MENOX_ZEN

A scholar. A soldier. A shattered empire.
Mihir was never meant to marry. Born a Brahmin without caste in a world where only men remained, his life was supposed to be spent in silence—chanting verses, not carrying blades. His guru gives him a single order:
“Begin your married life.”
No names. No destination. Just a choice.

West to India.
East to the past.

He walks east.

In the bloodstained borderlands of the Tang Dynasty, he finds him—Zhang Zheng. A fallen Chinese commander, carved in scars and silence, abandoned like a broken sword in the dirt. Mihir doesn’t know his name. Doesn’t know his war. But he stops. And saves him.

That moment rewrites empires.

Zhang Zheng is not just wounded—he’s hunted. A father of four. A ghost of a disgraced dynasty. His enemies wear his family’s faces, and his mother—the one the world thinks is dead—has returned to burn it all down.

Mihir never asked for this.

But he’s already stepped into a dying man’s war.
Already tied to children who call him father.
Already bound to a man who refuses to beg, but bleeds like he’s praying for something he no longer believes in.

This isn’t love.
This is survival.
This is destiny wrapped in barbed wire and bound by fire.

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Indian × Chinese | BL | Historical Fantasy | Tang Dynasty, 7th Century

This story is born from ashes—of lost dynasties, broken families, and forgotten names.
It is not soft.
It is not safe.
It’s a story of two men—one a wandering scholar from India, the other a disgraced commander from China—who were never meant to cross paths, let alone share a life.

In a world with no women, where Alphas, Betas, Omegas, and Enigmas shape society, love still bleeds red.
This isn’t a love story wrapped in flowers.
It’s one wrapped in war, betrayal, and fire.

I wrote this for those who crave something different—not polished and perfect, but raw, cold, and tangled.
If you came for softness, turn away.
If you came for truth carved into steel,
welcome.

—Menox :)

GOLDENblack (BL)

The night was cooler than usual. Clouds had cleared, and the moon poured silver onto the tiled roofs like a blessing.

The air in his room felt too still, like a thought unfinished. So he stepped outside — barefoot, his robe wrapped loose around him, ink stains still faint on his fingers.

The garden was silent. The plum trees were in bloom, though it was not quite their season. A few stubborn blossoms clung to the branches, shivering in the breeze.

He turned the corner of the inner courtyard — and stopped.

Alone.Training.Under the moonlight.

His body moved slow and deliberate, a sword in hand — not for war, but for memory. His bare chest gleamed faintly with sweat, each muscle working like a whisper. The deep scar on his shoulder glinted like a secret. His hair was tied in a loose knot, strands falling free across his cheek.

There was something wild in it. Not rage — no. A kind of quiet hunger.

A man trying to remember who he was.A man reclaiming his shadow.

Mihir did not mean to stare, but he couldn't move.

Zhang paused mid-form. His eyes flicked to Mihir.

The silence curled around them, like incense smoke.

Then — Zhang lowered his sword. Let it rest on the stone bench beside him. He walked over, slow, unhurried.

"You're awake," he said, voice low.

"Is it strange to see me like this?" Zhang asked.

Mihir's eyes lingered on the curve of Zhang's collarbone, the rise and fall of his breath."Yes," he said honestly. "It is."

"You look like a poem someone tried to burn," Mihir added. "But some lines just wouldn't die."

They stood close now — too close, maybe — the scent of sweat and sandalwood and cold iron between them.

Mihir reached up before he could think. A strand of hair had fallen across Zhang's face. He brushed it back behind his ear.

Their eyes locked — not in a challenge, not in fear, but in that still moment when two rivers meet and don't yet know what they'll become.

"You should sleep," Zhang whispered. "It's cold."

But just before he walked away, he said softly:

"You don't need a sword to be dangerous, Zhang Zheng.You already are."

Chapter 12 : Beneath the Breathless Moon