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“Binghe, this Shizun has something important to tell you.”
It’s nighttime. The late hour and brief slivers of moonlight coming through the window make Shen Qingqiu look particularly ethereal from where he sits on the bed across from Luo Binghe. Heat emanates from where their knees touch each other.
Shen Qingqiu whispers the truth in hushed breaths, that he comes from a world where he was known as Shen Yuan, and that all Luo Binghe had been in that world was the starring character in a book he had enjoyed reading—“Enjoyed is one way to put it,” Shen Qingqiu says ruefully. His voice is laden with guilt, eyebrows furrowed as his fists clench and unclench in equal measures. He stares down at his lap instead of at Luo Binghe.
When he runs out of breath, Luo Binghe reaches over to cup his hands. Shen Qingqiu’s eyes snap up to meet his, and Luo Binghe can read the fear in them more clearly than he ever has before.
Shen Qingqiu swallows. Hoarsely, he asks, “Does Binghe have any questions? Don’t worry about hurting this one’s feelings. This master... wants to be honest with you.”
Luo Binghe’s heart warms. “A few,” he admits. “What was Shizun’s old world like?”
He sees Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders relax at the call of ‘Shizun’, and rubs his hands in comfort. In truth, Luo Binghe doesn’t mind this. It’s not what Luo Binghe had expected, sure, but he’s not an idiot. Shen Qingqiu had either done a complete personality reversal overnight all those years ago or— or he had changed in another way.
Shen Qingqiu’s voice is low as he explains a world with a different kind of cultivation — “Technology, Binghe.”— and carriages powered without horses. It’s fascinating, more than anything else.
“And it washes the clothes by itself?” Luo Binghe asks curiously. He keeps his voice gentle, so as to not frighten his already-tense husband.
Shen Qingqiu nods. “There are certain buttons to press before the machine can start, but you come back after some time and your clothes will be washed for you.”
Luo Binghe hums, taking in the information. “And Shizun? What was Shizun like?”
At that, Shen Qingqiu looks somewhat embarrassed. “This master... wasn’t so impressive, back then. I lived quietly. I didn’t have a strong aim in life, or something I was striving towards. I was perfectly happy wasting my life away.” He clears his throat, staring over Luo Binghe’s shoulder now. “Truthfully, all I enjoyed doing was reading.”
“About me,” Luo Binghe says, a little shyly.
Shen Qingqiu huffs. “About you,” he confirms.
“Did Shizun always look like this?”
“No, no. This face is— it’s Shen Qingqiu’s face. Shizun’s face wasn’t this handsome," he says, a wan smile on his face. “I had average features, the same as everyone else. I was shorter than I am now, maybe closer to Binghe’s shoulder instead of his brow. Short hair, too—Ah, short hair was more popular in that world, so it didn’t mean anything harmful. Actually, does Binghe remember the body this one was in, after... ahem, after the Water Prison?”
“En,” Luo Binghe says. “Peerless—”
“The name is irrelevant,” Shen Qingqiu says hastily. “What this one means to say is, that face looked fairly similar to my old one.”
From what Luo Binghe remembers, that face had still looked somewhat like Shen Qingqiu’s, but the features that were different about it...
Thinner brows and lips, a softer jawline...
And now that Luo Binghe knows that those features really had belonged to Shen Qingqiu once upon a time, just one who had lived in a completely different world...
“What is Binghe thinking?”
Luo Binghe tries to put the pieces together.
It’s not easy to imagine the world that Shen Qingqiu had described. It’s even more difficult to imagine Shen Qingqiu existing in such a world. From the moment that Luo Binghe had known him—this version of him—he had fit into this world as though he’d always belonged in it. Or perhaps it only spoke of the magnitude of Shen Qingqiu’s talents, to be able to adapt so easily.
“Binghe?” Shen Qingqiu’s eyelashes flutter anxiously, brushing against his cheeks with each blink.
Luo Binghe smiles and presses his lips to the back of Shen Qingqiu’s hands. “This Binghe is thinking... that Shizun is Shizun. My husband,” he says. Shen Qingqiu sighs at that, the tension in his shoulders going with it. Shen Qingqiu only looks like this relaxed with him, Luo Binghe thinks. It’s a heady thought, even after so many years, that there are bites of Shen Qingqiu that only Luo Binghe has tasted.
After a moment, he says, “Shizun, this one has one more question.”
Shen Qingqiu hums. “What is it?”
“What is a stallion protag?”
-
Luo Binghe doesn’t sleep for the rest of the night, lying on his side with his chest pressed to Shen Qingqiu’s back.
He considers everything his husband had confessed to him. Mostly, contemplating what Shen Qingqiu had to say about himself.
Appearance-wise, he knows not to take Shen Qingqiu’s descriptions of himself at face value, even with the reference image of that other body. Shen Qingqiu had always vastly underestimated his own appeal in the eyes of others. To him, what was average about himself was devastatingly lust-worthy in the eyes of lesser men. Luo Binghe should know, as one of them.
It leaves no doubt in Luo Binghe’s mind that Shen Qingqiu was a beauty in that previous life, too.
Shorter, as Shen Qingqiu had described to him, with long lashes and hooded eyes, like Peerless Cucumber’s body. The short hair is the most difficult part to conceptualize. The farthest Luo Binghe can conjure in his own mind is Shen Qingqiu’s current hair sheared off at the shoulders. Surely, Shen Qingqiu had not meant any shorter than that. Then, Luo Binghe adds a rounder nose to the image forming in his mind, softened compared to the sharp point of Shen QIngqiu’s current one. Thin, bony wrists and ankles. Supple skin.
The updated image of “Shen Yuan” in Luo Binghe’s head isn’t just a beauty, he realizes, vision going hazy, but a cute one.
The real Shen Qingqiu mumbles softly, kicking a leg out of the blanket and twisting a fist into the sheets. Hurriedly, Luo Binghe shifts his hold until he settles, adjusting the blanket until it once more covers the both of them fully.
He can think more on it later, he decides, contenting himself to watch Shen Qingqiu’s nape and the slight rise and fall of his body until the sun rises.
-
He feigns sleep when Shen Qingqiu finally does wake up.
(It hadn’t always been this way. At the start of their marriage, Luo Binghe had continued his routine from his discipleship, waking with the sunrise and preparing breakfast for Shen Qingqiu long before his husband deigned to roll out of bed himself.
Luo Binghe enjoyed being able to take care of such things for Shen Qingqiu, ensuring there was a meal made by Luo Binghe’s own hands ready for him from the moment he opened his eyes.
He had managed to do it for three weeks before Shen Qingqiu had finally had enough.
“Answer me this, Luo Binghe. Are we not together now? Shouldn’t people who live under one roof do more things together, not apart? You don’t have to serve me breakfast like this anymore. This husband would much rather the two of us wake up together! Of course, Luo Binghe can still cook for me if he likes, but at least wait for me to get up before you take care of all the household tasks. What will we do if you faint from exhaustion?!”
Luo Binghe had shifted delicately in response. Shen Qingqiu, in the midst of his scolding, had decided to sit on top of Luo Binghe to get his point across, his backside periodically rubbing against Luo Binghe’s most sensitive parts. Completely oblivious to it, Shen Qingqiu only poked Luo Binghe’s chest. “Shizun is asking you. Do you understand?”
Helpless, Luo Binghe had nodded. “I’ll wait for you starting today, Shizun. Promise.”)
Shen Qingqiu rolls over. Eyes still closed, he croaks out, “Binghe, where were you?”
It takes a moment for Luo Binghe to understand, but when he does, it takes considerable effort not to start grinning. Shen Qingqiu had been looking for him in his dreams.
Luo Binghe tempers the desire to squeeze Shen Qingqiu to his chest, knowing Shen Qingqiu enjoys the space to roll around and stretch in the mornings, and instead rubs his earlobe gently. Shen Qingqiu tilts his head into the gesture.
“What would Shizun like to eat this morning?”
Shen Qingqiu smacks his lips. “Mm, whatever... whatever Binghe wants.”
-
Without Shen Qingqiu saying it in words, Luo Binghe still knows what his greatest fear is, now that he had shared his origins: That Luo Binghe would begin to act differently, or see Shen Qingqiu as somehow changed. Luo Binghe knows this, since he had thought the same thing when he had first learned of his own demonic heritage.
Needless to say, Shen Qingqiu’s fears are patently ridiculous. As if Luo Binghe could bear to ever let him go again.
It’s curiosity that eats at him, more than anything.
Some clarity comes a few days later.
Luo Binghe is out shopping, demon mark carefully concealed underneath a powder Shen Qingqiu had procured from Qi Qingqi. (“Even though this one sees no reason for Luo Binghe to hide,” Shen Qingqiu says, huffing under his breath, “I thought it might be beneficial so we don’t get accosted every time we want to stroll.”)
Their soft pillows had gotten torn during their nightly activities. Shen Qingqiu had refused to meet his eyes as he sent him off to buy replacements.
Luo Binghe buys two porcelain pillows, just in case, though he knows outright that the chance of Shen Qingqiu rejecting those was more likely than not.
The kind of pillows Shen Qingqiu prefers are ones of his own creation. It makes sense now, with the context that he had once been living in a different world, but it makes the process of acquiring new pillows more time-consuming than it should be. He acquires the fabric first, the softest material he can find, enough to cover at least four pillows. He needs to procure feathers next. Luckily, he has leftover feathers he had remembered to bring with him, collected from an Effervescent Moon Peacock several months prior in the case of this very situation. Lastly, he has to pay nearly triple the cost to convince a seamstress to use the fabric to create a sack, filled to the brim with the feathers and sewn together tightly.
Luo Binghe would have happily taken on the task himself, and even preferred mending their clothes on his own rather than have them sent off somewhere to be repaired. But doing so ran the risk of Shen Qingqiu realizing that feather-stuffed pillows weren’t widely sold in either the Human or Demon Realm, so it's not a route worth considering.
When he arrives back home, Shen Qingqiu is sitting at the table in their bedroom, reading a novel with a furrowed brow.
“Shizun, I’ve returned.”
Shen Qingqiu glances up, expression brightening. “Binghe, you’re early.”
Luo Binghe reaches into the qiankun pouch Shen Qingqiu had shoved into his hands before he left. His fingers brush against porcelain first, and he pulls it out. “I’ve gotten what Husband has requested,” he teases, holding out the porcelain pillow to Shen Qingqiu.
Shen Qingqiu frowns. “What is that?”
Feigning innocence, Luo Binghe says, “Our pillows for tonight.”
Shen Qingqiu’s brows twitch.
Luo Binghe lets the moment last for a little longer, savoring Shen Qingqiu’s speechless expression, before setting the porcelain pillow on their mattress and pulling out the feather ones. He places those on the bed as well. “Apologies for the trick,” he says, voice tinged with humor.
Shen Qingqiu clears his throat, standing up and walking to the bed to examine the pillows himself. “Good. Those other pillows... they’re too much,” he insists, though he doesn’t clarify what ‘too much’ means.
Shen Qingqiu has always been like this, Luo Binghe thinks fondly. Finicky, like a fussy young royal.
He pauses at that.
Shen Qingqiu... as a royal.
It doesn’t sound wrong. Not when it lines up with so many of Shen Qingqiu’s other behaviors:
Shen Qingqiu prefers to act above mortal concerns, but will willingly extend a hand whether you feel as though you deserve it or not.
He didn’t care for loss of life, but there have been several instances to date where even he knew it was necessary.
His sharp mind spoke to some form of education in his past life, in general politics, if not cultivation ones. He had also known swordfighting right away, enough to guide Luo Binghe into adulthood as a skilled swordsman.
He had cared so much about Luo Binghe finding a good match with women while he was growing up—Producing heirs, Luo Binghe’s mind supplies. It would undoubtedly be a concern for someone who had once come from a palace.
Most telling of all, Shen Qingqiu’s behavior speaks of someone who had learned to hide his feelings out of necessity.
Even now, he staunchly refuses anything that brings him the slightest bit of discomfort, and only feels comfortable voicing it in front of Luo Binghe. Had anyone else been here, Shen Qingqiu would have undoubtedly suffered the porcelain in an effort to save face.
All of those things, didn’t it indicate that Shen Qingqiu had experience being in a seat of high power?
Luo Binghe watches Shen Qingqiu shove the porcelain pillow aside, and thinks: In his first life, Shizun must have been a prince.
Except...
Another thought dawns on him.
Shen Qinqqiu must have also hated it tremendously to have been so apathetic to it in his past life. He had said plainly: As Shen Yuan, there weren’t many things that he looked forward to in life. The thought of becoming king one day must have been a weight on his heart and happiness for so long, until fate had intervened and brought him here.
Fate had cursed Luo Binghe over and over again, but he thinks he can forgive it for its meddling this time around. Now, Shen Qingqiu can spend idle days with Luo Binghe, not as a prince but as the husband of the ruler of the Demon Realm, never wanting for anything more than softer pillows on his marital bed.
-
Luo Binghe learns more over the next few days.
“What kinds of things did Shizun like doing before?” Luo Binghe asks, when the two of them are lying in bed.
“Hm?”
“In Shizun’s past,” Luo Binghe clarifies. “What kinds of activities did Shizun prefer?”
Shen Qingqiu looks at him curiously. “I told you, I spent my days reading.”
Luo Binghe nods, already aware that much of Shen Qingqiu’s day must have been filled with scholarly texts on war and politics. Reading fiction books about Luo Binghe must have been a luxury for Shen Qingqiu. Only about Luo Binghe, he thinks. Shen Qingqiu had named no other fictional characters in his original explanation, after all.
“Was there anything else Shizun enjoyed doing?”
“Why do you ask?”
Luo Binghe says, “We can do it together here, if there’s something Shizun misses in particular."
Shen Qingqiu pokes the tip of Luo Binghe’s nose. “Are you worried I’m getting bored?”
Luo Binghe tilts his head up to kiss Shen Qingqiu’s finger instead. “Could Husband really be bored with me?”
“Cocky,” Shen Qingqiu chides.
“Confident,” Luo Binghe retorts.
Shen Qingqiu smiles. “I’m not bored, just so you know.” He rubs Luo Binghe’s bottom lip. “This master... It really was mostly reading. Though, I suppose I chatted with people often. Engaged in discourse. Mainly about the books, so maybe that doesn’t count...”
-
Luo Binghe tries to bring Shang Qinghua around more often. He does.
(From the same hometown, Luo Binghe remembers all of a sudden. He pauses for a moment, before he continues to wash their dishes.)
As someone capable of matching Shen Qingqiu in literary discourse, a fact that Luo Binghe had confirmed with his own eyes, he knows Shang Qinghua is the best choice, other than Luo Binghe himself. Definitely more capable than someone like Liu Qingge, at least. Additionally, he’s aware that Shen Qingqiu enjoys spending time with Shang Qinghua, and doesn’t just humor him with tea and conversation every time he darkens their doorstep.
Except, he thinks of willingly sacrificing his time with Shen Qingqiu for the sake of Shang Qinghua, and can’t bring himself to do it. Not purposefully, at least. But if he gives Shang Qinghua less responsibilities than usual for a while, he’s not responsible for what he gets up to in his free time.
-
Luo Binghe is doing Shen Qingqiu’s budget reports for Qing Jing Peak when another thought comes to him:
Luo Binghe knows what it looks like to grow up in poverty. If he had suddenly come into wealth, the first thing he would have tried to do was hoard it. He would have exclusively used his coins on essentials over lavish goods, too fearful of one day losing access to it.
Yet, Shen Qingqiu had woken up one day in a new world, one in which he was already richer than most other beings on the entire mountain, and hadn’t blinked an eye. He didn’t spend carelessly, and he seemed to enjoy haggling if they ever ended up in a night market, but he acted as though he didn’t understand the weight of money.
Just two months ago, he had come back home with new winter robes for Luo Binghe, at a price that would have made most people balk. No matter that the weather had only just started to cool down.
(“No need for thanks,” Shen Qingqiu says with a wave of his hand, “Just wearing it is enough for Shizun to be happy. Ah, but if Luo Binghe doesn’t like it, we can go together to buy a new one.”)
Not that Shen Qingqiu’s spending habits matter much to Luo Binghe.
He had been taking care of Shen Qingqiu’s finances ever since he was fifteen.
Moreover, he had promised himself since then that he would one day be wealthy enough that Shen Qingqiu could always buy whatever he wanted without worry.
There was no need for Shen Qingqiu to change his prince-like habits now, not after two lifetimes of it.
-
Shen Qingqiu’s lack of propriety while Luo Binghe was growing up also makes sense with this new knowledge. If Shen Qingqiu really was a prince, it would have been hard to deny him anything, including his need to touch. Had Luo Binghe been in that other world with Shen Qingqiu, and a recipient of Prince Shen Yuan’s affections instead of a Shizun’s, an imperial bodyguard might have dragged him along to act as Shen Yuan’s plaything until he got bored with him.
That thought derails Luo Binghe completely, until the back of a chopstick pokes his cheek.
Shen Qingqiu raises an eyebrow. “What are you thinking so hard about? The food’s gone cold,” he says, but doesn’t wait for long before going back to his own meal, scraping the sides of his bowl for the last of his rice and shoving it in his mouth. Luo Binghe reaches over and wipes a stray grain from his cheek.
“Apologies, Shizun,” Luo Binghe says, and takes a bite of his own meal. His lower half throbs, but he ignores it.
-
“Was Husband ever a teacher in the other world?”
Shen Qingqiu blinks. “What?”
“Before coming here, this Binghe was wondering... if teaching was ever one of Husband’s responsibilities growing up. Since it seemed that he knew what to do with children right away,” Luo Binghe explains.
“Ah.” Shen Qingqiu’s eyes go distant for a moment. “I suppose I learned about children through my sister.”
Luo Binghe’s jaw nearly drops. “Shizun had—”
“Long ago,” Shen Qingqiu dismisses quickly. “I learned more through practice over the years. If Luo Binghe remembers, at the start, I relied on the hall masters fairly often.”
Luo Binghe nods, though his mind stays on the topic of Shen Qingqiu with siblings. Rationally, he knew it to be true. As a prince, it wouldn’t have made sense for there not to have been a spare at the very least. Shen Qingqiu must have had many siblings to ensure there would be someone to ascend to the throne one day. Luo Binghe had known that, in the back of his mind, but the reality of siblings hadn’t sunk in until just now, with Shen Qingqiu confirming it for him.
Shen Qingqiu may not have even been the next-in-line for the throne, but somewhere in the middle.
“And it’s not too hard to teach children,” Shen Qingqiu adds. Luo Binghe turns his attention back to him. “You speak to them in a way they’ll understand without babying them, you reward their success, and help them learn from their failures. Anyone can do it.”
Luo Binghe nods. “Shizun is talented.”
Internally, he thinks that if it truly were that easy, his childhood may have been a bit easier. He doesn’t think of that Shen Qingqiu—Shen Jiu—much these days, not with his husband Shen Qingqiu consuming his mind more often than not, but he hopes that Shen Jiu somehow learns what Shen Qingqiu had done with his body. Luo Binghe hopes it hurts him.
Shen Qingqiu hits his shoulder lightly, but he’s smiling. “You... Everything I say, my husband manages to turn into a compliment.”
“It’s easy when it’s Shizun,” Luo Binghe says, and takes Shen Qingqiu’s hand to intertwine their fingers.
-
There was only one thing that Luo Binghe had yet to ask about.
“Shizun,” he says.
Shen Qingqiu looks at him through the copper mirror, brushing another strand of Luo Binghe’s hair. “Yes, Binghe?”
“This Binghe has one last question. About Shizun’s past.”
The hands in his hair still for only a moment before continuing. “It’s good to seek information,” Shen Qingqiu says. “Ask as much as you want.”
Luo Binghe wrings his hands, suddenly anxious. “This Binghe wants to say... Shizun shouldn’t feel a need to answer, if it’s hurtful or distressing. This one doesn’t need to know if it’s painful. I have no intention of hurting Shizun.”
A hand pats his head softly. Luo Binghe peers behind him, and sees Shen Qingqiu giving him a gentle look. “This master said it before, didn’t he? I want to be honest with my husband. Why don’t you ask first, and see what I say, hm?”
Luo Binghe exhales. Carefully, he asks, “This one was only wondering... Shizun said that Shen Jiu had a qi deviation here, but what happened to Shizun in the other world?”
Shen Qingqiu had only mentioned that he had woken up in Qing Jing Peak, but hadn’t stated anything more specific. He must have died in that world to come here in the first place, Luo Binghe knew. He just didn’t know how. Shen Qingqiu had given no indication of what had happened, and he had no obvious fears that could point to a reason, not of monsters and demons, nor more common ones, like drowning or heights.
And it’s not like Luo Binghe is only asking to satiate his own curiosity. If it were that, he would have been fine never bringing up the topic.
But as Shen Qingqiu’s husband, Luo Binghe wanted to share the weight of the pain.
Though, Shen Qingqiu doesn’t look upset like Luo Binghe had thought he would. Instead, he only looks vaguely embarrassed. Hiding his emotions again, Luo Binghe thinks, heart sinking.
“Husband,” he says, already regretting that he had started this conversation. “This one apologizes—”
“Ah, Binghe, it’s nothing like that. I just ate something rotten,” Shen Qingqiu admits.
Luo Binghe’s eyes widen. He can read between the lines.
Shen Qingqiu was poisoned.
Of course, it must have ended that way. He must have been a threat to the throne, no matter how little he seemed to want it, and someone wanted to take him out of the line-up for good. Luo Binghe can imagine it now, Shen Qingqiu finally having a chance to read about Luo Binghe in his free time, when a servant drops by with pastries to snack on as he reads. Shen Qingqiu, none the wiser, picks one up without looking at the servant or the pastry too closely, takes a bite, and—
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe says. He stands up, turning around to face Shen Qingqiu fully. “Who did it to you?”
He itches for Xin Mo, suddenly. If only he could find that person himself...
Shen Qingqiu frowns. “I did to myself, really. I was too distracted and didn’t notice.”
Luo Binghe’s hands clench into fists. Maybe Shen Qingqiu had trusted the person who had given him the food. It may not have been a servant; it may have been one of his siblings handing him the food directly.
No wonder Shen Qingqiu had never spoken about siblings before. Heartbroken, Luo Binghe falls to his knees and hugs him.
“This husband will never let something like that happen to you again,” Luo Binghe says fiercely, burying his head into Shen Qingqiu’s soft, exposed neck, pressing his mouth against his pulse. “Never.”
“En,” Shen Qingqiu says, rubbing Luo Binghe’s back. “I know.”
“Husband is more protected now than when he was a prince. No poison will ever touch you,” Luo Binghe says, holding Shen Qingqiu even tighter. “This Binghe will protect you forever.”
Shen Qingqiu stills. “Wait, Binghe. What are you talking—?”
“You don't have to explain,” Luo Binghe says, “This Binghe already knows.”