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This wasn't his bed.

He opened his eyes into bluish twilight and frowned. His head hurt. The bed he'd woken up on was piled with silky fabric and furs. It had a canopy of delicately wrought metal and a bunch of heavily embroidered pillows. His whole body seemed to be suffering from the hangover to end all hangovers, which might explain why he couldn't remember how he'd gotten here.

Which left him with three important questions: Where was he, how did he get here, and what the fuck was going on?

"You're in the Northern Palace. You've lost your memory. Your name is Shang Qinghua," said a low, rumbling voice, which answered some of his questions but clarified absolutely fucking nothing.

He whirled around to face the speaker, who was—yikes!—right there in bed with him, and also—yikes!—not wearing a shirt. Which meant he found himself facing the naked chest of the hottest demon in Proud Immortal Demon Way. He knew that for sure, because he'd written him like that.

He was looking at Mobei Jun, who looked exactly the way he'd imagined him. Except his imagination wasn't quite good enough to do justice to the vision of handsomeness he now found himself confronted with.

"What the fuck," he said.

Mobei Jun frowned at him. Oh no. He'd written that frown, too, and possibly he'd over-used some descriptors, like, say, "intimidating," and "fierce," and "petrifying."

Well, now he was thoroughly petrified. He'd really played himself there.

Wait. Had he just cursed at Mobei Jun, his Highness, demon lord of the north? Fuck.

"M-my king," he stuttered.

Mobei Jun's frown intensified.

Not good. Definitely not good.

"Shang Qinghua. You are safe. You are mine. You were given a poison that affects your memory. Dual cultivation will cure the effects. We will wait until you are ready for it. Do you have any questions?" Mobei Jun said, in a tone that did not invite further questions.

"N-no, my king?" he squeaked out, which was apparently the correct answer, because the glacial frown thawed a little.

Mobei Jun lay back on the bed and crossed his arms behind his head, which incidentally threw every one of the breathtaking muscles of his chest and stomach into sharp relief. Arms, some appallingly unhelpful part of his brain gibbered. Chest. Nipples.

But okay. He could get it together. Clearly, he'd transmigrated. He'd read enough novels to know that the key to transmigration success was to play it cool and roll with the scenario.

What did he know? He was Shang Qinghua, current advisor to Mobei Jun, future disloyal rat traitor and victim of Mobei Jun's swift and brutal revenge.

That was bad. That was, in fact, catastrophically bad. Possibly not unfixable, though, as Mobei Jun didn't seem to have caught on to the "disloyal rat traitor" situation just yet. So maybe he—Shang Qinghua—still had a chance to fix that whole situation.

After all, he'd woken up in what appeared to be Mobei Jun's bed. Presumably he'd, what, passed out? While giving some sort of report in Mobei Jun's quarters? And Mobei Jun had been nice enough to let him sleep it off in his bed instead of leaving him on the icy floor he'd passed out on?

That was promising, wasn't it? If Mobei Jun already suspected him, he probably wouldn't have been so nice about this whole situation.

Okay. He could work with this. First, he needed to find out what he was meant to know—

Wait.

Shang Qinghua had been given memory-altering poison. Did that mean— Had he only transmigrated just now, or had he been here a while? Was he meant to remember something about being Shang Qinghua? Was there a way to get those memories back?

Dual cultivation will cure the effects, his brain helpfully replayed for him, in Mobei Jun's sexy rumbling voice.

Well. That. That was—that sure was—that was something, all right. It was certainly a plausible fix—after all, this was the world of Proud Immortal Demon Way, into which he'd written not one but several memory-altering poisons that could be cured by papapa. But what did Mobei Jun mean by "We will wait until you are ready for it?" Specifically the parts with the "we" and the "it"?

"It" as in "dual cultivation," and "we" as in "Shang Qinghua and Mobei Jun"?

That was absurd. That was absurd, right?

Clearly, he'd gotten something terribly wrong somewhere.

Shang Qinghua might still be a valued advisor right now, considering the fact that Mobei Jun had let him recover in his own bed, but he couldn't possibly be valued enough that Mobei Jun—Mobei Jun!—would lower himself to dual cultivate with Shang Qinghua.

Maybe he'd meant he was going to make Shang Qinghua dual cultivate with someone else?

"If you have no further questions, we will sleep," Mobei Jun said.

"Yes, my king," Shang Qinghua said faintly.

Sleep. Sleep where? He had no idea where Shang Qinghua's rooms were. If he went stumbling blindly through the Northern Palace with no idea of where he was going or who anyone was, he'd definitely get himself into trouble with the local demons—who, according to his own writings, were not fond of humans in general and Shang Qinghua in specific.

There was some sort of enormous and plush-looking pelt in front of the fireplace. Oh, hey, fireplace. That was weird. Why did Mobei Jun, who was an ice demon and therefore impervious to the cold, have a fire in his bedroom? Anyway, maybe Shang Qinghua could curl up over there, and if he made himself really small and quiet, Mobei Jun would just ignore him until he could figure out what to do in the morning?

"Qinghua!" Mobei Jun snapped.

Shang Qinghua jumped, ready to roll out of bed, throw himself to his knees, and grovel for forgiveness and also the right to a spot on that plush-looking pelt. But before he could move, Mobei Jun grabbed him by the shoulders, pushed him flat on the bed, and piled blankets and furs on top of him until Shang Qinghua was wrapped up as snugly as a limited-edition glass figurine packaged for international shipping.

"Sleep," Mobei Jun said, and then he yanked the fur-wrapped bundle of Shang Qinghua closer, pinned him down with one arm, and… closed his eyes like a man about to go to sleep where he lay.

"What?" Shang Qinghua whispered, very quietly, just a tiny little helpless breath of a noise.

Mobei Jun didn't seem to hear him, likely because he was busy going to sleep. With an arm wrapped around Shang Qinghua's fur-covered shoulders.

Okay. All right. So apparently Mobei Jun had also realized what would happen if he sent his poor amnesiac advisor stumbling through his palace at night, and he didn't want that to happen? Maybe? Had he written him as the sort of demon who cared about things like that? The sort of demon who'd come up with a solution like this?

Apparently, Shang Qinghua was a very valued advisor. Or possibly a flight risk Mobei Jun had decided to keep an eye on?

"Qinghua. Sleep now," Mobei Jun rumbled.

All right. Shang Qinghua could deal with this. He could play it cool. He'd shared a bed with people before. Well. He'd once shared a bed with his cousin Zhong Heng, during a crowded and uncomfortable sleepover when he'd been thirteen. Zhong Heng had snored, and also kicked him in his sleep.

Mobei Jun didn't snore. He didn't kick, either, which was good, because Shang Qinghua was pretty sure that if he got kicked by Mobei Jun, he'd go flying across the room, and possibly also through a wall.

Unlike Shang Qinghua, Mobei Jun was lying on top of the covers. He didn't wear anything except for a pair of soft pants that, uh, clung, in a way that didn't actually cover all that much and in fact revealed quite a lot of things Shang Qinghua was going to have to stop thinking about immediately, if he didn't want to end up dropkicked through a wall after all.

It took him a long while to go to sleep. But Mobei Jun was very still, and the steady sound of his breaths in the cozy twilight was kind of soothing, actually. And while this bed, with its cloud-soft mattress and its down pillows, was definitely not period-appropriate for a xianxia setting, it was certainly very comfortable.

When he woke up, the room was empty. Shang Qinghua was still wrapped up in his pile of blankets, but Mobei Jun's side of the bed was cold. Well. Not that it had probably ever been warm, what with the ice demon thing, but anyway, Mobei Jun was gone. He'd left Shang Qinghua to sleep in his bed until what was, judging from the bright sunlight streaming in through the windows, somewhere around noon.

Shang Qinghua peeled himself out of his blankets, braced for the shock of icy-cold air, but the roaring fire kept the room pretty cozy, actually. Seriously, what was up with the fire?

Still, the floors, just like the walls, were clearly and horrifyingly made of ice. RIP Shang Qinghua's poor bare feet.

Shang Qinghua carefully dangled one toe off the mattress, and then realized there was a pair of plush fur-lined slippers lined up under the bed, waiting for him. Perfectly in his size, too, and as soft as a cloud. Shan Qinghua drew his thin underrobe a bit more tightly around himself and padded over to the window, which looked out over a breathtaking expanse of ice and snow. Jagged mountains reached up towards the sky like shards of ice.

Shang Qinghua reluctantly drew himself away from the view, which was every bit as awe-inspiring as he'd imagined when he'd written the Northern Palace. He really needed to figure out more about what was going on here.

Hey, if he'd transmigrated, wasn't there supposed to be some sort of… system? Quest list? Helpful hint from the universe?

"System?" he tried, and then jumped backwards, flailing, when a glowing blue screen popped up right in front of his face.

Congratulations! Sandbox mode enabled! a voice said, somehow conveying a note of manic cheer despite the mechanical flatness of its tone.

This seemed somewhat promising. At least if this was sandbox mode, he probably didn't have to deal with a bunch of horrible quests. Although some help would be appreciated, here!

"Uh, hi! System, is there… a map? Special items? Inventory screen?"

The screen flashed red.

Advanced functions: password required, the voice said.

"How about a skills interface?"

Advanced functions: password required

Well, that wasn't any help at all. What sort of paranoid bastard set a password on his own system?

Right. What sort of password would he pick, if he had to pick something related to PIDW?

"How about, uh. Password: Mobei Jun?"

The screen flashed red again.

Access denied. Two attempts remaining

Damn it. "What about… password: Iceblade?"

Access denied. One attempt remaining

System! Why so stingy with the password attempts?

"What happens if I run out of password attempts?"

User account will be locked. Warning: unpleasant consequences may occur! User please take care!

The system's mechanical voice still held that hint of maniacal cheer, despite what was pretty clearly a threat. Shang Qinghua slowly backed away. "Uh, nevermind. That's all right then."

Sandbox mode enabled. User please enjoy!

Great. Clearly he was all on his own here. He was going to have to figure things out the old-fashioned way.

A quick circuit around the room revealed a stack of documents in Shang Qinghua's own spidery handwriting. Okay, so he had been here a while. Probably not a very long while, though. No offense to anyone who dreamed of transmigrating into a realm of myth and magic, but if Shang Qinghua found himself as fate's chosen hero, he'd simply run away instead.

Running away would be easier once he got a few of his memories back, though, so reconnaissance it was. The notes were mainly inventory, most of it for kitchen-related stuff, and a schedule for some sort of upcoming celebration.

Okay, so. Logistics. Shang Qinghua didn't know too much about that, but he was going to have to learn quickly, because judging by the notes, it seemed that he was the person in charge of all the ordering. Shang Qinghua did not want to find out what would happen if a fortress of demons, several of whom would happily eat human flesh in a pinch, ran out of food supplies.

There was also a page covered in English notes, full of what would probably be juicy gossip if Shang Qinghua remembered who any of these people were.

Apparently some minor warlord called Zou Gang was trying to court the princess of the hog demon tribe, Cai Meihou, who wasn't really having it. There were several paragraphs devoted to their total shitshow of a failed romance, and also some very catty notes about Lord Zou (who was, apparently, not blessed with any particular amount of foresight, intelligence, or manners) and Princess Cai (blessed with great beauty, at least by demon standards—you had to know how to appreciate a great big pair of tusks, which demons generally did—but not any notable amount of wisdom).

Also, rooms had been prepared for a visit by General Zhang of the Southern Desert, who Shang Qinghua did remember writing: she was the tall, warrior-princess-in-chainmail-bikini type, a very late addition to Luo Binghe's harem. That was pretty strange. Mobei Jun wasn't even supposed to meet her until long past Shang Qinghua's death. Also, when he'd written her, she definitely hadn't been sharing her quarters with, huh, did that say the captain of her guard and her chief advisor?

Weird. Had the timeline gotten messed up, somehow?

Shang Qinghua sorted the papers back into a neat stack. That'd been interesting, but not as helpful as he'd hoped it would be.

The first door he opened revealed a private bathroom. Shang Qinghua found himself very grateful that when it came to plumbing in PIDW, he'd gone more with xianxia magic and less with historical accuracy.

There was an outfit in Shang Qinghua's size hanging on a stand. The fabric was crisply pressed and smelled so nice and fresh that Shang Qinghua doubted these were the same clothes he'd passed out in after drinking poison last night. Apparently Mobei Jun had some very attentive servants.

The robes were surprisingly fancy: soft fabrics, extensively embroidered with the Mobei Clan's symbol. The cloak had a collar of wonderfully plush white fur, so warm and soft if felt like sticking his face into a cloud. Strange. He'd always imagined Shang Qinghua as a plain sort of guy, someone who wore lots of mousy browns and greys that blended into the background. He was a spy, after all; he was meant to be unobtrusive. No one would overlook someone dressed up like this.

Thankfully Shang Qinghua had cosplayed in xianxia outfits before. Even so, it took him a while to figure out how to put on all those layers.

He was still trying to straighten out his crooked collars when the door opened and Mobei Jun came in. He carried a small potted plant with snow-white leaves and long, translucent blossoms that trailed down like icicles, lit from within by an eerie phosphorescence.

"For you," he said, but he placed it on a shelf high up on the wall instead of putting it in Shang Qinghua's hands. Thank God. Shang Qinghua recognized that plant. He'd written that plant. The Crystal Star of Eternal Frost. A single brush against those sharp-edged white leaves was enough to kill a human, although not without several hours of screaming agony.

"My king. That plant is very deadly to humans…?" Shang Qinghua said hesitantly. Maybe Mobei Jun hadn't known?

"Yes. Do not touch it," Mobei Jun said.

Right. So much for that hope. Message received: I'm not killing you in agonizing ways right now, but put one finger out of line….

Maybe there was a reason the Shang Qinghua of this timeline hadn't betrayed Mobei Jun yet.

Shang Qinghua bowed deeply, and seriously considered the merits of throwing himself down to hug Mobei Jun's muscular thighs for good measure. He thought uneasily about all the things he currently didn't know about how to do his own job. Mobei Jun had been surprisingly patient with his useless-on-account-of-amnesia self so far, but how long could that last?

Mobei Jun suddenly reached out and grabbed him by the collar. Shang Qinghua flinched, but before he could even open his mouth to plead for mercy, Mobei Jun gave his robes a firm tug, straightening out the whole mess of layered collars Shang Qinghua had spent the last fifteen minutes fiddling with, and released him again.

"Come," Mobei Jun said.

He started walking without waiting to see whether Shang Qinghua would follow. Shang Qinghua had to stretch his legs to keep up with Mobei Jun's long strides.

Mobei Jun took him to a huge stateroom, where a long empty table was set with a single place setting. A pale blue porcelain bowl so fine it was almost transparent steamed gently in the cool air, a warming talisman attached to its side.

Mobei Jun took the seat at the head of the table and waved Shang Qinghua into the chair at his right hand, where the soup stood waiting.

"Eat."

"Yes, my king," Shang Qinghua said. He looked down the length of the enormous table, which could easily have seated thirty people. "You're not eating, my king?"

"I've had my breakfast," Mobei Jun said.

It was kind of an awkward time, late for breakfast and early for lunch. Mobei Jun could've just made him wait until the next scheduled mealtime. Instead here they were, the two of them in this huge deserted hall, which was clearly meant to receive visitors far more distinguished than Shang Qinghua.

"Eat," Mobei Jun said again, so Shang Qinghua hastily shoved a spoonful of soup into his mouth. He wasn't expecting much. The noodles had clearly been pulled by the kitchen apprentice, lumpy and unevenly cut as they were. Fair enough, considering someone had had to whip up a snack for Shang Qinghua in between proper mealtimes.

He was totally unprepared for the taste, which was perfect. The broth was rich and flavorful, perfectly spiced. Even the lumpy noodles were wonderfully chewy and tasty.

It was a little hard to enjoy his meal, though, with Mobei Jun staring at him expectantly. He was clearly waiting for Shang Qinghua to say or do something, and Shang Qinghua had absolutely no idea what it was. He was increasingly worried that if he couldn't come up with something soon, Mobei Jun would send his head rolling into this very good bowl of noodles.

He tried frantically to think of something he could contribute. If Mobei Jun was wasting his very valuable time sitting here all alone with Shang Qinghua, then clearly he wanted privacy for something. Maybe he wanted some sort of report? But he already knew that Shang Qinghua had lost his memory.

Oh! The notes!

"My king, stop me if you've heard this before—" he said, and then he launched into a summary of everything that had been in his notes. Mobei Jun watched him expressionlessly, but he didn't tell him to stop or bash him over the head, so Shang Qinghua was pretty sure it was all right?

He wasn't entirely sure about including the more gossipy bits, but there wasn't enough intel to get them through the whole bowl of soup without them, so Shang Qinghua somewhat hesitantly launched into the story of Zou Gang's failed courtship of the hog demon princess. Mobei Jun let him yammer on, and even smirked a little at one point, so Shang Qinghua risked giving a little of his own thoughts on the political situation, too, or at least the parts of it his notes had covered.

"—and that's why I think you shouldn't invite them to the hunt, even though you do need to invite them to the feast. That's, uh, what I think. If that's all right? My king?" he finished.

Mobei Jun's ferocious frown had softened an infinitesimal amount.

"Even now, Qinghua is useful," Mobei Jun said.

Whew. That was good. That seemed pretty good, right?

"Glad to be useful! Very glad!" Shang Qinghua said hastily.

Mobei Jun frowned, a sharp line between his brows. Shang Qinghua winced. Had he said something wrong?

"This is a safe place," Mobei Jun said abruptly. "Our enemies have been vanquished. The dungeons stand empty. The servants are loyal. None would dare betray us. Do you understand?"

"I understand! I understand perfectly, my king!"

Loyal servants don't end up in the conveniently empty dungeons. Crystal clear!

Mobei Jun gave him a searching look, that line between his brows deepening even further.

Shang Qinghua hastily slurped down the last of his soup, mostly for an excuse to look away from that intent icy glare.

"That was delicious!" he said, because the silence between them was so thick it had an almost physical weight, and Shang Qinghua didn't do well with silence at the best of times.

Mobei Jun nodded, very gravely and seriously, as if Shang Qinghua had made an important announcement.

"Come. I will show you the castle." Mobei Jun got to his feet and started walking towards the doors.

"Oh! Um, you personally? My king?"

Shang Qinghua had to jog a few steps to catch up with him.

They passed a few other demons in the hallways. Most of them were at least a head taller than Shang Qinghua. All of them were equipped with swords and claws and, in one case, the biggest battle axe Shang Qinghua had ever seen or even imagined. And he had a very vivid imagination.

Shang Qinghua edged a little closer to Mobei Jun. He was pretty sure that to most of those demons, he was both nuisance-shaped and snack-sized.

All of them gave Mobei Jun a wide berth, though, and everyone bowed to them as they passed. Or, well, they bowed to Mobei Jun, obviously, but with them making sure not to come too close, it ended up looking like Shang Qinghua was included in the bow, so he had to bow back to be polite, and definitely deeper than they did, considering the whole 'snack-sized' situation. But then Mobei Jun grabbed him under the elbow, pulled him upright, and gave him an exasperated look. The demons all looked kind of weirded out, too, and to be fair, with all the bowing and scraping he was really slowing Mobei Jun down.

So maybe it was understood that when he was walking with his king, he skipped the bowing?

He really hoped it was understood. Shang Qinghua did not want beef with Mr. Lean, Mean, and Big-Horned over there.

Mobei Jun took them through the palace at a brisk pace, which didn't give Shang Qinghua a lot of time to appreciate all the wonders they were walking past: towering columns made of clear ice, fragile-looking room dividers with delicate frosted snowflake patterns, floating magic lights lighting up the halls.

All of that would've been fine—great, even!—but Mobei Jun kept stopping to point out the apparently endless amount of death traps the palace came equipped with. Shang Qinghua started feeling queasy somewhere around the fifteenth trap door, secret pit full of spikes, vanishing cabinet, or shock-release mechanism.

Okay, he'd written the Northern Palace with a trap or two, but nothing like this! Every single damn hallway seemed to have multiple ways to get someone lost, captured, or disappeared, and Mobei Jun obviously wanted to make sure he knew it.

Put one toe out of line, and Shang Qinghua could end up flash-frozen into a decorative statue at the push of a button.

Finally Mobei Jun took them down a long, winding set of stairs and paused by the door to the outside, giving Shang Qinghua another of those intense, expectant looks.

"Will you remember?" he asked gravely.

"Yes! Yes. I definitively won't forget. Very nice, um, trapped castle. Very, uh, secure?" Shang Qinghua said. Babbling, God, he was babbling. Mobei Jun was going to shove him in one of those trapped cabinets and throw away the key.

"Yes. There are many ways to deal with threats," Mobei Jun said.

"Yes! I got that, my king! I definitely got that!"

This whole "intimidate Shang Qinghua into never, ever, ever having a traitorous thought ever again" tour really was completely unnecessary. Message very much received!

"Good," Mobei Jun said, looking satisfied.

Great! Please be satisfied! Shang Qinghua had really had enough intimidation for the day.

The next part of the tour took them out into the gardens. Silvery stone paths led through snow-covered grounds. There were more plants than Shang Qinghua would've expected from this frozen place, most of them wildly fantastical. Some he remembered writing—or, well, mentioning with a throw-away sentence or two, in a scene otherwise dedicated to papapa—but it was something else entirely, seeing them like this, in the flesh. Or the flesh-eating flora, as it were.

Most of these were almost as deadly as the plant Mobei Jun had brought to his room, although there were a few healing plants, too, and. Um. That was definitely a whole stand of Slippery Sylphs, their overflowing pitchers dripping with, well. It was lube, obviously. That was a lube plant, and it wasn't supposed to grow in the snow like this, but apparently someone had gone to some trouble to cultivate it here.

Mobei Jun led them onto the delicate arch of a bridge and stopped to look down at the glittering silver pond below. Shang Qinghua spotted something dark and enormous moving in the depths of the pool, but he couldn't get a good look until Mobei Jun stretched his hand out over the pool, opened a vein with one of his claws as if it were nothing, and shook a spatter of blood into the water.

"My king!"

The peaceful pool exploded into a frenzy. The water seethed with black and purple koi. Even the smallest was larger than a full-grown man. Their gaping mouths showed rows upon rows of razor-sharp teeth.

"Devouring Carp," Mobei Jun said. "They can eat three times their bodyweight in a single day."

"Fascinating, my king," Shang Qinghua said faintly.

Enough, already! Please, could it be enough now? There was only so much you could scare a single fragile human man before his heart gave out.

"I'll try really very extremely hard not to give my king a reason to feed me to the fishes?"

It was a weak joke. Mobei Jun gave him an irritated glance.

Shang Qinghua snapped his mouth shut.

Mobei Jun took him by the hand and started towing him along again. Shang Qinghua didn't have any intention of escaping, there really was no need to hold onto him like this. Where would he go? The Northern Palace was surrounded by miles and miles of frozen desert. Even moving as fast as a sword could carry him, he'd die of exposure before getting anywhere near any place where someone might be willing to help him.

And of course Mobei Jun, who could step through the shadows in an instant, could follow him wherever he went.

The next step of the intimidation murder mystery tour took them up to the roof of the palace. Shang Qinghua had to give it to this body he'd transmigrated into, it was a lot fitter than his old one had been. If he'd tried to drag that body up this many sets of stairs at this pace, someone would've had to resuscitate him halfway through.

Mobei Jun didn't even bother to say anything this time, just let the view make his point for him: the sheer drop to the jagged rocks below, the miles and miles of ice and snow stretching unbroken to the horizon. No place to seek shelter, nowhere to run.

This was the sort of situation where Shang Qinghua would usually break into babbling or pleading, but his mouth had gone dry. He just stood there, clinging to the hand Mobei Jun had used to pull him along.

There was an icy wind howling around the parapet, driving slivers of frost through the air like tiny knives. But apparently something about being with Mobei Jun protected him from the force of it, so it felt like nothing more than a refreshing spring breeze on his face. Shang Qinghua wasn't sure if Mobei Jun was doing it on purpose, or if it would still work without holding his hand, but he wasn't letting go to find out.

It really was a long, long way down to the rocks below. Shang Qinghua shuffled a little closer to the solid bulwark of Mobei Jun's body.

"I'm useful, aren't I?" he asked plaintively. "I've served you well, my king?"

Mobei Jun frowned at him. He lifted up the hand Shang Qinghua was still clinging to in a pointed sort of way. "Useful or not, Shang Qinghua is mine. He is safe with me."

All right. Okay. That was clear enough, wasn't it? As long as Shang Qinghua stayed loyal—stayed his—no one would throw him to the Devouring Carp or off any roofs. That's what that meant, right?

They stood there for a while longer. Mobei Jun didn't say anything else, but he didn't take away his hand, either. And now that Shang Qinghua was paying attention, he could actually tell that there was a slow but steady flow of qi passing from Mobei Jun to him, so apparently he really was shielding him from the cold on purpose.

The winter gale whispered gently over Shang Qinghua's skin. At the horizon, the sky lit up with spears of green light.

"Oh!" Shang Qinghua said, awed. He pressed a little closer to the parapet, the drop beneath forgotten. He'd never seen the aurora before. He'd only written it into PIDW so Luo Binghe could papapa in its romantic glow. It had felt kind of cheap and kitschy at the time, but it really was something, seeing it for real like that.

"Qinghua had not seen the northern lights before he came to live here," Mobei Jun said.

"No," Shang Qinghua confirmed, and then realized it hadn't been a question.

If Mobei Jun had already known that, maybe that meant—

"Did you… bring me here to show me, my king?"

"There are many beautiful things in my kingdom," Mobei Jun said pointedly, which Shang Qinghua was pretty sure meant that he had, in fact, taken him here at least partially to show them off.

Aww. That was kind of sweet. So it wasn't all 'betray me and get fed to the demon carp,' but also a little bit of 'be loyal and get to see the wonders of the demonic realm?'

"It's very beautiful. Thank you, my king."

Mobei Jun looked satisfied, or at least slightly less murderous, which Shang Qinghua was gonna choose to interpret the same way.

They watched the glittering lights until the last of the green glow had faded away, and then Mobei Jun tugged him firmly away from the edge of the roof.

"Would Qinghua like to take a bath?"

"Um. I guess?" Shang Qinghua said. He'd washed himself pretty thoroughly a couple hours ago, but—oh no, did he smell? Mobei Jun had just yanked him up and down a million sets of stairs, and Shang Qinghua got sweaty when he was nervous, too.

Shang Qinghua tried to give his own armpit a surreptitious sniff. Oh no. Now that he thought about it, his underrobes were kind of clammy. And demons had much more sensitive noses than humans did. In fact, hadn't he written something about how demons could smell fear? If even he could smell himself, to Mobei Jun's nose he probably reeked.

"Oh no. My king, I'm sorry, I'll definitely take a bath right away. Um. Only I, maybe, kind of, don't remember where my rooms are…?"

Mobei Jun gave him an exasperated look. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no. Stinky and useless. Shang Qinghua was really hitting it out of the park in the "servants you might want to reconsider throwing to the Devouring Carp" category today.

Mobei Jun towed him down another endless set of stairs. Weirdly it was getting warmer with every step they took. Mobei Jun abruptly let go of his hand. The warmth was a lot less uncomfortable without whatever connection to Mobei Jun's ice demon aura had kept Shang Qinghua warm, but even so, it made him sweat in his fur-lined coat.

It was certainly warmer than anything should be in the Northern Palace. The air felt as hot and humid as a bathhouse—which was exactly what it was, Shang Qinghua realized, when he followed Mobei Jun through another set of array-locked doors and into a cavernous chamber with a bubbling pool in the middle.

A hot spring! Shang Qinghua had in fact written about the Northern Palace having a hot spring underneath it. But it was supposed to be sealed. After all, what ice demon wanted a hot spring in their frozen fortress?

Luo Binghe was supposed to discover it—a nice surprise for the demon emperor to papapa in—but not until, like, way late in the timeline.

In this timeline, someone had turned the hot spring into a spa. Wide ledges had been chiseled into the stone sides of the pool, and some of the water had been diverted to form a waterfall just tall enough to comfortably stand under, like a natural shower.

A tiny imp was putting out a stack of fluffy towels in a corner of the room, next to a table with a pitcher of ice water, platters of cut-up fruit, and several covered dishes.

"My king! This is amazing! Are you sure it's okay for me to be here?"

Shang Qinghua really hoped he'd left himself some notes somewhere. Clearly, he was missing some important information. Mobei Jun wouldn't build a bathhouse for just anyone. Whoever this place had been made for had to be powerful, fond of the warmth, and yet here in the frozen north frequently enough to make it worth the effort.

Shang Qinghua couldn't think of anyone who fit the bill.

An ambassador from one of the southern regions, maybe? But Shang Qinghua didn't remember writing any recurring character like that. He hated feeling like his mental map of this place had such an important gap.

Was it General Zhang? Had Mobei Jun been seduced by her chainmail-bikini'd charms? In PIDW, Mobei Jun and her had had a good working relationship before she'd gotten absorbed into Luo Binghe's harem. Maybe in this strange altered timeline, where she'd met Mobei Jun much earlier and also wasn't married to Luo Binghe, they had something more than that?

That was kind of weird to think about, so Shang Qinghua just… wouldn't.

Really, though. If she'd caught the eye of Mobei Jun himself, what was she doing, carrying on with her captain and her chief advisor? Who'd want anyone else if they could have Mobei Jun?

Was that why he had so much time to waste for his disloyal rat traitor of an advisor? Was Mobei Jun trying to drown the sorrows of a jilted heart in his work?

"Take your time. I will be busy for a while," Mobei Jun said, while Shang Qinghua was still trying to figure out if his face was normal-fierce or broken-heartedly fierce. He stepped over to the little imp to have a short, low-voiced, intense-looking conversation.

Shang Qinghua really hoped this was a "This human may smell like a rotting fish, but he's not for snacking on even if you like that sort of thing" type conversation.

Mobei Jun finished whatever point he was making and strode off without a backwards glance. Shang Qinghua caught himself sighing admiringly. Gotta love a stoic leading man of few words. His king was so cool.

You wouldn't even be able to tell that his heart had been broken at all!

Well, maybe. Or maybe there was some other hot-water-loving demon seductress running around, and Mobei Jun was in fact prepared to propose and settle down with a hoard of tiny adorable blue-skinned demon babies any day now—

The imp bowed deeply. "Lord Shang will ring if he requires me?" he said, thankfully ripping Shang Qinghua from that weirdly unsettling train of thought.

"Sure! Absolutely! Um, between the two of us assistants—if anyone important comes in and wants to use this place, will you give me a heads-up? I'd rather not meet General Zhang while I'm naked."

The imp gave him a strange look and then another deep bow. "Our king has given clear orders. No one will dare disturb Lord Shang while he bathes."

All right then. They were firmly in the "carrot" part of the "carrot and the stick" tour, apparently. Well, he was happy to make the most of it while it lasted. He only hoped no one important was going to try and use the bath in the next two hours and take offence at getting locked out, because Shang Qinghua was not wasting this opportunity.

He waited until the little imp had bowed his way out of the room and then dumped his sweaty robes over one of the screens, carefully dipped his toe into the water, and sank in with a groan of pleasure. It was just on the perfect side of too hot. Shang Qinghua could feel every single knotted muscle in his body unraveling.

The water was crystal clear and smelled faintly of lotus blossoms, which Shang Qinghua was pretty sure had never been true of any natural hot spring ever. But this was the land of Proud Immortal Demon Way, and he could hardly have the protagonist papapa in a spring that smelled like rotting eggs, now could he?

Shang Qinghua thoroughly scrubbed himself down, floated for a while, and then had a genius idea and put one of the fruit platters by the side of the pool, so he could float while also shoveling orange slices into his mouth.

Ah. This was the life.

He was going to be Mobei Jun's most loyal servant forever and ever and ever, if this was what it got him.

He stayed in the water, snacking and floating, until his fingertips shriveled up like prunes, and then he dried himself off and rang for the imp, who, it turned out, already had a new set of robes all ready and waiting for him. These ones were even fancier.

Shang Qinghua was a much snazzier dresser than he'd given him credit for when he wrote him.

The imp also helped him do up his hair in a more elaborate style than the clumsy topknot he'd managed on his own that morning. That only left him with the problem that he still didn't know where his quarters were, a problem that was postponed once again when Mobei Jun swept back into the room.

This seemed like more personal attention than even an important advisor should merit, never mind one who wasn't going to be much use to anyone until he regained his memory.

"Are you hungry?" Mobei Jun asked.

"No, my king."

The covered platters had turned out to contain a variety of sweet and savory pastries, and Shang Qinghua had pretty much decimated them. Sorry, whoever was going to use the spa after him. Nothing left but crumbs.

Whoever did the cooking for Mobei Jun must be some sort of culinary genius. Everything on those platters had been as delicious as if someone had hand-picked Shang Qinghua's favorites for him.

The next person waiting for their soak did in fact turn out to be General Zhang, who came tromping down the stairs with her chainmail bikini—seriously, Shang Qinghua knew he was the hack who'd written it like that, but how did that skimpy bit of metal work as armor?—and also her advisor and her chief of guard.

Shang Qinghua gave her a glare, and then had to hurry to catch up with Mobei Jun's long-legged strides, trying to figure out whether that curt nod Mobei Jun had given her and her entourage was just normal Mobei Jun curtness or the sort of curtness that hid a bruised and tender heart.

Mobei Jun took him back to his own room instead of the office Shang Qinghua had expected. All their meetings had been private ones so far. Well, Shang Qinghua was a spy, and whatever task Mobei Jun had for him was likely to be a secret one.

He was trying not to stress too much about it. Mobei Jun knew he didn't have his memory, and he hadn't been cruel about anything so far. He'd understand that there were things Shang Qinghua couldn't do right now, wouldn't he?

Shang Qinghua always took a lot of notes. Hopefully he'd left himself something he could use to study up on what was going on. If only someone would finally tell him where his quarters were.

Mobei Jun's room had a fire burning in the grate again. It was really cozy, actually, with the big curtains pulled down to cover the windows and a dozen floating crystal lights giving off a warm golden glow.

Mobei Jun turned to face him, and then he reached out to cup Shang Qinghua's face in one of his big hands. He studied him with that intent frown back on his face. Shang Qinghua went still and let him look his fill, fighting the urge to shuffle his feet. He wasn't really sure what Mobei Jun was looking for.

"Qinghua's not so scared anymore," Mobei Jun finally said.

"Well, um. My king said it would be all right, if this servant isn't so useful for a bit, so long as he is loyal…?"

His voice trailed off uncertainly towards the end.

Mobei Jun frowned at him in a way that made him doubt himself. Was that not what he'd said? But then Mobei Jun sighed and said, "It'll do."

"My king?" Shang Qinghua asked plaintively. Mobei Jun looked kinda unhappy, and Shang Qinghua didn't want him to be unhappy for multiple reasons. Sheer self-preservation, sure, but also… he just didn't want him to be unhappy.

Mobei Jun was still cupping his face with one hand. He tipped Shang Qinghua's chin up so he could look him directly in the eyes. "Qinghua is safe," he said intently. "Do you understand?"

Okay. Cool. They were cool. And Shang Qinghua could work to make sure they stayed that way. He was going to work so hard. He was going to be the most useful servant Mobei Jun had ever had, and Mobei Jun would keep him far away from the Devouring Carp and also maybe occasionally let him book another two hour slot in the amazing demon spa.

Shang Qinghua totally had this, ten out of ten points for transmigration success.

And then Mobei Jun took a step back, tugged the knot loose on his belt, and dropped his robes on the floor.

Shang Qinghua stared.

That was a whole lot of physical perfection just out there for everyone to look at. And Shang Qinghua was definitely looking.

But also—what?

"My king!" he squeaked. "So when you said, dual cultivation…. You, uh. Meant. With you. Now. Here."

Sure, Mobei Jun had talked about dual cultivation, but Shang Qinghua had decided that he must've misunderstood. Mobei Jun couldn't have meant that he was going to dual cultivate with him. And if he was going to make Shang Qinghua dual cultivate with some other demon just to get his useful servant's memory back, then that was something Shang Qinghua would really prefer not to think about.

He'd figured Mobei Jun seemed pretty okay with memory-less him, so they could just wait for the spell to wear off.

But here they were now, in Mobei Jun's room, with Mobei Jun wearing a whole lot of not-a-lot, and his bed was right there, and there really didn't seem to be any other way to read this situation.

"My king?"

Mobei Jun frowned at him. Shang Qinghua shifted nervously from foot to foot.

"If Qinghua does not wish to dual cultivate, he need not," Mobei Jun said. "The curse will wear off in the light of the full moon."

Shang Qinghua froze. Just like that? No dual cultivation, then?

Mobei Jun was still looking at him with his harsh, unreadable face, a sharp line between his brows. Was Mobei Jun angry? He didn't seem angry, but he sure was something, and angry was the most plausible explanation, because if it wasn't that, then it was hurt, or worried, and that just seemed a little unlikely. Mobei Jun wasn't hurt because Shang Qinghua didn't want to sleep with him. That would be ludicrous.

"…my king?" Shang Qinghua tried, tentatively.

"You may leave," Mobei Jun said. The line between his brows had gotten even deeper. "Or stay. As you wish."

"Um."

Shang Qinghua should leave, probably. Go and find someone who could tell him where his quarters were, start studying up on everything he needed to know to get through the next, uh—he stole a glance out the window, where the moon was a big round disk, only just beginning to wane—26 days or so till his memory returned.

Except. Mobei Jun had offered to dual cultivate with him. Was he really just… going to leave, after that? Just… not have sex with the hottest man in PIDW? Was he really turning down the opportunity to do it with Mobei Jun? Was that what he was doing right now?

Oh no. Shang Qinghua was an idiot.

"What if I do want to?" Shang Qinghua asked.

Mobei Jun was still naked to the waist: big broad chest, improbably muscled stomach, small bluish nipples and all. If Shang Qinghua wasn't an idiot, he could be touching that chest right now.

"You need not," Mobei Jun said firmly. "Qinghua will be safe, with his memory or not. If you do not want—"

"I want!" Shang Qinghua said hastily. "Sorry I hesitated, my king! You know me, you know I'm an idiot sometimes. I want, I do want!"

Mobei Jun's frown softened. "Come here, then," he said. He sat down on the edge of his bed, holding out a hand.

Holy shit. They were doing this.

Shang Qinghua tentatively crossed the room, meaning to take Mobei Jun's outstretched hand. But as soon as he was in reach, Mobei Jun took him by the hips, swung him up into his lap as easily as if he weighed nothing at all, and laid back in the pillows.

Shang Qinghua found himself straddling Mobei Jun's waist, with Mobei Jun flat on his back beneath him. Shang Qinghua made a startled noise. He'd automatically reached out to brace himself, so now his hand was just right there, flat on Mobei Jun's naked chest. Touching.

"Oh! Hi! Hello there!" he stammered, and then Mobei Jun—thankfully—shut him up by putting his hand in Shang Qinghua's hair and pulling him down for a kiss.

You didn't write as many words about demons and tentacle plants and fantastical creatures as Shang Qinghua had without being at least a little bit of a monster fucker. Shang Qinghua was totally at peace with that aspect of himself. (Unlike some people he could name. God help that poor repressed mess of a Peerless Cucumber if he ever transmigrated into one of those novels he liked to criticize, ha!)

Anyway, the point was: fangs. Claws. Mobei Jun had them, and some part of Shang Qinghua was definitely gibbering in excitement about that.

It helped that Mobei Jun clearly knew what to do with them, and specifically how to direct the kiss so Shang Qinghua could lick those sexy, sexy fangs without slicing his tongue open, which would definitely have happened if it'd been up to him.

The teeth weren't the only cool monster feature, either. Mobei Jun didn't object when Shang Qinghua traced his pointed ear with his fingers, and he even tilted his head when Shang Qinghua experimentally pressed a kiss to the tip of it. Shang Qinghua kissed his way down his neck from there, because it was right there, tilted all invitingly.

"More biting," Mobei Jun rumbled, in his deep, growly voice.

Oh man. Shang Qinghua hoped Mobei Jun didn't object to the fact that Shang Qinghua was pressing a rock-hard dick into his stomach, because he really wasn't sure how to help that whole situation, and his loose robes didn't do much to hide it.

He set his teeth to Mobei Jun's neck and gave him a careful, experimental bite.

"Mn. Harder," Mobei Jun said. Shang Qinghua complied, which got him a happy rumbling noise that was definitely going to feature in his fantasies for years to come.

He'd written demons as pretty rough and tumble in bed, hadn't he? His hand was still curled around Mobei Jun's ear, so he gave that an experimental little tug, fully prepared to get his hand smacked away. Instead Mobei Jun made that pleased rumbling noise again and arched his neck further into the grip of Shang Qinghua's teeth.

He tried to let Mobei Jun's reactions guide him, fully prepared to back off the second he got the slightest sign of displeasure. But Mobei Jun just kept making more of these encouraging noises the harder he went. Shang Qinghua emerged from a daze with Mobei Jun bent back in an arch by the ear Shang Qinghua had clamped in an iron grip. Several large, purplish-blue bruises decorated his king's neck.

"Um," Shang Qinghua said, smoothing his thumb over the ear he'd maltreated. That had gotten away from him a little. It was a good thing demons had healing powers that would take care of these bruises in no time flat, because no collar was going to hide those.

"Got a little carried away there, haha. Um."

Mobei Jun gripped him by the back of the head and pulled Shang Qinghua down to his own mouth in turn.

"Um! My king will be merciful? And remember that humans are really very squishy and, um, thin-skinned, and your fangs are very pointy—"

"Hush. Qinghua will not be hurt in my bed."

Mobei Jun was very gentle with his teeth on the skin of Shang Qinghua's neck, and, ooh, a little bit of biting was pretty nice, actually.

"Yeah, ah. That's, mhm. Like that. And also a little—yeah. Exactly. Yeah, right there!" Shang Qinghua said, fairly coherently for someone currently having his neck nibbled on by Mobei Jun, he thought. He only hoped that Mobei Jun remembered that Shang Qinghua didn't have any advanced healing powers, or at least wasn't going to object too strenuously tomorrow when Shang Qinghua walked around with Mobei Jun's marks all over him, because these were definitely going to show above his collar.

Mobei Jun wrapped his hands around Shang Qinghua's waist. God, it was hot how huge his hands were. And then he slipped them around and started working Shang Qinghua's belt open.

There was one thing to be said for these xianxia robes: it was totally possible to sexily peel someone out of them without even interrupting the kissing, or at least it was if you were Mobei Jun.

Of course getting out of the pants involved a whole lot of significantly less sexy wriggling around, which Shang Qinghua was just going to pretend hadn't happened, especially because Mobei Jun managed to get his own pants off in like two seconds flat while Shang Qinghua was still squirming around with his dangling from one ankle.

But then he was naked in Mobei Jun's lap, and they were both naked, and that was just a whole lot of naked skin touching his.

Specifically, he couldn't help but notice that there was Mobei Jun's, um, pillar, right there, brushing against the small of Shang Qinghua's back, hot and hard and, when he craned his neck around to catch a glimpse, uh. Sizable. Yeah. Why had he spent so much time going on about the huge, throbbing, enormous pillars of demonkind? Shang Qinghua was an idiot of a sell-out hack who'd really played himself.

Shang Qinghua squirmed back against that big cock, just to confirm for himself that, yes, that pillar felt as big as it looked. If not bigger. Mobei Jun made a low, rumbling noise and jerked under him, pressing his cock more firmly against Shang Qinghua's back.

Oh yeah, right. That was why he'd written it like that. Because he thought it was hot. Like really, really hot.

He just had to not think too much about where that appealingly oversized pillar was probably going to go in a minute.

"Qinghua. Focus," Mobei Jun said, sounding amused. Shang Qinghua realized belatedly that he'd spent the last minute just sort of squirming on Mobei Jun's lap, thinking anxious-horny thoughts and rubbing himself against that big cock in a distracted sort of way. Thankfully, his king didn't look too annoyed about it.

Shang Qinghua wasn't sure what he was meant to do now. Sure, the mechanics were clear enough. You didn't write that many words of smut and not get clear on the mechanics. Even if it was mostly straight smut, and you were a sad gay sell-out whose punishing publishing schedule didn't actually leave that much room for things like research, or, uh, a sex life of his own. So now he was kind of stuck. How did he get from sitting here to, well, sitting there? Was he just supposed to hop on, and—

"Prepare yourself," Mobei Jun said, and then he took Shang Qinghua's hand and smeared something cool and slippery over his fingers. Right. Right, he knew that part, even if he'd never done it in real life. He'd always figured, why make things overly complicated when he could just rub one out real quick whenever he felt like it?

When he had thought about other things, well. In his fantasies—when he got so far as to properly fantasize, instead of just frantically getting himself off to vague images of a powerful body pinning him down—he'd always imagined that if he did ever get around to this sort of thing, it'd be with someone experienced. Someone who was sure of themselves, maybe someone a little bit bossy. He'd figured they'd handle this part of things.

Except Mobei Jun was not going to handle this part of things, because claws.

All right. Shang Qinghua had this. It was just a little weird to do it with Mobei Jun right there, watching him. Shang Qinghua tentatively reached back with his slippery hand. He couldn't help but notice that with him still perched on Mobei Jun's hips, with his back arched and twisted the way it needed to be for him to reach, his own cock was kind of all up in Mobei Jun's face. He hoped Mobei Jun didn't mind—

Okay, Mobei Jun apparently did not mind. Mobei Jun wrapped a hand around his cock, letting Shang Qinghua thrust into the loose circle of his fingers, his hand still a little slippery with lube—

Shang Qinghua groaned, hunching over so he could better thrust into that loose grip. But then Mobei Jun took his hand away.

Shang Qinghua looked at him pleadingly. Mobei Jun raised an eyebrow back at him.

Right. He was meant to be getting on with it, wasn't he. Shang Qinghua felt around for the right spot and tentatively pushed a finger inside. That was. Hm. It didn't hurt, but it did feel strange, and it was even stranger to do it with Mobei Jun watching him expectantly.

Shang Qinghua poked around a little. There was supposed to be a magical spot that'd feel really good, right? People in porn seemed to think so, anyway. Except possibly that was made up porn nonsense, the way the g-spot was? Shang Qinghua had never been entirely sure. Either way, his own clumsy explorations didn't make the magic happen.

He was kind of worried that Mobei Jun might be getting impatient. He seemed to be frowning again, although it was honestly hard to tell the difference on that severe face. Shang Qinghua hastily crammed in a second finger. That was kind of uncomfortable, which didn't seem to bode well for his ability to take the oversized pillar still prodding insistently against his back.

On the other hand, Shang Qinghua had seen plenty of porn in his life, and people took cocks that size all the time with no problem, so. It would probably be fine? Mobei Jun seemed to know what he was doing, so if he thought this was doable, it had to be, right?

Either way, he'd gotten things about as wet as they were going to get, so it was time to stop stalling and get on with it. Shang Qinghua took a deep breath.

"Ready, my king. I think. Yeah. Should be fine?"

His voice hitched uncertainly, which wasn't sexy. Mobei Jun's frown definitely got more severe at that.

"Yeah. Ready," Shang Qinghua said, more firmly, trying to sound like the sort of sexy confident good-at-sex type of person Mobei Jun was probably used to having in his bed.

Mobei Jun put his big hands on Shang Qinghua's ass, spread him open, and pressed a knuckle against Shang Qinghua's hole. He wasn't trying to push inside, just sort of—feeling him? Shang Qinghua twitched nervously.

Mobei Jun made an exasperated noise. "No. Do it properly."

Oh. Okay, great. He'd done it wrong. How did you do "sticking your fingers up your own ass" wrong? More importantly, how did you do it right? Shang Qinghua really hated to disappoint Mobei Jun, but they were way past the limits of his own experience here. He'd done it like they did it in porn, more or less. He was pretty sure.

He was still trying to figure out what to do with himself when Mobei Jun grabbed him by the hips, lifted him like he weighed nothing at all, and yanked him up until he was perched over Mobei Jun's shoulders. Shang Qinghua spent a startled moment trying not to flail in surprise, painfully aware that now his cock really was right up in Mobei Jun's face, and then Mobei Jun lifted up his head and took him into his mouth.

The noise Shang Qinghua made could go right on the list of mortifying things they'd have to pretend hadn't happened in this bed tonight.

Mobei Jun made an amused sound, and even though it was wordless, Shang Qinghua somehow knew what it meant: focus. Right. Because he was supposed to be doing something here.

Shang Qinghua hastily slipped his finger back in. He still wasn't entirely sure how to do this, but right now the only important thing was that Mobei Jun didn't stop doing what he was doing, so he figured he could worry about that part of it later.

Mobei Jun spread his big hands on Shang Qinghua's ass. He urged him closer, until he was basically crouched over his king's face and his cock was in Mobei Jun's mouth all the way to the hilt. That seemed kind of rude? But Mobei Jun was directing this show, and if that's how he wanted it to go, who was Shang Qinghua to complain?

So Shang Qinghua just groaned and whimpered and let Mobei Jun urge him into shoving his cock into Mobei Jun's mouth as rudely as he wanted.

He mostly forgot about the finger in his ass for a while. Like, it was still kind of an awkward feeling, and also an awkward angle that made his wrist ache, but who gave a damn? But then it turned out that it actually felt kind of nice to have something to clench down on while Mobei Jun sucked him. Shang Qinghua was just getting really into it, and then Mobei Jun pulled off and took his perfect mouth away.

Shang Qinghua cried out in wordless protest. Mobei Jun gave him a toothy smirk.

"You can take another one now.”

He definitely could, no problem at all, as long as it got him Mobei Jun's mouth back.

Shang Qinghua hastily added another finger. Yep, that went much more easily.

Mobei Jun—perfect, beautiful Mobei Jun, truly the ideal man, Shang Qinghua had known what he was about, writing him—put his mouth back.

And then, just a few moments later—or maybe longer than that, but the important thing was, too soon!—he stopped again.

Shang Qinghua wailed in protest. "My king! Please, I was so close! Just a little bit more?”

"Patience,” Mobei Jun said, in his firm, rumbly voice.

Shang Qinghua's cock twitched, but Mobei Jun didn't have mercy.

"You're ready now."

Ready for—? Oh. Oh, shit, they were doing this. Wow. Okay. Mobei Jun had decided he was ready, and Mobei Jun knew what he was doing, so this was going to be fine, probably. This was going to be great.

Mobei Jun lifted him up by the hips again—God, it was hot how he could just manhandle Shang Qinghua like he weighed nothing at all—and positioned him helpfully right above that great big throbbing pillar. Oh God, why hadn't Shang Qinghua showed a little more restraint in his writing.

Mobei Jun's cock nudged up against his hole. Shang Qinghua reached back to steady it with one hand. His fingers didn't even meet when he wrapped them around that thing. Mark him down as scared and incredibly horny.

He braced one hand on Mobei Jun's chest and then nudged Mobei Jun's cock against himself until the head slipped in.

It was a good thing Mobei Jun had him firmly by the hips, because Shang Qinghua's legs gave out all at once. If Mobei Jun hadn't been holding him, that pillar would've ended up a lot deeper in him than was probably a good idea all in one go.

As it was, he was held firm and safe in Mobei Jun's strong grip while his legs twitched and his body clenched and fluttered uncertainly. He traced a finger around his rim, feeling where Mobei Jun speared him open. God, that was one hell of a pillar.

Mobei Jun grunted. His hands tightened on Shang Qinghua's ass and his hips gave a tiny thrust that forced him the slightest bit further inside. Shang Qinghua gasped.

Mobei Jun went still again. "Slowly," he said firmly. "You're all right."

It wasn't a question, but Shang Qinghua nodded anyway. Despite all odds, he was all right. He was good. He was so hard his cock had dripped a glistening line of fluid onto Mobei Jun's steel-hard abs.

He wriggled himself the tiniest bit further onto Mobei Jun's cock. Mobei Jun groaned again. He looked breathless, flushed, the tips of his ears gone all purple.

Shang Qinghua wriggled again, delighted. "Is it good, my king?”

Mobei Jun gave him a stern look. "Qinghua knows it is.”

Well, Shang Qinghua had hoped, anyway. But it was something else to have it confirmed like that: the hottest man in PIDW, Mobei Jun, the ideal man, was all hot and flushed over little old Shang Qinghua. He didn't even know how to feel about that, but it definitely made him feel some kind of way.

Shang Qinghua patted happily at Mobei Jun's chest and then slowly worked himself the rest of the way down. Yeah, wow, that took a while. There was a lot of it to get in, right there. But it did in fact go in, and it was big enough to press on a lot of interesting places in a lot of interesting ways, too.

Halfway down, Shang Qinghua learned that the magical spot wasn't made up porn nonsense when Mobei Jun nudged up against it. Shang Qinghua gave himself such a jolt that this time he really did drop himself the rest of the way. After that, he had to sit there and gasp about it for a bit.

And then he finally realized, oh, wow, his ass was flush with Mobei Jun's hips, and Mobei Jun's cock was all up in there. He'd done it!

"Woohoo!" said Shang Qinghua, like the sad nerd he was in real life, instead of the sexy self-possessed cultivator Mobei Jun had probably hoped he was fucking.

Well, no taking it back now. And anyway, Mobei Jun looked pretty indulgent, and also he was still all flushed around the nose, so overall this was going reasonable well.

Now he needed to just—um. "Uh. So, how do I…."

He shifted uncertainly.

Mobei Jun groaned. He grabbed him by the hips again and guided Shang Qinghua into a rocking, up-and-down motion that pressed Mobei Jun's cock right into that good spot. Mm. Yeah. Definitely not just made-up porn nonsense. Oh God. That was amazing, that was—Yeah. If someone had told him sex was like this, he'd probably have gone and had some at some point before now.

"Is it good, my king? Do you like it?" he gasped, although he was pretty sure of the answer from the way Mobei Jun was clutching him, his chest heaving with great big breaths.

Shang Qinghua started moving faster. His thighs burned. "Is there—Can we—more?” he managed, not very coherently, but the best he could do under the circumstances.

Mobei Jun growled. Oh, holy shit, how was he so hot? The room spun, and there was a great big distracting jolt right against that good spot, and then Shang Qinghua was flat on his back, his ankles over Mobei Jun's shoulders. Wow, he was flexible! Good job, borrowed body!

Mobei Jun planted a hand beside his head and thrust in hard, and that was the last coherent thought Shang Qinghua had for a while.

Coming like that was one hell of a trip. His body wanted to clench up tight, but Mobei Jun's cock was right there, and clenching down on it only pressed it more firmly against the good spot. Also, Mobei Jun growled and pressed him down by the shoulders and thrust in even harder, and everything was already so much, and—there was a lot of groaning and screaming, was the point.

After that, Shang Qinghua flopped into a limp exhausted heap, eyes closed, legs folded every which way, and took a little break from reality.

He came back to himself with his legs more comfortably arranged around Mobei Jun's hips. Mobei Jun was braced over him, softer now but still inside. That didn't seem like it would be all that comfortable for him, but Mobei Jun didn't appear to be in any particular hurry to move. He was stroking Shang Qinghua's hair and making a low, content rumbly sound almost like a purr.

"Mmm," Shang Qinghua said, happily.

The corners of Mobei Jun's eyes softened in a way that was almost like a smile. "Qinghua is awake now?”

"Mn."

"Good."

And then Mobei Jun did pull out. All right, Shang Qinghua knew why he'd waited, now. Oh man. His king was so considerate. That sure was a hell of a feeling.

Shang Qinghua put a hand between his legs, where he felt all hot and open and leaky. He made a quiet sound of dismay.

"Shh," Mobei Jun said. He grasped Shang Qinghua by the wrist and gently pulled his hand away. He took a damp cloth from the nightstand—where did that even come from? Had that been there all along? Was Mobei Jun magic, or did he just do this often enough to know to plan ahead? And if yes, with whom?

Actually, that was kind of a bad thought, and Shang Qinghua was going to stop having it and just lie there while Mobei Jun gently cleaned him up with that very soft cloth he'd had very considerately at hand. This was all much more consideration than anyone should rightly be able to expect from the ferocious ruler of the north, and he'd enjoy it while it lasted.

Mobei Jun wiped himself down, too, and then dropped the cloth on the floor and gathered Shang Qinghua against his side before sliding one hand between his legs. He didn't try to push back in, just rested his blissfully cool fingertips against that sore swollen spot.

"Mm. That feels nice," Shang Qinghua murmured.

"I know," Mobei Jun said.

"You do not! How would you know?" Shang Qinghua mumbled. He was so tired, and Mobei Jun was petting his hair with his free hand, gently cradling Shang Qinghua against his chest.

"Hush. Sleep now. Things will look different in the morning."

Shang Qinghua almost got upset at that. Things were going to be different in the morning. He'd have his memory back, and he'd slot back into the role of Mobei Jun's useful servant. No more need for dual cultivation. No more sleeping in his king's wonderfully comfortable bed.

But Mobei Jun was making that low purring sound again, and it was a very comfortable bed, and a very comfortable chest Shang Qinghua's head was pillowed on, and he wasn't used to this amount of exertion.

Shang Qinghua slept.

***

Qinghua woke up cradled in his husband's strong arms, furs pulled snugly up under his chin, head pillowed on a nice cool ice demon chest. Ahh, yes. This was the life.

Mobei Jun was already awake, Qinghua could tell by the tension in the arms wrapped around him. In fact, that was a lot of tension. Like, a really unhappy amount of tension.

"My king?" he muttered sleepily. The tension got worse. Memory rushed back, like a bucket of ice water to the head.

"Husband," Qinghua said hastily. "It's all right. It's me."

The arms around him tightened fiercely, until Qinghua made a protesting sound, and then loosened all at once.

"Happy to have me back, my king?" Qinghua teased.

Mobei Jun's hands clasped firmly over his shoulders.

"Aw. I'm sorry about all that," Qinghua said.

Mobei Jun's hands patted reassuringly down his back. Qinghua let yesterday's events pass behind his eyes like the most embarrassing slideshow of all time. Well, he'd certainly made a fool of himself. But hey, it wasn't like Mobei Jun hadn't also been a bit, um.

"So when I said, give me some time, maybe don't hit me with the dual cultivation thing all at once, let me get used to you first—"

"I was impatient. I scared you," Mobei Jun said. He wasn't looking at Qinghua.

"Well, uh," Qinghua said. He squirmed around, trying to catch Mobei Jun's eyes. There was something in his voice—

"Qinghua is my husband. And yet I failed to reassure him," Mobei Jun said harshly.

Qinghua abruptly realized that while the past day hadn't exactly been a picnic for him, it must've really sucked for his husband, too. He knew Mobei Jun cared, even if he wasn't always great at showing it in like, the most traditionally human way.

Still, after all this time, shouldn't he know a little bit more about the human ways of courting? Was it too much to hope for some flowers, or a romantic candlelit dinner, or—

Oh no. Qinghua was an idiot.

His eyes went to the Crystal Star of Eternal Frost, up on its high shelf, safely placed where Qinghua couldn't bump into it even if he tripped and fell. Glowing blossoms trailed down over frost-white leaves. It really was very beautiful. The most beautiful of the flowers that bloomed in the northern desert this time of year, at least if you discounted the Blushing Orchid and the Impudent Knobweed, which Qinghua did. He might be the kind of sell-out hack who populated his xianxia world with all sort of sex-themed flora, but he wasn't tacky enough to decorate his bedroom with it.

Had he ever told Mobei Jun so? Had Mobei Jun just known?

So many things that had happened yesterday looked rather different to him now.

Mobei Jun's clumsy hand-pulled noodles, which he kept making because Qinghua liked them, even though it was hard to work with dough when you had claws (sexy, sexy claws). He'd even somehow convinced Luo Binghe to share his secret recipe.

They'd held hands under the glow of the northern lights!

Aww. His king was a romantic. How had he never noticed?

In retrospect, it also made sense that Mobei Jun had wanted him to know where the traps were—not that he knew even half of them, maybe Qinghua should give him a tour. Of course Mobei Jun didn't need to resort to trickery to protect himself from his enemies. Still, one could never be too careful, even when one was a big bad demon lord instead of a little squishy human.

The one thing he couldn't quite figure out—

"Why did you take me to see the Devouring Carp?"

"You like to look at them," Mobei Jun said, giving him an uncertain look. Well, the Mobei Jun version of an uncertain look, which was just his normal glare, but with a little extra wrinkle at the corner of his eyes.

Huh. He did, Qinghua supposed. Only he hadn't really thought about it that way, because objectively speaking they were kind of hideous, at least the part where they were all enormous gaping mouth. But he did like to look at them and feel smart about himself.

"I just think they were a clever solution. It's disgusting how the kitchens just used to throw all their waste in that cavern. You remember when we had that one really hot summer day and it all started to unfreeze—"

"Yes. It was a clever solution," Mobei Jun said.

"Well. I mean. It's nothing really. Anyone could've thought of—"

"No one did," Mobei Jun said.

Qinghua squirmed a little. It was just that before he'd transmigrated, he'd never really been in charge of anything, and now he was kind of in charge of the day-to-day management of the whole palace, and it was nice to think he was doing an okay job of it.

It was nice to think Mobei Jun had noticed, too. And that he'd noticed other things. He'd definitely never talked about the Devouring Carp with Mobei Jun—he wasn't going to involve his king in matters of waste management—but Mobei Jun had known he liked to look at them, and so he'd shown them off.

Qinghua had to hide his face in Mobei Jun's chest, overcome. Aww. His husband had tried so hard. If only Qinghua hadn't wasted all his efforts by being a walking ball of anxiety. Well, mostly, anyway. There was one thing he'd managed to enjoy as it deserved.

"It's a little bit nice we got a do-over on our first time, isn't it? We weren't very good at it, back then."

Mobei Jun's arms tightened around him. "I did not know what I was doing, then. I hurt you."

"No! I mean, maybe a little. Yeah, just, um. Anyway, I punched you in the face!"

"Mn. That also hurt you."

Mobei Jun said it flatly, but Qinghua knew this terrible demon, and he could tell when he was amused at Qinghua's expense. Whatever, they couldn't all be fierce warriors.

Until this whole interlude, Qinghua had almost forgotten how hard he'd once found it to read Mobei Jun. Sure, Mobei Jun had a terrible case of resting murderface, but wasn't it obvious, if you really looked? That hint of softness at the corner of his eyes meant he was looking at something he really liked, and that sharp line between his brows meant he was worried.

Thinking back over the past day, that line had been there a lot.

"You were really worried about me!" Qinghua said. How embarrassing for him. Big bad demon lord worried about little old Shang Qinghua.

"Qinghua is my husband," Mobei Jun said. "Should I not know how to calm his fears?"

Oh man. How many damn ways had Mobei Jun tried to tell him he was safe? And Qinghua had totally failed to get it.

"My king," he said, putting his hand on the back of Mobei Jun's neck.

Mobei Jun winced.

"Husband," Qinghua corrected himself. "You did really well. Seriously. You know what I'm like. I wasn't ever going to not be anxious. Not without, like, a detailed explanation of everything that's happened in the last few years, and honestly probably not even then. And also the curse would've fried my brain, and then no one would've been happy. Except possibly the person who cursed me. Speaking of! Tell me you caught the person who poisoned me. And also please tell me you didn't kill them without at least interrogating them."

Mobei Jun's face darkened further. Oh no. Did that mean they still had a poisoner running around the palace?

"General Zhang caught Lord Zou sneaking out of the kitchen with the poison still in his sleeve."

Ah. Just hadn't caught him personally, then. His poor husband. That was really adding insult to injury.

"She broke both his legs in the fight. I have left the rest of his punishment to you. Only say the word, and I'll tear out his limbs and strip the skin from his body," Mobei Jun said hopefully.

Qinghua kissed him apologetically on the cheek. "My husband already knows how I feel about limb removal. Or skin removal."

Mobei Jun sighed like a demon who'd been burdened by his human spouse's squeamish sensibilities for too long to get truly upset about it anymore. Qinghua patted his back consolingly.

Well, at least they weren't going to have to do a big interrogation. Zou Gang wasn't some clever mastermind, he was just an idiot with a crush on Princess Cai. She'd been mad at Qinghua since he'd gotten Mobei Jun to slap down her attempt to start a border skirmish with one of the human settlements. They could've taken the place, easy, but it had basically no strategic value, and Luo Binghe was serious about demons not messing with humans without good reason, so the whole thing had been a stupid idea from the start.

Qinghua could've maybe been a bit more diplomatic in pointing that out.

Zou Gang must've figured he could impress her by humiliating him. The poison wasn't a particularly dangerous one. It was meant to take away all memories of a lifetime, which, if it had worked as intended, would've left Qinghua with the mind of a helpless newborn in the body of a grown man until the curse wore off in the light of the next full moon.

Of course Lord Zou hadn't known that, just like Fang Hong the Reborn, for whom he'd written that poison in the first place, Qinghua had a whole other lifetime's worth of memories to fall back on. Of course, she had handled the amnesia a lot more gracefully than Qinghua had.

Good thing Mobei Jun had mostly kept him from making too big a fool of himself! But he would definitely have to apologize to Zhang-jie, who was a great general, a valuable ally, and the only other person in this place who understood the appeal of floating in a hot spring with a dirty novel. The hot spring Mobei Jun had built for Qinghua, and no one else. Definitely not poor Zhang-jie, who already had as many lovers as she could handle, and really hadn't deserved Qinghua glaring at her.

Oh no, and he'd need to reassure One-Horn the Destroyer and his squad, who should've thrown themselves flat on the floor when faced with their king's consort bowing to them, and had probably realized that themselves after an hour or so of thinking time. None of them were what you'd call politically savvy under pressure, but they were really great bodyguards, so he hoped Mobei Jun hadn't come down on them too hard.

Not to mention all the things that'd gone undone while he'd been busy staggering around the palace. Less than ten days left to the Feast of the Northern Stars—

Mobei Jun made an amused noise.

"What?" Qinghua asked, lifting his head.

Mobei Jun tapped him lightly between the eyebrows. "Always planning," he said.

"Well, someone has to! Uh, I mean, that's not to say, I didn't mean to imply that my king doesn't—"

He broke off, because Mobei Jun was giving him this look, all soft and pleased and barely glare-y at all, and Qinghua wasn't really sure what he'd done to deserve it.

"My king?"

Mobei Jun bent his head over Qinghua's neck and sniffed him, in that not-quite-human way he had sometimes that always got Qinghua, noted monsterfucker, a little hot under the collar.

"Qinghua's not scared anymore."

"Of course not?" Qinghua said, confused. What was there to be scared about? He was in bed with his husband, all snug and warm and safe, and it wasn't like Mobei Jun would actually get upset about Qinghua putting his foot in his mouth. That happened all the time, after all.

Huh. That was another thing he'd forgotten until he'd been thrown back in his old brain, wasn't it? He hadn't ever really felt safe, back then. He'd always been worried about something, even before the transmigration. First it had been money, and then survival, and the system, and how to keep his whole fragile double-agent cover from collapsing on him, and then, well, still survival, what with being surrounded by demons who wanted to kill him all the time. Also Mobei Jun. How much time had he wasted being afraid of Mobei Jun?

He snuggled a little more comfortably into Mobei Jun's chest. Cuddling Mobei Jun felt like that glorious moment when you turned your pillow over and it was all nice and cool against your face, except all the time. If your pillow could and would kill anyone who even looked at you wrong, and also spoil you rotten.

Possibly he'd stretched this metaphor a little too far. The point was, he had Mobei Jun to protect him, and people who had his back, and a castle full of traps he'd designed because Mobei Jun couldn't be everywhere. He had a job he was pretty good at, and, okay, maybe all the meditation Cucumber-bro was bullying him into all the time had done his brain some good after all.

Mobei Jun petted his back, nice and slow, occasionally scritching his claws down Qinghua's spine in the tingly way he liked.

"My husband takes good care of me," Qinghua said. He snuggled a little closer, stretching out on Mobei Jun's broad chest.

Mobei Jun wrapped an arm around his back, holding him close. "Qinghua is safe here."

Qinghua smiled. "I know."

THE END