Chapter Text
Shen Qingqiu pinches the bridge of his nose. “So wait. Do you mean to tell me that Luo Binghe—the protagonist, the baddest bitch to ever kill his way out of the Abyss—isn’t conquering the demonic realm?”
“No!” Shang Qinghua says, looking ready to tear his hair out. “He’s like—encouraging trade and shit. Telling demons not to kill humans! He’s a one-man diplomatic service between the human and demonic realms!”
“What the fuck,” Shen Qingqiu says blankly.
“I know, right?” Shang Qinghua says, waving his arms wildly. “I mean, I guess I should have seen this coming. After he didn’t go into the Abyss, I, uh, basically arranged internships for him?”
“Please, my son, he needs an internship,” Shen Qingqiu mutters in spite of himself.
“Fuck, I’ve missed memes,” Shang Qinghua says with a nostalgic look. “Anyway, my point is: he’s got contacts in both the human and demonic realms. But he’s not conquering, and he’s not making marriage alliances. The only person my son seems to be boning down with is you, and I can’t tell whether that’s good or bad.”
“Please never call him that again,” Shen Qingqiu says tiredly. “And I think it’s—well, probably bad? He asked me if I believed in fated mates.”
Shang Qinghua stares at him in morbid fascination. “Luo Binghe. Asked you if you believed in fated mates.”
Shen Qingqiu groans. “He wants to claim me,” he confesses. He has to hide his face behind his sleeve to get the next part out. “And I—want him to do it.”
“Bro,” Shang Qinghua says meaningfully. “God, tell me you have some booze in here, I can’t keep being sober while you tell me how you’re straight up cribbing from my most popular unfinished fic.”
“Oh my god,” Shen Qingqiu says, and goes to root through the kitchen.
When he finally gets up the nerve to ask Luo Binghe about it, Luo Binghe is remarkably nonchalant.
“Shibo said it was better when there was more trade and less killing,” he says, sounding eminently reasonable as he explains all the work he has done. “It is taking longer than I thought to fulfill Shibo’s mating challenge, though, even with Shibo’s help.”
“Mating challenge?” Shen Qingqiu repeats faintly. What the fuck—what mating challenge, he never issued any such thing! He just—-complained and was sad. About Tianlang-jun’s sealing. Right after Luo Binghe knotted him for the first time.
Shen Qingqiu is such a fucking idiot.
“Not that this lowly alpha is complaining,” Luo Binghe hastens to assure him. “Of course Shibo as a peak lord is more than entitled to set such a challenge for this alpha to prove himself worthy.”
“Binghe—I didn’t mean for you to do this,” Shen Qingqiu says.
Luo Binghe goes still. “What does Shibo mean?” he asks, his tone measured.
Fuck, there’s no way to walk this back. And he’s not actually sorry that Luo Binghe is trying to improve relations between the two realms. That can only be a net positive in his book. “It’s just that Binghe has nothing to prove. This omega knows he is worthy.”
Luo Binghe smiles at him, and it’s like the fucking sun shining on him. “Just the same, I would never disrespect Shibo by not proving to him and everyone that this lowly alpha can stand by his side,” he says primly. Then his gaze goes a little darker. “Of course, if this is how Shibo feels, surely there’s no obstacle to Shibo claiming this Binghe first?”
“Your rut is months off,” Shen Qingqiu points out, for the tenth time. “I’m far more likely to go into heat first.”
Luo Binghe doesn’t look at all perturbed by that. “What if we agree that whoever goes into heat or rut first will be claimed first?” he says mildly, gaze calculating.
Shen Qingqiu is very sure he does not like being on the business end of Luo Binghe’s manipulative diplomacy. Still, it’s a bet he’s willing to take. There’s absolutely no way that Luo Binghe is going into an off-cycle rut, no matter how attached he’s feeling at the moment. And Mu Qingfang expects Shen Qingqiu to go into a pretty fucking violent heat basically any day now, so Luo Binghe can just claim him like every other omega in his eventual harem, and then surely come to his senses about wanting Shen Qingqiu to claim him in turn.
“Fine,” Shen Qingqiu says eventually. And to his credit as a diplomat, Luo Binghe gives away nothing about how he feels about that, besides a very, very slight smile. “But Binghe—what have you learned about the seal on your demonic blood?”
“It’s unlikely to last much longer,” Luo Binghe says. “Mobei-jun says he could destroy it now, but it’s also likely to dissolve naturally, which may be—less traumatic.”
First of all, Shen Qingqiu is not over the fact that Luo Binghe convinced Mobei-jun to start making money hand over fist by expanding trade routes, without needing to beat the shit out of him first. Second, the idea that Mobei-jun maybe gives a shit about how much damage forcibly destroying Luo Binghe’s seal could cause is mind-boggling.
“If that’s the case, what will we do when Binghe’s heritage is exposed? What if the sect doesn’t accept it?” Shen Qingqiu asks, tapping his closed fan against the table.
“We?” Luo Binghe repeats, a dreamy expression on his face. “I like that.”
“Focus, Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says sternly, which is immediately undercut by Luo Binghe pulling Shen Qingqiu onto his lap.
“If Cang Qiong will not accept us, this alpha will provide a home on the borderlands, to Shibo’s exact specifications,” Luo Binghe says, and this asshole probably already has plans sketched out in exhausting detail. “Though I hope it will not come to that. I know Shibo loves Qing Jing, and this disciple feels responsible for Bai Zhan. And if Shibo has claimed me—well. That changes things, doesn’t it?”
Shen Qingqiu opens his mouth to argue the point, because again, there’s just no way that Luo Binghe is going to want him to go through with it. But Luo Binghe has a point. “A claim—one way or the other—is a point in our favor,” he says. If the sect leader or any of the peak lords balked at Luo Binghe’s demon blood, the threat of Shen Qingqiu walking was a powerful one.
“Perhaps the work I am doing to fulfill Shibo’s mating challenge will sway them, as well,” Luo Binghe says, sounding quite upbeat. “Although, many things would be easier if I could just officially negotiate on behalf of the sect,” he adds, almost to himself.
“One thing at a time,” Shen Qingqiu says wryly. “Let’s work on not being exiled first before you take over the sect leader’s job.”
There’s a gleam in Luo Binghe’s eyes that doesn’t bode well. “As Shibo wishes,” he says.
Of course, Luo Binghe goes into rut first.
Of course! Like, whatever possessed him to bet against the protagonist’s halo? He's such an idiot.
It’s deep winter now, and the disciple from Bai Zhan who comes to fetch him is covered in a dusting of snow. “Shen-shibo,” she greets him, after Ning Yingying announces her arrival. “Our head disciple requires assistance.”
Shen Qingqiu puts down his writing brush with a click. “How far along is he?” he asks, standing up and going to grab a few necessary items. Mu Qingfang already gave him the talk, and supplied him with a mild aphrodisiac to mimic heat symptoms to make him more comfortable.
The Bai Zhan disciple coughs politely. “It hit him very suddenly,” she says. “Shen-shibo should come right away, if he is willing to assist. If it’s inconvenient, we can make other arrangements.”
The idea that anyone else would touch Luo Binghe makes him instinctively snarl, and the Bai Zhan disciple holds up her hands in peace. “I’ll escort Shen-shibo as soon as he is ready,” she says meekly.
Coming from a big alpha girl who could probably break him in half, it’s a little disconcerting. In the background, he sees Ning Yingying making calf eyes at their visitor. What the fuck is happening on Cang Qiong?
They arrive at Bai Zhan after flying through an unpleasant snowstorm. Luo Binghe’s quarters appear silent from the outside, with no hint of qi, demonic or otherwise, which means that Luo Binghe still had enough sense to put up talismans before holing up in his den. Shen Qingqiu knocks, and calls out, “Binghe? Can I come in?”
Luo Binghe opens the door just a crack, enough to see that it’s him, and then opens it further to drag him in before shutting it firmly and latching it. “Shibo,” he says, and his pupils are blown wide. “Shibo, I feel a little—weird.”
“Yes, you’re in rut,” Shen Qingqiu says, and allows Luo Binghe to pull at his collar to get to his scent glands. “Come, let this omega make himself ready for you.”
“Shibo is ready,” Luo Binghe mutters, and nibbles at his neck.
Shen Qingqiu manages to push him away for long enough to take the aphrodisiac pill Mu Qingfang had supplied him, and to take off his robes, which are warm and very nice and he doesn’t much care to have them damaged. Luo Binghe is astonishingly patient through this, but then he herds Shen Qingqiu to bed as soon as he’s taken off the last of his clothing.
“Shibo,” Luo Binghe croons, and eases him onto what is definitely a new bed. It’s bigger, and it doesn’t smell like Shen Qingqiu. He huffs in displeasure and scents it hurriedly with his wrists.
It’s different to be the focus of someone in rut; of course Shen Qingqiu has been around alphas in rut before, but generally, they seclude themselves in short order or make use of blockers until they can do so. But to be here with Luo Binghe, to be the one pulled into his den, to be the only thing Luo Binghe is interested in at the moment, is really something else. But for all of that, Luo Binghe isn’t what he would call aggressive; he just has a very one-track mind at the moment.
“What a good alpha,” Shen Qingqiu says when Luo Binghe eases his dick inside. Luo Binghe is already pretty far gone; he seems to be responding only to Shen Qingqiu’s scent and the sound of his voice, and the rest is occupied with fucking him with quick, desperate thrusts, and then bit by bit, Luo Binghe’s demonic features unveil themselves. His eyes go red, his fangs drop, his nails sharpen into claws.
Luo Binghe’s seal dissolves gently and easily when he comes, his knot securely inside Shen Qingqiu as the mark of heavenly demons reveals itself on his forehead. Shen Qingqiu read a number of manuals on dual cultivation, and they didn’t exactly say what to do in cases of one person possessing both human and demonic qi, but he feeds his qi into Luo Binghe just the same, and then, somehow Luo Binghe takes it all and instead of his two natures warring inside him, he achieves balance.
Shen Qingqiu wants to pump his fist in the air in victory, but he doesn’t want to distract Luo Binghe from the intense cultivation he’s doing. Also, that is very abruptly his demon dick inside Shen Qingqiu, and he shivers from a quick orgasm around the suddenly bigger knot.
He thought Luo Binghe was too far gone for words, but he grinds his knot in and begs, “Shibo, let me be yours, Shibo, please—”
The thing is: even in this world, a claiming bite is only going to take if they both want it. Luo Binghe has said over and over, completely sober, that he wants it. Wants him. And if Luo Binghe doesn’t really want to bond, the bite won’t scar, and that will be that. They can still be together. It changes nothing.
But if he’s right—if somehow, impossibly, they’re meant for each other—
Shen Qingqiu bites down on Luo Binghe’s throat, right over his unmarked scent gland, and hopes.
Because life is unfair, Luo Binghe’s rut is over by the next morning. Well, that is to say—Shen Qingqiu gets treated to nonstop demon dick for twelve hours, which is, like, a lot when he’s not actually in heat, so he probably should be thankful that’s as much as it is. It is just an off-cycle rut, after all. Assuming Luo Binghe joins the rest of Bai Zhan for their annual week-long rut in spring, he’s sure as shit going to hope his body gets it together to go into heat at the same time.
Luo Binghe in fact wakes up with his dick still in Shen Qingqiu. He nuzzles into the back of Shen Qingqiu’s neck, and there’s no mistaking the quiet, fierce joy in his voice when he says, “Good morning, wife.”
“Who’s your wife,” Shen Qingqiu grumbles. “I didn’t get claimed last night.” But he’d known that the bite had taken. He could smell it between them; he could feel it, somehow, like a hum in the back of his mind.
Luo Binghe smiles against his skin. “Soon,” he says, and he sounds so fucking happy, so excited, that Shen Qingqiu just doesn’t have any interest in pretending that he isn’t just as blindingly happy about this turn of events.
Like—he hates being wrong, but in this case: he supposes he can let it go. In fact, he’s never been so happy to be wrong, in either of his lives, and isn’t that something?
Luo Binghe is just starting to show some interest in a morning repeat when someone bangs firmly on the door.
“Fuck,” Shen Qingqiu mutters, and then pushes Luo Binghe off. “I”ll get it,” he says.
When he cracks the door open, having grabbed the first robes at hand—Luo Binghe’s inner robes, sigh, he’d be embarrassed if it didn’t make his omega instincts thrill—he can’t help making a face. “Liu-shidi?” he says. “Is something the matter?”
There’s a protective growl behind him before Luo Binghe presses right up against him from behind.
Liu Qingge gives that posturing the respect it deserves, which is none. “Was he possessed?” he asks, sounding impatient.
Shen Qingqiu stares at him. “He was in rut,” he says, witheringly. “Surely Shidi is familiar with the concept.”
It’s only when Liu Qingge holds up his hands in peace and lets out an alpha’s most appeasing pheromones that Shen Qingqiu realizes he was a hairsbreadth from snarling, his posture that of a defensive, protective omega—in short, full honey badger mode. “I felt demonic qi coming from here last night,” Liu Qingge says. “Is he okay? Can I check on him?”
Shen Qingqiu actually does snarl this time. He’s surprised when Luo Binghe, who evidently pulled on an outer robe in the interim, puts his hands on Shen Qingqiiu’s hips and croons soothingly in his ear.
“He’s fine,” Shen Qingqiu says, because he’s not ready for this. He doesn’t want to roll the dice on Cang Qiong respecting an omega’s sole claim. It almost never came up in the web novel—it just wasn’t the way things went! The only thing he can do right now is try to bullshit his way out of this.
But then he’s startled by the low hum of demonic qi. “Binghe?” he says, startled.
Liu Qingge’s eyes go wide, but he doesn’t draw his sword.
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe says, and swallows audibly. “I have something to tell you.”
Shen Qingqiu is fully braced for the following: bloodshed, tears, recriminations, renunciations, exile, alpha growling, demonic alpha roaring, enough pheromones to knock over anyone within smelling distance, enough stupidity to make Shen Qingqiu want to crawl into a hole in the earth, or any and all combinations thereof.
Instead he gets this absolute dogsblood confession scene. Why did this devolve into an episode of Naruto? Not even good Naruto, by which Shen Qingqiu means up through the end of the Chuunin Exams arc, but full filler episode in Shippuden territory.
“So you see, Shizun, I’ve been part demon this whole time,” Luo Binghe concludes, the sigil of the heavenly demons glowing on his forehead. “If Shizun can’t accept me—” he trails off dramatically, clutching Shen Qingqiu’s hand.
Liu Qingge just scratches the back of his head with one hand. “What do you need?” he asks bluntly.
Luo Binghe switches gears so fast that Shen Qingqiu feels like he’s gotten whiplash. “More practice at controlling my appearance.”
Liu Qingge nods, his brow furrowed in thought. “Do you need a training regimen?”
Luo Binghe brightens, and then they might as well be speaking an entirely different language that consists of grunts and also what Shen Qingqiu can only assume are the names of various Bai Zhan physical cultivation moves. He wonders, for a moment, if moves evolve like those in Pokemon.
Finally, Shen Qingqiu just can’t take it anymore. “So you’re not going to try to kill him?” he demands, because he would really like to be clear on that point.
“He can’t help who his parents are,” Liu Qingge says matter-of-factly. “If that’s a problem for you, you shouldn’t have claimed him.”
“A problem for me?!” Shen Qingqiu shouts, outraged and absolutely ready to throw hands.
“Shibo,” Luo Binghe says, and pulls Shen Qingqiu back into his arms. He’s blushing like the new bride he sort of is. “I’m still not feeling well. Won’t Shibo come back inside and take care of me?”
“He’ll be aggressive until it’s all out of your system,” Liu Qingge says to Luo Binghe, and then goes red. “Put up some more talismans. I’ll tell everyone else you’re not to be disturbed today.”
“Thanking Shizun,” Luo Binghe says, the very image of a respectful disciple. Liu Qingge just nods once in acknowledgement before stalking off.
Shen Qingqiu would yell more after him, but he can feel that Luo Binghe wasn’t entirely exaggerating—he does need Shen Qingqiu again, and well. Shen Qingqiu is hardly going to let him down.
Shen Qingqiu’s heat continues to refuse to show up, which, first of all, is extremely rude. If it had, this meeting with Yue Qingyuan, where he and Liu Qingge are arguing for Luo Binghe to not be exiled from the sect, would be going a lot differently.
Thankfully, Yue Qingyuan is less intractable than his body’s heat cycle.
“The other sects will not be as understanding,” Yue Qingyuan says, looking troubled but not as alarmed as Shen Qingqiu thinks he probably should be, given that they have just disclosed that the head disciple of Bai Zhan Peak is not only part demon, but also has been claimed by Shen Qingqiu.
“The other sects are not my concern,” Shen Qingqiu says, narrowing his eyes over his fan. “I want to know what Zhangmen-shixiong intends to do.”
Yue Qingyuan looks at Liu Qingge, who has thus far done nothing except sit there like a particularly aggressive lump. “Liu-shidi surprises me,” Yue Qingyuan says mildly. “He’s not known for his acceptance of demons.”
“He’s my head disciple,” Liu Qingge says, finally contributing to the conversation. “He’s a righteous cultivator, and loyal to Cang Qiong.” Then he nods once, as if that’s all he has to say on the matter.
Shen Qingqiu very much wants to bang his head against the table they’re sitting at. Liu-shidi! Pull your weight, here!
Yue Qingyuan is quiet for a moment, and then he turns his attention back to Shen Qingqiu. “If I banish Luo Binghe, will Qingqiu-shidi follow him?”
He has to sell this. It wouldn’t be a question if he were an alpha, but alas, shitty xianxia attitudes! “This omega has claimed him, and will not tolerate him leaving my side,” Shen Qingqiu says, and it comes out way more threatening than he actually meant for it to.
“And Luo-shizhi reciprocates?” Yue Qingyuan says, which is a totally responsible question from their Sect Leader, but it raises Shen Qingqiu’s hackles. He doesn’t know what might have come out of his mouth if Liu Qingge hadn’t snorted.
“Does he ever,” Liu Qingge says, one corner of his mouth lifting up.
Shen Qingqiu takes it back. Help less, Liu-shidi!
Yue Qingyuan’s expression is oddly wistful, but not at all like someone who is about to boot a promising young disciple with some unexpected heritage off the mountain. “Then perhaps it’s time to talk to the disciple in question,” he says. He nods once at his own head disciple, who then lets Luo Binghe in.
When he enters the room, Shen Qingqiu has a split second of fear that it’s enough to kickstart his heat, because—because—
This is Luo Binghe, whom Shen Qingqiu has loved across two lives. He carries himself like the proud, capable alpha he is, his expression appropriately respectful as he bows to the three of them, before taking a seat at Shen Qingqiu’s side, opposite Yue Qingyuan and Liu Qingge. He holds out his hand, and after only a moment of hesitation, Shen Qingqiu takes it.
All of a sudden, this feels suspiciously like a marriage interview. His face feels hotter than the sun.
Luo Binghe unexpectedly speaks first. “Zhangmen-shibo,” he says, and bows. “This lowly disciple has a request.”
Yue Qingyuan raises an eyebrow. “Speak,” he says.
Luo Binghe straightens up. “This lowly alpha is attempting to fulfill Shen-shibo’s mating challenge, but my efforts are less effective than they could be.”
“May this one inquire as to the nature of the mating challenge?” Yue Qingyuan says, a perfectly bland expression on his face, even as Shen Qingqiu privately wishes to melt into the floor.
“Shen-shibo expressed a desire for better relations between the human and demon realms,” Luo Binghe says, and his scent says that he’s proud of this, which, what the fuck.
Both Yue Qingyuan and Liu Qingge are staring at Shen Qingqiu, their eyes wide. “He couldn’t just kill something like a Black Moon Python Rhinoceros for you?” Liu Qingge says, sounding startled.
“Shen-shibo is entitled to ask for whatever he pleases,” Luo Binghe says coolly, just a hint of warning in his voice.
Great, it just makes him sound like he’s either incredibly full of himself, or like he had no intention of ever allowing Luo Binghe to claim him, or both.
“What is Luo-shizhi’s request, then?” Yue Qingyuan asks.
Luo Binghe allows the mark of heavenly demons to shine on his forehead. “This lowly disciple has found that the demonic realm is willing to listen to him, on account of his blood,” he says. “But in the human realm, this disciple has no standing by which to persuade others.”
Yue Qingyuan’s expression remains frustratingly impenetrable.
“If this humble disciple could speak for Cang Qiong, surely there would be none who would not listen,” Luo Binghe continues, leaning forward in his seat. “Such is Zhangmen-shibo’s reputation among the cultivation world and the human realm.”
Yue Qingyuan’s eyebrows go up. Way up. “Are you…asking to negotiate in this one’s place?”
The balls on the protagonist! Skipping right past the Sect Leader’s generosity in not banishing him, and asking to be made equal in rank to Qing Jing Peak! Shen Qingqiu is torn between being impressed and feeling like he should start apologizing for Luo Binghe’s impudence.
But Luo Binghe holds his ground, and astonishingly, Yue Qingyuan’s mouth twitches into a suggestion of a wry smile. “Perhaps a trial negotiation is in order. There is a dispute between a village on the borderlands and a nearby sect. If Luo-shizhi is able to resolve this conflict to this one’s satisfaction—and his omega’s—” he nods at Shen Qingqiu, “then this one will consider bestowing such authority on Luo-shizhi on a more permanent basis.”
Shen Qingqiu honestly feels like he has no memory of what happens after that, just that somehow pleasantries came out of his mouth and then, their business concluded, Liu Qingge, Luo Binghe, and Shen Qingqiu returned to Bai Zhan Peak. There wasn’t even a question of Shen Qingqiu going back to Qing Jing—Luo Binghe held out his arm and Shen Qingqiu joined him on his sword.
When they land outside of Luo Binghe’s quarters, Liu Qingge says suddenly, “You’re sure about this? Even as my head disciple, you would never have had to take on this work.”
“I’m very sure,” Luo Binghe says firmly. Then he looks at Shen Qingqiu, and his eyes practically sparkle. “Shibo is worth it.”
“I’m just saying, if he’d asked for a Black Moon Python Rhinoceros, you wouldn’t have to talk to so many people,” Liu Qingge says.
Shen Qingqiu rolls his eyes. “Yes, thank you, Shidi,” he says, and pushes Luo Binghe inside so he can shut the door in Liu Qingge’s face.
Unsurprisingly, Luo Binghe’s trial negotiation is a smashing success. The only part Shen Qingqiu didn’t like was the part where Luo Binghe was away for three days. When Yue Qingyuan gives him a jade pendant that carries his authority, and a more complicated mission even further away, Shen Qingqiu puts his foot down.
“I'm going with him,” he says, snapping his fan shut.
“Surely that’s not necessary—” Yue Qingyuan starts to say.
The omega snarl that leaves his mouth feels like it belongs to someone else, but both Yue Qingyuan and Luo Binghe are looking at him, clearly startled.
“As Qingqiu-shidi likes,” Yue Qingyuan says, his scent immediately placating.
That’s how Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe find themselves at An Ding Peak, to requisition items for the mission’s negotiation. Shen Qingqiu turns away for one minute, his attention caught by a stack of papers with some writing that doesn’t look logistical in nature, and then hears Luo Binghe say, “How does it work?”
“Oh, you just activate the array like so, and then you can organize information in the chart like this,” Shang Qinghua says brightly, demonstrating his fucking magic spreadsheet.
“Oh,” Luo Binghe says, clearly entranced. “And if you only want to see the information for Jin Lang City, can you just—” he reaches out and presses something on the paper.
“Luo-shizhi is a natural,” Shang Qinghua says admiringly, and then they’re off to the races with baby’s first xianxia Excel tutorial.
“This is so useful,” Luo Binghe says, and what the fuck, that’s his sex voice. Shen Qingqiu would know!
It’s not long before Shang Qinghua is walking Luo Binghe through creating his own spreadsheet array for his very diplomatic takeover of the demon realm, and from the sounds of it, Luo Binghe is like two seconds from independently inventing pivot tables. Why is Shen Qingqiu so attracted to him?
When Luo Binghe looks up and catches Shen Qingqiu staring at him, his smile is surprisingly sweet, and Shen Qingqiu is forced to hide his blushing face behind his fan.
Shen Qingqiu does as he promised, and tries to stay out of it and let Luo Binghe handle the mission on his own. He’s really not feeling well, anyway, so he’s less inclined to meddle. It’s almost like a little vacation, if you put aside Huan Hua Palace disciples everywhere and apparently a lot of snakes? Luo Binghe skips over that part quickly and encourages Shen Qingqiu to rest in the very well appointed inn room that he rented for them. Luo Binghe even brought some of Shen Qingqiu’s nesting supplies, which goes a long way toward soothing some of his bad temper. And he also leaves him with snacks every day, and gives him a copy of a novel apparently written by a disciple of Xian Shu. It is trash, and Shen Qingqiu is so happy to read it, he could cry.
When Luo Binghe comes back to their rooms one evening, several days into the mission, he kneels in front of Shen Qingqiu’s temporary nest. “Shibo,” he says, taking Shen Qingqiu’s hand in his. “I freed Tianlang-jun from his prison, after negotiating peaceful relations with the human realm.”
Shen Qingqiu’s jaw drops. “What,” he says faintly.
“Also, it seems he may be my father.”
“WHAT.”
Luo Binghe presses a kiss to the scent gland on Shen Qingqiu’s wrist. “Does that fulfill Shibo’s mating challenge?”
“If it doesn’t, I can’t imagine what would,” Shen Qingqiu says, still gobsmacked.
Luo Binghe looks plainly relieved. “I’m so happy, Shibo,” he says. “We were cutting it a little close.”
“A little close for what?” Shen Qingqiu says.
Luo Binghe’s eyes are dark red when they meet his. “For Shibo’s heat,” he says simply, and then stands up and crawls into Shen Qingqiu’s nest.
“My heat?” Shen Qingqiu says. “Don’t be ridiculous, I’m not—there’s no way—” he trails off, and tallies up his recent symptoms. “Wait, am I?”
“Shibo has been so mean,” Luo Binghe says, sounding perversely delighted about it. “So particular. Only wanting food from this alpha, only wanting this alpha’s presence, and he even let me drink of his pleasure three times in a row—”
“Yes, alright, thank you,” Shen Qingqiu says, embarrassed. It does scan—he has been in a mood, he has been disinclined to company outside of Luo Binghe, he did let Luo Binghe crawl between his thighs and then—
“Shibo, I love you,” Luo Binghe says, and pulls aside his robe to reveal Shen Qingqiu’s bite on his neck. “I’m Shibo’s and no one else’s,” he says, and leans down to kiss him, passionate and sincere. “Will Shibo be mine?”
The first rule of transmigration is don’t talk about transmigration. But there’s just no way that he’s going to go through heat and be claimed by someone who doesn’t know his name.
“My alpha should call this one by his name, one no one else in the world knows,” he says. “Call this omega Shen Yuan, and make him yours.”
Predictably, Luo Binghe takes this as license to mutter his name an egregious number of times, some of it heartfelt—“A-Yuan, perfect, wonderful A-Yuan,” he sighs into Shen Qingqiu’s neck, where he’s evidently mapping out his claiming bite—but still more of it obscene. “I’m going to breed A-Yuan so full,” he says, moaning as he feeds his cock into Shen Qingqiu’s very welcoming cunt.
But when he knots Shen Qingqiu, he sobs out, “A-Yuan, my A-Yuan,” like the truth of that is too overwhelming to contain, and he can no more do that than he can prevent tears from slipping down his face as he puts his teeth in Shen Qingqiu’s neck, and claims him.
Shen Qingqiu isn’t sure what he expected, but it feels like something has snapped into place—something he’d longed for without knowing it, without knowing how to even name it. His bond with Luo Binghe hums between them, quiet but overwhelming, like looking up at the twelve peaks of Cang Qiong from the very foot of the mountain.
He realizes belatedly that he’s come, too, and not all the tears on his skin are Luo Binghe’s.
“Binghe,” he says quietly, in barely more than a whisper. “From this moment forward, this omega will be in your care.”
“As this alpha has been, and will continue to be in yours,” Luo Binghe says, blushing while delivering the ritual response.
Shen Qingqiu finds himself purring, and feels a tinge of bone-deep joy threaded across their bond, and whether it started with him or Luo Binghe is impossible to say, but that it is shared is without question.
The rest of his heat is a blur. He mostly registers the safe, steady presence of his alpha, the satisfaction of being filled, everything smelling right and good and like only the both of them. He recalls snapping his teeth at Luo Binghe a few times when his alpha wanted to give him water instead of his dick, but for the most part, his heat seems to have passed without incident.
Well, nearly. “Good morning, wife,” Luo Binghe murmurs when Shen Qingqiu surfaces.
Shen Qingqiu would like to glare at that, except Luo Binghe is perfectly aware of how content he is, and from the satisfied look in his eyes, he didn’t miss how Shen Qingqiu had thrilled at being called that. Well, they’re officially mated; why shouldn’t he enjoy it?
“Good morning, husband,” he says instead, and they are going to have to work on modulating what they share over their bond, because Luo Binghe’s fierce adulation would have knocked him over if he weren’t still lying down.
“About that,” Luo Binghe says. “So I negotiated very good terms with Tianlang-jun, but I’m afraid he wouldn’t budge on one point.”
“What’s that?” Shen Qingqiu asks. Later, he will blame his lack of suspicion on his post-heat lassitude.
“A mating bond is of course perfectly respectable, but he feels we really need a proper wedding, to serve as an example of human and demon relations,” Luo Binghe says, earnest and also tremendously full of shit, his eyes gleaming. “I’m afraid we have to invite a good many people to witness our union. Oh, but don’t worry—he’s offered to pay the bride price and finance the whole affair. And organize, but I put my foot down about that. I know how particular Shibo is.”
“Oh, that’s the part you put your foot down about?” Shen Qingqiu says dryly.
Luo Binghe looks at him, a smile on his face and a simmering jangle of nerves through their bond. “Will Shibo do me the honor?” he asks.
“On one condition,” Shen Qingqiu allows.
Luo Binghe kisses him enthusiastically, and then says, “Yes, anything Shibo wants.”
“You haven’t heard what I want yet,” Shen Qingqiu feels compelled to remind him, trying to fight down a smile and failing.
“This alpha bends to his omega’s will,” Luo Binghe says with a dreamy look on his face.
“Which is definitely why we’re having a public spectacle of a wedding,” Shen Qingqiu says, and then lays a finger against Luo Binghe’s lips. “I’d like to travel with Binghe, afterwards. There’s still so much of the world I haven’t seen. Won’t Binghe explore it with me?”
“As Shibo wishes,” Luo Binghe says, so sweetly, and Shen Qingqiu meets his lips to seal it with a kiss.
The only thing that prevents Tianlang-jun from turning their honeymoon into some kind of imperial tour is not, strangely, that he has yet to officially name Luo Binghe crown prince—although that is on the horizon, and it’s probably only because Tianlang-jun wants to also milk that event for all that it’s worth that it’s not happening in conjunction with their wedding.
Honeymoons don’t exist as a concept in this world, but Shen Qingqiu is absolutely determined to have peace, quiet, and relative anonymity to spend time with his husband for at least a few weeks before he has to deal with whatever the hell has been happening on Qing Jing Peak in the lead up to their wedding. Ming Fan and Ning Yingying say they are handling everything, and somehow Liu Qingge is involved? Shen Qingqiu doesn’t know and he doesn’t want to know until he has to.
“Don’t you want your wife to travel in comfort?” Tianlang-jun wheedles one afternoon, having made himself comfortable on several pillows on the floor of the bamboo house. He’s still regrowing his limbs, but has prioritized his right hand, allegedly so he can kill demons as needed to reassert his rule, but really, Shen Qingqiu thinks, it’s so he can read his novels without asking Zhuzhi-lang to turn back a page when he reads a scene that is apparently so good he has to read it again and make noises of what seem to be pleasurable suffering.
Maybe Luo Binghe comes by it honestly.
Luo Binghe’s eyebrow twitches as he serves Shen Qingqiu, and only Shen Qingqiu, some tea and beautiful snacks. Tianlang-jun makes puppy dog eyes, like he’s never been fed, and then Shen Qingqiu remembers that he kind of hasn’t for about twenty years, and instantly caves and picks up one delicate cake and offers it to him.
“Ah, son-in-law, so filial,” Tianlang-jun sighs, and then opens his mouth, as if he expects Shen Qinqqiu to hand feed him.
Shen Qingqiu stares him down.
“I don’t want to lose my place,” Tianlang-jun says, holding up the terrible novel he’s reading, that is immediately recognizable as the output of Xian Shu’s accursed book club. Introducing Liu Mingyan and Tianlang-jun is truly the worst thing that Luo Binghe has ever done.
Shen Qingqiu rolls his eyes and then crams the cake in his father-in-law’s mouth.
“He’s so mean,” Tianlang-jun says approvingly to Luo Binghe after managing not to choke.
Luo Binghe wraps a possessive arm around Shen Qingqiu’s waist, and Shen Qingqiu just barely manages to soothe him with soft affection over their bond and a hint of placating pheromones. He’s not in the mood for any (further) property damage, and this father-son relationship is volatile at best.
“Shibo doesn’t want to travel with a retinue,” Luo Binghe says finally, and Shen Qingqiu hopes that will be the end of it.
“Oh?” Tianlang-jun says. He has a genial smile on his face, but surprisingly, serious concern in his eyes. “Son-in-law, to travel without protection—”
“Binghe is protection enough, and this one is a peak lord,” Shen Qingqiu says sharply.
“But you may be distracted,” Tianlang-jun says, his worry plain.
He’s going to send them with a whole army at this rate. Shen Qingqiu wants to scream in frustration.
Instead, he lowers his eyes, and reaches for Luo Binghe’s hand. “This omega wants to spend time with only his alpha while we can,” he says demurely.
Tianlang-jun looks misty-eyed. “Ah, well. If son-in-law wants to travel in secret and enjoy being newlyweds, this lord will not stand in the way of romance.” Then, concerningly, he looks down at his book. “Do you need disguises?” he asks, sounding entirely too excited. “Will son-in-law wear a veil to conceal his identity?”
Unfortunately, he has hit upon an interest of Luo Binghe’s, and now there’s no stopping either of them. “Shibo could use some clothing for travel,” Luo Binghe says thoughtfully.
Shen Qingqiu is very tempted to jam his elbow into Luo Binghe’s side, but a frisson of want across their bond makes his breath catch.
Luo Binghe leans down to whisper in his ear. “And perhaps, some clothing for this alpha’s eyes only?”
“I suppose,” Shen Qingqiu manages to say. Really, there’s a time and place, protagonist!
“Oho?” Tianlang-jun says, because of course his hearing is also excellent.
Luo Binghe’s pheromones immediately turn threatening, and Tianlang-jun looks delighted.
“Go outside if you’re going to fight,” Shen Qingqiu says sternly.
“This Binghe will be quick,” Luo Binghe says, and shamelessly presses a kiss to Shen Qingqiu’s cheek.
“So filial, to acknowledge your father’s victory will be swift,” Tianlang-jun says cheerfully.
“Outside,” Shen Qingqiu repeats.
It’s only when they’ve both left that he picks up Tianlang-jun’s novel. Just out of curiosity.
He starts to skim the first chapter, and then slows down to actually read.
It’s even worse than he imagined.
When Luo Binghe and Tianlang-jun come back in, both a little worse for wear but apparently no hard feelings, which is probably what happens when you are either a demon or grow up on Bai Zhan Peak, Shen Qingqiu is in the middle of a hate-read the likes of which he has not experienced since the last half of Proud Immortal Demon Way.
“You read this?” Shen Qingqiu demands, waving the book in fury.
“This lord was fortunate to read and give feedback on early drafts,” Tianlang-jun says cheerfully. “Imagine my surprise when I learned that my son-in-law was a secret omega, and that he sacrificed himself for love!”
Shen Qingqiu opens his mouth to argue the point, but Luo Binghe is looking at him with adoring eyes, and the hum of what can only be love across their bond, and sighs. “Who wrote this garbage, anyway?” he asks. He doesn’t recognize the pen name.
“It’s a secret,” Tianlang-jun says, at the same time Luo Binghe says, “Shang-shibo.”
“I’m going to kill him,” Shen Qingqiu says evenly. Everything is Shang Qinghua’s fault! This world, this shitty fictionalized account of his relationship with Luo Binghe, the fucking spreadsheet array that Luo Binghe is using to be a complete psycho about their wedding, the fact that he is lactating when he’s not even pregnant!
“Ah, that would make Mobei-jun unhappy,” Luo Binghe says apologetically.
“What?” Shen Qingqiu says, baffled. “Why?”
“Do you not know?” Tianlang-jun says, looking excited. “Oh, son-in-law, let me give you the hot goss.” He says the slang with relish, and there’s little doubt that he learned it from the author of the terrible novel that Shen Qingqiu is still holding.
“It’s very romantic,” Luo Binghe concedes. “Not as romantic as our story, of course.”
“I hate everyone,” Shen Qingqiu informs him, but allows Luo Binghe to put his arm around him again, while his future father-in-law starts to tell of a young disciple of An Ding Peak, and a disfavored prince of the North.
Later, after the wedding, after their wedding night, Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe slip away on their swords and fly off to explore the world. Luo Binghe has a whole itinerary on his thrice-damned spreadsheet array, but since said itinerary also lists the fauna and flora they can expect at each location, and Luo Binghe has set up a separate bestiary tab for more detailed notes, Shen Qingqiu is prepared to forgive him.
And it’s not like he didn’t expect to have a lot of sex on this trip, he just thought it would happen on a bed, with the nesting materials that Luo Binghe packed.
But, well. It is an entire field of Paradise Cloud Ferns. And Luo Binghe just happens to trip and fall backward, bringing Shen Qingqiu down on top of him.
“Shibo,” Luo Binghe pleads, catching his lips in a kiss. “Shibo, can we?”
“Who are you calling Shibo while we’re like this?” Shen Qingqiu mutters, tempted to hide his face in Luo Binghe’s chest.
“A-Yuan,” Luo Binghe says obediently, a tender look in his eyes. “A-Yuan, I love you.”
He married the protagonist in front of what felt like the entire cultivation world and the demonic realm, but his face still feels thin when it comes to saying what he feels. “I love you, too,” he manages to say.
Their bond hums between them, strong and sure, and, well—he supposes it is a pretty romantic setting, and they’re all alone, except for the butterflies that seem to be flocking to him. They’re very pretty—a shimmery gold in color, and that twigs something in Shen Qingqiu’s brain. “Wait a second,” he says. “Aren’t these—”
“Hundred Generation Butterflies?” Luo Binghe says innocently, and rolls his hips up in a grind that makes Shen Qingqiu nearly breathless.
Hundred Generation Butterflies are said to be attracted by the scent of particularly fertile omegas. For even one to land on a newly mated omega is said to be a sign of very good fortune.
There are at least ten on Shen Qingqiu right now.
“They weren’t on your list for this region,” Shen Qingqiu says accusingly.
“And yet they found Shibo anyway,” Luo Binghe says, looking both smug and starry-eyed at the same time. “We can update the list later, but right now—”
Oh, what the hell, Shen Qingqiu thinks. Isn’t this their happily ever after? They should enjoy it while it lasts, and then, well—who knows what will happen next, but it will be a story they write together, and he can’t ask for more than that.
That doesn’t mean that he can’t troll a little bit, for old times’ sake. “Perhaps Binghe would like to see if the stories regarding these butterflies are true?” he asks archly. He pulls his robes loose so that they fall off his shoulders, exposing his small but swollen tits.
Look, the lactation kink is canonical, Shen Qingqiu is just doing his part for narrative integrity!
Luo Binghe looks stricken with desire, and Shen Qingqiu laughs as Luo Binghe swiftly rolls him onto his back, the Paradise Cloud Fern puffs drifting in the air around them.
“Shibo,” Luo Binghe says urgently. “Shibo, I know you’re not in heat, but just say the word and this alpha will do his very best." He settles himself between Shen Qingqiu's thighs, so that he's in the perfect position to get his mouth on one of Shen Qingqiu's nipples.
While Shen Qingqiu is mostly prepared to embrace his destiny as a milf née scum villain, he is in no way prepared for the feeling that resonates along their bond, which is so overwhelming that it's difficult to put into words.
If he had to try, though, he might describe it as home.
"Binghe always gives me his best," Shen Qingqiu murmurs, and pets Luo Binghe's fluffy hair, and arches up into his mouth.
"This alpha lives to serve," Luo Binghe agrees, a blissed out expression on his face.
"He better get to it, then," Shen Qingqiu says, trying not to smile and failing. "This omega isn't going to prove those butterflies right all by himself."
Luo Binghe's eyes go wide, and he scrambles to get their clothing out of the way, and okay, they're definitely asking for the protagonist's halo to kick in, but just this once, Shen Qingqiu thinks he wouldn't mind, not even a little bit.