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It’s dark out. The moonlight glints off the tall bamboo. Shen Yuan walks on feather-light feet ‘til he’s well and truly out of earshot from the cottage. He heaves a sigh of relief. The cold night air is a slight relief against his flushed, feverish skin. Panting lightly, he savours that sweet alleviation as he wanders towards the peak’s entrance.

“Shixiong?”

“Ah shit,” he yelps. Wobbling a little, he turns towards the interruption.

Peeking at him from between the bamboo is none other than his poor, sweet, mistreated little shidi. Luo Binghe’s angelic eyes are wide and watery as he (quite astutely) inspects Shen Yuan. “I thought something was off on the way back from the nighthunt. Shixiong, what’s going on?”

Shen Yuan holds in his sigh. So much for not getting caught. “Binghe, there’s no need to worry. I was only making a quick little visit to Qian Cao.”

Luo Binghe looks abruptly even more concerned. “Shixiong’s that hurt?” he asks, like the mere fact of Shen Yuan seeking treatment himself is worrying. (Shen Yuan fidgets, feeling weirdly itchy at being so thoroughly known.)

Of course, if this ailment is what he thinks, he can not under any circumstances let on. He’d rather die a horrible drawn out death. Conveniently, Shen Yuan has another, well understood reason to sneak around. “It’s nothing too bad, I just didn’t want to let on to Shizun that something happened.” Luo Binghe’s worry doesn't quite fully clear up at that - and any that does is replaced with a soft, sullen misery.

For some reason, about a year ago, the Qing Jing Peak Lord suddenly took quite a shine to Shen Yuan. Obviously, because Shen Qingqiu apparently can’t help being the worst, it’s not the nice, normal, advantageous kind of teacher’s pet treatment. It‘s more like having an obsessively overprotective dad, if your dad also acted like he thought you were a comically oblivious idiot and could barely look at you for too long. Randomly, the peak lord decided to move him into the sideroom of the bamboo cottage - he even nags at him endlessly and turns away if Shen Yuan, gods forbid, enters one of the shared spaces with even one layer less than is proper by his insanely prude standards.

Shen Yuan has tolerated the weird treatment ever since he figured out that if he acts all cutesy (despite being nearly of marrying age at this point), he can take Shen Qingqiu’s attention and keep it off his poor shidi. It sometimes makes his skin crawl a little, but anything for Binghe to face a bit less misery. (The expensive gifts his shizun has started showering him in recently might have sweetened the deal a little too.)

When he first started really making use of this tactic, Shen Yuan had (quite miserably) expected his cute little shidi to resent him for it. While at that point, the older disciple had realised Shen Qingqiu’s unfair, malicious prejudice against the boy, poor, naive little Luo Binghe still stubbornly believed he’d be able to prove himself and change his master’s mind. Shen Yuan had thus thought, of course Luo Binghe would see his actions as something they weren’t; how many other brown-nosing shixiongs did he already have who were eager to shove him down for their own gain? Why wouldn’t he think Shen Yuan was just trying to stop Shizun from finally seeing his potential, for his own ambitions? He’d mourned the loss of a cute little martial brother following him around and constantly seeking his guidance, but decided it would be worth it to be able to offer him more protection.

Of course, he should’ve remembered just how smart his shidi was. Luo Binghe, having figured him out, had come to him distraught, sobbing his profuse thanks but insisting that Shen Yuan needn’t entertain Shizun against his own wishes, just for Luo Binghe’s sake. Shen Yuan had tried to reassure him; it wasn’t like he’d have to go on entertaining Shen Qingqiu ‘til the end of time. Only until he couldn’t be bullied anymore. The poor little lotus had wailed some nonsense about Shen Qingqiu getting tired of waiting, about Shen Yuan being chained to him forever. Seriously Binghe, I don’t think he’s going to find me amusing enough to want to literally imprison me. His comforts weren’t very effective, probably since they were accompanied by Shen Yuan’s firm insistence that he’d do anything in his power to keep his shidi from harm. Shen Yuan was left to soothe the poor boy, holding him until those unbearably tragic tears stopped flowing.

Eventually, the boy had calmed his sobs and announced, solemn, determined (and very cute) that he wouldn’t rest until he was strong enough that he could protect himself and Shen Yuan. It’s not me he was stringing up in a shed and whipping, Shidi!

Ever since then, Luo Binghe has been quite sensitive (moody) if Shen Qingqiu and Shen Yuan’s distracting him came up, even tangentially. An adorably sulky protective instinct, even if it was a bit of an overreaction in his opinion. Is it a little awful of him to exploit said overreaction to keep his current condition a secret? Maybe. Shen Yuan can’t hear his conscience weighing in on it over the urge to pinch Luo Binghe’s cheeks and coo at his pout. Of course, he doesn’t actually do it, just thinks about it really hard.

“Shixiong, I’ll walk you to Qian Cao,” Luo Binghe proclaims. While his little shidi acting protective is very cute, Shen Yuan would rather not spend time with him in this state. Binghe is clearly good at figuring things out with little information, and Shen Yuan would like as few people as humanly possible to be aware of the nature of his current affliction, for however long it remains uncured. Honestly, he’d prefer nobody to know, but unfortunately he isn’t a medical expert and can’t just treat it himself.

“Ah, thank you Binghe, but I think it’d be better for you to get some sleep so you can do your best in your training. I’ll be fine by then, so I can watch you practice and give help if you need it,” says Shen Yuan, and the confidence that he says he’ll be cured with, seems to finally convince Luo Binghe that it’s not a hugely serious issue.

“If Shixiong is certain… This Binghe will get a good night’s rest and make sure not to disappoint,” he announces, all determined, eyes sparkling under the starlight.

“Aich, Binghe could never disappoint me. I know he’s always trying his best.” Shen Yuan smiles, giving in to the temptation to pat his fluffy head, fingers running through those soft curls. “Go and sleep Binghe, and have sweet dreams.” As sweet as he can while living in that woodshed. The most Shen Yuan has been able to do about that is get him blankets, a pillow and a soft mat to sleep on, with talismans to conceal them from bullies. He holds back a sigh and gives his shidi a small smile.

Luo Binghe nods. “And Shixiong should get better as soon as possible,” he blurts, glancing away for a moment. The boy leaps forward and curls around him in a tight hug. Shen Yuan wobbles on his legs a little, growing dizzy from suddenly being pressed against a source of heat. He gently reciprocates Luo Binghe’s cuddling, ignoring any skin-crawling or stomach-tossing sensations.

Despite being so bold as to hug his shixiong without warning, Luo Binghe seems to quickly get self-conscious; he stiffens, jumps back and bows, face bright-red. “Goodnight Shen-shixiong. This shidi won’t tell anybody about your trip to Qian Cao,” he blurts and quickly darts away, in the direction of the shed. Ah, how shy my shidi is, Shen Yuan thinks and forcefully empties his mind, turning to rush off to the medical peak.

Qian Cao has little activity at such a late hour. He wanders towards the few still-lit clinic pavillions. It’s a little eerie to walk through the near-empty peak on his unsteady feet. Of course, since it’s the medical peak, it has more people awake than any of the other peaks do at night. A smaller group of the peak’s inhabitants, selected randomly and rotated often, stay up late in case of a sudden emergency.

Shen Yuan doesn’t quite know how to get someone’s attention about his issue, or what he’s supposed to say. It’s while pondering this, eyes blurry and thoughts hazy, that he bumps into someone. With his current state, it isn’t surprising he starts falling - thankfully, the one he bumped into catches him with strong, steady hands.

“Oh, my apologies- Shen-shizhi?” Mu Qingfang blinks at him. Probably uncertain because he’s only actually seen him once or twice. The peak lord’s grip on his shoulders tightens. Shen Yuan gasps and Mu Qingfang’s eyes instantly start scrutinising. “Not that Shizhi is unwelcome, but I assume this isn’t just a midnight social visit.”

“A-ah, well, Mu-shishu is correct. The thing is, it’s, uh,” he glances towards the few other Qian Cao cultivators he now notices on shift nearby, “well, it’s… I’d prefer to keep this matter private.” A look of understanding crosses Mu Qingfang’s face far too quickly. Shen Yuan shivers.

“I see. Would Shizhi like to join me in my office for a moment then?” Shen Yuan nods, flushing when his shishu interlocks their arms to lead him away. It’s miserably embarrassing that he can tell how much trouble Shen Yuan is having staying upright. The gentle, solid support is a huge comfort. He can’t help gripping onto Mu Qingfang’s bicep with his other hand. Underneath the bright, clean, clinical-yet-elegant healers’ peak lord robes, he has surprisingly firm muscles. It makes sense; he probably has to work with his hands a lot. A hot flash licks over Shen Yuan’s centre.

They step through into a smaller room. It’s not like Shen Qingqiu’s private office or, Shen Yuan assumes, most of the other peak lords’. Yes, there is a desk inside, but there’s also a bed, alongside a cabinet filled with instruments and bottles. Being the healing peak lord and the highest skilled healer in the sect, it isn’t surprising that his work space has accommodation for examining and treating patients one-on-one. Mu Qingfang walks him inside and gently pushes him down into an armchair sitting in the corner. He goes back to the door and firmly closes it, applying what’s probably a privacy talisman.

“Now,” he says, pulling a chair over to sit right across from Shen Yuan. “What seems to be the problem, Shen-shizhi?”

“Well. While returning from a nighthunt today, I had a small incident with a flower,” he starts, brushing hair out of his face. “At first I didn’t feel anything so I thought it was fine, but on the way back I started feeling really … warm. And weird.” Shen Yuan avoids eye contact. “I accidentally inhaled some of the bloom’s pollen. Maybe I’m allergic?” he asks, an unintentional pleading note entering his voice even if he knows that’s probably not the answer.

Mu Qingfang keeps his face pleasantly blank. “Based on my initial small observations, it seems more likely to be an inherent effect of inhalation than any specific allergy response. Could Shizhi describe what the flower looked like, and how he ended up inhaling the pollen?”

“It was quite small, I only caught sight of it from the corner of my eye before I stopped to look. The blossom was a deep midnight blue, almost black, spackled with little specks of a lighter blue-grey. It was weirdly simple in construction, only a single petal curled around into a sort of horn-like, sort of pitcher-like shape.” His fingers twitch, so he clasps his hands together tight. “I felt strangely entranced. Only now am I realising it was probably some sort of mind-altering effect. I suppose it compelled me to lean in for a closer look, because when a huge cloud of pale white pollen puffed out, it went straight in my face and I breathed in a massive lungful before I even realised it. Then my shidi called my name, I left and felt nothing until later in the journey.”

Only when he finishes talking does he notice the grave look on his shishu’s face. “This flower… Was it growing alongside any others - from the same or a different-looking type - or was it a lone blossom?”

“Ah, it was the only flower in the clearing. That’s why it caught my eye - or I guess why I thought it did,” he finishes off mumbling. This reply does nothing to make Mu Qingfang look less solemn.

The healer frowns deeply before speaking. “Shen-shizhi, I believe the flower you encountered was the Black Clouds’ Downpour Lily of a Thousand Tides,” he relays soberly. “They have a strong aphrodisiac effect which typically ramps up very quickly. It seems to be slower acting in you than other cases - likely because you were broken out of its trance abruptly - but I would expect it to eventually reach the same level of intensity as other cases.” He holds out a hand. “May I examine your meridians to confirm this theory?”

Shen Yuan nods, offering his wrist. He feels his cheeks heat for some reason as Mu Qingfang takes hold, pressing his thumb against Shen Yuan’s pulse point. A shudder runs through him at the probing qi entering his meridians. It feels cool, like it should be soothing the overwhelming heat, but for some reason only stokes it hotter. His fingers twitch as Mu Qingfang’s touch rubs gentle circles against his skin. It’s probably for some legitimate purpose, to stimulate his qi circulation for examination, but it just feels so … provocative. Heat pools in the pit of his stomach.

After a moment, Mu Qingfang sighs, releasing his hold. “I’m afraid it’s as I thought. You have a case of decelerated poisoning from the Black Clouds’ Downpour Lily of a Thousand Tides. Like I said, I would expect this to reach the same severity as a more ordinary case after two to three weeks. That would mean a ramping up of all the aphrodisiac effects - high body temperature, heightened sensory sensitivity, intense and continuous arousal, reduced awareness.”

Yes, Shen Yuan had assumed as much. “But there’s a cure, right?”

The healer nods, but any reassurance is curbed by his expression. “Usually, for aphrodisiac poisons like this, we have multiple different treatment paths depending on what makes sense and what a patient would prefer. Full blown antidotes, fluid transfusions or other such which counteract the poison or remove it entirely from the body. Treatments which minimise the symptoms so a person’s life can go on unimpacted until their body flushes it out on its own…” Mu Qingfang gives him a smile which, while very pleasant and probably comforting to others, does nothing for his rising anxiety.

“Unfortunately,” he continues, hand rubbing his forehead as his brows furrow a little, “the nature of this specific flower’s affliction is such that only a single treatment has been found effective. There is no antidote or viable transfusion, its effects are entirely resistant to any medicines which usually relieve such symptoms and it does not clear up eventually if left alone. Essentially, the only option is a highly technical dual cultivation based treatment.”

Shen Yuan feels his already flushed skin start burning. Theoretically, he knew this was a possibility; there are a select few rare aphrodisiacs for which even Qian Cao has not yet had proper ability to develop medicinal antidotes. Those are usually so rare though that he never seriously considered that he might even get prescribed to lose his virginity. “... Could Shishu tell me why transfusion is inviable? Not that I doubt his word, this one is only curious.”

At the question, Mu Qingfang- well he doesn’t ‘light up’, but it’s clear how much interest he has in such things as he starts to explain. “Well, the poison actually has two separate yet intertwined centres of contamination: The qi within the meridians surrounding and connected to the lower dantian, and either the semen or vaginal lubricant fluid currently being produced by the body. If it were only the former, it could be easily dealt with through some precise assisted qi circulation. Only the latter, and the soiled fluid would easily be flushed out after a few orgasms. In combination, they reinforce one another. If only treating the qi, it immediately becomes undone with the presence of even trace amounts of contaminated fluid the moment it’s left alone. If producing orgasms without addressing the qi, the body continues to produce more contaminated fluids.”

And since his mind is already so fuzzy with this heat, there’s absolutely no chance he’d be able to cleanse his qi in a probably very complex process while also jerking off to completion multiple times! He shudders. Does that mean he’ll have to do so while someone else cleanses his qi and watches? A strange bolt strikes through him.

Mu Qingfang’s words cut through his mind’s chaos as he continues: “Now ordinarily I would ask Shizhi if he would rather take the help of one of the disciples closer to his age volunteering for training in these duties, or have his preferred cultivation partner assist in the necessary procedure,” and Shen Yuan thinks he’d genuinely rather just die than have even one more person find out the sort of affliction he’s under, the sort of treatment he needs. “But I’m afraid in such a case as this, only an expert at medical dual cultivation would be able to provide treatment without a significant chance of failing or even a risk of making it worse.”

Shen Yuan blinks; before dreadful embarrassment can truly set in, he has a thought. Based on the way he was talking with such interest, the way he knows the mechanics of this seemingly rare affliction, doesn’t Shen Yuan have an expert right here with him? His mind flashes an image: Mu Qingfang in that same chair, pulled just a little closer, holding his wrist and watching with a detached, clinical eye as Shen Yuan sits there and touches himself. He unconsciously squeezes his thighs together a little.

“Shen-shizhi does still have some choice, if not as much as I’d like to be able to offer him. The treatment needs very little in the way of equipment and preparation. Either I could assist Shen-shizhi myself and we could begin straight away, or if he prefers he could stay overnight and wait to meet the other qualified healers tomorrow-”

“You!” cries Shen Yuan. He winces at how eager that sounded. “Ahaha, that is, I mean, I’d prefer to be cured sooner rather than later, and Shishu is…” he flushes, fiddling with his hair. “I only mean that a familiar person would… I’d be more…” Shen Yuan’s words fail him, trailing off into silence. He refuses to break eye contact; if he doesn’t acknowledge anything directly, it doesn’t exist. This is just a completely normal conversation about absolutely nothing unusual.

“I understand. Some prefer somebody they already have at least some level of acquaintance with. Others prefer it to be a stranger they’re less likely to encounter again after. Shizhi doesn’t need to explain himself,” Mu Qingfang says with a soft smile, slightly amused. “The poisoning should be cured after a single session.”

“That’s good,” says Shen Yuan, who hadn’t even considered that it might take more.

“Now,” says Mu Qingfang, getting to his feet. He’s so tall. Shen Yuan feels the size of a mouse. “While we do our best to maintain professionalism in cases like this, I acknowledge that such acts often hold a level of intimacy and emotional weight even in the context of medical treatment. If Shen-shizhi has any preferences, please don’t hesitate to voice them.”

Shen Yuan glances away, bites his lip. “Ah. Could this one ask, for the treatment, which … acts would be involved? Generally?”

Mu Qingfang smiles reassuringly. “Of course. To start, I’ll perform a quick examination of your prostate, with my fingers inside your anus.” The way he just says it. Shen Yuan stares down, face on fire. “I’ll examine the fine alignments of your qi, and how far the contamination goes, to determine the best course. Then I’ll cleanse your qi whilst bringing you to orgasm repeatedly - through either anal or penile stimulation depending - until your yang is depleted. Both in terms of qi and in the euphemistic sense.” So he’s going to keep going until Shen Yuan is coming dry? That’s insane. And how would his shishu get him to finish through ‘anal stimulation’?

“At that point,” Mu Qingfang continues - there’s more? - “the final stage is full penetrative dual cultivation to completion, to replenish you with my healthy, uncontaminated yang.”

So he is losing his virginity tonight. Shen Yuan is losing his virginity to a man. He never really thought that much about it, vaguely imagined meeting some faceless girl who shares his interests or something and maybe getting married. That idea has only crossed his mind probably once or twice in his whole life, but this is so different. It’s truly a shock. That must be why he suddenly feels so hazy, why his heart is fluttering uncontrollably. It’s not like he was saving it for anyone. And Mu Qingfang is a handsome man. Very considerate.

“Does Shen-shizhi have any questions or requests now, knowing this?”

Ah, it’s relevant information. Shen Yuan grits his teeth and speaks. “Shishu, I… Well, I am not in a position to really know what to ask or ask for; I’ve never done these sorts of things with another.” He glances up, to see Mu Qingfang clearly attempting to hide his surprise. “Not to say that I want Shishu to treat me differently for it, I only mentioned in case it was important in some way; I’ve heard such things sometimes matter in dual cultivation. Please, don’t hold back or anything. I’ll say if anything’s too much.” The last thing he wants is for Mu Qingfang to go all slow or gentle or whatever just because it’s his first time - even if that idea sends a little shiver down his spine. Shen Yuan just wants this humiliating affliction over with.

Mu Qingfang’s gaze suddenly feels heavy. He nods. “As you wish, Shen-shizhi.”

Shen Yuan shivers at the cool air. It’s a reflex; it isn’t doing much to actually cool his furnace of a body down. He sits slightly reclined, legs kept apart on the strange seat’s separated leg-rests. His wrists and ankles are secured, comfortable but tight with straps that confined him on their own when he finished undressing and sat down. His limbs won’t be moving.

After a moment with only his own panting breath, Mu Qingfang returns. He steps out from the sideroom. In his hands are several small bottles, along with an odd looking device. A jade ring, attached to some sort of translucent pouch. He places them on a small table and pauses to look at Shen Yuan.

“Ah good, you didn’t have any trouble then?” he asks, eyes roving over all his naked, flushed skin. Shen Yuan is sat here, completely bare, legs open, already at a half-chub, and Mu Qingfang, only a single layer lighter than usual, looks all the world as if he’s just momentarily stepped away from handling some other business to handle him.

“N-no, none.” mumbles Shen Yuan, burning under the healer’s gaze.

“That’s good,” says Mu Qingfang. He brings the small table closer, pulls up a stool to sit before Shen Yuan’s lower half. His eyes lock to a spot just out of the disciple’s sight. Shen Yuan shivers. Tries futilely to rub his thighs together, stopped firmly by the restraints.

Mu Qingfang grabs a few small paper talismans from the little table. Before Shen Yuan can ask what they’re for, he feels one get applied to him down there. Tingles rush along his skin going straight inside him. He gasps.

“No need to be worried, it’s just a cleaning talisman. Not that I think Shizhi has poor hygiene; it’s standard procedure,” Mu Qingfang remarks softly, applying more of those talismans to his own hands, those bottles and the strange device on a jade ring.

“What’s that pouch?” he asks. Then he notices the size of it and blanches at his first thought.

“Does Shizhi remember that the poison has contaminated his semen?” Mu Qingfang responds, holding the pouch by the ring, showing its full length. “This is a simple spiritual device to collect the tainted semen without letting any escape. It prevents immediate reinfection and preserves the fluid as a sample to be studied afterwards,” he says with a faint twinkle of amusement. “I imagine you can tell where it is to be used.” Shen Yuan nods, looking away.

The healer pushes his stool closer. He lays a steady hand on Shen Yuan’s thigh. Squeezes just a little, before stroking the sensitive skin quite firmly. Shen Yuan’s pillar bobs in the air - when did it get fully hard? Mu Qingfang glances at it, giving a small nod. Without a word, he takes it in hand. Shen Yuan can’t stop a whimper from escaping.

Quickly and efficiently, the healer slides the verdant ring down his length, right to the root. He gently taps it and the loop shrinks. For half a moment Shen Yuan panics, but the ring and pouch both only become perfectly snug against his skin. He can’t help pouting a little when Mu Qingfang’s hand moves away without another touch.

“Now Shen-shizhi,” he says, resuming his confident, almost proprietary grip on Shen Yuan’s thigh. “If you could try to relax for me, that would make this even easier,” and Shen Yuan knows his mind is in a state at the moment but he can’t help thinking Mu-shishu thinks I’m easy!

Trying to shake the thought off, Shen Yuan does his best to obey. It’s a little weird to even be thinking about those muscles outside of when he needs to ‘go’, but it’s easy enough to twitch down there. A little shiver when he notices where Mu Qingfang’s eyes are firmly glued. He tenses, then tries his best to let it go with a big breath out.

Mu Qingfang smiles. “Very good,” he says and picks up one of those bottles to pour some of its contents on his dominant hand’s index and ring fingers - places it back on the table with the stopper still out. He leans in and rubs gently against Shen Yuan’s hole. It takes only a moment for him to relax even further - far enough that one of those fingertips seems to slip inside by accident.

The sensation is weird. Not painful, or alien or even especially uncomfortable. It just feels so weird. Something deliberately going in, somewhere he’s only thought of as a place stuff comes out of before today.

Those fingertips slowly push further in. Trying to distract himself, Shen Yuan stares up at Mu Qingfang, who is staring in turn down at his stretched open hole while slowly probing further inside. Occasionally, he pulls his fingers out a little before pushing them back in. It’s a strangely pleasantly strange feeling. He starts to wonder how Mu Qingfang feels being on the other end of it when-

“Nn,” he spasms as those fingers find something that forces a little moan from him. “What was…?”

Mu Qingfang hums wordlessly, his gaze sharpening. He brings his free hand to Shen Yuan’s lower abdomen, spreading his fingers wide and pressing against the softness. The warmth in the pit of Shen Yuan’s stomach burns hotter. His hands are so big, it spans more than two thirds across his body width.

The healer does something with his qi and presses down harder. For some reason, it has the disciple gasping. Then he presses down inside. Shen Yuan squirms against his restraints futilely. All he can do is jerk back against those fingers a tiny amount. The tiny bit of friction he gets from it is so disproportionately good, he keeps on with the little motion, gyrating back and forth, probably only a fingernail’s length.

He only notices that his eyes are closed and his head thrown back when he hears a deep chuckle and has to open them to look. Mu Qingfang is watching him with an indulgent look, like he finds it cute. “I’m glad Shizhi is enjoying himself,” he comments with another laugh. With a final gentle pulse of qi, he moves his hand from Shen Yuan’s stomach back to his thigh.

“Hmm,” Mu Qingfang’s brow furrows in thought for a moment. Then his expression clears with a small nod. “With the position of the affected qi, we’ll need to stick to anal stimulation for the first stage … though based on Shizhi’s reactions, it doesn’t seem he’ll find it too much of a hardship,” he finishes with a slightly raised brow.

“Wh- why does it feel so good?” mumbles the disciple. “I had no idea it would be like this.” Shen Yuan shudders as Mu Qingfang’s fingers grip his thigh a little harder.

“... It’s lucky that it seems Shen-shizhi’s body is already predisposed to enjoy this treatment,” murmurs Mu Qingfang before sighing deeply. “Is Shizhi ready, or is there anything you need beforehand? Once we start, it’d be ideal to not have to stop again until you’re cured, unless we absolutely have to.”

Blinking, Shen Yuan takes a moment to think. He reaches his answer quickly: “No I don’t need anything. I’m ready.”

“Excellent,” says the healer with a pleasant smile. Shen Yuan feels a strange stirring of qi from where Mu Qingfang’s fingers are inside him. He belatedly realises they were still inside him while they spoke. “Keep relaxing for me now Shizhi,” he says as he pulls his fingers a little out and pours some more of that lubricating liquid on them. After half a moment he pushes them back in, to where they were before.

Shen Yuan squeaks; Mu Qingfang starts rubbing right against his prostate. Hard. It’s just on the edge of too much. Shen Yuan can’t help trying to shrink away from the stimulation - uselessly thanks to the straps. He can’t escape it, just has to sit here and take it.

Panting, Shen Yuan opens his eyes - he closed them again. Over him, Mu Qingfang is still staring down at his hole. As Shen Yuan moves, his shishu glances at his face. His eyes flash for an instant, as that intense scrutiny appears again.

(Mu Qingfang stares at the disciple in his hands. A treat of a sight. Visibly shivering whenever his fingers stroke that sensitive spot harder, or he grabs him with a bit more force. Face flushed all over, teary eyes turning red. His lips are bitten a pretty pink, pouting slightly like he’s being bullied. Mu Qingfang’s fingers grip his soft thigh tighter again. Calm down. Focus. Concentrate on making this enjoyable for Shen Yuan too. He takes another deep breath. Decides to test out some ideas, see how he can … enhance his shizhi’s pleasure a little.)

A moment after his fingers tighten again, Mu Qingfang sighs once more. A flicker of worry. Is Shen Yuan doing something wrong? As he starts to fret, the healer leans closer, body looming over him. Something inside him coils tighter - he squirms. Mu Qingfang hums to himself softly - what’s that about?

Mu Qingfang’s hand strokes his thigh, up and down in time with his fingers’ motions. Each time, Shen Yuan feels him getting closer to brushing the base of his… Fingers brush his lower stomach and dip away again. He bites his lip. Lets out a whine as they trail past without touching again.

“You’re doing so well already,” murmurs Mu Qingfang. “Being so good for your shishu,” and Shen Yuan whimpers. His shishu’s eyes sharpen. He strokes inside Shen Yuan faster, deeper. “Oh? Does Shizhi enjoy being a good boy for me? So eager he couldn’t wait, so obedient, undressing himself for me. What a treat, to have such a keen, pretty disciple open and willing in my hands,” he says, punctuating with a sharp jab directly to his prostate. Shen Yuan shrieks and comes, slipping over the edge suddenly.

For a moment, the heat enveloping him softens into a pleasant, syrupy warmth. Shen Yuan goes limp, eyes closed, heaving a big, sated sigh. He notices a specific point of warmth: The device wrapped over him down there. It stays warm for a second, and when it cools he can’t feel any wetness. That must’ve been it ‘collecting’.

“Good, that’s good,” says Mu Qingfang, breaching the foggy pool of contentment. Something brushes against his face. He opens his eyes. Mu Qingfang pats his cheek a few more times with his free hand. Then, slowly, he pulls his fingers out of the disciple’s hole, resting them on the outside to maintain the qi purification. Shen Yuan groans softly at the empty feeling.

He hears a soft clink, glances over. Mu Qingfang just grabbed one of the other bottles, one with a narrower neck - he’s opening it with his teeth.

“What’s…” Shen Yuan mumbles, trailing off. Mu Qingfang smiles. He puts the bottle down for a second to take the stopper out his mouth and put it next to the lubricant’s larger stopper.

“Ah, in dual cultivation techniques similar to the one we’re using, this,” - he holds up the newly opened bottle - “makes for a prudent aid, with multiple possible uses, after the first orgasm.”

“Oh.” Shen Yuan’s mouth twists a little in confusion. “ ‘Multiple possible uses’ ?”

Rather than answer, Mu Qingfang leans forward holding the bottle out. He tips a few drops out onto Shen Yuan’s right nipple.

“What?!” he shrieks, voice high from the sudden cold. Mu Qingfang doesn’t reply immediately, quickly moving to pour some out on the other side too. “Why did you do that?” He tips his head as far forward as he can. The liquid looks purple-ish. With no explanation offered, Mu Qingfang puts the bottle down then reaches forth to the right side and starts rubbing it in. “Shishu what are you- ahn, why, what- what is this?” His whole body trembles. He keeps trying to flinch away from the sensory attack to no avail.

Little moans keep escaping him. The healer pauses only to move to the other side and repeat. The noises he’s pulling from Shen Yuan are really too embarrassing. Biting his lip doesn’t help, just muffles the sounds through his throat making them sound somehow even more obscene. It’s intense. Overwhelming. Heavenly.

When he finally does stop for real, Shen Yuan almost wishes he wouldn’t. He twists his neck to take a peek at the damage: Stiff, swollen and flushed… Not a hint of that purple on them anymore. A vague nagging suspicion hooks the back of his mind.

Then his chest starts tingling and those fingers push back inside smoothly. Shen Yuan shudders. Whines. His mouth falls open, breath heavy. A torrent of tiny ghost touches, prickling that sensitive skin, the peaked buds.

“There we go: Shishu knew you’d enjoy it,” Mu Qingfang murmurs, rubbing soothing circles over his lower stomach. “I’m sure Shizhi already figured out its purpose, adding a little sensitivity to make it feel better. Just relax, Shishu promises he knows what’s best for you.”

And Shen Yuan can’t exactly argue; it feels really good. “Th-this one will trust in-nh, Shishu’s care.” His stomach flutters at the pleased smile his words bring to Mu Qingfang’s face.

“Ah, what a good boy,” he says indulgently. Then he leans close again, ‘til his face hovers over the disciple’s tender chest. Shen Yuan flushes; he’s just staring.

Mu Qingfang blows gently over skin - Shen Yuan gasps. The cold air licks at him, makes him tremble. He strains against the restraints, unintentionally pushing his chest upwards and outwards. Leaning even closer, the healer props his hand underneath and traps Shen Yuan in the position. Lips hover half a breath away. He squeezes his fingers into fists, squeezes against Mu Qingfang’s fingers.

“See, isn’t it good?” Mu Qingfang breathes softly.

He parts his lips, leans closer and - “oh,” - brushes them against the stiff bud. Then he takes it between them and Shen Yuan writhes. A tongue swirls against him, fingers fondling his insides torturously slow. The hand beneath holding him strokes his back. His mind feels buried under a heap of sensation, the wet warmth of Mu Qingfang’s mouth engulfing it all.

Shishu’s teeth graze against him, making Shen Yuan squeak. He pulls back to huff, murmuring “I’ve never seen it draw such a strong reaction. It’s like Shizhi’s body is made for this,” then he bites down and Shen Yuan squeals as he slips over another sudden peak. Mu Qingfang is really good at making him feel good - he flushes.

This time, he glances down and notices the pouch and ring are glowing with the momentary warmth as the device does its duty. Unlike the first time, Mu Qingfang barely gives him time to breathe before starting to chase out another climax.

It feels like they go on for days. Mu Qingfang grabbing, pinching at his flesh, (even biting!). After each peak he uses those bottles in a new, mind-blowing way. One feels hot as melted wax but leaves no mark, one like rubbing ice over his skin. Another that feels like a thousand fingers stroking his body. Another that burns and prickles skin like spiciness in his mouth. By the end, he’s had all of them poured into his stretched open hole, sniffling brokenly. Each time he comes, that device drains his seed away - each time it glows a little dimmer, warms a little less.

Finally, he climaxes with a wretched sob and it doesn’t react whatsoever. Shen Yuan barely even notices it ‘til Mu Qingfang’s pleased hum.

“And with that, the poison is completely cleansed from your system.” He smiles, reaching and wiping tears away with his thumb. “Shen-shizhi did very well. Now all we have left to do is replenish your yang and we’ll be all done,” he says, still stroking Shen Yuan’s cheek, his stuttered sobs slowing as the concoctions’ many effects start to wear off. Mu Qingfang removes his fingers from his hole, prompting a bereft whimper. The soft caressing touch on his face doesn’t erase the horrible emptiness.

With one last gentle pet to his cheek, Mu Qingfang stands up and pushes his stool away. He peels the device from Shen Yuan’s member - the jade ring flashes and twists itself closed as the healer places it beside the many torture-bottles. Then he reaches for the chair, down out of Shen Yuan’s sight. Suddenly the chair contraption gets taller and his legs are pulled even wider open. He chokes on a laugh when he realises he’s now at perfect hip height. What kind of freaky sex chair-?! If literally any other person had this, he’d just assume they were incurably lecherous or something.

Then the healer simply parts his robes to pull out his length. It’s … big. Flushed a vivid, angry red, stood thick, straight and bobbing in the air. Pearly droplets are already beading at the tip. Shen Yuan swallows. Even with all the vigorous stretching he can’t help wondering, will that even fit?

Scanning up Mu Qingfang’s body to his face, Shen Yuan is starkly reminded just how clothed he is compared to Shen Yuan’s bared, bitten, wholly flushed flesh. Naked and debauched, meanwhile Mu Qingfang is adorned in his crisp, dignified peak lord’s garb. If someone else walked in, they might think him some wanton slut, tied down in here for this grand cultivator lord to come take pleasure from whenever he pleases. Stood over him, his shishu looks him up and down in turn. His perfectly neutral expression is just barely betrayed by a flicker in his eye.

Something surges inside him. “Shishu, don’t just keep me waiting,” he whines, surprising himself with how petulant he sounds. Mu Qingfang’s lip twitches - so does his pillar. Shen Yuan stares, eyes wide, as he reaches down and takes himself in hand.

“My apologies Shizhi,” he says roughly, with a crooked little smile. Shifting closer, he taps his tip against Shen Yuan’s entrance.

He moans weakly as Mu Qingfang steadily pushes into him, hands moving to grab his waist. Even with all that before, the stretch feels intense by comparison. His shishu moves slowly, sending a syrupy swoop of pleasure through Shen Yuan’s gut as it grazes over his thoroughly tortured prostate.

Eventually Mu Qingfang bottoms out. Shen Yuan shudders as he feels the fabric pressing against his skin. Fully hilted, Mu Qingfang holds dead still. He doesn’t say a word, just stares at Shen Yuan’s face.

Shen Yuan pouts. He wriggles a little, desperate for friction. Lifts his hips in the air a little and grinds back. Flushes when he realises he’s writhing on his shishu’s cock.

“Has Shizhi acclimated then?” Mu Qingfang asks hoarsely, hands squeezing tight. “I wouldn’t want to cause him any discomfort.”

With a breath, Shen Yuan shudders. Is he going to make me beg for it?! He bites his lip. Swallows, mustering the shamelessness to answer. “Y-yes, Shishu can move,” he says, voice breathy.

A sharp gasp. Fingertips dig into his sensitive flesh. Mu Qingfang stares him down as he pulls back to just the tip. Then he drives inside. Shen Yuan would almost swear he’s being split wide open. His shishu takes him slow, deep and hard. It feels almost proprietary; the disciple is just a toy laying there for Mu Qingfang to fuck into all leisurely, savouring the feeling.

When a thrust nails that raw, sensitive spot inside, Shen Yuan wraps his legs round his shishu’s waist. Only then does he have the delayed realisation that the straps released at some point. For a moment after he just stays laying under the onslaught. Then Shen Yuan shuffles - gets a hand behind him and pushes his upper body upright. Closer up, he stares into Mu Qingfang’s eyes. The healer’s lips quirk as he doesn’t falter even slightly.

Shen Yuan throws his other arm over that broad, covered shoulder. Leaning further against him, the disciple whines; the unwavering thrusts make his poor nipples scrape against the fabric. His teeth itch. Shen Yuan buries his face against Mu Qingfang’s neck to muffle the choked gasps he can’t keep inside. Those hands squeeze at his waist again, making him squeal. In retaliation, his lips latch to Mu Qingfang’s neck. The skin is slightly salty from all the exertion.

Without a second thought, Shen Yuan starts gnawing on his shishu’s skin relentlessly. One hand staying latched round his shoulders, the other sets off exploring. Fingers trail along Mu Qingfang’s arm, landing back at his bicep. Shen Yuan gropes his tense forearm shamelessly, whining and biting against his throat.

The only warning he gets is a faint rumble he feels against his chest - then the world flips out from underneath him. He shrieks, limbs squeezing him tight against his shishu. Mu Qingfang carries Shen Yuan, still seated on his cock, across the room. Shen Yuan feels the wall press against his back and has half a moment of confusion before Mu Qingfang truly takes him entirely apart in a haze of feverish lust.

Afterwards, Mu Qingfang offers for him to go to his house and use his bed for the night, with him joining after the shift finishes. Shen Yuan is sorely tempted, but he imagines Shen Qingqiu’s reaction to him sneaking out and spending the night somewhere else, and refuses - reassuring his shishu several times that he's fine to return home by himself even at this hour. He sets off back to his peak, plugged full with another spiritual device, walking over the bridges on legs wobbly for slightly different reasons than before.

Shen Yuan shudders, blinking himself away from last week’s memories. The middle of supervising a group sword practice session is not the time for reminiscing on that!

“Very well done, Binghe!” he praises as Luo Binghe executes a complicated spin. Shen Yuan showed it to him, but of course he makes it look far more fierce and dashing than Shen Yuan ever could.

Luo Binghe lights up with a cute grin - Shen Yuan’s fingers twitch with cheek-pinching energy again. “Thanking Shixiong for his instruction!”

“Now try that third one out,” he says, smiling fondly as his shidi immediately starts on it.

“Shixiong,” one of the older disciples calls out. “This shidi is certain he’s right. Isn’t Yan-shixiong doing it wrong?”

“I’m not. Shen-shixiong, watch!”

He turns to look, just in time to see the disciple being pointed to trip over his own training sword. “Yan-shidi!” That footwork was ridiculous. Yan Xu is only a couple years younger than him. Shouldn’t he know better than this? Shen Yuan hadn’t figured his crowd would be the ones to watch for injuries.

Yan Xu falls flat on the ground and groans. Shen Yuan rushes over and pulls him upright. “Ughhh, my ankle,” he moans. He winces when pulled up to his feet.

Frowning, Shen Yuan glances to the next oldest disciple besides him present. “Ji-shimei,” she nods. “You’re in charge until I return. Have the more experienced disciples demonstrate the techniques one at a time, with everyone else observing and critiquing.” She nods again, looking mildly confused. “I’ll accompany Yan-shidi to Qian Cao,” he explains, forcing down a wince. He didn’t say it that weirdly. Nobody would notice anything wrong - there isn’t anything wrong. He throws Yan Xu’s arm over his shoulder. “You all, be good and listen to your shijie,” he calls, to a round of nods from the group.

“Shen-shixiong,” pipes up Luo Binghe, right at his side. “This shidi will accompany you, in case Shixiong needs someone to run back with a message.”

Really, his shidi is too helpful. It seemed like he’s already got the techniques at hand down to an art, so Shen Yuan is fine indulging his eagerness to assist. “Thanking Binghe,” he says, nodding.

The three make their way, with Yan Xu quietly nursing his wounded pride and Luo Binghe asking his shixiong for his advice on the randomest topics.

“Ah Binghe, I’m sorry but I haven’t got nearly enough experience to give you much advice on that sort of thing,” he blusters, running his fingers through his hair to make sure it’s all flat. He wouldn’t be surprised if just the conversation topic has it looking all unruly. Why would he have any advice for courting that would be useful to Luo Binghe?

“Shen-shixiong’s insight is profound, this shidi would be grateful for even a shred of his knowledge.”

Shen Yuan covers his face with his hand bashfully. Really, there’s no need for such flattery. He frowns in thought. “Well, I suppose spending time together is important. If your conversations are enjoyable and you wish for hi-their company often, it helps you be certain you get along… Ah, thoughtful gifts? If you notice a certain problem, or annoyance, or unmet preference in their life, something to help with it would make a good present. It shows you’re considerate, that you pay them enough attention to notice those kinds of things. A hairstick or something if it always gets in their face, a cloak if they complain often about the colder weather, a better book if all the ones they can access on their favourite topic are lackluster. That sort of thing just sounds nice to me,” he sighs.

When he turns to look at the other two, Yan Xu is staring at him with awe. “That’s so romantic! I never thought he would… Shixiong sounds like he has quite a lot of experience,” he says approvingly, with a strange, teasing tone.

“Ah, no. Not at all. Never in real life… I only imagined what I might want someone to do for me if I were in that position,” he says, grinning a little forcedly. Yan Xu deflates, demeanour quickly switching from admiration to baffling but equally intense sympathy.

Luo Binghe looks at him with something strange in his eyes, something much less easily decipherable - miserable and soft simultaneously. He smiles a precious little smile. “Shixiong’s ideas are always brilliant. He deserves the best treatment.”

“Agh, what are you talking about Binghe? Here we are, anyway,” he says, hurrying them off towards the pavillions - surreptitiously brushing off his robes on the way. It’s important to show off a good image to the other peaks, after all.

When they get inside, he speaks to a very polite, diligent shimei. She offers for Yan Xu to be examined in private, an opportunity he takes gleefully. To be on the safe side, Shen Yuan figures they should wait around until Yan Xu’s condition has been determined. If he can come back, it wouldn’t do for Shen Yuan to leave him to walk back all on his own with an injured ankle. The older disciple decides he and Luo Binghe should wait on him near the entrance, so as not to be in the way.

Shen Yuan’s eyes dart off when he catches a tall figure entering: It’s Mu Qingfang. He gawks for a moment, then catches himself and quickly looks away, bodily turning around. Luo Binghe doesn’t, glancing back and forth between the peak lord and his shixiong. It takes everything in Shen Yuan to not insist he stop looking. There’s no reason to be so paranoid. He hasn’t done anything wrong, he’s just … having some feelings. Ugh. He tugs the shoulders of his robes, subtly making sure they’re not crooked. Is he blushing? He can’t tell. His cheeks feel warm.

A throat clears behind him. Shen Yuan turns to see Mu Qingfang looking at him. “Shen-shizhi, greetings,” he says with a genial smile.

“Shishu,” he nods. “It’s, ah, good to see you.”

“Oh, have you found any further issues in the past week? I thought he was fully cured, but if Shizhi needs further treatment, I’d certainly oblige,” he says, all serious and sincere.

Shen Yuan is definitely blushing. “Oh, no, not at all. You did an excellent job!” he blurts. Well that just sounds like I’m complimenting his bedroom skills! He feels himself flushing further and quickly diverts. “I only came to accompany someone to get examined. A small training accident.”

“Hmm. A pity,” - WHAT - “I’d appreciate an opportunity to speak to Shen-shizhi again.” Ah. He meant he wants another conversation. He just phrased it suggestively. Butterflies flitter in the disciple’s stomach.

Shen Yuan looks at the ground, brushing an annoyingly stubborn strand of hair back behind his ear. “If Shishu would appreciate another conversation, this shizhi would be happy to come speak whenever.” Is that too bold? All-but inviting himself to visit, when it might’ve just been small talk.

“If Shizhi is free later this afternoon, he should come by for tea,” says Mu Qingfang. The peak lord gives him a small smile - he might even dare call it fond. “I’ve heard Shen-shizhi is considered something of an expert on demonic beasts and plants amongst his peers. I’d be interested to hear more.”

Oh gods. Mu-shishu’s been hearing rumours about him. But that’s not important right now. “I’d be delighted to come along - though compared to Shishu, I’m sure my knowledge is petty.”

“Nonsense,” he chuckles. “I also got the impression Shizhi was interested in the theory behind the remedy he received last time.”

At this point, someone could probably cook food off of Shen Yuan’s red-hot cheeks. “M-maybe…” he murmurs, twisting hair around one of his fingers. “It’s quite. Interesting.”

“Oh, I just remembered, here,” says Mu Qingfang, suddenly holding a white ribbon out. “I saw this and thought would look nice in Shizhi’s hair.”

It’s quite thick, made of a soft-looking material. Shen Yuan slowly reaches forward to take it. The delicate appearance belies its make; to the touch, it’s clearly a very sturdy ribbon. Shen Yuan twists it between his fingers.

“Oh,” he murmurs, staring at the small gift. “Thanking Shishu very much for the gift,” Shen Yuan adds, unable to completely hide the giddy little smile fighting its way to his face

“Shixiong,” suddenly calls Luo Binghe. Quite loudly. Indoor voices, Binghe. “Yan-shixiong has returned.”

Oh, so he has. “Is Shidi well?”

Yan Xu stares for a moment. Then he nods, eyes unfocused. “Yes Shixiong, it was only a small sprain. Thank you for coming along with me. Shen-shixiong is very reliable,” he says, raising his brows.

“We should get back to Qing Jing, right Shixiong?” asks Luo Binghe. Ah, always so eager to get back to work, that one. A bit too eager sometimes.

“I suppose so,” he mumbles, looking down. “Mu-shishu, I…”

Mu Qingfang smiles. “Shishu will send a disciple to fetch Shen-shizhi when it’s time.”

“Then … until later, Shishu,” Shen Yuan says softly.

“Farewell for now, Shen-shizhi,” the peak lord replies, reaching for his face. He blinks as Mu Qingfang brushes his hair back behind his ear again. Shen Yuan flushes, turns and rushes away.

“Will Shixiong be volunteering to taxi people to Qian Cao whenever necessary from now on then?” asks Yan Xu, his teasing tone hitting its mark this time.

“Yan-shidi!” he yelps, covering the other’s mouth. “Quiet.”

“This shidi’s lips are sealed,” he says, eyes sparkling, partially muffled by Shen Yuan.

They walk the rest of the way quietly - though he feels Yan Xu’s overly enthusiastic looks all the way… At least if he knows about Shen Yuan’s little crush, he isn’t being mean about it. Luo Binghe is uncharacteristically quiet all the way. At the peak gates, Yan Xu reiterates his promise not to tell anyone before rushing off to however he wants to spend the little time before lunch.

“Shixiong,” Luo Binghe says.

“Yes Binghe?” Shen Yuan pays close attention, trying to figure out what’s bothering his shidi.

“This shidi would like to prepare you a lunch - one hopefully more appealing than Qing Jing’s usual fare.”

Oh! He’s noticed Luo Binghe speaking like he knows how to cook once or twice before. The idea of a tasty meal has him salivating already. He doesn’t have much reason - save Luo Binghe’s innate work ethic - to be certain that his shidi’s cooking will be better. But almost anything would be better than the bland, bland and more bland that the entire menu of the scholars’ peak consists of.

Still… He pats Luo Binghe’s head. “Shidi doesn’t have to.”

“This shidi knows,” says Luo Binghe, with one of those cutely determined looks that tells him he’s absolutely being made a lunch today. Shen Yuan laughs.

“Very well then,” he replies, amused, following along when Luo Binghe starts walking with purpose.

I wonder if Mu-shishu will have snacks later.