Chapter Text
Shen Jiu set the game piece down with no small amount of prideful spite. “That would be match,” and he leaned back triumphantly.
Unlike in the not-so-distant past, Shen Jiu said nothing more, just tapped the captured enemy piece with his elegant finger for emphasis. No gloating, cruel observations, or stinging insults. Anyone who’d known him from before his humiliation and subsequent tortuous captivity by Luo Binghe would see that even his smirk was constrained. His words were clipped and careful, even as the ornamental shackle around his neck —currently loose and unbound with any chain— reminded him to watch his manners.
It took a lot of emperor Luo Binghe’s time and effort, but his vicious Shizun had finally learned to watch his mouth.
Mostly.
But winning was only half the battle.
Luo Binghe has long since agreed to the terms of the game — they were his terms! — but might snatch victory (of a different sort) from defeat if Shen Jiu gave him any reason to withhold his prize.
Luo Binghe frowned deeply, studying the game board. His starry eyes were a little less bright while facing this sudden, undeniable defeat. Quirking his lips, he glanced toward the bed in the corner of these lavish rooms —the emperor’s private rooms where he entertained his wives each night as the mood struck and as Xin Mo required— his heart clearly set on playing a different sort of game with Shizun.
In that time, Shen Jiu held his breath.
Luo Binghe has also learned lessons over the years. Mostly he’s learned to rein in his worst impulses: to leash his heart demons and keep his promises so as to entice his captive Shizun to play with him; to engage with him instead of mentally retreating into a vegetative state with no outwardly reaction. Because learning to endure torment to the point of catatonia were the wages of consistent torture taken to extremes. Empty dolls were unsatisfying playthings, after all.
“This lord could take you anyway,” murmured Luo Binghe, though his words were more an offer then a threat. Binghe always offered to fuck Shen Jiu regardless when he lost, which wasn’t as often as Shen Jiu would like. He refused to admit it, but…Luo Binghe was an excellent strategist.
Shen Jiu scoffed. “Punishment accepted in the place of reward would defeat the point of these games,” he warned, then haughtily announced his intention to return to his rooms. This was his agreed-upon reward for good behavior because that was how far they’d come since those early years of maiming and torture— but then he hesitated.
Luo Binghe cocked his head and rejected the premise entirely; “Who said anything about punishment?”
Standing there, mere paces away from the restless beast while not worried for his limbs, Shen Jiu remembered longing for peace and quiet for the next few days. The problem was that things were coming to a head between them; a common enough occurrence.
If Shen Jiu accepted Luo Binghe’s offer to spend the night of his own free (scoff) will, the beast would be gentle with him throughout. Then, with Xin Mo sated, Binghe would likely as not leave him alone for a few days thereafter. These were the days that Shen Jiu craved; what kept him from going insane while enduring long-term captivity in what was slowly becoming a gilded cage. But if Shen Jiu refused Binghe’s offer, tomorrow will be another game. Because Binghe wanted him, and what Binghe wanted he would eventually get… and it would be much the worse for Shen Jiu if the beast was too pent up.
It was right about then that Shen Jiu realized he was actually trying to manage Luo Binghe’s moods like a wife and he was struck by sudden exhaustion. Because he was sick of the beast’s consistent attention. He was tired of spending every evening defending his own pitiful ass from being served up to the beast on a silver platter. And yet, all his hopes of disentangling himself from Luo Binghe’s desires seemed even further out of reach.
The man seemed truly insatiable, even after all these years. Doesn’t this emperor have a life, duties, and a truly ludicrous number of wives?
“Why is Luo Binghe wasting his time with this Shizun anymore?” demanded Shen Jiu, a common complaint. “Haven’t you enough wives to sake your sword’s endless lust?”
Can’t we finally be through with all of this?
They were past the point of screaming abuse. Past the point of Shen Jiu being torn apart and put back together again, of heavy hooks and underground dungeons and pickle-pots overflowing with filth. Now they were stuck at board games, wary conversation about nothing, and countless nights of filthy hate sex.
Shen Jiu was ready to move on. He’d been ready for a change for years now, more than ready to put it all behind him. His life more closely resembled that of a concubine now (the beast insisted on calling him a wife but wives could leave if they were miserable) and the longer Shen Jiu kept his limbs, lived in a room, slept in a bed, and played pointless games with the beast the more it felt like an end was possible. After all, any number of the beast’s mortal wives —after passing their blooming years— tended to retire away from him, moving out of the palace and leaving active rotation to make way for younger women. Sometimes sooner if the beast lost interest. So why couldn’t the next phase of their bizarre relationship perhaps be a long distance one…?
The thought must have been blatant enough on Shen Jiu’s haughty face, for Luo Binghe burst into sudden laughter. Because currently, the answer to that question was no.
The answer was always an unspoken but explicitly understood absolutely not, and Shen Jiu was once again left stewing in his own impotent rage. He was growing deeply concerned that his plan of slowly boring Luo Binghe to death, or failing that, losing Binghe’s interest until Shen Jiu was forgotten in a hole somewhere —where he might then start ‘digging up, stupid!’— was in serious danger of failing abysmally. Especially when the beast said ludicrous things like:
“I am with this wife tonight,” and Luo Binghe offered Shen Jiu a playful smile with fangs extended, knowing it set Shen Jiu off every. single. time.
Whatever it took for Luo Binghe to retain Shizun’s sour company for a little longer, and because Shen Jiu could never not fuck himself over if given the chance, he rose to the bait.
“This master is not your whore, or a plaything to be abused,” snarled Shen Jiu, slapping his hand down for emphasis. “I’ll leave if I want to.”
Luo Binghe’s eyes glittered to see the game board nearly topple to the floor. “Shizun forgets his place. And he must not be any of those things, or this lord would be taking him tonight regardless.”
At the same time, Shen Jiu had straightened sharply. He’d struck the game board so hard that he nearly overturned it, which wasn’t his intention. The shackle around his neck rattled for his sharp movements, a dismal reminder that nothing he’d just said was remotely true. He was, in fact, all of those things and worse, depending on the whims of Luo Binghe… but at least the incessant torture had ended.
After Luo Binghe allowed it to end, depending on Shen Jiu’s words, reactions, and responses. After Binghe had grown emotionally mature enough to realize what he actually wanted from Shen Jiu, and started blatantly allowing his captive to affect what happened between them in undeniably obvious ways.
Like training a dog…
“You are what I wish you to be,” added Luo Binghe, leaning back in his chair. “And I wish you to be a dutiful wife and remain with me tonight.” Then he reached for Shen Jiu, likely intending some mischief that would have Shen Jiu landing in his lap.
Slowly.
Telegraphing his intentions enough to be escapable.
And Shen Jiu did exactly that. He backed away defensively, eyes suddenly wary again. “This master disagrees,” he dared to say after putting a bit of distance between himself and Binghe. When no reprisal came, he crossed his arms and threw his head back and leveled a steely glare, but refrained from spitting the insult perched at the tip of his tongue. This was, once again, a demand that was actually a request.
A request that Shen Jiu could refuse so long as he remained polite, and because of this, he felt some small measure of control had been returned to him, and that meant he kept himself from going too far at the last moment. That was part of their unspoken arrangement. Whenever Shen Jiu crossed the line, Luo Binghe would do back a hundred times worse.
Potentially.
Sometimes, anyway.
Enough to still be a credible threat… but now there was a line that Shen Jiu could stand behind and be safe, which was something that had never existed between them before — until Luo Binghe had created it out of thin air after years of being held at bay by Shizun’s frustrating catatonic state.
As such, Shen Jiu not only reined himself in, he even bothered to reach out and reposition the teetering game board, which undercut his previous outburst rather badly. So did his next few words, carefully chosen; “This one thanks the emperor for the game and wishes him a good night,” and then politely gestured his intention to leave.
Toeing the line.
Luo Binghe leaned forward, still smiling. “If Shizun insists,” but his eyes were speculative, because Shizun was still standing there. “Good luck never lasts, Shizun. I will have you tomorrow, unless you want this lord tonight?”
Shen Jiu scoffed, but knew that Luo Binghe really wanted him tonight, was barely holding back from breaking his promises. It had been a little while since they’d fucked as Shen Jiu had won the last few rounds and before that Luo Binghe had been away dealing with insurgents as he often must.
Shen Jiu scoffed.
Shen Jiu rolled his eyes.
Shen Jiu stood tall and didn’t leave.
Luo Binghe cocked his head, amused. He could see the conflict behind Shen Jiu’s eyes, could read the concern that had Shizun glancing repeatedly back at the bed, weighing his options. And Binghe continued to reap the rewards of his new approach to Shizun, which had come about after a purported visit to some other reality. This would never have happened —Shizun considering to stay of his own will— even one year ago.
“Don’t you visit your wives anymore?” demanded Shen Jiu, drawing his shoulders up while scowling fiercely, but he still hadn’t left the room.
With as many exquisite wives as this filthy beast has, how can he enjoy forcing this pathetic body for these last few years? How is this man suffering from blue balls merely from the lack of taking this miserable old man to bed?
“Shizun?” prompted Luo Binghe.
Shen Jiu glowered at the floor, willing that it break open and swallow the accursed beast whole, which it stubbornly refused to do. He knew it was better to let Luo Binghe work off some steam and feed that infernal sword of his before an inevitable win after a drought left him as a rabid dog off leash. It was his own well-being he considered, as he was well aware that Xin Mo craved him —his pain, his fear, but especially his pleasure— above any other. Whatever the reason, taking him sated the sword’s perverse lusts better and for longer than any willing wife. The longer the sword went without, the hungrier it became.
Luo Binghe will hurt him worse later.
Shen Jiu frowned down at his hands. He fiddled with a sleeve, then glanced resentfully towards the bed. In this way, he ended up accepting without accepting, and Binghe got the message loud and clear when Shen Jiu swept over and sat down on the edge of the bed and glanced away, pointedly not leaving. Binghe didn’t waste time. He slipped from his chair and pounced, looking completely delighted, hauling his miserable-looking captive into his warm lap.
“I’m just bored tonight,” hissed Shen Jiu, feeling the need to defend himself, warning his captor from getting any strange ideas. “I don’t actually want this.”
Luo Binghe smirked, but otherwise let Shizun keep his face, but only for the moment. As soon as their clothing hit the floor, Shen Jiu made the mistake to look down. Regret was immediate after laying eyes on the heavenly pillar once again.
Why did I agree to this, screamed Shen Jiu internally as Luo Binghe pulled Shen Jiu tightly against him, hands and mouth a storm against his defenses, lighting unwanted fires upon his bare skin.
In the midst of being devoured whole, Shen Jiu regretted his life choices, squirming as skillful fingers breached his private places. With his body under an unusually gentle assault, Shen Jiu could only question his sanity as Luo Binghe slowly impaled him, using slick oiled fingers, the head of his pillar, and his blood parasites to force his captive to yield in this most intimate of ways.
Why do I always choose the worst possible path with this half-demon bastard?
The question was wailed internally as Luo Binghe grasped Shen Jiu tightly and began to thrust in earnest. Shen Jiu, unbalanced, found himself clutching at the beast in return.
Shen Jiu was well on his way to his first orgasm of the night when a knock at the door gave him an excuse to startle and squirm back. “Some—someone is here,” he gasped, hating how breathy his voice was.
Luo Binghe didn’t pause. “Forget them,” he murmured, then abandoned the slick reddened skin of Shen Jiu’s neck to suck and nibble at his nipples, pulling him closer as he tried to squirm away, wholly uninterested in whatever his minions might want of him. “Shizun needn’t worry about anyone but this lord,” and it was Binghe’s expectation that they would take the hint when he didn’t respond to their timid taps.
Alas, whomever was outside had an appointment on the books, because the guards actually let the interloper enter, presumably because they thought that was what their emperor wanted.
Shen Jiu saw the exact moment when Luo Binghe remembered.
“Unbelievable,” hissed Luo Binghe as his eyes flitted towards the entryway, which was still closed but not for long, and it was unclear if he meant the intrusion or his own memory. Then he clenched a squirming Shen Jiu closer to keep him from pulling away. He was just about to order the intruder to leave upon pain of death when Shen Jiu took matters into his own hands.
Grabbing a handful of Luo Binghe’s soft hair, Shen Jiu yanked Binghe’s head back and kissed him furiously, biting his lips and sucking at the blood that welled there. He wrest control from Binghe, clenching down on the heavenly pillar and impaling himself with ferocity, working the length almost feverishly. His reward was Binghe’s startled gasp and sudden, refocused interest. Then Binghe retaliated, aggressively returning the kiss, invading Shen Jiu’s mouth and claiming it while clutching Shen Jiu tighter against him. It felt like Shen Jiu had panicked, had lost control of himself, which seemed to thrill Binghe, who fell back onto the bed and matched the rhythm Shen Jiu had set, their bodies writhing in tandem.
Shen Jiu’s intentions were entirely controlled and less than honorable; Binghe had been on the verge for some time, and Shen Jiu refused to allow his suffering to go to waste. He was getting the bastard off for some much-needed peace—!
It worked.
Shen Jiu felt Luo Binghe tense against him and then surge upward in a sudden, ferocious thrust and grind, followed by a flood of wet heat between his legs. He heard Luo Binghe’s low groan, even as the guards opened the last inner door without a qualm.
“Junshang,” called a familiar voice. “This humble one has arrived at the appointed hour, please pardon the intrusion—”
The voice was familiar. Shen Jiu bristled like an angry cat as Luo Binghe whirled them, so that Shen Jiu was sequestered beneath him. Shang Qinghua slipped through the door like a greased rat, then paused, mouth falling open, eyes wide to see his emperor deep in congress.
It was the first time Shen Jiu had seen Shang Qinghua in years.
That rat bastard!
Shen Jiu used the distraction to his full advantage. He bodily flung Luo Binghe off himself with the strength he’d reclaimed after years of steady meals and gentler treatment.
Luo Binghe whirled in an artful horizontal movement, landing in a crouch with one knee sinking into the bed, with the other leg half extended, which hid nothing from startled eyes. His position left the heavenly pillar exposed, still wet and dripping at the tip.
Shen Jiu drew his outer robes to himself in the same instant, a grunt of disgust at the slick dripping down his inner thighs escaping his mouth while covering his naked body and rough scarring. Robes settling over his shoulders, Shen Jiu saw Luo Binghe reluctantly reach towards his own outer robes with a deepening frown. Their eyes met when Binghe glanced back with a hungry glint in his eyes, because once was never enough, but Shen Jiu was perfectly satisfied to escape with this distraction.
“Who dares to interrupt this lord,” hissed Luo Binghe, begrudgingly covering himself in his own private chambers, his evening with his favorite plaything cut short.
A warily amused Shen Jiu glowered at Shang Qinghua as if he wasn’t entirely pleased with the reprieve, then scowled to see the rat grow pale while realizing what sort of evening Shen Jiu was in the process of suffering.
The pity was unmistakable.
Along with a profound rage, the rat’s expression stirred a memory, from back before Shen Jiu had been a peak lord. He had once asked a powerful relic the purpose of life. Now, to be fair, Shen Jiu hadn’t wanted to ask such a useless question, but it had been required of him as a disciple at the time.
Shen Jiu had thought the stupid relic was pranking him when it answered that his universe had been written as a pornographic novel named “Proud Immortal Demon Way” by a perpetual virgin and existed for the sole purpose of getting a half heavenly demon man laid with as many women as inhumanly possible.
Then it named Shang Qinghua as the Creator.
Now, at the time, Shang Qinghua had a different name, being a disciple of his peak just like Shen Jiu. And when he had earned his position and was given his new name of Shang Qinghua, Shen Jiu had scoffed loudly at the memory of the relic’s words and considered himself thoroughly pranked.
“A kingly name, worthy of the creator himself,” Shen Jiu had responded sarcastically when prodded to explain his reaction.
The newly named Shang Qinghua had stared at him with the queerest expression on his face, before waving away the insult before the other peak lords could make something of it.
That expression was back, and now Shen Jiu recognized it for the pity it was. His stomach sank with the realisation that the rat had seen him being used by the beast like a plaything. Who wouldn’t pity the sparrow trapped beneath the cat’s paws? His mood tanked entirely, amusement replaced with loathing… and then amusement reincarnated as a curl of dark satisfaction for the hateful look Luo Binghe was leveling at the rat.
“A thousand apologies my lord,” cried Shang Qinghua, haplessly. “But my king has an urgent message for you… hence the appointment request this morning?”
Curiously, it appeared that Shang Qinghua was already in the midst of a bad night, judging from the blemish on the right side of his face, suggesting a bruise was soon to appear.
Shen Jiu straightened his robes while considering rumors he’d heard from the servant girls —whose whispers were not so quiet as they thought— regarding the sort of treatment the rat suffered under Mobei-Jun’s perverse employ.
It never failed to warm Shen Jiu’s heart to hear that Shang Qinghua took as much abuse and sucked plenty of presumably unwanted demon cock as Shen Jiu did as a captive, while the rat was supposedly a free man under demonic employ. Imagine willingly giving up the prestige, wealth, and privileges of a Peak Lord to grovel at the feet of filthy demons, serving their whims and servicing their lusts. Serves the back-stabbing traitor right!
“What could possibly be so important that it couldn’t wait until morning?” snapped Luo Binghe.
Shang Qinghua glanced nervously between them. “My king wished this message to be given in strict confidence—”
“Shizun is mine, body and soul. Now, give me the message and then leave.”
“Yes, Junshang—”
But Shen Jiu pounced on the opportunity to back-peddle from his mistakes, much to Luo Binghe’s frustration. “Of course, this master will take his leave,” and Shen Jiu slipped out the door before Luo Binghe could call him back… not that it stopped Luo Binghe from making his feelings crystal clear.
The blood parasites surged.
-o-o-o-
Shen Jiu gasped and doubled over in the hall, but didn’t stop. Too bad for Luo Binghe that he had such a high pain tolerance now. He kept hobbling down the hallway, heading towards his personal rooms, which were rather comfortable even though they were inconveniently adjacent to Luo Binghe’s.
The further away Shen Jiu fled, the worse the blood parasites hurt him.
Finally, the determined Shen Jiu collapsed outside his doorway, panting feverishly. His lack of movement must have been noted by Luo Binghe, because the blood parasites let up. They still lingered, still swarmed, still kept him weakened, but they stopped hurting him.
Shen Jiu released a breath and unclenched his jaw. His legs felt like jelly. Try as he might, he was unable to coordinate his limbs enough to remain dignified, as Binghe intended, and that meant he was staying put. Because he sure as hell wasn’t crawling back to his room.
Nor would Shen Jiu return of his own desire as Luo Binghe clearly wanted, as Binghe was trying to coax of him when the blood parasites began to sooth instead of hurt. He knew the sensation would become pleasantly distracting as soon as he started doing whatever the hell Binghe wanted of him, which in this case was to start walking back to the emperor's rooms to resume their illicit evening. Fat, fucking, chance.
There was nothing to do but wait.
-o-o-o-
Apparently, the impromptu meeting was something important, because Luo Binghe didn’t emerge from his massive, ornate rooms in an incense-sticks time, which meant Shang Qinghua was likely to be spared any humiliation at the hands of the emperor.
Finally, the door cracked open. The traitor emerged, throwing himself out the door and down the hall as if desperate to put space between himself and the emperor.
Shen Jiu had heard that Luo Binghe only tolerated Shang Qinghua to live because of his friendship with Mobei-Jun, who had openly confessed to courting the little rat. Too bad for them that demonic courtship, sex, and love were such twisted things.
No accounting for taste.
Shang Qinghua hurried past. Shen Jiu watched the rat scurry and his eyes blurred with memory.
Shen Jiu had long since put the encounter with the relic out of mind as complete insanity, except recently he’d discovered a pattern that disturbed him. Not long after being moved into the room directly adjacent to Luo Binghe’s own extravagant rooms, directly after enduring the heavenly pillar for the first time, Shen Jiu had begun suffering strange and impossible situations that specifically required rescue by Luo Binghe, swiftly followed by dual cultivation to resolve.
Kidnappings, random once-in-a-lifetime exotic poisonings, rare magical artifacts requiring specific sexual acts to escape their effects…the sorts of ridiculous happenings that routinely happened in romance novels and pornographic works. Once was fluke, twice was a concern, but all of this was happening weekly to Shen Qingqiu like clockwork ever since Luo Binghe had changed the nature of their relationship. Even now, he struggled with the concept that kept splattering itself across his face, over and over again.
It’s absurd.
Insane.
But Shen Jiu couldn’t stop thinking about it and so called out to Shang Qinghua, against his better judgement, dredging up the insanity from the past. “Proud Immortal Demon Way.” He said it conversationally, as if suggesting something. Probable deniability...
Shang Qinghua jumped and whirled, looking shocked, amazed, and a little terrified. “How?” he cried, softly as if to avoid being overheard. Not what or why, but how… as in how could you know that as if confirming the relic’s blathering.
Shen Jiu stared in sheer disbelief, so long that Shang Qinghua turned to continue his flight back to his King, only pausing when Shen Jiu cried out; “Why would you image such a ghastly fate?” and he meant for himself.
“It was just a story,” cried Shang Qinghua, turning around again. He whimpered under his breath; “How could I know that it would become real?”
Shen Jiu stumbled after him, the blood parasites surging to counter his presumed flight, and he staggered under their renewed onslaught. He coughed and fell against the wall, aware how pathetic he must look. He felt pathetic, like he’d fallen through a dark looking glass to another world entirely. “Then change the story!”
“I would if I could, but I can’t,” cried Shang Qinghua as he turned the corner. “Not even to save myself! It’s — this is out of my hands now!”
Leaning against the wall for support, Shen Jiu watched the little rat vanish around the corner, his free hand trembling at his sides. It was just a story… and those words lingered between them, sincerely uttered.
The fear, anxiety, guilt, and all things in between had been genuine. And now Shen Jiu didn’t know what to think. Was this world even real? The whole matter remained insane, and he didn’t know what to do with any of it… and… there was nothing to be done, apparently?
Shen Jiu straightened and wearily turned back towards his room. Then threw himself back as a Wuchang Gui appeared before him, inches from his face. Her hair was wiry and whipping, her dead eyes wild and teeth chittering; an apparition of impending death.
Shen Jiu stumbled back, gasping.
The apparition moaned like a banshee. Holding his shaking hands out, Shen Jiu tried to ward her off, however impossible that was. His reaction was pure instinct upon being startled so badly, because otherwise he didn’t succumb further to fight or flight. He’d seen one of these before during his time as a disciple, back when he was sent by his own Shizun to investigate a report of a missing person. He’d been searching for the body when the Wuchang Gui appeared, terrifying him then, too.
The Wuchang Gui appeared as a woman with clattering teeth, long dead. Her eyes were gray-green and her hair wet and dripping, her skin putrid, her long teeth protruding. The apparition always warned of impending wrongful death and would appear three times. The first appearance warned of impending disaster, the second appearance marked when action must be taken to change the observer’s fate, while the last appearance would mark when fate was sealed and death could no longer be avoided.
Shen Jiu had barely survived that encounter as a disciple, and only because his Shizun had intervened on his behalf. Desperately alone this time, he lurched back with a frustrated cry when the Wuchang Gui finally vanished, mere moments after appearing, leaving nothing behind but the terrible knowledge of his impending doom. A person who saw a Wuchang Gui clattering her teeth in warning could be dead within a single day if they could not change their fate.
Shen Jiu just stood there, shaking.
Was it Luo Binghe who would kill him? Honestly it could be anything or anyone. It was the course of his fate that was wrong, that needed changing. He was trying to think through what this new threat could be when Luo Binghe appeared at his back, startling him for a second time.
“Shizun can return to this lord’s chambers now,” said Luo Binghe playfully, covered only in an outer robe. He was shameless, as per usual. His robes were untied and fluttering loose, ready to be tossed aside. He wasn’t bothering to hide his interest and the heavenly pillar was still half-mast. But his eager expression faded as he took in how badly Shen Jiu was shaking, how pale he looked. “Is something wrong with Shizun?”
Shen Jiu was taken aback by the concern in Luo Binghe’s eyes, much like he would ask one of his wives… one of his delicate wives. The man had too many damned wives… “This one is retiring for the night.”
Luo Binghe snorted.
“That servant of Mobei-Jun is not authorized to end this lord’s night early,” and Luo Binghe leaned over Shen Jiu in mock earnestness, reminding Shen Jiu of his poor decisions; “Shizun wanted this lord carnally tonight.”
“This master has already had Luo Binghe carnally tonight,” snapped Shen Jiu, looking down at the mess Binghe had made of his inner thighs. His frown deepened and his eyes glazed over, already returning to the danger at hand. What about his fate needed changing?
It had to be something immediate, a looming threat. But there was only Luo Binghe menacing him.
Meanwhile, Luo Binghe smirked, his heavenly pillar already fattening at the thought of having Shizun return with him to continue their evening. “I did enjoy you, but how can I end the night without your needs fulfilled? This husband is not so selfish.”
Shen Jiu scoffed, but remained distracted. He had bigger things to worry about then Binghe’s stupid games. Normally he would fend off the beast in a situation like this, but found he couldn’t escape. Binghe wouldn’t let him, so didn’t that mean that he was the threat?
And if Shen Jiu still had allies, he might have confessed his fears for the severity of his situation, but he couldn’t trust Luo Binghe enough (or at all) to tell him what had happened. He just needed to change his fate somehow, by doing something unexpected, by changing course from his normal, immediate actions. But what that actually entailed while captive to Luo Binghe, well he had no idea.
“Come with me,” and Luo Binghe escorted Shen Jiu back to his rooms for another round or three.
-o-o-o-
These nights spent with Luo Binghe tended to be long and fraught for Shen Jiu’s backside.
Tonight was no exception.
Luo Binghe was still balls-deep when the Wuchang Gui appeared again, this time materializing over the top of Binghe himself, who was curled over the top of Shen Jiu, rocking gently into his exhausted body. Suggesting that whatever the course to be changed, it really did have something to do with his captor.
Shen Jiu suppressed a scream when that putrid face appeared inches away, clanking its teeth in dire warning. This was the second warning; he was still fated towards a wrongful death. He was going to die if he didn’t do something drastic to change his fate!
Shen Jiu knew better then to hurt Luo Binghe and possibly trigger the very doom he was trying to avoid, but he was frightened. He’d endured so much and fought so hard, he didn’t want to die like this.
I have to change my fate!
A panicking Shen Jiu jolted forward and unbalanced Luo Binghe, pushing him over, their connection pulling him after Binghe. Then he curled, falling off the heavenly pillar. Then he tried to run. But Luo Binghe, used to Shizun’s mercurial moods and sudden fits of temper, reacted too swiftly. Grasping Shen Jiu by his hips, Binghe pulled him straight back onto the heavenly pillar, thrusting deeply.
Shen Jiu whirled again, slick with sweat and desperate. By that point he was convinced this was how he was going to die — Binghe was going to rupture him inside, or something like that. Panicking, he wrestled with Luo Binghe, reacting and moving like he never did while so intimately entangled. He grabbed Binghe’s wrist and maneuvered his body and tried to curtail Binghe’s aggression, certain that he was about to be murdered —even accidentally— by Binghe’s over enthusiasm.
It was a mistake.
All Shen Jiu managed to accomplish was to provoke Luo Binghe into a sexual frenzy, which didn’t end until Binghe was empty and happily sated. Having expected death at any moment, somehow Shen Jiu managed to survive, even though he really didn’t feel like he’d done anything different? But being alive had to count for something, right?
Shen Jiu was so unnerved (and sore) that he never released his death grip on Luo Binghe’s body, even after the heavenly pillar slowly eased out of him, leaving behind a stupendous mess of pure white fluid.
Not a drop of blood to be seen…
…and for the second time that night Shen Jiu wasn’t sure what to think. His grasp on Binghe only tightened, but nothing terrible happened, beyond the mockery that his clinginess earned him with his bastard of a captor.
“Does Shizun wish to cuddle with this lord?” mocked Luo Binghe, though his tone was distinctly good-natured.
Shen Jiu reared back and scowled, confused and embarrassed, even as Luo Binghe’s smirk widened into an outright roguish grin. The offer hung between them, threatening to give Shen Jiu hives. Because there was a very good chance that Luo Binghe would actually cuddle with him tonight. He could see enough fondness in the man’s eyes.
“This master would rather die,” Shen Jiu snapped, though it wasn’t true.
Finally, Luo Binghe released Shen Jiu, even allowing him to return to his room without any further trouble.
I did it, thought Shen Jiu while fleeing down the hallway, shaken but still very much alive. I calmed him down and changed my fate.
Shen Jiu was nearly at his door when the Wuchang Gui appeared for the third and final time.
-o-o-o-
“What’s happening?” demanded a pale-faced Shen Jiu barely an hour later, standing a few paces out of his chambers in his bed clothes, having been roused from fitful pacing and intense internal debate (tell Binghe or don’t tell Binghe about the apparition because who else could possibly help and would he rather actually die than admit he needed to be rescued once again?!) by the commotion outside his door.
Such disturbances were unheard of this deep in the emperor’s Demon Realm Palace —literally a dozen feet from Luo Binghe’s personal rooms— where no enemy could reach without first facing the entire army garrisoned in the lower levels of the palace.
“Master Shen!” cried one servant, as another raced past with armfuls of provisions. “The palace is under attack!”
Shen Jiu frowned as the servant’s babbling made the situation clear. So apparently a demonic rival to the throne was making their move. Luo Binghe’s seat of power in the combined realms was actually under attack, with a demonic host arriving without warning inside the palace walls, after the palace wards were tampered with from the inside.
“So the beast has rats within his walls,” muttered Shen Jiu.
The fighting in the main halls and high walls was fierce and General Sha Hualing had ordered all the “useless ornamental wives” deeper down into the palace for protection, while every cultivator wife had grabbed her weapons to join their husband in glorious battle.
Which would be most of them.
Shen Jiu scowled when one of the palace soldiers plodded up to him and warily informed “Consort Shen” which of the two groups that he categorically fell under since he lacked cultivation, had no weapons, and was frail from decades of captivity. All thanks to the tireless efforts of the beast… and he stood his ground regardless of their low opinion of him.
“I can still fight,” and Shen Jiu demanded a sword.
Apparently, Luo Binghe had warned them about him in advance, because when Shen Jiu tried to be contrary about the whole thing, another protective soldier merely podded between his shoulder blades with the tip of his spear. “The emperor ordered us to make certain Consort Shen was secured with the rest of the mortal wives.”
“Fine,” snapped Shen Jiu.
The soldier seemed surprised that Shen Jiu agreed so readily (prompting him to wonder what orders they had been given to deal with him) but shouldn’t have been in Shen Jiu’s option, if he had half a brain. Why would a captive care about the fate of his captors? He merely wanted a weapon for obvious reasons, but even that was thwarted.
Let’s hope they kill the beast, thought Shen Jiu, without much actual hope. He swiftly threw on his outer robe for decency and then reluctantly joined the group of hapless mortal wives as they were herded down into a barricaded sub-basement room for their own protection.
How charming, and Shen Jiu grimaced as he passed through the door into what looked like a hastily cleared storage room for wine. He could see the impressions of wine barrels on the floor, which was otherwise haphazardly covered with fresh rugs, though there were no chairs. There were cobwebs in the corners and it was painfully obvious this shelter had been slapped together at the last moment.
“How can you leave us here?” cried one of Binghe’s precious flowers, wringing her beautiful hands. “This room is filthy!”
“Furen, please, be tolerant,” cajoled the escort, whereupon he was overrun with distraught flowers demanding answers. He had little to offer, nothing that Shen Jiu hadn’t already pieced together himself.
The beast’s forces knew something was happening tonight, but must not have known the extent of the plans. The enemy is bold and attacking beyond their means, stinking of desperation.
Finally, the door slammed shut. Shen Jiu watched as the heavy latch secured them from the inside. There were no guards within the room with them, though only because everyone capable of swinging a sword —which did not include him according to Luo Binghe, apparently— were mustered into direct combat with the enemy.
Thankfully none of Luo Binghe’s flowers were in the mood to bother with Shen Jiu, whom they would normally bully without hesitation or mercy. Shen Jiu knew most of them by name and loathed their company. Immediately parting from the group, he took up watch near the door with his arms crossed over his chest, sulking to be considered so worthless as to be refused even a standard non-spiritual sword. Behind him, Binghe’s delicate flowers huddled towards the back, leaving him standing alone, which suited him. He couldn’t care less what happened to them and suffered their whining and weeping as he must.
Shen Jiu was happy to see the servant girls who normally served him had also been locked away with him, for their own protection. It had taken ‘Master Shen’ some time to properly train them to his likes and dislikes, and to sway them more towards his side of things. They were quick to whisper warnings and would sneak him food when Luo Binghe was away, when captives would otherwise be forgotten.
He didn’t want to lose them.
-o-o-o-
“Ah — they have a shān yāo,” said Shen Jiu.
It all became clear then. Even heavenly demons had to tread lightly with a shān yāo; a chaos demon monster with a lethal bite and poisonous claws. Not even the blood parasites could protect him from something so virulent.
It was then that Shen Jiu knew.
This is the fate I need to change, and the realization of the sheer mundanity of the threat wiped all his fears away. This was what the Wuchang Gui was warning me of.
Shen Jiu finally understood, but it was already too late. This was often the nature of the apparition. The Wuchang Gui was a type of fierce ghost, and wasn’t warning victims with any good intentions. Fortunately for him, facing down an external threat was an entirely different matter then being fucked to death under the beast by mistake... or being slowly torn apart by the beast when their bizarre relationship finally took a different turn, for the worse this time. There was only one thing that was certain in this life according to the beast; Shen Jiu's life and his eventual protracted death belonged to Luo Binghe.
While it was true that Shen Jiu would prefer to live and not die, the sudden clarity had him reconsidering many things. Death by combat...saving these stupid wives of Binghe...changing his eventual fate...and then Shen Jiu abruptly made a decision. Turning on his heel, Shen Jiu demanded a knife or sword from the huddling women as he was certain they must be dripping with expensive hidden weapons that they didn’t know how to use. The huddled masses barely responded, but finally a shaking hand extended to offer him an ornate small sword.
Taking up the weapon, Shen Jiu noted the dullness and wobble in the metal, muttered “how utterly useless” and then handed it back with a scowl. A few more weapons appeared, but they were all glitter without substance. Finally, a functional apple knife landed in his outstretched palm.
Shen Jiu held the ornamental knife by the gem-encrusted hilt out in front of his face with a wrinkled nose, looking from face to face. The wives just sniffled harder and the boldest among them shrugged. Then he just sighed, because apparently none of these women actually had even one true weapon.
These were the tenderest of Luo Binghe’s flowers, after all.
“Let me out and then bar the door after me,” warned Shen Jiu, after rolling up his sleeves and tying back his hair. “Do not open the door for anyone, except for the emperor.”
The wives cried harder, though their tears were for themselves.
The two servant girls tried to argue, asking Master Shen to stay with them where it was safe.
“It won’t be safe here for long,” warned Shen Jiu, for otherwise the Wuchang Gui would not have appeared to him. Now it was too late… not only because the apparition had already appeared the final time, but also because the only way Shen Jiu could have changed his fate was to run away from this danger.
This is how I am going to die, and Shen Jiu repeated this to himself again and again. He was coming to terms, making peace with his fate, because regardless of what the world thought of him, fleeing screaming into the night wasn’t the sort of man he was. This is how I am going to die.
Right about then, the shān yāo roared, and it was not far away.
Shen Jiu slipped through the door and his heart settled to hear the heavy latch one last time. The sounds of weeping wives abruptly ended with the closing of the door and he welcomed the silence. He felt a little thrill of fear as his hands tightened around the handle of his little knife.
This is how I am going to die. Shen Jiu's heart was pounding in his chest. He didn’t bother to advance, but waited outside the door. Protecting the flowers inside, though he didn’t actually care about them. It was something a peak lord should do, so he stayed. It would be heroic as hell and that would piss Luo Binghe off and the thought comforted him. As he waited, his mind wandered down tangled side paths and pondered strange truths.
Changing my fate would have required doing something drastic, something I would otherwise never do. If I wanted to live, then I should have told Luo Binghe about the Wuchang Gui and asked him for help saving my life. If I had clasped my hands and cried (scoff) like a flower for fear, he would have done something to save me.
This would have been another improbable scenario, another rescue. He remembered Shang Qinghua, remembered the relic’s insane answers about their lives being written by the rat as entertainment. It felt less insane than before. He remembered all the other strange happenings and pondered this one in comparison to the previous plots against him. If his life was ordained to misery by a rat like Shang Qinghua, then perhaps normally he would be poisoned by the claws of the monster and need dual cultivation to be saved, perhaps, perhaps…
But I didn’t warn the beast.
I would rather die. This is how I am going to die.
The monster would come to Shen Jiu, regardless of how improbable it would be to reach him this deep into the palace. That was the point, he suspected. He trusted the apparition was truthful about his fate and so he waited.
In the distance, the fighting sounded intense. Setting his feet, testing his blade, he waited.
Tapping his foot, he waited some more.
Ten minutes later and his expression receded like the coastline before a tsunami.
“Well come on then!” Shen Jiu roared, his voice echoing down the empty hallways, alerting his location to anyone with ears…
…
…finally, it came.
-o-o-o-
It was a hard fight.
Shen Jiu gave as good as he got. Thanks to his knowledge as a scholarly peak lord, he knew the monster’s weak points. Alas, without his cultivation and hampered with such a poor weapon in comparison to the monster’s long fangs and claws, he was not fast enough, nor armed enough to keep from being lethally wounded.
Too slow, too messy…
In that way, Luo Binghe had been correct to try and sequester his pitiful Shizun with the rest of his mortal wives. The realization was galling, because he’d hoped to have made a better showing. He would have liked to have left a prettier corpse, or even a mostly intact one. As it was, his blood splay was everywhere; the walls, the floor… the blood parasites were subbing in for the blood that had long since left his body. But he kept fighting, kept slicing, well aware that he'd never manage to kill this monster without Binghe's blood bolstering his endurance. Nevermind, fuck the beast. This was his moment, and thanks to his persistence and surgical precision, the shān yāo finally died.
And after the shān yāo collapsed and grew still, Shen Jiu relaxed with it and the bloodied little knife slipped from his fingers. He slid to the ground a few feet from his kill, then fell on his back, resting his head to the side, watching as the last of the monster's blood drained out over the floor. The sight of their blood mingling caught his attention, his blood hissing as if being burnt by the black demonic blood as the pools overlapped. He tried to remember what property of demonic monster blood caused that reaction, but couldn't for a growing blanket of fog.
Ah, what did it matter.
Regardless, the wives behind the door were safe. They were safe and Shizun was the one to thank for it. Luo Binghe would surely be pissed. ‘If you think this means anything to me,’ he would hiss…
This is a good death, he thought, suddenly satisfied.
And then Shen Jiu laughed. The Wuchang Gui warned of a wrongful death — and what was more wrongful then a brave, heroic death for a scum villain like himself? He didn’t deserve such a respectful death such as this, not after what he’d done.
And yet…
This death was so much better than what Luo Binghe had originally promised him, which was that he should die screaming, ripped into pieces, so utterly destroyed that he would never reincarnate to darken the world ever again. Admittedly, that was before their hellish relationship had taken odd turns. And he sort of was in pieces, thanks to the shān yāo’s claws…
Never mind that.
This was a good death. Heroic, even. The servant girls and most of the wives would spread the tale of Shen Jiu, the Shizun of Luo Binghe, standing up to a devilish shān yāo with nothing but a goddamned apple knife and winning. These flowers would never forget what he’d done for them.
I win, beast!
Shen Jiu was drifting in a growing numbness and blanketing fog when one of the wives cracked the door open, just like he’d told her not to.
The little flowers took in the scene and gasped in wonder. “Consort Shen has slain the shān yāo and saved us!”
“He’s bleeding!”
“He’s dying,” cried another, wringing her hands. “Consort Shen has been poisoned!”
“We must tell Lord Luo!” cried the first wife, the inquisitive one who had cracked the door when all went silent. She knew how much Luo Binghe cared for this particular wife. “He can save Consort Shen.”
It might be true, and that worried Shen Jiu, especially considering the shitty world that Shang Qinghua had written. He could still be saved, but not if the beast didn’t arrive before Shen Jiu passed into the next life. He was so ready to be free… he was ready to move on without the beast. This was a good death. The apparition had promised him this good death...
“You owe me your lives,” snapped Shen Jiu, determined to be free. He gasped around the growing chill of his body and demanded repayment. “Let me have this glorious death.”
There was a long, pregnant silence.
Because they knew.
“We can’t not tell our lord husband now that we know,” cried another wife, and the first one nodded.
Emperor Luo Binghe would not forgive them for any obvious, intentional delays.
It would be a betrayal.
Shen Jiu knew that and sighed. “Do what you must to protect yourselves” and then grew silent. Stupid wives, why did he bother? Then his hateful thoughts collapsed and he released a held breath as he watched the young wife wring her hands, and then turn to fetch her lord husband.
At a leisurely stroll.
Take that, beast.
A good death that redeems me in the eyes of those around you. There’s no way to twist this, not with so many witnesses.
Shen Jiu was still smiling as the light in his eyes faded not long after…
…free at last.
-o-o-o-
The attack was brutal, but thankfully short.
Luo Binghe had led the defense and cast down the attackers in short order. Fluttering around Binghe, his cultivator wives had sliced through the attackers in the wake of his formidable power, adding to his prestige, so splendid in their colors. Now Xin Mo was happily drenched in the blood of his enemies, whispering its delight in the back of his mind. His sword-induced bloodlust satiated, he found himself genuinely enjoying the encounter, standing tall as his exquisite wives flirted with him playfully, reporting to him and then dashing off to confirm victory. There were rumors and sightings of a shān yāo, but it had vanished amidst the fighting.
Everything was quieting down. The defenders were emerging and cleaning their blades, regrouping. The fires were being put out, the billowing smoke adding to the colors of the dusky sky. After the last invader was confirmed killed and the bells rang the all clear, there was only the clean up left…
“Lord Luo—”
The young wife looked frightened.
A blood-flecked Luo Binghe flush in his dark power was terrifying to look at, but even worse that she had to tell him the bad news. There wasn’t a girl in his harem that hadn’t glutted on the whispers, the rumors, the stories. They all knew how much their lord husband enjoyed that specific plaything of his.
Luo Binghe smiled kindly. “What is it, sweetheart?”
“Consort Shen,” she began.
“What happened to Shizun?” asked Luo Binghe, his playful and friendly mien dropping away. Now he wanted her to answer, immediately and without preamble.
She forged ahead as she must. “Consort Shen fought the shān yāo. He only had an apple knife! He killed it and protected us, but—”
“Where is Shizun?”
“Consort Shen is dead.”
Luo Binghe froze for a heartbeat, then laughed. “He wouldn’t dare.”
Miserably, the young wife held out her bloody hands in supplication. “He saved us, but couldn’t save himself.”
“He wouldn’t dare,” repeated Luo Binghe, sounding a little less certain and a bit more afraid. Slicing a green portal into existence, Binghe left his cowering wife behind and stepped through to find the aftermath of a bloodbath moments later.
Luo Binghe’s sudden appearance in the hallway was exactly what Shen Qingqiu feared, or would have if he hadn’t managed to convince the young woman to walk instead of run.
“Shizun?”
It was too late.
Shen Jiu —Shen Qingqiu of the doomed Cangqiong Mountain Sect— was dead.
Dead…
…with a smile on his scum villain face.