as subtle as he thinks, and Shen Yuan has just been waiting for him to admit it. A thousand scenarios run through his head of what may or will happen— all of them are sharply interrupted by the resounding sound of a battle horn.

There is a loud BOOM in the distance and Luo Binghe immediately goes on alert. The sound of a crash and a roar follow shortly through, as does the thundering of steps and Luo Binghe grabs the robes, materializing Xin Mo beside him. He kicks down the door to the chambers, stepping out into the courtyard only to find that the palace is under siege.

The poacher that Luo Binghe had killed so many months ago was not some mere villager from the hinterlands, or the son of a traveling merchant. He had come from old royalty himself, a noble family with a fervent following that had been pushed out by Luo Binghe’s growing reign. They had been trying to get back in his good graces, with offers of manpower, useless resources, and potential courtships he had no interest in, but they did not take kindly to the third son being murdered in Luo Binghe’s court.

So in a last bid for power, they have attempted to lay waste to Luo Binghe’s palace. An army swarms the palace grounds, savage beasts barrelling in behind them with a thirst for blood. An exceptionally grotesque and hairy demon leads the charge, swinging a fiery chain mace in the air as they declare that they are bringing death to the door of the saintly ruler.

Luo Binghe’s own army swarms out, weapons drawn. They are never caught off guard— within a week of Luo Binghe taking the throne, he had faced multiple onslaughts much worse than this, full of demons testing his mettle. As he runs through the palace grounds, he feels the temperature in the air drop rapidly and knows that his right hand man has already materialized, probably vexed at being roused in the middle of his slumber.

None of this would have been of concern before— Luo Binghe, for all the gentleman that he is, does not hesitate to draw blood. Nor does he hesitate to tear down whoever is in his path, dealing unto them a hundredfold for what they do to him. However, he has never had something he has wanted to protect so badly before, not since the death of his mother.

Luo Binghe shouts out his commands to his passing generals as he barrels towards his chambers, determined to get to Shen Yuan before anything else does. The members of his palace do not talk much, but he never trusts anyone fully. If someone has revealed that Luo Binghe has a weak spot, that would be the first place his enemies would go.

When he bursts through the doors, Shen Yuan is just rising, looking disheveled and frantic.

“What—” Shen Yuan starts as Luo Binghe rushes towards him, so disoriented that he doesn’t fully take in his surroundings. Luo Binghe grabs Shen Yuan’s outer silk robe and tosses it towards him, before pulling his sword off its mount on the wall.

“I need to get you to safety,” Luo Binghe says as Shen Yuan hurriedly throws on his robes. Shen Yuan takes the sword from Luo Binghe and slides out of bed, teetering slightly. He stares at Luo Binghe for a moment and Luo Binghe opens his mouth, but before he can even think of what to say, there’s a loud thump thump right outside his window.

Luo Binghe jumps forward and yanks Shen Yuan out of the way; they fall onto the ground, Luo Binghe shielding Shen Yuan with his body as a large beast bursts through the window of his chambers, the wall crumbling around it easily. The beast is an armoured spider, as large as three warhorses and it screeches like a human woman, shrill and painful. For its size, it moves fast— Luo Binghe only barely manages to duck out of its way as it leaps forward; the hairs on the spider's legs are razor sharp, and Luo Binghe feels pain rip through his bicep as it tears through his silk.

He pays it no mind; his priority is Shen Yuan, who’s currently yelling his name. Luo Binghe leaps to his feet and spins, brandishing Xin Mo as the spider screeches again. His arm starts to burn but he ignores it, throwing Xin Mo into the air. Using his qi, he drives the sword down, skewering the beast’s head. Acidic blood splatters everywhere and on instinct, Luo Binghe throws the white undershirt he’s holding at Shen Yuan before it can get damaged.

His own robes start to eat away and his skin stings; he whistles and Xin Mo yanks itself out as the beast stumbles forward, not quite dead. Luo Binghe grabs his sword by the hilt and leaps up, narrowly dodging a venomous spitball from the dying creature and landing on top of its body. He wrenches Xin Mo down, finding the sliver of exposed flesh underneath the armoured bristles and yanks, finally beheading the creature.

It slumps forward, its head rolling off to the side and the cut on Luo Binghe’s side feels like a white hot flame has erupted against it. Luo Binghe grits his teeth as he staggers off the dead body, gripping his arm as he drags his feet towards Shen Yuan. A sharp stinging sensation bursts through Luo Binghe’s arm, causing his vision to vignette.

Shen Yuan, in the meanwhile, stands there, completely stunned as he holds his robes. He does not reach for Luo Binghe, not immediately.

“You… you found my robes?” Shen Yuan says, his voice small, and Luo Binghe cannot hide his expression quick enough this time, not through the pain that is whipping its way through his veins. Realization dawns upon Shen Yuan and he steps back, wide eyed.

“Go,” Luo Binghe wheezes, trying to straighten up. Xin Mo is vibrating in his hand, eager for more blood, eager to curl some of its darkness around his heart. It is that darkness that Luo Binghe wishes he could blame his actions on, but he knows he cannot. “Find safety. I have told them to seed clouds, if you fly under them no one will catch you. You deserve to be free.”

“You…” Shen Yuan still gawps at Luo Binghe. His knuckles are white around his robe, as pale as the fabric.

“I’m sorry, laoshi— I didn’t mean to—” Luo Binghe starts, before another resounding crash rings out in the near distance. Luo Binghe whips around, immediately throwing his sword up but the aggressor is a mere figure in the distance, getting torn apart by a few of his soldiers. He needs to run into the fray now, and put an end to this once and for all. He looks over his shoulder to tell Shen Yuan that he had done it out of love, and to please escape before anything else targets them.

But when he looks back, Shen Yuan has already disappeared.

The battle is tough when the venom in his arm courses through the rest of his body; it is tougher, when his heart is rending itself into pieces, because of his own doing.

Shen Yuan has disappeared so completely that Luo Binghe cannot tell where he’s gone; for a fleeting moment, Luo Binghe regrets not feeding him blood parasites, before he remembers that entrapment is what got him into this mess to begin with. He manages to drag himself out of his chambers and into the fray of the fight, his heart eclipsed by the knowledge that he has potentially lost Shen Yuan forever.

That anger that Luo Binghe has towards himself, he channels outwards as he fights, tearing down as many enemy soldiers as he can. The mark on his forehead glows harshly, the red of it creeping into his eyes as he tries to circulate the venom out while fighting up to ten demons off at one time. Xin Mo is thrumming with excitement as it feeds on the chaos, and Luo Binghe continues to cut down the throngs of attackers.

By the time he has made it to the demon that is leading the charge, the skin around his wound has died, turning a purplish black as it festers. Luo Binghe can barely move the arm but holds his own, the tendrils from his mark slowly uncurling across his forehead. His soldiers and his guards will hold their own— this, he is not afraid of. The emotional turmoil that churns within him is inspired by something else, someone else who he hopes has long flown away.

He had expected Shen Yuan to leave if he ever found out what Luo Binghe did— this is no surprise. However, there was part of Luo Binghe that had hoped that Shen Yuan would stay, that he would be charmed by how attached Luo Binghe is to him. It was an unrealistic hope, but one that Luo Binghe had nurtured anyway, foolishly. Shen Yuan is gone forever though, their last night together bookended by both guilt and carnage.

At the very least, all Luo Binghe can do is pray that Shen Yuan has escaped.

The core of the battle occurs in the grand courtyard; they often do, as demons want to fight their way up the steps and towards the throne. No one has made it to the top of the steps; this army is no different, the leader only halfway up. Luo Binghe is in a terrible mood by the time he comes face to face with the demon, his injured arm dangling uselessly by his side.

His patience has worn thin, and there is nothing he wants to do more than drink a thousand jars of wine before passing out into a drunken, depressed stupor. The leader of the charge has other plans, beginning a long monologue as Luo Binghe drags himself up the stairs. Luo Binghe doesn’t pay much attention to it; whether demon or human, warmongers are never creative when it comes to their grand statements.

Luo Binghe whistles lowly, and Xin Mo rises out of his hand into the air, black qi swirling around it. His mark grows hot on his forehead and he hones in on his target, who’s continuing to proselytize. It is then that his decaying arm locks up, and pain shoots through the entirety of Luo Binghe’s body.

He does not notice at first, already used to fighting through the pain. However, a wall starts to build between his mind and the rest of his body as it starts to lock up and lose function; Luo Binghe stutters over the steps and notices too late that the leader was merely a decoy. A lithe figure composed entirely of shadows stands behind them, raising a fist and curling it, bringing Luo Binghe down to his knees.

Luo Binghe grits his teeth and uses all of his efforts to keep Xin Mo floating; in the distance, his own army continues to fight off the other, the smell of blood rising high into the air. The pain works through his veins sharply, more ferociously than before. Luo Binghe’s mark sears now against his skin, and he grunts with the effort it takes to try and simply keep control over Xin Mo. Sweat rolls down his body and his vision starts to blur as he hears laughter from a few steps above him, a derisive and shrill thing.

It triggers a deep-seated anger within him; the leader swings their mace and the spiked, fiery ball detaches off the chain, hurtling towards Luo Binghe like a meteor. It never makes it to Luo Binghe— there is a flurry of blue and the ball shatters, flaming metal spraying everywhere. At the same time, using the last of his energy, Luo Binghe sharply whistles again and sends Xin Mo careening forward. The enemy tries to raise a shield but Xin Mo is fast, and splits into a thousand swords that cut through the air, skewering everyone on the steps and dissipating the shadow.

Luo Binghe tries to look up, tries to see who was the one who so effortlessly blocked the attack, and sees the back of a tall, elegant figure, sword drawn to the side and long black hair drifting in the breeze as feathers float in the air. His mind is swimming— for some strange reason, hope rears itself in his head before the pain finally takes over, overwhelming him enough that he feels his eyes closing and his consciousness falling into a deep oblivion.

It is not a surprise to him when he wakes up alone.

The sun streams in through the window of his room as Luo Binghe stirs, his head pounding and his mouth dry as sand. He blinks, his vision blurred for a moment before the ornate ceiling of his chambers snap back into focus. Luo Binghe sits up, sheets falling off his freshly bandaged body. He can heal his wounds quicker if he wants— however, there’s an ache in his chest that’s ringing like a bell, distracting him.

“Junshang,” comes a meek voice from the corner of the room, and Luo Binghe merely grunts in the direction of the servant. A tray is immediately brought to his side with a pitcher of water that he gulps down quickly. He wants to ask about Shen Yuan, but he knows that the answer will have him throwing his cup against the wall, if not the poor servant.

So instead, he gives the servant a curt, “Leave me.”

“I shall retrieve the palace physician,” the servant says, bowing low. The tone of Luo Binghe’s voice already has an effect on them, sweat beading at their forehead.

“You shall do no such thing,” Luo Binghe says and he sees the servant open their mouth for a moment, before thinking better of it. “Leave. Allow no one in.”

They obey immediately, leaving Luo Binghe alone in his chambers.

He remembers the events in sharp clarity. The pain of it, the frustration, the disbelief that Shen Yuan had come back to protect him. Him, despite all that he had done. However, Luo Binghe is not entirely delusional; Shen Yuan is a kind man. Perhaps he had seen what state Luo Binghe was in, and had committed one last undeserved act of grace towards Luo Binghe before disappearing forever.

Idly, he presses a finger into his bandaged arm, right where he can feel the deep wound. It stings dully and when he pushes further, the gauze under his finger starts to grow damp.

Luo Binghe does not deserve the attention of Shen Yuan. He knows that much. Perhaps if he hadn’t ensnared him like he did, Shen Yuan would have been inclined to at least visit him now and then, even if fleeting. He was too capricious, too greedy. And now he may have lost the only person who’s ever shown him kindness, and rightfully so. Luo Binghe’s throat constricts but he finishes the rest of his water.

This time he does launch the pitcher against the wall; the shattering clay only gives him some semblance of satisfaction. He wants to destroy this whole room— this whole palace. He should have let it go up in flames. Everything he’s achieved feels hollow, if the person he worked so hard for isn’t here.

Something glints in the distance, and catches his eye through the dark cloud of his mood. It’s sitting on his desk and he squints; he cannot tell what it is, but sees that it shines a faded green in the sunlight, placed neatly on a pile of his folded clothes. Mildly curious, he slides out of his bed. When he approaches his desk and sees what it is, the realization punches the air out of him. He reaches for the jade pendant, his fingers trembling lightly as he picks it up, recognising the cord, the defect on the Guan Yin’s face all too familiar even after all these years.

Before he can say anything, there’s a loud banging on the doors of his chambers. His head snaps up in its direction and Luo Binghe tenses, his roiling emotions suddenly finding a new target. He can feel his fingers crackle with energy, twitching upwards towards the door. Then it flies open, and Luo Binghe freezes as the intruder storms in, shaking off clamouring servants.

“You’re awake!” Shen Yuan exclaims and Luo Binghe watches bug-eyed as Shen Yuan spreads his arms, soft blue robes billowing around him. Then he seems to remember where he is and comes screeching to a halt. Luo Binghe, for whom the world had suddenly narrowed and come to a standstill, has enough foresight to bark at his servants to leave the room. They look uncertain, but Luo Binghe levels them with a look they dare not disobey, so they scurry out quickly.

The door shuts loudly behind them, leaving them alone. Another moment of silence passes, and Luo Binghe calls Shen Yuan’s name lowly. Suddenly, there’s another whirlwind of blue and Luo Binghe finds his arms full with Shen Yuan as he’s enveloped in a tight embrace. His face starts to heat but thankfully, he’s able to gather enough of his wits around him to hug back, Shen Yuan’s bony frame warm against him. He’s not got a shirt on, so the silk of Shen Yuan’s shirt soothes against the parts of his skin that aren’t wrapped in bandages.

“I thought you were a goner for sure,” Shen Yuan says, his voice muffled into Luo Binghe’s shoulder. Luo Binghe’s stomach does a funny flip at his words so he clings on tighter. “Do you know how long you were out for?!”

No, because he had chased away the servants before he could ask any questions. Luo Binghe is too embarrassed to admit to his hot temper though so he just shakes his head. Shen Yuan draws back and studies Luo Binghe’s face, tilting his head.

“Four days,” Shen Yuan replies, and Luo Binghe is too captivated by those grey-blue eyes to have much of a reaction to it. He doesn’t even question if this is still a dream— if it is, he’d rather not wake up. “I thought you were dead at first.”

Luo Binghe is speechless, a thousand thoughts running through his head at one time. “You stayed.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Shen Yuan says indignantly, shoving Luo Binghe’s shoulder gently. Grudgingly, Luo Binghe lets go. “I wasn’t going to leave you in that state!”

Ah.

Luo Binghe feels his heart fall in his chest at the words. Of course Shen Yuan would stay and make sure Luo Binghe was alright— he was simply that kind natured. He wouldn’t have left an injured Luo Binghe. However, now that Luo Binghe is healed—

“What is this?” Shen Yuan exclaims, and Luo Binghe follows where he’s gesturing to the wound he had pressed into. There’s a red patch there from where the blood freshly bloomed, and Shen Yuan grimaces. He seems concerned enough that he drops formality from his voice as he says, “Go sit over there and wait for me.”

Obediently, Luo Binghe takes a seat on his daybed while Shen Yuan potters around for a moment in the distance. He blinks repeatedly, and clenches his fist, digging his nails into the skin of his palm harshly. It does not wake him up from any kind of dream.

Shen Yuan sits down beside him, with a washbasin and medicines in his hand. He looks gingerly at the bandage around Luo Binghe’s before reaching forward and slicing through it with a blade. Both of them grimace as the bloodied gauze falls away and the sharp stench of medicinal herbs suddenly makes itself known. Shen Yuan makes a face as he tosses the old bandages on the ground and dips a cloth in the wash basin.

“It doesn’t look as terrifying as before,” Shen Yuan says, gently dabbing at the wound. It’s fresh and red, and Luo Binghe hisses, less at the touch and more at the hand Shen Yuan rests on Luo Binghe’s forearm to balance himself. “At least your arm isn’t decaying anymore.”

He could circulate his energy and heal himself in an instant if he wanted to. But instead, Luo Binghe lets Shen Yuan clean the wound meticulously and gently, watching every time Shen Yuan lets out a soft curse.

“Thank you,” Luo Binghe murmurs as Shen Yuan sets down the now-bloodied cloth, and picks up a small jar of ointment.

“You need to be more careful,” Shen Yuan scolds gently, swiping some of the salve and swiping it over the wound. It’s a refreshing sting, and the smell of the medicine is pungent enough to make both their noses wrinkle. “You almost lost this arm.”

“I shall keep that in mind next time we’re under attack,” Luo Binghe replies dryly, and Shen Yuan’s gaze snaps up to meet him, a retort clearly on his tongue. It seems to fade the moment their eyes meet, and Luo Binghe feels his heart turn funny in his chest. Shen Yuan coughs and says “Impudent” before he ducks his head and focuses on applying more ointment.

They remain in silence as Shen Yuan finishes his work, Luo Binghe watching him work with deep focus. He wants to know what had drawn Shen Yuan back, what had convinced him to stay, only for a little while. Luo Binghe does not know if he deserves an answer. When Shen Yuan finishes pinning his fresh bandage, looking satisfied with his work, Luo Binghe pipes up again.

“Laoshi,” Luo Binghe calls to him, and Shen Yuan doesn’t quite meet his eyes as he responds with a, “What?”

“I am sorry,” The words are simple. Luo Binghe could fill books with all that he wants to tell Shen Yuan, but he can only be granted that space. He cannot take it. “I do not know how to apologize in a way that will even begin to make up for what I did.”

Shen Yuan sighs and sets the basin down, pushing it to the side so that the water does not spill. He does not turn back towards Luo Binghe; he straightens up in his seat instead, folding his hands on top of his lap. Shen Yuan fidgets for a moment, and Luo Binghe thinks of the Guan Yin pendant he still holds in his other hand.

He remembers exactly when he lost it, and where. He has considered razing down Cang Qiong many times, but had promised himself that he would find the pendant first. Qing Jing would have been the first to go if he didn’t. But it seems that it has been safeguarded by someone else instead, for all these years.

“All you had to do was ask,” Shen Yuan finally says, and his voice is quiet. Luo Binghe’s heart thumps in his chest.

“I know,” Luo Binghe replies. I was afraid you would leave me anyway. “I was afraid…”

“It is in my nature to fly away, Binghe,” Shen Yuan says gently after Luo Binghe trails off. “But flying away for some time is not abandonment.”

Luo Binghe clutches the pendant tighter, as his breath catches in his throat. His eyes feel hot, and he swallows lightly at Shen Yuan’s statement. He does not know how to reply to this— and he does not want to scare Shen Yuan away. So instead, he holds up the Guan Yin pendant, watching the way it catches the light.

“Did you keep this?” His voice feels small now. “All these years?”

They are not looking at each other, but Luo Binghe is incredibly aware of Shen Yuan’s presence. A long moment later, Luo Binghe feels delicate fingers curl over his wrist, a thumb rubbing a soothing circle against one of his knuckles.

“Binghe,” Shen Yuan says, his voice soft. “All you have to do is ask.”

The words have Luo Binghe turning in his seat to meet Shen Yuan; without thinking, his body slumps forward and he wraps his arms around the other man. Shen Yuan lets out a fond sigh, wrapping one hand around Luo Binghe’s shoulder and reaching up to pat his head with the other as Luo Binghe hooks his chin over Shen Yuan’s shoulder. He wants to bury his face in Shen Yuan’s neck and inhale. He does not want to let him go.

“I want to be by your side,” Luo Binghe says, and Shen Yuan cards his fingers through his hair.

“If I fly away, that is not me leaving you,” Shen Yuan says again. “I will return to you, Luo Binghe, if you choose to be my home.”

The words gut Luo Binghe. He is willing to be Shen Yuan’s anything, as long as Shen Yuan is willing to have him. He recognises the chance that he is being given, and Luo Binghe grasps onto it tightly with both hands.

“Let me come with you,” he begs. “Please. I will go anywhere you want.”

“You want me to carry you around everywhere like a baby?” Shen Yuan retorts, amused, even though Luo Binghe is serious. He can rule the realm from anywhere; there is no reason that he cannot be wherever Shen Yuan is. “You cannot abscond whenever you’d like just to fly around with your… your…”

“My consort?” Luo Binghe says with a renewed hope just as Shen Yuan says, “…your old teacher.”

Shen Yuan goes pink at the words, but he does not scold Luo Binghe. Instead, he clears his throat awkwardly, patting Luo Binghe’s head again, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“And maybe that.” Shen Yuan says, but then shakes his head. “You cannot just leave your duties, Luo Binghe.”

“I can do whatever I want,” Luo Binghe replies, voice somewhat petulant. “I am the saintly ruler of this realm.”

He says it with so much conviction, that Shen Yuan pauses for a moment, then bursts out laughing. Even Luo Binghe can’t help but smile, the prickling heat in the corner of his eyes forming into tears as he feels both the rumble of Shen Yuan laughing and insurmountable relief swoop through him. Luo Binghe does give in to his desire to bury his face into Shen Yuan’s neck then, inhaling deeply as he clutches on to him.

Shen Yuan gently pushes Luo Binghe off, cupping his face in his hands, making a noise as he thumbs away the dampness at Luo Binghe’s lashes. Teasingly, he says, “Aren’t you too big to cry over these things?”

In response, Luo Binghe simply leans in to kiss him, sweet and gentle as his heart overflows.