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The blood is coppery on Shen Qingqiu’s tongue, suffusing his mouth, drowning his senses. He cannot help swallowing it, because Luo Binghe holds him in place, hand pressed to his face to prevent him from spitting.
Shen Qingqiu feels like he is going to be sick as it moves within him, uncomfortable and invasive. Luo Binghe’s bright red eyes take in his face as the blood mites do their work, drinking in the pain he tries to suppress. Shen Qingqiu feels it concentrating in his belly, and his breath hitches when he realizes what is happening: suppressing his normal cycle, inciting his hormones.
The scent of omega fills his nose as Luo Binghe leans closer.
It’s a sweet, seductive scent, like freshly cut firewood or soft, damp dirt. Shen Qingqiu almost finds himself leaning in as it catches in the back of his throat, calling to him. He only barely holds onto his senses, the sharp tang of blood in the air making it easier to break free from the lure.
How did the alpha protagonist become an omega? part of his mind despairs. What happened to him in the Abyss that caused this? Luo Binghe deserves more than that!
Even as an omega, Luo Binghe’s presence is overwhelming. It’s no wonder that he managed to recruit Huan Hua Palace to his side; his ability to posture outstrips even the most imposing alpha, and his scent is deceptive in its smoothness. Shen Qingqiu himself feels as if he wants to cower under the weight of Luo Binghe’s all-consuming aura. It was unscientific—omegas shouldn’t be able to do that, Shen Qingqiu thinks—but of course Luo Binghe still could, even if the plot had somehow twisted and turned him into an omega!
Even as he internally panics, he can feel the blood mites continue to move through his insides, urging his hormones into overdrive. It takes him a moment to realize what is happening.
Shen Qingqiu’s senses begin to sharpen, and he can feel an itch in his gums, and the press of Luo Binghe’s body against his suddenly becomes more. He becomes aware of himself in a way that he rarely is, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling as he finds his gaze dropping down to Luo Binghe’s throat.
He wants to bite.
“Ah, there it is,” Luo Binghe says, his voice chillingly sweet.
The first flush of heat through his veins makes Shen Qingqiu realize that the blood mites, the hormones, and Luo Binghe pressed against him have triggered his rut.
The hand pressed to his mouth finally comes loose, its job done, as Luo Binghe instead cradles his jaw. His fingers are terrifyingly close to Shen Qingqiu’s throat.
Shen Qingqiu has never actually experienced a rut before, and he feels panic rising within him. He had lived life as a beta as Shen Yuan, and when he’d transmigrated in he’d discovered that the original goods had long since suppressed his cycles with his cultivation. He had been perfectly happy with that—no terrible hormone sex-craze for him, thank you very much!
Still, everything he’s heard about the symptoms are unmistakable as his heart starts pounding in his chest, the intricacies of Luo Binghe’s scent growing sharp in his nose. The bitter tang of anger, betrayal, that Shen Qingqiu has tried his best to avoid. Something soft and sad too, and Shen Qingqiu doesn’t examine it, can’t afford to.
Luo Binghe can receive comfort from the many others waiting for him with open arms. His scum Shizun is only good to be the recipient of his rage these days.
Although—with most of his mates in the previous novel being female omegas, would that change? Then again, the fans had enjoyed the occasional alpha/alpha pairing, as long as Luo Binghe came out on top and forced her to submit. Who knew how things would turn out in this world?
“This disciple can smell it. Shizun’s rut,” Luo Binghe coos. The saccharine tone alone is enough to shoot ice through Shen Qingqiu's veins. “Wouldn’t he like to spend it with this omega?”
Shen Qingqiu’s treacherous body reacts immediately. An omega to bed, something in him yearns. A strong, powerful, lovely mate.
Luo Binghe would be all of those things. He was gorgeous, and a talented cultivator, and quickly conquering the demon realm as far as Shen Qingqiu could guess. His instincts seized on that, whispering to him that he couldn’t make a better match. That Luo Binghe smelled so lovely, and he was already leaning in, closing the distance between them.
This is Luo Binge’s game, Shen Qingqiu realizes with horror.
There is nothing worse than an alpha who takes advantage of an unwilling omega. As Shen Qingqiu had managed to sidestep his previous slimy claims with Ning Yingying, Luo Binghe was taking it into his hand to manufacture his own. It was a masterful plan, and it would work so easily. Shen Qingqiu would be shamed for disgracing Binghe.
“No,” the word tears from his throat as he flinches back, breaking away from Luo Binghe’s touch.
Luo Binghe, who had been idly tracing his jawline, simply hadn’t had a good enough grip on him anymore. Shen Qingqiu ducks under his arm, taking advantage of Luo Binghe’s distraction to make use of his martial skills to glide past, launching himself off the wall to dart out of the alleyway.
Shen Qingqiu leaves Luo Binghe standing there, hands still hanging limp in the air, as he runs from Luo Binghe as if he can escape the onset of his rut if only he flees fast enough.
He’s shocked that Luo Binghe was distracted enough to let him go in the first place. Due to Without-A-Cure, all Shen Qingqiu can do is run—he can’t infuse his footsteps with qi, and flying on Xiu Ya is entirely out of the question. He can feel the burn in his limbs as he sprints, his arms pumping, a desperation to escape that drives him forward. He can’t—not to Luo Binghe—
Shen Qingqiu has betrayed him in every way, and Luo Binghe deserves his revenge, but not yet. Not because of this.
He darts down another alleyway when it opens up to him, the overhangings of the scrunched-together houses fully blotting out the stars. It is only a few steps before he is enshrouded entirely within shadow, the walls of two homes pressing in on him from either side. It is claustrophobic, his breath catching in his throat as his shoulder knocks against a wooden beam and makes him stagger. He clutches at the ache and keeps going.
Luo Binghe will be after him any minute, chasing the scent of rutting alpha.
Running is pointless, but he can’t stop trying to flee, to avoid his punishment a little bit longer. Even with his cultivation-enhanced vision he trips over uneven cobblestones in the dark, terror and heat rising simultaneously within him. Shen Qingqiu knows that he hasn’t experienced a rut properly before, but he’s not stupid. He has to get off the streets, to hide.
There is a small, run-down shack of a home towards the end of the alleyway, its old door practically falling off the hinges and the surface riddled with pockmarks and splinters. Shen Qingqiu beelines for it, and the door swings open under the barest touch, the house having long since been abandoned. It’s likely that the previous owners were victims of the sower demons, but it must have been long before the cultivators arrived—even in the pitch dark room, Shen Qingqiu can feel the departed ghost of an empty home.
The shutters of one measly window swing open, casting a single dim and wavering shaft of moonlight through the center of the room. Everything is covered with a layer of dust, and the house must have been emptied of any of its valuables long ago. There is nothing but old, rickety furniture in a home only big enough to house a kitchen and a single bed.
Shen Qingqiu stumbles over to the bed, his brain a mantra of hide, hide, hide. He can still taste copper on his tongue, the ghost of Luo Binghe’s scent in his nose.
Around the side of the bed, after slamming his foot against one of the bedposts and cursing quietly, he finds a chest cast in shadow. It, like everything else in the home, has been emptied by looters, but its position makes a small recess next to the bed, just large enough for Shen Qingqiu to shove himself into.
There is dust everywhere as Shen Qingqiu squeezes himself in, grinding into the fabric of his robes and likely ruining it. He makes for a sorry sight, he’s sure, drawing his knees up to his chest so that his boots aren’t illuminated by that single ray of light from the window, hiding from the protagonist who wants his head! Even worse, sitting still brings his attention back to his body. He isn’t in full rut yet, but he can feel the tug of the blood mites as Luo Binghe tracks him easily, making his mad dash pointless. He should have gone for help; what was he thinking, hiding away? This was what Liu-shidi was for! His instincts are a mess and they’re fucking with his decisions, making him snarl quietly to himself.
Being an alpha is the worst! He’s done this all wrong—he’s worse than a brain-dead female lead in a horror movie. He’s gone and cornered himself while running from someone who already has a tracking tag on him!
Shen Qingqiu puts a hand on the chest to lever himself up and make a second mad dash. Maybe if he gets to the rooftops, he can call out for Liu Qingge, and he’ll have a chance, even if it’s a small one.
Before he can so much as move, however, the weak light streaming in from the window goes dark as a body temporarily strides past it.
Carefully, he lets go, sinking back into the little recess between the bed and the chest. Maybe, if he’s lucky, it’s not Luo Binghe—
The door creaks, and Shen Qingqiu can hear the measured step, step, of someone prowling into the house. The footsteps are confident, slow, the sure movements of a predator who has already cornered their prey.
Shen Qingqiu is so fucked.
“Once again, Shizun rejects me, flees from me, even though he previously cradled me so sweetly,” Luo Binghe speaks into the open air.
Shen Qingqiu closes his eyes. He’s only made things worse for himself, he fears. Even if Luo Binghe hadn’t used his blood mites to follow him, Shen Qingqiu can feel his scent leaking uncontrollably, beckoning towards the omega in the room as a potential mate. His skin is beginning to crawl as he feels the start of want suffusing him, and he grits his teeth against it.
Luo Binghe’s footsteps draw ever closer, and Shen Qingqiu can do nothing but weight, an alpha as cornered prey, his heart in his throat.
“Does Shizun—“ Luo Binghe comes around the bed and catches sight of the sad sight that Shen Qingqiu makes, huddled against the wall, and falters. “Shizun?” he asks a second time, his face falling.
Shen Qingqiu doesn’t know what Luo Binghe would have expected, after throwing Shen Qingqiu into rut for the sake of his revenge. Obviously Shen Qingqiu wasn’t going to throw himself at Luo Binghe like some kind of harlot!
“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says, then curses himself for his familiarity. He presses on, even though opening his mouth coats his tongue with the sweet scent of omega, calling to him. “Binghe should choose some other revenge than this. He deserves better than to disgrace himself through this master’s rut. I don’t—I can’t—Binghe shouldn’t have to go through the pain of breaking a forced bond.”
Even now, he can feel the urge to bite building in him, to claim the omega that seems to throw himself at Shen Qingqiu repeatedly, unaware of his allure. Shen Qingqiu knew that Luo Binghe had to be fully aware of what he was doing in reality—it would all be part of his plan—but why choose such a self-sacrificing kind of revenge? There were plenty of ways to drag this master through the mud without having to resort to debasing yourself with him, Binghe! Why was this the method that he had chosen?
The only thing preventing Shen Qingqiu from launching himself bodily at Luo Binghe is the distance between them as the desire within him rises. The space between them makes it harder to pick up on the underlying notes of his scent. Instead, he is only able to pull in the stronger, more general layers. From so far away, Luo Binghe almost smells like the alpha that he should have been, which shouldn’t tug at Shen Qingqiu's instincts so strongly, except for the fact that it’s also unmistakably soft, omegan.
Luo Binghe doesn’t move away, and Shen Qingqiu despairs that his embarrassing plea has failed. Shen Qingqiu can only bring himself to lay himself so bare in front of Binghe, but all he wishes for is a little bit of face and to be left to suffer this rut in privacy before Luo Binghe continues his revenge.
“Shizun thinks I want revenge?” Luo Binghe finally asks.
Shen Qingqiu feels a moment of disconnect so violent that he forgets about his rut entirely. Doesn’t he want revenge? Shen Qingqiu did the unforgivable and pushed his little lamb into the pits of suffering! And ever since getting back, Luo Binghe has chased him, poured blood down his throat, and sent him into rut with the intent to disgrace him! What about that wasn’t revenge?
”Don’t you?” he responds, tired. Fighting his instincts is taking everything out of him, and even his shaking limbs feel far removed at this point, a performative kind of fear that he barely experiences anymore.
Luo Binghe looks—shockingly, mystifyingly—devastated. “No,” he says. “Well, I want Shizun to be sorry.”
Shen Qingqiu is certainly sorry, if anything else! But what use are apologies at this point? What’s done is done, and Luo Binghe has been too wronged for things to continue in the way that they used to. Allowing Luo Binghe to vent his anger was meant to be the goal of Shen Qingqiu’s death.
”But mostly, this Binghe wanted a mate.”
Shen Qingqiu is spared from processing this when the blood mites tug at him once more, making him hunch over his knees with a groan. He squeezes his eyes shut as they move inside him, his gut stirring and nausea welling within him. And then they stop, suddenly, and Shen Qingqiu blinks in surprise.
What just happened?
Shen Qingqiu looks up and flinches back when Luo Binghe is suddenly much closer than he had been, hemming Shen Qingqiu even further into his corner as he kneels in front of him. His features are lit from the side, his zuiyin glowing faintly in the dim light. The right side of his face is cast in shadow, making his expression difficult to make out.
Shen Qingqiu does his best to breathe shallowly as Luo Binghe grabs his arm. His brain experiences a flash of a hand on his shoulder, bracing, tearing, but Luo Binghe simply presses his fingers to Shen Qingqiu’s wrist.
The scent of him is so much more from up close, and Shen Qingqiu can only be grateful for the fact that his knees are pulled to his chest, hiding how affected he is. Luo Binghe’s sweet, woodsy scent is a balm to his senses, beckoning to him. It’s a stronger scent than most omegas have, to be sure, but Shen Qingqiu finds himself leaning in anyway, wanting more.
Luo Binghe glances up at him, and Shen Qingqiu freezes as their eyes meet. He sits, dumbfounded, as Luo Binghe begins to cycle his energy.
Luo Binghe’s spiritual qi washes through his pathways, warm and soothing, alleviating the effects of Without-A-Cure. Shen Qingqiu can feel the blockages in his energy eroding under the gentle pressure of Luo Binghe’s qi sweeping through his meridians, untangling the worst of it. Shen Qingqiu can’t help but sigh in relief as his body relaxes despite himself, strength returning.
“If Liu Qingge is too incompetent to ensure that Shizun’s pathways are clear, then allow this disciple to do so instead,” Luo Binghe says, and he sounds so much like the petulant disciple that Shen Qingqiu raised that Shen Qingqiu’s chest hurts.
“Liu-shishu,” Shen Qingqiu corrects automatically.
In the dim light, Shen Qingqiu can see a small smile curve at the corners of Luo Binghe’s lips. “Liu-shishu,” Luo Binghe repeats dutifully, bringing back the myriad of times that Shen Qingqiu had told him to correct himself years back and received the same filial response.
It isn’t until Shen Qingqiu’s meridians are nearly entirely cleared that he realizes the implications of being able to cycle his energy again. Once more, he can suppress the rut tugging at his instincts, his hormones. He can shut down the desire to press his teeth to Luo Binghe’s neck and leave a mark for all to see—his claim.
Hurriedly, before his thoughts run away from him too far, he begins doing so. Relief courses through him as the throbbing in his gut begins to fade, the sharp scents assaulting his nose prickling of his skin finally starting to abate. He feels less on edge, less like he might lash out or growl or act completely irrationally, and the grip on his own emotions is freeing.
No wonder the original goods had gone so far as to permanently suppress his rut cycle. The whole thing seemed awful.
“If Shizun expects me to call Liu…shishu—does that mean that Shizun still accepts this disciple as part of Cang Qiong sect?” Luo Binghe asks after a long moment of silence between them, his gaze locked onto Shen Qingqiu as if he could stare into his soul.
Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t be surprised if he somehow could. He feels flayed open in front of Luo Binghe after his flight and subsequent healing. He’s confused—he doesn’t know what Luo Binghe wants, what convoluted scheme he could be planning by triggering Shen Qingqiu’s rut and then helping him suppress it. What he meant by I wanted a mate.
“Binghe is whatever he claims to be,” Shen Qingqiu finally says, because it’s true. Shen Qingqiu would never be able to fight the protagonist—if Luo Binghe says he is still a part of Cang Qiong, then he will be, even if it is only temporary. Even if it is somehow a trap.
“And if I claim to be Shizun’s mate?”
Shen Qingqiu chokes on nothing. Shen Qingqiu’s mate? If that was what he wanted to humiliate Shen Qingqiu with, then why would he allow Shen Qingqiu to suppress his rut once more? With only a little bit more prodding, Shen Qingqiu knows he would have been throwing himself bodily at Luo Binghe!
“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu stammers out, struggling to pull together a response. “Surely you don’t—that would be silly—”
There was no way that he could be sincere in that desire, was there?
Luo Binghe was meant to be an alpha, the head of a massive harem of omegas and other, submissive alphas! Of course, he was an omega now—and Shen Qingqiu still didn’t know how that had happened—and looked remarkably like he didn’t wish to rip off Shen Qingqiu’s limbs. But Luo Binghe was a master manipulator, and this all has to be part of some larger plan. Doesn’t it?
Was the blood-feeding thing about something other than revenge? Was Luo Binghe trying to seduce Shen Qingqiu into biting him in order to keep him as a mate?
Half of Shen Qingqiu wanted to burst with anger. Couldn’t Luo Binghe court an alpha properly? What a terrible way to show interest in someone!
The rest of him doesn’t know what to do with the thought. Of course, if this version of Luo Binghe wanted an alpha, then who could possibly deny him? Even as an omega, he would surely be the perfect mate! Shen Qingqiu couldn’t imagine anyone doing something so insane as turning the protagonist down.
“I do want,” Luo Binghe says, as stubbornly as when he would put his foot down about assisting Shen Qingqiu in some way that was totally unnecessary, like combing his hair or helping him dress for the day. “But I’ve dishonored Shizun with my actions, and scared him, and I’ve failed to show Shizun that I can still be an upright cultivator.”
Shen Qingqiu jolts. Dishonored him? What did Luo Binghe do to him, eh? Other than feeding him his blood and starting his rut cycle as some failed courting technique, and he already took it back!
“Binghe didn’t,” he protests, but Luo Binghe frowns bitterly.
“Shizun still sees me as a demon,” he spits. “And all I’ve done since we reunited is prove to him that his choices were correct. I am greedy and angry and Shizun flinches from my touch.”
The self-hatred in Luo Binghe’s voice shocks Shen Qingqiu.
“Isn’t Binghe a demon?” he asks, and it’s Luo Binghe’s turn to flinch. “Ah, I mean—if Binghe truly doesn’t wish for revenge, then what need do I have to flinch? It was this master who was in error.”
Fingers tighten around Shen Qingqiu’s wrist, the calm wash of qi cutting off as Luo Binghe grabs him, his eyes wide.
“Then Shizun is willing to consider it? A courting?” he asks insistently.
Ah, Shen Qingqiu despairs. What could he possibly say? If he answers no, he will only disappoint or enrage Luo Bighe. If he answers yes…well, there were worse things than to be ushered into the protagonist’s harem, he supposes. Even if it was the last thing he ever expected to happen to him.
Before he can respond, however, Luo Binghe gives a sad little smile and sits back.
“If Shizun needs time, he needs time,” he says, as docile as if the chasing and terror of mere minutes ago had never occurred.
Luo Binghe has never been patient once in his life when there was a quicker path to getting what he wanted, as far as Shen Qingqiu knew, and somehow he doubted that Binghe would start anytime soon.
“But…maybe this disciple could return with Shizun and build a nest back in the bamboo house?” Luo Binghe continues hopefully, always pushing the envelope.
The question directs Shen Qingqiu’s mind towards his own bed, sad and bare. He’d never really felt the need for a proper nest—as a beta, he hadn’t had one, and as an alpha, suppressing his cycle also suppressed most of his instincts regarding finding an omega to nest with. But now, with the proposition posed to him so clearly, he can’t help but to imagine what it would be like to have Luo Binghe set up a space in his—their—home.
The bamboo house has always been Luo Binghe’s home, baffling though it is that he still appears to want it.
Shen Qingqiu isn’t so delusional as to think that Luo Bighe would want to build his nest in Shen Qingqiu’s own bed, of course, whatever nonsense he says about mating. Luo Binghe has his own room and space, perfect for him to nest in. Still, the mere thought of such a space in his home, comfortable, maybe lined with pillows that he finds from somewhere—
Would Luo Binghe want Shen Qingqiu’s scent in his nest? As eager as he looks, Shen Qingqiu dares to imagine Luo Binghe cushioning the space with one of his robes, maybe, or asking for Shen Qingqiu to scent a blanket for him.
The thought alone causes a flush of heat completely unrelated to the subsiding rut to rush through him.
“If Luo Binghe wishes to build a nest, then this master would be amenable to that,” Shen Qingqiu finally says, voice halting.
Despite his rising hope, Shen Qingqiu feels emotionally exhausted, backed into a corner of confusion. Does Luo Binghe hate him or want him? Is this a trick, or has Shen Qingqiu somehow changed the plot so thoroughly that all Luo Binghe wants is to come back to the bamboo house and be a disciple under him again? The request to have Shen Qingqiu as a mate has done nothing but send Shen Qingqiu’s thoughts spiraling. Under what merits could Luo Binghe possibly want Shen Qingqiu?
Still, Shen Qingqiu’s agreement is enough to make Luo Binghe beam with happiness, the pure joy on his face enough to make the dim, dilapidated room seem bright and warm. Luo Binghe lifts the wrist in his hand to his mouth and scents it before Shen Qingqiu can process what’s happening, a brush of lips that sends Shen Qingqiu’s heart pounding.
His lips are soft and warm against Shen Qingqiu’s skin, and the tenderness of his touch feels undeniably real. When he lets go, Shen Qingqiu carefully reaches up to brush his fingers against Luo Binghe’s temples. He runs the scent gland at his wrist over them, then traces his hand slowly down to Luo Binghe’s throat.
Luo Binghe bares it for him easily.
Shen Qingqiu’s throat catches even as he leaves his scent there, claiming him. He used to do this all the time when Luo Binghe was younger, fingers at his temples, brushing under his jaw. Luo Binghe would beam happily and the other disciples would clamor over for attention from their Shizun, and Shen Qingqiu would calmly soothe each of them, pleased to have his little pack of students. It was the thing he most liked about being an alpha, he thought, the ability to leave his mark on his young ones.
This is different than that. Luo Binghe closes his eyes as if experiencing physical pleasure, his mouth falling open as he breathes in, clearly trying to catch Shen Qingqiu’s scent on his tongue. The action is remarkably erotic in a way, and Shen Qingqiu hurriedly pulls his wrist back, suddenly embarrassed.
It was just a simple, platonic scenting—Binghe didn’t have to act like that about it!
“I will build a nest for Shizun to be proud of,” Luo Binghe says as if it is the most solemn vow, blinking his eyes back open. The glint of red has faded from them, the System in Shen Qingqiu’s ears chiming about lower anger points. Shen Qingqiu sighs in relief, even if he feels as if he’s not entirely out of the woods yet.
“When have I ever not been proud of you, ah?” Shen Qingqiu asks helplessly, heart twisting in his chest because he knows that the answer to that is all too easy.
”When Shizun has been scared of me,” Luo Binghe answers simply, leaning in ever closer. Shen Qingqiu has nowhere to go, and his breath catches in his throat as Luo Binghe kneels over him, his presence becoming physically all-consuming. “But Shizun has no need to fear this disciple. As long as Shizun accepts me and keeps me, I could never do anything to hurt him.”
What happens if Shen Qingqiu fails to meet Luo Binghe’s expectations goes unsaid.
Shen Qingqiu wonders faintly if the failed rut was simply meant to gain his trust—but Luo Binghe had seemed truly shocked at his fear, and had gone so far to soothe him afterwards. Even now, Shen Qingqiu can feel the scent of calm, want, desire wafting from Luo Binghe, lulling him into a sense of security that he can’t fight. And Luo Binghe looks down at him with such sweet, deep eyes, and Shen Qingqiu feels defenseless against him.
There is nothing that he could deny this omega. Who could deny Luo Binghe anything?
Luo Binghe leans in closer, reaching for Shen Qingqiu, and Shen Qingqiu flinches reflexively. His breath catches as he watches Luo Binghe’s face darken, then simply turn sad.
“Let me prove myself,” Luo Binghe says, his voice insistent and eyes pleading. “That I can be good.”
Shen Qingqiu takes a deep breath, and nods.
Luo Binghe immediately scoops him up, reaching around him to lift him with a hand under his knees and an arm behind his back. Shen Qingqiu squawks and grabs onto Luo Binghe reflexively while Luo Binghe stands as if Shen Qingqiu is as light as a feather.
“Binghe, put me down!” he protests. “I’m filthy!”
All that dust and grime is surely transferring onto Luo Binghe’s nice Huan Hua Palace robes, ruining their fabric as well. Not only that, but Shen Qingqiu is perfectly capable of walking on his own!
Shen Qingqiu is neither a princess nor one of Luo Binghe’s wives—yet, part of him says—and anyway, between the two of them, shouldn’t Shen Qingqiu be the one carrying Luo Binghe? He was the alpha between the two of them!
“No,” Luo Binghe says stubbornly. “I want to build a nest for Shizun. Right now.”
And why does that mean that Luo Binghe has to carry Shen Qingqiu to do so? Shen Qingqiu squirms in Luo Binghe’s grasp, but he might as well be fighting iron shackles. Luo Binghe holds onto him firmly, transferring him to only one arm as his hand grips Xin Mo’s hilt, drawing his sword.
The immediate, pressing weight of demonic qi fills the room, making Shen Qingqiu almost nauseous with it. Still, he watches avidly, because seeing Xin Mo in action was undeniably cool. Luo Binghe’s knuckles are white as he grips the hilt of it, clearly fighting some pull that it has on him, but he stands strong.
Shen Qingqiu realizes that they could be going anywhere.
“Where are you taking me?” he asks.
Luo Binghe looks over at him, and the hard expression on his face from whatever battle he is having with his sword softens as soon as he looks at Shen Qingqiu. A smile graces his lips.
“Home,” he says simply, and the sword parts through space.
Shen Qingqiu clings to Luo Binghe as they step through the rift, an alpha in his omega’s arms.