Work Text:
So, the thing is, Shang Qinghua sprinkled a lot of details into Proud Immortal Demon Way along the way. To make it more interesting, to see what the readers might latch onto so he could lean into that, and (to be honest) to pad the wordcount. As he wrote the novel, he eventually started forgetting some of these details as they became irrelevant, forgotten, or simply inconvenient. Sometimes he got called out on this when it resulted in plot holes, but most readers weren’t there for consistency anyway. They were there for self indulgent papapa scenes, self indulgent revenge scenes, and self indulgent bullshit in general. A popcorn novel, from top to bottom.
But back when PIDW had had a glimmer of artistic integrity, he’d played with the idea of his world having many different languages. So often, all characters across multiple different realms and even countries would be able to effortlessly communicate with each other, even if they were from completely different cultures that barely if at all interacted. Isn’t that a little too convenient? Really, considering how separated demons and humans are from each other, it only makes sense for them to have different languages! And then from there followed the idea of different demon clans having different dialects and languages, since they were such a diverse species that liked to silo themselves off into groups…
The idea had easily spun itself out into Luo Binghe, the brilliant genius polyglot protagonist learning new languages with ease, using his silver tongue to charm and manipulate anyone he came across, mastering both his demon and human sides while also mastering their languages. It was just another way to lean into the wish fulfillment of it all, giving him yet another way to excel. But then Luo Binghe had learned basically all the languages, it got a bit repetitive to make him keep going through a phase of having to learn the newest wife’s language to woo her first, and he’d gradually let that little worldbuilding detail gather dust in the background.
By the time Shang Qinghua meets Mobei-Jun on a bloodsoaked, dusty road, he’s genuinely forgotten all about it. A few disciples have made a few jokes about how demons are so animalistic that they can’t even talk, just feral growling and guttural noises, but he’d dismissed it as bigoted idiots being bigoted idiots about the Enemy.
And then he begs for his life on his hands and knees, and Mobei-Jun looks down at him and opens his mouth -
And what comes out doesn’t sound like words at all. It sounds harsh and angry, incomprehensible noises that really do sound a little bit like a wild animal trying to speak. But Mobei-Jun looks like he’s saying words, and Shang Qinghua says, “Um.”
Luckily, crying, wailing and clinging to his future murderer’s golden thighs seems to be a universal language, and Mobei-Jun passes out before he can finish the job.
Mobei-Jun does not speak human. He does not speak human even a little bit, as Shang Qinghua has tested by saying absolutely unholy filthy things to him that should have gotten him instantly murdered, but instead only earns him a blank, annoyed stare.
“My king, please, it’s only water. It’s unpoisoned, see? See, I’ll drink some. Ahh, tasty, safe water! Please, drink it? You’re sweating so much, you’re, like, melting.” He helps Mobei-Jun drink the water. “... God I really want to lick the sweat off your neck.”
Mobei-Jun does not react. Ahaha, this is kind of fun. Except for all the ways that it’s so fucking inconvenient.
He’s been thinking over the last couple of days, and come to the conclusion that Mobei-Jun might seriously be monolingual, in this linguistically fractured world of his. Like, thinking back on it, did he ever have Mobei-Jun actually talk to anyone but Luo Binghe? The genius polyglot who could talk to anyone else? He didn’t really go out of his way to specify which language Luo Binghe was using when speaking to people. Mobei-Jun was definitely around when other characters who only knew human Mandarin were speaking, but he really could’ve just been silently standing there, not understanding a word of what was being said. He was stoic like that.
“Aren’t you supposed to be a prince?” Shang Qinghua asks, keeping his tone deferential and polite. “Shouldn’t you have some fancy tutors teaching you your enemies language, huh? What are you, a fucking idiot?”
He’s gotten a few knocks and hits from Mobei-Jun by now, even though the guy is basically bedbound. He’s feeling a bit vindictive. Getting to call him an asshole to his face helps a lot.
He vaguely recalls a few language-related plot devices he’d scattered throughout the story, stuff like a reskinned Babel Fish or magical Rosetta stone. Unfortunately, he does not remember dick about where exactly they’re supposed to be now. Unhelpful bullshit.
“I guess there’s nothing for it,” he sighs. “We’ve just got to figure this out the old fashioned way, haha. Okay so… I’m Shang Qinghua. Or, well, not yet but I guess you don’t know that. Shang Qinghua.”
He repeats this several times while vigorously pointing at himself, speaking with emphasis. Mobei-Jun eventually repeats his name, but more with the air of someone trying to get him to shut up.
“Great!” Shang Qinghua crows. “Good job! Okay, so now we do you. What should Shang Qinghua call you?”
He points at him again and again, making questioning noises. Mobei-Jun, forced to play along with his insane caretaker or be forced to listen to him continue making nonsense noises at him, eventually makes a garbled noise at him. Demon language - or rather, Northern Desert demon language - is all harsh, guttural noises, abrupt consonants, hard Ks and rolling Rs. Literal growling is involved.
“... I can’t make that noise, my king. Sorry. Is it, uh, like this?” And he tries to repeat the noise he made. He knows he’s not even close. Mobei-Jun furrows his brow like Shang Qinghua just said something rude or ridiculous. Possibly both. “Sorry, sorry! I’ll just have to call you my king for now, hahaha.”
Trying to explain their relationship, their deal, is a little more complicated than that, and takes several hours.
“Servant,” Shang Qinghua repeats over and over again, touching his chest. “Spy. Useful! I’m your servant, Shang Qinghua does things for my king.”
He tries to do servile things for Mobei-Jun and then repeats servant over and over again. Fetching him food and water, making him more comfortable in his bed, bowing to him. Mobei-Jun says a demon word in a questioning, upturned lilt, and lays a hand on Shang Qinghua’s chest. Even through his clothes, his hand is deliciously cool.
“That’s right!” Shang Qinghua says, nodding vigorously, exaggerating his agreement with every part of his body. He has no idea whether it’s right or not, but he’s exhausted and kind of losing his mind. Whatever it is, he’ll take it! If Mobei-Jun is saying servant or slave, does it matter? With this vicious demon prince, it might as well be the same thing! Working like this, they’ll be able to slowly cobble together a human-demon pidgin language between the two of them, enough for them to communicate with each other.
Mobei-Jun doesn’t move his facial muscles a lot, but he almost makes an Expression then. He gives Shang Qinghua several strange looks after that, almost seeming to distastefully shy away from his touch a bit. Shang Qinghua ignores it, except to cheerfully cuss him out and insult him. He’s going to have to be careful to avoid teaching Mobei-Jun certain words, ahaha.
Several years later, very much later, he finally gets to learn that the word he’s mistaken for ‘servant’ all that time really means ‘wife.’
