Work Text:
Shang Qinghua is… exhausted. Every time he blinks, it’s a struggle to haul his eyelids open again.
Is he getting old? He used to pull all-nighters all the time, pouring energy-drink fueled desperation into lurid scenes of written papapa! Ah, surely there must be some fantasy wuxia equivalent to Monster… he’ll have to look into it once he’s done sorting out the mess in front of him.
Ugh. Hosting events is just… so much work! And it’s always his problem!
Why do they need to host the Mobei Clan for a post-ascension family reunion? They all hate each other! They’ve been conspiring to kill each other for years, and are probably super pissed that Mobei Jun has survived to become their King! If he’s lucky, they won’t notice the human scurrying in Mobei Jun’s shadow, but if they do, they’ll probably think Shang Qinghua is a worm that managed to stick to the bottom of his shoe along the way!
Fuck you, as-of-yet unknown demon assholes! This worm is the only reason you’ll have a bed to sleep in and meals to eat!
Shang Qinghua’s not doing all the work, of course. Despite everyone giving him skeptical looks—one of his assistants has at least eight eyes, and they’re all very judgemental—he’s delegating! Now that he has staff, of course he’s going to use them!
If he wasn’t, he’d have imploded already! It’s the only reason An Ding peak is still operating despite his many, lengthy absences!
But some tasks just can’t be passed on, ah? Like this seating chart! What a mess! Putting the Southern Fire-Blood Tribe next to the Desert Wolf-Snakes?? The massacre would block the fire exits! And seating Lady Huaguan at the same table as Saintess Zhangfei and Lord Wangduo was like lighting a match and putting it next to a bomb!
She was sleeping with both of their spouses!
At the same time! Ahhh, demons truly knew no shame.
And of course he has to order an inventory of everything—when gatherings often turn into brawls, the budget for replacing plates and chairs can be quite high! Not to mention making sure the kitchens are prepared to serve everyone’s favorites—nevermind that triple-bellied lava frogs are in their hibernation season right now! And if those literal snakes in the eastern valleys think they can price gouge him on venomous whispering snap-melons, they have another thing coming!
Shang Qinghua has a BUDGET and he’s not spending one cent more!!
Ahh, but it is so late. Shang Qinghua muffles a yawn with his hand, barely noticing as the brush in his hand leaves a streak of ink across his cheek. Even the lanterns seem to have dimmed. He should refill the oil, but… he yawns again.
A cool chill fills the air.
“Shang Qinghua.”
“My King!” yelps Shang Qinghua, slamming his arms down and nearly knocking over his ink stone. “This servant is hard at work!”
His King looks stunning, as always. Fresh flakes of snow sparkle like jewels in his perfectly black hair, and Shang Qinghua chokes back a sudden wave of—gratefulness? Fondness?
The early days of their relationship seem so long ago now. They were so young. Mobei Jun hasn’t hit Shang Qinghua in years—he can practically hear Cucumber-Bro rolling his eyes, he knows that’s a low bar to set, but like, it’s complicated bro—and now his King keeps giving him things…
Mobei Jun looks around the empty room, eyes lingering on the many desks stacked high with scrolls and books. Bulletins and tallies are tacked to the walls, and one large work table has been entirely engulfed in a detailed map of the palace, color-coded flags denoting some of the key areas.
Ah, my King, don’t judge the mess! thinks Shang Qinghua, wincing a bit. It may not look like it, but there’s a system! This office is essentially a war room!
Mobei Jun frowns. ”Where are your assistants?”
“Ahh, I sent them away. No one likes a boss that keeps you past dinner!”
Mobei Jun’s frown deepens, eyeing the half-eaten tray that had been delivered to Shang Qinghua’s desk. It was shoved aside to make room for a ledger. It’s now looking very… congealed.
Ahh, he needs to distract his King from his unprofessional workplace!
“Did, ah, you need anything, my King?”
“No,” says Mobei Jun. And then just… looks at him.
Too tired to think of anything to say, Shang Qinghua just… looks back. Why not? It’s a good view! His King is very handsome.
Mobei Jun shifts. “Tomorrow, I will leave to accompany the hunt along the western plains. When I return, you will eat dinner with this King.”
Oh.
NO.
“My King, your family is due to arrive shortly,” Shang Qinghua says faintly. “The entire palace is preparing to celebrate your ascension. Surely now is not the time for you to leave!”
Mobei Jun makes a dismissive gesture. “The hunt is a minor one. This King will return if summoned.”
Absolutely NOT, thinks Shang Qinghua, incredulity rapidly flipping into incredulous anger. Distantly, he’s aware that he’s stood up from his desk, voice rising, but that’s a minor detail considering everything that could—and WILL—go wrong if he doesn’t nip this in the bud immediately!
“You want to leave three days before your entire horrible, backstabbing family comes for a visit for a minor hunt? Do you want to be ambushed? Assassinated? Do you not recall that tomorrow is the BLOOD ECLIPSE!? Do you want to be CURSED?!?!? Absolutely not! I’m too busy to come save you! You think I’ve been slaving away over nothing? This gathering has my blood, sweat and TEARS and you will stay RIGHT where I put you looking pretty until the sky is normal and the familial leeches are gone and I can finally take a godforsaken NAP!”
In the shocked wake of this outburst, Shang Qinghua abruptly realizes that he’s not only been shouting in his handsome ice demon’s face, he’s GRABBED said face, squishing those beautiful cheekbones into fish lips as he ranted and raved.
With a yelp, he lets go, tripping backwards and staring at his hand like it’s been possessed.
Oh my god! Holy shit! He’s gonna DIE! All that grovelling and paperwork and scrambling and poorly-communicated heartfelt moments—for nothing!
Dread—sharp and all-too familiar—trembles through his body.
It’s not fair!! Shang Qinghua wails internally. Mobei Jun kind-of maybe likes me now! Or at least he did until twenty seconds ago!
At least his last sight will be of Mobei Jun. His most perfect creation, even with a wrinkle in his furrowed brow, one claw-tipped finger touching his face where his advisor dared to lay hands on him. He’s probably just as surprised as Shang Qinghua is right now.
“This King understands,” Mobei Jun says, after a long, fraught moment.
Understands what!! thinks Shang Qinghua wildly. His brain keeps skipping back to the feeling of those cool cheeks getting squeezed by his fingers like an unruly child. Can I pass this off as a qi deviation? Would my King spare me if I claimed temporary insanity!?
“This King will submit himself to his Advisor’s guidance. Please direct this King.”
“Uhh,” says Shang Qinghua.
“Where shall I stand,” Mobei Jun says. “To look pretty.”
Ah, thinks Shang Qinghua faintly. So this is what it feels like when a soul leaves one’s body.
“You, um,” says Shang Qinghua’s mouth, without input from any higher functions. “You’re pretty anywhere, my King.”
“This office?”
“Yes, my King.”
“The throne room?”
“Of course, my King.”
“My bedroom?”
Shang Qinghua gulps. “Especially there, my King.”
“Hmm. Then we will go there.”
With that, Mobei Jun grabs onto Shang Qinghua’s arm, tearing a portal into existence and dragging Shang Qinghua through.
“Ah! But—my work—”
“Tomorrow,” orders Mobei Jun.
“Yes! Of course! Tomorrow is great, love that—”
And then his King is unclasping his cloak, and unpinning Shang Qinghua’s bun, and—tucking him under one arm like a teddy bear? Shang Qinghua blinks, confused, feet dangling.
And then they’re laying down in his King’s bed! His King has a large arm wrapped around his stomach, and Shang Qinghua’s cheek is resting on a very firm and perfectly sculpted pec!!
Maybe he died after all!? Is this a dream???
Holy shit, there’s no possible way he’s going to be able to fall aslee—
…zzzzzZZZZ