Chapter Text
When Shen Qingqiu comes to awareness, he’s in a different bed, in a different room, and someone is kissing his neck.
He relaxes into it before he can fully register what’s happening. Waking into a dreamscape with his husband’s body wrapped around him is a normal, expected occurrence. His one vague emotion as he slides deeper into the dream is that he really missed this—Luo Binghe’s big, sloppy kisses, the tight grip of his fingers, the mad thumping of his heartbeat against his own chest.
And then, with a jolt, he remembers where Luo Binghe is supposed to be.
Shen Qingqiu takes Luo Binghe’s face in both hands and gently pries him away. Luo Binghe is beaming, eyes all crinkly and shining with affection and vigor. It makes Shen Qingqiu’s heart go soft despite himself.
“Shizun,” he says breathlessly before Shen Qingqiu can get a word in. “This disciple missed you so much, I had to visit in your dreams!”
Technically, this is against the rules of the clan Luo Binghe is staying with. Something about wanting to regulate magic use within their territory? Shen Qingqiu doesn’t remember—all he knows is that until now, he was certain he wouldn’t be able to see Luo Binghe until after he was properly back. So this is a… development. A good one! But not one he was quite prepared for.
Shen Qingqiu frowns, channeling his concerned energy into a more petty complaint before broaching the other subject on his mind.
“Binghe—you didn’t disobey your hosts’ rules, did you?”
“Disobey?” says Luo Binghe innocently. “If their rules regarding dreams are vague and insubstantial, how could I disobey them?”
“Well. Don’t prioritize this master to the detriment of others.”
He grins. “If I didn’t prioritize Shizun, that would be a detriment to me!” And he swoops down for a kiss.
But despite his passion, Shen Qingqiu can’t get into it. If only things could be as they were before, and he could make out with his husband with no other bothersome feelings nibbling at his subconscious. What if he just avoided mentioning the Zhuzhi-lang thing at all, ever? After all, it’s not like Zhuzhi-lang will be living with them after he’s married to Shen Qingqiu, so Shen Qingqiu could just… “forget” to tell Luo Binghe about it now, and then remember not to bring up the subject again! But then Luo Binghe would ask questions about all the beasts they caught, and Shen Qingqiu doesn’t want to lie to his husband any more than he already has, and… agh, it’s really just a better idea to get it over with and tell him the whole thing right away.
Luo Binghe pulls away, keen eyes finding Shen Qingqiu’s. “Something is troubling Shizun.”
Shen Qingqiu wets his lips. (He almost expects to taste blood there. And then tries not to think about that.) “Binghe is aware that there are certain… curses in this world that, ah, require dual cultivation to fix.”
Of course he’s aware. They both know what happened with Xin Mo. And a few much lighter versions of fuck-or-die wife plots have cropped up in their path since then, but… it’s always just been Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe affected. No one else has found themself caught between them.
“Does Shizun need to dual cultivate?” asks Luo Binghe immediately, hands scrambling for the tie of his belt.
“No! No, not right now.” He pauses, gathering the words in his head before he speaks them. “It’s not me, and it’s not you. It’s your cousin, Zhuzhi-lang. He’s been resurrected. Unfortunately, in order to stay alive, he needs…”
“He can go to someone else,” says Luo Binghe. His voice is sharp with a tinge of jealousy. “He doesn’t need to trouble Shizun with that.”
“Due to the nature of the curse, it has to be me.”
Luo Binghe sits up, his bud of jealousy blooming into a full blossom before Shen Qingqiu’s eyes. “Shizun should not be forced to sleep with someone he doesn’t love. Zhuzhi-lang died. Let him stay dead. Nature has run its course for him.”
Ah, Binghe, no!!! This is exactly the outcome Shen Qingqiu feared. He takes both Luo Binghe’s hands in his own, schooling his voice to remain calm. “Binghe! Is that a fair thing for you to say when you’ve tried your hardest to work against the nature of death?”
Luo Binghe blanches, eyes glistening. He leans in a little closer to Shen Qingqiu, face the picture of earnestness. “That was different!”
“Not so different. Listen to me—there’s another way to save Zhuzhi-lang.”
“What is it?”
“The ritual that brought him back is called a Sepulcral Marriage,” says Shen Qingqiu slowly, “and for Zhuzhi-lang to live, we must complete it. The only other way to do that is for me to marry him.”
Silence falls over the bedroom.
“Shizun is already married,” whispers Luo Binghe. The knots in his forehead have tightened; his eyes search Shen Qingqiu’s face for any sliver of falsehood, any way out of this.
“It would be a Snake Demon marriage. It’s not what we did!”
“But it’s a marriage! You want to marry him?”
“No—yes! To save his life, Binghe! That’s all it is.”
“But if marriage can happen for reasons like that, then anyone can get married!” cries Luo Binghe. He grasps pleadingly at the front of Shen Qingqiu’s robes. “It makes it—not special anymore.”
Don’t think about it that way; that’s terrible logic!! And don’t make that face either! It’s not like your shizun is abandoning you for Zhuzhi-lang! Aah, if Binghe cries, it’s all over for everyone.
Shen Qingqiu heaves a sigh. “Binghe. You know that marriages happen for all sorts of reasons. There are political marriages. Why can’t there be marriages of life and death?”
Luo Binghe sniffs, scrunching Shen Qingqiu’s robe tighter in his hands. “Because I don’t want my husband to marry someone he doesn’t love, either. That’s worse than dual cultivation. Sex is one time, but marriage is forever.”
He looks so solemn that for a moment Shen Qingqiu almost believes him. Then he shakes his head, smiling despite himself. “Binghe, it’s just a ceremony, not a commitment. We won’t even live together afterwards. We’ll get married, and then we’ll go our separate ways, and the only change in our lives will be that Zhuzhi-lang is alive.”
Luo Binghe doesn’t look consoled. In a small voice, he says, “Is it not a commitment with me, either?”
Oh. Oh no.
Shen Qingqiu’s fear must show in his face, because Luo Binghe presses his lips together, eyes narrowed.
“Does marriage mean something different to you than I thought it did?” he demands. His voice is watery. “Isn’t it a guarantee that you—that we won’t separate? That you won’t leave?”
There’s only one way out of this. Shen Qingqiu takes a deep breath, and looks at his husband.
“Marriage can be whatever two people want it to be. Binghe, I’m not committed to you because I’m married to you. Nothing so flimsy as a single ceremony is what really binds us like that. What keeps me here is—other reasons.”
“Like what?”
Oh, he’s really going to make him say it, isn’t he. Shen Qingqiu averts his eyes. “You know,” he mutters. “Affection. Love. The marriage is just a symbol of that. The reason I’m not going to leave is not because it’s bad to abandon someone you’re married to—I’m not going to leave, because I made you a promise! And because I really do—ah—like you a lot, Binghe—”
He barely has time to get out his last few words before Luo Binghe’s mouth is on his again. It’s the sweetest kiss he’s received in a while, and he closes his eyes and drinks it in, folding his arms tight around Luo Binghe’s quivering frame.
Luo Binghe kisses him again, deeper, then breaks away and tuck his head into Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder. Shen Qingqiu holds him, kisses the top of his head, rubs circles into his back, overcome with emotion. Ah, what is he going to do with this husband of his! One day, he’ll be able to make himself perfectly clear, and Luo Binghe will stop doubting how much he wants them to be together. Though… given both their pasts, that’s not easy. The least they can do for now is try.
After a moment, Luo Binghe lifts up his head again.
“What does Zhuzhi-lang want?”
“Well, he wants to live.”
“Does he want to marry you?”
“Yes?”
“Does he want you to treat him like your husband?”
“No,” says Shen Qingqiu immediately, but then remembers what Tianlang-jun had said: existing feelings. Does he?
Luo Binghe seems to sense his hesitation, and continues. “Even if you think marriage doesn’t really mean anything, what does it mean to him?”
“He isn’t expecting anything from me. He knows you’re my husband.”
“He’s expecting to be your husband too!”
Does Luo Binghe want him to marry Zhuzhi-lang or not?! Right now, he seems determined to make a point. Take responsibility for your marriage, Shizun. But that’s not what this is about! It’s not about Zhuzhi-lang’s crush on him or anything! It’s about saving him from death!
“Is Binghe not jealous?” Shen Qingqiu retaliates, half in amazement. “Wouldn’t my Binghe be jealous if I had another husband who I treated like a husband?”
Luo Binghe’s face does something complicated at that, but a second later the determination in his expression has increased. “Shizun should do what he wants to do.”
“What if all I want to do is make you happy?!”
Luo Binghe stares at him. Then his face breaks into a wobbly grin.
“Shizun!” he cries, shaking Shen Qingqiu by the shoulders. “Of course I’m happy! You’re my husband!”
No, that isn’t fair at all; you’re going to make your husband cry, Binghe! To save himself from embarrassment, Shen Qingqiu crushes Luo Binghe in his arms again, and Luo Binghe laughs, and kisses him, and laughs, and laughs.
Later, when they’ve stopped making out and Luo Binghe is curled up under the covers beside Shen Qingqiu, he pipes up again.
“Shizun, does Zhuzhi-lang love you?”
A spike of adrenaline pierces Shen Qingqiu’s heart at the mention of the subject that brought him so much agitation just a few minutes ago. “Does he? How should I know?”
Luo Binghe chuckles, nuzzling Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder. “Of course. My Shizun is very bad at noticing things like this.”
Shen Qingqiu bats him lightly with the back of his hand. “And Zhuzhi-lang is much less obvious than you were. He isn’t good at saying what he wants. You are much too good at saying what you want.” Not even saying—often just doing! “Zhuzhi-lang has a very black-and-white view of grievances and debts. He likes me because of all the good I’ve done for him.”
“Do you like him?”
“I like him enough to want to keep him alive.”
“Shizun.” Luo Binghe turns his head, looking at Shen Qingqiu. “If he has feelings that aren’t reciprocated, how do you think he’ll feel?”
Shen Qingqiu furrows his brows and doesn’t answer. It seems like Luo Binghe’s own feelings on Zhuzhi-lang have evolved very quickly: from an enemy both in love and in life, to a being not so different from Luo Binghe himself. He supposes it’s not an inaccurate comparison; once upon a time, Luo Binghe had, like Zhuzhi-lang, expressed that he had never imagined he’d get married one day. A long-held fear that no one would ever want him.
And now, Zhuzhi-lang’s union to Shen Qingqiu promises him a new chance at companionship. Maybe Luo Binghe is right. Though the marriage has been forced upon both of them, Shen Qingqiu shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss Zhuzhi-lang from his life. His feelings for the man might be quite different from his feelings for Luo Binghe, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be happy together in some sort of way.
He thinks about the way it had felt to hunt with Zhuzhi-lang. How quickly they had begun to work in tandem. Maybe that’s what he wants—not a romantic partner, per se, but a partner nonetheless.
“You hated Zhuzhi-lang,” he says after a pause. “And now Binghe is encouraging our marriage?”
“That was years and years ago,” says Luo Binghe dismissively. “My father is harmless now. So, Zhuzhi-lang should be harmless too.”
It’s true enough, but not what Shen Qingqiu was asking. He brings a hand up to Binghe’s head, tangling his fingers loosely in his hair. “What if he lived with us?”
Luo Binghe considers this. “No,” he decides. “Nearby, but not with us.”
“He could visit. You could cook for both of us.”
Shen Qingqiu expects Luo Binghe to reject this outright, but instead, Luo Binghe says, “Hm. Sometimes.”
Alright, this is getting too weird. What happened to his husband’s stallion jealousy?! “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“If making him happy makes you happy, then I want to.”
Shen Qingqiu isn’t even sure if he wants to do all of these things! It’s really too early to be talking about this, anyway; he’s not even married to Zhuzhi-lang yet. They’ll just have to go over all of this later, in person.
Plus, he thinks idly, it’s not like he even has to marry Zhuzhi-lang. He now sees that Luo Binghe probably wouldn’t be too upset if he just fucked him and got it over with. But, all of a sudden, that doesn’t seem right. Not after Zhuzhi-lang’s expressed his feelings on an actual marriage. And Shen Qingqiu even finds himself looking forward to doubly-married life. It’ll be a chance to start over with Zhuzhi-lang, a chance to get to know him better, a chance to be friends, not enemies.
…And there will always be chances to fuck him later. If he wants to. Hypothetically.
As Shen Qingqiu thinks, he feels himself growing more restless. Wakefulness drags at his consciousness, blurring the dreamscape.
“You’re waking up,” Luo Binghe says sleepily.
Shen Qingqiu kisses his forehead. “I’ll see you tonight.” Maybe, by that time, he and Zhuzhi-lang will be married. The hunt so far has been much more productive than he’d expected—there’s a non-zero chance that the two of them will be able to complete the rest of the rituals today. Still, it’s a formidable amount of work… he can only hope he got enough rest.
“Tell me all about it,” calls Luo Binghe just before Shen Qingqiu fades for good.
-
Shen Qingqiu wakes in the bamboo house, in the arms of another demon man. There’s a hand pressed to his chest, a weight beneath him, and he can feel something brushing against his leg.
“Master Shen,” says a faint voice, and Shen Qingqiu opens his eyes.
Zhuzhi-lang is sitting up in bed, one hand holding a book, one hand resting on Shen Qingqiu’s breast. Ah, no, Shen Qingqiu isn’t in his arms—his head is in his lap! And the identity of the thing tickling his leg becomes apparent when a tiny green snake slithers out of Zhuzhi-lang’s sleeve and flicks its tongue at Shen Qingqiu.
“Where did you get the snakes?” asks Shen Qingqiu blearily as he spots another, larger one near the foot of the bed. He can’t even be surprised! But Zhuzhi-lang didn’t seem to have his snakes with him when he turned up at first…
“I found them while we were hunting.”
“I didn’t notice.” How long has Zhuzhi-lang been surreptitiously gathering snakes?!
“I didn’t want to distract you. These were the few creatures I did not want to kill.”
The little snake darts away and burrows into the space between their bodies. Shen Qingqiu can’t really be mad, either. It’s just too cute!
“I woke you,” continues Zhuzhi-lang, “because of something I read.” He shows Shen Qingqiu what he’s reading: it’s one of the anthropology books. “Apparently the culmination of the marriage ceremony must happen at dawn.”
It takes a moment for Shen Qingqiu’s brain to catch up with the implications of this new information. “So… tomorrow…”
Zhuzhi-lang looks grave. “Yes. Tomorrow at dawn.”
Shit! That means they do have to complete the rest of the rituals today! Shen Qingqiu sits up hurriedly, head spinning. Originally, they had another half a day because of when Zhuzhi-lang was resurrected, but now that they no longer have that buffer, it’s crunch time. That’s… twenty-seven more creatures to go? Then the decoration of the ceremonial cave, and all the rituals inside it, and then they have to go out again exactly at dawn…
“What time is it?” he asks Zhuzhi-lang.
“Just before noon.”
And not a minute too early. Shen Qingqiu scrambles off the bed, sending a few hidden snakes flying. “Then let’s go.”
-
They head deeper into the forest. With their new deadline hanging over them, Shen Qingqiu finds himself mentally prioritizing quantity over quality. Sure, it’s cool if they find some sort of exotic fantasy monster, but what’s more important is getting this done fast!
Which is how Shen Qingqiu ends up on his knees in the middle of the forest, carefully lifting sections of a rotting log one by one.
“Master Shen,” says Zhuzhi-lang, shifting from leg to leg as he stands above him, “do you hear that flock of crows? They might make a better target…”
Shen Qingqiu reaches into the detritus beneath a particularly wet log and plucks a black beetle from the soil. Listen, he knows how it looks, but there are way more species of insect in the world than any other animal! If they want diversity, they’re gonna need to diversify!
The beetle is easily stunned with a bolt of energy. Shen Qingqiu squints at it. Not only does it look unappetizing, but this whole thing is supremely undignified. Oh well, as long as it’s for Zhuzhi-lang…
He very tentatively takes a bite out of the abdomen. Crunchy. It tastes… pretty goddamn awful!! All bitter and gross! Grimacing, he forces himself to chew and then swallow, then looks hopefully at the System window.
Nothing?!? Does hemolymph not count as blood????
Shen Qingqiu wants to kill something. Fortunately, he’s about to get plenty of opportunities.
“I don’t think bugs count,” says Zhuzhi-lang apologetically.
You could’ve told me that before I ate the bug!! thinks Shen Qingqiu. He drops the poor dead beetle back into the mud and straightens up, brushing dirt and leaves from his robes. “It’s important to make sure we’re not missing any fauna that could potentially help us. Let’s find that flock of crows.”
Crows, fortunately, do count towards the blood tally. So do the other species of bird that Shen Qingqiu and Zhuzhi-lang encounter in their trek across the forest. Now that it’s daytime, birds are out by the dozen, and, since they’re both identifiable and trackable by their songs, make up a significant portion of the catches.
The warm, pleasant daytime atmosphere has another significant effect: it greatly improves Shen Qingqiu’s mood. It’s almost easier to think of this expedition not as a hunt, but as a casual stroll with a friend. Maybe a birdwatching event! With blood-drinking. Zhuzhi-lang surprises Shen Qingqiu with his knowledge of bird identification: it makes sense that, after living so long as a snake-like creature in a forest, he would gain those sorts of skills. When Shen Qingqiu prompts him for more fun facts, Zhuzhi-lang explains the nesting habits of each bird they’ve caught so far—specifically, how to find (and eat) their eggs.
“Are eggs better than whole birds?” Shen Qingqiu asks, intrigued.
“They’re much easier to come by.” He laughs. “And less likely to attack you. Except…”
“Except the eggs of the Cinnabar Moon Raptor,” says Shen Qingqiu, nodding. That bird’s eggs are rock-solid, and grow razor-sharp spines when touched. A few tribes to the west use them as booby-traps; Shen Qingqiu remembers begrudgingly complimenting Airplane on that particular worldbuilding detail.
“Master Shen, your bird knowledge is impressive as well.”
Shen Qingqiu smiles. “Oh no, my memory is selective when it comes to these things. But I have read many bestiaries.”
Speaking of which… for a while now they’ve been walking adjacent to an unusual but somewhat-familiar set of tracks. It’s only after remembering all the monster research he’s done that Shen Qingqiu thinks to investigate. He strolls over, crouching beside the trail. Each footprint is as big as his hand, with three thick toes and pointed talons. They look most like dinosaur tracks, or those of a very large bird.
Of course, Shen Qingqiu knows of only one bird that might have produced such a mark: the ferocious Emerald-Winged Stonecarver, named for its feathers that will fetch a good price at any market and its beak so sharp it can slice through rock.
Obviously they need to take a detour to check it out.
“This way,” calls Shen Qingqiu, ushering Zhuzhi-lang towards the tracks. They look fresh; the ground is soft with the showers from this morning. Following them should lead them to a rocky outcropping of some sort, which the Stonecarver has likely carved up to make its nest. Trying to kill it is… probably ill-advised, but it shouldn’t be too hard to just catch a glimpse, right? Think of it as advanced birdwatching!
They’ll have to be quick, though—the light has begun to fade, and it can’t be more than half an hour til the sun sets. At least they only have a few beasts left until the hunt is complete.
It’s a five-minute walk until the forest thins out and they see it: a huge rock, maybe the height of three cars stacked on top of each other and three times as wide. It’s been hollowed out to create a kind of arched entryway into a cave, and from where Shen Qingqiu and Zhuzhi-lang are standing twenty feet away, they can see about half the nest. It’s made of sticks and tree branches and dead weeds, though there are definitely a few items of clothing stuck in there as well. Makes it softer, Shen Qingqiu supposes.
“That’s a Stonecarver nest,” says Zhuzhi-lang in awe. “I didn’t know there was one here.”
“You’ve seen them before?”
He nods. “Junshang once fought a Stonecarver to impress Su Xiyan.”
“Did he win?”
“Yes, of course. He let me eat the eggs, but they weren’t very good.”
Shen Qingqiu can’t see any eggs in this nest—he supposes there’s no loss there, then. He takes a few steps forward, scanning the area without quite clearing the treeline. But where is the bird…?
No bird—but there is a large feather stuck in one of the adjoining rocks. Curious, Shen Qingqiu walks over, away from Zhuzhi-lang, and pulls it out. As expected, it’s a vibrant blue-green color, and almost the length of his forearm. The quill is strangely bulbous. Might that make it harder for the bird to shed its feathers? Did Airplane write it like that for a reason? It’s much too thin to be a dildo… ah, when did Stonecarvers appear in Proud Immortal Demon Way again? The arc with the three warrior princesses, right? Shen Qingqiu opens his qiankun pouch full of carrion and pockets the feather, trying to remember where Luo Binghe had found the bird in the novel and what he had done with it after killing it.
A shout sounds from behind him. “Master Shen!”
Oh shit!
He barely has time to turn around before a wall of wind slams into him, knocking him to the ground. The Emerald-Winged Stonecarver towers above him, wings raised. Though it’s flightless, the muscles in its shoulders are well-developed, and another powerful flap sends Shen Qingqiu sprawling.
Shen Qingqiu makes a sword seal, but the bird is quicker. Its shape resembles a hawk crossed with a velociraptor, with talons just as deadly as it makes a swipe for Shen Qingqiu’s chest. Xiu Ya flies to his protection just in time, protecting his vital organs, but one of the claws nicks his elbow and draws a thin stream of blood.
Though he’s operating mostly on pure panic, some instinct tells Shen Qingqiu that the Stonecarver, with its sharp nose, must have caught a whiff of the carcasses in the qiankun pouch. He grabs the pouch and tosses it far away from him. The Stonecarver leaps towards it like a cat at a laser pointer, but is met with the huge, serpentine figure of a transformed Zhuzhi-lang.
The Stonecarver may be a good few feet taller than Shen Qingqiu, but its size is nothing compared to Zhuzhi-lang. It tries to dash away in the opposite direction, but Zhuzhi-lang lunges at it, tearing at its wing with his massive jaws. Feathers fly every which way. The Stonecarver shrieks.
Now that he’s no longer being targeted, Shen Qingqiu jumps to his feet. He sends Xiu Ya into the fray, slicing at the bird’s head. At the same time, Zhuzhi-lang swerves out of the way of a jab of the Stonecarver’s beak and begins to coil himself around its neck. He’s so big that this action effectively immobilizes it: the Stonecarver thrashes while Zhuzhi-lang tightens his grip, trying futilely to peck at him with its beak, but Zhuzhi-lang just squeezes and squeezes, wrapping himself around its torso and legs. Finally, he sinks his teeth into the Stonecarver’s neck, and with one last ear-piercing cry, the bird goes still.
Xiu Ya, having proved rather useless, returns to Shen Qingqiu’s scabbard. Shen Qingqiu takes a long, shaky breath, gaze fixed upon the stream of blood that floods from the puncture wounds in the Stonecarver’s neck and dyes its feathers scarlet. His eyes meet Zhuzhi-lang’s.
Then, all of a sudden, Zhuzhi-lang’s grip on the Stonecarver loosens. He uncoils like a loose rope, more of a fall than a graceful unwinding, and it is only a second before he sees the second pool of blood on the ground that Shen Qingqiu realizes something is wrong.
He dashes over immediately, heart in his throat. Zhuzhi-lang, back in human form but clearly struggling to maintain it, is crumpled on the ground, teeth gritted in pain. A large red stain shines on the front of his robes.
“Master Shen needn’t look so worried,” whispers Zhuzhi-lang as Shen Qingqiu sinks to his knees beside him. He pulls himself up to a half-seated position, supporting himself by his elbows. “It’s only my leg—”
Shen Qingqiu pushes Zhuzhi-lang’s robes aside and tears a hole in his pants. The cut on his own elbow smarts; he pays it no attention. There is indeed a wound in Zhuzhi-lang’s thigh, just above the knee. It’s a puncture rather than a slash, deep and ugly. Shen Qingqiu whips his head around to inspect the dead Stonecarver, searching for any part of its anatomy that could make such an injury. It’s getting harder to see in the dying daylight, but sure enough, there’s a sharp thorn like a dewclaw protruding from the bird’s ankle, about halfway up its leg. It must have kicked back at Zhuzhi-lang when he was coiling around its legs.
“It’s not poisonous,” Shen Qingqiu reassures himself, then corrects, “Venomous,” because he’s not a fucking noob, okay. But, ah, even if it was venomous… wouldn’t a Heavenly Demon be able to heal himself? Actually, shouldn’t Zhuzhi-lang be able to heal a stab wound as well as he would a poisoning? The flow of blood doesn’t seem to have slowed at all. Unless the bird did inject some sort of anticoagulant… but Shen Qingqiu should’ve known about that…
Well, no time for speculations! Shen Qingqiu rips a strip of fabric from the bottom of Zhuzhi-lang’s robe and wraps it a couple times around his thigh before tying it with a sturdy knot. Zhuzhi-lang groans.
“It’s okay, Xizhi-lang,” Shen Qingqiu murmurs. He sets one hand on Zhuzhi-lang’s dantian, pouring a stream of qi into his body, and the other hand on his bare knee. “Can’t you stop the bleeding now?”
Zhuzhi-lang shivers. He shakes his head.
The pit in Shen Qingqiu’s stomach deepens. “You can’t? You aren’t poisoned, are you?”
“I can’t,” says Zhuzhi-lang faintly. “I’m sorry, Master Shen. My powers… until we’re married, my body is weak from the recent resurrection.”
Shit, shit! This bit was not in Proud Immortal Demon Way; Luo Binghe had just gone straight to the papapa with his resurrected wife! Which… is now looking like their only solution as well, thinks Shen Qingqiu with a sudden resignation. He peers down at the incapacitated Zhuzhi-lang, now fully lying on his back in the damp leaves. His hair is as disheveled as his clothes and his face is very pale, accentuating the red of his lips. If his injury is bad, he might not be able to walk, let alone hunt. Sex would solve all their problems right here, right now.
It’s kind of a relief, actually, to be getting it over with. He’s sure he can make it gentle for Zhuzhi-lang. It doesn’t matter that they’re on the ground, or… or that they’re right next to the carcass of a giant bird…
But as Shen Qingqiu begins to untie Zhuzhi-lang’s belt, Zhuzhi-lang stops him with a soft hand on his wrist.
“Master Shen, what are you doing?”
“Xizhi-lang, let this master take care of you now. We don’t have to do the rest of the marriage if—”
The hand tightens around his wrist. Zhuzhi-lang’s face twists in horror. “No—please, Master Shen, we can finish the marriage—”
“Let us consummate our first marriage, and then we can finish the second one.” Shen Qingqiu can feel a vibrant blush color his cheeks at the words, but he means them. He knows when to let go of propriety in a life-or-death situation!
Zhuzhi-lang shakes his head. “To sleep together before the end of the ceremonies would render the marriage void.”
Agh, why do Snake Demons have this rule?! Wouldn’t Airplane want to cram in as much sex as possible? Shen Qingqiu’s mind isn’t quite up to the task of remembering right now.
He leans in a little closer. “If the Sepulchral Marriage is consummated, it doesn’t matter if the other one is successful or not.”
Zhuzhi-lang bites his lip. His eyes travel from the Stonecarver carcass, to the rocky cave nest, to the sun sinking behind the mountains, back to Shen Qingqiu’s face.
“Whatever is most comfortable for Master Shen,” he says, very quietly.
No, it’s not what’s most comfortable for Master Shen!! It’s what’s most comfortable for both of them! Because they’re a pair, and they have to decide this together!
“You really want to marry me,” Shen Qingqiu says, and it comes out low and almost disbelieving.
The hand on Shen Qingqiu’s wrist slides up to grip the back of his hand. Zhuzhi-lang’s smile is small and sheepish.
“I do,” he admits. “If Master Shen would permit it, there is nothing else I want more.”
Shen Qingqiu’s throat is dry. There is something about this Zhuzhi-lang—lying on the ground, all his power sapped from him, yet smiling, holding his hand—that is just absolutely unbearable.
He turns his head away. “In my dream, I… spoke with Luo Binghe. He doesn’t object to our marriage. So, if you wanted to… to spend more time together, or maybe stay with us sometimes, after we’re married…”
In his peripheral vision, he can see Zhuzhi-lang’s eyes widen.
“Master Shen would want that?”
“Xizhi-lang is good company.”
Zhuzhi-lang seems lost for words. His fingers tighten around Shen Qingqiu’s hand.
“But he won’t be good company if he dies,” continues Shen Qingqiu, returning his Peak Lord authoritativeness to his voice. He gives Zhuzhi-lang’s hand one more squeeze, then stands up, calling up the System window as he does so. The figure displayed there makes his heart leap: 48/50!! Just two more creatures left! And it’s just their luck that they have a freshly dead one right here…
Though not quite pouring anymore, the Stonecarver’s neck wounds are still bloody. The pool of blood has mostly been absorbed into the ground, but there’s a definite dark red tint to the leaves. Ah well, it’s well past the time for Shen Qingqiu to start worrying about whether or not he gets blood on his boots. He crouches down and puts his mouth to the deep puncture in the bird’s neck. It’s much bigger than the killing blows have been on the other animals they’ve caught, which makes it a lot harder to drink blood from. That is… to drink blood cleanly. He has absolutely no problem getting blood, it’s just… getting all over the lower half of his face.
When he stands again, as gracefully as he can knowing he looks like a mess, Zhuzhi-lang has managed to sit up. He goes very still when sees Shen Qingqiu.
And then he smiles. This time, Shen Qingqiu can see his teeth.
“Master Shen,” he intones. “Please, let this one do you another service.”
Shen Qingqiu can do nothing but kneel before Zhuzhi-lang again, heartbeat pattering. Zhuzhi-lang takes Shen Qingqiu’s face in his hands, tilts his head, and—slowly, carefully, precisely—laves his tongue down Shen Qingqiu’s jaw.
The sound that issues from Shen Qingqiu’s throat is small and ragged and completely involuntary.
Zhuzhi-lang smiles into his cheek, then gets to work again, licking up every drop of blood from his lips and his chin, following the dribbles down his neck until Shen Qingqiu is shivering with the sensitivity of his cool, wet skin. He never lets go of Shen Qingqiu, never lets his tongue leave his face for more than a moment. His breath is warm and steady, and it takes very little time for Shen Qingqiu to relax, for his eyelids to slide closed and his mouth to part, especially as Zhuzhi-lang’s lips ghost across his chin.
Zhuzhi-lang laughs faintly, and pulls Shen Qingqiu into a proper kiss—brief, tantalizing, but just long enough for Zhuzhi-lang to flick his tongue across the backs of his teeth and the roof of his mouth, making him squirm with pleasure. Then he draws back, looking sheepish.
“I hope Master Shen will not regard my actions as overly inappropriate…?”
Shen Qingqiu shakes his head, dazed. When you’ve lived for so long with Luo Binghe, your perception of what’s inappropriate can get a bit skewed. “It’s an—effective way to share blood.”
Sure enough, the System’s blood tally has increased by one. Just one more creature to go, and then they can begin the final phase of the marriage ceremony…
First thing’s first is to make sure Zhuzhi-lang actually has enough strength to do the rest of the ceremony. Shen Qingqiu sits cross-legged on the ground and motions Zhuzhi-lang into his lap; when he’s there, he places a hand on his back and begins to circulate qi through both their bodies. He feels the sting of the cut on his own elbow lessen. It’s harder to tell how Zhuzhi-lang is doing, but at least his blood-soaked bandage doesn’t seem to be getting any redder. Tentatively, Shen Qingqiu places his other hand on Zhuzhi-lang’s hip; Zhuzhi-lang shivers in his arms.
While they’re sitting and healing together, the sky fades from cobalt to a deep navy. Looking up, Shen Qingqiu discovers, to his delight, a bird circling far overhead. Judging by the white streaks in its pitch-black fur, and the way it closes in on the clearing, it’s a Spotted Onyx Night Vulture, drawn here by the scent of the dead Stonecarver.
Shen Qingqiu doesn’t hesitate. He makes a sword seal and sends Xiu Ya shooting upward, piercing the vulture through the chest before it can even see what hit it. As it begins to plummet, Shen Qingqiu directs Xiu Ya back towards him and tugs the blade out of the bird’s body.
“How many more do we need?” asks Zhuzhi-lang, looking keenly at the dead vulture.
“This is the last one.”
With a now-familiar gesture, Shen Qingqiu lowers his head to the clean sword wound and gulps down a mouthful of blood. He’s actually beginning to get used to the salty iron taste of it. Not that he’d seek it out on his own, but it’s really not that bad! Maybe he’ll get Binghe to cook with chicken blood or something sometime…
Shen Qingqiu looks at Zhuzhi-lang, who is waiting patiently for his turn on the vulture. Ah, well, since it’s the last time… Shen Qingqiu can do something indulgent. For Zhuzhi-lang’s sake!
He laps up a last helping of blood, tilts Zhuzhi-lang’s face down towards him, and kisses him.
Zhuzhi-lang starts—as if he didn’t just do the same thing to Shen Qingqiu! —but a moment later he parts his lips and receives his offering with an eager tongue. Shen Qingqiu almost chokes as Zhuzhi-lang explores his mouth, kisses him deeper than he ever has before, terribly messy but so, so sweet.
The System chimes in: [ Congratulations! Objective: ~ The Couple that Slays Together, Stays Together ~ complete! Blood Consumed: 50/50. Final mission begin: ~ A House for a Husband. ~ ]
Shen Qingqiu can’t help but smile upon hearing these words. He doesn’t break away from Zhuzhi-lang immediately—not until Zhuzhi-lang straightens up and inches back, blushing profusely. A dribble of blood trails down his chin; Shen Qingqiu reaches out and wipes it away with his thumb.
“Master Shen is too kind,” murmurs Zhuzhi-lang.
“Xizhi-lang must not forget the kindness he has shown this old master,” hums Shen Qingqiu in response. He pats Zhuzhi-lang on the head, then stands and stretches.
For the final part of the ceremony, the two of them must find and “decorate” a cave together. Fortunately, it looks like they’ve stumbled across the perfect cave already: the hole in the rock where the Stonecarver’s nest sits. The manner of decoration varies from couple to couple, but as far as Shen Qingqiu can tell, the one requirement is that the spouses-to-be must weave something together to represent their union. That being done, they must erect a number of rocks in the back of the cave representing ancestral tablets, drink wine from the same flask, and, finally, lie intertwined until the dawn, at which point they’ll step out of the cave, circle each other three times in the sunlight, and, with that, be married.
Shen Qingqiu sighs, stooping to collect the two bird carcasses into his qiankun pouch. He’s got a long night ahead of him.
-
Though small, the Stonecarver’s cave surprisingly suits their purposes perfectly. Not only does it provide adequate shelter, but the nest within is feathered with an assortment of sticks, reeds, and fabric. Looks like the two of them won’t have to look any farther for their decorations. (And given Zhuzhi-lang can’t walk right now without a pronounced limp, Shen Qingqiu is relieved that most of their activities can be conducted while seated.)
After the intense day of hunting monsters, there’s something very relaxing about sitting up against a wall with Zhuzhi-lang and weaving sticks into mats. It feels… domestic. It’s something he doesn’t have to put his brain into. They don’t talk much, just focus on their crafts, occasionally comparing their handiwork or glancing outside to take note of the movements of the clouds. Shen Qingqiu is surprised to discover that he’s better at weaving sticks together than Zhuzhi-lang is. Well, he supposes that being part-snake doesn’t exactly come with exceptional fine motor skills. In that case, this particular marriage ceremony must be reserved for the most powerful Snake Demons; none other could take humanoid forms to make such elaborate crafts as this.
Creating the ancestral tablet stones proves even easier. There’s an alcove at the end of the cave where they can line them all up nicely—they’re all a bit lopsided or jagged, as one might expect of rocks found in a random cave, but they do the job. Strangely, there’s no requirement for these stones to have the names of their ancestors carved on them, which doesn’t really make sense to Shen Qingqiu. Isn’t that kind of defeating the point of an ancestral tablet? Or do Snake Demons place less stock in language and names, and require only abstract representations of their kin? Whatever the case, Shen Qingqiu isn’t complaining; he doesn’t know Shen Jiu’s parents’ names, and he isn’t about to write his own. Zhuzhi-lang is likely in the same boat—Airplane, at least, certainly never named his parents.
Once the woven mats are complete, Shen Qingqiu and Zhuzhi-lang prop them against the walls of the cave, set down the extra fabric in the center, and sit down together. After much rummaging in his overfull qiankun pouch, Shen Qingqiu produces the wine he’d put in there days earlier, and pours some into a cup.
“The husband drinks first,” says Zhuzhi-lang suddenly as Shen Qingqiu is about to hand him the cup.
“We’re both husbands,” Shen Qingqiu protests, his ears growing warm.
Zhuzhi-lang presses his lips together, looking at him intently. “For the purposes of this ritual, I would be your wife.”
The blush spreads down Shen Qingqiu’s body. At least he’s not the one getting designated the wife this time, but…
“Ah, how did you come to that conclusion, Xizhi-lang?”
“You’re the consort of Luo Binghe. You have more power than I do.”
Hey, that doesn’t necessarily make him the husband! Isn’t that a bit misogynistic, Zhuzhi-lang? But, ah, he’s not complaining! These things are pretty arbitrary anyway! For the sake of the ceremony, they just need to pick one…
Maintaining eye contact, Shen Qingqiu picks up the cup again and takes a long drink. It’s a nice wine he picked—definitely better than most of the blood he’s been drinking. He hands the cup to Zhuzhi-lang and watches as he sips it in turn.
Very slowly, Zhuzhi-lang puts down the empty glass. His piercing eyes never leave Shen Qingqiu’s.
“At this point,” he says, “the Snake Demons would twist their bodies around each other. But as you’re a human…”
He opens his arms.
Once upon a time, Shen Yuan had laughed at the idea that such a violent, bloody marriage ceremony would end in a hug. Granted, in Proud Immortal Demon Way it had been a tense, sexual sort of hug, but here… here, it just feels right.
Shen Qingqiu gathers Zhuzhi-lang into his arms, helping him to the floor while careful not to put pressure on his injured leg. They end up side by side, arms around each other and ankles intertwined. Despite being the taller of the two, Zhuzhi-lang tucks his head underneath Shen Qingqiu’s chin and cuddles in close. His skin is cool to the touch; Shen Qingqiu finds himself unconsciously rubbing his hands up and down Zhuzhi-lang’s back.
Aaah, when did he get so… so touchy-feely?! Years of living with Luo Binghe must be rubbing off on him. Maybe it’s just a husband’s instinct. He really can’t help it—Zhuzhi-lang is just so soft and lithe and good for hugging.
He doesn’t know how long they stay like that. Long enough to feel Zhuzhi-lang’s heartbeat slow to a dim pulse. Long enough to become statue-like in his pose, splayed palms fixed to Zhuzhi-lang’s back, chests rising and falling in unison as if they were made as two halves of one great machine. Long enough for a swath of washed-out blue to color the sky above the mountains.
Zhuzhi-lang, as if sensing the impending sunrise, stirs.
“Thank you, Master Shen,” he breathes. “I never thought I would be married. I never thought I would fall in love at all…”
All Shen Qingqiu can do is squeeze him tighter. Fall in love— that’s too much to process. He’ll deal with that later. He doesn’t want to grapple with the improbable notion of someone having actual feelings for him. Other than Luo Binghe, that is—but Luo Binghe is a special case—and he supposes Zhuzhi-lang is too, but… what has he really been to Zhuzhi-lang? An unknowing benefactor, an unwilling captive, and now, an unwitting husband. Is that enough? Is that really enough for something so big as love to spring forth?
The mountains are tipped in golden light. Zhuzhi-lang grazes his lips across Shen Qingqiu’s collarbone, then, slowly, untangles himself. Shen Qingqiu stands and stretches, helping Zhuzhi-lang to his feet.
“It’s dawn,” says Zhuzhi-lang, gazing out over the waking forest. The wispy clouds above shine pink and orange. The first rays of sunlight creep into the recesses of the cave.
Hand in hand, Shen Qingqiu and Zhuzhi-lang step out into the sun.
Maybe that is enough, thinks Shen Qingqiu. Maybe that IS enough for love.
Zhuzhi-lang is smiling wider than he’s ever seen him as they walk in slow circles around each other, barely keeping an arm’s length away. With each revolution, Zhuzhi-lang’s gait becomes steadier and his back straightens. By the time they’ve done three full circles, his limp has disappeared completely.
[ Congratulations!!! ] cries the System, somewhere in the background. [ All objectives complete. ]
So it worked! The Sepulchral Marriage is done, and Zhuzhi-lang is alive! Shen Qingqiu should celebrate, should jump back on his sword and ride off to tell Tianlang-jun, should make plans to welcome home Luo Binghe. But all he can think about is the way that the dawn’s rays catch in Zhuzhi-lang’s hair, and that warm, wonderful smile on his lips.
“My husband,” he says, softly, experimentally. (Oh, Binghe is going to be mad when he realizes how easy it was for Shen Qingqiu to say it this time.)
Zhuzhi-lang nods, and takes both his hands in his own, eyes as bright as the sun.