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Shang Qinghua watched from the high wall. He was tucked to the side, away from view. There weren’t many people on the wall that time of night. People still fought sometimes, but after so many years, it felt like things had completely entered a stage of scheduled shifts. Sometimes, Shang Qinghua thought it was ironic. They were at war, yet they all respected the rising and falling of the sun.

He’d always known, since he was cursed, that nobody would listen to him. Even still, he found himself annoyed and frustrated as he watched some of the torches in the distance where the camps were set up near the beach. He turned his head when one of the guards making their rounds passed him by.

“Who—Oh. It’s just you.”

Shang Qinghua smiled wryly at the comment, but said nothing as the guard moved on without another glance. 

Since one of the prince’s died, things had been tense. The wall made them safe, but people were losing hope, and everyone was tired. Without their greatest soldier, everyone, even the children, wondered what that meant for them. The mornings felt bleaker each time.

Shang Qinghua heard the sound of feet stepping lightly over stone. It was too light to be a guard, so he shifted up further into the wall to get out of the way and to hopefully avoid anyone wanting to speak to him. Despite his prophecies being proven true many times over, the curse of doubt still covered everyone’s eyes and ears. He had the reputation of a man who spun magical, delusional tales, despite never having been wrong.

“Is there someone out there?”

The question came from only a few meters away from Shang Qinghua. He looked over, despite already recognizing the familiar voice. “No,” he said. “Just watching.”

“Any special insights?” asked Shen Qingqiu. He moved closer, until he had come to a stop beside Shang Qinghua near the ledge. “Any useful advice? Or grave warnings?”

Even though his tone was neutral, Shang Qinghua knew that he was being rude. He side eyed Shen Qingqiu, and also kept his tone quite neutral. “Any plans on sneaking out to return to your husband to save us from this nightmare?”

Shen Qingqiu’s face pinched. Even though he started it, he seemed to think that Shang Qinghua had gone too far. “If it were that easy, wouldn’t I have done that by now?”

“Sometimes I think you just haven’t tried,” Shang Qinghua said. He lost his ability to sound neutral quite fast. He was bitter, and so was everyone else, at that point. 

Shen Qingqiu’s voice was clipped and strained when he spoke next. “Do not insult me like that.”

Shang Qinghua said nothing in response. He continued to look out over the distant beach. He had a bad feeling. Though he hadn’t foreseen anything yet that would indicate his gut was right, he felt as though he knew it, more than he knew things when he did see. The god who had given him such a gift seemed to have had no ulterior motive other than to torment him. 

“What is it?” Shen Qingqiu asked when Shang Qinghua didn’t respond. “You do have some delusional insight, don’t you?”

“No,” Shang Qinghua said. “Not the delusional kind. Just the instinctual kind.”

“What’s it saying?” Shen Qingqiu asked. He was also watching the beach. He had an expression on his face that seemed tormented, too. It was the main reason that Shang Qinghua didn’t press him more. He did believe, whether he thought it was enough or not, that Shen Qingqiu did put forth an effort to return to his husband, Luo Binghe.

“Something will go wrong,” Shang Qinghua said simply. “My instincts aren’t as detailed as my delusions.”

“Hasn’t it already gone wrong?” Shen Qingqiu asked, more of a breath than anything else. “Everything has gone terribly, terribly wrong. Perhaps if things go wrong for you, what that really means is that it will finally start going right for me.”

Shang Qinghua knew that Shen Qingqiu missed Luo Binghe. He could remember Shen Qingqiu’s face when he had realized that Yue Qingyuan had no intention of letting Shen Qingqiu go after he’d come to visit while Luo Binghe had been away. Shang Qinghua, who had been given to Yue Qingyuan’s house as a prize from the gods, had been no more than a close observer for the last ten years. He was useless, but the gods had given him foresight, and even though none of the people in the city believed him, nobody wanted to reject a gift from the gods. For whatever reason, Yue Qingyuan seemed to think that Shen Qingqiu was a godly gift, too. They were both trapped, though Shen Qingqiu didn’t see it that way.

“I can’t believe it’s been so long.” It seemed Shen Qingqiu hadn’t expected Shang Qinghua to respond to his last comment. He rested his elbow on the ledge and put his chin in his hand. “I haven’t seen him in so long.”

Shang Qinghua still said nothing.

“Time passes differently here,” Shen Qingqiu muttered. His eyes looked glossy in the low torchlight. “Everyone says it feels like it’s been decades since the war started, but to me it feels as though it’s been a thousand years.”

“It’s the same for me,” Shang Qinghua said simply.

Shen Qingqiu moved, his hand shifting from his chin to cover his eyes instead. He leaned into his hand, looking sad, but mostly tired. He shook his head a few times, as though also incredulous. “I’ve lived a lifetime here, in a place between hell and earth.”

“The prince has died,” Shang Qinghua offered lamely. “Perhaps that means the wind will change, for once, since this mess began.”

Shen Qingqiu was still hidden behind his palm. “I have no hope anymore,” he replied, as though making an inarguable statement. “The war might be over soon, indeed. I might be slaughtered in lieu of being given up. I might be killed on accident from a soldier who doesn’t know how to distinguish between a person and a warrior. Binghe might be killed. I might go back and find that too much has changed.”

“Though I am cursed with a lack of faith, try to trust me this time,” Shang Qinghua said. “If I foresee your end, I will warn you. Whether you emerge victorious, dead, or tortured, you will know.”

“Comforting,” Shen Qingqiu said wryly. He lifted his head out of his hand. He stared down at the beach. 

Shang Qinghua looked down, too, and felt as though he could almost physically see the soldiers pouring through. When he blinked, they were gone.

__________

When Shang Qinghua saw his prophecies, it seemed both like a dream and an idea at the same time. It was like watching something play behind his eyes while he slept, yet he was often awake. Most recently, he saw fire. It was everywhere throughout the city, and there were so many people that it had been difficult to discern who belonged to who, and if it was a tragedy or an attack. He saw a large horse, sleek, black and glorious. It was almost the height of the temple. It watched over the chaos, as though it had brought it, though it stood still and proud.

After Shang Qinghua had seen it and after he had come back to himself, he kept his gaze forward and his expression neutral. He had gotten past the point of urgently warning Yue Qingyuan, or Shen Qingqiu, or any of the princes. Shen Qingqiu’s words had lingered in him from a few nights prior. Perhaps what was terrible for Yue Qingyuan wasn’t that terrible for anyone else. Or, at least, Shen Qingqiu. Perhaps Shang Qinghua could also take advantage of his luck. It seemed wishing and hoping for the fortune of all of those without power had become a useless endeavor.

It wasn’t much longer after Shang Qinghua had seen it that he stood on the wall again, watching, as Luo Binghe, his commander in chief Mobei Jun, and the rest of the soldiers pack their things up and go. Their ships sailed away, and Shang Qinghua heard a few of the servants whispering about the tears on Shen Qingqiu’s face when he’d learned, before he had hardened to stone and locked himself away in his chambers.

Shang Qinghua knew that Yue Qingyuan would try to sweep in then, implore Shen Qingqiu to come out, and assure him that he was just as, if not more, adored there in the palace than he was with Luo Binghe. Shen Qingqiu would be angry then. He wasn’t incapable of the emotion, but sometimes Shang Qinghua thought he was incapable of showing it or acting on it. He wondered if this was the time that it would erupt out of him. Based on what he’d been hearing, however, he also wondered if the only thing that could escape him was despair.

The men were elated. Every person Shang Qinghua neared was speaking about it with someone else, bouncing on their feet in excitement, or even commenting on it to Shang Qinghua, who they historically pretended didn’t exist.

Shang Qinghua, like he had the night he and Shen Qingqiu had spoken, felt a looming sense of doom hanging over their heads. He knew that it was the horse. Whatever the horse was and however it got within the walls, it would be the undoing of everything. 

That night, Shang Qinghua dreamt of the horse again. He saw bodies falling out of it like blood, and not long after that, the fires started, the yelling and screaming started, the dirt and mud and stink of flesh and death rose from the ground. It was hot. The fires made it hot, but so did the rushing of fighting bodies, rising body heat, panic, fear, and desperation.

He saw a man, nearly indistinguishable in the shadow of night, but each time he passed by an inferno of destruction, the glossy black of his armor was like a beacon. Shang Qinghua couldn’t see his face in the vision, but his presence was enough. Men were cut down the way grass was trampled underfoot. He spoke briefly and rarely, and the men he didn’t cut down obeyed him. It was Mobei Jun. Shang Qinghua knew that it was.

Shang Qinghua had seen Mobei Jun once before. It was before everything had begun. It wasn’t long after he’d been given as a gift to Yue Qingyuan, and Mobei Jun had been visiting more for business than anything else. At the time, Shang Qinghua was still being viewed more like a gift than a nuisance. He remembered being spoken of and introduced to Mobei Jun as though he was a wonder of their palace. Mobei Jun had looked over him the way a person might assess a flock of sheep, as though appraising its worth. Mobei Jun had seemed curious at first, when he learned of Shang Qinghua’s gift. He’d been prompted to share some sort of prophecy. He had, and he’d told Mobei Jun of his inevitable success and riches, mainly through prizes from war. Shang Qinghua had been mocked for stating the obvious, and Yue Qingyuan seemed annoyed at his gift telling a guest how rich and powerful they were. Shang Qinghua had been ushered away, and he hadn’t seen Mobei Jun again.

Mobei Jun had been impressive, even then, without his armor. Seeing him in a vision, in what Shang Qinghua then saw was absolutely his element, made Shang Qinghua feel a rush of something that wasn’t impending darkness for the first time in several years. Shang Qinghua watched him enter the gates, command a secret army of men, destroy the city, and prepare to take what they had come for, so long ago.

Shang Qinghua had awoken from that vision with a tranquility that felt foreign to him. Shen Qingqiu was still locked in his rooms. He hadn’t eaten or stepped foot outside since the ships had sailed. Shang Qinghua considered breaking the door down to tell him that they weren’t really gone, and they were coming back, but he’d learned his lesson by then. No one believed him, especially when someone was at their most desperate. It seemed the worst time to give someone hope was when they’d already run out of it.

He stayed out on the wall all night after his last vision. He watched the beach and the water, and every lingering shadow that lay out of reach of all the watchmen. There was nothing. Everything was quiet and still. 

The next morning, Shang Qinghua saw people entering and leaving the gates, back and forth, and then multitudes leaving, and then, by evening, dragged slowly but surely up the beach toward the gate, was a large horse.

__________

Shang Qinghua waited outside of Shen Qingqiu’s rooms as everyone went out to celebrate around the horse, placed near the temple. The horse had been erected right beside it. While they were preparing the celebrations, Yue Qingyuan had pleaded with Shen Qingqiu to come out once more. He had ignored Shang Qinghua’s lingering presence down the hall. He gave him a disappointed and nearly disgusted side-eye as he passed Shang Qinghua by after having given up.

Shen Qingqiu hadn’t said a word to Yue Qingyuan. Shang Qinghua hadn’t tried so far, so even though he knew it was fruitless, Shang Qinghua went to the door and spoke quietly into the wood. “Do not give up,” he murmured. “It wouldn’t do well to be weak and fatigued when your Binghe finally finds you.”

There was nothing on the other side of the door. Shang Qinghua wondered if Shen Qingqiu had somehow found a way to kill himself. Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t, however, so Shang Qinghua could only hope he wasn’t passed out from lack of nourishment. The reunion would be quite lackluster, he thought to himself.

Once everything had become quiet, with only lingering, distant voices of men drunkenly stumbling home, Shang Qinghua felt tense. He’d been restlessly anticipatory before, but it had shifted to a stiffness that wouldn’t leave him. He felt poised, ready for a strike that seemed to never come.

In the dead of night, when it was only a few hours from the sunrise, the yelling started. Shang Qinghua was quiet as he shifted along the floor. He knew that Shen Qingqiu likely heard the commotion as well, but there were no sounds coming from Shen Qingqiu’s rooms. Shang Qinghua knew what he was thinking. He was thinking that even if they had gotten into the city, Luo Binghe may not be among them. And even if he was, there was no telling what would happen if anyone, from either side, got to Shen Qingqiu first.

Shang Qinghua did not hide by his rooms out of a desire to protect, but a desire to survive. Even if Luo Binghe was not alive, Shen Qingqiu was likely the safest person on either side.

The screaming and the fighting continued, worsening, as time went on. It got louder, more desperate, more visceral. It was muffled from the depths of the palace, but it was so quiet other than that sound that it seemed as though it was playing right beside Shang Qinghua’s ear.

Guards had rushed in not long after the fighting started, and they didn’t bat an eye at Shang Qinghua’s presence. They stood outside of Shen Qingqiu’s room, and even in front of Shang Qinghua. He was, after all, a gift from the gods, even if no one believed it. 

They stood in a tense silence, waiting to be found. 

Eventually, one of them urged Shang Qinghua inside. “Go in, go in,” they urged, when it sounded as though the palace had finally been broken into.

“The door will not open,” Shang Qinghua said.

The guard approached it. “Please, let the seer inside,” he said. “They are coming.”

There were a few moments of silence before the door unlocked. It didn’t open. The guard opened it and Shang Qinghua was pushed inside immediately. The door slammed shut with an urgent order to lock it. Shang Qinghua locked the door.

When he turned, Shen Qingqiu was already on the other side of the room again. He was sitting on the chaise by the window. He was facing it, hidden in pools of loose robes and long, stringy hair. His posture was poor, slumping forward.

“You have no hope of him being here, then?” Shang Qinghua asked weakly. He went to go stand beside Shen Qingqiu near the window.

Shen Qingqiu’s face was pale and limp, like he had no energy even for a facial expression. He said nothing.

“I can’t imagine that anything has happened to him. He is the type of man to slay a god to return to you.”

“Can he slay a god?” Shen Qingqiu asked, voice raspy. 

“I think so,” Shang Qinghua said, only half-joking.

Shen Qingqiu’s lip twitched, just slightly, but otherwise he didn’t move. “Can he slay all of them?”

“If anyone were to do so, it’d be him,” Shang Qinghua said, instead of saying no, like he believed.

As if knowing Shang Qinghua’s true answer, Shen Qingqiu sighed. “I think he could do it.”

“Then why are you moping?” Shang Qinghua questioned, stepping forward to get a better look at his face.

Shen Qingqiu didn’t hide it, but there was nothing more to find. He just seemed lifeless. “When this all started, I was very hopeful. Day by day, night after night, it’s dwindled away to nothing. I can feel that this will end. I felt it weeks ago. The ships left the beach and took all of my wind for its sails. Nothing has gone right—not a single thing. Why would this?”

Shang Qinghua let out a small, imperceptible sigh. He moved toward the window and rested his hands against the sill. It was open. There was fire and smoke everywhere, as though the soldiers had turned over every lantern. Years of anguish rose up with it, the heat almost hotter than the fire. 

The guards, not long after Shang Qinghua entered, began to fight. Shang Qinghua tensed and turned to the door. Shen Qingqiu didn’t move, back still to the door, but his face pinched. Neither of them had much hope for it being anyone savory. In fact, Shang Qinghua expected to be dragged out, with no dignity, and perhaps slaughtered right in Shen Qingqiu’s room. He wasn’t sure of their understanding of the inherent neutrality of a gift from the gods. 

“Is it too late to ask that you ask them to spare me?” Shang Qinghua said weakly.

Shen Qingqiu looked at him, and he looked amused. He said nothing.

The hallway went quiet not long after the scuffling and shouting started. There was silence, a few footsteps, and the door was attempted once. After a moment of silence, it was kicked in, the wood slamming against the wall so hard the wood creaked and splintered.

The doorframe was full, the soldier standing inside of it large enough to take up the entire space. He stepped through. 

Shang Qinghua swallowed tightly. It was Mobei Jun.

He stood only a step inside of the room. He looked at Shang Qinghua from beneath his helmet. In that shadow, it was difficult to see, but it almost looked as though he began to smirk. Then, as the sound of running came from the end of the hallway, he turned his head.

“He’s here,” he called casually.

Mobei Jun had been staring at Shang Qinghua, so he felt a cold dread that perhaps whoever he was speaking to was looking for him for an unknown reason. But only a moment later, another large figure practically flew into the doorway and stumbled to a stop around Mobei Jun. That one was Luo Binghe. 

His breath was heaving. His armor was light enough that Shang Qinghua could see that he was covered head to toe in blood. He ripped his helmet off, as though he wanted to see better. His eyes were fixed on Shen Qingqiu’s tense figure on the chaise.

The helmet clattered to the floor. “Shizun?”

Shang Qinghua watched Shen Qingqiu stiffen. His entire body seized, like he had been burned. He turned quickly. “Binghe?”

Luo Binghe, when he saw Shen Qingqiu’s face, rushed toward him, eyes filling with tears as he fell into an embrace with him. He buried his face into Shen Qingqiu’s stomach, weeping, as he held to him tightly.

“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu said again, choked. His face was shiny with tears as his eyes stared unblinking at Luo Binghe’s head. He fell over top of him, holding on as best he could at that angle, and clutched to the locks of his hair.

Shang Qinghua felt moved, and his mouth stretched just a little, but it faded when he registered the heavy weight of the stare from the man across the room. He glanced sideways. Mobei Jun was still standing there, and he was still staring at Shang Qinghua. 

When he saw Shang Qinghua look at him, he stepped forward. He walked to him directly, no hesitation, and it made Shang Qinghua want to run backwards. He did back away, but he wasn’t far from the wall, so he collided with it only after a few steps.

Mobei Jun towered over him. He didn’t take his helmet off so Shang Qinghua could barely see his eyes. 

Shang Qinghua glanced to the side to gauge how likely it’d be that either Shen Qingqiu or Luo Binghe would help him.

Luo Binghe was looking up at Shen Qingqiu, face soaked, clutching at his robes. And then that pitiful expression, turned to Shang Qinghua, and it was a dark and heavy look. He suddenly looked murderous, like Shang Qinghua was the one who stole Shen Qingqiu from under Luo Binghe’s nose.

Shang Qinghua shrank back further into the wall. “Umm…”

“Was this man keeping you locked away in here, Shizun?” he asked, voice rough and cracking. 

Shen Qingqiu tried to pull his gaze back. “No,” he murmured simply. “Look at me.”

Luo Binghe obeyed, but he looked no less righteously angry. “I’ll kill him.”

“No,” Mobei Jun spoke suddenly. His tone was simple. 

Shang Qinghua’s head whipped up to look back at him. He was smirking down at him from behind the shadows of his helmet. 

“As I told you when we started this ridiculous war,” Mobei Jun began, “this one is my war prize.”

__________

Shang Qinghua had, indeed, managed to escape by the skin of his teeth. Luo Binghe hadn’t been pleased at first, but after hearing Shen Qingqiu’s explanation, was more open to the idea. If anything, he seemed somewhat grateful, too. Shang Qinghua had escaped the city as well, and in a way, this was his dream scenario. The only issue was that it was as a prize to Mobei Jun. 

Being a prize could mean anything. It could mean being a concubine, a slave, a servant, an advisor, Mobei Jun’s own seer, a stolen gift from the gods. Shang Qinghua hadn’t discerned yet what that was. It seemed to be the only thing he hadn’t seen thus far. Mobei Jun was tight-lipped and seemed disinterested in explaining it. Shang Qinghua supposed kings weren’t used to having to explain themselves.

Shen Qingqiu remained by Luo Binghe’s side as they left the city. They hadn’t left even the palace for some time. Though Mobei Jun had claimed his prize verbally, he didn’t do it in any other capacity. He had left to continue the carnage, and Shang Qinghua hadn’t seen him since.

Luo Binghe wouldn’t leave Shen Qingqiu. They learned that Luo Binghe had already killed Yue Qingyuan, and Mobei Jun was finishing up directing the rest of the ransacking. They were taking everything, killing everyone in their path, and then the treasures would be split among them, whether people, jewels, or otherwise.

Once it was finally quiet enough, and someone had found Luo Binghe to notify them of their impending departures back home, they left the palace. It had felt like forever to Shang Qinghua. Not just the waiting, but leaving the city. He’d felt like he was trapped. Unfortunately, however, he also was just walking back into another entrapment. 

It didn’t take long for him to get separated from Shen Qingqiu. Shen Qingqiu was taken with Luo Binghe straight onto the ship and into the cabin. Shang Qinghua watched Shen Qingqiu disappear with a sinking feeling in his gut. Without Shen Qingqiu defending him, it felt like he’d been thrown to the wolves.

He was brought with the other “prizes,” so to speak. Shang Qinghua was amongst the gaggle of men and women that were tied together with crude ropes. Their clothes were ashy and torn. The men were leery towards them, but they hadn’t been divvied up yet, so no one was trying anything yet. The other prisoners seemed to be curious as to why Shang Qinghua was amongst them, but unscathed, with free hands, yet still followed them where they went. They knew who he was, and no one said a word to him, as though they’d be cursed if they did.

He sat a stone’s throw away from the rest of them as the men were casting their lots for their shares of the loot. Shang Qinghua wasn’t really paying attention to who got what, or who went where. Mobei Jun had said he was meant to be Mobei Jun’s. He didn’t know what that meant. He wasn’t sure if that just meant for his people, or for him specifically, or something else.

Shang Qinghua wasn’t even sure what his best option was. Ever since his blessing as a seer and curse to not be believed, Shang Qinghua had learned to accept what was given to him. If people were intrigued enough by the gift and by the reputation, then he accepted it, even if they came to never acknowledge him.

The fact that Shang Qinghua hadn’t seen anything beyond Mobei Jun’s arrival was both disconcerting but also somewhat of a relief. His visions were often disastrous, so while not knowing what would happen next made him feel blind, he did feel some relief in that perhaps that meant nothing terrible would happen.

The men huffing and puffing over not getting what they wanted, and the laughter from the men who did, quieted when a new group had made it back to camp. Shang Qinghua looked up to see Mobei Jun walking to the center of the lots casting while a group of soldiers remained with him. Shang Qinghua watched him.

Mobei Jun didn’t say much ever, it seemed. He assessed what was happening, looked over the piles of loot and people, and then his eyes seemed to be drawn straight to Shang Qinghua. Shang Qinghua couldn’t tell for certain, but Mobei Jun’s face was directed right at him, and a chill rose on Shang Qinghua’s arms.

Still, Mobei Jun said nothing. He remained watching, shifting away to let them continue, but towering over them, still in his armor and helmet, too. Everyone seemed to cast their lots with a tense, nervous energy now that he was there observing. The captured people also seemed to be tense and nervous with his presence.

As the men divvied up the last of the people, Shang Qinghua had started to think he wasn’t included in the lot, since no one had said anything to him yet. But then, after the last person had gone, they cast another lot.

A man Shang Qinghua did not know, stood up, smiling, and went right for him to bring him to his pile of treasures.

“The seer is mine.”

The man stopped and looked up at Mobei Jun, somewhat hesitantly, but still with a frown. “What?”

“If that’s what you think you’re going for, I’ll kill you if you take another step.” Mobei Jun’s voice was flat.

“I won him,” the man said, frown deepening. He faced Mobei Jun. Shang Qinghua almost felt amused at the fact that he seemed so much smaller next to Mobei Jun. It was hard to tell how much of it was stature or the fact that Mobei Jun’s demeanor demanded so much of whatever space he was occupying.

“Did you?” Mobei Jun said drily.

The man hesitated slightly. “Yes. You watched me.”

“You won something,” Mobei Jun said. “Not him.”

“That’s not how this works,” the man argued. “We all agreed we’d cast lots for the loot.”

“We all agreed that I would help with this war so that I could claim him.” He paused, turned, and began making his way toward Shang Qinghua himself. “Any one of you is free to try and argue, or take him from me.”

Shang Qinghua tensed up. He didn’t run, for he knew that was fruitless, but he felt the urge to. Instead of doing so, he stood up quickly. He wondered if being agreeable would help his case. And, as he had been pondering as he’d sat there for so long, going with the man who had spent time wanting him was likely a better scenario than going with someone who had no interest in him at all beyond winning a gamble. 

He walked the rest of the way to Mobei Jun. He, at least, preferred Mobei Jun to the man who was arguing for him. Whether he would regret thinking that was yet to be determined, but in that moment, he felt that Mobei Jun was safest.

Shang Qinghua stopped in front of Mobei Jun but didn’t meet his gaze. He kept his eyes glued to Mobei Jun’s chest plate. He grasped Shang Qinghua’s arm and began to pull him in the direction of the ships.

“Bring me the rest of my lot,” he called out casually. “Shang Qinghua is mine. No one is to touch him.”

Shang Qinghua’s arm was bent at an odd angle, but he didn’t complain. He jogged alongside Mobei Jun’s large, quick strides. 

“What is it you want from me?” he asked weakly. His voice was raspy. He hadn’t spoken in quite a while.

“To be determined,” Mobei Jun said. He glanced down at Shang Qinghua. “Though you have good survival instincts.”

Shang Qinghua felt embarrassed, though he didn’t know why. “I figured being in the palace of the king might fare better than whatever chateau a minor lord will have.”

Mobei Jun let out a grunt. Shang Qinghua thought it might have been intended to be a laugh. “We’ll see how you like it.”

“That’s quite ominous,” Shang Qinghua said weakly.

“Can’t you see ominous destinies?” Mobei Jun asked. “You tell me whether it’s ominous.”

“I just did,” Shang Qinghua said. “It was ominous.”

Mobei Jun made another sudden noise, and that time it sounded more like a laugh. “Then you really are a terrible seer,” he said. “I have no ominous plans for you.”

“Maybe in your opinion,” Shang Qinghua said, starting to feel more nervous. “Contrary to what some might think, concubines and pleasure slaves aren’t exactly enjoying themselves.”

“Is that what you think I intend for you? A seer blessed by the gods?” Mobei Jun looked down at him again. Shang Qinghua still couldn’t really see his face, but Shang Qinghua could only guess that he looked incredulous.

Shang Qinghua glanced away from him. “If you intend to use me for seeing, then you should know that people tend to be displeased with what they get from me.”

“Why should I be displeased?” Mobei Jun asked, tone simple. He looked out over the water. “You said that I would find fortune and prizes, and here, look—I’ve won. Just as you said, I’ve won all the fortune in the world.”

Shang Qinghua was silent in acquiescence. Mobei Jun stopped by his ship. He released Shang Qinghua’s arm. The men were lowering a loading ramp onto the sand. Mobei Jun indicated with his head for Shang Qinghua to follow him. Shang Qinghua did as he wished, stepping up onto the wood and walking up the ramp. Mobei Jun stepped inside, and then turned to offer Shang Qinghua a hand.

He felt a flutter of warm appreciation that he tried to pay no attention to. Mobei Jun released his hand once Shang Qinghua was on the ship. Mobei Jun walked toward the cabin, and Shang Qinghua still followed, though he was growing less and less confident that he was supposed to.

However, once Mobei Jun was through the threshold, he turned to nod Shang Qinghua into the room. Shang Qinghua stepped inside. He was afraid to be alone with him, but afraid to be away from him, too.

Mobei Jun went to sit at the table at the end of the room. He took off his helmet and set it down. His dark hair, tied in a long, messy braid, fell down his back. Shang Qinghua watched his face with greed. He’d seen his face before, but it’d been so long, and after everything, he felt eager for it. Mobei Jun’s face was dirty, but still just as handsome as it was when Shang Qinghua had seen him clean in a palace. Mobei Jun didn’t seem to notice, and he didn’t look at Shang Qinghua either. He began looking at maps. 

“My king,” Shang Qinghua started, voice weak.

“Mm?” Mobei Jun hummed in acknowledgment.

“Do you not know that I was also cursed?”

Mobei Jun looked up at him. Some of the front pieces of his hair had fallen out of the braid. He stared at Shang Qinghua with a flat expression. “You mean the nonsense about not ever being believed?”

“What do you mean nonsense?” Shang Qinghua asked defensively. 

“Well, whether it’s believable or not doesn’t change the fact you saw it. The gods gave you to the gifts for a reason.”

“Yes, and then I was punished for not doing as they wanted,” Shang Qinghua said. “How is it that you believe what I foresee?”

“I don’t,” Mobei Jun said. He looked back at the maps.

“So what do you want from me?”

Mobei Jun looked at him once more. He looked Shang Qinghua up and down, smirked, and then looked back at the maps again. He said no more.

__________

Shang Qinghua had lingered in Mobei Jun’s cabin for a while, but then he’d gone out with him to get some air while Mobei Jun assessed the progress of going back home. Shang Qinghua felt that the men already knew that Mobei Jun intended for Shang Qinghua to be his prize and only his prize, so he had asked if he was allowed to roam the ship. Mobei Jun had said he could do whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t leave the ship itself.

He took advantage of the permission and wandered around. He occasionally spoke to some of the people on the boat, but they seemed just as uncomfortable to talk to him as he was uncomfortable to talk to them. Eventually, after Shang Qinghua was bored enough, he’d went back to Mobei Jun’s cabin.

Some of the treasures he’d acquired were brought to his cabin, while the rest were stored on other ships. He was looking through them when Shang Qinghua returned.

“Am I allowed to come in?” he asked from the doorway.

Mobei Jun didn’t look up from where he was crouched, rifling through many scrolls and sheets of paper. “Yes,” he said simply.

Shang Qinghua stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. He lingered at the front of the room.

“Why are you hovering like that,” Mobei Jun said flatly, like it wasn’t a question.

“I’m unsure what I’m meant to do.” Shang Qinghua’s voice was frustrated, albeit low and quiet. “I’m not tied up, so I assume I’m not being treated like a prisoner. So what am I meant to be doing?”

Mobei Jun leaned away from the scrolls and considered him. “I suppose you could act the way any guest would. How did you act in the last palace you belonged to? Do the same with me.”

“I just wandered around and did nothing,” Shang Qinghua said. He paused, thinking if he could gamble what he wanted to say next. He chose to gamble. “I don’t want to do that again. If that’s what you expect of me, tell me now.”

“You don’t want to live leisurely in a palace?” Mobei Jun’s brows raised. He went to stand. He was in more regular clothes, though they were still armor-adjacent. His hair was loose from the braid, combed, and wavy from being tied up for so long.

“I do, but…” Shang Qinghua didn’t really want to explain what he meant. Leisure from belonging was different than leisure because he was useless. 

Mobei Jun studied Shang Qinghua’s expression, and his body language, and seemed to think deeply about it. “You want a use,” he surmised, like he read Shang Qinghua’s mind. “You have one. You’re a seer.”

“But it won’t matter,” Shang Qinghua bit out, frustrated. “Eventually you’re going to tell me to keep them to myself.”

“No,” Mobei Jun said, almost dismissive, like that just simply wouldn’t happen. “But even still, I can give you more of a duty if you would like one.”

Shang Qinghua stared at him. “I really do not understand.”

“Understand what,” Mobei Jun sighed, like he was becoming tired of the conversation. He moved back over to his desk and sat down. It was covered in junk that everyone was calling prizes.

“You say you agreed to do this because of me, but you seem to not care very much about what I do. So what was the purpose of all of this?”

“There was no way they’d let me have you, so when Luo Binghe wanted to go to war with them, I figured once we won, I could have you.” Again, Mobei Jun spoke simply, like that explained everything.

Shang Qinghua stared at him. “And…”

“And?”

Shang Qinghua let out an incredulous laugh. “And! What on earth made you want to have me?”

Mobei Jun stared at him, almost like he thought Shang Qinghua was stupid.

Shang Qinghua’s face started to heat up against his will. Assuming what he thought Mobei Jun meant was the last thing he wanted to say out loud.

“Are you still confused, or is your flushed face any indication you’ve figured it out?”

“I’m still confused,” Shang Qinghua said, despite his face feeling even hotter.

Mobei Jun’s eyes rolled up to the ceiling. “I don’t have an interest in making you an unwilling concubine, but I’d like to have your presence in my palace. What you choose to do there is up to you, as long as you do not leave.”

That somehow made it even less clear, but Shang Qinghua was afraid to ask any other questions. “But just how far am I allowed to go, really?”

“As I said, think of yourself as a guest. Whatever audacities guests have, you may have. What they don’t, you don’t.”

“I haven’t exactly had many experiences as a guest.”

“Do you need detailed instructions for everything?” Mobei Jun asked, sounding irritated. “Would you like someone to teach you how to speak and eat and sleep?”

“Would they?” Shang Qinghua asked, not entirely sarcastically. If anything, he would have liked that.

Mobei Jun raised an eyebrow at him. “You really do want that?”

“It’s easier than guessing, my king.”

Mobei Jun looked amused then, the exasperation fading. “Alright.” He gestured to the bed. “You can sleep for now. I’m sure you’re tired.”

“Wha—in here?” Shang Qinghua asked incredulously.

“I don’t trust them to leave you alone—so yes.”

Shang Qinghua felt his face turn red again. “My king, I couldn’t—”

“You will.”

Shang Qinghua swallowed. He looked to the bed. He was tired. Very, very tired. 

“I won’t touch you,” Mobei Jun said. He reconsidered. “If you don’t want me to.”

Shang Qinghua turned away from him quickly. “Please don’t,” he said in a rush. He went to climb into the bed. 

Mobei Jun let out an amused huff, but said no more.

Shang Qinghua laid down and hesitatingly got comfortable. As he laid there, he thought about how he’d never foreseen anything terrible about his future in Mobei Jun’s palace. He tried to take comfort in that, more genuinely that time, as he looked at the ceiling of Mobei Jun’s cabin. He hoped that meant that it would be better.

He started to feel drowsy, but he was kept awake by a sudden realization. He turned his head to look at Mobei Jun. “Thank you,” he muttered.

Mobei Jun looked up at him. “What?”

“For not hurting me, and for not letting the others hurt me,” he muttered, suddenly feeling shy. “…and for taking me from that place. I hated it.”

Mobei Jun had an open expression on his face, that seemed kind, though he didn’t smile. “You’re welcome.”

Shang Qinghua smiled a little. He turned over and closed his eyes.

_________

A few days later, they were well out into the sea. Shang Qinghua, at the start, still felt timid amongst the others. He’d woken to Mobei Jun in bed with him, though he did nothing except sleep, and he seemed to sleep very still. Shang Qinghua had been almost offended at first, but after evaluating the space and acknowledging that it had been a kindness to be letting Shang Qinghua sleep there, he said nothing.

Mobei Jun had told him that he should just rest, and otherwise do whatever he wanted. Shang Qinghua had been uncertain about that, too, at first, but there was nothing for him to offer in support or help. Mobei Jun dealt with his men as he’d expected, which meant that he was conscientious and hands-on, but that meant Shang Qinghua only slept, ate, and stared at the wall.

Once he’d settled, even ventured out amongst the others, he was starting to feel a little more confident in trusting Mobei Jun’s promises. Nobody bothered him, nobody tried to, and Mobei Jun didn’t really bother him either. If anything, Shang Qinghua felt so bored that he came to prefer Mobei Jun’s company.

They were saying that the journey would only be a few weeks. Shang Qinghua had expected it might be longer, but he realized he had thought that because the war had felt so long. It had made it seem like Mobei Jun and his people were worlds away. It was amazing, almost, how long everything had gone on for something that was dealt with nearly entirely in one night.

It seemed that after a few days, Mobei Jun had seemed more comfortable with Shang Qinghua, too, and he started asking questions.

Shang Qinghua had been sitting in the bed already. He still wasn’t entirely used to the fact that they were sharing a bed, though he’d come to accept it. Mobei Jun didn’t seem like he was preparing for bed yet, so Shang Qinghua would have some time to either fall asleep or pretend that he had.

“What’s the status of Shen Qingqiu’s loyalty?” Mobei Jun asked, seemingly at random, after an extended time of silence.

Shang Qinghua had just been sitting there, watching Mobei Jun’s hands as he went through more of his prizes and treasures. “Are you asking me if he wanted to be stolen back?”

“Can you steal back what’s already yours?” Mobei Jun retorted.

“I guess not,” Shang Qinghua said. “Unless he didn’t want to return.”

“Which is my exact question,” Mobei Jun said. He looked up at Shang Qinghua. “Did we steal him back, or get him back?”

Shang Qinghua leaned against the wall, where the bed was pushed up against. “He wasn’t stolen,” he answered. “He wanted to return.”

“Interesting,” Mobei Jun said, though he actually sounded disinterested.

“Why?”

“When he was with Luo Binghe, he always seemed like he was forced. Part of why I thought the war had even gone on so long to begin with was because Shen Qingqiu was refusing Luo Binghe as well.”

“He wasn’t allowed to leave,” Shang Qinghua said. “What made you think that he would be allowed to simply walk out onto the beach into Luo Binghe’s arms?”

“I didn’t think that,” Mobei Jun said simply. “However, if he wanted to return, I had expected some sort of scheme, or attempt, for him to be with Luo Binghe again. There was utter silence.”

Shang Qinghua took a moment to decide whether he would say what he wanted to say. In the interest of being authentic with this new person who would house him, he hoped that he’d be able to remain honest. And if not, it was better to learn sooner what things he should keep to himself. “I thought so, too,” he said eventually.

Mobei Jun continued to stare at him. At first, Shang Qinghua had thought his straight expression meant that he was unimpressed or angry. Sometimes it meant that, but often times it didn’t. He found himself somewhat looking forward to being able to get to a point that he could decipher all of it. 

“I would have found a way,” Shang Qinghua continued. “If I’d been taken from the person I loved, from my home, I’d find a way back, whether a war was being fought for me or not.”

“And how would you do that?” Mobei Jun asked. He seemed more intrigued than before. Shang Qinghua wasn’t sure just yet what meant interest or indulgence.

Shang Qinghua felt watched, which made him feel flushed. “I suppose it would depend on the situation, but I can be quite resourceful when I need to be. And I’m a good actor.”

Mobei Jun’s lips tugged up into a wry smile. “Are you?”

Shang Qinghua nodded, feeling a little warmer. “Nobody believes me, and they all think I’m crazy, my king. What do you think that would eventually come to mean?”

“Mm,” he hummed in question.

“Nobody takes me seriously,” Shang Qinghua said. “I could pretend to be quite simple, and no one would blink.”

Mobei Jun’s wry smile turned a little more genuine. “Though I know you don’t trust me yet, know that I will try to earn it, so that when the time comes for you to return to whom you are most loyal to, it is to me.”

Shang Qinghua felt a rush of heat in his stomach and chest. “If you can manage to keep up with what you’ve done thus far, I don’t think that will be a problem.”

_________

Later that night, when Shang Qinghua was asleep, Mobei Jun had gotten into bed, just as he had each previous night. He stayed on his side of the bed, and Shang Qinghua only woke long enough to know that Mobei Jun had gotten in. He did exactly as he’d always said. He didn’t go near Shang Qinghua. 

In that sleepy haze, Shang Qinghua found himself wishing he would. It was ironic, he thought dazedly, that what made Shang Qinghua want Mobei Jun to break his word was that he wouldn’t. 

That morning, Shang Qinghua had woken up early, to a pressure in his hand. He peeked down and saw that he was holding onto Mobei Jun’s arm, and Mobei Jun was removing his hand to get up. He looked up surreptitiously to see Mobei Jun’s expression. 

Mobei Jun was looking at him already. 

Shang Qinghua let go of his arm. “Sorry,” he whispered, voice hoarse from sleep. “I didn’t realize.”

Mobei Jun leaned over him suddenly, hand on the bed to hold his weight. His hair draped down over them. “I’m the one earning your trust right now,” he murmured, face close to Shang Qinghua’s. “You aren’t earning mine.”

Shang Qinghua felt a fluttering of warmth travel up his spine and tingle at the base of his skull. “What if I break the trust you already, for some reason, have in me?”

“Don’t betray me,” Mobei Jun said quietly. “That’s the only line you aren’t allowed to cross.”

Shang Qinghua still felt so sleepy, but alive with the fast pumping of his heart. “Do you swear it?”

“Yes.”

Shang Qinghua smiled. He reached up, slow and a little hesitant, and touched Mobei Jun’s face. “You do have a good reputation in keeping your oaths.”

“Just know that when you open the door, you will not be able to shut it.” Mobei Jun leaned in a little closer. “Understand?”

Shang Qinghua’s fingers trailed over his jaw. He’d been wanting to touch his face since seeing it in that vision. It was as smooth and strong as he’d imagined, as though in his foresight, he had also learned more than just what would happen that night, but what was also coming after. “I understand.”

“Good,” Mobei Jun said. He turned slightly, only a little, into Shang Qinghua’s hand. He pulled away and stood up off of the bed. His gaze lingered on Shang Qinghua for a moment longer. He left the room.

__________

Shang Qinghua didn’t go any farther after that night. He, though he had a desire to, still did have self-preservation instincts, and he needed more information. He needed to know what betrayal meant to Mobei Jun, how far he could go, and what he would be committing to. He needed to know how safe he would be, and he needed to see how Mobei Jun would react to his foresight.

As luck would have it, one afternoon, when Mobei Jun was out of the cabin, Shang Qinghua saw a storm coming for them that night. There wasn’t much to do in preparation against a storm in the middle of the sea, but preparing for it and knowing what to expect was better than nothing. Shang Qinghua had also seen who exactly would die doing what.

When Shang Qinghua told him, Mobei Jun had stared at him for a long, quiet moment, before he simply nodded and went back to what he’d been doing before. Shang Qinghua had long given up trying to be convincing, but he was earnestly imploring him to make adjustments. Just because he was used to people not believing him didn’t mean that he wanted to die because he wasn’t believable.

Shang Qinghua weighed the cost and benefit of asserting what he had seen when it seemed that Mobei Jun had ignored him. He felt disappointed. He didn’t feel entirely surprised, as Mobei Jun having a large reaction about it didn’t seem likely either. Even still, he was borrowing worry from the future after seeing him dismiss it. Mobei Jun had implied having a much different reaction than dismissal. Sometimes Shang Qinghua wondered if he was cursed with more than just being thought of as insane, but of influencing others to be so casual about their demise.

He sat in the single spot on the entire ship that was out of the way, outside of Mobei Jun’s cabin. He watched Mobei Jun captain the ship the same way he’d seen Mobei Jun commanding his soldiers in his vision. He did it quietly, with few words, but it was clear that he was the one they were following. Shang Qinghua watched the wind catch in his hair. It was down again, pin straight after having been loose from the braid long enough.

Shang Qinghua was more disappointed than he’d thought he was going to be. He felt dread again for his own fate. 

When Mobei Jun walked past him, he reached up to grasp his hand. Mobei Jun looked down at him. He tried one more time. “My king,” he said, squeezing his palm. “Please listen to me.”

Mobei Jun stared for a moment. “About what? The warning about the storm?”

Shang Qinghua nodded.

Mobei Jun glanced around briefly before he looked back at Shang Qinghua. “I did. We’ve adjusted course.”

Shang Qinghua dropped his hand in surprise. “What?”

Mobei Jun raised a brow. “You didn’t notice?”

Shang Qinghua looked around, practically sputtering, before he looked back up at Mobei Jun. “I’m not exactly familiar with sailing. I thought you didn’t believe me.”

“I don’t,” Mobei Jun said evenly. “But isn’t that the entire dilemma? You’ve never been wrong that I’ve seen. I don’t have to believe you to do as you say.”

Shang Qinghua gaped at him. A warmth was expanding in his chest. 

“Is that it?” Mobei Jun asked rhetorically. He walked away without another word. Shang Qinghua stared after him.

That night, only a few hours after his conversation with Mobei Jun, the storm had reached them. They’d gone off course, so the storm intercepted them without nearly as much vigor as had been in his vision. Shang Qinghua watched the men ride through it with such a distant sense of awe that he wondered, for the first time, if it would upset the gods that someone had evaded their curse. He had never had to wonder that before.

It was lucky, he supposed, that it had been Mobei Jun to be the first to find that loophole, since he seemed to be favored by the gods if anything. He hoped that meant that neither of them would be punished for having gotten around it.

After he’d adjusted to the concept that Mobei Jun really had listened to him and adjusted the course, Shang Qinghua had ventured a little farther out into the fray. Mobei Jun had demanded he go to the cabin the moment he laid eyes on him. Shang Qinghua couldn’t tell if it was because he felt worried or because Shang Qinghua was in the way. Either way, he didn’t argue. 

Shang Qinghua went into the cabin and occasionally peeked out to make sure that the fate he’d tried to avoid had been properly escaped.

Eventually, the storm did die down, and the men began to relax. They waited until the stars were visible again, alongside the moon, and waited until the waters were still, before they had all gone down to sleep. Shang Qinghua didn’t feel very tired. He felt keyed up, blood pumping steadily in his veins. 

Mobei Jun entered the cabin, damp, annoyed, and pale. 

Shang Qinghua was unsure what to say to him, and he was unsure what to do. All he could think to do was, after he’d changed, help him comb through his tangled hair. Shang Qinghua had tried not to watch him change, and throughout the last few weeks, he had been successful. That night, he wasn’t. He watched him, not doing well to hide it, but Mobei Jun didn’t seem bothered. If anything, he might not have noticed.

Mobei Jun seemed to appreciate his hair being combed. Shang Qinghua felt pleased by that.

Without any word, Mobei Jun went to lie down in bed.

Shang Qinghua didn’t say anything to him. He thought he might, come morning. But in that moment, all he did was lie down beside him. He felt rigid, more than he had since the first few nights on the ship. He was closest to the wall, as he normally was, but Mobei Jun didn’t stir despite the fact that he had to carefully step over him. When he was finally laid down, Mobei Jun still didn’t move. Shang Qinghua turned over onto his side to nestle his head onto his arm and watch him.

There was a tug in his chest as he watched Mobei Jun’s peaceful face. The tug was warm, like a hot coal was tethered to some part of Mobei Jun. It pulled at him, but also settled snugly inside. Shang Qinghua wondered if that was what real desire felt like. For another person, at least. He’d wanted things before. But closeness, intimacy, interest, and a seemingly never-ending well of curiosity about everything about Mobei Jun, was all very different than the desires Shang Qinghua had felt in the past. 

The most unique sensation of all of those new emotions was the urge to be a little helpless, too. Shang Qinghua supposed that at its core, that feeling wasn’t about dependence but about support. It didn’t matter, however, because that was never what Shang Qinghua experienced. To have support meant being helpless, and he didn’t want that. Until Mobei Jun, it seemed. 

He’d already been considering Mobei Jun, and whether to give him himself. He was constantly wagering the benefits and the costs of it. He had been getting closer and closer to deciding there were more benefits. But feeling genuine affection hadn’t been a part of that strategizing, and he sat with that information all night.

The sea was still quiet, even into earliest hours of the morning, when it was still dark. Mobei Jun didn’t stir. He laid on his back, his wet hair slowly drying, over the arm he’d thrown up behind his head when he first laid down. He truly hadn’t moved an inch.

At some point in the night, as though curious about even his own newfound impulses, Shang Qinghua had shifted up the bed and reached out to brush away some of the hair that had been on his face. When he’d done so, that same warmth inside of him flared like he’d blown into the embers of a fire.

He laid back down onto his side of the bed and continued watching him.

Shang Qinghua could tell that the sun was going to rise soon, based on the shade of blue of the sky he could see out of the tiny window. He realized that he would have no courage when the sun rose. He had only a few minutes to decide. He didn’t know why he felt that he had to make that choice soon, or why he felt like he would be missing his chance. Perhaps it was because he didn’t know the details of what was waiting for them when they hit land, and he was afraid of what he would miss if he didn’t grasp on when he could.

He reached out and touched Mobei Jun’s arm, the one that rested between them on the bed. He traced his fingers down the inside of his forearm, and then further and further down, until his fingers were on Mobei Jun’s palm. He watched Mobei Jun’s face, carefully, as he slid his fingers through Mobei Jun’s. When Mobei Jun didn’t move, he inched forward, closer and closer, until he was almost hugging Mobei Jun’s arm to his chest. 

Mobei Jun still didn’t move. 

Shang Qinghua shifted up to rest his head onto Mobei Jun’s shoulder. When Mobei Jun still didn’t stir, Shang Qinghua moved in, until he was pressed up into him, and his cheek was near his collarbone, and their hands were low near Shang Qinghua’s stomach. He began to feel tired then. He’d been awake the entire night, but being close, after hours of pondering whether he should be close, finally put him at ease enough to sleep.

Not long after that, Mobei Jun finally moved. It nearly startled Shang Qinghua, but it brought him to wakefulness. He turned his head up to look at Mobei Jun.

Mobei Jun was looking down where their hands were connected. When he saw Shang Qinghua looking, he turned to meet his gaze. 

Shang Qinghua swallowed. He squeezed Mobei Jun’s hand experimentally. 

Mobei Jun’s thumb rubbed over his.

“You believed me,” Shang Qinghua whispered, so low it was almost inaudible.

“No I didn’t,” Mobei Jun reminded, also very quiet.

Shang Qinghua smiled a little. “You did. What you did is the same as believing me.”

“I don’t have to believe you to do as you ask.”

Shang Qinghua felt a zing of feeling run up his spine. He released Mobei Jun’s hand and moved over him. He put his legs on either side of Mobei Jun’s waist. Mobei Jun watched him with still-droopy eyes, but his mouth twitched up just slightly. His hands rested on Shang Qinghua’s waist, low, and almost onto his hips.

“What do you want in return?” Shang Qinghua asked.

“Did you think I changed course to have sex with you, instead of changing course because we would have died?”

“Honestly, maybe,” Shang Qinghua said. The warm feeling Mobei Jun gave him traveled low, down his stomach, into his abdomen, and to his groin. There was a slight pressure between his legs, from how he was sitting, and also from the promise of growing hard. “You said you didn’t believe me.”

Mobei Jun’s thumbs were pressing to the soft part just above Shang Qinghua’s hip bones. He stroked that spot rhythmically, eyes trailing down Shang Qinghua’s torso as the slight upturn of his lips turned into a full smirk. “I told you. I was doing what you asked.”

“So that I’d have sex with you,” Shang Qinghua inferred.

Mobei Jun pressed one of his hands to Shang Qinghua’s abdomen, dangerously low. “Amongst other things, I suppose.”

“You’re allowed to do whatever you want to me,” Shang Qinghua reminded. “I’m your war prize.”

“There’s more to winning than just taking,” Mobei Jun said. 

Shang Qinghua caught his hand from traveling any farther down. “What do you want, after you win?”

“The real prize,” Mobei Jun said, “from a real win.”

“And then what? Will you go on to win more prizes?”

Mobei Jun considered him for a moment. He smiled, like he was amused, and broke from Shang Qinghua’s grasp. He continued touching him, down over Shang Qinghua’s groin, but then continued on to his thigh. “I’m the type to be satisfied enough with one prize.”

“Are you certain?”

“Am I certain of the type of person I am?”

“Yes.”

Mobei Jun’s fingers pressed hard into Shang Qinghua’s skin. “You’re bold for a prize.”

Shang Qinghua smiled wryly. “I’m the one who came willingly. Didn’t we just establish that it’s not a prize if you didn’t win?”

“I won,” Mobei Jun said. His hand gentled. “For here you are, on top of me.”

“I could climb off,” Shang Qinghua said.

“You’d come back,” Mobei Jun said.

Shang Qinghua stared down at him. He thought about getting off, and how it’d feel, and he thought about how it’d feel if they docked in Mobei Jun’s city and then he was left to someone else, or left to wander alone, and he decided he couldn’t. Mobei Jun was right. He would come back.

He bent forward and kissed him.

Mobei Jun let out a breath through his nose. He wrapped an arm around his waist and held Shang Qinghua’s head to his own with the other hand.

Shang Qinghua slid his fingers into Mobei Jun’s hair. It was still a little damp, but it was warm from Mobei Jun’s body heat. His mouth parted, just a little, and Mobei Jun’s tongue pressed to his. Shang Qinghua let out a soft sound, more like a sigh, and let Mobei Jun bully his way into Shang Qinghua’s mouth.

It didn’t take long for Mobei Jun to take control. He had let Shang Qinghua lead for a while, go at his own pace, but he seemed to grow impatient. He’d flipped them over, pressed his hands up beneath Shang Qinghua’s clothes, and began touching him. His fingers were cool, firm, but gentle.

Shang Qinghua, over the next several minutes, found that he hadn’t really been thinking about anything. Before he was really aware of it, his clothes were off, Mobei Jun’s clothes were off, and Mobei Jun’s hands felt like they were everywhere. His own hands felt like they were everywhere. His body was hot, gathering a heated stickiness along his skin, and his mouth was sore.

Mobei Jun’s fingers were tangled into his hair, and every so often, there was a painful tug when they snagged just right, and that sensation, though jarring, was one of the most pleasant and identifiable feelings he had. Everything else was mud, bleeding together, into one big vat of warm pleasure.

He let Mobei Jun do as he pleased. He let him enjoy his prize, though he felt like he was enjoying a prize, too.

Shang Qinghua’s skin felt raw, from touch, from the sucking, from the kissing, from cumming into Mobei Jun’s fingers. It continued, whether he was spent or not, and Mobei Jun waited for himself, for so long, like he knew if he started, then it would end.

When the sun had risen, Mobei Jun had taken up permanent occupation of Shang Qinghua’s mouth, muffling every sound that escaped him, swallowing it down, as he finally entered him. It’d felt like they’d already been going for hours, but when Mobei Jun slid all the way to the base, Shang Qinghua felt like all of it had been nothing compared to that.

His legs were pushed up, near his ears, and Mobei Jun bore his weight down onto him as he began thrusting inside. Shang Qinghua, though everything had run together in a mess of pleased heat, felt wide awake then. He felt aware of everything. He was aware of every movement, every thrust, every kiss, every bite. 

He tangled his fingers into Mobei Jun’s hair and tugged his face away. He was gasping. “Breathe—let me—my king, let me breathe.”

Mobei Jun kissed down his jaw, but when Shang Qinghua began to pant, and then Mobei Jun slid right up against his prostate, he also began to moan. Mobei Jun covered his mouth again. “Be quiet,” he ordered quietly, muffled against Shang Qinghua’s mouth, “or I won’t let you breathe.”

Shang Qinghua tugged hard on his hair again. “Please,” he sobbed out.

Mobei Jun thrusted hard, but then stayed, buried as deep as he could go. He lifted his head. “Are you going to be quiet?”

Shang Qinghua was gasping again. He nodded. He shook his head.

Mobei Jun looked amused. “Breathe through your nose then.”

He ducked down to kiss him again, and picked up a rhythm again, slow at first, and then fast. He kissed Shang Qinghua hard, pressing in to suck on his tongue. Shang Qinghua felt lightheaded, from the lack of oxygen getting to his brain. Every time he tried to breathe through his nose, he got distracted from the kiss, wanting to kiss him back, wanting to roll his hips up into Mobei Jun’s, wanting to touch over his shoulders and his back. 

Right when he felt like he was going to lose consciousness, he yanked Mobei Jun’s hair hard.

Mobei Jun jerked, lifting his head to pin him with a glare. “What the fuck was that?”

“I’m—I can’t breathe,” Shang Qinghua panted. When Mobei Jun ducked back down as though Shang Qinghua hadn’t spoken, he pushed his head up, chin first, and Mobei Jun’s mouth met the column of his throat instead. “I really can’t. I can’t breathe through my nose, I want to kiss you.”

Mobei Jun reached down to hold onto one of Shang Qinghua’s hips. He chuckled. His thrusts turned more rolling, gentler, and he sucked another countless mark into Shang Qinghua’s collar. “Then be quiet.”

“I can’t,” Shang Qinghua whispered. “I’m telling you right now, I can’t.”

Mobei Jun pushed up. He let Shang Qinghua’s legs fall back down, and he held Shang Qinghua half up in his lap. “Front or back?” he asked.

“Huh?” Shang Qinghua asked, feeling dazed. He shifted his hips. Mobei Jun was still inside, but without the stimulation of movement, he was feeling desperate. “Why did you stop?”

Mobei Jun rocked into him gently, once and then twice, until he was rolling at a slow, barely-there pace. “Do you want to be on your back, or your front?”

Shang Qinghua blinked at him. He thought about it, but he also didn’t think about it. “Back,” he whispered. He wanted to look at Mobei Jun. And touch him. He reached out to hold onto Mobei Jun’s wrist, with a pathetic attempt to try and pull Mobei Jun back down so that he could kiss him.

Mobei Jun resisted the pull and reached over and grabbed something Shang Qinghua couldn’t see. He brought his hand up to Shang Qinghua’s face. He stuffed a portion of his own shirt into Shang Qinghua’s mouth. “Be quiet then,” he said.

Shang Qinghua blinked dumbly at him. Precum leaked out of his slit a moment later, and Mobei Jun saw. He smirked, hooked Shang Qinghua’s legs onto his elbows, and continued thrusting. His head tipped back slightly as he let out a long, pleased sigh. Shang Qinghua stared at him, hands helplessly on the bed, and he squeezed uselessly at the sheets. His mouth being full had stunned him to silence for only so long. He let out a small moan when Mobei Jun brushed up against the right spot again. His eyes closed. He wanted to kiss him again, even though he felt like he’d just caught his breath.

He reached up at Mobei Jun after a moment, but all Mobei Jun did was smirk down at him as he continued. He seemed to like the sight of Shang Qinghua with something stuffed in his mouth. Despite Shang Qinghua’s mild annoyance at it, he filed that information away for a later time. He reached out again, more demanding, and when Mobei Jun still didn’t move, he pulled the shirt out of his mouth.

“Come here,” Shang Qinghua breathed out. He let out a small, strained sound as he got closer and closer to his release. “Come here, my king.”

“You call me your king and order me around?” 

Shang Qinghua nodded thoughtlessly. 

Mobei Jun looked amused again. He didn’t seem angry.

“Come here, or I’ll start making noise.”

“And now you threaten me,” Mobei Jun said. He bent over him. 

Shang Qinghua’s hands met him and guided Mobei Jun’s face back to his own. Mobei Jun went pliantly, mouth meeting his in a kiss. It was gentler that time, somehow. He sighed. He had no idea kissing Mobei Jun would feel so addictive. 

Mobei Jun pulled back after a moment. It was soft and warm. 

“Do you like this?” Shang Qinghua asked quietly. 

“This?” Mobei Jun parroted. “What’s this?” He kissed him once. “That?” He ground his hips down into him. “Or that?”

Shang Qinghua picked his head up to meet him in another kiss. 

When he pulled away, Mobei Jun just stared down at him. “Yes,” he said, tone simple. 

Shang Qinghua smiled at him. 

Mobei Jun returned the smile, for just a moment, before he began to kiss over his throat again. “Are you close, Qinghua?”

The sound of his voice, saying his name, made Shang Qinghua shiver. He nodded. “Touch me,” he whispered.

“No,” Mobei Jun said. “I want you to cum on my cock.”

Shang Qinghua whined a little, but didn’t argue. He held Mobei Jun’s head to his shoulder and throat, and shifted down into Mobei Jun’s hips, thrusting himself on his cock. 

Mobei Jun began thrusting harder again, more and more, until Shang Qinghua was covering his mouth and tensing up. 

Shang Qinghua jerked, cum spurting out between them as Mobei Jun thrusted right up against his prostate, until he was empty. Not even a few moments later, Mobei Jun was stiffening up, biting into Shang Qinghua’s shoulder as he came, too. He rolled his hips into Shang Qinghua’s, pumping him full. 

It felt odd, and ticklish, and like it was too much. But Shang Qinghua liked it. He had liked all of it. 

He grabbed a fistful of Mobei Jun’s hair. He brought their mouths together again. Mobei Jun was more pliant that time. He returned the kiss, surprisingly sweet. Shang Qinghua slumped back into the bed, breath heavy, and he closed his eyes.

He’d been awake the entire night. They’d spent a long time, probably a couple hours, kissing and fucking, and Shang Qinghua was tired. He stroked his fingers down Mobei Jun’s back. “Thanks for listening to me,” he said.

“Mm,” Mobei Jun hummed. 

That was the best part, really. Not that Mobei Jun had listened, but that he felt as though the fact that he did wasn’t that big of a deal.

_________

Shang Qinghua had slept most of that day, after the storm. Mobei Jun had left to get them back on course, and let Shang Qinghua doze unbothered. Not that he was ever really bothering him. If anything, it felt like Shang Qinghua was the one who was always bothering Mobei Jun.

That night, Mobei Jun had fucked him again once he’d retired to his rooms. Afterwards, they ate together, and Shang Qinghua had fed him, just because he felt like it. Mobei Jun had seemed somewhat surprised by it, but he didn’t reject it. If anything, he seemed to be somewhat pleased by it. 

Shang Qinghua had noticed about him that he rarely acted like a king, in the traditional sense. He was commanding and his presence was large, and his leadership was undeniable. But he didn’t have the other, slimier qualities, and it made Shang Qinghua wonder if it left Mobei Jun not being treated as such.

After having that thought, he had made a point to watch for it. Over the next few days, in the midst of everything, Shang Qinghua assessed that, and he learned several things. He learned that Mobei Jun didn’t indulge in pleasures the way other kings did. People feared him, people did as he wished, but he didn’t wish for the same things that so many other kings wished for. 

One of the ways he’d found this out was the fact that everyone had seemed surprised when they saw the marks on Shang Qinghua’s neck. People treated him differently after that. He’d overheard some of the men talking about how they were surprised he’d demanded Shang Qinghua at all, let alone leave him in the cabin the entire time. They’d chalked it up to Mobei Jun falling for the “Seer” trap when he’d listened to Shang Qinghua asking him to change course. But then, the next time they’d seen Shang Qinghua, it was clear. 

Shang Qinghua’s conclusion was that he was treated as more of a general than a king, and that meant that Mobei Jun rarely indulged in pleasures. It was fortunate that Shang Qinghua was the one he’d chosen. Shang Qinghua knew just how to indulge him.

__________

Mobei Jun had been honest, in the end. 

Everything he’d said, or implied, or promised, had all been exactly what he’d done when they arrived back to his city. Shang Qinghua was treated almost like an extension of him, only with less authority. But it hadn’t taken long for his authority to be second only to Mobei Jun himself. He used it sometimes, and he could even see himself using it more as time went on.

A few months hadn’t really been long enough for him to feel fully safe in doing that yet. Sometimes it felt like he was still waiting to be punished for it. 

He hadn’t asked, because he hadn’t really wanted to hear the answer, but Shang Qinghua had found the answer to all of those questions when he’d arrived. He found out whether Mobei Jun had a wife, or wives, or concubines. He found out whether he had children, how he spent his time, who he spent that time with. It had turned out that there was no one. Mobei Jun was quite solitary, and in following Mobei Jun around, Shang Qinghua had seen truly how isolated he was. It made Shang Qinghua think of himself. Aimlessly wandering a palace, safe and privileged, yet alone.

Shang Qinghua also found that Mobei Jun was fond of him. At first, Shang Qinghua had wondered if he was just misunderstood. They spent their time together, and Mobei Jun was good to him, and there was no one else to compare to. Though after some time, he saw enough interactions with others that he realized Mobei Jun was understood just fine and he was quite ruthless to everyone else. Shang Qinghua was the outlier.

It warmed him to think about, each time he thought of it. 

There were women who had been waiting for Mobei Jun’s return. After news had spread of them winning, and of Shen Qingqiu returning with Luo Binghe, and Mobei Jun being the head of the success, there were people waiting to offer him more riches, and people who wanted to secure a position with him.

Mobei Jun had sent them out of the palace the moment he laid eyes on them, and then hadn’t spared them another thought since. Shang Qinghua, at first, had been treated like a concubine, despite the fact that Mobei Jun had never taken any before, and had never even married. Shang Qinghua still was unable to be categorized. Mobei Jun would, Shang Qinghua thought it was jokingly, refer to him as his prize whenever he was asked. Shang Qinghua found it attractive, but after a few months, he was starting to wonder if that was truly all that he was to him.

It was fine, really, if he was only a prize. What else would he be, and what else could he ask for? Being treated with so much respect, and being able to demand whatever he wanted, was a far cry from what it could have been. But, as he’d worried over that night on the ship when they first were together, genuine affection had come to haunt him. Haunt him, it did.

Shang Qinghua slept in Mobei Jun’s bed, ate his meals, sat in on his meetings, and even began taking some responsibilities since he was bored and Mobei Jun would let him. He would be ravished any time they were alone or whenever Mobei Jun felt like it, and then they would go to sleep together. Mobei Jun would hold him, caress him, kiss him, and say his name like he cared about him. Still, Shang Qinghua didn’t know what to expect.

One night, when Shang Qinghua had been there for almost a year, he lay on top of Mobei Jun’s chest. He’d ridden him that night, and when they’d finished, he’d slumped on top of him and then Mobei Jun had stroked soothingly down his back until they both fell asleep. Shang Qinghua, however, had only dozed, and when Mobei Jun’s fingers stilled the comforting movement, it had woken Shang Qinghua up. 

He stared out of the window, cheek smushed onto Mobei Jun’s clavicle. It was quiet. The sound of the ocean was faint, but there. He turned his head, until he was hovering over Mobei Jun’s face. It almost felt insane, the way Mobei Jun had trusted him. It made Shang Qinghua think of all the prizes in the world who’d gone back with someone, to be trusted in a king’s bed. It was miraculous so many kings were still alive. Even though Shang Qinghua was the only one in Mobei Jun’s bed, and he would never think to hurt him, he still felt protective, and even a little jealous. It annoyed him that Mobei Jun could be so vulnerable like that, at any time he chose. 

He leaned in, nose brushing over Mobei Jun’s. Mobei Jun stirred, only a little, and didn’t seem to wake.

“If you betray me,” Shang Qinghua murmured, so low even he could barely hear it, “I will never enter your bed again.” He held his face. “In fact, you should just kill me right then.”

Mobei Jun’s eyes opened. 

“Alright?” Shang Qinghua whispered.

Mobei Jun wrapped his arms around him and turned them over in the bed. He laid on top of Shang Qinghua instead, his head over Shang Qinghua’s heart. He got comfortable, one hand stroking down Shang Qinghua’s side. “Why would I betray the one dearest to me for another?” He said it like it was obvious.

Shang Qinghua’s heart thudded hard, and he wondered if it was only a sensation he could feel, or if Mobei Jun could hear it. 

“Don’t worry over useless, impossible things,” Mobei Jun murmured. His breath deepened again and evened out a few minutes later.

Shang Qinghua wrapped his arms around his shoulders, and up near his head. He settled his head back against the pillow. “Then don’t let anyone else become dear to you,” he muttered, feeling heavy with sleep. He shut his eyes. He heard a faint hum from Mobei Jun, like he was agreeing, even in his sleep.

That morning, Mobei Jun had woken him by kissing his mouth. He’d kissed him for a long while, like he was more aware of what Shang Qinghua had said the night before, and instead of using his words to reassure him, he kissed him until Shang Qinghua’s mouth was sore.

Shang Qinghua had watched him get up and go to the bathing chambers, and had went back to dozing on the bed. He thought about how one of the greatest gifts Mobei Jun had given him was the freedom to doze. He always hated waking right away.

As he slept, however, he had a vision, for the first time since the ship. 

In it, he watched, from his own perspective as he walked out of the bathing chambers himself, that a person of similar stature and hair, was climbing into their bed. Mobei Jun hadn’t been looking at him, so he hadn’t seen that it wasn’t him. The feeling of the weight dipping onto the bed wasn’t alarming, and he only looked up in time to see the person drive a knife between his ribs, as Shang Qinghua watched from the doorway.

It had felt like a dream, since it happened while he slept, but when he woke, it’d felt more real than any other vision he had ever had. So rarely were the visions from his perspective. They were omnipresent, most of the time. That time, however, it was just him, and he felt his own horror, and his own grief, and his own anger. 

He was disoriented. He was nauseous, and hot with rage, and his chest hurt with sadness. He stumbled out of the tangle of his blankets, and rushed to the bathroom. Mobei Jun wasn’t there. He was still tangling himself into his robe when he made it out of the bed chambers. He ran to Mobei Jun’s main hall, where he often did business. 

When he burst into the room, everyone looked, including Mobei Jun. 

He was speaking to a man and a woman. The woman looked to be someone that was intended to be an offer for marriage, and the man was the one trying to negotiate. If that wasn’t annoying enough, the man was the one in Shang Qinghua’s vision.

“Qinghua,” Mobei Jun said. He didn’t sound annoyed, but he did seem somewhat surprised. Perhaps at the state of him, mostly. “Is everything alright?”

Shang Qinghua walked to him with haste. He kept his eyes on the two in front of Mobei Jun. He stood beside him. His mouth parted on the words to demand they go speak in private, but he stopped himself. He couldn’t handle not being believed, and it didn’t matter whether Mobei Jun knew. He would make sure nothing happened.

He stood beside him, close, and pressed into his side. His hand came up, and he felt briefly over Mobei Jun’s ribs, as though wanting to be sure it hadn’t happened yet.

“Qinghua,” Mobei Jun said.

“Sorry,” Shang Qinghua said belatedly. He said nothing more.

“You may go,” Mobei Jun said to the two in front of them dismissively.

The two of them left, the man with a lingering gaze that Shang Qinghua caught, but without a fight. Shang Qinghua watched them leave.

When it was just the two of them left, Mobei Jun spoke. “You really do think I will cast you aside for someone else?” He sounded annoyed and bewildered at the same time.

“No, my king,” Shang Qinghua said. He turned into him. He hugged him. It felt nice, after having watched him die.

He was afraid of being unable to stop that fate. He was afraid Mobei Jun wouldn’t believe him, and that it would mean he almost purposely missed vital signs in order to prove it wouldn’t happen. Shang Qinghua had seen the hubris of men many times before.

“Then what on earth was that about?”

“I had a terrible dream,” Shang Qinghua said. He squeezed him. “A terrible dream.”

“A vision?”

“I was asleep,” Shang Qinghua said, hoping that Mobei Jun thought that meant it couldn’t have been. He didn’t want to lie.

“You were thinking of impossible things last night,” Mobei Jun commented after a moment. “Was that what you dreamed of?”

“No, it was a different sort of terrible,” Shang Qinghua muttered. He pressed into him. “Don’t make me leave your side today.”

“Alright,” Mobei Jun agreed, though dubious.

“What would you do, if someone wanted to kill me?” Shang Qinghua asked.

“Did someone threaten you?” Mobei Jun asked, pushing Shang Qinghua back to peer down at him. “Tell me the truth.”

“No,” Shang Qinghua said, holding onto his arms. “I just want to know what you would do.”

“I’m not stupid,” Mobei Jun snapped. “Why are you asking this?”

“I want to know how you feel about me,” Shang Qinghua said. “And I want to know if I’m just a prize to you, and if I’m making a fool of myself.”

Mobei Jun stared at him, looking incredibly annoyed. “And knowing that I would dismember a person for trying to kill you tells you what, exactly? You needed to hear that to understand that I love you?”

Shang Qinghua blinked, dumbfounded, and was effectively jolted from the horrible mood he’d plummeted into. 

“Are you saying you didn’t know that?” Mobei Jun sounded even more annoyed. The grip he had on Shang Qinghua’s arms was getting tighter. “Qinghua.”

Shang Qinghua pushed up to press his lips to Mobei Jun’s. He held onto his shoulders. “Do you mean it?” he whispered against him.

Mobei Jun was quiet for a moment, like the kiss had softened him. “Yes, you imbecile.”

Shang Qinghua held onto the front of his clothes. He pulled him into another kiss. “That makes me happy,” he admitted.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he demanded.

Shang Qinghua held his face. “Nothing, my king,” he assured. “My dream upset me. That’s all.”

“If someone ever threatens you, I must know,” Mobei Jun said. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Shang Qinghua assured. “No one has threatened me.”

Mobei Jun eyed him for another moment. He released him. “Fine. Let’s go. You need to get dressed.”

Shang Qinghua followed after him. He glanced back at the door, but there was nobody there.

__________

That night, Shang Qinghua knew it was coming. Mobei Jun had gotten dressed into the clothes that Shang Qinghua had seen on the floor beside the bed in his vision. In the vision, he’d been naked, as though Shang Qinghua had gone to wash up after having sex.

He resisted the sex that night. He said he was tired, and that he just wanted to sleep. Mobei Jun looked suspicious of that, but he didn’t force it. He seemed to still be on edge from how Shang Qinghua had been acting that morning. He knew that something was wrong, and he was getting more and more irritated at not knowing what it was.

Mobei Jun still took his shirt off when he went to bed, but his pants were still on. Shang Qinghua normally liked it, but the sight of his bright blood spilling out had been unbearable. 

He didn’t argue, since Mobei Jun was already reaching his limit of not commenting on abnormalities. 

Shang Qinghua laid with him, and he didn’t go to wash up. He was tense, stiff, but he still leaned comfortably against Mobei Jun. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Mobei Jun eventually said.

Shang Qinghua laughed a little. “Nothing, my king. I feel off today.”

“Clearly,” he snarked. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“My dream put me on edge,” Shang Qinghua said.

“So tell me what the dream was, then,” Mobei Jun said, sounding nearly at his wit’s end. 

“Just bad things happening,” Shang Qinghua murmured.

“I know you saw something. I’m not an idiot.”

“I know that you’re not,” Shang Qinghua murmured. He traced his finger down the line of Mobei Jun’s sternum, and then over his ribs. “It doesn’t matter what I saw. It won’t happen.”

“Then why won’t you tell me?”

“Because I am afraid of it happening,” Shang Qinghua said.

“I wouldn’t let something happen to you,” Mobei Jun said flatly. “So if telling me what you saw would help me do that, then just tell me.”

“It’s not that,” Shang Qinghua said. He pressed his palm flat to Mobei Jun’s stomach. “Don’t worry, my king. This one I’ll handle on my own.”

“Perhaps you won’t tell me tonight, but I’ll find out,” he assured. 

Shang Qinghua smiled. “Yes, I’m sure you will.”

Not long after, Mobei Jun fell asleep. He was still on his back, one arm around Shang Qinghua’s shoulders. Shang Qinghua was still lying with his head on Mobei Jun’s collarbone. The position felt safer to Shang Qinghua. There was no way for him to not feel someone get close, and Mobei Jun would know it too, for it would be a body that didn’t belong.

He remained awake the entire night, and into the hours of the morning. Even when the sound of the servants began to reach their bedroom, Shang Qinghua remained awake. There was no way for someone to have entered, and there was less likelihood that someone would try something with others around.

Shang Qinghua still didn’t know why they wanted to kill Mobei Jun. He almost didn’t care. The fact that they wanted to was enough to make him furious.

When Mobei Jun woke, Shang Qinghua felt much more at ease. He felt like he could finally relax, and then the tiredness hit him like a wave. Even still, he got up with him, ignored Mobei Jun eyeing him and already catching on to the fact that he hadn’t slept, and trudged after him to the bathing room.

Mobei Jun was a few steps ahead. 

Shang Qinghua heard something that sounded like a footstep. He perked up. 

He realized there was a window in that room, and the realization dawned on him in hardly a second. He lurched forward. “My king—!”

Mobei Jun paused at his voice, but Shang Qinghua had reached out as the door opened. He put his arm in front of Mobei Jun’s stomach, and Mobei Jun had stepped back just in time as the knife jutted out and missed him. Shang Qinghua’s arm got cut, but superficially. Mobei Jun grasped at him. He pushed Shang Qinghua away and to the side, ripped open the door to the bathing room, and caught the knife, the wrist that held it, and then assessed the room.

“Is that all?” he snarled. He broke the man’s wrist, took the dagger, and then drove it up into the man’s head through his chin, without any other word.

Shang Qinghua was absentmindedly holding onto his arm. He blinked dumbly at him.

Mobei Jun let the man drop to the floor. “Useless guards,” he said. He turned to Shang Qinghua. His eyes dropped to his arm. He stepped toward him and reached out to touch his hand. “Let me see.”

Shang Qinghua put his hand into Mobei Jun’s. He looked at the wound, brushed his thumb just to the side of it to see how deep it was, and then shifted Shang Qinghua’s sleeve to staunch some of the bleeding.

“Let’s go to the healer,” he said.

Shang Qinghua felt stupefied. He’d been terrified, all for it to have ended in a few moments. He didn’t move as he stared up at Mobei Jun’s face. 

“Qinghua,” he prompted. He looked at Shang Qinghua’s face more closely. “What is it?”

“Are you alright?” he asked, voice weak and raspy.

“I’m fine,” Mobei Jun said. His brows furrowed. “What?”

“Nothing,” Shang Qinghua murmured.

“Enough,” Mobei Jun said. He grasped Shang Qinghua’s chin and tilted his face up. “Tell me now.”

Shang Qinghua stared at him, and he felt his eyes dampen with relief. He shook his head. “It’s really nothing, now.”

“This is what your vision was about?” Mobei Jun asked, looking almost unimpressed. “I thought you saw tragic futures.”

“It was,” Shang Qinghua said, strained through the tightening of his throat. “For me. It was a tragedy for me.”

Mobei Jun frowned.

“You died. In my vision.”

Mobei Jun’s frown deepened.

“It was terrible,” Shang Qinghua said, voice watery. “It felt real.”

Mobei Jun stared at him for another moment. He sighed a little. He leaned down and in and wrapped him up in a comfortable embrace. “It’s alright,” he murmured. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“You don’t believe me,” Shang Qinghua muttered, unsurprised.

“It’s not that,” Mobei Jun said. “If it’s such a tragic reality for you that you’ll foresee it, then there’s no problem, is there?”

Shang Qinghua considered. “I suppose.”

“Next time, however,” Mobei Jun started, pulling away to look down at him, “you tell me. Understood?”

“Yes, my king,” Shang Qinghua said. 

Mobei Jun kissed his forehead. “Let’s go to the healer.”

Shang Qinghua caught his hand. He stared up at Mobei Jun’s face. “My king,” he said.

Mobei Jun brushed the hair out of his face. “Mm.”

“I love you.”

Mobei Jun caressed his face, and he smiled. It was a genuine one, one that Shang Qinghua rarely saw. He leaned down again and pressed his mouth to Shang Qinghua’s, gentle and chaste. “Then I win.”

Shang Qinghua swallowed tightly. He leaned in, nudging into the kiss. “You win. So here I am.”