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Luo Binghe was going to stab himself, or one of the other demons in the room. Whichever came first, really.
“Respectfully, our clan has resourcefully managed our ancestral territory long before Junshang took power, even before he was born–”
“Watch your tongue.”
Hah. ‘Managed’? They managed their territory like Luo Binghe managed the colonies of ants in the palace; doing absolutely nothing at all and forgetting they existed until a plague wiped them out. What managed?
Funnier, still, because they released the plague themselves when they conquered it barely a hundred years ago. It came to bite them in the ass, Luo Binghe took charge of the mess before they brought everyone else down with them, and now they wanted reparations for the land that wasn’t even theirs to begin with.
Ancestral territory his ass. Did they think no one figured it out? How pathetic. He felt himself nearing the edge of his patience, his fingers tapping ominously against the roundtable.
“… Apologies, for the slip of this one’s tongue. I merely meant to suggest that Junshang think of his strong relationship with our clan, and take our rightful claim to the land into consideration as a show of good faith,” the eldest heir to the clan continued, and if Luo Binghe had to hear that bullshit one more time he was going to cut out his tongue.
They hadn’t reached an agreement after days of negotiating, because their clan still insisted on both more gold and livestock than in his initial offer, and also on reclaiming the territory they so ‘resourcefully managed’. From the start Luo Binghe made it clear that it was not on the table, and they could ‘resourcefully’ fuck off.
How many different ways could he possibly say, I owe you nothing, and you’d be lucky for the chance to get on your knees and bow before me?
The reason he generously hosted negotiations instead of simply crushing them under his boot like how demon conflicts tended to go was merely because he promised Shizun that he’d try. An all out war might mean he couldn’t cook Shizun’s meals for a day or two, and that would largely inconvenience Luo Binghe.
A day or two is all it would take to utterly destroy them, and his Shizun’s kindness was the only thing stopping him from it following through. He wondered if they needed a gentle reminder of that fact.
“I believe it would be beneficial for Junshang also,” the Clan Leader’s daughter spoke up with a spiteful look in her eye. Ever since Luo Binghe rudely rejected her she’d carried her wounded pride into every meeting (which was really her fault, he made it explicitly clear he wasn’t available before she’d even tried). Thus, a headache followed every time she opened her mouth.
“It would silence the rumours that he is unfit to rule, since he was not raised a demon and does not respect our cultural ways. Of course, that… must be untrue, right? If Junshang acted otherwise, ah, what a disaster…”
Luo Binghe slammed his hands on the desk, primarily for the shock effect. It worked. His powerful demonic energy rippled through the room, teeming with dark malice. More common than any small rumours doubting his ability to rule, were the rumours of his brutality and his strength. They would never doubt those rumours again. Nice, diplomatic Luo Binghe time is over.
“Enough. You dare to threaten me, in my own home?” Luo Binghe chuckled, his eyes glowing violently as he paced around the table straight toward the Clan Leader. The demon stood up, his chair tumbling backwards in shock, but there was little time to react before Luo Binghe had wrapped his large hand around his throat. “You are brave, but you are not smart.”
The soldiers and other diplomatic envoys immediately took up their arms, and Luo Binghe lazily raised an eyebrow at the futile display. He tightened his grip, lifting until the Clan Leader’s feet no longer touched the ground.
“You’ll take half of what I offered you, and you’ll thank whichever god you pray to that I did not decide to execute you all where you stand. Do you yield?”
The demons nervously glanced among one another, their weapons still tentatively raised. The tension grew as Luo Binghe bared his teeth.
“I said! Do you yield?”
“W-we do–” The Clan Leader strangled out. Luo Binghe was merciful enough to lower him to the ground, but his fingers held the bruising grip on his neck.
He would certainly take this loss personally, but although extremely insubstantial, Luo Binghe still technically granted reparations for a territory that he rightfully owed them nothing for. Should they attack, it would violate the few peace laws demons did have. They would be in the wrong, and many clans would scramble for the opportunity to defend Luo Binghe and hopefully snatch their clan’s land in the process.
Luo Binghe smirked down at the man.
“Now… As for your place in my court, I am not an unreasonable man–”
He paused, an unsettling blankness settling over his expression. In the silence, everyone heard the commotion approaching the door. Disturbing his meetings was a punishable crime, but he didn’t particularly want to be at this one anyway, so…
“‘M not drunk! Cultivators… Hic, cultivators can’t get drunk! Yyou wouldn’t know. We can circulate the alcohol out… with qi.”
Husband? Husband! Luo Binghe dropped the Clan Leader, instantly discarding him like a forgotten toy as his eyes lit up happily.
“Then why aren’t you doing that!” Another voice, shrill and hissy, retorted. Sha Hualing, it must be. His advanced hearing picked up on footsteps quickening to a near-run, and Sha Hualing’s mutter of, “Fuck this, I don’t get paid to babysit you.”
Shen Qingqiu didn’t respond, slamming open the grand doors of the hall. Luo Binghe immediately gave his Shizun the full attention he deserved, his head pricking up like an eager puppy. Shizun had a pretty pink flush spread across his nose and upper cheekbones, not unlike the way he looked when Luo Binghe slowly took him apart… The very memory had him stumbling in the wake of desire as he hurried across to him.
“Shizun? Is there any way this disciple can be of service?” He offered, pleading with large eyes. Shen Qingqiu stared at him, a light frown crossing his face before he swayed unsteadily on his feet. Luo Binghe quickly caught him by the arm, tucking him in close. “Is Shizun unwell? Should this husband prepare some herbal tea, or a damp washcloth?”
Shen Qingqiu reached up, gently slapping both his cheeks and sandwiching his face. He blinked.
“Binghe? You’re Binghe?”
“Mn. This one is Binghe,” Luo Binghe sincerely answered, confused but obediently lowering his head to give Shen Qingqiu easier access to squish his cheeks. He very generously ignored the whispers of surprise from his invited, but nonetheless unwanted, guests.
“Junshang… He’s drunk. Should I take him back?” Sha Hualing asked from behind, with the resignation of a woman who knew the answer. The demons were still in some state of shock. They could freeze like that forever and become decorations in his palace, for all Luo Binghe cared.
“Of course not, looking after my husband is my duty. Shizun will always come first.”
“Thought so. It’s a wonder anything gets done around here,” Sha Hualing sighed, rolling her eyes at him. “Master Shen is such a handful like this, how did it get so bad?”
He and his Second in Command had gone through a rough patch at first, because even though she’d given up on getting into Luo Binghe’s pants before Maigu Ridge, she still couldn’t accept the human she’d lost to. It didn’t help that Shizun liked to tease her by innocently reminding her that he’d met her as a child, saying things about how fast she’s grown, and how it felt like not that long ago that she failed in attacking Cang Qiong in her embarrassing teen rebellion phase. Sha Hualing despised it, and Luo Binghe’s well of adoration for him only deepened.
Luo Binghe didn’t know the details because he hadn’t been there– but at some point in time, Shen Qingqiu saved her life from the remnants of Jiuzhong-jun’s supporters, and she’d begrudgingly respected him ever since. He now cautiously trusted her with his husband, and though it was rare for Shizun to drink this much, he already knew she wasn’t involved in drugging him.
Luo Binghe warily hummed and narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her, just because it was funny. She spluttered in indignation, stomping her bare foot against the ground and causing her various anklets to tinkle with the motion.
“I just found him in the hallway! I didn’t touch him, Junshang, Shen Qing– Master Shen, tell him! I have no idea what he was doing.”
“Wanted to see Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu calmly said. Luo Binghe drew in a soft, surprised breath. Ah. He was so happy, he could cry.
“Oh my god, you are pissed. Did you empty our wine cellar single-handedly?”
“Not drunk. I just wanted… to see Binghe,” he insisted, his voice slightly slurred as he gently patted Luo Binghe’s cheeks.
Shizun had a thin face, and didn’t like showing his affections in front of others… But he just boldly stormed into one of Luo Binghe’s meetings, demanding to see him just because he wanted to. The reality was so much better than Luo Binghe’s fantasies, whenever a meeting grew particularly boring (except those usually ended in sex, and that was definitely pushing his luck).
“Sha Hualing. You’re dismissed.”
“Yeah, yeah, you want gross husband time. And I’ll just clean up your mess and deal with everything the guests need by myself, right?” She sarcastically huffed.
“I’d appreciate that,” he said, only a little bit petty because she insulted his husband. Shizun was never a handful, and if he was, then he was the perfect size for Luo Binghe’s hands. “I suppose you should get to work, then? There’s quite a lot to do.”
“You wouldn’t! Junshang, I’m a girl in the prime of her youth, I’m supposed to be getting laid and going out, not wasting away behind all your paperwork! All my efforts to seduce you, my relationship advice, my loyalty over all these years, do they mean nothing to you?”
“Mhm. Nothing,” Luo Binghe loftily replied, turning to the terrified, confused demon clan. The sight of them made his face sour. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Shen Qingqiu stepped protectively in front of Luo Binghe and pointed at them. (Sort of. His aim was a little off, but Luo Binghe appreciated the effort).
“B… Binghe has been working too much. I’m calling a strike. Right… hhic, right now,” Shen Qingqiu told them, and even while drunk his scathing looks were a sight to behold. The demons looked sufficiently concerned for their lives. Luo Binghe was so obsessed with him.
“Oi. What’s a strike?” He whispered over his shoulder to Sha Hualing, who was still puffing up her face at him like she’d been grievously wronged.
“Hmph. Hell if I know, your husband speaks in tongues. He kept insisting the whole way here that Heavenly Demons should form a… union?”
“A marriage union?” Luo Binghe parroted, equally as lost.
“No. Workers union,” Shen Qingqiu corrected them, and Luo Binghe nodded like he had any idea what a workers union was. “Not marriage. Binghe is married, so he can’t marry anyone else. His husband will be upset.”
“Will he? Ah, we can’t have that,” Luo Binghe indulgently murmured, a sappy smile falling helplessly on his face. Shizun always warned him that such displays were considered a weakness, and that there were those who would look down on him for it. Luo Binghe told him that if anyone dared, one of them would regret it, and it most certainly wouldn’t be him.
If he were tested, the world would know the depths of his anger, and if he were blessed with his special person’s affection, the world would know the intensity of his love. Luo Binghe refused to be ashamed of either. Power meant nothing, if he couldn’t fulfil his vows to treat him well.
“U-uhm… I see why Junshang was so insistent on refusing our Yan’er, he truly has a wonderful husband!” One of the weaker-looking demons piped up, badly hiding their blatant intention of currying favour through his husband. “Master Shen is surely very, ah, capable and good-looking…”
“Keep your filthy eyes to yourself,” Luo Binghe threatened in a low growl, making the demon flinch. “Husband stealers, they’re everywhere.”
Shen Qingqiu giggled, his laughter disrupting his fragile balance and sending him staggering to the side. Luo Binghe took the rare chance to swipe him up into his arms, while Shizun was too drunk to protest. He was just starting to feel too much like a horrible, evil, manipulative mastermind for it when his husband curled into his chest like a satisfied cat, sighing contently like he’d been waiting for Luo Binghe to do that the whole time.
Shizun… Shizun was so cute… He was perfect, and cute, and Luo Binghe was insurmountably glad that he wasn’t a sad drunk like Sha Hualing. The sound of his husband’s laughter in the air again lodged itself in Luo Binghe’s throat, making it harder to breathe.
He was truly the luckiest man in both the realms.
Luo Binghe placed a featherlight kiss on his temple, whispering, “I’ll take Shizun away from these eyesores now, mn?”
“Mn.”
By the time he looked up, Luo Binghe’s eyes had once again adopted a frosty, threatening glint.
“You may keep your position in my court for today, but if you ever waste my time like this again, or offer me another marriage, there will be no one left of your bloodline to offer,” Luo Binghe smiled with blatantly false cheer. He didn’t suppress his bloodlust, seeing as Shen Qingqiu didn’t look uncomfortable in his arms. It didn’t matter that he was at his most vulnerable– Shizun wasn’t afraid of him, not anymore.
“I believe that settles negotiations, then. Wonderful talk. My Second in Command will handle your accommodation for tonight, and you will leave first thing in the morning. Don’t let me find you here after first light, I will not be merciful tomorrow.”
Luo Binghe stalked out, with Shen Qingqiu sleepy, drunk and draped in his arms.
“I want a raise,” Sha Hualing grumbled as he passed.
“Do I pay you?”
“See? Mmggfgh, workers union,” Shen Qingqiu mumbled abstractly in response. Luo Binghe loved him like this, too. Silly and incomprehensible and undeniably real, a man of flesh and bone, within Luo Binghe’s reach.
He swiftly carried him through the empty hallways, most of the staff already cleared out for the night since the meeting had run rather late. Shen Qingqiu wrapped his arms around him, burying his head near Luo Binghe’s heart, and it felt wrong to even think the word but– his Shizun was acting sticky.
“Binghe… has a good hheart,” Shen Qingqiu slurred, pressing his ear to Luo Binghe’s chest.
“Does Shizun mean kind, or functional?” He asked, vaguely amused. Shen Qingqiu nodded his head, which, well. Luo Binghe supposed that answered that.
“Is there a reason Shizun decided to drink tonight?” Luo Binghe gently asked.
“Nnnot drunk.”
“So that’s how it is, Shizun is indeed above common things like drunkenness. Is Shizun inebriated, then?”
Shen Qingqiu tried to whack him on the head, but he missed his target and his palm landed softly over Luo Binghe’s face. Luo Binghe struggled to contain his smile against the skin, looking between his fingers to see where he was going.
“Brat.”
Luo Binghe kissed his palm, and it finally slid back down so he could watch where he was walking. Shen Qingqiu stared at his own hand with no small wonder, the expression open and sincere on his often cold and hard to read exterior, and… The feeling was indescribable by any one word. It reminded him a little bit of a saying Shizun once taught him, something about butterflies in his stomach. Yes, like that indeed.
The butterflies would be green. Shizun liked green.
He found his way down to the bamboo hut replica, though over the years the inside started to look less and less alike. Shizun said it would be boring to have two identical homes, so why didn’t they make better use of the space? Luo Binghe didn’t know if he believed that, or if he simply saw that Luo Binghe was hesitant to change the original; the side of him that was still a young disciple, struggling to accept the care he’d been trusted with and afraid of somehow tainting it, coming to the surface.
Since it was technically a fake, Luo Binghe was encouraged to slowly leave his mark in it. Eventually, it became a home overflowing with parts of them both, interwoven until it was difficult to tell where one began and the other ended.
Shen Qingqiu’s discarded fans on their drawer were propped up by Luo Binghe’s paint brushes (Shen Qingqiu liked to hang his paintings, and Luo Binghe liked to paint him). In their glass cabinet were two different tea sets side by side; Shizun’s favourite from Qing Jing Peak, decorated with stalks of bamboo, and the warm golden set that had been the first thing Luo Binghe ever bought for himself once he’d escaped the Abyss. It was too hard to have separate wardrobes, so robes of black and green hung together in the closet.
It filled him with a possessive pride.
Luo Binghe loved to leave the shape of his hands and teeth on Shen Qingqiu’s skin for others to see. He loved showing the world that the most beautiful person in it was spoken for. The way their things sat together in their home was different; it was intimate, a display just for the two of them, of the place he held in his heart and his life.
“Binghe, shameless,” Shen Qingqiu half-consciously mumbled, even though he hadn’t actually said any of that aloud and they were in the privacy of their own home. “Put this… Put this master down.”
“As Shizun wishes,” Luo Binghe obediently took him over to their large bed, attempting to deposit him in it. No, really. He tried. Shen Qingqiu clung to him tighter and refused to let go, still hiding his flushed face out of view. Ah, his Shizun really… could never say what he truly wanted.
“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu whined. Luo Binghe wasn’t exactly sure which part he was complaining about, but he endeavoured to fix it anyway.
“Sorry, Shizun. This disciple doesn’t actually want to let you go just yet, please bear it a little longer,” Luo Binghe firmly said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Shen Qingqiu shifted to sit in his lap, crawling up and quickly putting his arms back around his neck. Luo Binghe’s grip around his waist tightened, and he tried to bite back a fresh wave of tears
Unsuccessfully, if the way Shen Qingqiu was sympathetically patting his cheeks was any indication. He slapped his hands together again, like he’d done in the hall, very sternly staring Luo Binghe down like he was leading up to a punchline that he forgot to say the last time.
“What are you?”
Luo Binghe considered the question for a moment. What kind of answer was Shizun looking for? Metaphorical, like, he was a plant blooming under Shen Qingqiu’s love? Or literal, that he was half heavenly demon?
“I’m your husband,” he settled on the middleground. Shen Qingqiu shook his head, and Luo Binghe nearly teared up again for a vastly different reason.
“No… No, Binghe don’t cry, Binghe is my… h-husband. But. Wrong answer.”
“May Shizun enlighten this disciple?”
“Binghe is an idiot sandwich.”
“… This husband is an idiot sandwich?”
Shen Qingqiu nodded, satisfied. Seemingly out of nowhere, he decided to roll off Luo Binghe’s lap and starfish over the sheets. At some point, his robes had already been loosened, showing off the cherry flush of the alcohol that travelled down his chest, and his hair was already messily falling out of its updo. He looked ethereal. Luo Binghe was not a strong enough man to resist the urge to lean over him and kiss his pretty, pink lips.
He slowly pulled back, hovering just above him to admire his softly parted mouth and his dark, captivating green eyes, looking straight ahead at no one else but him.
“Binghe… I think. I… ffigured it out now.”
“Shizun?”
Shen Qingqiu waited, keeping him in suspense either because his brain was working slower than it should or because he knew it drove Luo Binghe insane.
“I could… take three geese in a fight. But no more. No less.”
Luo Binghe’s eyes brightened with delight, and he threw his head down to laugh quietly into the exposed strip of his collarbone.
Of course, Luo Binghe was desperately in love and wholly devoted to every part of him. He loved the stern looks and scoldings (a little too much, Shizun would’ve said), and he worshipped the stunning visage he made. But, he fell for the person he saw when the act slipped. He married the Shen Qingqiu who was stubborn, petulant, jealous, and sometimes crude, but always kind when it mattered.
Shizun lived in a space carved out of his heart, there was no part of him he hadn’t seen, and no part of him he didn’t love anyway.
“Stop laughing, you, yyou don’t know how vicious they are. Geese are mean. One goose has… has nothing to lose, you see? But two, they’re a team, they care about each other, and it’ll just be… too, too… hic. Too sad. Three is okay.”
“Ahh, this disciple understands. But why can’t Shizun fight more than three?” Luo Binghe amused himself with asking, propping his elbows up on either side of Shen Qingqiu. Shizun gave the question the grave, serious thought it deserved.
“Mmore than three? More than three is an army. Write, write that down, Binghe. This is a lesson.”
“I’d fight a thousand geese for Shizun.”
Shen Qingqiu sighed, closing his eyes. For a second, Luo Binghe almost believed he’d fallen asleep on him, but then he blinked slowly and spoke again.
“Mmmmmm. That’s why… two are the scariest. ‘Cause they fight for each other.”
Luo Binghe couldn’t believe this man was his. His to have, his to keep. His… goose partner, if they were staying on the metaphor (that knowing his husband, was probably at least a little bit literal. He would have to ask if there was a story there, tomorrow).
“How is Husband feeling now? Can I get you a cup of water?” Luo Binghe tenderly offered, tucking a strand of hair behind Shen Qingqiu’s ear. The man blearily stared at him like he was seeing double, and nodded.
“I feel… weird.”
“That’s because Shizun is drunk.”
“I’m drunk?”
He was filled with so much adoration that he feared he would burst. He wouldn’t trade these moments with his husband for anything in the world.
He quickly fetched him a damp washcloth, since Shizun’s face still seemed uncomfortably flushed, and some water. He patiently sat him up in the bed to drink it, and Shen Qingqiu who was too tired to remain upright on his own, ended up leaning his body against Luo Binghe’s chest. In the morning, he’d wake up early to prepare a medicinal tea for headaches, just in case.
“Binghe’s so good… nice and warm,” Shizun mumbled into his cup. “Mi… I, ah, missed him.”
Luo Binghe leaned in, his tone bordering on distress, “Shizun was lonely? Is that why he decided to drink?”
Shen Qingqiu huffed, shoving the cup back at him and lying down just so he could roll onto the other side and turn his face away, embarrassed.
“This… this master can drink, just because, because he wanted to. So what? Binghe’s been so busy. Maybe I’ve… hic, maybe I became a wine con… cononnoisseur, while he was gone.”
His ridiculous husband– Luo Binghe would have individually told every demon in that room to fuck off and die if he’d known his husband was lonely! He was only away for so long because of Shen Qingqiu’s insistence!
Ah… He’d felt so miserable, spending so many days away from him and working well into the night… But Shizun always said married couples should have boundaries, and spend time separately, so he thought he would be enjoying the break from Luo Binghe. But Shizun missed him too? Shizun felt the same?
“Ah… Shizun, Shizun thought about me too? He missed me? He really did?” Luo Binghe knelt by the bedside, sticky round tears falling down his face. Sometimes he played it up, because he knew Shen Qingqiu liked it, but they were genuine now because he knew he was safe.
Shen Qingqiu could always tell the difference, anyway. He rolled back over to face him, reaching out and ruffling his curly hair with a little more sobriety than before.
“Binghe… mmm, Binghe’s fishing. He knows he was missed.”
He did. He did, but the reminder every now and then did not go unappreciated. Luo Binghe was loved, so deeply loved, by the person most important to him in the whole world. Shen Qingqiu’s hand slipped down to his cheek, and he nuzzled into his palm, weakly sniffling.
“Crybaby,” Shizun scolded affectionately.
“Mn. I’m Shizun’s crybaby. This husband was wrong, I won’t ever leave you lonely again, I swear.”
Shen Qingqiu smiled, broken only by a sleepy hiccup. He seemed like he had something to say, but was helpless against his motor functions shutting down, his eyelids struggling to stay open. Luo Binghe pressed his forehead, right where his demon mark glowed with the intensity of everything he felt, against Shen Qingqiu’s own.
“Sleep, my love. I really… I really won’t leave you again, okay? Anything Shizun wants.”
“‘S okay, if Bing… Binghe does,” his husband quietly whispered against the pillow, barely audible except to Luo Binghe’s advanced cultivation and demonic senses. “As long as… Binghe comes back.”
“Shizun is my home. There is nowhere else this Binghe will ever return to.”