The heaven-sent ... Bride?!

He never would have thought of marrying, let alone in such a way. Yet his bride came tumbled through his roof, sent straight from heaven.

He was in the process of replacing the large, broad red gauze curtains in his estate when suddenly someone with a scream plopped straight through the roof. The taut curtain caught his fall, but the young man got tangled up in it and pulled so hard that it even knocked the big demon Zhen yan off his feet.

»Sorry!« the involuntary visitor murmured and tried to stand up. Zhen yan reached for him, but the young man, completely tangled in the red gauze ribbons, fell again. 

»Sorry!« His face was now bright red, but he slipped on the gauze bandages and landed on his knees for the second time. Zhen yan helped him to stand up, but the man's leg was broken, so he fell down again, dragging the demon down with him. The two of them hit the ground and got up again three times, tightly entwined in the bright red curtains. Zhen yan couldn't help but smile amusedly.

»Shall we proceed to the wedding night, then?« he asked in a soft, dark voice. The man pushed the demon away in shock, his face bright red, his lips compressed and his forehead furrowed so deeply that his eyebrows touched. Zhen yan freed himself from the curtains and looked down at the young man, whose gaze fell in disbelief on the painting that represented heaven and earth.

The title »Tiandi« adorned the sky in fine, curved lines. Zhen yan raised an eyebrow. »Now you are my lawfully wedded wife before heaven and earth and the gods!« The man crawled a few meters away from him. He was young, Zhen yan estimated him to be in his early to mid-twenties, which was quite difficult to calculate in the case of mortals.

He had tied his dark hair into a high ponytail, the root of which was adorned with a silver, but not high-quality, hair crown. His almond-shaped eyes with black irises stared angrily at him. He had pale, almost white skin, which gave him the appearance of a young statue of a god. Only his face and the tips of his ears were red. With anger or shame, both ideas amused the demon very much.

He had pressed his lips together into a straight line, as if the most outrageous insults were piling up behind them, and he was trying with all his might to prevent his mouth from opening too soon. His clothing was in silver and dark blue tones and seemed to represent a clan with its elaborate embroidery; Zhen yan hadn't come down from his mountain in a long time, so these colors meant nothing to him. He bent down to the young man and felt his leg.

»What's your name?« he asked casually while he felt the fracture.

»That's none of your business,« the lad replied promptly, glad to finally give some expression to the pent-up anger inside him. Zhen yan looked at him and his dark green eyes bored into his. He knew that he radiated a presence. He was tall, his long black hair flowed down on him and merged with the robe of black and dark green.

Even under the layers of his Hanfu, one could recognize the strong, muscular body. He had a narrow face, high cheekbones and full lips that curled up into a mischievous smile again. »Am I not allowed to know the name of my husband?« he asked, feigning dismay. He had found the break and with a few murmured words he fixed it using magic.

The Wushan, as the humans called his home, was high. It was impossible that a broken leg was all the guy had gotten from his fall. Zhen yan drew back his sleeve with one movement and was about to reach for the man when the guy panicked and wiped away his hand. The demon pursed his lips into a grin. »Now, now, why so skittish, dearest?« he teased him.

»Tell me your name and I'll leave it at that for today,« he whispered just inches from the fallen man's face, openly enjoying the way the man blushed crimson again. The young man gritted his teeth as he first had to weigh or overcome the situation. Meanwhile, Zhen yan felt his other leg and thigh. It wasn't broken, but the foot was sprained and a nasty bruise was spreading across the snow-white skin. He was about to move on to the upper body when the young man drew back and kept his hands at a distance.

»Bai Ying yue,« he said softly. The demon gave him a sincere smile, their eyes met. »How fitting,« he whispered, then raised his fingers and gently touched Ying yue's songs. Surprised, but exhausted, he closed his eyes and fell deep into Zhen yan's magical sleep. The sun sank behind the mountain peak and the moon poured its bright, clear light over the estate. At this time of dusk, the fog settled around Wushan, which had given the mountain its name.

Zhen yan looked at Ying yue's face closely. He was an attractive young man, and now that his lips were slightly open, they didn't look so narrow anymore. He felt his head and found a bump that didn't look too serious. Except for a twisted wrist and three broken ribs, he was fine. Without much effort, he lifted Ying yue up and carried him through his estate.

It was spacious and consisted of a main house, a number of outbuildings, halls and pavilions. Whenever he had been bored, he had added on and expanded. The cool night air carried the scent of blossoming plum and cherry blossom trees to him. He carried the young man into his main house and carefully laid him on his bed, which he rarely used.

With practiced fingers, he loosened the belt and slipped off the robe. Bai Ying yue slept peacefully. After Zhen yan had made sure that he would not have his eyes scratched out immediately, he continued and exposed the man's naked skin. He was pale, you could even see his veins at his wrists. Still, he was muscular and well-built. He must have trained all his life.

Only the ugly bruises over the bruises and fractures ruined the image of an immortal. After he had treated the wounds caused by stones, leaves and branches and stabilized the fractures, he turned him onto his stomach. He gently stroked the irregular scars on Ying yue's back.

They were all different ages, depths and sizes. He must have been punished with great severity, or he had been repeatedly disciplined over the years, and while he was getting better and better at hiding the wounds, the strength of the one doing the whipping was waning.

After Zhen yan had finished, he couldn't resist a little further provocation and exchanged Ying yue's clothes for one of his robes. It had been several hundred years since he had last seen a mortal face, and he had to admit that he particularly liked the sight of Ying yue's crimson-red, ashamed head.

He went back to the neighboring house he had wanted to spruce up and surveyed the considerable hole in the roof. Nothing that couldn't be fixed, though. With a little magic and even fewer words, the splintered wood and broken tiles returned to where they had been an hour ago. Then he turned his attention to the bright red gauze curtains again.

The next morning.

A panicked scream woke not only Zhen yan, who was dreaming at his table, but also a pair of herons nearby, who took off bleating. Ying yue tumbled out of bed, but fell right back down because of the fracture and the magical fixation. Zhen yan got up without a rush, walked around his table and the bamboo screen and smiled at the young man.

»Why so panicked, my love?« he asked with an innocent expression. Ying yue heaved himself back onto the bed, although his shoulders trembled, he had clearly recovered faster than yesterday. He glared at Zhenyan, eyes sparkling with anger. Although his pigtail had come undone and he was wearing nothing but a robe, he gathered himself and sat up straight, as far as his ribs and leg would allow him. »Where are my clothes?« he demanded.

»It was torn and dirty,« Zhen yan replied lightly. »Did you tear it?« Ying yue wanted to know, his fingers clenching the hem of the blood-red fabric ominously. ‚The material of my clothes is woven from magical threads, so it doesn't tear easily,' he explained curtly.

»Oh, ho!« Zhen yan said. That explained why he had survived his fall from the mountain so easily, despite some fractures. »It was dirty,« he replied again. »I want it back!« Ying yue demanded, staring at Zhen yan with black, angry eyes. The blush had faded and the young man's face looked serious, as if carved in stone. That didn't make him any less attractive.

»You'll get it back as soon as you've recovered and left,« Zhen yan replied and turned away as Ying yue held him back. »How long will that take?« he asked. Zhen yan turned slightly to face him and gave him a look that slowly traveled up his body, but this time revealed nothing, except for the narrow line of his lips, how angry and ashamed Ying yue was about this behavior.

»That depends on how well you are in shape and how high your level of cultivation is...«

»It's excellent,« Ying yue answered abruptly. »Then maybe a month,« the demon finished his sentence. Ying yue's jaw bones twitched. »I could also be treated by a mortal doctor,« he said testily.

»And how do you get there?« Zhen yan asked back lightly.

»You...« Ying yue was getting angry. »Zhen yan,« he helped him out. ‚My name is Zhen yan. I am one of the oldest demons still alive and over fifty thousand years old,' he said willingly, and Ying yue's anger turned to horror, but he recovered faster than Zhen yan would have liked, and gave him another angry look.

He was about to say something else when the great demon had already disappeared behind the screen again. Bai Yingyue took a deep breath and tried to meditate, which usually came very easily to him, to heal his body faster, but every time he closed his eyes, he saw the impish smile of the demon.

What good does it do him to be over fifty thousand years old and still act like a devious child? He had never heard of a great demon named Zhen yan, so he couldn't be that great. Besides, any self-respecting demon would have torn him to shreds. It was one of the basic principles that cultists and demons were enemies, unless a cultist subjugated a demon and used it as a tool in battle, but even then it was not uncommon for the demon to betray its master.

It took him a few attempts before he managed to enter a state of meditation and further advance the healing in his body. He could hear someone pacing in the room and his heartbeat quickened as the steps came closer, but he had realized that Zhen yan was trying to scare him and didn't move a muscle, even when his breath brushed his cheek.

Something was placed beside the bed before the footsteps receded. Only after Ying yue was sure that he was alone in the room did he open his eyes, blinking slowly. In front of him stood a tray with rice, soup and two other dishes. Leaning against the wooden bed, he recognized his sword Xiaodan.

Ying yue reached for it and pulled the sword a few centimeters out of its sheath. Its blade was silvery white and the surface so clear that at first glance one might think it was liquid. Xiaodan was the only thing that truly belonged to him. As the son of a low-ranking concubine, he had enjoyed a good education and training until his father's main wife gave birth to a legitimate successor, his little half-brother Bai Lingxi. He put the blade back.

How brave of him to give me back my sword. Either he didn't realize that it had a soul and personality of its own, or he was arrogant enough to not care.

He had received Xiaodan for his fifth birthday and it had made an immediate impression on him, much to the annoyance of Lingxi's mother, who gave birth to an official son barely a year later.

»If you don't eat, you won't get better!« a dark, soft voice said. Ying yue had been so lost in thought that he couldn't hide his shock. His heart was pounding when he opened his eyes and saw Zhen yan standing opposite him. He had placed a small table between them, on his side was a bowl of lotus seeds that he was peeling and on Ying yue's side was the tray with the food.

»What do you want?« Ying yue asked at the end of his nerves. »First of all, that you eat something,« he replied, chewing on one of the peeled seeds. »Why?«

»Why not?« the demon asked in surprise. »Humans and Yao are enemies,« Ying yue said firmly. »Are they?« Zhen yan asked disinterestedly. ‚Don't lump me together with the lowly Yao. I'm much more than that,' he reprimanded him. Apparently arrogance was his weak spot. »What makes you special?« Ying yue asked angrily.

»You...« Zhen yan pointed at him, but his annoyance was not to be taken seriously. He shelled another seed and popped it into his mouth. »I haven't left the mountain for over four hundred years, so I don't know who is friend and who is foe. As long as no one bothers me, no one has made an enemy of me, and that's a good thing!« he said, lounging around on the seat cushion, half sitting and half leaning on the table.

Although he was an impressive figure, with long hair and wearing high-quality hanfu, he seemed to have no manners, not even in his own house.

»If you're such a bloodthirsty great demon, why don't you just kill me instead of keeping me alive?« Ying yue asked straight out. Zhen yan almost choked on the seed and looked at him, frowning. »Should I?« he asked belligerently. »I'd prefer if you didn't,« Ying yue admitted. Satisfied, Zhen yan shelled another seed and pointed at the now cold meal in front of him.

»Once we've settled this, eat!« he demanded. »I just don't understand why?« Ying yue asked, taking the tray slowly onto his lap. »Because you are my husband, entrusted to me by heaven and earth...« the demon thought for a moment, ‚since...' he replied so neutrally that it seemed mischievous again. He caught Ying yue off guard.

He hadn't expected mockery and ridicule after the serious conversation and choked violently on the soup. Zhen yan noticed, even though he had better control of his face, he couldn't hide his bright red ear tips. He shouted angrily: »Zhen yan, you are shameless!«