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On Xuandu Mountain, one would find themselves in a state of tranquility if they were to stroll through the dimly lit paths in the dead of night.
The calm whistling breeze, if it weren’t biting cold, would gently caress the passerby’s skin as the sheer silence of the beautifully constructed sect would leave chills running down one’s spine. To not get lost at the sight of these buildings’ structures, gaping at every intricate detail, would be impossible.
For such a large sect, to find its area void of any disciples eagerly training, sparring, or any form of action and noise would be quite rare. Well, if it were day.
But at this ungodly time, way past curfew, majority of the sect were most likely already asleep. If some were still awake, then they were probably in their separate quarters - either meditating or reading a scroll.
With the only sounds one’s ears would pick up on being the rustling of leaves, chirping of crickets, and one’s steady footsteps, the entire sect was submerged in a soothing peace of which the world’s greatest sedative guqin music cannot compare.
Yan Wushi would have loved to destroy this peace.
Not that he would now, though. Of course not.
He had a good reason not to, anyways.
As the thought crossed his mind, Yan Wushi’s eyes found its way to the front door of his husband’s private lodge, and at an instant, his heart swelled. This was his good reason.
With abundant thoughts of one man drowning his mind, one he loved, he lightly sauntered over to his quarters.
A-Qiao..
To traverse this far of a distance from one of Huanyue Sect’s bases to here, where his living, breathing home stayed, would have been unthinkable to the Yan Wushi of the past.
But that didn’t matter now.
For Shen Qiao, anything was worth it.
Even if it meant travelling hundreds of li late in the night, having just emerged from (mentally) exhausting work his disciple left him; to catch a glimpse of his beloved, pepper him with kisses, and maybe do more before anything else would render all hardships tiny in comparison.
In truth, he’d go through death over and over for him.
It didn’t take long until Yan Wushi’s hand found itself gently creaking the door to Shen Qiao’s quarters open, as to not disturb the man inside. He wasn’t too worried, though, knowing how the beautiful man would most probably be meditating rather than snoozing in his bed. It was quite comical, really, since Yan Wushi will, one way or another, disturb whatever action Shen Qiao chose to do for the night.
But despite the fact, his footsteps remained silent against the floorboards - his eyes darting all over the place for his beloved A-Qiao.
He usually meditates here.. Yan Wushi thought, passing by the first room where Shen Qiao was nowhere to be seen. With another turn, and he found himself at the entrance to Shen Qiao’s bedroom. He takes a step passed the open doorway, when suddenly, he halts.
Slowly, Yan Wushi’s eyes softened.
On the bed, bundled up in a wrinkled silky white blanket, was Shen Qiao—hair heavily disheveled, eyes shut, and flushed cheeks. Truly, this was a sight that will probably stay imprinted on Yan Wushi’s mind for as long as he lived.
It didn’t last long in real life, however.
A single step on an out-of-place floorboard was enough to stir the man awake.
And there he was—slightly wobbling as he sat up with one arm grasping at a pillow for support, displaying hazy eyes and parted lips of which Yan Wushi was desperately holding back to kiss.
Blinking twice, Shen Qiao spoke in a low, croaky voice, “Yan.. Wushi?” Said man felt his heart thump against the roof of his chest. It was unbelievable how easily Shen Qiao could make Yan Wushi, the highly esteemed and feared Huanyue Sect leader, swoon. The rest of the world could only imagine.
Adorable, Yan Wushi thought.
The seemingly fragile beauty rubbed his eyes, cheeks glowing a deep red in the moonlight. Shen Qiao didn’t move from his position, simply gazing at Yan Wushi’s silhouette before the weight of his own body tipped him over, letting the pillows beneath him stop his fall. Yan Wushi suppressed the urge to chuckle.
As much as Yan Wushi would love to come back to his husband who’d be all drowsy, disheveled, and defenseless every night, he knew that this was abnormal. Usually, the moment Yan Wushi entered his quarters, Shen Qiao would have already noticed. By the time Yan Wushi would approach Shen Qiao, he’d greet the other right away despite his nightly meditation.
Yan Wushi wasn’t completely in the dark about what might have happened to Shen Qiao for him to be in such a state, though.
He walked to the side of the bed, bending a knee onto the mattress as Yan Wushi gently set a hand onto Shen Qiao’s forehead, brushing his bangs. As he suspected, his skin was warmer than usual.
“A-Qiao’s sick,” Yan Wushi whispered, sliding his hand down Shen Qiao’s face to cup his cheek instead. Shen Qiao grumbled at the words.
He leaned into Yan Wushi’s touch, though evaded eye-contact with the man. “.. It’s nothing,” he spoke into his palm. Yan Wushi’s fingers tingled, a smile creeping its way into his lips.
He sighed. “Did A-Qiao overexert himself today?” Yan Wushi asked with a voice so gentle that no one but him and Shen Qiao would ever be able to discern it was him.
As though caught red handed, Shen Qiao drew his eyebrows together and looked further away, hiding himself behind Yan Wushi’s hand. The latter could feel Shen Qiao’s lips forming a pout against his palm and Yan Wushi’s stomach only toppled over. Amidst the silence, only one word remained clear in the older man’s clouded mind:
Cute.
Really, if it weren’t for Yan Wushi’s remaining ounce of self-control, Shen Qiao would have ended up like the Shen Qiao from countless of nights before by now. Yan Wushi knew he had to hold back, though. Shen Qiao’s wellbeing now came first.
Thankfully, this little fever of his wasn’t that serious, so Yan Wushi didn’t worry much.
It was a good while before any of the two spoke. Neither of them moved, too. After an incense stick of time has passed, Yan Wushi slowly withdrew his hand from Shen Qiao’s face and brushed locks of his hair with his fingers instead.
Not a moment went by when Yan Wushi leaned in, whispering to his ear, “This venerable one will get A-Qiao some herbs and brew a remedy. Stay here and rest.” His breath on Shen Qiao’s neck dissipated as he retracted his head. Yan Wushi’s eyes caught on, however, when he noticed the other slightly leaning in as he left the comfort of his husband’s touch.
At the small action, Yan Wushi’s heart lit up with a warmth void of any lust or desire. Quite the foreign feeling, but knowing it’s A-Qiao who’s making him feel this way, he’d gladly embrace it.
Even if, hypothetically, Shen Qiao would hurt Yan Wushi instead, the man would still accept it wholeheartedly, knowing what pain he’d caused Shen Qiao in the past can’t even compare.
“I’ll be back.”
He only took one step from the bed when he felt a tug on his robes. Yan Wushi whipped his head around, only to see Shen Qiao outside of the blanket’s grasp, pulling at his sleeve.
Yan Wushi laughed, gazing upon the childish expression on Shen Qiao’s face. “A-Qiao, this venerable one is only going away for a short while,” he said, snorting. “This one will come back as soon as he can, and it won’t be longer than a few minutes—woah!” Yan Wushi’s words get cut off as Shen Qiao pulls his arm, causing him to fall next to the sick man on his bed.
Before Yan Wushi could say anything, Shen Qiao wrapped his arms around the other’s waist, locking him in place. “Stay,” he said, rubbing his face against Yan Wushi’s chest.
With one hand, Yan Wushi intertwined his fingers in Shen Qiao’s hair, tucking his head underneath his chin. “A-Qiao doesn’t want me to get him medicine?” Shen Qiao only tightened his embrace as response, getting Yan Wushi to chuckle lowly.
“... Meditation in the morning will suffice. Yan-zhongzhu needn’t trouble himself for this lowly one,” Shen Qiao mumbled against Yan Wushi’s robes.
The two barely had any distance from each other that Yan Wushi could feel Shen Qiao’s steady heartbeats underneath his own. Shen Qiao’s breath tickled the skin beneath his ashen robes and Yan Wushi only wanted to close off any space left between them.
“A-Qiao’s quite needy tonight,” he teased, holding Shen Qiao even closer. The latter grabbed Yan Wushi’s free hand and draped it over his own waist before going back to hug him. With half-lidded eyes, Yan Wushi smiled, pressing his lips against Shen Qiao’s hair. The two said nothing more, and merely cherished each other’s presence.
To love, and to be loved like this, by his A-Qiao, Yan Wushi wanted nothing more.
He was content.
And like how he felt when the feeling first bloomed in his heart all those years ago, Yan Wushi felt happy.
It was during moments like these when Yan Wushi knew: he’d treasure the man in his arms for eternity.
“A-Qiao, my dearest A-Qiao,” Yan Wushi whispered against Shen Qiao’s head, feeling sleepy for the first time in a while. “I love you.”
-
In the morning, Yan Wushi scolded Xuandu Mountain’s disciples for being incompetent and dumping all their work onto their leader. Said leader, behind them, had already been freed of his sickness, but for some reason hadn’t gotten rid of the red tinge on his cheeks.