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The silken sheets of Paradise Manor’s bed were thoroughly ruined, tangled in knots around Xie Lian’s aching legs. His hair clung to his sweat-damp neck as he flopped onto his back, chest heaving. Hua Cheng hovered above him, grinning like a wolf who’d found the juiciest lamb in the realm, his outer crimson robe hanging open to reveal that infuriatingly perfect torso.
“Gege,” Hua Cheng purred, tracing a finger down Xie Lian’s trembling thigh. “Just one more. This husband will make it worth your while.”
Xie Lian groaned, throwing an arm over his face. “San Lang… please… it’s been hours.” His voice came out hoarse, throat raw from earlier… activities.
“Gegeeeee,” Hua Cheng drawled, dragging out the syllable like a plea as his fingers danced along Xie Lian’s hip—lighter now, teasing rather than demanding. “This husband will be gentle. So gentle you’ll hardly feel a thing.”
Xie Lian did feel it—the slow, deliberate drag of Hua Cheng’s thumb over his inner thigh, the way his breath ghosted over the shell of his ear. His traitorous body shuddered, a weak sound escaping his lips. “San Lang,” he warned, voice fraying at the edges, “I’ll… I’ll turn to ash if you don’t let me breathe—”
Hua Cheng’s lips found the pulse point beneath his jaw, soft and coaxing. “Impossible. Dianxia’s resilience puts the heavens to shame.” His hands slid beneath Xie Lian’s back, kneading the soreness there with a reverence that bordered on unfair. “Just let me take care of you. No more strenuous work, I swear it.”
Xie Lian arched into the touch despite himself, a groan caught between frustration and relief. “You said that… ahn… four rounds ago—”
“And I meant it,” Hua Cheng murmured, all innocence, as his mouth trailed lower. “This is just… appreciation. Worship. Nothing taxing.”
The lie was evident in the way his teeth grazed Xie Lian’s shoulder, in the slow roll of his hips that pressed their bodies together. Xie Lian’s legs trembled, his resolve unraveling as Hua Cheng’s hands mapped every shuddering breath, every hitch of his ribs. “San Lang,” he gasped, half-hearted protest melting into a whimper, “you’re… cheating—”
“Never.” Hua Cheng’s laughter vibrated against his throat, warm and unrepentant. “But if gege truly wants me to stop…” He stilled suddenly, pulling back just enough for Xie Lian to see the mischief in his eye. “…he’ll have to push me away. Properly.”
Xie Lian glared up at him, face flushed. His arms felt like they’d been filled with wet sand. “You know I can’t—”
“Then Dianxia concedes?” Hua Cheng’s grin widened as he pressed a kiss to Xie Lian’s knuckles, feather-light. “This humble servant accepts your surrender.”
“I’m not—ah!” Xie Lian’s retort dissolved into a breathless cry as Hua Cheng’s mouth closed over a sensitive spot below his collarbone, hands roaming with agonizing slowness. Every touch was a brand, every whispered endearment a hook in his ribs. Cruel, he thought dizzily, to be ruined so thoroughly by tenderness.
When Hua Cheng finally sheathed himself again, it was with a patience that bordered on maddening—each movement deliberate, drawn out, as if savoring the way Xie Lian unraveled beneath him. “There,” Hua Cheng breathed against his lips. “See? No strain. Only… closeness.”
Xie Lian’s nails dug into the sheets. “Liar,” he choked out, even as his hips lifted instinctively. “You’re still… ah… still moving—”
“Mm. For gege’s comfort.” Hua Cheng’s smile was all teeth, his rhythm a relentless, honeyed torment. “Would you deny this husband the joy of seeing you feel good?”
Xie Lian’s stomach roared again, louder this time—a guttural, mortifying sound that even Hua Cheng’s relentless rhythm couldn’t drown out. He seized the opportunity, slapping a palm weakly against his husband’s chest. “San Lang!” he gasped, voice cracking. “I’m hungry. Actually hungry. If you starve me to death, who will you torment tomorrow?!”
Hua Cheng paused, eye flickering with a hint of guilt. “Gege could never die from something so trivial,” he said, though his hips stilled at last. “But… if Dianxia insists on being dramatic—”
“Dramatic?!” Xie Lian squawked, gesturing wildly at the wrecked bed, his own trembling limbs. “Look at me! I’m a corpse. A—a twice-chewed sugarcane! Feed your husband or I’ll… I’ll haunt you!”
The threat dissolved into a wheeze as Hua Cheng collapsed into laughter, forehead pressed to Xie Lian’s shoulder. “Twice-chewed sugarcane,” he repeated, delight dripping from every syllable. “Gege truly has a way with words.”
“And whose fault is it that I’m reduced to sugarcane?” Xie Lian huffed, though the effect was ruined as Hua Cheng’s lips traced the curve of his shoulder, reigniting sparks beneath his skin. “I was gone two weeks, San Lang—two weeks of Heaven’s complaints and—ah!—endless petitions—”
“A tragedy,” Hua Cheng murmured, not sounding tragic at all. His hands slid possessively down Xie Lian’s sides, thumbs digging into the sore muscles of his hips. “This husband missed you so terribly, he nearly burned the heavens down to retrieve you.”
“You did burn down three courtyards,” Xie Lian gasped, back arching as Hua Cheng’s teeth nipped his jaw. “Ruoye had to—hnn—put you out—”
“A minor tantrum.” Hua Cheng’s voice dropped, his rhythm shifting to something deeper, slower, as if determined to rewrite every memory of Xie Lian’s time away. “But gege… you promised to return in five days.”
The accusation was velvet-soft, edged with eight hundred years of hunger. Xie Lian’s breath hitched—part guilt, part helpless arousal—as Hua Cheng’s fingers tangled in his hair, tilting his head back. “The—the Rain Master’s rice fields flooded,” he stammered, “and then someone cursed the—”
“Gege,” Hua Cheng interrupted, a growl rumbling in his chest as he pinned Xie Lian’s wrists above his head. “Do you truly want to discuss agriculture right now?”
Xie Lian opened his mouth to retort, but all that escaped was a shattered moan as Hua Cheng drove into him with sudden force, his control fraying. The bedframe creaked in protest, talisman-laced wood straining beneath their weight.
“San Lang—!”
“You left me starving,” Hua Cheng breathed against his throat, every syllable a confession. His hips rolled in a brutal, perfect cadence, stealing Xie Lian’s words before they formed. “Two weeks of watching you kneel before fools, smiling at their idiocy, letting them touch your sleeves—”
“They—ah!—didn’t touch—”
“—and now you expect me to be reasonable?”
Xie Lian’s laugh broke into a sob. He’d forgotten this side of him—the raw, unbridled need that lurked beneath the teasing, the centuries of devotion that tipped so easily into greed. It was overwhelming. Addicting.
“San Lang—ah!” Xie Lian’s back arched off the bed, his thighs clamping around Hua Cheng’s hips in a futile attempt to slow him. “I swear—if you don’t stop—!”
“Gege’s threats lack conviction,” Hua Cheng purred, though his pace stuttered, sweat dripping from his brow as he drank in the sight beneath him—Xie Lian’s flushed chest, his bitten-red lips, the way his eyes glazed with overstimulated pleasure. “Especially when you’re clinging to me like this.”
“Crimson Rain Sought Flower!” Xie Lian snarled, channeling the last dregs of his divine authority. It would’ve been imposing if not for the way his voice cracked, his hips lifting greedily to meet Hua Cheng’s thrusts. “I’ll—hnng—banish you to the cellar! No kisses! No touching! Just—just loneliness for a month—!”
Hua Cheng froze.
Not slowly. Not reluctantly.
Froze, as if Xie Lian had plunged E’ming into his chest.
The sudden stillness was almost worse than the relentless pace. Xie Lian squirmed, oversensitive and throbbing, Hua Cheng’s gaze burning into him like a brand. “...San Lang?”
“Gege would… lock me away?” Hua Cheng whispered, his eye wide, wounded—a masterpiece of theatrical despair. “After I waited so patiently? After I burned for you?”
Xie Lian’s resolve wavered. “I—I didn’t mean—”
“Twenty days,” Hua Cheng bargained, dropping his forehead to Xie Lian’s collarbone with a shuddering sigh. His fingers traced idle patterns over Xie Lian’s racing heart. “Let me have you twenty more times tonight, and I’ll fetch you the finest feast in three realms.”
“Twenty—?!” Xie Lian shoved at his shoulders gently, incredulous. “I said food, not another siege! Are you trying to make me ascend another time from sheer friction?!”
Hua Cheng’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. “Ten, then.”
“One.”
“Five.”
“Two.”
“Three,” Hua Cheng murmured, lips skimming Xie Lian’s throat. “And I’ll hand-feed you every bite.”
Xie Lian groaned, torn between his body’s screaming limits and the shameless, pretty creature bargaining against his better judgment.
“Three slow ones,” Xie Lian relented, glaring up at him. “And no funny business.”
Hua Cheng’s grin turned saccharine. “Would I ever?”
“Yes.”
But true to his word—mostly—Hua Cheng moved with excruciating slowness, every thrust a languid, worshipful drag that left Xie Lian clawing at the sheets. “San Lang,” he whined, torn between begging for more and shoving him off entirely, “this is—ah—worse—”
“Patience, gege,” Hua Cheng chided, kissing the pout from his lips. “This husband is savoring you.”
By the third “slow” round, Xie Lian was a boneless, trembling mess, his earlier threats forgotten in a haze of pleasure.
Xie Lian's consciousness drifted somewhere between the second and third round, his body so thoroughly wrung out that even Hua Cheng's most attentive touches couldn't keep him awake. He floated in darkness, only vaguely aware of strong arms gathering him close.
“Gege?” Hua Cheng's voice was barely a whisper, his thumb brushing gently under Xie Lian's eye. “Let me feed you before you sleep properly.”
Xie Lian made a soft noise of protest, nuzzling blindly against Hua Cheng's chest. “M'not hungry...” he mumbled, already half-gone again.
A quiet chuckle vibrated against him. “Liar.”
Then—the heavenly scent of warm congee, rich with shredded pork and spring onions. Hua Cheng's palm cradled the back of his head as he lifted him just enough to eat. “One bite,” he coaxed, holding the spoon to Xie Lian's lips. “Just one, then you can rest.”
Xie Lian obeyed without opening his eyes, letting the savory warmth flood his mouth. He swallowed with a sleepy sigh, already turning his face away. “Enough...”
“Good,” Hua Cheng murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple. He wiped Xie Lian's mouth with startling tenderness before settling them both back into the pillows. “Sleep now.”
Xie Lian curled instinctively into the heat of Hua Cheng's body, one hand fisting weakly in his robe. “Stay...”
“Always.” Hua Cheng's arms tightened around him, his breath evening out to match Xie Lian's slowing rhythm. “This husband isn't going anywhere.”
In the hazy space between waking and dreams, Xie Lian felt fingers carding gently through his hair, a quiet lullaby resonating through Hua Cheng's chest. The last thing he registered was lips brushing his forehead, and the soft whisper:
“Sweet dreams, Dianxia.”
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