Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Summoned spirits and sovereigns of sin—tonight the veil thins and the unthinkable is yours for a price! Behold! Tonight’s crown jewel!”

Standing center stage, the auctioneer held himself tall and prim in a crisp black suit. An aged bone-white mask obscured his face, but not the twisted glee in his voice.

“Torn from the heart of the Wudang Mountains, bound in chains of black iron, forged in a sea of immortal black flame…”

The drums quickened as the crowd’s hearts beat fast.

“I give you the last living ember of destruction itself—a dragon!”

Thunderous applause and wild cheers rolled through the grand hall as demons in jeweled Volto masks ignited their bidding sigils above their seats. From the lowest imp to the highest ranking fiend, not a single true face could be seen. And rightly so! Who would dare bare their face and invite the gaze of hungry rivals? Who would flaunt their wealth and power in a den of predators? 

Only a madman would walk these halls unmasked.

He Yu’s eyes drifted to the flickering crests of the lowest ranked demons, ashen gray sigils, their crooked glyphs cracked like old bone.

Did those scavengers really think they had a chance? Even if every gutter-crawler in the pits pooled their hoarded coins, they couldn’t grasp a prize like this in a million years.

And just like beasts devouring their prey, rows of ember seals flared to life, with their circular runes laced with fiery veins that pulsed like living hearts. Barons, warlords, and sorcerers of the middle circles let their sigils blaze brighter, smothering the weaker lights in a display of sheer dominance.

Seeking recognition no doubt, He Yu mused. It wasn’t so different from a lowborn man spending his life’s savings on fine art to impress his ‘betters’, all the while pretending, for a moment, that he belonged among them. 

Finally then, like an overwhelming tsunami of prestige, five sovereign sigils made their way from on high, in luxurious box seats, violet black edged with luminous gold featuring three interlocking rings. The mark of archdemons or infernal dukes who command realms of their own. 

And, ah yes, this was where the true fight would begin. Much like a white tiger facing up against an azure dragon. It was difficult to say which of the five would reign supreme and claim the crimson beast as their own. 

Just then, a raven-haired succubus in an ivory and rose-gold Volto mask slowly leaned forward to refill his cup. When she spoke her voice was delicate and sweet, “Young master, are you not going to bid?”

He Yu drained the last of his wine and let the glass shatter lazily at his feet, his eyes dark and unreadable.

Tonight, he was the only one present in the hall without a mask. 

A true madman, brazenly bare in a world that thrived on lies.

He Yu drew every gaze as effortlessly as oil drew flame. Here was a demon who defied the house’s rules without a flicker of fear! One so untouchable that even the auction hall itself bowed to his whims!

Rumor had it the young master arrived unannounced, and though the hall was already full, none dared refuse him. Instead, they made room, by burning a defiant patron, jewels and all!—to cinders. The attendants swept the remains aside and poured his wine as if erasing a life were no more troublesome than wiping a spill.

So it was only natural that all those seated near him feared him, yet couldn’t help but crane their necks to get a good look at this terrifying and unpredictable young master.

Twin crimson horns curved elegantly from his temples, sharp and polished like rubies, catching the faint glow of the low light. A black leather choker hugged his neck, drawing the eye to the line of his throat. Reclining lazily in his seat, one arm draped around a beauty, long legs crossed, a sly curve to his lips and a dangerous glint in his eyes — young master He painted quite the alluring picture.

He was beautiful. Unbearably so.

And his aura ebbed and flowed in such a way that even when he appeared bored, he still commanded absolute attention. 

So when this succubus asked, “My lord, are you not going to bid?”

Several rows of demons on all sides leaned in, cranning their ears to hear what he would say.

Handing him another glass, Bai Jing angled her posture so the curve of her chest lingered in his sight, a subtle invitation, nothing more. After all, there was only one reason someone like Lord He would summon her, wasn’t there? If a woman as quick-witted as Bai Jing couldn’t read the mood, she’d best find new employment! 

He Yu’s crimson eyes eerily turned to her like that of a painting, a ghost of a smile tugging at his thin lips.

“Why should I bid for it? Is it beautiful? Do you like it?”

Bai Jing, thrilled to have finally caught the attention of the wealthy young lord, curled dramatically against his broad chest. Her lashes trembled, and there was an unmistakable pout in her voice.
“Aya… gege is bullying me… It’s so frightening, even locked in chains.” She shuddered. “How could anyone find it beautiful?”

He Yu’s grin grew wider as he petted her head, much like one would a pet. 

"It is terrifying, isn’t it? Who knows what it’ll do once those chains give way, burn us to ash, tear us apart piece by piece? And even if it devoured every last one of us… I doubt it’d be more than a mouthful."

"It’ll be fine!" The succubus lifted her pretty, masked face up on his chest, eyes bright with feigned innocence. "Gege will protect me, won’t he? What’s there to be afraid of? Gege can slay the ugly dragon! He can do anything."

She batted her doe eyes at him, seeking more comfort from the big, bad dragon. He Yu’s smile never reached his vacant, obsidian eyes. 

The crimson dragon coiled miserably within its tiny cage, unable to lift its head. Its black, slit-pupiled eyes were dull with defeat. A metal muzzle clamped its snout shut — it could no longer breathe flame, nor even roar or cry its grief. 

Dumb creature. Probably only came down Wudang mountain in search of company. Who would want to be friends with you? With that ugly snout and those terrifying claws? If you never left home, you’d have been safe and sound. But you just had to climb down your mountain. You just had to try to walk amongst them. 

You see, this is the kind of greed that condemns. 

Now lie there in chains. Lie there and take the whip. No one will care for your scars. No one will mourn your blood. Bow your head, act tame—maybe they’ll toss you a bone. Maybe they’ll even let you live. 

The hall grew louder and louder with laughter and merrymaking and maniac bids, until a single voice ended the charade.

Without warning, a royal sigil ignited above the hall, black streaked with veins of crimson and silver fire, revolving like a burning planet. Ancient runes orbited the sphere in solemn procession, devouring every other sigil in its wake—an all-consuming black star.

That crest belonged to the demonic royal bloodline, kings, queens, and their direct heirs. Most demons lived entire lifetimes without ever glimpsing it. So it was only natural that an overwhelming wave of awe and terror swept through the hall as He Yu made his bid.

“50 billion.”

The words rang out like a death sentence. The hall fell silent, utterly, painfully silent.

The auctioneer froze, his breath caught in his throat. Then, with visible effort, he straightened and forced a trembling smile. 

“F-fifty billion!” he stammered, bowing so low his mask nearly touched the floor. “From His High Excellency… Prince He, heir of Hell!”

The auctioneer dared not look up. 

One wrong word could be enough to draw a royal’s ire—and if the rumors were true, young Prince He was the most sadistic of them all.

“Are… are there any challengers?” he managed, more out of obligation than hope, his voice scarcely above a whisper.

No one moved. No one spoke.

And just like that, the auction came to an end.

“...My lord bought the dragon afterall.”

“I thought you said I should.”

Bai Jing froze. For a heartbeat, her mind went blank. He listened to me? The realization bloomed in her chest like forbidden fire. Perhaps Prince He didn’t see her as some passing amusement after all. Perhaps… this young lord truly desired her.

“—!!!” She quickly lowered her gaze, hiding her trembling smile as she pressed closer to him. “Gege should take everything,” she murmured eagerly, voice trembling with forced sweetness. “Everything in this auction hall should belong to him!”

He Yu gave a low chuckle, the sound dark and sharp as broken glass.
“Everything should be mine, hm?” His lips curved into a razor-edged smile. “Then I suppose I should take you too—along with the relics, the jewels, and every other worthless thing in this hall.”

The mockery in his tone was sharp enough to draw blood, but Bai Jing, dazed by his words and the warmth of his voice, only heard the first half. Her cheeks flushed, her heart actually stuttered.

Meanwhile, murmurs rippled through the crowd like wildfire.

“That’s He Yu! The Prince of Hell!”

“The same one who turned the tide of the Angel-Demon War two centuries ago—!”

“The one who lived among the angels, waiting, smiling, pretending to be one of them—until the day he tore Heaven open from within.”

“A one-man calamity. The wound he left in Heaven still hasn’t healed.”

“That… Prince He.”

The whispers swelled—louder, bolder, crawling beneath his skin.

A sudden, savage urge gripped He Yu, to tear the hall apart, to silence every demon and jeweled courtesan in their glittering masks—each one pretending they knew him. Pretending they understood what had happened that day.

No matter where he went, it was always the same.

The bloodlust surged, rising until he was certain nothing could sate it but the sound of their screams and the scent of their blood.

Sensing the shift in his aura, Bai Jing wordlessly refilled his glass, her movements trembling but careful.

Perfect.

Perhaps he could drink—

Drink until the voices faded,

until the edges blurred,

until every prickling thought melted into that sweet, empty euphoria.

Perhaps he could drink and drink til he was dead.

Before He Yu could bring the glass to his lips, the auctioneer’s voice cracked through the hall like thunder.

“Masters and mistresses of damnation, before we draw tonight’s festivities to a close, the house is honored to unveil one final item. 

A treasure too magnificent to be listed in our catalog—so rare, so precious, it has not graced an auction stage in over a millennium! 

…. And what is this fabled prize, you ask?”

A hush swept the arena as a sea of Volto masks, crimson, ivory, and gold—tilted toward the stage.
Taloned hands froze mid-toast.
Snake-tongued whispers turned to breathless silence.
Even the lowest pit fiends leaned forward, smoke curling from their nostrils.

A treasure greater than a dragon? Such a thing was unheard of.
Few in the room could ever hope to claim a prize of that magnitude, yet all leaned in, desperate to witness the impossible.

Bai Jing curled her head on He Yu’s shoulder, her long, lacquered nails trailing sensually down his torso. “Gege,” she purred, “what do you think the item is?”

He Yu swirled his glass with feigned interest, before taking a deep sip of blood red wine.

“It could be the Wreath of Thorns, once worn by the first damned duchess of the underworld. Or the Tongue of the First Liar, said to grant its wearer the power to twist speech and bend minds. Maybe even Mercy’s End, a pale sword of frost, rumored to kill even an immortal.”

“Whatever it is,” He Yu leaned closer to whisper into Bai Jing’s delicate ear. 

“I doubt it’s more enticing than the vision before me.”

Truth be told, if this succubus didn’t happen to have the alluring peach blossom eyes he so happened to like, he wouldn’t be keeping her so close and humoring her like this. With enough alcohol however, he may actually start enjoying her company. 

There was that painful, pricking feeling at the back of his throat again. 

“Behold! a relic of heaven itself! An archangel —pure and untouched!!” 

The audience came alive, erupting in cheers, stomping their feet, a mounting roar of anticipation filled the room, as if the very air were on the cusp of rupture.

From the centre of the stage, a platform slowly rose, revealing a sight so shocking that the glass He Yu held shattered in his hand. Wine spilled down his front as he shot to his feet, gripping the balcony railing so tightly that hairline cracks spread beneath his fingers.

The vision of the stage down below was so surreal, the young demon couldn’t tell if he was hallucinating. 

Xie Qingcheng! Have you fucking lost your mind?!

A raven haired man was forced to kneel before the audience hall, his arms and ankles bound by countless chains of silvered hell-iron. His once lustrous wings had been brutally nailed onto his pedestal, blood soaking through his soft, snowy feathers. An erotic white silk blindfold was fastened around his eyes. 

He Yu could feel the crowd sweep their lecherous gazes up and down the angel’s evocative form, like a savage pack of wolves drooling before a feast of tender flesh. Yet beneath his bloodshot eyes and terrifying rage, He Yu too could feel a hunger consume him a hundred folds stronger, high up in his seat of honor. 

Sick as it was, it soaked his bones, more potent than the wine. 

Xie Qingcheng kneeled before him, dressed in only a pale robe of see-through silk tulle, with his strong, midriff exposed for all eyes to see. A translucent skirt hung low beneath his mermaid line, offering a stunning silhouette of his long, folded legs, and the gorgeous curve of his ass. Something gleamed beneath his gauzy clothes, and He Yu could immediately tell, all of the angel’s most sensitive, private places were hidden beneath strings of precious diamonds and gems. 

He rubbed his thumb along his jaw, slow and distracted.

Was Xie Qingcheng even aware of how he looked? How the crowd was sucking in their breaths? How they gazed at his divine form, consumed by their savage hunger and carnal desires? Chances were, the angel had no idea. He had no idea others would desire him in this way. That demons, angels, and humans could gaze at him in anything other than reverence. He truly believed his presence commanded every living thing’s absolute submission and obedience. 

An animalistic part of him wanted to ravage the angel on stage, sink his teeth into his neck, and claim him before the ravenous crowd, till all he could do was curl up around He Yu, and whimper into his neck.

The other part of him wanted to kill everyone witnessing this sight. Destroy all those who dared desire what was his. Pluck their eyes. Swallow them whole. Paint the hall with pretty shades of crimson. 

Perhaps a few centuries ago, He Yu would have felt ashamed to harbor such thoughts. He remembered the days when he lived in terror, afraid his yifu might somehow peer into his mind and see just how ugly and perverse his heart truly was.

But now, things are different.

Xie Qingcheng hated him, so there was no point in pretending.

He could kill everyone in this room, scoop his yifu into his arms, and dance in a puddle of blood. It wouldn’t make the way Xie Qingcheng felt about him any worse. And with that erotic blindfold in place, he wouldn’t see those eyes filled with hatred, only soft lips, tempting and close enough to kiss.

The auctioneer, unaware that he was tightening his own noose, carried on unperturbed:

“A creature of the purest light, snatched from the very vaults of paradise! A virgin—chastity and grace made flesh! Ripe for ruin, to be bedded and broken, a living testament to your dominion over the divine! The starting bid is eighty billion hellforged gold ingot—a paltry sum for the privilege of defiling light incarnate!” 

“85 billion!”

“100 billion!”

“170 billion!” 

The auction hall throbbed with infernal energy. Bids flew like sparks, and sigils ignited in midair. The host, drunk on the chaos, urged them on as the crowd howled and clawed their way forward, ready to tear through flesh and flame for the chance to place a bid.

"Note the symmetry of the wings—thirteen spans of divine plumage! There is no other of his kind beneath the stars... not for sale, not for possession! Do I have 200 billion?!” 

“300 billion!”

A wave of demons snarled and cursed, their faces turning thunderous behind their pretty painted masks. 

“Hold the bids!” A voice near the stage called out, “This man before you is none other than the archangel of justice also known as the “first emperor” of heaven! Who over here hasn’t heard of his name? Or the countless stories of how he chained and eradicated so many of our kind. Brutally! With none of the mercy they like to preach so much about! Just his gaze alone is more than enough to turn a devil to dust. Be honest! You’re only selling him off because he is too dangerous for you to put on a leash! Do you take us for fools?! Fighting like beasts to bid on a knife wrapped in silk!!” 

The audience began to whisper anxiously in the shadows, and for a moment, even the infrastructure felt as if it were holding its breath.

The auctioneer hummed gleefully, “This gentle fiend here, makes an excellent point! An archangel of justice is far too terrifying to sell, much less own! But fear not ….”

A demoness in a pale mask strutted on stage, bringing forth, what seemed to be a new item.

The host unveiled a velvet-draped tray gingerly, revealing the angel’s plucked eyes nestled in twin beds of ash-grey silk, its soft blue, luminescent far more precious than any sapphire.

He swept the angel with a look of pure hatred, before turning back to the hall, his voice still bright with unshaken cheer.

“.... this sacred beast has been defanged! His eyes have been gouged out and encased in glass where they can do no harm. A rare relic for any collector of divine ruin! Do I hear 620 billion?”

He Yu’s eyes blew open as the hall roared to life once more, and tens of bidding sigils flared all at once.

“320 billion!”

“332 billion!”

”400 billion!”

Bai Jing couldn’t help but find the atmosphere infectious. Prince He, who’d taken a fancy to her had even bought a dragon at her request as if it were nothing but cheap candy, so her demands naturally grew more and more bold. 

“Gege~” She whined, draping herself onto He Yu’s lap.

The corners of his mouth tugged low.

“Those eyes on stage are so pretty! I’ve never seen something shine so spectacularly. It puts any sapphire to shame!”

His thumb paused as the corner of his jaw.

The succubus slipped her arms around He Yu, kissing his temple delicately with her bright red lips. Her warm breath fanned against his ear.

“I’d love to make a set of earrings out of them. Gege, won’t you buy them for me?”

Suddenly —-a harsh cough tore through He Yu’s throat, shattering the moment. Dark red petals spilled from his mouth, flecked with droplets of blood.

Bai Jing recoiled, her expression contorting to horror.

“W-what is this? Young master—-are you sick?”

Deep Crimson Orchid. Hidden, obsessive longing.

1. He Yu’s memories

~𖥔☾𖤓☽𖥔~

“There’s this disease that’s been going around for the past few months,” Xie Xue explained to him as she bit into a starlit nectarine. 

“Does it make people eat three times their weight?” He Yu asked with polite interest. 

“Oh my God, you’re actually the worst!” Xie Xue whined around a mouthful of nectarine. “Why is someone as pretty and charming as me even giving you company?! I need better friends.”

He Yu only half listened to her complaint, his lithe black tail flicking restlessly as his gaze drifted to Xie Qingcheng, who silently tended to the garden of souls. The older man’s snowy wings were unfurled as he sauntered through a sea of soft blue, pink, and purple hydrangeas—the souls of unborn mortals. Once in a while, when he found a sickly bud, he’d call forth a luminescent jellyfish to imbue it with light and heal it.

The sight was so ethereal, it left He Yu feeling speechless and oddly hopeful. 

“Oh great Xie Xue, please forgive this humble one’s misdeeds. I have learned the error of my ways.” He Yu said in monotone, as he plucked a nectarine from her basket. 

Like hell you did! 

Xie Xue only slapped the little devil’s hand away and continued casually, “People have been getting sick lately, you know? They spit out flower petals. Isn’t it weird?”

He Yu finally turned away from the older archangel drifting between the gardens.

“What?”

“Got your attention, huh?” Xie Xue gave him a smug grin, “I haven’t seen it myself or anything. But all the newer angels are all over it, you know. They call it, “Love sickness.””

“Love and flowers go hand-in-hand. So it’s only natural a theory like that would catch on. The mastermind behind it should get a raise.”

“Yeah, but what if it’s true! Now everytime someone coughs near me, I’ll be thinking, ‘what if they’re concealing that sickness! Hiding their petals so no one will know!’ And ‘maybe I’m to blame?!’ Ahhh it’ll keep me up all night!”

Xie Xue flopped back on the grass, spreading her limbs out like a glorified star fish.

….

“Promise me, you won’t fall in love with me, okay?”

“Shijie, did that fall give you brain damage just now?”

~𖥔☾𖤓☽𖥔~

He Yu watched as the First Emperor presided over a heavenly trial, seated high upon a throne of ice that caught the light in a prism of shifting colors, like glass touched by starlight.

Xie Qingcheng furrowed his brows, his cheek resting lazily on his fist. The look in his eyes was neither overbearing nor cruel — only cool and pensive, as he studied the mortal’s records through a drifting veil of mist. 

The rest of the council held their breath, awaiting the archangel’s judgment.

"He's too distracted," He Yu said with a click of his tongue, pulling an eye mask down over his eyes. He leaned back in his seat, folding his arms behind his head. "He’s gone over this case three times already. That mortal’s guilty, no matter how you look at it. Your gege’s lost his touch."

Xie Xue flicked the demon’s forehead, “What do you know! My ge has lots of things on his mind! Lots of important adult matters. Kids like you wouldn’t understand!”

Idiot. How is an adolescent the same as a kid?

The demon tugged one part of his eye mask up to glance judgingly back at her.

“Like?”

…

It came without warning.

…

He could feel something prickly sprout in his chest.

…

“Da ge is getting married. You didn’t know?” 

…

His collar suddenly felt too tight.

“I can’t believe he didn’t tell you! 

He Yu couldn’t breathe.

“Ah but then again, you’re like a son to him, so maybe he didn’t want to overwhelm you. Hehe my gege is very thoughtful like that.”

It tore through his throat.

“You’re an outsider so you don’t know, but marriages here are different from how they are on Earth. Angels come in pairs, like sets of wings.”

It hurt! It hurt! It hurt!

“Chen Yan is gege’s destined one, by divine decree, his other half. It’s a joyous celebration! Make sure you ask da ge for lots of candy, okay?!”

He Yu was certain he was going to die. This was going to kill him.

~𖥔☾𖤓☽𖥔~

“What’s happening to me?!” 

The adolescent croaked, holding a bucket filled with blood and sticky white petals. Hot tears ran down his pale cheeks. Dark blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. Yet he could feel that prickly sensation build up at the back of his throat.

Xie Qingcheng lowered his lashes as he poured the youth a cup of soothing tea. When he spoke, each word was gentle yet calculated. 

“You’ve been sick for years. I’ve told you before, the air here is not compatible with demonkind. It’s taking a toll on your body. I’ve done my best to dispel the toxins and clear the miasma, so you can live as normally as possible. But ….”

He Yu carefully accepted the cup offered to him.

“...there seems to be a new illness. Something I haven’t seen before.”

The youth drank greedily. 

“Unrequited love”, angels whispered about the disease that had reared its head across the heavens months ago, “Unrequited love is the cause, did you hear?”

Xie Qingcheng frowned.

“He Yu. Do you have a crush on me?”

The youth doubled over as he coughed out the tea, the delicate clink of porcelain rang out as the tea cup trembled in his grip. He Yu wiped his mouth hastily with his sleeve, face flushed— ”Yifu, with all due respect, you’re thousands of years older than me, a man, and not my type at all. When people see you, wouldn’t they think of you as a father to me of sorts? It’s disgusting and depraved no matter how you look at it—”

“---Good. Now you won’t mind telling me who it is you’ve caught feelings for.” 

Xie Qingcheng cut He Yu off midspeech, his tone apathetic and to the point, as if he really didn’t care one way or another. So long as youth wasn’t going to be a nuisance about it. 

“...”

The youth only blinked back at him dumbly.

“He Yu, what you have is called, “Hanahaki”. Some think this is a fictional illness, often used to tell tragic love stories, but it’s real. And it’s deadly. As your doctor and caretaker, there is only so much I can do to deal with your current state.”

“...”

“Still won’t talk?”

After a prolonged silence, Xie Qingcheng slowly rose from his seat, 

“Xie Xue already told me what triggered your sickness. You were concerned about my wedding? It’s been canceled.”

SLAP!!

Without thinking, He Yu caught onto Xie Qingcheng’s pale wrist. 

Eye’s wide, jaw trembling. He wanted to scream, but no sound came out.

“---Xie Qingcheng, who asked you to cancel your wedding?! You think I give a fuck about who you marry?!”

The demon’s eyes burned with a hostile red gleam. “I didn’t ask for this! Do whatever you want—marry whoever you want. My illness… it has nothing to do with you!”

Though his voice remained cold and brash, He Yu couldn’t stop the tremble in his legs. He was terrified—so utterly terrified that Xie Qingcheng would see through him, peel back every layer he tried to hide. That he’d cast him aside in disgust… or worse, with indifference. As if he were nothing—just dust to be brushed away. His heart slammed against his ribs. The tears wouldn’t stop. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. 

I won’t dare ask for much. So just keep me by your side. Please. 

Somewhere between the anger and loss, He Yu’s hand had turned into a talon, and its grip no doubt bruised the doctor’s wrist.

If Xie Qingcheng was in pain, he bore it well. 

The angel lifted his eyes up at He Yu, with a look of casual dismay.

“You really think this is for your sake? I hate to break it to you, but heaven and earth don’t revolve around those surnamed He. I canceled the wedding for personal reasons. Nothing more, nothing less.”

He abruptly pried his wrist out of the youth’s claws, and even took some time to straighten his sleeve. 

“When did you start developing feelings for Chen Yan?” 

The youth loomed over the angel, his horns casting a frightening shadow over his person, and when he spoke, his voice took on a demonic rasp:

“Ï̴͙̝̑̈́̊̌͛̾͘ ̸̡̡͚̠̤̼̻̮̖̽̅̈͋̏͐d̷̘͊́̓͒͂o̶̢̺͈̞̰̲̫̍̌̀n̶̢͔͖̲͚͍̣̣͛̌̾̓̄̄'̶̲̻̪̂̓t̷͍̮̟̜͖̖͚̘͎̂̒̈́̈́ ̴̻̝̙͇̗̟̿̈́̑͋̒̀̎̐c̷͖̺̈̓̎̃̋̆͠ą̶̳̖͕̘̦̳̳͖̊̿̈́͗͗̂́̂͊r̵͎̍̿͋̿̾͋̃̆e̵͈͗̍̇͂ ̵̜͈͐͗̏̈̃̈̈́͠͠ͅa̴̢̺̥̫̫̝͍̓̀̈̉̈̔̕͜͝b̸͍͖͖̈͊̈́́͜͠ͅó̷̰̋͠͝ŭ̸͎̭̪̮̗̺̣̈́́́̅͋̀t̷̡̛̥̙̺͖̏̍͌̐͘͝ ̸̭̼̩̲̗͎̀͐̽̌͂̽̄̚͜t̵̢̢̫̫̺̬̮̥̐̈́̐͐̽̌̕͜͝ḩ̷̢̫̲̰̺̳̥̊͌̓̔̽͐͠a̴̧̠͖͚̬̬͖͎̎͗̓̑̋̈̾̿͜ṱ̶͇͉͖͑͂̓͂̑̀ ̶̯̜̭̯̥̼͓̻͌̄́̐̒̚̕s̶̛̫̟͒͑̓̀w̴̧̨͓͈̬̝̖͎̄̓̇́͛i̸̧̛͕̯̬̼̼̝̎̓̍̋̑͋͊͐ń̵̢͓͔e̷̹͉͍̎̎̀”

“Fine. It doesn’t matter either way.” Xie Qingcheng sighed as if he were dealing with a particularly exhausting child.

“A union between demons and angels defies the order of all things. Abandon this infatuation before it consumes you.”

The older man collected He Yu’s tea cup and gingerly placed it back on its silver tray. 

By the time he looked up, He Yu had returned to his human form, curled up on the bed. His small crimson horns were lost in his messy hair, and his tail coiled softly around him, curling tighter with every breath, as if trying to shield him. His voice had shrunk to a whisper.

“What do you mean?”

“An angel and demon can never be together. It goes against our nature. An angel that loses itself to a demon and gives into lust loses its place in heaven. Engaging in intercourse is no different from inviting poison into our bodies. In short, the angel will die. For a measly moment of pleasure, who would be willing to sacrifice so much?”

He Yu’s gaze shifted to the bucket filled with the thick scent of blood and pretty flower petals.

Xie Qingcheng pressed a cool palm over He Yu’s eyes, and forced his head back. His expression remained cold yet empathetic.

“The sooner you release your heart, the faster you’ll heal.”

He said, voice soft like velvet.

….

"Hot tears streamed down the youth’s cheeks, soaking the angel’s palms. He swallowed hard—something still prickled in his throat.

‘I’ll do my best, Dr. Xie. I promise... I’ll do my best.’"

~𖥔☾𖤓☽𖥔~

Present day

“W-what is this? Young master—-are you sick?”

He Yu smiled at the succubus cruelly, “Very sick. To see you desire another man’s eyes, while I’m sitting here,” the young master scoffed as he held Bai Jing by her chin, “I really must be no more than a corpse to you.”

“Not at all! Young master! I made a mistake! You're all I want!”

The youth’s gaze turned oppressive, “Ah, so that’s it. I’m the one you want? Good. Good.” He stroked her head not unlike how one would a dog.

“How will you make this up to me, I wonder? You wanted that angel’s eyes, but how about you give me yours instead? Or … I think I have an even better idea.”

He Yu pressed the princess’s hand to his jaw—tenderly, like a lover.
“Gift me your supple skin,” he murmured into her palm. “I’d love to make a pair of shoes from it. Hm?”

Bai Jing’s smile faltered. Her pupils shrank, breath catching in her throat as the meaning sank in. A tremor passed through her fingers—he was still holding them.

She ripped her hand away as if burned, stumbling back from her seat. Panic overtook poise as she kicked off her heels mid-step, fleeing with wide, tear-bright eyes and a blood curdling scream.

Several heads snapped around as a woman tore through the room, running like her very soul was on the line.

Moments later, the cold, deliberate click-clack of low heels echoed in her wake.

A young man emerged—beautiful, otherworldly. Crimson horns curled from his head, black wings unfurled wide. With his hands buried in his pockets, he sauntered down the aisle, his presence dangerous and menacing. As he passed, overhead lights shattered in bursts of sparks, raining glass like falling stars. The warm glow of nearby flame lamps flickered violently—then dimmed, turning a ghostly, unnatural blue. An oppressive hush fell over the room, as though terror had rooted them to their seats.

Click.

Clack.

Click.

Clack.

Even the auctioneer paused mid sentence, expression turning as pale as death behind his mask, as Prince He sauntered down the hall and onto the stage, ignoring him entirely, as if the auctioneer was just a spec of dust clinging to the dais.

He Yu halted before the archangel, heart trembling in his chest. The man stood chained and blinded, like a beautiful, subdued deity brought low. 

His almond eyes lingered on the angel’s face, memorizing every detail—the curve of his nose, the sculpted cheekbones, the thin, silent lips, the sharp line of his jaw, the inky cascade of hair.

He hated this man more than anything. 

He loved this man more than anything. 

“Yifu, do you remember me?” 

He Yu squatted down low so they were at eye level.

“...”

“No? … I remember you.”

Xie Qingcheng’s face was as impassive as stone. But the moment he heard He Yu’s voice, humiliation swept through him, freezing the blood in his veins. And yet, even in that numbing cold, his heart still trembled violently. 

“...”

“I was enjoying myself on a date, but I figured I should come by and pay my respects. We parted on bad terms, sure—but at the end of the day, you were still the man who raised me. Even demons can feel a bit of gratitude, you know?” 

“...”

He Yu tilted his head, his low lidded eyes taking in Xie Qingcheng’s enticing form.

He was even more ravishing up close.

The transparent tulle left nothing to the imagination, with only diamonds to tuck away his angel’s most sensitive places. He Yu wanted nothing more than to drape Xie Qingcheng over his lap, pluck the precious gems away piece by piece with his teeth, and feel him thrash about as he taste him desperately. 

—A flash of red caught the young master’s eyes, and He Yu recalled that currently, Xie Qingcheng was nailed down onto the platform, his feather wings soaking in blood.

The angel wasn’t going to hold on for long.

His tone turned somber.

“Xie Qingcheng, do you want me to save you?”

Say you need me. Just once. I want you to need me.

“You can’t.”

His voice was like velvet torn across gravel—soft, yet grating.

The demon’s eyes burned with disbelief. “Can’t? And what makes you so sure?” His voice rose, sharp and mocking. “Do you have any idea what’s happened in the last two hundred years? How many abilities have I awakened? How many demons have I crushed to dust? Just the mention of my name is enough to send heaven into a panic. A single drop of my blood can bend hell to my will. So tell me, Xie Qingcheng—what makes you so sure?”

“You can’t save me, He Yu.”

Realization flooded the demon’s eyes, slow and painful.

“That’s why you let yourself get caught? You're dying. So it didn’t matter one way or another what happened next.” 

Corpses leave behind bones.

Angels leave behind a trace of fading light.

When the night was done, Xie Qingcheng wouldn’t even leave behind a body for the wretched to desecrate. 

“All these demons must have seemed like nothing more than filthy dogs biting and clawing at each other, thinking they’d sink their teeth into the moon, when this whole time, it had been the moon’s bleeding reflection in a filthy puddle.”

He Yu took Xie Qingcheng’s jaw in his hand, and felt whatever was left of his black heart shatter as his thumb traced the dried tears that stained his cold cheek.

This angel who He Yu revered as invincible and untouchable, had actually cried. 

He swallowed, the lump in his throat burning like iron. 

He lowered his delicate lashes, voice; small and hoarse, “You let them take your eyes?”

“I’m not that generous.”

He Yu’s fingers trailed up to the angel’s blindfold delicately, before the man’s sudden voice froze him in his tracks, 

“He Yu.” Xie Qingcheng croaked.

“All those years ago, I cast you out from Heaven’s gates and hurled you down to Earth. Tell me—do you truly think that by acting this way, I’d regret it? That by showing me pity, you’d somehow change my mind about you and your kind?”

He Yu sat still for a heartbeat, then let out a low, trembling laugh.

“Xie Qingcheng, you’ve raised me for how many years? I know you better than anyone. I know how cold and cruel your heart really is.”

The petals that gathered on his tongue tasted bitter and acridic.

He Yu choked on them, doubling over as more petals spilled from his lips, slick with blood, velvety purples and whites blooming in a smear of red.

He wiped his bloody lip with the pad of his thumb, eyes filled with madness and cruelty.

The demon tightened his grip on the angel’s jaw, his lips brush a fraction apart, as he sweetly whispered, 

“I only regret not bringing you to this state myself.”

~𖥔☾𖤓☽𖥔~

Yellow Crysanthumums. Slighted Love.

1. He Yu’s memories

Weeks passed after the ‘incident’.

Soon after He Yu coughed up his first petals, the archangel buried himself in his lab and his books, brewing pills that killed the flowers and scorched the thorns at their source. In the end, the hanahaki vanished. Just like smoke.

Xie Qingcheng stopped asking about He Yu’s unrequited crush, and He Yu did his best to forget the older man’s broken engagement.

Things could finally go back to how they were before.

~𖥔☾𖤓☽𖥔~

“Ghaaaaa I quit!! I quit!! Any more and my brain’s gonna explode!!”

Xie Xue cried as she wilted over her floor desk.

“He Yu! Precious shidi!” She begged shamelessly, “Write it for me?”

The demon sighed, lying down on his back, leg crossed, seemingly busy sketching something of great importance. 

“Those are holy scriptures, Shijie. If I tried writing them, wouldn’t my hands combust?”

He Yu lowered his delicate lashes, not at all satisfied by his handiwork.

“If you wore gloves, you might be able to get away with it!”

“If you cheat, I doubt you’d be able to get away with it.”

Xie Xue stuck out a tongue, expression fierce, but her didi didn’t so much as spare her a glance. 

“What are you even doing over there? Are you drawing me or something?!”

“People have been trying to immortalize beauty on canvas since time immemorial. And you think you qualify? Vanity isn’t a virtuous quality Xie jiejie.”

Just then Xie Xue snatched the page He Yu had been sketching with a shit eating grin.

“Ohhhhh lets see! What embarrassing secrets do we have here?!”

Just then, the demon bolted up in a crazed panic. 

But it was too late, Xie Xue’s excited expression morphed into a look of genuine confusion before He Yu pinned her to the ground, anxiously trying to rip the paper from her hands, eyes gleaming a dangerous red.

And what was it that she saw that had left her so stunned, she could barely breathe? 

It was none other than one of He Yu’s most precious, most sacred fantasies. 

There he was, horns curling at his temples, a black inky tail curling at his side, kissing a raven haired angel in all his inked glory. The He Yu on the page had his arm wrapped around the beauty’s silk clad waist, and the other resting on the sensual swell of the beauty’s belly that suggested the man was perhaps three months pregnant with their young. A chibi Xie Xue was drawn in a corner, so upset she had actually been moved to tears by this epic reveal. 

Xie Xue aside, the rest of the sketch itself was hyperrealistic, every tone and shadow was rendered with masterful precision—each line breathing life into the image until it seemed poised to step off the page.

It truly would have been He Yu’s finest piece, had he only managed to give his beauty a visage.

The problem was, everytime He Yu attempted to summon Xie Qingcheng’s face to his mind’s eye, it dissolved like ink in water. The shape of his eyes, the bridge of his nose, the curve of his mouth—He Yu couldn’t recall any of it. 

It was as if the archangel himself had quietly been erased from his mind.

The truth was, the hanahaki hadn’t vanished like smoke. He Yu wasn’t cured. At least, not entirely. He’d gotten better at hiding his illness, and while to others, he appeared as healthy and peaceful as could be, deep down he could feel something coil in his chest, petals suffocating in his throats, thorns biting at the back of his tongue.

The medicine was helping. But it wasn’t helping enough. 

He was utterly incurable.

He Yu’s longing for the archangel only deepened with each passing day. Yet to love Xie Qingcheng was to condemn him. And so, He Yu resolved to bury that filthy, poisonous affection deep within himself—where it could wound no one but him.

He could never have Xie Qingcheng physically. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t yearn for him. 

That he couldn’t kiss him in his mind. 

Seduce in his thoughts. 

Intertwine with him in his dreams.

And though He Yu’s imagination was rather limited at times when it came to the archangel responses, it was still better than being left with absolutely nothing.

If He Yu couldn’t even secretly hold Xie Qingcheng in his heart, he would have no reason to care whether it kept beating.

So he absolutely could not allow Xie Xue to see what he’d drawn. He couldn’t let her see his deepest desires sketched onto that page. No one was allowed to know he had feelings for Xie Qingcheng. No one. Especially not Xie Qingcheng’s little sister.

Suddenly—just as He Yu tugged the page from his shixiong’s grasp—a voice spoke from behind him. It was soft, almost gentle, yet it crept over the skin like frost spreading across glass.

“Fighting like children. It seems I haven’t disciplined you two well enough.”

The words sank into the room like a stone cast into still water.

Both adolescents shoved each other aside before collapsing to their knees, foreheads bowing low, and the air grew heavy with tension.

The archangel of justice entered with unhurried steps. His halo burned steadily above him, casting long shadows. His wings—heavy with soot—hung unfurled behind him. Silver armor clinked with his every move, the scent of smoke and blood trailing in his wake.

He stopped only once to unfasten his winged helmet. An ivory maidens emerged soundlessly from the floor to take it from his hands. Others followed, their pale forms lifting his gauntlets with reverence.

“Welcome back, my lord,” came the voices from every corner of the hall, quiet but taut with awe.

Xie Qingcheng replied with only a low, noncommittal sound, his gaze still clouded with the harrowing visions of the abyss. His body had returned home, but his mind still lingered in the shadows below.

As the archangel of justice, he alone bore the burden of overseeing the punishment to all deemed guilty by the heavenly court.

When He Yu was young, he had once begged to go with his yifu, to see the abyss and the transgressors he had subdued. But each time, Xie Qingcheng refused, his face unyielding. “Little devil, you’re not ready to carry what you’d see. Some sights carve themselves into the soul, and the abyss… never lets go.”

Back then, Xie Qingcheng’s hands had trembled, the faint shiver betraying the calm mask he wore. He Yu rose onto his toes, threading his small fingers through his yifu’s, giving a gentle squeeze. The tremor eased beneath his touch—just for a moment, but enough for He Yu to feel it.

Xie Qingcheng no longer trembled.

He’d finally become a well oiled machine.

After being silent for a long time, Xie Qingcheng finally raised his eyes as if he had just remembered he had company. Scanning the mess of papers and the toppled desks, that recent scene of He Yu pinning Xie Xue to the floor flashed past his retinas. 

“So this is how you two waste my time while I’m away? After all those hours drilling ‘priority’ into you, maybe a dog would’ve been less of a disappointment.”

“Ge—we were just playing around! It wasn’t anything serious!”

Without looking up, He Yu could tell Xie Xue was smiling easily to break the tension.

The young demon’s chest heaved.

Did she really not know her brother at all?

“Playing? You think this is an appropriate way for someone your age to play? I understand you two only feel a familial attachment to each other, with no other intentions—but you’re not related by blood. Carry on and it's inevitable that ugly rumors will spread, and that won’t be good for either of you.”

Despite feeling wronged in her heart, Xie Xue continued to kowtow in submission. When it came to her all powerful gege, her cowardice manifested ten fold, locking her in place like a caged rabbit. 

He Yu on the other hand, had no such inhibitions. 

“So from now on, we keep a one-meter distance? Call each other Mr. and Ms.? Act like polite coworkers while sharing the same roof?”

Even with his forehead pressed to the floor, his words came laced with razor-edged sarcasm.

“Make it a meter and a half.”

He Yu’s head snapped up, eyes locking onto Xie Qingcheng in open disbelief. 

The archangel did not so much as blink. His gaze drifted past the demon as though he were an empty corridor, and the stillness that followed felt colder than any rebuke.

But it wasn’t long before Xie Qingcheng’s eyes landed on something that made his temper flare anew.

When the room grew too silent to bear, Xie Xue timidly glanced up from where she was kneeling to find her older brother kneeling down to collect all her scattered paperwork.

Fuck. She was dead. Dead, dead, dead.

The way the archangel flipped through her pages one by one, was no different from an executioner sharpening his blade with each stroke. 

“I’ve coddled you too much. With work this sloppy, what master would accept you as a damn disciple? Did you think you could fool around and have the title of ‘archangel’ just fall into your lap? Tonight, you’ll take a mock exam. Fail, and you start over—every stroke, every word—until it’s flawless.”

The young angel squeaked.

He Yu still hadn’t lifted his head up from where he’d been kowtowing. The longer the two ignored him, the more erratic his heart felt. Was Xie Xue the only one at fault for messing about? Shouldn’t he be scolded as well?

Xie Qingcheng’s look of fatherly disappointment dissolved into wide eyed concern as he flipped through her pages.

“You had time to draw as well?”

“He Yu made it.”

Of all the cursed things to catch the archangel’s eye… it had to be this.

Damn it. He should’ve ripped that sketch to shreds the instant his claws touched it.

Xie Qingcheng’s gaze cut toward the young devil, pinning him in place. He Yu froze mid-prop, elbows locking, his obsidian horns glinting under the light. Wide red eyes stared up, silent and stunned.

“Xie Xue. Leave. You can study in the courtyard.”

“Ge, why are you frowning so much? It's not like He Yu was studying. So what if he drew a little? He’s just missing his parents. Are you really going to scold him for drawing his family?”

He Yu: ….

Perhaps, if he remained silent and lied very, VERY still, the floor might take pity and swallow him whole, and he can simply cease to exist. He Yu pressed his forehead into the ground, willing it to crack open and just take him already!

“Still talking?”

Xie Xue offered her da ge a quick fist-palm salute and slipped quietly out of the hall.

Even after she left, the air between He Yu and her brother throbbed with tension—like a saint about to deliver judgment and a sinner daring to meet it. Their eyes locked, sharp and unrelenting, as if the world itself collapsed around them, leaving only the two caught in a silent, suffocating standoff.

He Yu swallowed thickly and closed his eyes waiting for the proverbial guillotine to drop … but it never came. 

Instead, the archangel sighed before calling forth a jade page, ”Fetch a moon bath. I have a meeting with the high council in the seventh hour. If any visitors appear, just tell them I’m not home.”

Without another glance, he strode past He Yu and exited the lecture hall.

~𖥔☾𖤓☽𖥔~

He Yu couldn’t decide if this was heaven or hell.

However, it was apparent that amongst all of his yifu’s cruel and unusual punishments, this was the sweetest and deadliest by far.

Steam began to cling to He Yu lashes, veiling the air in a heavy haze until each breath came out thick and heated. The chamber resonated with the low roar of water as ivory maidens poured their shimmering offerings into the archangel’s bath.

The water glowed faintly, like liquid moonlight, spilling over the archangel’s bare back in seamless archs, steam curling into the air like soft smoke steeped in reverence for the divine.

He Yu knelt on the slick marble floor, much like a sinner before an altar. Except that altar was the man of his darkest desires soaking in a hot bath, so relaxed and unguarded.

Xie Qingcheng’s dark hair clung wet to the nape of his neck. Droplets gathered there before slipping in slow, sensual trails down the carved expanse of his back. They traced the deep line between his shoulder blades, kissed the lean ridges of muscle, and lingered at the small of his back as if loath to part—before vanishing into that forbidden hollow between his hips.

The demon’s breath hitched. His claws dug deep into his palms, nearly drawing blood, yet it wasn’t enough to anchor him. Heat pooled low and vicious in his gut, spreading until his cock throbbed painfully against the confines of his pants. The more he stared, the worse it became—his yifu’s body gleaming, every curve and line demanding to be traced, kissed, claimed.

He wanted him. He wanted him so much he could die.

All He Yu could do was suppress his pitiful whimpers as he pressed his thighs together, trying in vain to ease the ache, but each roll of steam only stoked it higher, until the air itself seemed laced with aphrodisiac. His mouth went dry, his chest heaved, and still his eyes refused to look away. 

Afterall, why would he? It wasn’t every day his yifu laid himself bare, divine and untouchable, offering a view so exquisite it felt like a sin merely to witness it. He Yu drank it in greedily, searing each detail into memory to replay again and again.

Like a moth to a flame.

Just then two ivory maidens knelt at his yifu’s side, dipping soft white cloths into steaming basins of moonwater, wringing them out, and washing away all the grime and ash from his wings as another maiden followed behind, combing through each plume with a fine-toothed silver comb, straightening them until they shone like fresh snow at dawn.

It was only when Xie Qingcheng swept his soaked hair back, leaning heavily against the tub’s edge, his gaze carrying the rigid authority of a throne-room sovereign—as if He Yu had been summoned to an audience rather than a bath—that He Yu finally forced his lashes low.

There was a long pause, and for a while there was just the sound of breaths. There was just curls of steam.

“Still remember the articles of faith I’ve given you?”

He Yu focused on the marbled floor and did his best to sound calm and indifferent.

“Demons originated from angels. Those who transgressed against heaven and lost their way became the fallen, and from the fallen came demons. Though our bodies have forgotten, our origin remains. Heaven is our home. And if we labor faithfully, enduring the trials of its light, we can one day too, return and be a part of heaven once more.”

“Have you been taking your medication? How do you feel?”

“Two pills a day, and two at night. The hanahaki has been cured. I’ve been staying indoors as instructed so the miasma isn’t too bad. Thanks to yifu’s efforts, I’m the picture of perfect health.”

Xie Qingcheng narrowed his eyes, as he readjusted his legs in the bathwater, folding the other in such a way, He Yu could see his pale knee peaking out from the crystal like bubbles. 

“Why do I feel like you’re lying?”

He Yu smiled helplessly at the marble floor.

“What would I gain from lying to you about this?”

“When you lie half heartedly, you tend to subconsciously purse your lips. You didn’t know?”

The young demon made the mistake of glancing up, and nearly choked when he saw his yifu raise his leg up a bit more, allowing the soap and bubbles to slide down to his inner thighs. His cool cheek resting on his fist, like a displeased tyrant.

“...”

“The hanahaki’s healed?”  

An ivory maiden knelt down, placing a sketch of He Yu’s most intimate fantasies before him, like a prosecutor laying out damning evidence.

He and his lover were kissing, soft and intimate, so full of tender love.

He and his lover were going to have a baby. Physical proof of their union. A family of their own.

He Yu’s eyes lingered over every stroke, tracing each curve and shadow with a mixture of awe and heaviness, feeling smaller and more exposed than ever.

—----- !!!!!!

Just then—like a puppet pulled on a string, the maiden smacked his back with sudden force, catching him off guard, he coughed and hacked out chunks of blood and a handful of red camellias. 

Passionate love.

“Healed my foot. You’re just as sick as before.”

Xie Qingcheng’s eyes glowed in cold contempt.

“For the next three months, you and Xie Xue are forbidden from meeting. You’ll keep to the west wing, and Xie Xue to the east. There will be no more leisure talk or play. Nod if you understand.”

He Yu wiped blood from the corner of his mouth with his dark sleeve, eyes darkening, he smiled frantically as if all the emotions in his chest combusted and his face no longer understood what expression to wear. 

“I don’t understand. Why are you so keen on separating us?”

“You can draw things like this and still wonder?” Xie Qingcheng’s eyes widened, temper flaring.

“Have some fucking shame.”

“Have you gone blind?! What part of this looks like Xie Xue? When did Xie Xue ever wear short hair like this?!”

“Next you’ll say, the mystery woman has no face. When did Xie Xue ever walk about without a face? You live under my roof, you’ll follow my rules. If you can’t manage that much, scram.”

“I’ve taken my medicine. I’ve lived every single day exactly as you ordered. My hanahaki… it’s under control. It won’t kill me. But still… still, you act like my love is some filthy contagion, a sin that must be purged, scrubbed away, erased. Yifu… tell me the truth. Is it because I’m a demon you think I have no right to love?”

He Yu’s talons dug into the rim of Xie Qingcheng’s pristine bath, white chipping beneath his grip, and he leaned in close, trembling with rage and desperation.

“Or… is it because I’m a demon you’re terrified of what I might do if I loved someone?”

The older man frowned, not feeling the least bit threatened, he took a dry towel and gently pressed it against He Yu’s blood stained lips, “I know you’re upset, but you shouldn’t be so reckless. Holy water is dangerous for little devils. One careless splash, one reckless moment can leave burns that refuse to heal. Does it hurt anywhere?”

He Yu hated the way his body betrayed him. He hated the way his heart fluttered as he leaned instinctively into his yifu’s touch, and yet he couldn’t stop it. His eyes closed, his claws gripping the edge of the bath as Xie Qingcheng’s hands moved over him with meticulous care, tending to the tiny wounds he’d inflicted on himself. His pulse raced, heat pooling low in a way that made him feel both vulnerable and desperate.

Droplets slid down the sharp edge of his jaw, trailing down the curve of his throat in sinuous lines before parting over the strong swell of his chest.

“He Yu, I know what you’re thinking.”

The demon lifted his lashes cautiously.

“You think I’m too harsh on you. That I cage you like some wild beast. That I separate you from Xie Xue only to shield her. And there is some truth in that—I am her elder brother, it is only natural I protect her. But it’s you, little devil, I’m especially worried about.”

The archangel placed the blood stained cloth aside, and threaded his slender fingers into the youth’s bed of hair, only stopping to caress the strong curl of his horn. 

“Angelhood is finally within reach, and you still act so recklessly. Every moment with her stirs your hanahaki higher, and if it blooms beyond control, even I will not be able to pull you from the shadows of your own desire and heartbreak.”

He Yu shuddered under his touch, lashes trembling.

“The best path for you both … is distance. Let Xie Xue study in peace. Let your sickness quietly fade. You are near, He Yu. Do not throw all your hard work into ruin. Live as I instruct. A cage is not always a punishment—sometimes it is shelter. Wait until your wings are healed, and when the doors open, you will be free to soar to your heart’s content.”

The demon rested his head on his folded arms at the bath’s edge, red eyes shimmering with child-like wonder.

“Once I become an angel, will I be free to be with whoever I choose?”

Xie Qingcheng frowned as He Yu nuzzled against his open palm like a docile animal.

“Should the other party be willing, yes.”

That was all He Yu needed to hear to have his motivation renewed a thousand fold.

~𖥔☾𖤓☽𖥔~

That night, He Yu writhed in his sheets, breath ragged, hand working furiously against his arching erection. Hidden in the dark, where no eyes could find him, he slaved away under his mind numbing need to release. He closed his eyes, chasing the image of Xie Qingcheng in the bath. 

Xie Qingcheng’s back arching in the water.

Xie Qingcheng sweeping his hair back, water droplets tracing the line of his arching back.

Xie Qingcheng’s voice, hoarse and velvety, echoing against the bath chamber.

Xie Qingcheng’s peach blossom shaped eyes, gazing up at him in want. In need.

Xie Qingcheng. Xie Qingcheng. Xie Qingcheng. Xie Qingcheng. Xie Qingcheng. Xie Qingcheng. Xie Qingcheng. Xie Qingcheng. Xie Qingcheng. Xie Qingcheng. Xie Qingcheng. Xie Qingcheng. Xie Qingcheng. Xie Qingcheng. Xie Qingcheng. Xie Qingcheng. Xie Qingcheng. Xie Qingcheng. Xie Qingcheng. Xie Qingcheng. Xie Qingcheng. Xie Qingcheng.

He Yu mouthed the words over and over, under his desperation to sate the gnawing hunger consuming every fiber of his body. 

Close. 

!!!!!!GASP

The steam thickened in his mind until it smothered him, swallowing his yifu whole. The memory slipped like water through his claws.

He couldn’t see him. 

He couldn’t fucking see him.

His hips bucked helplessly against his own fist. The heat coiled low and vicious, begging to break, but without Xie Qingcheng, there was nothing to anchor his pleasure, just the maddening ache of need with nowhere to go.

“Fuck—-” he bit the word into his pillow, body shuddering weakly. His cock throbbed angrily, slick with his own frustration, but the release wouldn’t come.

The youth panted in the darkness, clawing at the sheets with his free hand, “....What’s wrong with me?”

~𖥔☾𖤓☽𖥔~

XXX

2 weeks later

He Yu resides in the fourth room on the West Wing.

His walls are a serene white.

His windows oversee a magnificent rose garden. 

The flowers; a constant reminder of the violence that plagues his heart.

Xie Qingcheng tells him to pick up a new hobby. 

An instrument perhaps. 

Take his mind off his illness. 

He Yu picks up the violin, organ, and harp.

He Yu reminds himself he is close to heaven. 

And heaven is Xie Qingcheng. 

Breaking his talons and bleaching his wings white. 

It was all a small price to pay.

To have heaven in his grasp.

~𖥔☾𖤓☽𖥔~

3 months later

“Stare all you want. I’m not going back.”

He Yu crouched among the rows of his garden, pressing fresh hydrangeas into the soil with steady hands. Above him, the crow tilted its head, black glass eyes unblinking, daring him with silence.

The shadow of He Yu’s wide-brimmed summer hat cut across his face, but it couldn’t soften the chill in his eyes. His tail moved with a slow, deliberate rhythm, slicing the air side to side.

Rising to his full height, the youth brushed the dirt from his jeans with lazy precision. His gaze slid upward to the bird, a thin smile tugging at his mouth.

“Stay quiet, then. I’ll strip you feather by feather and hold you over the fire until you scream. Let’s see if silence keeps you safe.”

“Please don’t.”

A deep voice, rich and velvety, sounded near his ear.

“They’re quite expensive and rather difficult to train.”

Duan Wen. He Yu internally sneered.

Wherever Duan Wen was, the youth could tell, he was reclined and comfortable. 

“Just tell your underlings to scram if you’re so concerned. And you can forget about the compensation fees.” 

The crow fearlessly flew onto He Yu’s shoulder, radiating its master’s dark aura. Its beady eyes turned a ruby red.

“My young lord, don’t you miss home? It’s already been ten years since you flew the nest. Your father misses you.”

The youth stepped back to admire his handiwork. Beneath the row of lush, blooming red roses, young hydrangeas had begun to take root—soon to burst into soft blues and purples.

“Father is surrounded by everything he’s ever wanted—a devoted wife, a healthy heir, power, wealth, dominion. I’m surprised he can still remember the half breed son he tossed aside all those years ago. But I have everything I’ve ever wanted as well. I have my yifu. We’re happy like this, so why should I give it up? Why should I go back to hell and lose the only thing that matters to me? Just to play estranged son at his dinner table?”

“You think that archangel really sees you as a son? You’re just a pet to him. Kept in a pretty cage up on the west wing. I understand his type well. He wants you declawed and defanged. Tame. On a leash. Loyal and obedient. Turning a demon into an angel? It sounds to me like all he sees you as little more than a guinea pig.”

“Mhm. That’s fine. He can see me as a son, a pet, an experiment. As long as I’m something he likes, I don’t care what I am. My claws, fangs, even my skin. I’ll gift it all to him, gladly.”

“.... You’re insane.”

“I’m in love.”

The crow stared at him with its unblinking eyes. 

“What makes you think this isn’t just lust you’ve dressed up as love? I’ve seen the way you stare at your ‘yifu.’ If Xie Qingcheng ever glimpsed the truth of what festers in that head of yours, he wouldn’t hesitate to cut you out cleanly. Like rot from flesh—without a shred of regret.”

He Yu’s eyes flared a malicious red before he captured the bird between his claws. Face darkening, his features cold and unfeeling. He stroked the bird’s delicate, dark head with his talon.

“What’s the real purpose of your visit, Duke Duan? I don’t think you care as deeply about your earl’s and marquiss’ family matters as you pretend to.”

“They’re subordinates. Any good leader should understand the hearts of those who serve him. And you have potential to be my most valuable subordinate yet.”

He Yu’s smile didn’t meet his eyes.

“You say Xie Qingcheng sees me as a guinea pig. But you want me to come be your tool. I haven’t spoken to my own kind in years, but you’re really shameless.”

“After a life spent surrounded by lies and empty promises, I thought someone like you would appreciate the transparency. I intend to use you for what matters to me—and of course, I encourage you to use me for what matters to you. To an angel, a demon’s love can only be something filthy and destructive. Xie Qingcheng will never indulge in sin. He will never return your feelings. But we can make a deal: if it’s lust you seek, take any demon or human you desire. If it’s the archangel of justice you wish to bed … that too can be arranged.”

He Yu pinched the bird’s beak shut between his fingers, hard enough that it almost splintered. A wry smile tugged at his lips, though his eyes stayed cold.
“And what is tying him up to a bed post supposed to do for me? Duke Duan, I don’t simply crave his flesh. I also want what’s on the inside. His heart, his soul—everything. All of him, until there’s nothing left that isn’t mine.”

“Hm. How intriguing. And will playing house get you what you seek?”

“It—”

“He Yu!” 

Just then, Xie Qingcheng appeared on the balcony outside his chamber, white robes billowing like soft clouds. All he lacked was a veil, and he would have been the very image of an ethereal bride, glowering down at his unworthy groom.

“How long do you plan on staying down there, playing with birds? Come up, it’s nearly evening.”

He Yu: ....  

As soon as the youth turned back, the bird had already evaporated into black smoke in his hands. And just like that, his long distance call with Duan Wen came to an end.

~𖥔☾𖤓☽𖥔~

XXX

Once He Yu casually glided onto the balcony, wings outstretched, the sight before him stole his breath and sent his head spinning.

Xie Qingcheng was sprawled across the bed on hands and knees, stretching for something just out of sight. Maybe it was the way the intimate lighting, or the way his robes clung obscenely to the curve of his ass, the fabric riding tight with every shift of his body, but—for a heartbeat, the image was perilously close to He Yu’s morning fantasies. 

Too close.

Sensing He Yu’s arrival, the archangel turned, peach-blossom eyes cool and unyielding as they swept over him.

“Take off your shirt.”

He Yu: ?!?!??!?!?!?!!?!?!!

~𖥔☾𖤓☽𖥔~

“Yifu!—Ah… s-stroke it more gently.”
He Yu sucked in a breath, shoulders tight with strain.

“Like this? Does it hurt if I do this?”

The demon shook his head, fingers curling against the sheets. Still, he forced his voice into something that sounded almost casual.

“How does Yifu like it? The shape isn’t… too frightening?”

Xie Qingcheng’s hand stilled. “Not frightening. I just wasn’t expecting it to be this… big.”

His fingers slid slowly through the soft plumage of He Yu’s wings, tracing down each feather with deliberate care. He hadn’t touched them like this since He Yu was a child. And now… he could hardly reconcile it. The boy’s wingspan dwarfed that of an ordinary angel, wider even than his own—a fact that carried no small weight.

“Your white feathers are starting to come in,” the archangel murmured, his tone mild as he drew a damp cloth down the curve of the youth’s wings. 

It was to be expected. With no demonic miasma clouding him, no hanahaki gnawing at his chest, it was only natural that He Yu would begin to bear the signs of conversion.

He Yu hugged his dark jean-clad knees to his chest, ears burning red as a rueful smile tugged at his mouth, half-hidden in the crook of his arm.

He couldn’t shake the strange intimacy of it, Xie Qingcheng’s cool eyes tracing every detail of his plumage, those long, slender fingers  gliding with unnerving care across the bare planes of his back. Gentle. Steady. Unyielding. And still, nothing eased the restless hammer of his heart.

“....Do you like it? The white. Is it beautiful?”

The angel’s hand lingered, his voice softening without thought.

“Your wings have always been beautiful. So long as they’re strong and whole… they’ll be beautiful in any color.”

“Mhm.” 

He Yu hugged his knees tighter, face heating up.

A hush settled between them as Xie Qingcheng tended to the youth’s wings. For a while, there was nothing but the soft rhythm of their breathing and the quiet swish of damp cloth, each lost in their own thoughts.

But, as with all fragile things, the silence did not last.

“... Little devil. I will be away for a while.”

The youth froze, his shirt hanging loose in his hands. Then, with slow deliberation, he drew the fabric up over his shoulders. 

“Why?”

The archangel’s eyes followed the fabric as it drew taut across the breadth of He Yu’s shoulders before slipping down to rest against the narrow line of his waist. Shadows slid along the hollow of his spine, darkening the groove as his muscles flexed beneath the skin.

Feeling uncomfortable, Xie Qingcheng turned his gaze away.

“The Heavenly Council has called a convocation at the Empyrean Palace. Demons pour into the earthly realm unchecked. Governments rot with corruption. Wars break out faster than they can be tallied. And now, demonic cults spread like wildfire. Every archangel is being summoned to rein in the chaos before the world turns to shit—and I am no exception.”

Curse Duan Wen and his stupid fucking proxy wars. 

With chaos splitting heaven and earth, it was no wonder he’d set his sights on He Yu. A little persuasion, some fake sympathy, a few half hearted promises and he could have had an ideal spy tucked right beneath Xie Qingcheng’s shadow.

Though He Yu’s heart seethed, his face remained composed. He sat back on the bed, legs parted and with a tug that was light but stubborn, he drew Xie Qingcheng between his knees. For all the youth’s elegance, the act itself was childlike in its defiance—petulant, almost desperate.

Xie Qingcheng silently allowed him to thread their fingers together.

And suddenly all He Yu wanted was to pull him down onto his lap. And never let go. To keep him in his bed, where it was safe. To listen to his breathing. The gentle rise and fall of his chest.

Heaven could fall.

Hell could implode.

The earth could turn to ash.

They would be safe, hidden beneath his blanket. 

“When will you be back?”

“It’s uncertain.”

For a moment, silence pressed between them. 

Then, almost against his own will, Xie Qingcheng’s hand lifted. His fingers found their way into He Yu’s hair, carding through the strands with a hesitant, uneven gentleness.

The demon stilled, heart drumming wildly in his chest. His yifu so rarely allowed himself such softness, and the quiet comfort in that awkward touch struck deeper than any words could. It was so gentle it hurt, as though his heart might bleed from that delicate touch.

“There’s no telling when I’ll be back, but He Yu, I trust you to guard the palace and keep your teachings in mind. Little devil, be good. Behave until I arrive.”

The boy nodded, nuzzling the hand Xie Qingcheng used to smooth his hair.

“I have something for you.”

He Yu released his hold, watching as Xie Qingcheng bent over the mattress and retrieved a small wooden box.
“It’s been enchanted,” the archangel said curtly. “If your sickness worsens, I’ll know. Keep it on you at all times.”

He Yu opened the box—and stared. A slow grin spread across his face.
“…You got me a dog collar?”

Xie Qingcheng’s expression soured immediately.

In truth, this powerful and imposing archangel had spent far more effort on that purchase than he ever would have for himself. Were it his own, he’d have picked the first passable piece and been done with it. 

But for He Yu? He had scoured shops for nearly a week before settling on something he thought might suit the boy. The clerk had even praised his taste, assuring him the style was fashionable—quality leather, a pure silver buckle, craftsmanship of the highest grade. Supposedly, young men everywhere were clamoring for accessories like this. But of course, he'd sooner die than explain himself to this devil. 

“Forget it,” Xie Qingcheng snapped, voice sharp. “If you don’t want it, throw it away.”

“No chance.”

He Yu stepped into the mirror’s light, pressing the strip of leather snug against his throat. His lips curved, wicked and boyish all at once.

“It’s a gift from yifu. I’ll wear it every night, every morning. And when you come back…” his voice dropped, smooth as silk, “…let’s get a charm engraved with your name. So everyone knows who I belong to.”

The archangel leaned against the doorframe—jaw tight, though the faintest heat prickled at his ears.
“What makes you think I want a fucking claim?”

He Yu draped an elbow over the top of the frame, leaning down so his dark eyes met Xie Qingcheng’s. A small, mischievous smile tugged at his lips.
“But didn’t you claim me when you became my yifu? What’s wrong with a little charm to show it? After all, aren’t I already yours?”

Xie Qingcheng’s heart balked, subconsciously thrown off by their sudden closeness. In the end, he only looked off to the side, suddenly unable to think of anything to say.
“... Do whatever you want.”

A slow, triumphant smile spread across He Yu’s face. He let his fingers linger, threading gently with Xie Qingcheng’s hand.

He might just be able to survive this.

~𖥔☾𖤓☽𖥔~

24 hours, 38 min, 48 seconds  since Xie Qingcheng left

Yellow Crysanthumums. Slighted Love.

In the days that Xie Qingcheng would be away, it only made sense to He Yu that he should bury himself in things that reminded him of his yifu. Naturally, it wasn’t long before he had taken up residence in the archangel’s bedroom. 

Afterall, he was the master of the palace now, so why shouldn’t he? Who would protest? Who would stop him?

And so, upon his command, Feng Bo, the palace’s celestial chamberlain, unlocked the archangel’s beautifully carved chamber doors, admitting the demon into their lord’s most private area.

There He Yu paused at each step, taking in the vastness of the room. Its scale; both imposing and serene. White marble floors gleamed faintly under the filtered light of tall arched windows draped in sheer silk, the fabric catching the sun like drifting mist. High vaulted ceilings were etched with faint celestial patterns in gold, subtle yet impossibly elegant.

A canopy bed rested at the center, its frame carved of pale wood with gilded accents, linens pristine in shades of ivory and muted blue. Along one wall, polished oak bookshelves held orderly rows of tomes and scrolls, interrupted only by the occasional vessel of pale crystal. A single golden brazier offered steady warmth, carrying with it the faint, bittersweet scent of medicine simmering by the fire.

He Yu soaked in the sights and the smells, gently caressed the woodwork, the silk bedsheets, and even the leathery tomes his yifu had once touched. As if he could reach beyond time to touch his skin once more.

That night, Xie Qingcheng’s room was filled with the sound of coughing and hoarse groans. The scent of blood. And piles and piles of blue forget-me-nots.

~𖥔☾𖤓☽𖥔~

1 year, 3 months, 16 days since Xie Qingcheng left.

Yellow Crysanthumums. Slighted Love.

Anthony POV Part 1

War had finally broken out between heaven and hell.

All the meticulous planning, the endless tinkering, the nights spent scheming had finally borne fruit.

It should have been Xie Lishen’s moment to lean back, light a cigarette, and watch the skies bloom with the fireworks of his labor.

But who could have predicted the archangels would retaliate like this? Who could have known Xie Qingcheng would descend, shields of mercy blazing, protecting thousands of unsuspecting angels from the onslaught of his demonic army? His barrier rendering all of his destructive weapons useless? Who could have guessed he’d be humiliated so completely?

That image haunted him at every turn: Xie Qingcheng, aloft above the battlefield, nine wings unfurled in blinding majesty. Those eyes, glowing with cold, white apathy. That single wave of his hand—as though brushing aside a nuisance, swatting Lishen down like a fly. 

And after Xie Lishen was forced to mount a pathetic retreat, with his tail between his legs, General Duan had the audacity to demote him in such a miserable way. 

The ex captain recalled how that man spoke over a wave of destruction and smoke, tapping ash from his cigar as if this were all just a simple walk in the park,
“I don’t blame you captain. And neither does the empress. Xie Qingcheng is simply… a different kind of monster. One that requires a more adept hand to tame.”

The words should have soothed Anthony, but instead they curdled into his gut, feeding the bitter knot of his humiliation.

“Then why,” he ground out, “am I being forced to babysit a demon brat?”

Duan’s expression didn’t flicker.

“That ‘demon brat’ is the Empress’s hidden weapon—the sharpest piece in her arsenal. Glory isn’t only taken on blood-soaked battlefields. Let the brutes swing their swords. Your worth lies in corruption, persuasion, temptation. Skills Her Majesty knows well you possess. Convince He Yu to stand with his kin—by any means necessary—and the Empress will reward you richly.”

[He didn’t add the rest—that Xie Lishen had burned through a fifth of their forces in a vain attempt to best Xie Qingcheng, blind rage clouding his judgment. That Duan himself was already drowning in the war effort and had no time to fetch their fickle weapon. But Anthony was furious, humiliated, and desperate to prove himself. And men like that rarely failed to act.]

~𖥔☾𖤓☽𖥔~

1 year, 3 months, 28 days since Xie Qingcheng left.

Yellow Crysanthumums. Slighted Love.

Anthony POV part 2

Bypassing heaven’s gates was no easy task. 

Afterall, just the mere idea of a demon trespassing into heaven was unimaginable. Atleast, until He Yu, marquis He’s half breed son performed the miracle back when he was a child. But Anthony could give his life to the cause, and perish a thousand times before his eyes ever grace upon heaven’s holy soil. 

It was a miracle. Some bug in the system. An error. It would never happen again. Not in a millennium. Not in any lifetime. 

So begs the question; how did ye old demons who were notorious for obtaining and manipulating intel, plant eyes in heaven from all the way down in hell?

It was by using animal shaped golems of the latest design. Snakes. Rabbits. Birds.

An invention Anthony himself had tinkered and perfected over the years. Something the empress herself and Duke Duan had already begun to make great use of. But of course, Xie Lishen would spend a fortune and pour months of his time developing his feathered models, only for Duke Duan to sink them like fucking rocks at the bottom of a lake.

This time, he’d put together a crow, inconspituous and agile, to rest at young Lord He’s window. And for days it camped, cawed, and cajoled the boy to no end. But it might as well have been thin air. Between Xie Qingcheng’s overprotective charms keeping devils from passing in or out, and He Yu’s petulant silent treatment, there wasn’t much Li Shen’s prized bird could do.

Anthony watched in bitter silence as young master He slipped into his smaller form; a fluffy samoyed pup with curling red horns and a delicate set of crimson wings. Anthony watched as the pup laid nestled in his yifu’s bed, curled in a tight coil, tail wrapped around himself, whimpering faintly in his sleep. A cup of ginger tea rested by his bedside, a vase filled with poppy flowers, and a pot of bitter medicine. 

It was as if the fucking emperor had left for war, and his demure concubine had nothing better to do but barricade herself in her chambers, order the servants and weep for his safe return. Just how much did Xie Qingcheng spoil and coddle the brat to make him so?

Losing his patience, Xie Lishen tapped the youth’s window with his beak, his beady red eyes calculating. 

At last.

He tried sweetness:

“Young lord, I can see that you’re missing your daddy verryyy much! If you open your window and come with me, perhaps, I can take you to him!~”

The moment Anthony cooned, “I can take you to him!” the pup stirred. He nosed out of the blankets and padded to the glass doors, ears pricked.

That’s it, pooch. Open the damn door.

But instead, the little beast only caught the curtain in his teeth and tugged it closed—drawing the fabric neatly across the crow’s indignant glare.

…

2 years, 6 months, 19 days since Xie Qingcheng left.

After the first few months, He Yu finally shed his fur. 

The youth no longer moped as if deathly ill. 

Instead he buried himself in as many hobbies as he could find. And if he wasn’t painting, fencing, or losing himself in endless sheet music, he was talking to the quaint statues that his yifu placed all around the palace. 

Those jade boys that could only offer information that was preprogrammed for them to give. Offering no news of what transpired outside. The ivory maidens were even worse, only gliding about like many pale ghosts, doing chores and offering the most basic of greetings. At one point, Anthony sighed as the young devil pulled a duster from one of their ivory hands and attempted to do all her work for her in exchange for a bit of talk, a bit of company. Only for her to freeze like stone. 

And perhaps it was out of desperation for any kind of voice, that he’d turned to literature, passing through each and every book on Xie Qingcheng’s libraries as well as his private collections.

Everything from Wu Cheng’en’s “Journey to the West” to Homer’s “Illiad” to John Keats' "Nightingale". 

With He Yu feeling lonely and vulnerable, it might be possible to mold the youth to his accord. Surely even a crow was better company than those blocks of stone the angel kept.

A more perfect opportunity couldn’t arise if he’d wished. 

So he tried strategy:

“Young Lord He, heaven and hell are at war! Don’t you think it’s time you rose from your cradle?! Xie Qingcheng is fighting at the front lines as we speak! Open the door! Don't you wish to be at his side?!”

But the boy only lifted his violin beneath his chin, lashes lowered as if in prayer. Drowning out Anthony’s words in a melody that unfurled; wistful and romantic—every note heavy with yearning. It was only when he played like this, that the numbness that settled in his chest eased a bit, and He Yu could feel himself miss that one person with every fiber of his being. 

“My heart was a wound within,

My thoughts a dull, continuous pain,

My memory a true shadow,

When I had looked on thee in vain.”

-Percy Bysshe Shelley

3 years, 9 months, 16 days since Xie Qingcheng left.

Thunder split the skies; lightning lashed across heaven and hell alike.

If war was a violin, Anthony thought, its bow had been drawn to its limit, the next stroke would decide the piece.

Blood had been spilled on both sides. Several archangels had fallen, most grievous among them; Qin Ciyan, the Archangel of Mercy. Heaven had not stopped weeping rain since his loss. 

But hell’s banners had not escaped ruin either: Marquis He lay dead, Earl Liang reduced to ash, and Lu Yuzhu had destroyed herself—though not before leaving Anthony one final gift.

“Young Lord He. Do you miss Xie Qingcheng?”

He Yu frowned as he dipped his brush in a wash of pale blue. His gaze lifted up his canvas to meet peach blossom eyes, cool and luminous. For years that face had escaped him, dissolving at the edges like a dream half-remembered. Yet now, beneath his hand, it bloomed once more— vivid, unyielding, as though it had never left him at all.

So the little devil painted. All day and all night. 

Each stroke tender, reverent, fevered. 

His longing bled into the pigments; his devotion into the lines. 

What he could not hold, he could at least preserve.

It is time for this charade to come to an end.

At last, he tried force.

Anthony’s bird dropped a pale, lifeless finger before the demon’s glass door, like a grotesque offering.

The reaction was almost instant.

He Yu strode forward, wiping his hands on a cloth, expression unreadable as he pushed the glass door open. He paused, then bent to pick up the severed finger, lashes low. 

“Did you really think playing the deaf dog would keep you and your yifu safe? You should have seen Xie Qingcheng’s eyes when the blast struck him off guard—how pitiful he looked, dragging himself through a pool of his own blood.”

The little devil turned the finger this way and that, soaking in what had just occurred.

“If you want him back in one piece, you’d better open your doors and come quietly, like a good little pup. Do that, and perhaps Xie Qingcheng will be allowed to keep his limbs intact.”

—----Suddenly, like a burst of lighting, He Yu’s scarlet eyes flashed menacingly as his talons shot out and clamped around the crow, bones cracking like dry twigs in his grasp.

“Xie Qingcheng … Xie Qingcheng … Xie Qingcheng. You say that name over and over again as if it means something to me.”

Anthony struggled, a frenzy of feathers and broken cries, but He Yu’s grip crushed inward, puncturing through to bone. One by one his ribs snapped, sharp fragments cutting from the inside, each crack louder than the last.

“Xie Qingcheng. Is he something I should like? Huh? Why? Is he beautiful? Does he taste good?” He Yu forced the crow’s beak open with brutal ease, ramming the severed finger inside.

“For months and months you keep pestering me. You won’t shut up. It’s always Xie Qingcheng this or Xie Qingcheng that. Who exactly is Xie Qingcheng to me? Did you think just because I hear the surname “Xie” I’ll immediately fall to my knees and be his slave? Nobody in hell cares if I live or die. Nobody in heaven either. Nobody except Laoshi cares. I belong nowhere except at her side, and I will not betray her for your tedious threats. So you can tell Duke Duan—he doesn’t know me half as well as he thinks.”

The crow gagged as He Yu’s grip tightened. 

With a final squeeze, it burst into dark flame, smoldering into ash between his palms. 

He brushed the soot from his hands with a sigh.

He Yu stalked back into the room, methodically wiping each finger on a cloth while an oppressive silence settled over him. 

He faced his masterpiece and let out another long breath.

“Laoshi, please come home soon. I’m really going crazy.”

A portrait of an older woman with peach blossom eyes looked down apathetically at him. And although he’d curled up beneath her, hot tears rolling down his cheeks, her ice cool face did not soften in the least.

I’m sick, I’m sick.

I’m sick, Xie Laoshi..

I’m sick, I’m sick

There was no reply.

??? years, ??? months, ??? days since ???????? left.

He Yu bathed in the dark for what felt like hours. Ice cold water lapped at his chest, yet the demon didn’t so much as flinch. Instead, he gazed into the dark ceiling above with dull, unblinking eyes.

His dark hair clung to his forehead, and droplets fell from his fringe one by one, disappearing into the black water below.

Drip.

        Drop.

                  Drip.

                           Drop.

Finally, after years and years and years … he was cured.  

At long last, He Yu was no longer a walking contagion. 

On the contrary, the youth was healthier than he had ever been, with soft white wings as proof of heaven’s love and acceptance. 

Yet within him, something dark and bitter festered.

He no longer slept. He no longer dreamed. He no longer twisted in his sheets coughing up blood and petals. 

His sickness faded quietly, like a flame on a cool night. 

If what he wanted was to be cured, why did he feel so much worse now that he was no longer sick?

If heaven was finally in his grasp, then why did he feel so far? 

So empty? 

So numb? 

That hush, He Yu realized, was heavier than the pain.

The little bird, nestled snugly in its cage, had at last healed its wings—yet still, it could not fly. The bars restricted its movements. And all it could do was chirp endlessly and flutter its wings as if it had gone mad. After a while, He Yu mused, that bird would no longer bring itself to move. And one day, its chirps would cease as well.

A cage is not always a punishment. Sometimes it was a shelter. But sometimes, He Yu thought, just sometimes, it could also be a grave.

Just as He Yu was lost in thought, an ivory maiden expressionlessly reached forward, and attempted to wipe his horns with a pale wash cloth. 

The reaction was instantaneous—He Yu reached out and grabbed her wrist so tight, it was close to shattering.

Perhaps because it was difficult to be cross with a captor he couldn’t see, perhaps because it was infinitely easier to curse the furniture instead, He Yu’s absent mindedness melted away, and he looked down at the maiden with cold disdain.

“How many times have I told you not to touch me without permission? Try it again if you want to be a lawn ornament for the next millennia. Go on, try it!"

“Lord He.”

Feng Bo’s voice reverberated through the bath hall.
“A guest has arrived at the door. Shall I send them away, my lord?”

The demon’s eyes curved upwards as he released the statue’s wrist, her offense already long forgotten.

He Yu tilted his head, sinking deeper into the ink-dark water. Lower, lower, until the back of his neck rested against the cool stone railing.
“Mmm… is it a demon, or an angel?”

“An angel, my lord.”

A low chuckle slipped from the youth’s lips, dark and amused.

“An angel, here? How bold of them. Aren’t they scared their delicate, holy bodies might combust the moment they set foot near me? Years and years of silence, and only now they come calling. I’m really touched. Tell me—what is this angel’s name?”

~𖥔☾𖤓☽𖥔~

Yellow Crysanthumums. Slighted Love.

Xie Xue POV

“Ge!!! Ge!!!!!”

Xie Xue’s voice echoed through the hall, raw and trembling.

She slipped off her shoes and ran barefoot across the ice-cold floor. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she searched from room to room for that familiar silhouette.

Several short jade boys chased after her with their stubby jade legs.

“Xie Xiaojie, the young master wishes you to wait for him in the dining room! Xie Xiaojie, please return to the dining room!”

But it was to no avail. 

Their young miss tore through the hall, desperately searching for her older brother. Desperately wishing he would appear behind a door. Desperately hoping he would hug her and scold her for being so loud and carefree.

The truth was, she couldn’t wait. She needed to see him with her own eyes. She couldn’t wait in that cold, empty dining room where each second felt like an eternity. 

It felt like ages ago when the war began.

Back then, Xie Xue had just passed her written exams, and was sent to earth to complete her guardian angel trial. It was another step on the long, harrowing path to becoming an archangel. But she never imagined war would break out and that heaven would close its gates, barring her from home. 

So many years passed that she didn’t know if her da-ge was living or dead.

One night Wei Dongheng discovered his guardian angel on his window sill for the first time, bawling her eyes out like she was five and nearly had the fright of his life.

“Wei Dongheng you idiot! Idiot! I’ve guided you so many times! I told you not to be friends with those bullies! Not to make your parents sad! I told you but you just won’t listen! How can I prove to my da ge, that I’m capable? Even a dog won’t believe I’m capable! Idiot Dongheng! Go bald! I wish you would go bald!”

The human wrapped her in a blanket, apologizing again and again as she pounded her fists against his chest.

It was only after she calmed down, that he held her close and whispered, “You really said everything you wanted to say huh? I keep fucking up. This whole time, you’ve been watching silently, and trying to help me. I was dumb, really dumb. But right now …” He wiped her tears away with the pads of his thumb, “Miss guardian angel, this isn’t about me …  is it?”

Just then, Xie Xue rounded the corner to discover her da ge walking down stairs, his white ceremonial robes, embroidered with gold billowed as he moved, his white wings fanned out.

“Da ge!!!!! Da ge!!!!”

She cried as she charged at him with so much force that had his wings not anchored them, they’d have tumbled down the stairs.

She hugged him fiercely as she cried into his back, 

“Ge aaaaaaaaah, Da ge!! Da ge!! I was so scared … I was really so scared!! I thought you abandoned me !! I thought you turned into light and abandoned me again!! You can’t leave!! You can’t leave me!! Hug me!! Hug me!!”

She wailed and wailed. 

“Xie Laoshi, you’re finally home! I’m really so glad.”

But the face that greeted her … was not actually her da ge.

Her blood turned to ice in her veins the moment He Yu turned around, smiling down at her, eyes bloodshot. 

Everything from how He Yu dressed, to how his hair was cut, resembled Xie Qingcheng entirely. Even his scent was nostalgic of bitter medicine and poppy flowers. 

In all the days the archangel was absent, the demon had grown into him.

It was frightening. It was unnatural.

Xie Xue’s limbs fell to her side as she numbly let He Yu hug her.

Suddenly she was aware that the palace walls were filled with numerous portraits of her.

Or of someone like her. 

The women in the paintings glanced down at them from up high, their eyes were colder than Xie Xues, and they had a more mature air to them.

He Yu crumbled at her feet, clutching her pale robes with trembling fingers, “You’re home, You’re home, you’re home. I really thought I’d go insane.”

He made a sound that was a cross between a cry and a laugh,

“Laoshi, I was so scared all by myself here. Don’t leave me. You can’t leave me again. I’ll die. I’ll die. I’ll die.”

Xie Xue covered her mouth with both hands as her shoulders began to tremble, and hot tears trailed down her face. Her throat felt like a rusty can that had just opened, and for a moment she couldn’t even produce sounds.

“Aaaa” she croaked before breaking into a heart wrenching sob.

“Aaagghhhhaaa haaa!!!”

Xie Xue crumbled to her knees right in front of He Yu, alarming the demon so much his tail flicked up with shock.

“Xie Laoshi? Xie Laoshi, did I upset you? I’m sorry. I was just lonely. I just missed you. It doesn’t matter. You’re back!” He Yu gathered her up into his arms and hugged her close, rubbing soothing circles on her back as she sobbed hard into his shoulder. 

“This should be a happy moment. Please smile, Laoshi.

Look! My wings are white. Just like an angel’s.

I’ve been taking medicine and practicing hobbies. Just as you wished. My flowers are all gone. They’re really gone. I’m not sick anymore. You cured me. Yifu you cured me.”

After a moment of heavy silence, Xie Xue finally croaked, “You loved him. You really did. He Yu … I’m sorry. He isn’t coming back. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

He Yu smiled at her awkwardly with red rimmed eyes. He brushed her tears away tenderly, “Who? Laoshi? Who isn’t coming back? Whoever he is, it doesn’t matter. We have each other now, laoshi.”

Xie Xue shook her head lifelessly, “Don’t you remember him? My da ge? Your yifu? He Yu, he took you in when you were just a child. He bent the air to make it breathable for you. He tended your wounds. He fed you when you refused to eat. Don’t you remember him? Don’t you remember, Xie Qingcheng?”

The youth fell silent as all sweet tenderness left his face.

“I don’t.”

Xie Xue leaned against the wall, viciously rubbing her eyes as she spoke, “You had hanahaki. You loved him so much you were sick with it. You used to cough flowers for him all day and all night. It scared us so much. We thought you were dying.” She sniffled softly. “But it was just love. Taking away your love … would be like killing you too. I understand that. Better now than I ever did back then. I’m so sorry He Yu. I didn’t understand you. None of us did.”

The demon’s tail went still, his expression grew cold and lifeless.

Xie Xue smiled up at him with bleary, red eyes, “Want to know when I knew it was da ge who you liked? It was your art. He was all you could draw. Then you drew other things and I really didn’t know what to make of it at the time. Da ge even found one of them,” she sniffled into her sleeve, “... and got you in trouble. I never got to ask what happened after that. Did he know? What did he say? He Yu.” Xie Xue looked up at him with vibrant eyes, “Did he accept your feelings? Did he love you too?”

He Yu’s eyes darkened as he glared at Xie Xue’s reflection in a nearby mirror, his expression turning ugly, “I coughed flowers for you. I’m in love with you. Laoshi. I have always been. Tell me, are my feelings so disgusting and loathsome, that you’d make up this tale?”

“How long have you been dressing like da ge? You smell like him too. You don’t remember him, but your heart still does. You use da ge’s room. You eat the things da ge liked. Read the books he would read. But still it hurts.”

She pressed her palm to her own chest looking up at him with such heart wrenching sympathy, it burned He Yu’s blood. 

“Deep in here, you feel empty. You miss Xie Qingchen—.”

CRASSHHHH!

He Yu’s taloned fist shattered the mirror, splintering it into a storm of glittering shards.
Xie Xue flinched, throwing her arms over her face as fragments of glass rained down around her.

And for a while all she could hear was He Yu’s ragged breathing.

The angel sat in silence, before she sniffled into her arms:

“This whole time… did you know? You wouldn’t look me in the eyes—not once. Because somewhere deep down, you knew I wasn’t the one you were searching for. That I wasn’t the Xie Laoshi from the portraits. But it hurt too much to break the illusion.”

…

“I’m sorry, He Yu.” Her voice trembled. 

“I watched you suffer and said nothing. 

I’m sorry, He Yu. 

We left you. 

We kept searching for a cure when there was never a disease to begin with.”

~𖥔☾𖤓☽𖥔~

Yellow Crysanthumums. Slighted Love.

He Yu POV

He Yu turned around in quiet panic. 

It hurt. 

Looking at Xie Xue hurt. 

At first he’d thought it was because he missed her so much. Like gentle water trickling down a fresh burn. His eyes were not used to seeing her, so standing in her presence became too much. Too overwhelming. 

The demon swallowed thickly, then with shaking hands, he slowly cupped his laoshi’s head, silently beckoning her to look up. And for a moment, nothing could match the terror in his heart. For a moment, all he could hear was the sound of his heartbeat reverberating in his ears, counting each millisecond that passed by.

LUB—DUB, 

                LUB—DUB, 

                                   LUB—DUB

Xie Xue slowly looked up, meeting He Yu’s wide eyes with her bright red, teary ones. Her dark hair strands clung to her tear streaked cheeks. 

So tender and heartbroken.

With none of that cold beauty that drew He Yu to her like a moth to flame. And none of those familiar looks of fatherly concern. And none of that silent strength that reassured him in his worst moments.

Gone.

Instead, the eyes that looked back at him had a warm child-like panic to them, and a feeling of loss, of helplessness. 

Indeed, the Xie Xue in front of him had walked far away from the Xie Laoshi in his mind.

Almost as if, Laoshi never existed in the first place. 

But manifested from the weakness of his mind. 

The realization hit like a knife to the chest, and all he could do was crumble forward, forehead pressed to the ground, jaw trembling. 

He wanted to scream so much, but it felt as if there was a lump in his throat, blocking the sounds from coming out. 

It was as if a million chained stones that had been sinking him down to the abyss had vanished the moment he’d seen Xie Xue, but now it was like a million more came to drag him back by the neck—so fast … he couldn’t breathe.

If this wasn’t who he’d been waiting for all these years …

—just who the fuck was he waiting for?!!!

“He Yu?!” Xie Xue lurched forward, rubbing his back in panic as he convulsed—retching again and again, but nothing came up. He could feel something branch out in his lungs and mercilessly claw its way up his throat.

Suddenly the demon made a sharp piercing sound, like a wounded animal.

The room shuddered as portraits rattled against the walls, glass cracking into spiderweb veins. He Yu could hear Xie Xue scream as the chandelier above exploded, raining splinters of crystal and molten light.

He Yu blinked slowly as he watched black smoke radiate from his arms and legs, sucking away the light in the room at a frightening speed.

Demonic miasma.

He hadn’t experienced this in years.

The youth erupted into a violent coughing fit as he staggered to his feet, one hand braced against the wall for balance. With the other, he shielded Xie Xue from the shards of glass and debris raining down from the shattered window.

Back when He Yu was a child, back when he couldn’t contain his illness, he would generate a wicked miasma just like this. A demonic smoke that poisons and destroys everything it touches, making heaven more bearable for his body. 

Back then, every angel had been terrified to come near him.

Except—

That’s right.

It had only ever been him.

Only his yifu who dared to hold him as he cried.

Only his yifu whose voice could steady him—gentle and severe all at once.

Only his yifu who brewed the medicines for his miasma, who guided him, who taught him how to control it.

It was … Xie Qingcheng.

But now that same miasma was on the brink of consuming him whole.

And there was no Xie Qingcheng to rescue him.

Not this time.

“HE YU!!!”

Xie Xue screamed once more as a jagged piece of debris struck He Yu across the head, splitting skin—but he didn’t even flinch. Blood streamed down his temple, glass shards carved thin lines across his face, pale skin cut and gleaming. And still he stood there, shielding her.

Even as she screamed his name and pulled at his arm, He Yu didn’t budge—not an inch. It was as if his soul had already slipped free, leaving behind only a hollow shell bound to a breaking body.

Xie Xue clapped both hands over her mouth as she crumpled against the wall, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. 

He was gone—too fractured, too lost to madness for anyone to pull back.

Xie Xue’s breaths hitched as she stifled her cries. Inch by inch, she dragged herself toward safety, glass crunching beneath her palms. Just before escaping the ruin, she risked a single, final glance at the broken figure haloed in smoke and shattered light—then tore herself away.

He Yu stood motionless amid the ruins of the west wing—blood dripping down his temple, eyes empty, the miasma rolling off him in choking waves that smothered the room in shadow. Flames raced along fallen beams, gnawed through ancient tapestries, burst through marble tiles. The palace groaned as if in pain, walls buckling under the weight of collapsing rafters and molten gold.

And still, none of it harmed him. Fire curled against his body like obedient smoke, heat bending around him as though even the blaze dared not bite.

While charred debris clattered at his feet, He Yu lifted his head. Through the wreckage, through the flames, a single door stood miraculously untouched—unburned, unbroken, unscathed by his chaos. 

It drew his gaze like a thread pulled taut.

He casually strolled past the burning furniture and ivory maidens combusting silently in his wake. It was only when he opened the door that he realized he was in his old bedroom.

He Yu swept past the threshold, taking in the remaining cinders of his youth.

Xie Qingcheng had force fed him medicine on that bed. 

Xie Qingcheng had planted a garden outside He Yu’s window, hoping he would wake to something beautiful.

He never knew that he himself was the most beautiful thing He Yu longed to see each time he opened his eyes.

The youth pulled open his bedroom drawers as flames began to lick the walls. Inside, he found books and books, filled to the brim with drawings.

The first few books were scenic views and impressive architecture. But it wasn’t long before a certain man filled his pages. Talking, drinking, lost in thought. Playing music, watering the plants …. bathing. 

The youth smiled with red tinged eyes.

There was a whole section of the book, dedicated to figuring out what Xie Qingcheng looked like during sex. Several pages were torn or scribbled over. Years and years passed… he couldn’t figure it out.

He stroked the man’s blurry face with the soft pads of his fingers.

Why did he forget?

He Yu slapped himself across the face.

Why did he forget the man he loves?

SLAP!!

Was his love really this worthless? This fickle? This weak? He couldn’t even hold his face in his heart let alone his name? And he dared to love him?

SLAP!!

The demon finally shed hot tears as he flipped through the book. There must be something wrong with this head. Or perhaps his heart. 

Xie Qingcheng once said that demons weren’t far from angels. That they once shared the same origin. But maybe he was wrong. Demons weren’t capable of love. Only destruction. Only lust. Demons were known to be tricky and dishonest. And now He Yu’s played a trick on himself thinking what he felt was love.

The youth laughed and laughed. 

What a farce. What a joke. 

Maybe He Yu really was rotten to the core, incurable. Incapable of love. And incapable of being loved in return.

All he could do was sit there and laugh.

The flames had spread across the ceiling, filling the air with smoke and miasma, burning away what was left of his past.

Just as He Yu pushed himself upright, ready to abandon the ruined chamber to its flames—something glinted at the corner of his eye. There, half-buried beneath fallen plaster and shattered tiles, lay a thin glass bottle. Its gold-tinted liquid clung to the inner walls like honeyed light, refusing to spill even now.

His old medicine. For hanahaki.

The sight struck him harder than any falling beam.

The reaction was instant. 

He Yu folded in on himself as something branched savagely through his lungs, prickling, piercing—clawing its way up his throat with a brutality he’d never experienced before.

“He Yu, what you have is called, “Hanahaki”. Some think this is a fictional illness, often used to tell tragic love stories, but it’s real. And it’s deadly. As your doctor and caretaker, there is only so much I can do to deal with your current state.”

He collapsed onto all fours, retching helplessly, saliva hanging in strings from his jaw

“The sooner you release your heart, the faster you’ll heal.”

His head spun. Blood splattered onto the floor.

He coughed again.

And again.

He couldn’t stop.

There was so much blood.

“Have you been taking your medication? How do you feel?”

He had ten years of roses and ten years of blood to shed for Xie Qingcheng. And it felt as if in this moment, all that love and all that pain was pressing up all at once. Yellow petals drifted down like sickly snow, floating on the spreading pools of red.

“Two pills a day, and two at night. The hanahaki has been cured. I’ve been staying indoors as instructed so the miasma isn’t too bad. Thanks to yifu’s efforts, I’m the picture of perfect health.”

Yellow chrysanthemums burst forth one after another, thick and wet with blood as he hacked them out of his lungs.

He couldn’t see him. 

The flowers wouldn’t stop.

He couldn’t fucking see him.

Ť̷̨̜̺̹͙̖̲̟̙̝̲̘̰̟͇͖͉̖͚͎̟̒͂̀͆̔́̆͆̇̔̏͂̔̋̀͆͐̌̈́͝͝͝H̷̥̽̃̑͂̔͗̓̉̓͠E̴̡̢̛̗̪̤̪̺̝̻̭̲̪̖̮͎̝̫̰̗̘̯͑̄͌̑̄̃̌̅̌̇̈́̈́̌͐̏̔̈̓̿́͘͘͠ͅỴ̵͚͔̥͉̗̠͉̈͛ ̶̦͔͙̫̻͍̘̙͔̞̫͚̹͉̞̤̩̱̯̥̬̝̖̙̳̰̀̀̑͊́̃̆̌͋̈́̒́̾͋͊͆͐̇̄͊̑̏̂̍̉̚̚͘͝͠J̴̢̢̣͙̗̫͖̙̳̖͈͉̳͎͈̹̰̮̣̱͙͉̪̼̱̭̉̈́̈̈́̄͐̆̏̈́̐̌̃̈́̾̂̈́̓̃̓̾̕͜͝͠͠͝͝ͅU̸̧̡͙̥̻̝̗̳̫̘̮̱̲͔͍͕͎̦̗̤̙̲͎̦͖̦͍̫͚̫̻͙̯̻̼͍̭͔̓̓͑̀̇̆͆̽̾̄͋̒͑͑̋̀̆́͒̂͒̔̂̋̾̓̽́̔̉͋̉̌̑͆̊̾͘͘̕͝͝S̸̨͕͔̗͗̔́̂̄̇̐́͗̑͊͊̌̾̒͆̋͝͝͠Ţ̵̲͈̣̣̖̣̭̞̻͔̣͑̅̈́͂̈́̉̿̈́̅͊̀͆̇͌̅̆̈́͋̋̆̌͊̈͒͋͂̀̓͗̏̾̿̉̑̊͜͝͝͠͝͝͠͠ ̷̧̨͓̪͎̯͈͚̫̫̝̩̺̖͈͉͇̘͉̗̼̩̯̤̫̣͙̦̱̂͌̄͘Ŵ̷͙̗̹͎͖͓̮͖̻̩͖̹̰̠̦̻͙͕͙̟͙̳͎̝̥̳̟́̾̏͗̅̅̇̔̿̂̚͜͜͠ͅÖ̸̢͓͔̠̯̫̱̭̹̪̠͍̩̣̤̗̼̥̪̙̪̣̝̤̤̘̤̻̭̻͚͍̙̱͐̆̐̈͌͂̓̎̍͘̕͜͜ͅͅŲ̶̨̨̢̢̛͎̗̥̖̖̲͍̥̟̟͉̖͓̜̠̖͎̰̠̰͕̼̦͈̤̳̔͗̍̉͒̑́̓͗͌̊̍̇̃̕̕͝ͅL̵̡̢̢͖͇̯͔̯͕̫̱̳͎̦̰̥͇̞̟̗̤̥̞̜̜̻̳̱̹̩͚̟̦̣̻̗̥̖͇̀̒̿ͅD̸̢̧̡̢̲̰̻̦͚͙̳͉̰̫̖̫̲̦͓͍̳̺͙̬̍͋̌̅̇͝͝N̶̨̢̡̡̨͓͇̞̹̲̯̱̝̥̰͓̺͖͓̠̟̘̘͈̺̻͉̟̥̠̤͈͇͔̤͓̺̱̉̋̐̄͛̉̃̊͜ͅ'̴̢̛̱̺̬̜͙̩̗̳͆̍̅̐̾̂̄͑̏̍̄̀͐͐͋̚̕͘͠͝Ṫ̷͙͔̤̫̞̜̖̼̗̻̼̯̼̏̃̓͌́̇̓͌͗͗͜͝ͅ ̴̗̜̊̄̍͒̅̅̐̈́͑͒̓͑͘͝͠S̸̡̟̟̈́̀͌̌͊̈̒͋̊̔̆͛̄̈͐́̔̔͋̾͗̐̃̑̇̈́̿̐̈́͆́̃͛͊̿̚͠͝T̴̨̧̡̧̜̫̘͚̝̥͕͎̫̫̠̼̬̹̩̩̪̝͕̬̣͈̥̖̠̹̟͔͕̙͓̦̲̞̖͉̥̅̋̽̏͜͜Ǫ̷̧̧̛̛̤̟͕̪̤̲̳̠̣̮̳͙̙̯͇͔͖̤̫̟̠̪̳̹̖̗̪͈͓͖̝͈͚͙̲͆̀̍̋́̉̈̈́̋͆̇̐̈͆́́͑̌̿̅͒͐̆͌̓̒͌̋̀̌̀̄̋͊̎̄͘͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͠P̶̧̧̨̧̡̛̛̤͈̜̦̙̰̟͚̟̹̬̺̙͙̺̪̹̺̠̗͉͔̖͐̒́̀̏̋̓̽̑̄̒͘͜ͅ

̷͎͈͉̓͊͑̓̚

̷̘̱̉͗̎

~𖥔☾𖤓☽𖥔~

Present day

“Xie Qingcheng, what gave you the right to break my mind and steal away every last memory of the person I love?”

He Yu’s red-rimmed eyes glinted with something fractured and feral. The back of his obsidian talon traced along the archangel’s cheek in a mockingly tender stroke.

“Tell me father,” he breathed, a thin smile ghosting over his lips, “...since when did loving someone become a sin?”

Xie Qingcheng’s handsome jaw tightened with a flicker of anger before his expression cooled back into icy stillness. For a moment, He Yu thought he would say nothing at all. But when the archangel finally spoke, his voice cut through the air, soft but merciless, like winter wind passing through bone.

“What does a demon know about love? Tell me—was it love that made you pursue Xie Xue and fill your mind with those fantasies? Was it love when you put your hands on her brother, behaving worse than a beast?” 

He paused, tone still steady, still cool. 

“And now you arrive with someone new on your arm … I suppose that’s ‘love’ too, in your terms. You change partners the way people change clothes. He Yu, whatever you have isn’t love, it’s a sickness. Its obsession disguised as affection. Its lust dressed as devotion. Nothing more.”

He Yu forced the angel’s face left, then right, his gaze hard and unblinking, like coal gone cold.

“Mmm… there really must be something wrong with me,” he murmured, voice low and poisonous. “Because even now, chained, hurt, still acting like I’m filth under your heel—all I can think about is wanting you. Even when you cast me out, disown me, damn me… all I can think about is loving you. I really must be sick.”

Even now, Xie Qingcheng tilting his chin in that cold, defiant way, as though passing judgment on all the world’s sinners at once, He Yu found him utterly, maddeningly irresistible. Those cool lips that hurled curses at him looked unbearably soft… dangerously alive… and far, far too close.

He rested his forehead against the archangel’s. Their noses brushed and their breaths mingling in the tight, suspended space between them. 

He Yu had spent years in heaven breaking himself to fit into heaven’s mold, scrubbing the filth from his wings, chipping away his talons and horns, … all so he could stand at Xie Qingcheng’s side. And yet back then, even with his wings a snowy white, Xie Qingcheng had felt worlds apart. Utterly unreachable. 

Now damned and exiled, their lips a breadth apart, He Yu had never felt closer. He cupped the archangel’s face with gloved hands, tilting it just enough to whisper into the charged space between them. 

“Perhaps love was never meant to be clean,” he murmured, voice low and coiled with heat. “Maybe it was always meant to burn with lust, with obsession. Xie Qingcheng… if I told you that you were the only one I’d ever loved, the only one I ever wanted… would you believe me?”

A tense pause. Then the archangel’s voice cut through the tender silence, soft yet chilling enough to extinguish whatever warmth remained.

“You really are incurable and rotten to the core. All those years I spent healing you … teaching you … it would’ve been better spent teaching a dog to speak. I really was blind.”

He Yu let out a low, bitter laugh as the last of his hope rotted away.

There really was no point in begging a blind man to see. 

He could tear his own heart free, lay it at Xie Qingcheng’s feet, and it would mean nothing.

“All those years I tore myself apart for you… thinking you might one day let me in,” He Yu hissed, lips curling into a cruel, predatory grin. “What a joke. I should have claimed you from the start. You see, yifu… now we’re both drowning in regrets.”

Without hesitation, He Yu caught the edge of his glove between his teeth and peeled it off, baring his pale wrist. His gaze never wavered from Xie Qingcheng as he lowered his mouth and sank his canines into his own flesh slowly, deliberately. His skin parted with a soft, wet crack. Blood welled up at once, rich and hot, thickening the air with its metallic heat. He let it drip freely, pooling at the archangel’s knees like a reverent offering.

Rising to his full height, He Yu tossed a buy out seal onto the floor. The dark orb struck the pavilion with a sharp ring, rolling in a lazy arc before collapsing before the archangel, in a puddle of blood. There it burned like a dying star, drinking in the light of the vast hall, ancient fiery glyphs flaring once across its surface. Then the seal folded inward and vanished, stamping He Yu’s insignia into the stage, and all the light rushed back at once.

“Servants of the house,” He Yu said lightly, as though discussing fine porcelain, “... pack up this little treasure with care. It’s fragile, and I’d hate for it to crack before it reaches its new home.”

Then he whispered quiet and intimate, like a fingertip tracing a wound, 

“Xie Qingcheng… you won’t be my father, and you refuse to be my lover. Then don’t cry foul when I claim you as the toy I paid for.”

The platform beneath Xie Qingcheng shuddered before it began to descend. 

The angel was very calm as he sank lower and lower, blindfolded and bound.

He had no last words or curses. 

He didn’t even scowl. 

Like a martyr being sentenced to the gallows, his head was held high, dripping with stubborn satisfaction.

It was as if all his energy to deal with He Yu had been drained, and nothing He Yu did mattered anymore.

Some say, hatred is the opposite of love.

But He Yu realized now that they were wrong.

The opposite of love wasn’t hate. It was indifference.

The auctioneer slammed his cane, eyes blazing bright red under the blood gu’s control, “The buy out seal is now invoked! The seal is thus recognized. By ancient covenant and sovereign right, The House announces all bids void! The archangel is claimed by Prince He, the heir of Hell!”

His voice reverberated through the hall and He Yu watched on as legions upon legions of Volto masks filled the grand hall, frozen in place, too terrified even to draw breath.

Oh. That was right. 

The rush of emotion at meeting Xie Qingcheng again made He Yu forget they were not alone.

And that hundreds of eyes had seen Xie Qingcheng laid bare, weakened, enticing, and vulnerable.

So many demons had bid for him, for the simple, obscene desire to ravish him, to grind what little light he had left into nothing beneath their bodies. 

Others had looked upon him as one might a relic or ornament, eager to tear him apart and keep the pieces as trophies to flaunt before their rivals.

Even now, they sat in their seats submissively, while all drooling and lusting over what was his behind those masks of theirs! 

They could not comprehend heaven’s light.
And because they could not comprehend it, they feared it.
And because they feared it, they yearned to bury it, to ruin it, to defile it until it no longer reminded them of what they lacked.

Wolves and vile snakes! 

Every last one of them. 

Yet, deep down inside, He Yu knew that to Xie Qingcheng, he was no different.

The youth curved his hand into a tight fist, letting his sharp talons bite into his palms hard enough to draw blood.

“This auction is over,” he said quietly.

The words landed like a death sentence.

The great hall stirred at once, demons bristling and snarling as unrest rippled through the tiers. 

He Yu watched as their true faces broke through. 

Barons, warlords, and sorcerers of the middle circles hissed their curses under their breaths. It was insulting enough to lose the archangel to such an overwhelming display of force. But to have the remainder of the promised catalog ripped from their grasp as well was just rubbing salt in their wound!

But He Yu’s simmering bloodlust unfurled through the chamber, coiling tight as a noose. It pressed down on the hall, heavy and suffocating, locking even the boldest fiends in place. Wronged or not, not one among them was foolish enough to test the wrath of hell’s heir.

“Return what you’ve taken. Forget what you’ve seen. Those who remain will pay the price.”

He Yu paused, then let a slow smile curve as he looked upon the masked audience, 

“Consider this a mercy.”

~𖥔☾𖤓☽𖥔~

The hall grew rowdier and rowdier as many fought their way to the grand doors, while others rose indignantly from their seats, begging He Yu—no! demanding that he see reason. Meanwhile, others attempted to beseech the Servants of the House only to have their complaints fall on deaf ears.

He Yu, who no longer had any business with the auction or its patrons, casually departed behind the grand stage’s blood red curtains.

The sight that greeted the young demon was a far cry from the glimmering splendor of the prestigious stage he had just left behind. The space beyond was dim and oppressive. The scent of sweet incense hung in the air in a feeble attempt to mask the wretched stench of blood. 

Beautiful and broken things were displayed like ornaments, painted and adorned to fetch a high price.

He continued past several rows of iron cages stacked on each other like offerings: beasts with many eyes, serpentine fiends curled in on themselves, and winged creatures pinned in place. 

Some snarled and thrashed at his passing, others shrank back, pressing themselves into the shadows, sensing the weight of his presence.

At last, the youth paused before the red dragon coiled within a cage too small for her body. Iron bars bit into scarlet scales dulled by grime and dried blood. Chains wrapped her horns, her throat, her limbs—each link etched with runes meant to weigh more than mountains. One defiant wing dragged uselessly along the floor, its torn membrane hanging in tatters like a wilted sail.

He Yu watched in silence as smoke curled from her nostrils, thin and exhausted. Her single open eye tracked his every movement, wary yet keen with intelligence. That slit iris burned with unspeakable agony—and shame. Dragons were prideful creatures. They would rather die in silence than cry out for help. Yet they were lonely, too, and would sooner rot quietly than beg someone to stay.

Something inside He Yu faltered.

The emotions he had sealed away for centuries surged forward, slamming into his chest all at once. His throat tightened painfully. But the cold mask he had worn for the past few centuries was quite thick and so, tears did not come as easily as they used to anymore. 

It had been a good hundred years since feeling like this had nearly undone him.

He lowered himself to his knees before the cage, lashes trembling despite his control, palms outstretched as though he could bend time and space itself. As though he were no longer facing a dragon, but a small, hurting boy trapped in the memory of her body, confused by chains, punished for loving too openly. Still foolish enough to reach through the bars for salvation. Still hoping an angel might meet his gaze and finally understand his heart.

“You’ve come to kill me?”

The dragon’s voice rumbled low and threatening, threaded with a feminine timbre that made something in He Yu still.

“I’ve come to save you.”

“Liar. Liar.”

Her voice scraped low, each word carved slow and deliberate. “That is all demons are.”

A thin curl of smoke slipped from her jaws as she laughed without humor. “You called to me so gently. Come down. You won’t be alone. Come, we’ll play. We’ll be merry.”

The fire in her throat flared weakly, but the hatred burned bright.

“Now listen.”

She leaned closer, chains creaking, breath hot with ash. “Come here, little devil. You won’t be alone. We’ll play. We’ll be merry.”

She sang softly.

“Come closer.

I will take you with me.

I will drag you screaming into hell.”

He Yu did not flinch.

He only repeated, quietly, “I’ve come to save you.”

With the snap of his fingers, the chains shattered with a thunderous clank. The cage’s bars pitched forward, crashing to the floor—THUNK! THUNK! THUNK!

The dragon surged forward.

Her head burst from the ruin of the cage, jaws yawning wide, fangs bared, eyes blazing with raw vengeance, one breath, one heartbeat from tearing the young demon apart.

He did not move.

The world seemed to hold its breath.

At the last instant, the dragon wrenched herself back, recoiling in confusion, claws scraping stone.

“You…” Her voice slowed, uncertain now. “You are a strange demon.”

Her gaze locked onto him, searching.

“Why would you help me?”

He Yu smiled, his eyes glowing a deep ruby red.

“Because we’re kin,” he said softly. “Like you, I was barred from the sky and torn from my home. They tell me I’m free now, that I won’t be lonely, but they fear me walking among them. They want me caged. Broken. Brought to heel.”

He laughed, low and sharp. “For years, I let them believe they had me under their thumb. I fooled them all.”

Her nostrils flared as she leaned closer, drawing in his scent. Her breath ruffled his hair.

Slowly, she lowered her head.

He Yu lifted both hands and rested them against her massive snout, stroking along the warm scales as if the gesture had always been permitted. She did not pull away. 

He leaned closer, voice dropping to a near whisper. “But I think I ruined the illusion today. I couldn’t hold the fire back anymore. Now they’re afraid, and sharpening their knives.”

“They forced you to reveal your true form?” she asked.

He nodded solemnly. 

“They found my reverse scale.”

“And you had no choice but to guard it.”

The dragon nuzzled against him sympathetically, like a large cat licking his wounds.

He shivered, throat tight. “Mhm. Now I’m scared. A part of me wants to swallow that scale whole, so I don’t lose it ever again. Even if that scale grows poisonous and kills me from the inside, I can’t help but want it.”

The dragon’s great eye glimmered in the half-light, intelligent and knowing. Slowly, she raised her head, her serpent-like crimson body curled around them. “To swallow what you love,” she rumbled, voice low and resonant, “to hide it where no one can touch it… I understand that all too well. The world always tries to take what we care for most.”

She lowered her head again, letting her snout hover just above his hands, the heat of her presence brushing his skin. “But little demon… locking it inside yourself does not always protect it. It only traps it, in a place you cannot reach freely.”

Her body began to uncoil as she floated in the air, “Love is not meant to be swallowed. You need not hide it forever. Guard it. Protect it. And if you ever lose it again… if it is truly yours, it will always find its way back.”

He Yu frowned, the warmth of her presence still clinging to him. “You’re still injured,” he said quietly. “Let me tend to you.”

The dragon answered by surging upward.

With a thunderous roar, she slammed into the ceiling, shattering the domed roof in a catastrophic burst of stone and light. Debris rained down as fire blossomed around her, heat rolling outward in a wave that forced the hall to recoil. Through the ruin, the night sky split open, smoke, stars, and ash spiraling together.

“We dragons do not need medicine or magic to heal us,” she rumbled, her voice carrying through the wreckage. “Nature is what restores us. A lake purifies a water dragon’s spirit.” Her scales began to glow like molten rock. “Fire will purify mine.”

She turned once in the open air, vast and burning, her wounds already sealing beneath living flame.

“I will return home …” she said. “...but not before I claim my vengeance.”

He Yu watched her silhouette burn against the sky, unmoving, unafraid.

“You know,” he said quietly, a faint, bitter smile curving his eyes, “if I’d known you were going to leave the moment I set you free, I might have kept you a little longer.”

The dragon gave a low, rumbling sound, not quite a laugh, not quite a roar, then launched herself into the heavens, fire trailing behind her like a dying star reclaiming the dark.

~𖥔☾𖤓☽𖥔~

       Xie Qingcheng POV

Ever since losing his eyes, Xie Qingcheng had been plunged into an endless night. All he could do was hear the shallow rasps of his own breaths and taste the metallic tang of his blood rising in his throat.

At this rate, he really was going to die in a pool of his own blood. And within moments, his body would shatter into fragile beams of light, erasing him completely. 

No thoughts. No memories. No worries. No responsibilities. No heartaches.

Just gentle light. 

Death wasn’t something the archangel feared, rather, it was something he’d desired for a long, long time.

But knowing He Yu, that brat wouldn’t let him go so easily.

There were countless ways to heal an archangel.
And He Yu knew them all.

True to his name, the little devil could manifest at any moment, and force him back into painful existence out of relentless spite… or worse, insatiable lust. 

The archangel knit his brows together, took a pained breath, and pressed his ice cold hands against the strange, unyielding surface above him, and then slowly slid them down to either side.

Just as he thought, he was still in that fucking box.

Xie Qingcheng gritted his teeth and kicked the wooden wall before him violently, dragging his foot back in, and bracing himself against the box’s back wall, he slammed his foot against the wood relentlessly, again and again, like a sledge hammer.

THUNK!!—THUNK!!—THUNK!! 

Splinters tore at his skin, the wood groaning and cracking under the relentless assault. At last, a sharp snap rang out, and suddenly the panel beneath his kick splintered, giving way.

Hands outstretched in the blackness, he clawed at the opening, fingers scraping over jagged edges. Another panel cracked and splintered, sharp fragments biting into his palms.

Finally, the box gave way completely.

Darkness still pressed in around him, but he could feel the shift in space, the floor dropping, air rushing past. With a heave, he tumbled out, lungs burning, heart hammering. 

For a moment, Xie Qingcheng laid on his torn, wingless back, steadying his breathing, and readjusting his senses. 

Were they still at that den of iniquity?

The archangel really couldn’t tell. 

The raven haired man turned over onto his knees and immediately became painfully aware of the gauzy skirt that followed his movements. 

Fucking hell.

He’d almost forgotten. 

Xie Qingcheng shifted slowly to his feet, and the cool wooden floors creaked beneath his gentle steps, as he searched his surroundings, arms outstretched into a sea of blackness.

Just then! The archangel’s foot hit against a structure of some sort. His fingertips traced the outlines of a small table, and once he bent forward, he could make out a horizontal plane of some sort. He pushed against it, feeling its gentle give. 

A mattress.

He was in a bedroom.

Fucking fantastic.

Now young master He didn’t need to go through the trouble of searching for his toy. It got expedited right next to his motherfucking bed.

Huffing with anger, the archangel groped through the room until his fingers found a massive wardrobe.

Suddenly, Xie Qingcheng faced two choices.

One: take the time to dress, prepare for his own funeral, and risk running out of time.
Two: flee immediately, and risk drawing unwanted attention.

The archangel didn’t hesitate. He yanked the wardrobe doors open and rifled through the fine fabrics.

In any other perilous situation, he wouldn’t have cared what he wore. Come hell or high water, walking about nude would have been acceptable as well.

But after He Yu had first tasted Xie Qingcheng’s forbidden fruit, eyes clouded with the heat of its sweetness, sucking off the lustful juices trailing down the archangel’s pale thighs—things had changed. That intoxicating sin, Xie Qingcheng was sure, had left He Yu insatiable.

If He Yu discovered him dressed enticingly, in the close confines of his room, he would be nothing more than a ravishing dish laid out on a silver platter.

Best not to tempt the beast with the scent of blood. 

No. 

It would be better to drain himself dry first.

~𖥔☾𖤓☽𖥔~

He Yu had apparently grown even more since Xie Qingcheng had last laid eyes on him.

Even with a belt pulled tight, the youth’s trousers still hung loose on the archangel’s slim waist, the fabric gathering at his ankles and brushing his feet with every step. Xie Qingcheng pushed the sleeves up several times, but the shirt continued to sag in front, the hem nearly reaching his knees.

As the older man paused to tuck in his shirt, the candles lining the staircase flared to life one by one, casting the steps in an eerie glow.

Unaware of the light, Xie Qingcheng rested a hand against the wall and started down carefully. The wallpaper felt cool and faintly textured beneath his palm, its subtle raised pattern brushing his skin as he trailed his fingers along it for balance, until they caught on the edge of a painting’s frame.

He could feel that familiar smooth, cool wood press against his palm, and his chest suddenly began to ache.

How many decades had it been?

When the war broke out, Xie Qingcheng had been barred from home.

All those years of charging across battlefields, burying comrades, and enduring countless injuries, his thoughts never strayed far from He Yu.
Was the little devil eating properly? Was his heart aching with loneliness? Was his sickness getting worse?

It was a strange mix of feelings. Sometimes, He Yu seemed overwhelmingly talented and fiercely capable, so much so that Xie Qingcheng couldn’t help but admire him.
Other times, he seemed small and helpless, and Xie Qingcheng would fear that if he left He Yu alone for even a moment, the little devil would somehow manage to set himself on fire the instant he stepped into the kitchen.

Even after the war ended, Xie Qingcheng remembered waking up in the heavenly army’s infirmary. His wounds had not closed, his blood hadn’t congealed, yet he had desperately clawed out of his sheets, heart heavy with regret.

Fifteen years of complete isolation with no company, no other voice, no word of whether his caretaker was even alive, was enough to drive any angel to madness. Xie Qingcheng had never intended to inflict that kind of suffering on He Yu; all he had wanted was to keep him safe. Yet the cage he had built around the youth was of his own making, and it was a burden that would always be his to bear.

But nothing could have prepared him for what he saw that day.

Coming home, the walls were filled with his young sister’s face, glaring at him through a sea of fire.

He felt sick. Much too sick. Xie Qingcheng wasn’t a man that was easily phased, but this was too much.

Hundreds and thousands of pictures.

And the further he climbed through the blazing inferno, the deeper that knife seemed to cut.

He was the archangel of justice. A beacon of home. Impenetrable and unbreakable.

But his fingers trembled. And his knees had grown weak.

It was hard to breathe.

He didn’t need He Yu to think of him. Not even once. Growing up Xie Qingcheng had played the role of caretaker too often, he was used to weighing in with patriarchal concern and care, without ever expecting even a quarter as much back.

Parenthood was, in and of itself, a thankless job.

But He Yu was a demon, and Xie Xue was his younger sister.

It was natural he would feel protective over her.

Even when it came to infringing on the desires of his dearest patient. 

If Xie Qingcheng were to raise the two side by side as siblings, he could ask for nothing better.

But the thought of He Yu still holding onto to such desire, despite the archangel’s calculative attempts to free him from this depravity … it was really … infuriating.

The ugly little charm he’d specially crafted for his little devil suddenly grew heavy in his hand.

He Yu had probably forgotten all about the reunion gift he’d requested. 

It would really seem as if he had nothing in his mind for the past fifteen years than capturing Xie Xue’s likeness on canvas a million times over. 

Bringing it up would only confuse the little devil, and make the archangel feel even more pitiful and enraged. 

Xie Qingcheng allowed the little charm to slip through his fingers and lay forgotten in the flames.

A cute, round, little collar pendant:

Wherever I go, I carry home in my heart.

And in the back, three letters were neatly carved: X.Q.C.

Demons originated from angels. 

On the surface, they seemed like night and day, but Xie Qingcheng once firmly believed that they weren’t all that different deep down.

What He Yu needed perhaps wasn’t a cage.

It was a bridge.

A home.

And Xie Qingcheng really did believe that he would be that home.

For as long as He Yu would like.

He would be someone for He Yu to return to.

But then He Yu, mistaking him for his sibling, had tasted that forbidden fruit, and damned them both to hell.

Suddenly, the window behind him rattled violently under the pounding rain, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Thunder rolled, shaking the walls with each crash.

The archangel’s expression darkened.

Heading out into a storm like this?

Just his fucking luck.

A moment later, Xie Qingcheng slid his foot forward and felt solid floor beneath him. He’d finally reached the lower floor.

Blind, he let his fingertips trail along the wallpapered wall, searching for something within reach. His hand brushed a small piece of fruit on a side table. Carefully, he picked it up and tossed it ahead. The soft thud echoed across the floor, bouncing off walls and furniture, giving him a rough sense of the hallway’s length and the first doorway’s position.

High ceilings rose above him, dark wood paneling and Gothic furnishings framing the space. Step by step, he moved cautiously, listening to the echoes and feeling the floor beneath his feet, mapping the room in his mind.

There was no telling how far he was from the ground floor.

Suddenly, the idea of throwing himself out the window was starting to look more tempting. If he were lucky, he’d combust to light the second his head touched the pavement. 

Xie Qingcheng’s fingertips trailed along the wall, following the hallway until he reached an open space. The moment his hand brushed something long, flat, and smooth, he realized he had entered a room.

From somewhere nearby, soft strains of jazz floated through the air, mixed with the gentle pelting of rain. The sweet, mellow aroma of poached pear mingled with the faintly sharp tang of wine.

Xie Qingcheng frowned as his hands skimmed across the edge of the table, discovering the polished wood, the delicate curve of the cutlery, the cool porcelain of the plates. 

It seemed as if the table was set for two.

A subtle shift in the air made Xie Qingcheng pause.

A warm breath ghosted against the side of his neck, and a low, teasing voice whispered close enough for the words to vibrate against his skin.

“There you went and spoiled the surprise,” He Yu murmured.

The whisper hit him like a spark to dry tinder. 

Heart hammering, Xie Qingcheng grabbed the nearest thing—a glass of wine—and smashed it against He Yu’s head. Red liquid sprayed across them both.

The demon hissed and jerked back, but before Xie Qingcheng could reach the window, he’d knocked into a freaking armchair, and that small misstep was all it took for strong hands to pin him to the ground.

The polished floor pressed against his chest, knocking the wind out of him. Heat pressed in from He Yu’s body, unyielding and impossibly close. Xie Qingcheng groped frantically in the dark for anything he could use as leverage. But the youth brutally seized both his wrists and slammed them above his head with a single hand. 

He Yu’s chest heaved, fresh blood trickling down his temple, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. The youth leaned forth, hair sweeping over his forehead as he kissed the back of Xie Qingcheng’s neck reassuringly.

“Shhhh … yifu haaa calm down, it’s just me, haaa He Yu.”

“Why the fuck would that calm me.” Xie Qingcheng spat, chest heaving, still pinned and furious.

“Heh, its good to see you’re still so lively. That’s good. That’s really good.”

He Yu inhaled the scent of his neck like he couldn’t get enough, “mngh, I was scared. Really scared I’d go upstairs to get you … and you … I just finished preparing a holy water bath.”

The youth left open mouthed kisses against Xie Qingcheng’s neck and shoulder. 

“Fuck!”
He Yu inhaled sharply, his nose tracing the curve of his yifu’s shoulder blade.

“Is that? …. Are you wearing my clothes?”

He Yu asked with such keen interest, Xie Qingcheng could only lie there in quiet shame.

The youth moaned into his neck, “That’s so fucking sexy. Xie Qingcheng, do you know how adorable you look drowning in my clothes?”

“Fuck you.”

“Covering yourself in my scent when I’m not looking.” He Yu continued on unperturbed.

“It’s like you’re begging for my attention. And the best part is,”

He Yu bit the sensitive space between his neck, forcing the older man to swallow back his next retort, the youth continued to suck and delicately nibble that sweet spacing, relishing how taunt Xie Qingcheng’s body was getting beneath him, “... it’s very … very easy to undress you like this. 

He Yu slipped his long slender fingers down Xie Qingcheng’s waist band, and squeezed a handful of his ass. Bit by bit, he continued tugging off the archangel’s trousers while his mouth remained latched onto his skin, kissing, licking, biting, sucking.

And it was only when Xie Qingcheng’s body surrendered beneath him, his fingers going limp, that He Yu slid his hands beneath his shirt, cupping his chest, and rubbing his sensitive nipples between his slender fingers. 

“Xie Qingcheng, when I knock you up with our spawn, this would make for lovely maternity wear, don’t you think?” 

“Ah …s-shut up. Please just fucking shut up.”

The archangel’s expression grew labored and vexed under all of He Yu’s lewd touches. The demon could feel his chest heave so wantonly in his palms.

The demon yanked Xie Qingcheng’s trousers down, shoving them aside without care. Every nerve in the older man’s body screamed, heart trembling as he braced himself.

“Ah!--don’t! Stop, He Yu–don’t!” 

The demon tore at his button until the snowy fabric of his shirt slipped down his shoulders. The cold air hit his skin, sharp against the raw, gaping wounds where his wings had been ripped off.

Xie Qingcheng curled into himself, swallowing back the pain.

He Yu’s grip didn’t loosen, but something in his hold shifted. The tension in his arms faltered, just slightly, and Xie Qingcheng could feel it even without sight. 

A low, strangled sound left He Yu, half gasp, half sob. His fingers pressed harder against Xie Qingcheng’s wrists for a heartbeat, then loosened minutely as if he didn’t know what to do with the violence of his own emotion.

“Your… wings…” His voice cracked, “... they’re really gone.”

He Yu had known since their departure that Xie Qingcheng’s wings had been torn off his back. But he knew his yifu was proud, and stubborn, and would refuse to tell him why or by who.

So the youth had collected his own row of suspects from the auction hall. Every servant of the house who played a part in his auctioning had been thoroughly investigated. But even with their jaws broken, skin peeled, and appendages severed, they all claimed that they had simply found the archangel this way.

But seeing his archangel of justice lying before him, with two glaring gashes marking his flawless, pale skin, it just now sunk in … that they really were gone.

Those wings that He Yu used to hide behind when he was still a child. 

Those wings that used to shield him from the rain.

Those wings he had so often fantasized about, folding over his naked back as he pulled Xie Qingcheng’s bare body close.

Gone.

The demon’s lashes trembled as he kissed Xie Qingcheng’s back reverently. 

Just how much had his yifu suffered over the years? 

The archangel of justice protects the heavens.

But who protects him? 

He Yu carefully drew the torn shirt back over the archangel’s body, as though afraid even the air might hurt him. His fingers moved slower now, fastening each button gently, one by one.

Xie Qingcheng's voice grew hoarse, “Save your damn pity. The one who cast you down from heaven was me. Or did you forget? He Yu, nothing will make me regret what I did that day. Nothing can change my mind about you … or your kind.”

Without warning, He Yu shoved Xie Qingcheng onto his back, and for a moment, the archangel braced himself to get hit.

Except there were no talons and no teeth. 

He Yu … was kissing him. 

Xie Qingcheng moaned in surprise as He Yu’s tongue overwhelmed his own.

Their mouths moved against each other softly, sensually as each breath drove them deeper into lust.

Then Xie Qingcheng suddenly choked.

They tore apart with a wet pop, a thin strand of saliva snapping between them. Xie Qingcheng’s body jerked violently beneath He Yu, a sharp, strangled sound ripping from his throat.

He coughed.

The first bloom forced its way past his lips, blood red petals trembling with every ragged breath. It struck He Yu’s mouth before dropping between them.

For a split second, He Yu didn’t understand.

Another cough tore through Xie Qingcheng, harsher this time. More rose petals spilled out, tangled with saliva and blood. Petals clung to He Yu’s lips, his chin, his collar.

Xie Qingcheng’s fingers curled weakly against He Yu’s chest as another convulsion wracked him. Beneath his palm, He Yu could feel the tremor running through his body, fragile and uncontrollable.

The demon looked down at the archangel with something like awe in his eyes.

“Tell me, Xie Qingcheng,” he murmured softly, voice edged with something unreadable, “how long have you had hanahaki?”