Archive of Our Own

“Husband, dinner is ready,” a melodic voice calls.

Shen Qingqiu, a man now under the moniker of ‘Shen Yuan’ in this world, rises from his study. On the desk lies many various important documents. Very important. Visible among the various raunchy titles is ‘Resentment of Chunshan’.

Indeed, Shen Qingqiu had read it, annotated it, and drafted a very scathing letter to the author once done. While the names had been slightly changed, it’s clear the novel is about two people: Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe.

Shen Qingqiu wants to vomit blood at the thought. Him and Luo Binghe? Is the author daft?!

If it weren’t enough to have their relationship totally skewed – sexually charged rather than a wholesome teacher-student dynamic – the novel had even inaccurately denoted Shen Qingqiu as the victim and Luo Binghe as the aggressor. If anyone were to be the villain, that role should certainly fall on Shen Qingqiu.

That aside, not only are the two of them straighter than rulers, the relationship between them is fraught, tense, and on Luo Binghe’s end, more than a bit hateful! Should they ever reunite, it would end with blood and tears, certainly. But not from Luo Binghe plundering Shen Qingqiu’s chrysanthemum!

“Husband?”

“Yes, I’m coming, wife,” he calls over his shoulder, tucking a bookmark into the current novel of his interest.

It’s a novel detailing a barbaric foreign lord and his noble husband whom he had kidnapped from his childhood home, seducing him away from his mother and father.

Though the ‘Resentment of Chunshan’ is quite gaudy and poorly characterized – and that’s being gentle – it had certainly inspired quite a specific genre of novel being written. Male-on-male romance is all the rage these days, especially of a cruel and domineering lord kidnapping and forcing himself upon a gentle and refined nobleman.

Though he’d die before admitting it, Shen Qingqiu finds himself strangely addicted to reading them. It's a scholarly interest! Just as in his previous life he had perused his sister's BL manga once or twice, as an educational excursion.

He steps out into the dining room, taking his seat at their modest low table.

His wife, Bai Lian, is a beautiful woman. Not a stunning, 10/10 beauty the likes of which has never been seen before, of course. Those flowers could only be plucked by the protagonist himself. He’s not so stupid as to invite the wrath of the heavens unto himself by daring to take a precious jewel from the protagonist’s hand. He’s quite satisfied with a lovely young girl-next-door type.

She had been orphaned at a tender age, living by herself in the family home and tending to the herb gardens as means of maintaining a meagre income. Once she’d stumbled across a naked and somewhat feral looking Shen Qingqiu, her soft heart had led her to taking him into her home, feeding and bathing him, and gradually even falling in love with him.

Shen Qingqiu likes her well enough, her gentle words and her long dark hair and loving eyes. He likes her enough to have married her. After all, isn’t this exactly what Shen Qingqiu ever wished to have? To have a quiet life where he needn’t worry about his limbs being ripped off, it’s the ultimate dream for the scum villain!

So he lives that quiet life, day in and day out. He sleeps, reads, tends a bit to the gardens, wanders around to slay monsters for a bit of spare cash, and lives with his gentle, sweet wife.

It isn’t glamorous. It isn’t very interesting. But it’s a life, at least. If he cannot live as Shen Qingqiu – and he cannot, so long as Luo Binghe lives – then he must settle for this.

“How is your work, husband?” Bai Lian asks earnestly.

She is genuine and attentive, however she knows nothing of the cultivator life and Shen Qingqiu doesn’t wish to bore her.

When he’s tried to explain in the past, she would inevitably wind up confused and bewildered, unable to grasp the concept. The peasantry of this world were only educated enough to read and write and do basic mathematics, not understand the deep and complex theories behind qi and seals. Whatever Shen Qingqiu understands as basic, to Bai Lian it is as foreign as the history of modern China would be.

And when he’d discussed the monsters he quelled for surrounding territories, she’d become frightened. Whether it be a demon feasting on souls, a creature feasting on flesh, or even insects feasting on the rotting bodies of the dead, all of it was too cruel for Bai Lian to stomach.

Rather than worry her, he pats her hand and smiles. “All is well, wife.”

He leaves it at that. They eat quietly.

As Shen Qingqiu sleeps that night, his dream takes on a much clearer quality. When normally his dreams go by in a blur, a soupy mix of the bizarre and fantastical with his everyday life, this is more like a scene from a movie. The sun is warm, the breeze is gentle, and the scenery around him is full of fragrant bamboo.

Looking down at himself he sees long swaying robes patterned with cranes and reeds, a jade pendant swinging from his belt, and a fan tucked away at his side. He gently touches his face and feels the slight differences from the face he'd become accustomed to these past few years. His nose is a bit straighter, his brows a touch more arched, and his lips just ever-so faintly thinner.

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t need to guess where he finds himself in his dreams that night. Even if he’d been shown only a corner of this place, he’d know where he is.

Cang Qiong Mountain, Qing Jing Peak.

As he passes down the path that winds through the little bamboo grove, a group of disciples pass by him, bowing their heads in respect. Their faces are blurred and difficult to discern, typical of beings within dreams. They’re just cannon fodder anyways, so he doesn’t bother himself with them. He hadn’t even remembered their names as Shen Qingqiu.

He strides confidently towards his bamboo house, fanning himself gently as he goes. It’s a welcome sight, his cozy and humble home nestled among the groves, not ostentatious yet not shabby. It’s perfect for him.

Leaving it behind had given him some heartache, but he’d had no choice. Evacuating into the mushroom body as soon as he could had been his surefire method of ensuring his future safety. Only a few months after Luo Binghe had been kicked down the cliff, Shen Qingqiu collected the Sun Moon Dew Mushroom and went off to die.

It’s the natural solution, after all. If he, as Shen Qingqiu, simply died off, then the freshly emerged Luo Binghe could move on. His grudge will remain forever unfulfilled, but perhaps hearing of Shen Qingqiu being eaten alive by a pack of large Frenzied Three-Eyed Kingfishers would satiate some of his bloodlust. He’d chosen a most gruesome death for that purpose alone!

He approaches the house and finds that it already has someone waiting on the doorstep. It’s a man, tall and broad shouldered but thin waisted, with long curling hair pulled into a silver guan. His robes are black with exquisite silver embroidery, the threads gleaming under the daylight sun. The side of his face is pinched and stormy, staring holes through the door.

The entire tableau that the man makes should give off a severe air, but the soft sunny lighting gentles the dark colours, and gives him a soft appearance.

Shen Qingqiu’s steps hitch. He stops just a second too late, and the figure ahead of him hears his stumble. Turning slowly, Shen Qingqiu is greeted with a vision he’d thought he would never see: Luo Binghe, the fully-matured protagonist.

His face is trimmed of all childish fat, his features finer and more elegant, peach-blossom eyes framed with dark butterfly wing lashes, irises blacker than ink, and skin so light and pristine it’s nearly translucent.

His gaze is like a winter storm’s lighting, both cold and sharp, before landing with a burning heat and crackling over Shen Qingqiu’s entire being. “Shizun?”

If this were not a dream, Shen Qingqiu would perhaps be a bit frightened. But this is his dream. After all, Luo Binghe cannot know he’s alive. Only one person knows the secret, and if Shang Qinghua gave him up then he’d surrender his own emergency escape at the same time. Shen Qingqiu can rely on Shang Qinghua’s cowardice and self-serving aptitude if nothing else.

He slowly fans himself and finishes his approach to the bamboo house, standing beside his wayward disciple. His heart aches at the sight of him. Guilt has sat heavily in his stomach since the very moment he kicked Luo Binghe down, fermenting into something almost bittersweet.

Luo Binghe will hate him.

Luo Binghe will never see him again.

Luo Binghe will become something great, something untouchable, and it will be thanks to Shen Qingqiu’s betrayal.

Years ago, Shen Qingqiu had been able to rest his hand on Luo Binghe’s fluffy head without lifting his arm past his waist, and now must raise his face to meet his eyes. With a slight curl to his mouth that he cannot hide, he greets, “Binghe. You look well. Come here and let your Shizun take a look at you.”

This is his dream, after all. He can enjoy himself.

Luo Binghe’s charmingly icy expression thaws, just slightly. “Shizun... Is it you?”

He breathes out a small laugh. “Who else could it be but this master, silly child?”

Wordlessly, Luo Binghe dips his head and shuffles a bit closer. Shen Qingqiu sees pale pink dots on his cheeks and cannot restrain his hand from rising to rub Luo Binghe’s head. Luo Binghe makes a small happy noise, the same he had as a child. His heart aches, swollen and tender, threatening to burst.

Shen Qingqiu runs his fingers through the warm silk of Luo Binghe’s hair, a low pang of sadness echoing through him. “My dream is so indulgent tonight. Ah, what a shame, that I’ll never see just how truly handsome Luo Binghe must have grown up to be.”

Watching him with a winter storm brewing in his black eyes, Luo Binghe exhales slowly. As that breath leaves him, Luo Binghe’s shoulders relax, an unseen weight lifting from them. He leans into Shen Qingqiu’s palm, two fingers reaching out and lightly grabbing the trailing edge of Shen Qingqiu’s sleeve.

“It really is Shizun after all,” Luo Binghe murmurs, shyly looking up at him through those long dark lashes. “Hah. I knew it…”

“Knew what?” he asks curiously.

Luo Binghe glances over his face, then smiles. “This disciple knew that Shizun is the most handsome.”

What a smooth talker! Shen Qingqiu knows the types of lines Luo Binghe would use on his wives. Some wires must have gotten crossed in his sleeping brain which resulted in those lines being used on him. Perhaps he’s read ‘Resentment of Chunshan’ one too many times…

Well, it's not gay if it's in a dream. It’s his own brain talking to itself. He can be pleased about being complimented if it's all fake!

He pinches Luo Binghe's cheek and gives a returning smile. “Naturally Luo Binghe is the most handsome of all. Look at this face – could anyone resist the charms of a face this beautiful?”

Pink blossoms in Luo Binghe's cheeks. It’s a touch maiden-like. Very innocent on the face of a man who could be called anything but innocent. As the full-grown protagonist, Luo Binghe should actually be blackened to the core, willing to kill, torture, and usurp even the gods themselves should they stand in his way.

Perhaps it makes sense. Shen Qingqiu only knows Luo Binghe personally as a darling child. Although he should look like this, tall and masculine but with a touch of ephemeral beauty, Shen Qingqiu’s subconscious still thinks of him as he’d been in the bamboo house: obedient, cute, and sweet.

Shen Qingqiu nods in satisfaction at his own reasoning. He takes another look over Luo Binghe with a critical eye.

With a boldness that can only come from knowing he’s inside of a lucid dream, Shen Qingqiu takes a lock of Luo Binghe’s hair between his fingers, feeling its softness. He then grabs the lapels of Binghe’s robes to examine them closer, a touch impressed at his own mind at the level of detail. Without even a touch of shame, he gropes at Luo Binghe’s biceps and abs to get a sense of how strong he’s become, turning a deaf ear to the squeak that erupts from Luo Binghe’s mouth.

He’d read the novel thoroughly, taking special care to every passage describing Luo Binghe so he could commission artists to detail his favourite scenes. This is roughly what he’d imagined, though he’d pictured Luo Binghe to be a bit buffer…

He pauses and glances at the spot between Luo Binghe’s legs. Then, he shakes his head and decides against it.

“Not bad,” he says at the end of his examination. While this is a decent creation from his own mind, it makes him feel a bit sorry he’ll never see the true Luo Binghe. How much more handsome would he be? How awe-inspiring? How strong? He heaves a sigh and pats a hand on the swell of one muscular pec. Once more he mourns, “Ah, such a shame I’ll never see the real one.”

Luo Binghe is completely red now. His mouth is hung open and – is that a bit of blood seeping from one nostril? “Sh… Shizun…! You…!”

The world around him wobbles and smears, darkening around the edges like a photograph wilting in water. The clarity of it dulls into blurry shapes and colours, even Luo Binghe becoming a bit distorted as if being seen through a heatwave.

What is happening to his dream?!

“Shizun!” Luo Binghe cries, reaching out a warping hand. “Shizun, don’t wake–!”

The dream fully dissolves.

Shen Qingqiu lies in bed, blinking owlishly in confusion as Bai Lian wakes beside him and gives him a chaste peck on the cheek to bid him good morning.

The next night, going about his normal routine, Shen Qingqiu prepares himself for sleep. Their bedroom is small, befitting their quaint countryside home. They have just enough room for their bed and a few personal items, though Shen Qingqiu keeps most of his life isolated to his study. When he lays in bed, there’s enough space for him and his wife not to touch, as he tends to toss and turn.

“Husband,” Bai Lian whispers, her cheeks pink. She reaches over and lays a hand on his chest.

They're laying in their marital bed together, and she’s sending him such a tempting look. By looking at her, Shen Qingqiu knows exactly what she wants. With this setting, what else could she be asking for but papapa? Bai Lian and he rarely consummate their marriage, him much too disinterested and her much too shy to approach him often.

Not to say this is a failure on Bai Lian’s side! She's certainly an attractive woman. Her bust is not small (like any woman’s in this world based on such a sham of a novel), and her face is quite pleasant to the eye, not on the level of a supermodel but with the same charm of a ‘girl next door’ type. Regardless of her subtle beauty, he's just not in the mood.

He struggles for a moment on how to let her down.

The saint that she is, she senses his reluctance right away, and blushes crimson in shame. “I'm… Husband, I apologize…”

He kisses her chastely. “There is nothing to apologize for.”

After denying her, he closes his eyes, and he dreams.

In the dream, he is once again in the body of Shen Qingqiu. He is dressed in pale hues, fine cottons and airy silks that are light and delicate despite the plentiful layers. In his hand is a fan, painted with scenery from Qing Jing, a long tassel leading from it with a jade pendant at the end. He’s kneeled at the low table in the main room of the bamboo house, with a handsome young man seated across from him.

It’s Luo Binghe.

This time, Luo Binghe is dressed in the stark white of the disciple’s uniform. His hair is pulled back into a ponytail with an extremely simple guan, his vambraces are plain leather, and his expression is mild.

If he’d never been kicked into the Endless Abyss – if he’d never been doomed to be the protagonist – perhaps this is what Luo Binghe would have looked like if he’d never left Qing Jing. He’d have grown into a man under Shen Qingqiu’s roof, becoming taller and broader and yet always retaining that purity of youth. He’d never have been stained black with betrayal.

Shen Qingqiu can’t help but drink in the sight of him. Call him selfish. He can indulge, if only in his dreams.

He smiles and laughs lightly. “Shizun, are you happy to see me?”

Inside of a dream, Shen Qingqiu’s usual prickly defenses are lowered. He doesn’t feel shy. His own mind has crafted this image of Luo Binghe for him, suited perfectly to his own tastes – the badass OP protagonist, matured and strikingly handsome as he should be, yet still retaining a bit of the child Shen Qingqiu himself had raised. Openly, he says, “I’m always happy to see Binghe.”

Luo Binghe smiles prettily. He lowers his gaze and his cheeks go pink. He gives Shen Qingqiu a look through his lashes, playing at being shy. “Then, Shizun, wouldn’t you like to see me again? Out there, beyond the dream?”

“Of course I can’t,” Shen Qingqiu bluntly denies. “You should know that.”

Luo Binghe’s smile dulls. “Because of this disciple’s demonic heritage?”

Shen Qingqiu rolls his eyes. “Obviously not. I won’t argue about this with my own mind again. I made my choice. This is the best for the both of us. I live, and he thrives. It’s fine. Stop ruining it.”

Expression falling blank, Luo Binghe stares at him for a long moment. Eventually he says, “Shizun, how can this humble disciple of yours thrive away from your guiding hand? As a blooming flower garden needs a gardener, only with Shizun can I reach the fullness of what Shizun sees in me. Won’t Shizun at least come to see me?”

A small prickle of suspicion suddenly enters Shen Qingqiu’s mind. Of course it would feel nice for Luo Binghe to think so highly of him, but he knows better than that. Even in a dream, would he dare make the protagonist such a clingy, needy girlfriend-type?

If one were to look at this in a different way, rather than being clingy, it could actually appear instead that Luo Binghe is trying to suss him out. Lure him in to finish the job. Loathe as he is to think it, is this perhaps… the real Luo Binghe? Had he somehow cottoned onto the fact his wretched teacher was not quite so dead as advertised?

Shen Qingqiu pulls away, schooling his expression into something distant and aloof, attempting to smother his panic.

As Shen Qingqiu recedes, a change comes over Luo Binghe. For just a moment it appears that Luo Binghe’s eyes glint, sharp and cold as black diamonds.

Then, within the blink of an eye, he softens.

His body language loses all tension and becomes open, without guard. His gaze is warm and entreating, a touch reverent, just as he had been when seated across from Shen Qingqiu during those idyllic young years. After the first dream where Luo Binghe had worn robes of harsh black, the white disciple robes common on Qing Jing Peak seem even more striking. He looks young and pure wearing them, as bright and sweet as a freshly bloomed spring flower.

In appearance, Luo Binghe truly does look so much like his younger self. Luo Binghe in the novel was an actor whose skill could dupe even the gods, but even that Luo Binghe surely could not replicate such a faithful adaptation of his younger self, utterly free of hatred towards Shen Qingqiu.

“Ah, Shizun,” Luo Binghe smiles, a touch playful. He leans forward and rests his cheek on one palm. It’s a touch coquettish. “Don’t fret. This is your dream. As I am your creation.”

Can it be true?

Shen Qingqiu already knows exactly the steps Luo Binghe will take to pin the cultivation world into a stranglehold. After emerging from the Endless Abyss, Luo Binghe would inevitably worm his way into the depths of Huan Hua – a snake eating its way into the heart of it, until eventually the entire world falls into his palm.

Would he really bother wasting time chasing after Shen Qingqiu who was widely known as having died? And anyways, isn’t it yet two years too soon? Although Luo Binghe in this dream is strange, he is mostly akin to the child he reared, not acting at all blackened. So how could this possibly be the real Luo Binghe?

His heart settles and he laughs at himself.

That’s right, that's right. Of course this isn’t the real Luo Binghe!

“I really think of the protagonist as being so… cute?” Shen Qingqiu wonders aloud. His mind is a curiosity to be sure. “Ah well, he’d be handsome no matter what. It’s fine for him to act like a spoiled child.”

Luo Binghe’s cheeks turn bright red, and his eyes widen. His expression is bright and his breathing becomes excited. “Then Shizun, shall I be even more spoiled?”

The protagonist acting like a pampered rotten child should seem grotesque, bizarre, yet Shen Qingqiu finds he doesn’t mind. This is his own dream, after all. Luo Binghe would be made to suit his tastes, as unseemly as they may be. If his subconscious mind wants to coddle a needy Luo Binghe, how can he say no?

“Why not?” Shen Qingqiu says agreeably.

Without awaiting further permission, Luo Binghe skirts around the small table and promptly lays down, positioning himself in a way so half of his upper body is sprawled across Shen Qingqiu’s thighs.

How brazen! The real Luo Binghe would never have done such a thing, not even as a child! The white lotus he'd carefully raised back on Qing Jing Peak would at most massage his waist or stumble into his arms during practice, where sly excuses for his clinginess were aplenty. But this?

Shen Qingqiu decides interpreting his own mind would take too much effort and drops the issue, enjoying the sight before him. Men are simple creatures; they enjoy cute things pawing at them. It would be even better to be dreaming of a cute girl lounging on him, but Luo Binghe is certainly pretty enough that it doesn’t feel offputting.

“Tell me about your day, Shizun,” Luo Binghe entreats, laid across his lap like a large, lazy cat. His face is free of guile, the perfect picture of innocence.

Shen Qingqiu contemplates. Letting any details slip to the real Luo Binghe would be a deathknell; if Shen Qingqiu so much as implied the county he’s begun living in, hinted at the flora or the fauna nearby, then Luo Binghe would track him down within the week. Luckily, it’s much too early in the novel’s timeline for it to be of any concern!

“Ah, well, I spent the morning in the garden with A-Lian.”

“Oh? A-Lian, hm?” The name is spoken with so much sugar on Luo Binghe’s tongue it almost seems fake. “Does Shizun like spending time with her, or with me, more?” Luo Binghe’s saccharine tone doesn’t change. He clings a bit tighter to Shen Qingqiu’s thighs while gazing up at him with a warm, beseeching gaze.

Shen Qingqiu’s mouth quirks up into a smile before he can stop himself, even as a nostalgic sadness pangs miserable within the depths of his chest. It’s so painfully Binghe. The same petulant child who would sulk if Shen Qingqiu ever spent a minute more attention on any disciple that wasn’t Luo Binghe himself.

He should enjoy spending time with his beloved wife more. Of course he should.

Yet…

“I prefer Binghe.” The truth slips out of his mouth in the safety of his dream. After one bit of the truth, the rest seems to tumble past his lips without his consent. “My wife does her best, but she struggles to understand the life of a cultivator. Yet, I cannot fault her for it. The life of a countryside woman is simple, after all.”

Luo Binghe's expression spasms minutely. He opens his mouth, and closes it without saying a word.

Abruptly, the dream ends. Shen Qingqiu wakes in the middle of the night, unease trickling into him.

It cannot be the real Luo Binghe. It cannot.

Even with that wavering belief, he is unable to sleep easily for the next few nights.

When he finally sleeps deeply again, the dreams continue. They don't come every night, but often enough that Shen Qingqiu comes to anticipate and enjoy them.

He sits and talks idly with Luo Binghe, relaxed and content to sit in their shared home. Though his worries of it being the real Luo Binghe are soothed, he no longer speaks of his wife or his home, instead choosing to divert the topic to nighthunts he's undergone. Luo Binghe never pushes for more, and gradually his unease settles.

When Shen Qingqiu speaks of monsters and cultivation, dream-Luo Binghe can respond in kind with intelligence and accuracy, because it's his own mind speaking in return. Shen Qingqiu knows just about everything there is to know about this world, thanks to having binged twenty-some odd million words about it.

“– and that's why there was no choice but to lure the infant Thousand Legged Human Antipede with my own blood,” Shen Qingqiu explains, quite self-satisfied with his intelligent and witty solution to the monster issue he'd just resolved.

A Thousand Legged Human Antipede isn't exactly hostile to humans. It doesn't seek them out in order to annihilate. It simply needs food, and by unlucky chance it happens to consider humans part of its dietary options. It's not its fault!

Shen Qingqiu had felt a bit sorry so he hadn’t killed it outright. Rather, he had bled himself to lure it away with the promise of food, until it was far enough from human civilization that it would instead wander towards demonic territory and eat them instead.

A very efficient and painless solution!

So why does dream-Binghe look so unsettled?

“Shizun is very wise,” Luo Binghe says slowly, sitting up from where he'd been laying across Shen Qingqiu's lap. “However, isn't it better to handle demons with decisive action?”

Shen Qingqiu considers why his brain would ask such a question. “Isn’t that obvious? Not all demons must be killed. Decisive action must only be taken when no other avenue exists. Unnecessary killing should be avoided, always. Did this master ever preach otherwise?”

“Indeed, Shizun, it is as you say,” Luo Binghe agrees unhappily. “Only Heavenly Demons must be dealt with mercilessly, as their sin is greater than any others’.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu stare at each other silently, equally bemused.

Shen Qingqiu reaches out a gentle hand and cups Luo Binghe’s cheek. His thumb strokes over the peach-soft skin of Binghe's cheek, his fingers curling under the curve of his jaw. In Luo Binghe's eyes, where only self-assuredness should exist, there is a chasm of uncertainty.

“Why should Binghe think poorly of himself? Wouldn't he know by now just how special he is? Just how important?” It feels a bit redundant to be arguing with his own mind, but he's truly a bit baffled.

The protagonist in the novel never wavered like this. His resolve and determination were sheer and unrelenting forces, empowering him to climb even the steepest heights until he stood above both kings and gods.

Then Shen Qingqiu stops as he realizes something. “Ah. This is… Damn.”

“Shizun?” Luo Binghe asks, looking a bit miserable. He leans into Shen Qingqiu's palm, large dark eyes beseeching.

What an annoying brain Shen Qingqiu has. With his grip on Luo Binghe's jaw, he turns the protagonist's face this way and that, examining him. “So, because I feel guilty about that time, my mental image of Binghe has become so skewed? Tsk.”

In an uncontrolled movement that seems reflexive, Luo Binghe surges forward, pushing Shen Qingqiu down and pinning him there with hands on his shoulders. The back of Shen Qingqiu’s head knocks against the wooden flooring and his hair crown slips slightly, strands of hair falling free across his face.

Above him, Luo Binghe is breathless. His mouth twitches, the corner of it uncontrollably turning upwards into something that cannot quite be called a smile, almost pained. “Shizun…! Shizun! So Shizun feels guilty? Shizun admits it?”

“Of course,” Shen Qingqiu says, nodding to himself. After booting his disciple down the cliff, he’d had terrible stomach aches from the gnawing guilt for the first few weeks, only settled once he was torn apart in the most brutally gruesome fashion he could think of. “It’s not right to take that vengeance away from Binghe’s hand, but I am a selfish man, so I hid. I can’t bear for him to rip off my arms and legs with that face of his.” He pats dream-Binghe’s cheek. “Yes, this face.”

A complex look ripples over Luo Binghe’s face, as if a pebble had been thrown into a pond, disrupting the surface and obscuring the depths beneath.

Before Shen Qingqiu can begin to consider what a look like that could mean, in the next moment his vision is filled with Luo Binghe’s face and his mouth is captured in a biting kiss. The teeth gnawing at his lips are warm, sharp, and damp with saliva, leaving wet indents across his mouth.

Shen Qingqiu is so baffled by the sudden action he freezes. This isn’t his first kiss, not by far, certainly not as a married man, but it’s definitely among the worst he’s had.

As their mouths caught in the strange bite-kiss, their faces are naturally close together, their noses awkwardly pressed side-by-side and their chins knocking together. This position gives Shen Qingqiu a rather uniquely up-close glimpse at the protagonist’s charming face. In fact, neither of them have shut their eyes. While Shen Qingqiu simply looks rather confused, Luo Binghe’s eyes…

Shrouded in shadows, curtained by long feather-like lashes, Luo Binghe’s eyes should be fully obscured in the darkness, but there is something red deep within them glowing just enough to show through the blacks of his eyes. It’s an icy ember, both frigid and hot, flickering in the depths of a starless night.

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe says in a low grumble as his teeth pull away from Shen Qingqiu’s bruised lips. It’s almost a snarl, emanating from deep within his chest. The sound of it makes the fine hairs on the back of Shen Qingqiu’s neck stand on end, abruptly feeling like a prey animal pinned beneath its natural predator.

Fuck! What is this turn of events?!

“I’m not– this isn’t– I’m not gay!” Shen Qingqiu stammers.

Who is he arguing with?! This is his own dream! This is his own brain! He worms his hands between their chests and places them flat against Luo Binghe to leverage him off. In doing so, he feels the wild pounding of Luo Binghe’s heart beneath his palms, matched with his own racing pulse.

Luo Binghe doesn’t budge. Of course not. Even in this messed up dream, how can he dare think he can push the protagonist around?

“This humble disciple hungered for Shizun already, but now, how can I be satiated with just this?” Luo Binghe mutters. His breath is warm, but when it ghosts across the lingering wet imprints his teeth had left, it makes a shiver run down Shen Qingqiu’s back. “Shizun, if you regretted it, why would you leave…? How could you leave me behind?” The red within his eyes flares. Even as his tone gentles into something so soft and beguiling it could almost be pleading, his words are anything but. “How dare you… think you can leave me behind?”

He leans in and tries to kiss Shen Qingqiu again; unable to physically move away, Shen Qingqiu instead turns his face sharply to the side. Lips and teeth skid across his cheek. Rather than being put off, Luo Binghe fluidly changes his angle of attack. In the next moment, teeth latch onto the soft part of his earlobe, rubbing back and forth gently.

When Luo Binghe again rumbles, “Shizun…”, it’s directly into his ear.

Shen Qingqiu’s entire back breaks out in goosebumps.

Faintly, he says, “I need to wake up.”

At those words, the dream loses lucidity. As the owner of the dream, without him it has no form. In the same way pencil markings smudge when a thumb rubs against it, the details of the dream become soft at the edges.

The soft nibbles at his earlobe become sharp, gnawing, tugging. “Don’t,” Luo Binghe growls in warning. “Don’t wake up. Don’t leave me again. Don't–!”

Luo Binghe’s pleas do nothing to stop the dream from dissipating like smoke.

When he wakes up in bed beside his still sleeping wife, he’s hard. He’s so hard that the head of is cock is wet and swollen. His back is slick with sweat, the cotton of his sleep shirt sticking on his skin. He runs his tongue along his lower lip, half expecting it to be bitten raw.

He has half a mind to wake Bai Lian and fuck her, but then he sees her sleeping face and stops. What kind of horny animal would he be if he disrupted his wife’s rest just for his pleasure? She’s very innocent and quite shy. That aside, who in their right mind would be happy to be woken up just to have sex?

With a soft sigh, he gets out of bed and cloisters himself within the washroom until he can wring his own orgasm out. He runs his tongue over his lip again as he comes, feeling ghost imprints of teeth.

Shen Qingqiu sits at the kitchen table with a steaming cup of oolong tea. It’s a bit bitter from being oversteeped, and not the flavour he’d typically get as Shen Qingqiu which was typically something floral and fruity.

He idly toys with the rim of the cup, watching as Bai Lian putters about in the kitchen. She’s a bit harried, tending to three pots and attempting to check in on him to refill his cup. The cup is never empty, so she always silently smiles with embarrassment and scuttles back to the stove with her head bowed.

Luo Binghe would never have needed to rush around like this. That man could command an entire cooking hall without breaking a sweat, swirling between extravagant dishes with the elegance of a dancer. A simple breakfast would be child’s play for him. He could do it with one eye closed and both arms tied behind his back!

Oh.

The dream must not have been a strange coincidental one-off after all. It truly seems he must be missing his wayward disciple…

“A-Lian,” he calls after the third time his lukewarm cup is checked.

It’s a bit sweet, and something about her fussy behaviour reminds him of the sweet child he killed. Perhaps he’s been a bit harsh to her. Perhaps the dream, full of sexual innuendo, had actually been his subconscious trying to lead him to opening up more to his wife?

“Yes, husband?” Bai Lian looks over with an excited smile.

Then, something begins burning in a pot, black smoke rising. Panicked, they rush to open the windows and air out the room.

Exasperatedly scouring the pot clean of burnt residue as Lian frets over the other steaming pots on the stove, Shen Qingqiu says, “What are you making so many dishes for? You know your own limits best. You should know by now to only act within those boundaries.”

Bai Lian wilts. “A-ah. Yes, husband… You’re right, as always…”

“Silly woman,” Shen Qingqiu huffs.

The rest of breakfast is prepared in utter silence. When the meal is finally set out, limp cabbage rolls, overly watery rice, and sour pickled vegetables, Shen Qingqiu once more mourns that child he had shoved down into the Endless Abyss. Luo Binghe has been very present in his mind since the dreams began.

A deep ache suddenly pangs in his heart. He thumps a hand against his chest to silence that disobedient heart of his. Focus, Shen Qingqiu! He pictures his wife in that dream rather than Luo Binghe, talking to him comfortably on the topics of cultivation and demons, and climbing into his lap to seduce him.

Why shouldn’t his wife understand all aspects of his life? He’s tried, of course, but a few failures shouldn’t mean writing her off entirely. His subconscious mind is encouraging him!

“A-Lian.”

“...” Bai Lian slowly finishes chewing her mouthful, keeping her eyes downcast. “Yes, husband?”

Shen Qingqiu looks at her with a critical eye. The woman in front of him with her shoulders sloped down and her face gloomy is dissonant to the image of a confident and sexual Luo Binghe, as ill-fitting as oil and water. Luo Binghe would never show him such a pitiful face.

Though, he thinks, Luo Binghe would somehow make looking pathetic still quite fetching.

“Ah, A-Lian, I was thinking about one of my last adventures out,” he begins tentatively. When she perks up and looks at him with interest, he continues, “Ah, it was with a creature named a Thousand Legged Human Antipede…”

She leans forward, eyes shining excitedly.

Shen Qingqiu gradually gets into the story, waving his hands to describe the shape of the creature. As Bai Lian sits without asking any silly questions, his recalcitrance eases and he eagerly details the task of luring the monster out. “... thus, when my blood was used, the Antipede–”

“Blood?” Bai Lian gasps. “Husband, you bled?”

“Ah,” Shen Qingqiu waves his hand dismissively. “Cultivators with a golden core have very little concern for such things.”

Bai Lian has already gotten out of her seat to come and fret over Shen Qingqiu as if she’ll see him bleeding out as they speak, regardless of the fact this had already been a month back. His plant body had even healed within an hour of bleeding! “Golden core? What is that?”

“I’ve told you before,” he responds, a touch sharply. “You really don’t remember?”

He’s explained it to her a dozen times already! Even the lowest level of disciple wouldn’t require this much repetition to learn a lesson as simple as this.

Luo Binghe certainly needed to hear something only once.

Bai Lian’s hands fall still. She gives him a long look before slowly backing away. She takes the plates from the table, her movements slow, as if weighed down. Her tone is exhausted as she simply says, “Apologies, husband.”

Shen Qingqiu sighs and drops the matter entirely.

That very night, his dream opens with him inside of the bamboo house. As he comes to awareness, a hand is already dipping past the collar of his robes and pawing at his chest, its cold palm squeezing his pec. The other hand is curled behind his head, cupped against the curve of his skull. His mouth, before it can utter a single word within the dream, is pried open with eager lips and teeth.

In the blink of an eye he’s gone from laying beside his wife to sleep, to being eagerly devoured by his conjured dream image of the male stallion protagonist.

Luo Binghe is in his lap, legs spread open across his, writhing in small undulating motions against him. Nudging against his abdomen with every motion is something large and starkly hot, clearly defined even through their robes. Without even needing to see it, Shen Qingqiu knows that it can only be one thing: the heavenly pillar as foretold by twenty million words.

Parting only enough to speak, close enough that their lashes flutter against one another and their lips rub, Luo Binghe murmurs, “Shizun, Shizun,” again and again in a breathless mantra.

Shen Qingqiu is quite shocked. As a strictly heterosexual man, how could he have ever imagined that he would begin having wet dreams about performing lewd acts with the male protagonist?! Neither of them could be called even remotely gay!

Luo Binghe manages to latch his lips around Shen Qingqiu’s tongue and suckles on it, eagerly drinking his saliva. Feeling the sucking sensation and the softness of Luo Binghe’s lips around some body part of his – well, any red blooded man would automatically mentally replace that with a different body part.

A sharp crackle of heat shoots down him as he suddenly realizes that within a dream he can make whatever he wants happen. He could make Luo Binghe suck his dick as much as he wants.

Shen Qingqiu tries to erase the thought from his mind. Then, Luo Binghe grinds a heavy circle against his stomach and nibbles gently on his tongue, humming in satisfaction.

… Gay, not gay, who cares? Best not to linger on the details.

He slides a hand between their bodies and grips the large object grinding against his abdomen. Luo Binghe shudders bodily, his tongue curling in the back of Shen Qingqiu’s mouth so deeply it's as if he wants to taste his throat. The ‘object’ is searingly hot through Binghe's clothing, and just the slightest bit damp where he runs a thumb over the tip of it. His touch isn't necessarily gentle as he squeezes and gropes his way down the clothed shaft, slowly feeling out the length and girth of it.

Not bad, not bad! His mind has dreamt up what can only be a very good facsimile of the real heavenly pillar. This monument could certainly plow a woman’s fields from morning ‘til night without once becoming soft!

In the midst of shoving his tongue into Shen Qingqiu's throat, Luo Binghe moans. It's an almost girlish sound, caught between a sigh of relief and a whimper of anticipation, quiet as though Luo Binghe had tried to subdue it only for the noise to come forth despite that. Shen Qingqiu squeezes his hand again; Luo Binghe helplessly moans once again, and this time his hips jerk forcefully, his cock grinding into Shen Qingqiu's stomach.

Luo Binghe pulls back just an inch. Their mouths and chins are coated with saliva, sticky thick strands connecting them. Luo Binghe’s eyes are flat circles of ice, consuming and dark, unflinching. “Shizun. Don’t wake up. This time, you’re not allowed to wake up, not until I’ve had my fill.”

There’s that needy girlfriend act again. He smiles a bit helplessly. Doesn’t it seem that Luo Binghe is quite cute when he’s acting clingy?

The urge to soothe Binghe surges within him. Shen Qingqiu strokes the clothed erection pressing into his stomach and gently says, “Don’t fret. Shizun is here. Shizun is right here to take care of you.”

Luo Binghe’s expression warms and softens. Without another breath wasted, Luo Binghe kisses him again, tongue curling in and coiling, tasting every crevice of Shen Qingqiu’s mouth he can reach. Binghe grinds forwards, then rubs back down, making an eager sound in the back of his throat as he feels the answering erection growing in Shen Qingqiu’s pants.

This must be some Freudian way of resolving his guilty conscience. While this is certainly not the way he’d imagined working through the matter of shoving Luo Binghe down the cliffside, it’s not all that bad. Some part of him even feels a bit… excited.

They’re in the main room, but the moment Shen Qingqiu takes the initiative and pushes Luo Binghe down, the background blurs and melts seamlessly into the bedroom. It’s disorienting and his stomach swoops, like the first drop on a rollercoaster. When he stabilizes, he’s on the master bed between Luo Binghe’s thighs, their clothes falling away as if invisible hands were tugging them open.

The unseen dream force undoes Luo Binghe’s belt and slides it away. Unobstructed, Binghe’s lapels are drawn apart to bare his muscular chest, his upper robes pulled away until they catch on his vambraces.

Shen Qingqiu’s eyes rake down the swathes of silken white skin and catch on a raised piece of skin. One little line in the middle of one pec. It’s almost small enough to miss it.

“That – what is that?”

Luo Binghe smiles. “This is my gift from Shizun. That day, Shizun gifted it to me with Xiu Ya. I never allowed it to heal.”

Shen Qingqiu curses under his breath. That settles it; this truly is the product of his guilty mind. Luo Binghe would never in a million years keep the physical mark of betrayal from his scum master.

“Shizun, don’t fret,” Luo Binghe purrs. He splays his hands over his own chest, squeezing at his chest, rubbing himself playfully for Shen Qingqiu to watch. “Enjoy, Shizun. Feast on me as much as you like.”

Utterly pliant, Luo Binghe lays back in the sheets and allows himself to be disrobed by Shen Qingqiu’s filthy mind, his gaze hooded and hot, lower lip caught between white teeth, cheeks pink – a vision painted with lewd intentions.

As Luo Binghe’s legs spread open around Shen Qingqiu’s body, his pants have been drawn taut across his groin. The large shape under them is accentuated and obvious as it twitches beneath white cloth.

It’s thick as a forearm and long enough it reaches midway down his thigh, barely obscured by robes thin enough that Binghe’s precome is able to dampen the fabric until it’s see-through and the reddened skin of his cockhead can faintly be seen.

Luo Binghe watches his gaze, and arches his back slightly, emphasizing the strained fabric outlining his erection. He playfully drags one of his fingers down the length of it, toying with the wet fabric, rubbing the spot where his cock must be drooling. “Shizun, ah, do you like it?”

Shen Qingqiu swallows past a dry throat. Liking another man’s… thing… is a bit too shameful. “I’m jealous.”

In the blink of an eye, Shen Qingqiu’s clothing parts under the same invisible force. The brocaded robes fall away in a fluid motion, falling down him and exposing the length of his body. The original Shen Qingqiu had certainly been no slouch when it came to training his body, lithe and well-defined, yet certainly not as muscular nor as hung as Luo Binghe.

Luo Binghe’s lips curl into a small smile and he reaches out to lightly cradle Shen Qingqiu’s cock in his palm. “Jealous? How cute, Shizun. Don’t worry. This humble disciple will be very satisfied – Shizun may be smaller than me, but how could any part of Shizun ever be found lacking?” Luo Binghe tugs lightly, urging it to grow harder. He licks his lips slowly as Shen Qingqiu thickens in his grip. “Small or large, either way, Shizun will fuck me just as well.”

Hm. He hadn’t expected his imagination to try and soothe his ego, nor had he expected his subconscious to resolve his guilt by turning the stallion protagonist into a broodmare.

But if this is what he’s dreaming of, there’s no point in fighting it!

Shen Qingqiu wraps his hands around Luo Binghe’s waist just above the jutting of his hips. It's somehow more slender than he had expected, fitting into his grip quite pleasantly. Yet, he's also broad enough Shen Qingqiu doesn't feel as if he needs to shrink down as he must with his wife.

The last bit of clothing to vanish is Luo Binghe's pants, and as they disappear into nothing his cock is let free. Its colour is a deep peach, darker than the rest of Luo Binghe by a few shades. It's covered in thick veins that trace from the base of it towards the hooded head, accentuating the curve of it. Large as it is, it cannot stand upright under its own weight, and it hangs between Luo Binghe's thighs where it drools past the hooded foreskin onto the bedding beneath.

The sight of it alone makes Shen Qingqiu inexplicably excited. It's as if a finger crooks itself within him behind his stomach, jolting his own erection into full hardness, stiff enough to almost ache.

He wants to fuck Luo Binghe. What a strange thought.

He squeezes his hands around Luo Binghe's hips thoughtfully. This is the body of a cultivator. Moreover, this is the body of a heavenly demon, who could never be injured by someone as common as Shen Qingqiu. Even if this were not a dream, Luo Binghe couldn’t be classified as someone who would necessitate being treated gently. If Shen Qingqiu wished, he could simply hold him down and fuck him as he would a broken-in fleshlight.

Luo Binghe watches him with a dark, hot gaze, and his legs fall open to expose his defenseless depths as if hearing his thoughts. Inviting him in to ruin that dusky brown bud between his thighs.

Of course dream-Binghe know the thoughts running through his mind. Shen Qingqiu made him.

But with that face, Shen Qingqiu doesn’t find it in him to be cruel. With that face, all Shen Qingqiu wants to do is coddle and spoil him, treat him like a precious little treasure, lavished with pleasure until he can take no more. Luo Binghe deserves that. His Binghe deserves that, and a thousand times more.

Out there, his Binghe has a dozen spritely wives to tend to him. A garden of flowers, each as delicate, beautiful, and sweet as the last, all for Luo Binghe to stroll amongst and pluck as he pleases.

In here, Luo Binghe is for him and him alone.

Why should he deny his inner mind’s way of dealing with his guilt? Luo Binghe will never know what has been done to his dream image, not so long as he never uncovers Shen Qingqiu’s new identity! Although defiling the protagonist’s masculinity should certainly be a crime, if no one knows then surely it can be considered a victimless crime.

He presses his hips forward. The damp tip of his cock slides up across Luo Binghe’s ass and taint, nudging up behind the warm fullness of his balls. Rubbing against his skin already feels unbearably good; how much better will it be inside?

…

Fuck, but how can he?!

If he hasn't already begged for death enough, should the real Luo Binghe ever somehow discover his filthy thoughts then Shen Qingqiu's dream of the scum villain being castrated might actually come true. Tear off Shen Qingqiu’s limbs all you like, sir, but please leave the jewels alone…!

Rather than penetrate that little spot, Shen Qingqiu grabs Luo Binghe’s thighs and pushes them together, hooking the slender calves over Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder.

Luo Binghe tilts his head curiously. “Shizun?”

Shen Qingqiu shushes him and pushes up against the seam of his legs. Following dream logic, between his thighs is slick enough for Shen Qingqiu to stick his dick between. Luo Binghe’s body is warm and smooth. Shen Qingqiu can feel the iron muscles just beneath the skin, honed from years of training and so very different from his wife’s milk-soft body.

He looks down –

Luo Binghe lays there, spread out beneath him. His long dark hair fanned out across the bed, some strands of it curling paths down his chest and arms like black ivy cutting through a wintry bed of snow. Pushed back by Shen Qingqiu holding up his thighs, Luo Binghe’s cock is laid out over his stomach, long and thick and deep in colour. It contrasts with his slender waist and pale skin in a striking way.

When Shen Qingqiu thrusts in, he rubs alongside Luo Binghe’s cock, velvety and steaming hot. It’s impossible not to feel how much bigger Luo Binghe is, how much thicker, and how Shen Qingqiu’s cock only comes up halfway down his length.

Luo Binghe’s expression goes slack – eyes drifting shut and pink lips opening around a dirty moan. “Ohh… Shizun, that felt–”

The sound of those moans, rough and husky and distinctly masculine… Shen Qingqiu’s lower stomach clenches with pleasure, and he fucks into the warm clutch of his thighs again with more force. That pleasure is echoed in Luo Binghe, his thighs clenching down on Shen Qingqiu’s dick, his calves twitching on Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder.

The squeeze of Luo Binghe’s thighs shoots a sharp tingle of pleasure up Shen Qingqiu’s back. Helpless, he humps in and out, seeking more. It’s rough and artless.

“Shizun, nn, harder, harder!” Luo Binghe groans. His hands twist in the sheets, his back arching to press his ass into Shen Qingqiu’s thrusts.

Every thrust drags his cock along Luo Binghe’s, sweat and pre-come mixing into a sticky mess that becomes almost frothy. It’s wet enough that it dribbles back down Luo Binghe’s sac. As Shen Qingqiu continues to fuck his thighs, the wet noises of their balls slapping together echo in the room.

Luo Binghe’s hands go to their dicks, looping around them and creating a tight hole for Shen Qingqiu to fuck into. Those strong fingers, holding their cocks tightly together, accentuates just how pitiful he is next to Binghe, just how little. Luo Binghe breathlessly whines, “Yes, Shizun…! Fuck me, fuck me, please fuck me…!”

It’s filthy. Something deep within his groin tightens.

He bends further, pressing Luo Binghe’s thighs down until they’re nearly flush to his own chest. His thrusts quicken, sloppily thrusting in and out between slick thighs and into Luo Binghe’s hands to be squeezed against his cock. It’s sticky and wet and loud. His entire body feels steamed, as if thrown into a pot of boiling water, the insides of his skull and chest melty hot and wet.

Luo Binghe looks just as messy as he feels. His face is dusted with red flush, the long black hair that had artfully tumbled down his marble chest sticking in his sweat, and his stomach coated in  enough pre-come that it pools in divots of his muscles.

“Shizun, I think –” Luo Binghe starts, then cuts off with a heavy moan, his eyes fluttering and rolling up. His body tightens and curls inwards, thighs twitching, hands squeezing, head jerking forward.

Shen Qingqiu even feels it through his dick when Luo Binghe comes. Luo Binghe’s cock throbbing, the thick vein on the underside thudding with his heartbeat, velvet skin growing hotter, and his balls growing taut. In long spurts of viscous white, Luo Binghe spills across his own stomach and up his chest, catching in his hair and even splashing up his chin.

Seeing Luo Binghe with semen across his face–

Fuck.

Unable to help himself, Shen Qingqiu jerks and comes. He fucks himself through it, messily smearing semen along the insides of Luo Binghe’s thighs and pouring onto Luo Binghe’s trembling belly.

The vision beneath him wavers. The dream’s edges become blurry.

Luo Binghe can’t even beg him to stay asleep before–

Shen Qingqiu wakes with a mess inside of his trousers, inexplicably exhausted and a hundred times more satisfied than he has been anytime he’s bedded his wife despite not having gone through with deflowering Luo Binghe within his dreams.

He breathes slowly to come down from the high. Then he slaps himself across the face from the sheer embarrassment of coming in his pants like a teenage boy having his first wet dream.

How fucking humiliating!!

And from thinking about having sex with a man – with Luo Binghe! Oh, dear protagonist, kindly have mercy on this wretched soul. He will sincerely pray for forgiveness.

When a soft hand sneaks over and rubs at his stinging cheek, he nearly jumps out of his skin. Beside him, Bai Lian stares at him with wide eyes and red cheeks. “H-Husband. You…”

… Fuck. She’d watched him cream his pants in his sleep? And then slap himself like a madman?

Shen Qingqiu wants to go crawl in a hole and die.

Taking a moment to steel herself, Bai Lian sits up and pulls open her robes to bare her breasts. Her breathing is quick and shallow, the red on her face creeping down her neck. “Husband, this wife… has failed in her marital duties. If I had properly pleased you, then you would not have… ah… Husband, please allow me to satisfy you…!”

Any sane man would probably leap at the chance. A busty woman throwing herself at him, begging to have sex, who would say no? But, he’s just not in the mood anymore. She’s no stunning 11/10 like Luo Binghe who anyone could get it up for no matter how many times they fucked.

It’s an unfair comparison, but it’s the truth.

He tries to find a way to let her down gently. When he can’t, and the silence stretches for a beat too long, he simply turns and hops off of the bed. “I’m going to clean myself up. I’ll wash these myself.”

Bai Lian makes a half-hearted attempt to stop him, reaching out and grabbing his sleeve between two of her fingers. “Husband…”

Shen Qingqiu gently removes her hand and pats it once. “Don’t fret. Just go back to sleep.”

Her eyes are liquidy as he turns away to leave, shining brightly even in the low light of their room. He hears her take a shivery inhale, then lay back down, the sheets rustling.

During the day, Shen Qingqiu works. He spends time with his wife. He dines with her and lays in bed with her, all the while anticipating when he can finally lay down to dream.

Days pass.

Nights pass.

Many wet dreams are had, but Shen Qingqiu doesn’t find the nerve in him to penetrate his dream creation. Dream-Binghe is ravenous and nearly pushes him down more than a few times, but is waylaid quite easily once Shen Qingqiu finds new ways to fuck the rest of his body – his chest, his asscheeks, his armpits, his hair, and once even his mouth.

In this night’s dream, Luo Binghe sits in his lap rubbing their clothed groins together and sticking his tongue earnestly down Shen Qingqiu’s throat as if wanting to taste the very depths of it.

They’re in the bamboo house in Luo Binghe’s childhood bed. Shen Qingqiu is pressed into the stiff mattress, hands roaming across his chest, his back, his hair, everywhere grasping.

Luo Binghe’s saliva tastes good. His spit is flavoured with ginger and spices, something warm, something that reminds him of home. Shen Qingqiu eagerly sucks on his tongue to drink more and more of it, until he feels full. It's sticky and hot between them, sweat building under their clothes, drool dripping down their chins, like a sweltering sauna for them to share.

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe breathes into his mouth, pausing now and then to kiss and lick over Shen Qingqiu's teeth, “Shizun, why are you so far away from me? Why won't you come back to me?”

Now is not the time for his guilt to manifest like this. “You know why I can't.” Because Shen Qingqiu knows, his dreams must know.

“Your wife,” Luo Binghe mutters, tone more than a little bitter.

Not for the first time Shen Qingqiu wonders what the fuck is wrong with his brain. “What?”

“You stay away from – from Luo Binghe because you are married. You changed your face, your life, and wedded a girl from the Jiangsu province, so why would you come back to me now? Your happily married life…” Luo Binghe scoffs, turning his face away with his lip curling in disgust. “What could I ever provide that she could not? I cannot bear a child. I cannot do anything. I cannot even keep you…”

“I don’t even want a child,” he says, utterly confused. Really, what is wrong with his brain lately? “I can’t go back, otherwise Binghe will kill me for betraying him. Isn’t that obvious? Of course now that I've taken the three bows with her I must fulfill my marital duties, but really, what kind of woman could compare to Binghe, in any case? Certainly not A-Lian…"

Frustrated, Luo Binghe’s face scrunches up. “But, Shizun, if that’s true, just tell him that you regret it!”

Shen Qingqiu is quite tired of this argument. He disregards it and instead just pushes Luo Binghe down to hump their dicks together until they come.

It is after nearly half a month of this when Bai Lian propositions him for sex next, shyly stroking a hand up his chest and glancing up at him like a virginal maiden would. In that moment, Shen Qingqiu suddenly finds her quite attractive.

Her ink black hair, her dark eyes, the slope of her shoulders – there's something about her right in that moment that strikes him deeply, the arousal rolling over him like a hand stroking up his insides. Shen Qingqiu is hard in his pants before she even undresses, the swollen and reddened head of his cock smearing against the cotton.

With a demure expression, her eyes downturned and the tips of her ears turning pink, she undoes the ties at her side keeping her shirt closed and bares her chest. “Husband…”

The way she says it, with her voice just a touch husky, sounds somewhat familiar. It’s not what he hears in his dreams, not even close, yet it still triggers something within him. The heat coiling deep within him intensifies. He nearly tears the seams of his pants taking them off, his cock stiffly jutting out from his body with a drip of precome stretching out from its slit.

He’s never felt this way when laying with his wife. Even Bai Lian looks surprised. Between her thighs, slick begins to dribble down.

“Turn over,” Shen Qingqiu urges.

Bai Lian gives him a shy look and does so, turning onto her front. From the back, her shoulders to her hips are a mostly straight line, her bosom hidden from sight and her waist slender. Her long dark hair spills down the creamy white of her back, the gentle waves curling in the shallow dip of her spine.

Shen Qingqiu gently massages her waist and then slides his hands to her rear, spreading the cheeks open. Between her legs is a tiny little hole, dusky in colour, trembling tightly as he gazes down at it.

He's always been into anal porn, watching video upon video of petite, flat chested girls being ruthlessly fucked by a large man. Watching them squirt even with their pussies empty, their faces red and sweaty with exertion, until their asshole was left slackened and drooling white… Shen Qingqiu had gone through many boxes of tissues watching them.

Right now, looking at her, he wants to fuck her ass. He really wants to. He presses a thumb to the dry entrance, stroking the folds.

“Husband…?” his gentle wife asks quietly, body shivering.

Shen Qingqiu takes hold of himself and guides himself to her slick pussy instead, slowly pushing into the sticky heat of her. “Hush, just let me…”

Somehow, he doesn't want to hear her speak right now. Her voice is too high and too thin, when all he wants to hear is the type of deep grunting and moaning he'd hear in his favourite pornos. The same that he hears every night in his dreams.

He fucks her like that – her on her hands and knees, and Shen Qingqiu holding her open so he can watch her virgin asshole, pretending he's fucking it instead.

When he looks at her like this, with her slender back and tumbling ink hair, he thinks she almost looks like Luo –

His orgasm hits him. It feels like a hand has reached into him and ripped it out, both painful and pleasurable at once, hips jackknifing in artlessly as he finishes inside her. He's never come like this in bed with her, never fucked her this hard, and when the headrush finally dies down he hears her shaky breathing and sees the bruises on her ass he'd pressed in. This cultivator strength – it's not meant to be used on a delicate woman like her.

Cock rapidly going limp he pulls out and turns her back over, tucking her small body against his. Her eyes are wet with tears and her lips tremble. For a moment he feels a tingle of interest deep in his groin, but he stomps it out.

“Forgive me, wife,” he says. Even to his own ears his apology is shallow.

In her unending grace, Bai Lian wraps trembling arms around him. She presses her lips to his collar. Against his skin, she murmurs, “You’ve done no wrong, husband. Your pleasure is not wrong. I am only blessed that you can find it in me.”

Shen Qingqiu’s face twists. For a reason he can’t quite pinpoint, guilt sits heavily in his gut.

That night, when he sleeps, Luo Binghe is on him immediately. Within the dream, the setting is the same: the bamboo house atop Qing Jing Peak. He’s panting and drooling like a dog, humping Shen Qingqiu’s thigh in messy movements.

“I thought I might be having these dreams because I was pent up, so why am I still dreaming about this?” Shen Qingqiu grouses without heat. He has to complain in order to maintain his own self-assured heterosexuality, not because he particularly dislikes pampering Luo Binghe inside of his dream realm.

Luo Binghe stills. A strange smile crosses his face. “Shizun, what do you mean?”

“You know. If a man doesn’t, ah, express himself often enough…” Shen Qingqiu coughs lightly in embarrassment. It’s very obvious, isn’t it?! “That is to say, if a man lays with his wife, shouldn’t his mind and body both be satiated? Is there something wrong with me? Perhaps I should see a docto–oof!”

Luo Binghe shoves him down forcefully, that same strange smile growing, until his lips part and the whites of his teeth can be seen. “Shizun. Shizun, did you fuck your wife? Just now, before sleeping, did you fuck her?”

“Well. Yes.”

“And yet, you won’t fuck me?”

Shen Qingqiu flushes uncomfortably warm. “Obviously I can't do that.”

Luo Binghe's patience seems utterly spent. He crawls atop of Shen Qingqiu and, with a flick of his fingers, undresses them both. His body is as breath-taking as ever, and between his legs is almost unbearably hot as he rubs down against Shen Qingqiu's cock. “Whatever for? This is your dream. You have taken my mouth, my thighs, every joint and seam possible, yet not my ass? Shizun, this disciple begs for clarity. What sort of logic is this?”

“It’s only that – well, you’re Luo Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu reasons weakly. “If Luo Binghe were to ever find out that I thought such things about him, he’d certainly kill me.” He scoffs, then rephrases it, “Not kill me. He’d actually do much worse first! Perhaps castrate me, skin me, then roll me in salt before frying me alive!”

Luo Binghe stares down at him. He breathes out a small sound, halfway caught between a laugh and something else. He looks at Shen Qingqiu with such derision it makes him blink, rather taken aback. His dream-Binghe was never so mean.

That abrupt burst of meanness dissipates as soon as it comes. Luo Binghe’s face grows soft again, simpering and loving. “I won’t tell, Shizun. No one will ever, ever know.”

Shen Qingqiu tries to shake his head again, tries to push Luo Binghe away, but when he tries to move his arms he finds them tied to the lattice at the top of the bed, soft red ropes tied and knotted around his wrists. He tugs his hands, but the ropes don’t move. “Binghe?”

“Don’t fret, Shizun,” Luo Binghe purrs. “I told you: no one will know. So lay back and enjoy.”

Luo Binghe gets up on his heels, crouching over him. He takes Shen Qingqiu’s cock in his hand, angling it upright between his thighs. The head rubs against something hot and dry there, the skin giving way ever so slightly, and Shen Qingqiu helplessly humps upwards against it. It feels good, but he slides against it, leaving a smear of pre-come as he tries and fails to shove himself in.

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe says, a rough note to his voice, almost a growl.

The fruit he’s been denying himself has been placed just before him, and his hands are tied. Shen Qingqiu roughly swallows a mouthful of saliva, unable to focus on anything but the sensation of heat pressing teasingly down on his cockhead.

Luo Binghe laughs lightly, rocking on his heels, rubbing on his cock. “Oh? Shizun, you didn’t want this, remember?”

Shen Qingqiu throws his head back against the pillow. He chews the inside of his cheek. Since when did his dream creation decide to tease him this way? Hasn’t it always been so submissive and pleasant? Hasn’t dream-Binghe always given way to whatever selfish want Shen Qingqiu expressed? Why is this slut trying to act hard to get now?

He humps upwards again, nudging just a bit into that dry heat. But it’s still not enough.

“Why are you – Binghe…!”

“Stay still, Shizun,” Luo Binghe says, circling his hips. He licks his lips. “Let this disciple pleasure you.”

Shen Qingqiu’s weeping cock head drips continuously, rubbing against Luo Binghe’s rim, slowly slicking it more and more. It’s unbearable. That little bit of friction makes Shen Qingqiu’s stomach twist, his thighs aching, his cock so hard it hurts. He wants inside, so badly he can almost forget the fear of Luo Binghe ever discovering this perversion of his.

He can almost imagine Luo Binghe’s furled flower between his legs. Tight. A dusky brown like his nipples. Virginal, untouched, and slicked wet with Shen Qingqiu’s pre-come.

Oh, how good would it be inside…? Shen Qingqiu can’t stop thinking about it. He weakly tugs at his restraints but the rest of his focus is aimed directly at their hips. His cock is throbbing anxiously in Luo Binghe’s soft hand, straining upright, its ceaseless dripping wiped off against Luo Binghe’s virginal cunt like it’s nothing more than a tissue to be used.

“Shizun, forgive me, but this disciple cannot restrain himself any longer,” Luo Binghe says, bearing down a bit harder. That tightly furled flower bends, giving way ever-so-slightly. The inside of him is infinitely hotter, rim fluttering tightly around the intrusion, almost suckling on him.

Even a saint wouldn’t be able to fight back when heaven itself is descending on him. Shen Qingqiu remains mute as Luo Binghe pushes himself further down, sliver by sliver, until the entire head of Shen Qingqiu’s cock is engulfed in that luxuriant dry heat.

And then, Luo Binghe stops.

He’s shivering, his expression almost euphoric, his abdomen clenching and unclenching spasmically, the motions reflected in his slutty hole – tight, grasping, and hungry around Shen Qingqiu. But Luo Binghe doesn’t drop any further. In fact, he pulls up, up until Shen Qingqiu’s cock pops out of him.

Shen Qingqiu bites off a pained shout, and fucks upwards, only to be met with empty air.

Above him, raised up on his heels far enough that Shen Qingqiu cannot reach when he arches his hips, Luo Binghe smiles down in a sweet manner. “Shizun, if one did not know better, one might suspect your desire to not defile my image is not as sincere as you pretend it to be.”

“It’s – ah – I’m –” Shen Qingqiu helplessly stammers, unable to form a proper sentence. He’s so hard it aches, the tension and pain radiating out from his groin to the entirety of his body. He wants to come. He wants to breed Binghe. He wants to fuck him –

“Shall I take pity on you?” Luo Binghe teases.

“Binghe…!”

“Hmm,” Luo Binghe pauses, pretending to think. “I might, if Shizun tells me I am his favourite disciple.”

“You are,” Shen Qingqiu agrees immediately. “Now, please!”

“I wonder if Shizun is being genuine,” Luo Binghe hums. “Won’t you say it with a bit more excitement?”

Shen Qingqiu grits his teeth. His cock is aching. Luo Binghe is only touching it, his index and middle fingers looped around it, pinching tightly and meeting his thumb. Not jerking or stroking, but still that touch is enough to keep the flames within him burning, the embers never having a chance to die.

Finally, Shen Qingqiu breaks. “You are my favourite. Luo Binghe has always been my favourite. Binghe is my best student, my brightest, my hardest working, and my favourite! Now, please…!”

Luo Binghe presses himself down once more with a smug smile. “Well done.” His hole gives way a bit easier this time. Then he lifts again before Shen Qingqiu can enjoy it. “Shizun, I was thinking, just this doesn’t count, surely. If it’s just that little, Luo Binghe won’t come after you. How could he hate you for just that tiny bit?”

‘Tiny’. ‘Little’.

Shen Qingqiu should feel some way about that, but he just feels hornier. Above him like this, Luo Binghe’s heavy cock lays over Shen Qingqiu’s stomach, long enough it reaches up to his navel, drooling steadily onto him. His cock is truly superior in every way. Compared to him, Shen Qingqiu’s is truly nothing but a tiny little thing, yet Luo Binghe is taking it in.

“What does Shizun think?” Luo Binghe wonders innocently. “If Shizun still says no, I will of course stop immediately. But if Shizun agrees, and just this little bit is acceptable, then…”

Shen Qingqiu whimpers wordlessly, uselessly rocking his hips. Luo Binghe firmly grips his cock around the base and doesn’t allow him to move an inch closer, squeezing tight enough his fingers are strangling tight. He nods rapidly. “Yes, yes, Binghe is right!”

Luo Binghe smiles at him as one might a child, then bounces in shallow, small motions, guiding Shen Qingqiu only just into his hole and back out.

Shen Qingqiu feels like he’s losing his mind. It’s so hot. Sweat drips down his forehead and chest, making him wet and sticky all over. His lungs are tight and unable to breathe in fully. His cockhead keeps popping in and out, in and out, over and over again, until Luo Binghe’s little hole slowly becomes kneaded loose and warm, welcoming Shen Qingqiu in like a well-fitted glove.

And always, just as Shen Qingqiu feels like he could come with that pitiful level of stimulation, Luo Binghe pulls off.

“Binghe…!” Shen Qingqiu groans.

He’s so aroused and has been for so long his stomach feels bruised. His heartbeat throbs in his dick. His skin feels like it’s too tight, itchy and hot and ready to split open at the seams. All of his common sense has evaporated under the sweltering heat of his arousal, all of his pesky, useless thoughts sizzling away until he can think of nothing but that sweet feeling around his cockhead.

“Yes, Shizun? Is something the matter?” Luo Binghe asks sweetly, cocking his head, playing at being innocent.

Shen Qingqiu tugs at his bindings again, twisting his wrists in them until the ropes bite into his skin. “Let me, let me, let me, please–”

When he tugs once again, his wrists pass through his bindings, the ropes vanishing into smoke.

Luo Binghe leans back and looks down at him, lids lowered and long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. His eyes are black embers glowing in those shadows, dark and hot. His pink tongue slips out of his mouth and traces a wet line on his lower lip.

Shen Qingqiu lunges up and grabs Luo Binghe around the waist, throwing him down and climbing between his legs.

“Shizun!” Luo Binghe laughs in delight. He allows himself to be manhandled and loops his arms around Shen Qingqiu’s neck. “That’s it, that’s alright. Take what you want. Take everything. It’s yours.”

Shen Qingqiu sloppily ruts forward. His cock skims past Luo Binghe’s entrance, rubbing against the smooth skin of his perineum and up, nudging into the sweaty hot space behind his balls. It feels good. He’s been teased for so long he nearly comes just from that. Perhaps that would be better. It would be wiser.

But he can’t stop himself. He slides a hand between them to steady himself and thrusts forwards again, pressing into Luo Binghe’s hole.

The first bit slides in smoothly. Luo Binghe moans, lashes fluttering. His body opens around Shen Qingqiu’s cock, defenseless and soft, sticky and hot. Of course, as befitting a dream, it’s already slick, lubrication easing the way in.

Luo Binghe whines, legs jerking and insides clamping down. “Good, Shizun, it’s so good… Don’t worry. It doesn’t count. I’m yours. I’m your plaything…!”

“It doesn’t count,” Shen Qingqiu groans. His head drops  “It’s not real. It doesn’t count.”

Luo Binghe’s nails dig into his back, scratching shallow lines down. “Shizun! Hurry! Shizun, deeper!”

The fleeting pain on his back turns him on more. He shoves his cock in deeper, into the parts that were still virginal, prying the tight passage open. He grinds in until their hips meet, his balls rubbing against Luo Binghe’s ass.

“Shi–izun– nn…!” Luo Binghe makes a pitiful, hurt sound, and comes. The ripples of his orgasm echo inside him, stroking and clenching down, so tight it nearly hurts.

Shen Qingqiu is a thin thread’s width away from coming himself. It’s so hot inside he feels like he’s melting. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t want to pull out. He moves in messy, shallow movements, keeping himself as deep inside as he can go, less thrusting and more akin to grinding. It’s artless. All he can feel is the need to embed himself as far into Luo Binghe as he can go.

“Of course it feels this good,” Shen Qingqiu mutters to himself. “It’s Binghe. Even if it’s only a dream… of course he’s perfect. Fuck. Could anyone else feel this good?”

“Not your wife?” Luo Binghe asks.

Their faces are close with Luo Binghe clawing at his back and tugging them together, their noses almost rubbing against one another. Those sizzling black pits of his eyes grow brighter, red leaching into them. He looks like he wants to open Shen Qingqiu up and lick his insides all over.

Shen Qingqiu can’t look away from him. He swallows roughly, his throat dry. “She…”

Luo Binghe’s face is flushed, his forehead and cheeks dusted red and peppered with shiny sweat. With his long lashes, dark whorls of hair caught on his cheeks, and peony-pink lips, he looks girlish. But then his legs hook behind Shen Qingqiu’s back, squeezing in little pulses, rocking their hips together, and Shen Qingqiu feels that starkly masculine cock pressed between their abdomens.

It’s unbearably hot. Just feeling it against his body makes Shen Qingqiu’s dick ache, so horny he can barely think.

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe murmurs sweetly, angling his head upwards, just enough their lips rub together. “Shizun, do you prefer fucking my pussy, or your wife’s?”

Shen Qingqiu’s visions blurs and darkens, bursting with stars. Unable to stop himself, he comes inside of Luo Binghe, helplessly humping in deeper, inseminating Binghe’s depths. His pussy. Fuck.

“It’s you – I prefer you,” Shen Qingqiu answers. He almost regrets opening his mouth the moment he says it, but when his dream creation flushes deeper red and moans, he can’t find it in himself to.

“Oh, Shizun,” Luo Binghe whines in pleasure, and shakes, spilling against their bellies once again.

Shen Qingqiu’s entire body feels slick with sweat. He tumbles to the side, breathing heavily.

In the afterglow, with the dream beginning to blur at the edges, Luo Binghe grabs Shen Qingqiu’s chin and jerks their faces towards one another. Luo Binghe’s eyes are ruby red, like swirling pools of blood that gleam in the low light of the night pearls.

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe growls, the sound grumbling deep in chest in an almost feral way. “Know this. Dreams are not enough for me. They never have. I can gorge myself on the facsimile of you day and night, but this false feast is not enough. I have allowed this to go on long enough.”

Shen Qingqiu feels a twinge of fear looking at this Luo Binghe. All the softness he fucked into Luo Binghe is gone, like curtains tugged away, revealing brittle and sharp edges beneath. “What does Binghe mean?”

Shen Qingqiu has become accustomed to his dream realm being strange. Odd thoughts, odd actions – he has overlooked them as proof of his inner guilt and longing for the past. But this is…

Luo Binghe leans in close enough that their noses rub together. “Shizun… It took so long. Too long. I searched unceasingly. But now–”

Tendrils of dream mist swirl around them, and as the bamboo house interior fades, the world takes on a familiar sight. It is the village closest to Bai Lian’s home. Shen Qingqiu’s face twitches in recognition, and Luo Binghe’s face splits into a vicious smile.

“I found you, Shizun,” Luo Binghe says lightly.

Shen Qingqiu barely has enough time to comprehend what’s happened when he’s forced out from his dream realm and wakes next to Bai Lian.

Shen Qingqiu lies awake in a cold sweat.

That dream…

He laughs uneasily to himself. The real Luo Binghe wouldn't have sex with him. Surely not. It had to have been fake. Just another strange, odd way of his mind reconciling his guilt.

But his heart remains tense.

When one day passes, Shen Qingqiu regains a bit of hope. He doesn't sleep.

Then a second day passes, and Shen Qingqiu begins to truly believe it was only a dream after all.

It is then, two months into his dreams and two days after the last where he'd finally inseminated the stallion lead within a dream, everything changes.

“Husband – ah, husband! Come quickly!”

From outside, Bai Lian’s voice is pitched and worried. Shen Qingqiu drops his brush, ink splattering across the talismans he’s been preparing for his next nighthunt. In two long bounds he rushes to their front gardens and is met with this sight:

His wife, normally as slender as a willow branch and as lovely as a pearl now has her dress stained red with blood and her hair falling from its typically groomed style, staggering down the pathway to their home. At her side, standing nearly a head and a half taller, is a gravely injured man. She's barely holding him up, his weight clearly sagging as her thin arms attempt to keep him standing.

His face is starkly pale from blood loss yet still strikingly handsome, his hair darker than ink and eyes shut with pinched pain, clothing elegant and intricately embroidered, each dragging step streaking blood across the ground.

With that handsome face, with his dignified and refined clothing, even dirtied and bloodied as he is, it can only be one man: Luo fucking Binghe. He's shockingly similar to the vision he'd seen in his dreams.

Shen Qingqiu’s scalp prickles in fright. He’d managed to convince himself the dream was just his guilty mind trying to scare him, but perhaps it was actually an ill omen. This is the last face he hoped to come across in this tiny corner of land. 

The only thing keeping him from fleeing is Bai Lian frightfully calling for him to help the man at her side. His kind and giving wife, who had taken him in such a similar way, is opening their home to his greatest enemy.

On cue, a familiar voice which has spent a very long time gathering dust speaks in Shen Qingqiu’s head. It bears the cold, mechanical sound of Google Translate, and dispassionately announces: 

[ Activating… Activating… Binding to soul… ]

[ Debugging… Contacting customer service… ]

Fuck! Because it’s bound to his soul, the System had reactivated upon encountering Luo Binghe? Even just from laying eyes on Luo Binghe, it’s once again come to darken his doorstep! Isn't this service too proactive?!

[ Contacting customer service… ]

Oh, but what's this? The System seems to spin idly as it attempts to boot up, repeating itself again and again. Since Shen Qingqiu switched bodies, the connection appears to have become poor.

Shen Qingqiu hesitates a moment longer at the doorway. His gaze is stuck on Luo Binghe's figure like a fish on a hook, unable to pull away.

“Husband! He's hurt!”

Hah. Indeed, ‘hurt’. Shen Qingqiu inwardly rolls his eyes.

This plotline had played out many, many times in ‘Proud Immortal Demon Way’, where Luo Binghe had gotten himself hurt in some kind of battle and then fallen into the arms of a buxom woman who soothed and pampered him during his recovery. Naturally, as Luo Binghe's healing factor is so immense that he can reconstitute entire limbs should he please it, this damaged appearance had always been just a ploy in order to get into that woman's home and bed.

Can this be considered just bad luck? Had Luo Binghe's carnal desires somehow managed to latch themselves on Bai Lian by pure chance?

Shen Qingqiu smiles a touch tiredly.

Indeed, he knew he had been taking chances when marrying an eligible woman who bore a sweet and fair countenance, yet in his folly he had assumed that a woman so far out of the way would have been at least a bit safe as a life companion. It seems that even marriage will be taken from him in the end.

Ah, such is the life of any man besides the protagonist. Shen Qingqiu cannot complain. As long as he can keep this small life of his, he can survive with a bit of loneliness. He likes Bai Lian, but not so much as to foolishly die to keep her. She'll be happier with Luo Binghe anyways; who wouldn't be?

This is still a manageable situation.

Luo Binghe surely cannot know he is Shen Qingqiu. Though he appears similar in some parts, perhaps two-fifths Shen Qingqiu and three-fifths his original face, one would not automatically assume him to be Shen Qingqiu. Even for the intelligent protagonist, it would be absolutely insensible!

Running away now would mark him as absolutely guilty, and certainly Luo Binghe would chase him then. All he can do is play along and hope that he can remain undetected.

He inhales deeply, and goes to meet his wife at the start of the pathway to their house. The bloody figure at the end of it looks to him as an executioner's axe.

“I'll take him,” Shen Qingqiu mutters, sliding an arm behind Luo Binghe's back.

Bai Lian looks up at him tearfully. “I-I’ll go and fetch some cloth and water to clean him! Please take him inside, set him by the hearth.”

As Shen Qingqiu takes Luo Binghe from her, that same chillingly cold automated voice that he’s blessedly not heard in three long years pipes up once again:

[ Touch verification successful! ]

[ Connected to central power source, storing power! ]

[ System self-evaluation: all operations normal. Thank you for your continued patronage! ]

Damnit all. Shen Qingqiu curses the heavens, curses the System, and curses himself most of all.

He watches Bai Lian run into the house and quietly mourns his shared companionship with her. Perhaps Luo Binghe might at least allow him to keep their modest marital house after he cucks him…

When Luo Binghe finally awakens from his obviously fake stupor, he weakly bows his head from his position on the day bed, peering up at Shen Qingqiu through long dark lashes, his eyes pristinely black like a moonless night. “Many thanks to xiansheng and his wife for rescuing this humble one…”

Humble? How can he call himself humble when his robes are made of such high quality material that Shen Qingqiu would have to farm monsters for a year straight to afford them? That's not even mentioning the red jewels embedded in his fine leather belt, and the shining pure white metal of his guan. His appearance is fully that of a lord. The word ‘humble’ should never be placed beside that of ‘Luo Binghe’.

Shen Qingqiu shakes his head. “It was my wife, A-Lian, who found you and dragged you here. All of your thanks should be given to her.”

Then he steps purposefully out of the way so Luo Binghe can get a proper look at her. She is, after all, the sole purpose of him coming here.

Luo Binghe's eyes flicker to her before returning solidly to Shen Qingqiu. He doesn’t even blink as he watches Shen Qingqiu's every little movement. It's an intense expression. It's the gaze of a predator sighting its prey.

But Luo Binghe doesn’t know it’s really him, Shen Qingqiu, does he? How could he? Shen Qingqiu is dead. Shen Qingqiu ensured that.

Then Luo Binghe smiles. It's small, unassuming, and warm.

Shen Qingqiu lurches with the urge to jump out of the window, only barely stopping himself with the stern reminder that Luo Binghe doesn't know who he truly is.

“Husband!” Bai Lian gasps, rushing to his side.

Luo Binghe looks at her properly for the first time then. His gaze is calculating and assessing. He sizes her up, taking in her face and overall appearance with a discerning eye. In the depths of those moonless night eyes, Shen Qingqiu sees a pinprick of red, cold and burning. Then he smiles. Something about it feels chilling.

“Then I owe you thanks, furen,” Luo Binghe says, utterly polite.

She returns his smile tentatively, arms bundled full with clean towels and some ointments that they’ve manufactured from the herbs in their garden. Bai Lian looks very obviously at Shen Qingqiu, expecting him to take the towels and healing tinctures. He, very conscientiously of the genre they’re in, doesn’t move.

“Go ahead,” Shen Qingqiu encourages after she spends another long moment glancing nervously between the two men.

What an impression she must make! A tender and shy beauty, cloistered away from the world, with only her husband to accompany her. A husband who can at most rate a 5/10 on the hot beefcake scale, at that! It’s easy pickings.

She takes one tiny step forward when Luo Binghe interrupts. “Ah, excuse me, xiansheng.” He smiles. It’s empty and unfeeling, as professional as a jaded customer service worker. “It wouldn’t do for me to be touched by a married woman. Rather, this humble one kindly requests xiansheng’s assistance.”

What the fuck? Since when did the stallion protagonist ever get shy about mounting a married woman?

Bai Lian doesn’t need any further urging than that. She quickly shoves the bundle of cloth and medicine into Shen Qingqiu’s arms then hides behind him. “Husband…”

Luo Binghe watches him expectantly. “Xiansheng.”

Shen Qingqiu has his back to a rickety bridge that will collapse with some pressure, and his front to a prowling tiger. With nowhere left to run, he has no choice but to face the tiger. This is how the brave Shen Qingqiu finds himself outside with a large bucket of water and a fainting protagonist.

Their bathing room is in a side alcove hidden with a curtain, not a proper door, and is furnished with a low-seated bench and a simple wooden tub.

Shen Qingqiu awkwardly holds Luo Binghe loosely around the shoulders, taking care to not touch him inappropriately. Just a few months back, helping out a fellow man while changing or washing up wouldn’t have been a big issue, but now… The things he’s seen and done in his dreams make everything feel very improper.

When Luo Binghe leans into him with a pathetic, pained whimper, very OOC for a powerful demon lord but all too familiar from his dreams, Shen Qingqiu’s blood drains from skull down into his groin.

Calm down! he thinks at his irresponsible dick. Perhaps he’s read ‘Resentment of Chunshan’ a few too many times.

To regain control, he sternly reminds himself that if he makes a mistake now, he could really end up castrated later.

Settling Luo Binghe onto the bench, Shen Qingqiu clears his throat. “Is, ah, the noble cultivator able to undress himself?”

Luo Binghe gives him an almost shy look, glancing up through thick lashes, one of his hands toying with his belt. On anyone else, it could be called flirtatious, but Luo Binghe would certainly never demean himself like that. Only in Shen Qingqiu’s dreams! Haha…

“Please, xiansheng, don't be so formal. Won't you call me ‘Binghe’?”

All of the fine hairs on Shen Qingqiu’s body stand straight on end. Fuck, what is with this helpless maiden act?!

“Binghe, then,” he mutters.

When Luo Binghe smiles, pleased, and makes no further move to undress himself, Shen Qingqiu is forced to do it for him. Layer by layer of blood soaked clothing undone and put aside, until the claw marks are revealed. They are red and raw, disrupting the white sculpted marble of Luo Binghe’s chest.

The edges of the slices are clean, almost as if done with a blade. Perhaps done by a Blade Feathered Peacock? Or…

Shen Qingqiu stares fixedly, eyes sliding away from the cuts and instead to the curves of his body. The way his brown nipples are pebbled and stark on his white skin, his pecs round and full, leading down to rippling muscles. So similar to the body in his dreams. Would his tits taste as sweet as they did in those dreams? Would it feel as good to rub his cock all over them and paint them even whiter with his semen?

“Ah, xiansheng, you’re staring.”

Shen Qingqiu startles. He rips his eyes away from Luo Binghe’s pecs. Luo Binghe’s mouth is curled into a shy little smile. The implication in those words – no, he must have imagined it. He valiantly fights back the red flush from his face and clears his throat. “It’s, ahem, quite a serious injury.”

Luo Binghe’s face becomes troubled. “Xiansheng is quite right. I fear it might take some time for me to recover.” He looks up at Shen Qingqiu through his lashes. “Perhaps I could stay here while I do? I swear, I’ll make it up to you, somehow.”

Fuck. Shen Qingqiu knows it’s all a ploy to get his wife, but his dick is stupidly hard.

Maybe… it wouldn’t be so bad… if Shen Qingqiu could at least watch–

He mentally slaps himself. Cucking play isn’t his vibe, alright?! Calm down, idiot dick!

Unaware of Shen Qingqiu’s filthy thoughts, Luo Binghe weakly leans on Shen Qingqiu half-naked. He feebly attempts to wash himself, acting as if his legs are weak and his injuries are so severe he may simply pass right then and there. “My apologies for being so useless, xiansheng…”

Incredible. Luo Binghe certainly is a model guest, perfectly polite. Though, Shen Qingqiu thinks a bit helplessly, he plays up the injured act a bit too much.

Shen Qingqiu sighs. The slices all over Luo Binghe's chest and abdomen are quite deep, certainly, but he can detect no spell or poison which would prevent him from healing from it. Something like this in the novel would simply be an irritation rather than anything serious! Had he raised such a soft child?

“If xiansheng would assist this humble one in washing, it would be much appreciated,” Luo Binghe murmurs shyly, clutching Shen Qingqiu's arm to his chest.

A chill shoots up Shen Qingqiu's spine.

If anyone should be giving the injured protagonist a tender sponge bath, it certainly is not Shen Qingqiu! That's what his wife is for, please give the genre some face! But what other option does he have? His poor, shy wife could hardly stand to look at Luo Binghe.

Not that he can blame her; the protagonist’s beauty is so stark and refined it’s almost intimidating. Any man, woman, or child would have their breath taken away just from looking at him. As for Shen Qingqiu…

He’s having a slightly different problem. Having Luo Binghe’s warm and pliant body in his hands has readily become something he associates with getting off. An uncomfortable, itchy heat has grown in the depths of his stomach, tangling with his guts and making his thighs tense. That heat prickles like little needles, not quite painful, but distinct and unignorable.

All he can do is pray that Luo Binghe doesn’t notice.

Maintaining as stoic a face as possible and ensuring to not let his pants stretch too tightly against his groin, Shen Qingqiu gives Luo Binghe a washing down, mindful of his injuries.

Once fully cleaned, Shen Qingqiu is able to take a proper look at him.

He examines Luo Binghe’s face. It’s exactly as handsome as the face he’d envisioned inside the dream, only somehow more enrapturing, if only for the fact that it’s real.

Shen Qingqiu abruptly feels angry at Airplane Shooting Toward the Sky. What a fucking hack author! He may have described Luo Binghe as a peerless beauty and handsome beyond compare, but couldn’t he have spared a few more words to properly describe him?! Couldn’t he have dusted off his thesaurus?!

He isn’t simply ‘beautiful’ – he is as beautiful as a thousand sunsets, wondrous and awe-inspiring just at the sight of him. His eyes are dewy pools on a moonless night, and three-times as refreshing. His skin isn’t just ‘jade-like’, it’s as pristine and immaculate as the marble statues carved by the great masters of old.

Luo Binghe is a work of art in motion.

He can only mourn his marriage. Poor Bai Lian, she doesn’t stand a chance.

Luo Binghe takes ages to heal. To the point where Shen Qingqiu doesn’t understand why he hasn’t either railed Bai Lian behind his back or simply cut to the chase and kicked Shen Qingqiu out to have Bai Lian on her marital bed. Isn’t all this just for play anyways?

Shen Qingqiu almost feels bad for Bai Lian… Her duty of becoming the protagonist’s bedmate is going unfulfilled. Surely she must be craving him, as she propositioned Shen Qingqiu for sex every single night without fail. Naturally he keeps denying her – having sex with Luo Binghe under the same roof is the same as asking for death.

That said, Luo Binghe’s company isn't unwelcome.

Over the years of reading the novel and living with the child protagonist, Shen Qingqiu has always liked Luo Binghe’s character for his intelligence and wit. He is capable of keeping up a high level of conversation without being dry. Shen Qingqiu can sit with him to talk over tea and be so engrossed that his tea has gone cold and the moon has reached its zenith before he realizes it.

In fact, he spends most of his time in Shen Qingqiu's study with him. He’s an extremely intelligent and naturally curious man. When he cottons onto Shen Qingqiu’s deep knowledge on the supernatural elements of the world, he instantly latches on, hungry for instruction. His own education was cut short, he explains – well, of course Shen Qingqiu already knew that. His guilt softens him, and he finds himself explaining anything and everything that Luo Binghe asks about.

Though, the first time Luo Binghe stepped inside he wasn’t very obedient. His eyes tracked immediately to the yellow books piled up on one side, amusement obvious in his expression.

“Oh my,” Luo Binghe remarked idly, his eyes sparkling as he takes in the title ‘Resentment of Chunshan’. “So Shen-xiansheng has read that book…?”

Shen Qingqiu summarily covered up the whole pile with a blanket and sternly scolded Luo Binghe for snooping through another man’s business.

Luo Binghe had laughed. It was so handsome, Shen Qingqiu couldn’t even stay mad (though he had needed to adjust himself somewhat discreetly, having gotten a bit hard at seeing Luo Binghe’s pleasant and joyful face).

Bai Lian, for all her efforts, is unable to understand cultivation even to the most basic of principles. To have company that is not only on Shen Qingqiu’s level, but almost exceeding it in some areas, is like having an itch that he hasn’t been able to reach for years finally scratched.

Luo Binghe was in fact so pleased to learn from Shen Qingqiu that he began calling him ‘laoshi’! How cute.

If that weren’t enough, the cooking is an added bonus. Bai Lian’s meals go from appetizing but ultimately mediocre, to bombshells of delightful cuisine that Shen Qingqiu inhales nightly.

He’s missed the protagonist’s cooking…!

Ah, what a sad life, knowing it will one day be taken away again, but at least he got to try it again one last time.

That said, Shen Qingqiu knows when he’s getting in between a man and a woman. He’s been in this position a fair few times during his university days, acting as a wingman. He knows when he needs to bow out and let the two lovebirds finally nest up together.

So, he decides to head out two weeks later.

“Where is laoshi going?”

Shen Qingqiu stops at the threshold, clothed and prepared for his nighthunt. Behind him is Luo Binghe, confused, face pinched in an utterly adorable way. He’d informed Bai Lian, but not Luo Binghe of his plans.

“Ah, this one makes his income by hunting small demons. A nearby town has sent a letter indicating a wayward monster has made a home in the nearby lake, and will pay for its expeditious removal. Apologies, but A-Lian is more than happy to stay with you for a day or two.”

Luo Binghe stares at him. He stumbles over his words next, “Alone? You – alone?”

Hah. Seems Luo Binghe likes his bride more than he wants to let on, so enticed by the idea of Shen Qingqiu finally getting lost so he can make his move that his usual smooth talk has run dry.

He barely stops himself from rolling his eyes. Yes, yes, Shen Qingqiu already knows what his role is: the cuck shut out in the cold.

“She is very capable, and very caring,” Shen Qingqiu says, nodding his head. There’s the barest hint of suggestion in his voice. After all, he bears no ill will! His wife is a very pleasant and kind woman; the least he can do is talk up her attributes in repayment for the loving months they've shared together. “She will take very good care of you.”

Luo Binghe frowns, nose wrinkling in distaste. “No, this d… This one means to ask, Shen-laoshi is going on this hunt alone?”

… Shen Qingqiu almost feels a bit insulted. Does he look so meagre in talent that Luo Binghe can actually pull a face at the idea of him doing nighthunts solo? If that hothead Liu Qingge can go off by himself, Shen Qingqiu certainly can as well!

“I'll be just fine,” Shen Qingqiu replies with a snappish bite.

After a beat, Luo Binghe smiles in a way that doesn't reach his eyes. “I suppose so. I haven't heard of there being any Frenzied Three-Eyed Kingfishers around.”

Shen Qingqiu, seeing the flashing red hazard light blinking in those words, carefully keeps his face straight. Luo Binghe certainly suspects him of being Shen Qingqiu, that much is obvious.

Hopefully getting with Bai Lian behind Shen Qingqiu's back will keep him distracted…

When Shen Qingqiu arrives back after three days, he expects one of two things:

Option 1) an empty home, his wife having already been spirited away back to one of Luo Binghe’s various palaces being prepared for a quick marriage. This is what he’d prefer!

Option 2) Luo Binghe and Bai Lian in the middle of fucking on every available flat surface. Not the ideal outcome. He is still a red-blooded male, after all, and it might hurt his masculine pride a little bit.

Suffice to say he is astonished to come home to an extremely frigid atmosphere. His wife and Luo Binghe are seated at the low dining table with a spread of snacks laid out before them. The snacks are all Shen Qingqiu’s favourites, and there are duplicate plates of each type, clearly made by two different hands. One set, Luo Binghe’s. The other, Bai Lian’s.

As he watches, they exchange unfeeling smiles and clipped words of half-hearted praise as they nibble at each other’s cakes.

He closes the door behind him and two faces swivel towards him.

“Husband,” Bai Lian calls.

“Shen-laoshi,” Luo Binghe says at the same time.

They glance at one another with frigid smiles.

“Husband,” Bai Lian says first, “would you come and try some dishes? Our dear guest has given me plenty of tips during his stay, and we thought a little competition might be… fun.”

Shen Qingqiu looks at her, then at Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe gives him a little smile. Through his stay, Luo Binghe has given him plenty of smiles – shy, mild, playful, and friendly – and never have they inspired this reaction in Shen Qingqiu: fear. Like a weak rabbit in the jaws of a hungry predator. Cold sweat breaks out on his back.

“Yes, laoshi,” Luo Binghe agrees. “Won’t you come and try some? Miss Bai’s cooking has come a long way.”

The way he says it is backhanded, saying without saying that where her skills were before was so trash it wasn’t worth even mentioning.

Shen Qingqiu stares at the situation.

Doesn’t Luo Binghe seem to have taken on the role of a mean girl in a high school play, rather than that of a suave, wounded hero, waiting to prey on the hot busty wife? Shen Qingqiu almost feels insulted on his wife’s behalf. She might not be a crown jewel or anything, but she’s nothing to sneeze at!

He slowly approaches the table and takes a seat between the two of them.

Luo Binghe offers him a lotus seed bun. Shen Qingqiu has always had a bit of a sweet tooth and an overly picky nature. While living with him Luo Binghe’s skill at making desserts that struck the perfect balance between not-too-sweet and yet still pleasant on the tongue skyrocketed.

It’s too bad. All of those sweets always paired perfectly with –

“And some oolong tea, laoshi,” Luo Binghe says, answering Shen Qingqiu’s unspoken wish with a delicate pour of steaming tea into a cup.

“Good boy,” Shen Qingqiu praises warmly. He takes the bun and eats it alongside sips of perfectly steeped tea.

Crispy dough that melts like sugar on the tongue, sticky filling that is perfectly sweet without being cloying, and the tea to soften the sugar even more…! Ah, Shen Qingqiu could cry!

Shen Qingqiu clears his throat after being unable to stop himself from eating the whole thing. “Not bad.”

Luo Binghe smiles so brightly it’s as if Shen Qingqiu hung the sun in the sky just for him.

Bai Lian interrupts, sliding a plate over. “Here, husband. Please try mine.”

Shen Qingqiu looks at her lotus seed bun. It’s clearly a bit burnt in some spots, and in a few others the dough is still undercooked. He picks it up and takes a bite anyway, chewing the tasteless mush in the middle. He swallows the lump and then quickly drinks the remaining oolong tea to wash it down. He gives Bai Lian a wan smile.

“Not bad,” he says again, giving her a half-hearted shrug. He puts the rest of it down on the plate and looks away at the rest of the dishes.

Luo Binghe preens, one hand tossing his hair back over his shoulder. Never has the male stallion protagonist ever embodied a mean teenage girl more perfectly. It’s adorable. He grabs the next plate, full of youtiao. He passes it to Shen Qingqiu with a pleasant smile. “Here, laoshi! Try this next!”

Shen Qingqiu eagerly takes it. He winds up inhaling half the plate before physically stopping himself. Later, he thinks to himself. He can always come back and eat more. Luo Binghe seems so pleased watching him eat that he’d likely even agree to make fresh food later if Shen Qingqiu asks.

“Ahem. Not too sweet. Well done.”

Bai Lian’s nose is red. She inhales shakily. She hands her youtiao over without a word.

Shen Qingqiu takes one bite and puts the rest down. He gives her a supportive smile and rubs her shoulder. “It’s much better than last time,” he praises.

The rest of the tasting goes by in the same way.

In the end, Bai Lian is in tears, and Shen Qingqiu is forced to spend an hour with her in their bedroom, calming her down and logically explaining to her that a few weeks learning from Luo Binghe obviously wouldn’t be enough to catch up to Luo Binghe’s many years of experience.

That night, Bai Lian is restless.

She continually glances at Shen Qingqiu as they prepare for bed. Her lower lip is bitten raw and red, worried away between her teeth. She hasn’t relaxed since the snack tasting, her breathing rapid and lower lashes still clumped with wetness.

Soothing her with the knowledge that she would have obviously never beaten Luo Binghe seems to have not worked.

When he lays down in bed, she immediately crawls atop him, kissing him and spreading her legs over his groin. She’s naked beneath her thin robe, her bare pussy warm as she rubs it against him. It’s extremely rare for her to be so forward, though perhaps this is the end result of him denying her advances so many times.

“A-Lian, what is this?” Shen Qingqiu hisses quietly. “Get off. We have a guest!”

While typically obedient, Bai Lian stares at him mulishly. She shakes her head. “Husband, I – tonight, I need to serve you as your wife. If I lack in other aspects, then so be it, but at least in this, let me fulfill my marital duties!”

Shen Qingqiu blinks. “What? Are you still upset about your cooking? I told you so many times, it’s not your fault. It’s only that Binghe is–”

“Husband!” she cries. Her eyes are liquidy with unshed tears, the tip of her nose and the apples of her cheeks growing red. She sounds truly distraught and it weakens Shen Qingqiu’s resolve. “Don’t turn me away! Not this time. I need to prove myself somehow.”

Shen Qingqiu’s scalp prickles in fright. “Alright, alright! Just be quiet!”

If Luo Binghe hears, Shen Qingqiu might die of embarrassment. It feels like trying to roll around in the sheets when your family is home. This is private, okay?!

She takes her robe off, flinging it to the side. Her body is as lovely as always, her bosom heavy and her waist thin. Having your wife begging to have sex is any straight man’s dream, right? So why is Shen Qingqiu feeling so… disinterested?

But he can’t say no. Not after she begged him. It would just be too cruel.

So he obligingly undresses and gets between her legs. He fucks her all while being unable to stop thinking about when he fucked the dream-Binghe, can’t unhear the way dream-Binghe asked if his pussy or hers was better. He treats her more tenderly than he did his dream creation. Eventually, he comes inside her, and still, all Shen Qingqiu can think is:

Luo Binghe felt better.

Bai Lian seems content with it. She squeezes her thighs together, rubbing the spot where her womb lies beneath. She murmurs quietly, “At least in this I perform well.”

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t know what to say. He brushes his fingers through her hair, feeling a bit fond.

Then, just outside of their door, Shen Qingqiu hears a faint sound. The creaking of wood and a whisper of cloth dragging, as if someone had been standing just before the door then turned and walked away.

A frightened chill shoots down his back.

Luo Binghe had been outside, listening.

Forgive me, Bing-ge, Shen Qingqiu weeps in his heart. She’s still available for some protagonist loving!

Unable to stop wondering if Luo Binghe will just decide to kill him in his sleep, Shen Qingqiu uneasily settles down for bed.

That same night, Shen Qingqiu rises from sleep in a slow drag. His dreams of pale bamboo and gentle winds vanish into mist, his eyes fluttering open in the dark.

A censer burns low in the corner of the room, smoky haze blurring the air as it fills the room with the scent of incense. The sole source of light is the moon hanging high outside, filtering in through the gauzy curtains at the windows. The room is awash in a silvery glow.

Beside him in bed is his wife, gentle face in a relaxed expression. Her long lashes sweep over the curves of her cheeks, eyes moving under their lids as she dreams. Not yet seduced away from him in the past two weeks Luo Binghe has been sharing their home, her body is turned towards Shen Qingqiu, her hand stretched into the space between their bodies.

He doesn't have more than that moment to admire her. Between his legs, he feels a blisteringly hot wet. He inhales sharply through his teeth, eyes wide as he turns to look down the bed at the obvious shape that hovers over his waist under the thin blanket he and his wife share.

His stomach coils tight with arousal. He's achingly hard, already teetering at the tipping point of an orgasm. The shape under his blanket sucks, and Shen Qingqiu barely manages to clasp a hand over his mouth to stifle his moaning.

There's only one other person in this house.

Shen Qingqiu’s mind spins dizzily as the situation gradually becomes clear, a mess of confusion and fear both mixing together in his skull. A frisson of energy shoots down his spine and he feels himself jerk inside of that warm mouth, cockhead pressing against the soft palate. When he drips, a clever tongue is already licking it up and swallowing it down.

Can he pretend to still be asleep? Is it better that way?

Almost petulantly, the mouth around him sucks hard again, noisily and wetly, the lurid sound of it echoing in the dark of his room. It's paired with the soft and gentle breathing of his sleeping wife. Guilt sinks into him, and he can feel the dripping heat from his slit increase as the mouth drinks it down.

His other hand not occupied with muffling his moans lifts the edge of the blanket, almost afraid to have it confirmed.

Please let it be a dream, please let it be a dream, please let it–

His mantra dies as the blanket lifts and beneath it is indeed Luo Binghe, nose buried in the pubic hair at the base of his cock and his lips pressed to Shen Qingqiu's groin. The light of his red zuiyin dully illuminates his face, eyes glowing and red, staring up at Shen Qingqiu unflinchingly.

Luo Binghe slowly lifts his head, maintaining eye contact the entire way, lips tightly clasped to Shen Qingqiu's cock and tongue dragging up the swollen vein along the bottom of it. At the tip, he suckles a few times more, drinking up the pre-come with a dark expression, before finally pulling back enough to pop his mouth off with a loud wet sound.

It's filthy. Shen Qingqiu's legs twitch and his stomach tightens, so close to the edge that his vision blurs. He rocks his hips up without thinking, cockhead nudging across Luo Binghe's lips and cheek, a streak of wet glittering across his skin, before his mind comes back to him and he settles down with a growing sense of terror.

“Luo Binghe, wh-what are you doing?” Shen Qingqiu hisses, frightened gaze flickering to Bai Lian’s face.

Luo Binghe slowly licks his lips. It sweeps over the swell of his lower lip to the corner where Shen Qingqiu had smeared pre-come. He hums, pleased at the taste, and smiles. His eyes are red and searing hot, his human disguise fully discarded. “You should take care to keep your voice down, else you might wake………” Luo Binghe's smile takes a sharp edge, and his voice sounds anything but sincere as he finishes, “‘Shiniang’.”

Shiniang.

A chill runs over his body.

“So, be quiet, won't you, Shizun?”

Shen Qingqiu shivers. He glances uneasily at Bai Lian once more. She is still sound asleep, utterly innocent to her husband’s dalliances. He swallows, his throat clicking.

In another story, the caught-out character might try to put up a weak defense of feigning ignorance. “Who is your Shizun? I don’t know what you’re talking about!” they might say. Well, Shen Qingqiu finds those types of characters incredibly stupid and infuriating. If the peerlessly intelligent protagonist has caught him and accused him, there’s nothing left to do than admit it.

“Luo Binghe is correct. I was Shen Qingqiu, your Shizun,” Shen Qingqiu says, forcing his tone to be calm. But how can he be calm with Luo Binghe between his legs like this?!

“Shizun did not invite me to the wedding,” Luo Binghe lightly says, idly plucking at the edges of Shen Qingqiu's shirt. “This disciple is hurt.”

You were in the Endless Abyss after I kicked you down there, Shen Qingqiu thinks hysterically. Outwardly he mechanically says, “Apologies, this master meant no offense. Now explain yourself.”

Luo Binghe presses his cheek to the side of Shen Qingqiu’s cock, rubbing his soft skin against it. “Whatever does Shizun mean?”

Shouldn’t it be self-explanatory?! There’s only one thing out of the ordinary here.

“Hmm… Could Shizun possibly mean this?” Luo Binghe asks, feigning innocence as he rubs like a kitten along Shen Qingqiu’s cock. He gives Shen Qingqiu’s cock a little kiss, flashing a warning bit of sharp tooth from behind his pink lips. “Or is it only acceptable when you’re asleep?”

Shen Qingqiu slowly digests those words with a growing sense of horror.

“This disciple is so relieved that Shizun was never troubled by my searching,” Luo Binghe teases. “If Shizun had noticed that it was truly me inside of those dreams, perhaps he could have run away again.”

Shen Qingqiu suddenly thinks about one of his dreams, where ‘Dream’ Binghe whined about him running off to marry a girl from the Jiangsu province.

At the time, he’d thought nothing of it. After all, it was his own mind he believed he was talking to and he had never mentioned Jiangsu aloud. Now, he realizes with a chill, that had been an omen. Luo Binghe had known. He’d been slowly narrowing down on Shen Qingqiu’s location all the while.

Which means that, actually, the entire time when he’d dreamed of Luo Binghe and the bamboo house, it was the real Luo Binghe. Which means that he’d done all of those things to the real Luo Binghe as well. He’d demeaned him, forced him to pleasure Shen Qingqiu in a multitude of dirty ways, and finally fucked him like a woman.

Fuck.

Shen Qingqiu is definitely dead.

“I heard her.” Luo Binghe stares up at him, then begins to slowly crawl up his body. Shen Qingqiu cannot move, pinned in place by that vicious, burning stare, like two hot red pokers stabbed through him. “I heard Shiniang earlier. That she can pleasure you better than I do. Is that true?”

“You should mind your manners and stop eavesdropping on matters that do not concern you,” Shen Qingqiu bites out. If he is still called ‘Shizun’, then this disciple of his should be obedient.

“Don’t be angry, Shizun,” Luo Binghe soothes, emerging from under the sheet.

He moves up until their bodies are aligned and their faces are only a few inches apart. Luo Binghe smoothly straddles Shen Qingqiu’s hips, and there is a distinct lack of barrier between their skin. When Shen Qingqiu looks between them, he sees Luo Binghe’s lower half is bare, his dick already leaking and red.

It is just as masculine and thick as it was in his dreams. Shen Qingqiu’s mouth waters looking at it. He can just imagine the taste of it, the smell of it.

“Shizun, your matters do concern me. Everything that Shizun does concerns me,” Luo Binghe says, curling himself over Shen Qingqiu. His dark hair spills down in silken curtains around Shen Qingqiu’s head, sweet scented and warm, cutting off his sight of the rest of the room. “Shizun, do you know why I’ve sought you out? In all of your wisdom, do you have any idea?”

It’s hard to think about anything with Luo Binghe half-naked on his lap, his by-now familiar weight bearing down on Shen Qingqiu’s erection.

“To – to do what you must,” Shen Qingqiu replies. His lips feel numb. Of course it was only a matter of time until Luo Binghe’s revenge finally arrived, but he is still a man and a husband at that. “I’ll submit. Just don’t hurt her. She is innocent in this.”

Luo Binghe’s lip curls. He grabs Shen Qingqiu’s face and presses his fingers into the hinge of his jaw until Shen Qingqiu is forced to open his mouth. Then, Luo Binghe spits inside, onto his tongue. It’s an unexpectedly filthy action. Then Shen Qingqiu’s jaw is pressed shut again, and Luo Binghe says in a low, tight voice, “Swallow.”

Shen Qingqiu does before thinking. He feels dizzy. Faintly, he can feel his dick twitching and drooling against Luo Binghe’s backside.

“So you can listen. Well done, Shizun,” Luo Binghe praises, lips curled into a somewhat cruel looking smile. “You will indeed submit. It’s best if you don’t fight.”

That is his only warning. Luo Binghe raises his hips up and fluidly impales himself onto Shen Qingqiu’s cock. It isn’t like in the dream, where it was already wet inside. It’s a dry, clinging press, sliding bit by bit inside, urged along with Luo Binghe’s weight bearing down. It’s a touch painful, but everything else – the heat, the way Luo Binghe’s folds and ridges inside clamp onto him, the way Luo Binghe’s massive cock spurts excitedly across Shen Qingqiu’s belly from the sensation –

“Nngh!” Shen Qingqiu jolts, arching his back and driving himself deeper. The inside of his skull feels electric and crackling. His brain is boiling.

This is wrong. This is –

It should be painful taking something in dry, but Luo Binghe instead seems delirious with pleasure. Luo Binghe whimpers happily and circles his hips, forcing himself down. That sound makes the heat in Shen Qingqiu’s skull explode. He’s more turned on than he has been in… ever. But this is wrong. 

Fuck – he peaks at Bai Lian out of the corner of his eyes. Somehow, she’s still asleep, with only a slight pinch to her brow.

At his distraction, Luo Binghe leans down further, his thumb stroking Shen Qingqiu’s jaw. He presses a chaste kiss to Shen Qingqiu’s mouth, then licks filthily over it. Not once do his eyes close, remaining ever open and burning all the while, piercing into Shen Qingqiu.

When he speaks next it is so close that their mouths touch with every word. “Now listen to this, closely: Shizun is mine. Mine, forever, mine. His love, mine. His body, mine.” Tone sweet as honey, he whispers, “For giving them to her, I won’t forgive you.”

A freezing chill rolls down Shen Qingqiu’s body. He licks his lips and shivers anew when his tongue brushes against Luo Binghe’s mouth. “Then… what torture shall you commit onto me?”

Luo Binghe grinds his hips down vindictively, bearing down on Shen Qingqiu’s cock, making Shen Qingqiu inhale sharply, biting back a desperate noise. The ridges inside cling tightly to him, squeezing out a hot spurt of precome.

“You still aren’t listening. I waited for you. I searched for you. When I heard you were dead, what should I have done? Shizun shouldn’t have married someone else, when this disciple was always willing and ready to be made your bride,” Luo Binghe scolds, reaching down between their bodies and slowly masturbating himself for Shen Qingqiu to watch.

Shen Qingqiu subtly pinches his thigh. He must still be dreaming. There can be no other rational explanation.

“My bride,” he echoes. His head feels floaty. “Binghe wants to be my bride?”

Luo Binghe smiles widely. “There,” he coos, petting Shen Qingqiu’s cheek. “Now Shizun finally understands. I was yours, and you cheated on me with her. I won't forgive you. I won't.”

Multiple things gain clarity at once.

Rather than wanting to torture him, Luo Binghe has made his desires clear since the start: being with Shen Qingqiu. After Shen Qingqiu admitted blatantly within the dream that he regretted what he’d done, Luo Binghe’s grudge was erased. How he’d bent the protagonist gay, Shen Qingqiu isn’t sure, but clearly he had indeed done so. And Shen Qingqiu himself isn’t so different; the feeling of being with Luo Binghe is almost impossible to refuse, when bedding his wife is more often a chore than not.

He looks to his side at Bai Lian once more. Her face relaxed in peaceful slumber, her hair spilling across the bed, one of her hands reaching out halfway towards him as if seeking him in her sleep. She’s a truly patient and gentle soul.

… and beside her, her husband is –

“Don’t look at her, Shizun!” Luo Binghe grabs his chin again, yanking his face straight. His expression is tumultuous, like an angry, bullied child. “Shizun, you should look only at me!”

Inside, Binghe tightens on him, sliding upwards as he does. A shiver shoots up from Shen Qingqiu’s waist. He’s been leaking pre-come inside, and it makes Luo Binghe’s hole feel sticky and wet, clinging to him as he pulls upwards.

Shen Qingqiu plants his feet on the bed and drives his hips upwards, fucking himself back down to the root. It feels good so he does it again, and Luo Binghe’s mouth drops open around a whoreish moan.

“Hush,” Shen Qingqiu scolds, but he doesn’t stop fucking up into Luo Binghe’s slutty hole. With every plunge kneading his insides warm, wet, and loose. The lurid sounds of every thrust and the slap of skin on skin are loud, echoing in the room, but he can’t bear to stop. He wants to fuck even deeper in.

Luo Binghe lunges down, biting Shen Qingqiu’s lips, his cheeks, down his throat. Biting with every thrust in, leaving stinging wet marks as he goes. Against Shen Qingqiu’s ear, voice low and hungry, Luo Binghe asks, “Shizun, don’t you like me better?”

Shen Qingqiu answers by grabbing Luo Binghe around his girlish thin waist and slamming him down, grinding his hips upwards at the same time. Slap, slap, slap– skin against skin. Inside, Shen Qingqiu feels his cockhead rub against something hard.

A pained, pleasured sound is whined out directly into Shen Qingqiu’s ear, and Luo Binghe’s orgasms. Long stripes of hot semen shoot over Shen Qingqiu’s belly and chest, pearls pooling in the divots of his collar bone and muscles. The smell of it is strong and husky, and the amount of it makes his head rush and mouth flood with drool.

“I always pictured you lasting hours in bed, but you come like a girl,” Shen Qingqiu marvels, listening to Luo Binghe’s breathy whimpers as he keeps fucking into him. Every thrust in pushes more come out, until there’s a mess of it everywhere, leaking down his sides into the sheets.

“Shizun–n,” Luo Binghe cries. Truly cries. He pulls his face back enough for Shen Qingqiu to see the way his eyes shine, and his lashes clump together, his nose red and lips trembling. “Shizun, won’t you answer me? Don’t you like me more, more than her?”

He looks so pitiful. Shen Qingqiu can’t help it. He gives Luo Binghe a kiss to his temple. “I seem to like you quite a lot.”

Luo Binghe nuzzles against him, rocking his hips, tiny little pumps. “... Do you prefer her cooking or mine?”

Without a doubt – “Yours.”

Luo Binghe increases his movements, a bit deeper, quicker. “Do you prefer her company or mine?”

“Yours.”

“Then Shizun,” Luo Binghe murmurs, sweet, cloying, “whose pussy do you prefer fucking in your marital bed? Hers or mine?”

Arousal flares in him with such a powerful electric shock that Shen Qingqiu’s scalp prickles, his hair standing on end, his guts twisting and coiling so forcefully and suddenly it's as if a hand reached inside and grabbed. Sweat slicks his back. He grabs at Luo Binghe’s hips, drawing him closer. He’s not deep enough. He can’t get deep enough.

“Say it, Shizun,” Luo Binghe urges. He takes Shen Qingqiu’s face in both hands, warm fingers curling around the base of his skull, thumbs stroking his cheeks. “Say it.”

Shen Qingqiu is so close. “Yours,” he admits. “Yours.”

He’s so close, so close–

Luo Binghe smiles soft as silk. Then he turns Shen Qingqiu’s face to the side. “Now say it again, to her.”

Bai Lian is awake and looking at them. Her hands are plastered over her mouth and her eyes are wide in horror. Tears streak down her face, visible and shining in the moonlight. When had she woken up? How much had she seen?

Shen Qingqiu’s heart seizes. “A-Lian…!”

Before Shen Qingqiu can stop himself, he tips over the edge and comes inside of Luo Binghe. His hips don’t stop working in and out, fucking it as deep in as he can. Luo Binghe makes a sound of delight and rears back, hands splayed on Shen Qingqiu’s chest, riding him through it, staring down at Bai Lian with a wicked smile.

Bai Lian recoils further, falling out of bed with a sob.

“Apologies for the intrusion, Miss Bai,” Luo Binghe laughs, smug and self-satisfied. “It seems Shizun has made his choice. I’ll prepare a settlement for you, Miss Bai. Consider it a bride price for taking Shizun with me. Am I not kind?”

It's so unreasonably bratty and childish, like a spoiled child staking his claim on something he stole from someone on the playground, and Shen Yuan cannot help but find it cute. In Luo Binghe's logic, Shen Qingqiu is his and always was. Bai Lian had stuck her hands into his honey pot and stolen something away. Now he's done the same back, rubbing her face in it. It's needlessly mean. But then, Luo Binghe always was decisive even to the point of overkill.

Shen Qingqiu looks at Bai Lian. He tries to say something, and fails. What could he say to her now?

Luo Binghe doesn't pull off. He seems to luxuriate in the sensation of Shen Qingqiu's cock softening inside of him. But, his marking of territory is not done yet. He presses his palm over Shen Qingqiu's sternum. "Now, Shizun, tell her who you belong to. Her, or me."

He’d already mourned his marriage, though it did not end as he thought it would. Bai Lian, as expected, never stood a chance.

Who could when compared to Luo Binghe, after all?

"Yours, Binghe," Shen Qingqiu answers.