3

The world around him was bleak, dust and smoke settled like a fog. Even if he looked for hours, he wouldn't be able to find his surroundings. He could hear the things around him; shouting, crying, fighting.

But he couldn't hear him.

It was dark out now, the sun had set, and only the dim light of the moon was left to lead those away from this battle.

Luo Binghe did not leave the war grounds, he couldn't find him, and he wouldn't leave until he found him.

He had called out his name a few times, hadn't he?

His head pounded and his vision swam. He couldn't think, everything felt like a blur, he could feel the extra appendages slowly receding until he was left in his normal state, even his claws retracted.

For the first time in years, his mind was finally quiet.

No whispers or violent urges were surging throughout his mind, trying to twist his thoughts and lead him to raise his sword. Xin Mo was silent for the first time in years in his hand. His energies, both the spiritual and the demonic, were completely even, stabilized in perfect harmony.

It had never been that way before.

He couldn't see ten feet in front of him, there was too much debris and smoke. "Yuan-ge!" His legs felt like steel when he moved them, as though his meridians had been shattered before being entirely reformed all in a matter of a few seconds.

His body was quickly healing itself, but he was still feeling the effects. What had...what had his Shizun done? He had told him...he'd said...awful things, hadn't he? It all felt like a dream, a sick and twisted nightmare...but his Yuan-ge...he'd done something, he had said something, and in a bright flash of light his entire body practically shattered, every meridian shattered and was left to reform around the surging energy of both his spiritual and demonic heritage.

His senses felt clearer, his breathing easier, and there was a distinct lack of thrumming in the back of his mind, a quiet but persistent urge that he chained to the farthest parts of his mind to keep tight control over, for the first time since he was first a young boy, truly a young boy, those urges, that violence that had even made him fearful of himself, was silent.

"Yuan-ge!" His voice was louder now, it carried farther, but he still couldn't find Shen Yuan. He could move his legs easier now, his blood healed every broken bone and ligament, every meridian reformed stronger inside him, and his body thrummed with a new power that was entirely foreign yet so painstakingly familiar that he simultaneously wanted to rip it out of him to inspect it while also locking it deep inside himself and never letting it free.

Where was his Yuan-ge?

"Shen Qingxin!" His arm moved to raise Xin Mo, to do what? He didn't know, but the second his shoulder moved, he couldn't help but wince and clench his teeth as he peered down at the injury that was slow to heal.

Impaled.

A snow-white blade had impaled his shoulder, he had walked right into it.

His Shizun's face...he saw it clearly in his mind's eye. The sheer horror when Luo Binghe had walked forward into the blade, staring him directly in the eyes as he waited for something...anything. Perhaps for Shen Yuan to finally turn on him, perhaps to run away and leave him, anything...

Anything but drop his sword and yell.

Yell that they were even then, if it was such a concern for him then they were even now. His hand had pressed over the scar Luo Binghe knew for a fact was there, and he had walked closer without trepidation, yelling at him that enough was enough, and to...and to let him help. His hand had reached out, concern and frustration painting his beautiful face into a tight and dark expression.

There was a sharp pang inside his chest, and Luo Binghe felt this new energy inside him surge for a moment, almost making him fall to his knees from the sheer force of it; before it settled with a gentle warmth that was both foreign and entirely welcomed.

"Yuan-ge..." Luo Binghe breathed, a sting behind his eyes making his vision blurry as he desperately looked around again. Where was he? Where was his Shizun? He had to find him, those arrows...they likely had hurt him, and Luo Binghe...likely had hurt him. Where was he? Where was he? Where was-.

"From now on, this Master will follow you, no matter where you go."

The cold had never bothered him before...

For some time when he was young, he had always assumed it was because of his name; Binghe, glacier. Even when he was nothing more than a street rat, the cold never bothered him all that much. Maybe it was because he had always been so worried for that adoptive mother of his, and so he hadn't the time or care to focus on himself. Maybe even back then, when the world at least had some light and made some sense, his demonic heritage was already shining through. Giving him immunity where others would have long since fallen.

But now...he was freezing.

Ice had flooded his veins, and he felt as though he was being rooted to the ground.

That blast...the energy he felt coursing through him...it was foreign, but only in the way someone else's heart would be foreign to another's body, but it was entirely familiar; it was the same warmth, the same power, and the same essence that was his Shizun. They had been thrown away from each other, the fighting around them had ceased only for a moment, the fog had settled, and he stared at the scorched earth where that very portal had been opened.

A shrill shriek tore through the air, and a portal was opened. Luo Binghe walked through with the vigor of someone he used to be. His feet touched lush grass, crushing the wildflowers beneath his feet. He looked around slowly, trying to find that familiar figure, but he only saw a grand meadow around him, surrounded by trees that could be mountains. But when he finally turned around fully, he saw the willow tree that made him stop dead in his tracks.

He had been here before.

They both had been here before.

Shen Yuan's dream realm...it was a real place?

With a tight inhale, Luo Binghe called out, "Yuan-ge!" His feet took the first step, then the second, and he didn't hear anyone else around him. He sensed no others around him, but this place... was brimmed with spiritual energy, it was obviously a sacred place, but he couldn't care to focus on that.

He needed to find his Shizun.

"Shen Qingxin!"

The clouds above rumbled with every step he took, there was a storm coming, but the grass was already wet. It had already rained. The moon was hidden behind the clouds, but he could still see clearly even without its light, Luo Binghe searched his surroundings, shouting himself hoarse until he finally locked his sights on the willow tree.

From the distance, he could also see the glimmer of iron hidden in the lush grass. Whatever was left of it was in shards and scattered unevenly over the ground, it glimmered with a dull and white light. For a moment, he wanted to inspect it, but when he saw a familiar jade pendant attached to the hilt that still held a piece of the shattered blade, he backed away.

Why did this feel so familiar?

It was as though his very being knew not to step forward, his footfalls hesitated, and he held his breath. This felt too familiar. Why did it feel familiar?

Never one to heed his sense of warning, Luo Binghe reached out and grabbed the willow vines, pushing aside the thick canopy until he walked into the hidden realm. The base of the tree was strong and wide, practically the width of a moderately sized home, the leaves and vines were a rich color of emerald, and only a dim glow of the light of the moon was able to peer through the thick leaves.

Despite the ethereal realm he had wandered into, it was not the scenery that took hold of his attention.

But the man who was knelt on the ground before him.

Head bowed, a single white jade lotus blood him his hand from where vines nearly as thick as his forearm bound him from head to toe. Wildflowers grew along the vines, attempting to hide the thorns underneath, they were tangled and rooted in his hair, the tears of his clothes, and around the ground on which he knelt.

Two pure white chrysanthemums bloomed over his eyes, and a stream of blue lilies grew down from the vines that covered his eyes, almost like a stream of tears. But from his hair golden marigolds littered and tangled in his hair to the ground, bunching together tightly at the very ends and rooting themselves back on the ground in what could be described as a river of gold.

Luo Binghe hesitated to step forward.

This was familiar.

"Yuan-ge...?" His voice was not that of a Demon Lord, not the man who commanded both the northern and southern territories of the Demon Realm, not the master of Huan Hua Palace, but the disciple of Qing Jing. The young man who searched endlessly in one life for something he could never obtain, the young man who had suffered at the hands of everyone he thought he could trust, and from then on never opened his heart to trust again.

The young man who had awoken in a different world, with different memories, and with only a fraction of the power he had struggled all his life to obtain. The young man who had found a single source of light, that small beautiful, and broken smile, and clutched onto it. Desperate to hang on, unrelenting, and stubborn, he had set his sights on that smile, and in return had been given a hand to hold, and the reassurance that what he wanted—what he needed—would not be taken away from him.

That he would never leave him.

Yes, this voice was not the imposing and fearsome Demon Lord that mothers would warn their daughters about, that cultivators far and wide would try their luck with to slate their names in gold, only to be brought down by a mighty hand. This was the voice of a young man, whose heart was too desperate and soul too lonesome to be taken lightly, someone who would clutch onto anything good he could possess.

It was only Luo Binghe, and he was met with no response.

"Yuan-ge?" Luo Binghe called out again, each step he took calculating and hesitant.

His heart was aching in his chest, it felt like it would shatter if he took one wrong step. His lungs were constricting, he couldn't breathe, and his hands were too shaky to move. His legs gave out not a moment later. A body larger and heavier than a normal man, someone whom so many feared because of his stature alone, crumbled to his knees and cried out into the night, unable to move as each breath burned his throat and stabbed through his chest with each exhale.

"Shen Qingxin..." Luo Binghe called again, a shaking hand reached up and touched the vines that covered his eyes. Though unlike before...this time, the vines receded at his touch. No longer trying to drag him away, no longer trying to stop him.

Because the fate was sealed.

They did not need to stop him because there was nothing he could do.

And he knew this.

A rage unknown to him overtook him and as the vines receded from the man's face, he grabbed one and ripped it off of the Peak Lord, taking with it, a bloody flower. "Fight me! You dare mock me!? I'll burn you to the ground!" He threw away the vine and another from the ground practically snatched its fallen comrade and receded into the ground.

Luo Binghe seethed, drawing Xin Mo from its sheathe on his back, but nothing came.

There was nothing left to fight.

He was left in utter silence and with only the silent Peak Lord in front of him.

Panting raggedly, Xin Mo fell from his hands, hitting the ground with a solid thump as he turned back to face his Shizun. Only to find a droplet of blood running down his cheek from where the vine had been ripped away, it wasn't a large gash, nor was it something to worry too much about, but Luo Binghe still felt his heart sink at the sight.

A hand encompassed that cold cheek, a flood of warmth overcame the deathly cold skin and healed the small nick. Shen Yuan...still didn't move. The last of the vines receded, leaving Luo Binghe to support the Peak Lord in his arms. The single white jade lotus fell from limp and cold hands and the Demon Lord could only stare at the small splatter of crimson on its white petals.

Flowers fell from that body, like leaves falling in autumn and petals falling from the trees in spring. The flowers in his hair wilted and fell onto the earth, the others that had covered his eyes, rooted in his clothes, and wrapped around him found a similar fate. Wilting faster than the eye could see and falling onto the lush grass, dead.

The only one that was left, was the white jade lotus.

He took it in his hand, inspecting it carefully as he scowled. Emerald and sapphire conjoined in the middle of the bud, the longer he held it, the more desperate his heart became.

It soon too joined the others on the ground, only it did not wilt, or die.

Looking down at the body in his arms, Luo Binghe hissed through his teeth as he pushed his aching legs to stand, shuffling to the base of the willow to prop the Peak Lord against it. If one were to look in, they would not see the heartbreaking display this was. Perhaps only seeing a dutiful disciple laying his beloved master against the base of such a magnificent tree so as not to disturb his slumber, maybe even two lovers who were both weary from the war and had henceforth decided to rest in this ethereal realm.

His back was turned, so they would not see the silent tears that fell. His body was larger than the Peak Lord's, they would not see the blue tint of his lips, nor the ashen complexion that was not natural.

They would not see the truth.

Not when Luo Binghe knelt before that prone body, having been leaned up against the base of the willow, almost believable to his delusional senses that Shen Qingxin...his Shizun, his beloved, his...his mate, was merely asleep. He didn't touch him, for a moment, Luo Binghe could only stare, dazed and confused. He reached up to touch his own face and found himself surprised at the wetness there.

When was the last time he cried?

How long had it been? What had caused it? Why did–.

Oh.

No, he remembered now.

The last time he had cried...had been when he screamed and begged Shen Qingxin at the edge of Jue Di Gorge to not leave him, begged and cried for forgiveness, that the blade that had run him through was not meant for him. That Luo Binghe was sorry, that he would atone for his sins in any way he could; suffer through any torture as long as Shen Qingxin didn't leave him.

His Shizun had smiled at him and had said only the gentle words "I never...would."

Even in the Endless Abyss, even during the nights when his mind tortured him and Xin Mo fueled his nightmares. He didn't cry. There was nothing worth crying over, not without his Shizun, nothing was more important to him than his Shizun, nothing else could hurt him so deeply.

He was crying now.

"Shizun..." Luo Binghe croaked, pathetically and without trepidation, he looked up at the prone body in front of him, and for a moment, just a single moment, his delusional mind supplied him with the image of that chest rising and falling softly. "Shizun...everything I said, I didn't mean it. Forgive this wayward disciple...I didn't mean what I said...I just–."

He had to stop, lest the cry he had held so desperately in his chest break his words. He coughed through the sob, fruitlessly wiping at his eyes and he kneeled before his Shizun, waiting...

After a moment of unbearable silence, he continued. "Qingxin...You can hate me. I don't mind, I won't mind if you hate me, just don't leave. You can yell and hit me if you need to, I...I won't hurt you anymore. This...This worthless disciple won't cause any more problems, just please...don't leave me."

He remembered, he remembered the time in his past life where he would have burned the world to the ground to fill that deep chasm in his chest. He hadn't known at the time what he could need, so he tried to fill it with everything imaginable. Women, power, riches, nothing worked, and he was left surrounded by adoring wives and faithful men who would follow his every order. But he was alone.

He had lived a feared and lonely life. For some time, when he was younger, he thought that this was the way to live. By killing all of his enemies, leaving no one left to stand against him, and standing atop everyone else in the world, he would be complete, he could finally rest easy at night. Instead, it had only made him more paranoid, he could trust no one, and he could not go to anyone for comfort.

For it was he who had to supply the comfort, it was he who had to protect those under his care, and he could trust no one else to do the same for him. He could promise the safety and prosperity of his wives, consoling them whenever they needed it, and they would in turn serve their purpose when he called upon them. He could reassure his allies and those of his council of their longevity as long as they swore their allegiance to him.

But he could trust not a single person to return the favor, he could not believe a single one of them if they promised him their loyalty or love.

Because in the end, some way or another, he was always right in his paranoia.

Until...Until it wasn't just him.

Shen Yuan...his Shizun, had offered it time and time again. He had given it so freely and without a single want in return. He put himself in front of Luo Binghe time and time again, willing to protect him even though he knew that in the end, Luo Binghe could more than take care of himself. He swore not only his loyalty, but his heart to Luo Binghe, even without his words to confirm it, and proved it again and again every time Luo Binghe began to doubt.

He offered it in his smile. He offered it in gentle touches and encouraging talks. He offered it in the brave displays of loyalty, standing in front of a charging demon and taking the posion in his stead, jumping in front of the blade for him, giving everything he could...for him. He offered it in his benevolence, forgiving Luo Binghe time and time again, even when Luo Binghe felt that he did not deserve it. He offered it in his selflessness, giving his all without expecting anything out of it.

He would never be able to repay him.

He wanted to return every gesture, he wanted to show his love. He wanted to prove that he was different. That the monster Shen Yuan saw in his visions of the past was not him anymore. That he was better, that he could be better...for him. He was willing to do whatever it took, give up anything, procure anything, as long as he knew Shen Yuan could trust him...just as Luo Binghe had come to trust him with everything.

Because that was what he was. He was everything.

He was Luo Binghe's everything.

"Yuan-ge...I take it back, I take it all back. If I could–. If I could change it all...I would. You can leave me, that's fine. I won't try to stop you anymore...please, just open your eyes. Walk away from me. Leave me here. Please...Please just open your eyes."

Tears hit the ground in tune with the thunder above.

It was raining again.

Luo Binghe hated the rain.

He hated the rain because it washed away the proof. It washed away the memories. It was meant to cleanse the ground of the evidence of the truth. It left nothing in its wake but a wet and cold figure, shivering and fighting for his life.

What if he didn't want to lose that evidence?

What if he didn't want the stains of blood to vanish? What if he wanted to stand in the pool of blood? If only to torture himself. What right did the rain have to take it away? What right did it have to take away what was left of his heart? Why couldn't it just leave? Why did it have to take him away?

No one answered him.

The only company he had was the rain.

He felt the cold, he felt the ache in his very bones, he felt it all.

He couldn't handle it.

Even the strongest had to break eventually.

A desperate cry rang out in the cold night, the winds carried that broken voice until it echoed in the meadow, and not a single sound came after, the very world knowing better than to intrude on something so harrowing.

Calloused hands grabbed lithe shoulders, one moved to support the back of the neck, and the other reached around so that the limp body could rest in his arms again. "Shen Yuan!" The dead could not respond, and so Luo Binghe was left to scream himself hoarse, he shouted in unbearable agony, pressing that cold body to his own as if to trade his life. To hand over his own warmth, his own livelihood in exchange.

His screaming only stilled when blood finally dripped from his lips and fell onto porcelain skin. Uncontrollable sobs broke past bloody lips as he desperately tried to wipe them away, crying harder and harder as the blood only smeared and fresh drops continued to fall onto his cheeks. "Please! A-Yuan! Hate me if you must! Leave me if you need! But please live! Breathe so the sun will have reason to shine! Smile so spring will have reason to bloom!" No matter how he was jostled and no matter the blood on his cheek, Shen Yuan did not move, he did not respond, and the limp and hollow body held in strong arms was the same as a single leaf blown through a hurricane.

Luo Binghe continued to shout. He continued to beg and cry, but no one heard him. He buried his face in hair as black as ink and as gentle as silk. He screamed when the scent of bamboo was wilted, when vanilla was spoiled, and aloeswood had rotten.

He screamed until the winds could match his howling. Until the beasts of the forest cried out with him, joining in with the rageful and mournful cries. The world around him cried and screamed with him, but he was still alone, there was no one there with him, and he was left to hold the only one he had ever loved in his arms.

Finally, after hours, there was nothing left.

The rain had stopped, the beasts had silence, and the screams and cries of a man gone mad finally silenced.

A body was cradled in strong arms, skin ashen and lips blue, hair askew, and clothes were torn. Those arms that cradled him shivered and ached, the knees of the man that held him ached, the throat of that man was bloody and raw, and his face was damp with tears, eyes swollen and hair matted from the winds, and his own hands.

His silence was the deadliest sound he could have made, but twinged by such unbearable sorrow, that not even the beasts of the meadows feared to draw closer; if only to give their reverence before kneeling before that willow tree and closing their eyes.

A final plea, a desperate hope, a man gone mad, he said, "A-Yuan...Do not make me live in a world without you, please...I've lived a life like that...it was unbearably lonely..." His voice hitched and a hysterical laugh broke past bloody lips. "Back then...I never knew you...I never knew I could have had you...I don't know what happened to you in our past life, but this useless disciple apologizes for failing to protect you back then. Now...Now, A-Yuan...I've known you...You've enraptured me body and soul...I-I...I really can't lose you...I'll lose my mind, A-Yuan."

He smiled; a terrible and forced thing, fangs on display as blood dripped down his chin messily. He looked the very depiction of a man gone mad, but who could blame him? Who could look at a sight so pitiful and heartwrenching, and not feel an ounce of sympathy?

"A-Yuan...I'll miss your smile, I'll miss the way you braid my hair, I'll miss you calling my name, I'll...I'll miss your scent, I'll miss the way you try to hide behind your sleeve when you're flustered...I'll miss the way you scrunch your nose when you read, I'll miss your muttering when you're annoyed with something you've read or when someone has said something foolish, I'll...I'll miss you holding my hand, the way you squeeze it periodically; as if checking to make sure I'm still there." He went on and on, fingers gently circling the juncture of the body's neck, his face pressed into inky black hair that collected his tears. "I'll never leave you...A-Yuan. Not unless you want me to...You told me that you'd follow me...no matter what. You don't have to. I won't make you stay...You can live your own life if that's what you want...I just..."

His grip tightened and despite the body having long since gone cold, Luo Binghe held onto that fleeting sense of warmth with everything he had. "I'm a selfish man...A-Yuan. I'd never be able to leave you myself. I'd hang onto you and never let you go...But I could...O-Only if you asked me to. Only if you walked away. It's okay if you want to...This disciple will stay put, I won't follow you unless you want me to...I'll be fine by myself, as long as I know you're safe and happy, I can stay behind...only if you open your eyes...only if you breathe...otherwise, I-I...I really can't hang on A-Yuan...so please, don't...don't make me live in another world without you with me. Don't make me live another life without you in it. I've lived that life...I can't live it again, A-Yuan...I really can't."

Footsteps fell like snow on the ground, Luo Binghe heard them coming, but he didn't move to meet them.

What point was there?

"You're not supposed to be here." He recognized that eerie voice, and it only served to make his blood boil.

"Then kill me. Don't make me leave him, and don't make me live in a world without him." Luo Binghe growled, clutching Shen Yuan tighter. If he could die with his love in his arms, then it would be worth it. He'd see him in the next life, and the next time, he'd never let him go.

Nothing came. Not a blow, not a sword, not even an angry mob of cultivators. Luo Binghe growled when he turned his head to finally get a face to that voice, but was only surprised to find a pair of eyes that were identical to his beloved.

The woman before him was endowed in white, her eyes aglow and her hair reaching far past her ankles, golden marigolds were entwined with her hair, creating a river of gold down her back. She only smiled at him sympathetically as she stepped forward, walking past them to kneel before the base of that tree, all the while Luo Binghe watched her accusingly.

"No...You both deserve to go home, the fate is sealed, it has been written. But it can be changed, this is only one outcome." As she spoke, her hands folded in her lap, and she smiled at the Demon Lord. "Besides, It has been too long since I have seen my wife...I have stayed as long as I can, I have guided him as far as I could...what is left of fate...is up to the both of you now."

Luo Binghe tried to speak, perhaps ask what she had meant, but instead was forced to shut his eyes and clutch Shen Yuan protectively as winds stronger than the crashing tides rolled past him. The leaves of the willow scattered, taking the protection of the canopy with it, and when Luo Binghe opened his eyes again, that woman was gone.

Leaving only a single white jade Lotus blossom in front of him.

A single thing was spoken as the winds vanished, a last testament from an airy voice as the slow start of dawn came from the horizon.

"Fate does not play favorites, it will right the wrongs...but the matters of the heart are not the matters of the fates."

Sun poured in through an open window, sheer curtains that served no purpose but decoration did nothing to block out the light that illuminated the room with the early morning glow. The home was well-kept, clean, and organized. A large bookshelf stood proudly in the corner, wielding every novel ranging from cultivation manuals to romance stories. A low table brimming with tea and congee sat in the sunroom, hanging plants enchanted to never wilt hung from the rafters.

The kitchen was the liveliest of all, sweet and savory-smelling blends wafting from the pots, while gentle herbal tea was brewed. A natural stream flowed into the bathhouse connected, steaming from the enchanted hot springs without so much as making the wood of the home even slightly damp. From windows both enchanted and natural, the exterior of lush gardens and bamboo groves could be seen outside.

Such a magnificent house sat in the middle of this garden, surrounded by wildflowers and rare flora. A babbling brook ran under a small bridge that led to a willow tree fountain, but the serenity of this place was otherworldly, entirely made by design with only one person in mind.

A large bed sat in the final room, laid over the top of a lush carpet made of the softest furs imaginable, with a bedside table holding medicines and uneaten food on the surface. A single body lay in that bed, covered with the finest silk sheets and dressed in airy but modest sleeping robes. Hair as black as ink was well taken care of, oiled, and combed dutifully while skin blessed by the moon was left unblemished and glowing.

A single rune was left on the skin of the body, and after a long moment, it finally faded just as its brothers had, and with its departure, the jade pendant that had been placed in the spiritual offering circle cracked and shattered. A breath was held tightly, waiting as the prone body slowly regained some healthy color, lips turned from a light blue to a plush pink, and eyes the color of gemstones finally opened.

His meridians were fixed, not a single broken bone was left, and his body felt like it had been instilled with a breeze and filled with vigor. A powerful thrumming hummed in his chest, and where an empty chasm had once gaped like an open wound rested a strong spiritual core. As his eyes opened, he beheld the lavish and well-taken care of room he was in.

He didn't recognize this place. It looked like a mixture of a few different places he knew, but there were a few things that were different. The silks were all either a dark red or black, the sheer curtains only a little lighter in color. Otherwise, gentle pale greens and whites decorated the room.

He tried to look around for his surroundings, but instead, his full attention was taken by the man who pulled back the sheer curtains and stared at him with wide eyes that brimmed to the edge with tears.

A sudden memory came back to him.

A dream perhaps, but far too powerful and heartwrenching to be anything less than a memory of some kind. Whether it be his or the man's in front of him was left to be unsaid. A memory of howling winds and screams that tore through the night as beasts of all calibers cried out with that agonizing voice. A memory of desperate pleas, harrowing sobs and cries, and mournful admissions of devotion and love all said to a body that could not hear them, all spoken with such reverence to someone who could not return such affection.

He felt his eyes brimming with tears the more he thought about it and the more details his mind's eye supplied him with.

The man who pulled back the sheer curtains rushed forward instantly, falling to his knees at his bedside as he took his hand, fretting and desperately crying out for him. "A-Yuan! Are you alright!? Where does it hurt? Please, let me help, let me–." He was cut off by hands grabbing his shoulders, pulling him up to kneel on the bed next to him as Shen Yuan wrapped his arms around Luo Binghe's shoulders.

Shen Yuan pulled him down to sit on the bed, resting Luo Binghe's head on his shoulder as he patted his head and hummed to him soothingly. "Enough now, Binghe. It's done, it's all said and done..." Luo Binghe melted into his embrace, strong arms wrapping around his waist to hug him as the Demon Lord inhaled deeply with each breath to appreciate the healthy scent of bamboo, vanilla, and aloeswood.

Shen Yuan continued to hum soothingly as he patted the man's head, thinking over his memories and the dreams he had, the visions he saw, and the truths he beheld. In the end, he knew what he wanted to say, and pulled Luo Binghe far enough away from him so he could look the man in the eye, despite his urgent protests as the disciple gripped his Shizun's robes desperately.

"Just listen to me for a moment, Binghe." Shen Yuan ordered, and Luo Binghe slowly let go, pursing his lips as he waited for Shen Yuan to speak. Though he made a startled sound when gentle hands cupped his face and a smile that could outshine the heavens spread across the Peak Lord's face. "I chose you. I still choose you. You're my fated one, and the one I wish to be with from now until forever. You will be the only one I take, the only one I will love and give myself to, and the one I will never leave. I promised you, Luo Binghe. From here on out, this Master will follow you, no matter where you go. Do not expect me to leave you, and do not push me away, for I will not leave."

Luo Binghe stared at him with wide eyes, the tears that had been weakly held back finally cascaded down his face at the declaration, and those gentle hands only wiped at his cheeks as Shen Yuan cooed to him. "What are you crying for? Is my disciple so maiden-hearted? That's alright, I can be the strong one for us."

The Demon Lord surged forward, toppling Shen Yuan onto the bed as legs larger than his own bracketed his sides, and the arms that wrapped around his torso kept his upper half lifted off the bed. "No...I'll protect A-Yuan from now on, he doesn't need to do anything else anymore. This one will protect the both of us, Binghe won't let anything hurt A-Yuan ever again."

Shen Yuan huffed at his disciple, flicking him on the side of the head he pushed Luo Binghe to let him sit up again. "Silly disciple..." He murmured, smiling a little wider when he saw Luo Binghe smile slightly. "What Shizun would I be if I didn't protect my disciple?"

"The best Shizun..." Luo Binghe answered, pressing a kiss to Shen Yuan's forehead before slowly moving down, grinning a little wider each time he saw Shen Yuan flush until his lips gently brushed across the Peak Lord's. He didn't move forward, but Shen Yuan had grown rather impatient, and sue him! He had the hottest mate in the world! He was allowed to be a little selfish! Especially with all the bullshit he had put up with! Shen Yuan pushed forward and initiated the kiss, earning a pleased rumble from Luo Binghe's chest until the two pulled away. "My Shizun...My Yuan-ge...A-Yuan, my love. The best Shizun, the most benevolent, my beloved."

"Mm, Binghe...such a sappy Emperor...This disciple of mine is truly such a sweet talker..." Shen Yuan murmured as he pressed his head against Luo Binghe's shoulder, sighing in heavy relief when he felt those strong arms wrap around him protectively.

For the first time in so long...it felt nice to be protected like this.

"What did Binghe do to bring me back?" Shen Yuan asked after a moment of silence, making sure his grip around Luo Binghe's shoulders was tight enough so this disciple of his wouldn't try to pull away.

Luo Binghe hummed muffledly, having pressed his face into Shen Yuan's hair. "This disciple went to the Holy Masueloum, found the scrolls of resurrection, and completed the ritual for a few months in the Masueloum while he built our home...A-Yuan has only been asleep in our home for a few nights."

Shen Yuan hummed sharply as he scanned the room slowly once again, had...had Luo Binghe truly built all of this by hand? The extremes this young man went for him... "What of the others? Huan Hua Palace? Cang Qiong? Your parents and Zhuzhi-Lang?"

"After the battle, I took A-Yuan to the Holy Masueloum and began the ritual. Then I returned to the war grounds and called for a cease-fire from the southern and northern borders. Huan Hua Palace is currently being rebuilt and many of the disciples are hesitant on whether or not to stay. Zhao Hua Monastery and Tian Yi Temple were relatively unharmed with some casualties, and Cang Qiong was entirely unaffected with very few casualties..." Luo Binghe stated in full as he pushed himself away just enough to see Shen Yuan's expression.

"However?" Shen Yuan questioned knowingly, having not missed the pause in Luo Binghe's speech.

Luo Binghe groaned in annoyance, clutching onto Shen Yuan just a little tighter as he gave his admission. "Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan were less than...enthused of my methods of bringing back A-Yuan...they were furious and demanded your body back...Tianlang and Xiyan both came to our defense and tried to placate them though they two both have shared their grievances with me more than once over my not allowing anyone to intrude on Yuan-ge's sleep, there have been some...tensions over the past months that A-Yuan has been asleep."

Shen Yuan sighed tiredly, already feeling like he could go back to sleep for a hundred years. Why did he have to deal with all of this, huh?! He should just let everyone else handle this! Let them all act like the adults and diplomatic leaders that they were and do this without him involved!

Shen Yuan leaned back with a groan until Luo Binghe let him fall back onto the bed, joining him at his side as he curled around Shen Yuan, smiling and chuckling softly when the Peak Lord practically tried to bury himself in Luo Binghe's chest, holding onto the Demon Lord just as clingingly as the Demon Lord did to him.

"We have to deal with this...don't we?" Shen Yuan sighed.

"Not unless Shizun wants to, we could stay here. No one would find us." Luo Binghe hummed knowingly, and Shen Yuan had to vehemently remind himself that he was responsible for the upkeep of his duties and that he could not fall into the temptations of Luo Binghe's offer.

"Hush...silly disciple. We have to take care of this, it's only right. I likely gave my brothers and your parents a heart attack...even after I promised them I wouldn't." Shen Yuan scolded mildly and Luo Binghe only hummed shortly before bringing Shen Yuan with him as he sat up.

"Would A-Yuan like to eat breakfast and see our home before we deal with these things? The rest can wait for later." As he asked, he gave his best puppy dog eyes, and Shen Yuan felt his scowl form on his face.

Damn, Luo Binghe and his puppy dog eyes!

"Damn your temptations..." Shen Yuan murmured as Luo Binghe chuckled triumphantly. "Fine...I suppose it doesn't matter if we're a little late."