Chapter Text
It was funny how quickly things could change in such a short amount of time. Not very long ago at all, he'd been so sure that his king was only waiting for him to outlive his usefulness, doing his best to push that date further and further back. Even after his bro had eloped with his protagonist son and fucked off into the sunset on their seemingly everlasting honeymoon, things had stayed so rough between Mobei-Jun and himself. Especially after the ascension ceremony.
But then his king's uncle had tried to kill him, and his king had actually come to save him. Even after saying he never wanted to see him again. He'd saved him, let him hit back (not that he'd been able to bring himself to!), asked what he wanted in order to stay. Mobei-Jun wanted him to stay. Enough that he'd promised to cook for him and pulled him in an old broken-down cart all the way to an inn to rest.
So, after all that change, all that fuss about Shang Qinghua leaving him, he wanted to know one thing.
Where the hell was his king?!
Once they'd gotten settled at the inn and the local doctor (a very nervous old man, though that could have been because of the glaring demon in the room) had seen to his leg, Mobei had insisted that he get some sleep to heal faster. Turned out, it was so he could slip away as soon as the author closed his eyes, because by the time he woke up, he was alone in the room.
"You throw a huge fit about me running off, and then you do the same thing as soon as I look away?" he blurted to the empty room. "What the hell?"
Why did his king have to be such an utter brat?!
He could hear footsteps in the hallway outside his room, so he bit his cheek to stay silent as he swung his legs out from under the blanket. If Mobei was just going to leave without warning, then why shouldn't he? It wasn't as if the demon wouldn't be able to find him again, considering the spell he'd scratched into one of his wrist guards. Not technically a tracking spell, but it did make for a beacon that he could find him with. Even if he didn't call out for him. Shang Qinghua had been a little reluctant about the idea, but maybe it could be worth it just for the way that his king's shoulders had relaxed a fraction.
And that still didn't make up for just up and leaving him there!
So, leg in agony as he slowly put weight on it, Shang Qinghua began to push himself up onto his feet. Just in time for the door to his room to slide open with a snap.
"Shang-shixiong, get back on that bed immediately."
Erk-! So familiar with that tone, he was back on the bed with the blanket drawn up even before he realized just who the voice belonged to. And, by extension, who was standing in the doorway.
Mu Qingfang stared at him flatly, that expression of mild disappointment he used whenever someone was being foolish with their health right in front of him fixed on his face. Honestly, it was an expression that he used quite often when it came to his most troublesome martial siblings, the list of which very much including one Shang Qingfang who'd needed dragging to Qian Cao Peak more than a few times amid protests that he was fine no matter what condition he was actually in.
"Mu-shidi... am I hallucinating or are you really here?" Shang Qinghua asked slowly, staring at the sect's head doctor and the master of their medical peak.
"Why you think you might be seeing things, we'll address later, after I've examined you and we've returned to the sect," Mu Qingfang said slowly. He stepped fully into the room and closed the door securely behind himself, activating a silencing ward on the door. "Along with some other points I'd like to address with you."
"This isn't about the whole demon thing, is it?" the author asked nervously. "Because Yue-shixiong cleared me of those charges when he let me rejoin the sect, though I'm still not sure if I want to be in a room alone with Liu-shidi because he probably hasn't forgiven me yet. Which is unfair because I know he'd never hold it against Shen-shixiong who has an absolutely unfair amount of luck."
Mu Qingfang waited until he took a moment to breathe before speaking up to answer him. "It would seem that demons are, once again, involved, but no. It's not about the 'demon thing,'" he said dryly. "It's about the fact that I've heard one of my martial brothers had managed to get himself injured yet again."
Right, that made sense. Injury, doctor. And it wouldn't be the first time Mu Qingfang had made a house-call to come see him. Only, it was usually when he was actually on the mountain. "That's very nice of you, Mu-shidi, but I've already had a doctor look at it."
It was pretty clear from Mu Qingfang’s face what he thought about the skills of some local village doctor as he leveled a stare at Shang Qinghua before using a hand to push him back down onto the bed. “Roll your pant leg up.” He raised an eyebrow when the author went to the cleaner of his pant legs. “The injured one, Shixiong.”
“Ah, right,” Shang Qinghua said, sheepish at his not all that clever ruse being so quickly called out. “It’s really nothing all that serious. It’s been all patched up already, and I’ll be healed up in no time!”
Mu Qingfang hummed noncommittally as he knelt down and grabbed hold of the other man’s leg carefully, removing the bandages so he could get a better look at the wound. It didn’t look all that bad, the area around it pale instead of red with infection. The area around the other side of the leg wasn’t quite as pretty, but exit wounds never were. “And what caused this?”
“Um, an ice bullet?” Shang Qinghua said, trying not to squirm.
The doctor’s eyes sharpened in response, looking up at him. “Your demon?”
Shang Qinghua frantically waved his hands in denial. “No, no, no! It wasn’t my king! It was his uncle. I kind of pissed him off a bit ago and he came hunting after me. My king saved me! He even brought me here!”
Mu Qingfang eyeballed him for a while longer, trying to figure out if the nervous man was trying to cover up for the ice demon he’d been sneaking into the sect for decades before deciding that it would be a matter settled later. Right now, he had a patient to take care of.
“The doctor who did these bandages did an acceptable job, for what he’s capable of,” he said at last, covering the wound with fresh bandages. “But for proper care, I want to take you back to Qian Cao. Anything you need to settle can be taken care of later.” Mu Qingfang looked around the room. “Where is your sword?”
“Ah… about that.” Shang Qinghua rubbed the back of his neck after letting down his pant leg again. “I’m not actually entirely sure. I kind of lost it when I was…” Running for his life because he was so sure that Mobei-Jun would be coming after him to kill him. “Traveling. Yep, when I was traveling. Before Mobei-Jun’s uncle found me too, which was super inconvenient. It would have been a lot easier to get away from him if I’d been able to just fly away.”
The sigh that Mu Qingfang let out may not have been words, but it was just as easy to tell that it translated to something like ‘I don’t get paid enough.’ “I’m sure it can be tracked down later as well. And I suppose you wouldn’t be able to fly right now anyway, so it’s good that I sent for a carriage to take you back up the mountain.”
“A- oh no, I can make it up there myself, really!” he insisted. Well, tried to insist. Because he hadn’t even decided for sure that he wanted to go back. Going back would mean going back to work, being easy to find, and facing all the disappointed stares of his fellow peak lords, Yue Qingyuan’s pardon or no pardon. “You said the doc did a good enough job, right? I’ll just hang around here until it heals up.”
“I said an adequate job for his abilities,” the doctor corrected. “He was clearly no cultivator, and if you just allow your leg to heal naturally, you could come up against complications. You are coming with me or I will sedate you and you will come along regardless. Do I need to do so?”
Shang Qinghua sighed. So cruel to your dear father. Mu-shidi, you are at risk of losing your position as favorite child! And considering the number of times he’d seen him do exactly that to Liu Qingge, he didn’t have much doubt that he would carry out his threat either. “No, Mu-shidi.”
Mu Qingfang nodded in satisfaction. “Good. Stay in bed until my assistants arrive with the carriage. I’ll get you some water to sip in the meantime. Unfortunately, I was sent without enough warning to prepare for tea.”
“Sent?” the author asked, blinking. That brought up a big question, actually. How had Mu Qingfang known he was there, or that he could be in need of a doctor? He certainly hadn’t sent any messages. Maybe the village doctor had, if he thought he couldn’t do enough? Not that Shang Qinghua was particularly dressed as one of the sect members at the moment…
“The Sect Leader told me where to find you,” Mu Qingfang said with a nod, pressing a cup of water into his hand. “I’m certain he’ll have more things to talk to you about when we return.”
Shang Qinghua shrank inwardly at the idea, sure that he had plenty to be told off for. Even if he was invited back into the sect, that didn’t mean he was going to be trusted, or be particularly welcome. They probably just wanted to make sure that the paperwork could still get done, and Liu-shidi sure wasn’t going to do it! His bro was still off honeymooning, so there was another dead end, no matter how hard Ming Fan tried to keep things going in his absence. (His once canon fodder bully character had grown up so much, it made him proud.) But Yue Qingyuan had also grown, really filling out that big brother and powerful sect leader role he’d been created for.
“Sure you can’t say I was already gone by the time you got here?” he asked with a grimace, sipping the water as he hid himself behind the cup. “I could give you the list of locations where we get all those special herbs you like to keep in stock. You know, the ones you’ve tried to follow my disciples to discover?”
“Tempting, but no,” Mu Qingfang said, shaking his head. “You’ll just have to keep sending your disciples out to harvest them for me. After you return to your duties in the sect.”
“You are a cruel, cruel man.” Handing the cup back, he laid back on the bed, allowing the other cultivator to guide his legs up into a proper position as well.
“Yes, forcing my martial family to take care of themselves instead of letting them work and hack themselves to death. Cruelty of the worst degree,” the other man agreed dryly. He held out a hand, waiting until Shang Qinghua gave him his with another sigh so he could start feeding him a trickle of qi to help speed up the healing process. More would need to wait until he was satisfied with the state of the wound.
“See, he admits it.”
“Rest, Shixiong. I will wake you when it’s time to transport you to the carriage.”
Shang Qinghua threw an arm over his eyes, hiding from the light as much as the unpleasant consequences that were surely headed his way. He did have to wonder, however.
How had Yue Qingyuan found out that he was there?
-
If Shang Qinghua had one thing to say about the disciples of Qian Cao peak, it was that they had all the professionalism of modern doctors and infinitely more style. Mu Qingfang directed them to carry him out of the inn on a stretcher to the waiting carriage. Cucumber might complain about them using carriages so much when there were flying swords, but there were plenty of times when carts and carriages made so much more sense! Like transporting inventory and injured peak lords! Plus it allowed for steamy little scenes while people traveled without having to stop and get an inn every time. Too many inns made things boring! And he could only write about the difficulty of sex while flying on a sword so many times before people caught on that he was just copying the same scene again.
On the way out, he finally got a look at the village his king had brought him to, trying to place why it looked so familiar. It’d been dark when they’d gotten there the night before, so he couldn’t really see. It was only when he spotted the one particular restaurant beside the inn that he put it together. It was the same village that he'd brought Mobei to when they'd first met.
As if he needed more flutters in his stomach to add to the worry.
"Lift him in gently," Mu Qingfang said, seeing the way that Shang Qinghua tried to hide his grimace as he was moved from the stretcher into the carriage.
"Shidi, you really don't have to do all this," the author tried to protest, no matter that the rest of his protests so far had been pretty well ignored or dismissed.
The doctor gave him a flat look and Shang Qinghua shut up again, letting himself be settled inside the carriage with a blanket wrapped around him before Mu Qingfang climbed in to join him. The disciples stayed outside, taking control of the carriage as it started into motion.
If it were anyone else, Shang Qinghua would have had to seriously worry that they might be planning to take him up to a cliff and kick him out and over the edge. But he liked to think that he and Mu-shidi were at least kind of friends? They certainly had more in common in workload than a lot of their martial siblings, overworked, under-rested, and essential to the survival of the sect on a day-to-day basis. Shang Qinghua was just fortunate that the doctor couldn't hold his drink nearly as much as he could, or he was sure that the man would have discovered all his secrets so much earlier. And he might not have invented such an effective hangover cure.
Still, tentative friendship or no, Shang Qinghua spent the entire trip fretting, his fingers clenched in the blanket as he tried not to stare at the doctor as he read through a book he'd pulled from his sleeves.
"Is there something on your mind, Shixiong?" Mu Qingfang asked after a while. They were already heading uphill, the flashes of scenery visible out the window familiar as the path up to Cang Qiong Mountain. They were already almost there.
"Ah, don't worry, don't worry, I'm only dreading the paperwork that must be waiting for me back on the peak," Shang Qinghua said quickly. "It's been a while since I've been back home after all. And while I'm sure my disciples did their best while I was gone, there's just some things that you need a peak lord to do, right?"
Mu Qingfang looked doubtful as he studied him. "You will need time to rest once we return, Shixiong. Aside from your leg, I can tell how much you've depleted your energy."
"Sure, sure. I can do the paperwork at home just as well as at my office."
The other man sighed. "That is not what I meant."
"Sitting and writing isn't strenuous," the author argued with a put-upon cheer. "I promise to have the kids do all the running around."
Shaking his head at his stubborn colleague and his use of odd slang, Mu Qingfang lifted up his book again. "As you say."
Clearly, he would need to have some words with the aforementioned disciples about making sure they intercepted some of their shizun's paperwork. He took too much of it upon himself in the best of circumstances as it was.
The carriage continued on through the front gates, their jade charms letting them through the wards without fuss as they continued on towards Qian Cao Peak, finally stopping on the road closest to the sect hospital. Mu Qingfang kept a close eye on Shang Qinghua as he was transferred back onto the stretcher and carried inside. If he was going to try and run, it would be then. Thankfully, their logistics master decided to be a good patient, for now, and just pouted as he was carried inside into a care room, the door shut for privacy.
A closer examination showed the tell-tale signs of frostbite along the 'bullet' wound, as Shang Qinghua had called the weapon used. Nothing too severe, but nevertheless added to his notes. The bruising on his other leg was concerning, but the cause obviously hadn't broken any bones. The same 'uncle' as before?
(Having seen Shang Qinghua more than a few times over the years, he had questions he wanted to ask if he got the chance to pin the ice demon king in a room to demand answers. Questions that lent doubts at the moment.)
"Other than the physical wounds, which will take time to heal, you're very qi depleted, as I noted to you on the way here," Mu Qingfang said as he finished up his examination, the hole in Shang Qinghua's leg now packed with medicinal herbs to encourage the regrowth of tissue and prevent infection. He pressed a little box of tea into his troublesome shixiong's hands. "Brew this as a tea, three times a day until your levels are back to normal. I will come to check on you tomorrow to make sure you're following instructions."
"Mu-shidi, you really don't have to babysit me," Shang Qingfang complained, sulking. Even dry and unbrewed, he could smell the tea in his hands and ugh. How long would it take to get that smell out of his house?
The doctor gave him another one of his infamous looks. Press F to doubt, seriously. "Expect me in the afternoon. I'll bring another box of your calming tea then as well. It seems the last batch got some moisture in it, so my disciples are in the process of making more. You need to lower your stress."
He opened his mouth, raising a finger to argue before pausing and lowering it. "Yeah, okay, you've got me on that one. Just know that my place was a bit of a mess when I left, so don't expect a nice reception room when you visit. My disciples aren't allowed in when I'm not there."
"Neither, it seems, are fellow peak lords."
Shang Qinghua jumped at the new voice, quickly scrambling to pull his pant legs back down to cover his legs.
Mu Qingfang bowed as their sect leader stepped into the room. "Yue-Zhangmen. Are you here to welcome back Shang-shixiong?"
"I thought I would escort him home safely, in case there are any persons who still harbor unkind feelings," Yue Qingyuan said, his ultimate big brother smile pasted neatly on his face. The one that said he was asking, but if you didn't agree he wouldn't be asking anymore. "Assuming he is ready to leave your immediate care, that is."
"He should be, yes. But he mustn't be made to walk all the way to An Ding," Mu Qingfang said with a nod as he set aside the last of his supplies to be put away.
"It's not that big of a deal," Shang Qinghua muttered, looking down away from that look. He may have made the man, but feeling like he'd disappointed Yue Qingyuan always made him feel a bit like shit. Even if he wasn't being called on anything at the moment.
"It's no trouble. You've been away from home for some time," Yue Qingyuan said, offering a hand to help the author up off of the examination table, visually noting the way that Shang Qinghua kept his weight off of one leg. "There are some things I would like to ask you about. May as well combine the tasks. And, as our Mu-shidi pointed out, you shouldn't be made to walk. I can fly us there."
Defeated, Shang Qinghua sighed and accepted the strong arm around his waist, even if it made his ears burn. Their sect leader was no Mobei-Jun, but he was still a handsome man, okay! And it was embarrassing to need someone to help him stand. Still, better than being thrown over his shoulder like a certain demon had tried to do not long ago.
"I'm glad to see you safely back home," the taller man said as he brought Shang Qinghua outside again, tidily pretending not to notice the stray sets of eyes watching them from other rooms as they passed. Outside, he drew his secondary sword, stepping up onto it while still holding onto the author. "Balance on your good leg. I will make sure you don't fall."
"Thanking you, sect leader," Shang Qinghua said softly. He waited until he was up in the air to risk asking. "What did you want to talk to me about?"
"It can wait until we arrive," Yue Qingyuan said. "Perhaps over tea. I would also like to take a look at the wards you have on your leisure house at some point. They're quite impressive. Though I can perhaps understand why you felt they were needed, considering."
"Yue-Zhangmen..."
"We're almost there," the sect leader said, once again firmly putting explanations off until they were no longer in flight.
Then again, that could have been in part because the moment they flew near An Ding, the disciples took notice. And far from being angry at their shizun, it made his heart warm to see the way they waved, the younger ones dropping their current tasks to follow along with the pair flying in on the sword. Aw, his ducklings had missed him.
The moment they touched down in front of the leisure house, the children swarmed, one of them grabbing onto his sleeves even, with cries of "We thought you'd been killed!" and "Don't you leave again!" plus "You missed the annual inventory!" Aw, all the important things.
"Excuse me," Yue Qingyuan said with a cough, catching their attention immediately. No few looked sheepish in front of the sect leader. "This master understands that you have missed your beloved teacher, but your Shang-shizun and I have things to discuss."
They parted like a blue and yellow sea, making a path to Shang Qinghua's door and allowing the sect leader to help him up to the porch where he pressed a hand to the spot where he knew the door wards were carved into the wood on the other side. As the spell relaxed, they were able to open the door and step inside, closing the disciples out.
As expected, it was an absolute mess of scrolls and paperwork. Just like he'd left it. Though the dust was new. Hm, he should have one of the disciples come in and clean that up if he was supposed to just be sitting and relaxing.
"Sorry about the mess," Shang Qinghua said as he was lowered down into his usual seat at the desk. "I was kind of in the middle of things when I left."
"Hm." Yue Qingyuan didn't respond, looking around for a kettle.
Shang Qinghua mentally braced himself for it. While their sect leader had many talents, tea making was not one of them. Meaning he was never so grateful as when there was a polite knock on the door before it opened and his head disciple stood there with a tray.
"Pardon the intrusion, Shizun," the teenager said, bowing as best as he could with his hands full. "But I brought tea for you and the sect leader. Since what you have has likely gone stale while you were away."
Oh, good son. Almost as favorited as Mu-shidi. Save him from bad tea!
“Thank you, that was very thoughtful, Shi Wuyou,” Shang Qinghua said with a bright smile. “Let your shidi and shimei know that I’ve returned, will you? I’m sure they have reports for me.”
“That they can deliver after tomorrow,” Yue Qingyuan said with gentle firmness, dismissing the disciple without saying it, taking a seat in the larger of the two chairs in the room. Mobei’s favored chair, actually. Shang Qinghua had lost one to the demon’s heavier weight rather quickly. Purchasing a sturdier, larger one that just so happened to look a bit nicer had been a defense mechanism. Once they were alone, the sect leader picked up the cup that had been poured for him, taking a moment to appreciate it before taking a sip and looking at him over the cup. “I understand you ran afoul of some demon politics recently.”
Shang Qinghua jumped, staring at the other man with wide eyes. “How did you know-”
“Your Mobei-Jun sent a message early this morning asking to speak with me. He was quite insistent that we send you proper medical care,” the sect leader said calmly.
“My king did...?” Shang Qinghua said, his voice suddenly going very quiet. Mobei had asked to see the sect leader? For him?
“He was quite civil, from what I understand of his usual behavior,” Yue Qingyuan said, giving him a nod. “I am not certain if he fully trusts your pardon from the sect, for he seemed ready to offer payment for services rendered. Clearly, he values you.”
Did he suddenly have a fever? Because Qinghua’s face suddenly felt very warm. And his seat was obviously itchy, with the way that he felt the need to squirm in it as he could see the demanding (desperate) way his king had demanded to know what would make him stay.
“Ah, I suppose? I mean, I’ve been handling a lot of the Northern Palace finances the last few years, so things would probably be a mess for a while if I suddenly kicked the bucket, plus the local treaties and trade deals I’ve been working on,” he blurted out, trying to push that memory from his mind. He wasn’t in any shape to deal with it at the moment. “He probably overestimated the extent of my injuries just to get you to act faster. Northern demons are good at recognizing strength, and they all know you defeated Tianlang-Jun so he’s gotta be polite, right?”
The sect leader examined him. “Is that all it is, shidi?”
“Of course! What else could it be?” Shang Qinghua asked, rushing on ahead. “It’s not like we’re really friends. I’m honestly just lucky that he found me valuable enough to keep alive until he got used to me being around. He can be a little possessive of people he considers his, that’s all.”
“I would hope that he properly values our dear martial brother considering he’s taken up a fair amount of your time over the years,” Yue Qingyuan said pointedly. What he was pointing at, Shang Qinghua wasn’t quite sure. Because ‘dear martial brother?’ Ha! Half of their sect siblings barely tolerated him coming around to chase after reports and budget plans, much less actually willingly spending time with him. Then again, maybe Yue Qingyuan just meant it in the way that Mobei was using sect resources without sect leader permission. Yes, that had to be it.
“He’s actually helped me on sect missions on more than one occasion,” he said with a forced laugh. “I don’t think I’d have survived to become peak lord if he hadn’t sent demons to wipe out some of the monsters and bandits that we’ve run into.”
Yue Qingyuan raised an eyebrow. “So he’s protected you?”
“More than a few times,” Shang Qinghua said, happy to praise his king to the sect leader now that he could actually do it without worrying about revealing himself as a spy. “Even when Lord Luo came to fight him fresh out of the Abyss. Of course, protecting me was grabbing me by the scruff of my neck and throwing me out of the throne room, but it still meant that Binghe couldn’t just kill me right away for associating with the demon who broke his seal, ha ha.”
“I wasn’t aware that the demon emperor had any such plans on your life,” Yue Qingyuan said, his voice dipping lower. Dangerously low.
“He never said anything like that either! It was just a big worry of mine, you know? And like I said, my king is possessive! He didn’t like the idea of anyone else beating me up, especially not this upstart who’d been living entirely as a human until just a few years before and was barely an adult.” And the fact that said upstart had managed to defeat him rather readily in combat must have stung, with the way that Mobei had banished him back to the human realm so quickly after the fight.
The sect leader’s eyes narrowed further. “He beats you?”
“Not anymore?” Shang Qinghua squeaked helpfully, realizing that admitting such a thing probably wasn’t going to win Mobei points of favor. Or him, for that matter, letting himself be smacked around by a demon. “He promised! We had a big fight about it and he said he wouldn’t anymore. So don’t even worry about it!”
“Shang-shidi…”
“You know what, I think this tea could be improved with something a little stronger,” Shang Qinghua said in quick deflection, twisting around in his seat (and only wincing a little for his efforts) to grab a bottle of wine he kept nearby for some of those more headachy days. The outside was dusty, sure, but that didn’t mean that the wine inside wouldn’t be good. He poured a healthy dose into his half-finished tea, going to give some to the sect leader until the other man covered his cup with a hand. More for him then. “It obviously wasn’t so bad, or you’d have noticed a long time ago, right?”
Knocking back his spiked tea, he missed the brief expression of guilt washing over the sect leader’s face before it could be covered up.
“I’ll take our weird not-partnership over whatever weird thing Binghe and Shen-shixiong have going on,” he said with a huff, refilling his teacup, and not with tea. “It’s been hard work, but it’s not without its perks either. Where do you think Mu-shidi got half the herbs in his apothecary? I’m certainly not sending disciples to trade for them in the borderlands.”
“You’ve traded for them in the demon realm while serving the Northern king?” Yue Qingyuan suggested, studying him.
“Demons aren’t so good at creating talismans,” Shang Qinghua said with a nod. “Simple ones like stasis charms for food, basic wards to keep pest types out of your village, nothing too powerful. Though sometimes my king just gives me the things I’m trying to trade for. Has bruised a few merchant egos, let me tell you.”
“I imagine so.”
“Reward for services rendered, I guess, because I sure don’t get paid money for the work I put in for it. And I’d know if I was supposed to, because I’m the one doing up the budget.”
“Hm, perhaps we ought to speak to him about that,” Yue Qingyuan said thoughtfully. “A good steward should be compensated for his time.”
“Right? But how do you go up to a king and demand money after you’ve been working for him since you were both teens?” he asked, going to take another sip of ‘tea’ only to find the cup empty again. Rude. “Just seems to turn the whole situation more awkward than it needs to be.”
“That does remind me to ask, how is it that you came into his service so early? Were you being sent on missions into the borderlands as an outer disciple?” Yue Qingyuan asked mildly, as though asking how a couple had met in casual conversation.
“An Ding wouldn’t have any outer disciples left if we’d been doing that! Either they’d have all packed up and left or been eaten on the way. We… well, we ran into each other on the road. I did a favor for my king, and in return he didn’t kill me.” If saving someone’s life could be considered a favor. If it was, it wasn’t one that he wanted to chance the sect leader being able to throw into Mobei’s face later. It was probably a super embarrassing memory for his king. “And I guess I could have killed him too, but you know? He was just too damn pretty.”
Whoops, had he said that out loud? Forgetting that immediately, thanks. Qinghua filled up his cup again and swallowed half of it in one go.
Something settled in Yue Qingyuan’s expression as he watched his shidi drown his embarrassment in wine. So that was how it was. So it was two now, with a potential one or two more among the disciples. Demons could truly be dangerous.
“Mobei-Jun’s face is… pleasant to look upon,” the sect leader agreed diplomatically. Objectively, it was true. Thinking on the cool expressions and pale features, he could consider them attractive. If he were to consider a demon in that way.
And he was night and day away from a certain former disciple, which perhaps earned him points in a deep, secret place in his mind. Along with a similarity to one other face he held dear.
“Has he had you doing more than accounting and contract writing?” Yue Qingyuan asked curiously, allowing his mind to wander away from wistful thoughts that couldn’t be.
“Well, I suppose I watch over a few other things. The demons working in the palace really had to be whipped into shape. Sleeping in corners on the job, nibbling on their smaller coworkers, and half of them couldn’t even read! The courtiers can of course, but the cooks? The housekeeping staff? How can you manage a palace when your employees can’t read your instructions? And don’t get me started how many bad marriage plots I’ve had to deal with for my king. Marriage contracts tucked in between trade agreements like he was going to put his name to them without anyone even looking.”
And if you think the amount of aphrodisiac plants in the human realm is bad, it barely compares to what grows in the demon realm. Thankfully most of them can’t stand the climate in the Northern Desert, but people keep sending them! I am not going to let my king get trapped into a fuck or die situation with some random minor lord’s daughter, or another’s widowed dowager, so they can come and demand to be taken as a consort for taking their ‘honor.’ Ha!”
Shang Qinghua covered a yawn as exhaustion seemed to take him over all at once as he finished off another glass. No, it would be rude to kick out the sect leader just so he could take a nap.
Thankfully, Yue Qingyuan said and took care of the matter for him, setting down his cup and rising to his feet. “Ah, I should allow my shidi to rest. This conversation has been most informative.” He moved around the table to help the other man up without asking, half carrying him into the attached bedroom. Shang Qinghua was asleep before they’d finished taking off his boots and outermost robe. He might have left it on his shidi for modesty, if it weren’t for the travel grime and blood still staining it. The pants, he would allow the other peak lord to handle on his own.
The sect leader pulled a blanket over his drunken martial brother before heading for the door, only pausing to look back at him. Resting peacefully in what he understood to be a rarity for the nervous man. Clearly, he had some things to consider, and some tentative plans to draft. Without Mobei-Jun’s date and time of birth, a day couldn’t be chosen yet, but… he had a feeling that would come.