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He Was Made For Untidy Rooms and Rumpled Beds

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Luo Binghe cards his fingers through his sleeping husband’s hair and considers what is to be done with the other him. The one that came into his household and disrupted their life with such inconvenience. He does not think of the potentially endless variants of himself, each with their own life, living in Palaces of their own creation but the man he met. Raising a lock of hair to his lips he kissed the end. Setting the lock down, he stroked his index finger across the side of a soft, sleeping face. Shen Qingqiu scrunched his nose at the intrusion into his rest.

Luo Binghe used his free hand to smooth back Shen Qingqiu’s hair away from his forehead in an effort to calm his husband, and wondered…what would his Shizun would do?

Luo Binghe’s initial instincts had been to rend that version of himself limb from limb but after the reveal of Shen Qingqiu’s identity…he considered that he might have room in his heart to be merciful. That version of him, that twisted reflection, was all that Luo Binghe never was. A cold, unfortunate duplicate, that never had the love of a Shen Yuan to guide him into being a better man.

He imagined on several nights like this, growing up with only a cruel Master like the Shizun he knew of before the fever. He had spent years believing he had somehow changed that man’s mind and earned his love, and while Shizun's hands were the ones to reach out to him, the person inside was changed entirely. The stuffing swapped out. 

Shen Qingqiu felt sadness for that version of him. Courteous, and good at getting his way but ultimately searching for a someone to affirm his worth. His husband never said such a thing, but Luo Binghe knew his Shen Qingqiu, who spoke of the other version they met with fear…and great empathy. Like he wanted to bring him into his arms, and soothe his aches.

Picking up a lock of hair once more, he twirled it betwixt his fingers. Luo Binghe leaned over and pressed a kiss onto that smooth forehead deciding that he could spare some pity for that wretch.

That did not mean he wouldn’t get his vengeance for the intruder’s crimes. He had never been a man to forget slights to his Shizun and so, on a quiet day he grabbed Xin Mo and tore a hole into space and time, searching out an energy signature similar to one he felt prior. The space around him was cold, and black. The pressure of the swirling space scraping annoyingly against his skin. He gathered that Luo Binghe’s blood in the form of the washcloth used on his wounds when he was tended to by Shizun as soon as the man fled. Now Binghe used it as a medium, finding several echoing pings calling out from the dark. The…taste…of one felt familiar. He clenched the cloth in his fist, the dried blood stiffening the fabric. 

He had the advantage.

He didn’t spend his youth fucking his way through his problems instead of learning how to control himself. Turning to dual cultivation as a crutch for the difficulties of his bloodline. Luo Binghe, in true protagonist fashion, was able to cultivate both the demonic path, and the righteous one. This accelerated his growth by bounds that were unheard of, even in the Demon Realm. It was rare, impossible, for there to be a human-demon hybrid before him because that was how the story went. He was meant to be special, his parents inexplicable compatibility leading to his birth. His cultivation caused a restless hunger to seep into his bones, his Yang energy already abundant without enough Yin to balance it, made worse by his practice. To explain the severity, succubus poisoning forced the body to spill out excess Yang energy which was then sucked out by the succubus. If too much Yang energy was taken, the body would die, or lose years off its life. Contrarily, excess Yang equalled a libido that would ask to be quenched, constantly.

In the face of Xin Mo he can almost understand why that useless thing turned to his hundreds of wives to deplete his Yang energy and gather Yin, but only just. The sword was a historic eater of all things, giving power while consuming the user. Draining their life energy while simultaneously increasing their Yang. A user would feel powerful, and virile while dying in slow increments. That version of him, managed to tame the sword somewhat in that it did not leech away his life; however weak to the matters of the flesh, that man could only bleed off the excess through carnal acts instead of learning how to mediate the energy outwards, return it to a neutral state, and reabsorb it. When Luo Binghe searched for a path that did not involve a harem, the Heaven’s answered, opening up a road for him to traverse. 

Luo Binghe used the years of self-control he built up living with Shen Qingqiu to command the legendary blade, bending it to his will, and turning its curse into power. Compared to his disciple-hood it was a remarkably easy task.

One that had become even easier upon his marriage to Shen Qingqiu, sparking some subtle ideas of the compatibility of their souls, and why it was A’Yuan, in particular, who was sent to him. Reaching the dimension he saw with such scorn he licked the top of one slowly sharpening canine with his tongue in anticipation.

This would be such…fun.


Luo Bingmei descends on Luo Bingge’s Palace like the wrath of a vengeful God. Unbeknownst to him, he is much like Godzilla, or some other large monster, crashing into Tokyo with little, to no care regarding his surroundings, or the fleeing of the servants. He comes down like a meteor of rage and fury, crashing through all of the barriers guarding the Palace to slip directly through the window that housed the room in which he sensed the other him who was…

Fornicating with Ning Ying Ying.

Gagging, Luo Binghe moved back and swore, hopping back to stand on the sill of the window. Which was a terrible choice because now he could see more, and he never wanted to see any of that. Trying very hard to only look at the double, while maintaining spatial awareness, he snarled out, “Ning Ying Ying? Ning. Ying. Ying. What is wrong with you?”

That was their shijieand he knew she was in the Palace, but he never wanted to see her naked…with a version of his pillar inside of her. It was like catching his sister making love…to himself. It made his skin crawl. There was nothing wrong with his shijie she was very…pretty? She was also his shijie. It was wrong.

Cursing, Luo Bingge did the decent thing and covered his wife, because a concubine was still a wife of sorts. He stood up to shove his pants on, tying the sides as Ning Ying Ying stared wide-eyed, blanket clutched to her chest at the two Luo Binghe’s.

Visibly disgusted, Luo Bingmei put his fingers on the bridge of his nose pinching it, before spreading his palms out and looking upwards, as though to appeal to the Heaven’s. He then glided over to grab his other self by the hair, cut open a tear in space and time, and moved through it, calling out behind him, “Do not worry. This Lord will return him in good condition. You...have a pleasant evening.”

He does not ask why she married the man he’s dragging through a portal by his hair. He doesn’t want to know. The snarling mess tries to punch him in the kidneys.

He dislocates both the man’s shoulders and his hips, taking out a length of red immortal binding cable and making quick work of subduing him. They are in the nowhere space. They have the time for Luo Binghe to ensure that this animal, perpetually in heat, keeps himself respectable while in the presence of his husband.

Grabbing a Pear of Cleanliness from his space pouch (it had taken weeks to find one), he shoves in down other him’s throat, holding a hand over Bingge’s mouth, and pinching his nose until he swallowed. There, that should muzzle him, for a few shichen at least.

Coughing Luo Bingge glared at him, and rasped out, “What are you doing?”

Luo Bingmei rolled his eyes and answered, “This Lord was planning on torturing you, but Shizun feels pity for you…for reasons that are beyond me. His heart is as vast and forgiving as Guanyin’s. In light of that…this Lord has decided to be…merciful.” He spits the words out like they pain him.

Punching his doppelgänger in the stomach Bingmei relishes the sound he makes. Maybe he’ll beat him first. He is not solely angry at this version of himself, he is angry at what he could have become. His pride bristling at the thought of being so incapable of regulating himself, that some incarnation of him managed to stick his cock into Ning Ying Ying of all people.

Dragging the wriggling body to their rooms, Luo Binghe shoved it behind a hinged folding screen, pushing a cloth into the man’s mouth, and tying a length of binding cable around his head to keep the cloth in place and further gag him.

“Be silent, or you’ll ruin everything,” Binghe commanded, standing to brush his hands on the front of his robes as though they were dirty from touching the other version of himself.

It was a strange image for Luo Bingge to be sat on the floor, his own face staring down at him with disgust.

Luo Bingge’s mind cycled through things he could do, would do, to a person he disliked, and he began to circulate his blood as best he could to flush out the suppression in his system. He had to admit, he was curious as to why he was in these rooms again hidden like a basket of dirty laundry, instead of in the dungeons. He was bound and uncomfortable but it wasn’t the worst he’d felt, and it certainly wasn’t the worst he could do to someone, if pressed.

Luo Bingge watched through the crack in the screen as Luo Bingmei escorted a scantily clad Shen Qingqiu to their bed. His former Shizun was carried in both of his twin’s arms. Today he was, again, in green, though the fabric was darker. The beading was exquisite, forming abstract patterns that hid his sensitive areas just so, in light of the sheer gauze used to create these “sleeping robes”.

Pale arms, were wrapped around a neck that led to a face like his, as Shizun, with gentle motions rubbed his nose against one…just…like…his own.

He watched as a mouth descended on his Shizun’s, teeth nipping until that plush mouth turned red, and a flush began to spread over creamy cheeks. His shoulders looked massive compared to the more compact frame of his Shizun. Bigger than his wives, but not…

The man, threw Shen Qingqiu up a bit to readjust the hold, standing with Shen Qingqiu’s legs parted around his hips. Splayed obscenely wide. From the crack between the panels his view was that of the back of his double, two long legs beginning to peek out from rucked up robes. A mouth on a white neck. Sharp teeth.

He felt his own canines descend, his claws uselessly lengthening into black points.

Shen Qingqiu gasped, his head rolling back, his legs twitching, and that man’s hands had to be on that plush rear holding him, perhaps one was on that slender back for balance with the other kneading the tender flesh below?

He watched his double lay out a flushed Shen Qingqiu onto that massive bed he still dreamed of in his own Palace, he had fought the urge to commission one much like it for days. His double shrugged off his own clothes, the muscles of his back flexing, his skin a few shades darker that the translucent white of Shen Qingqiu.

He could see the bed. He laughed in his mind, not daring to make a sound, at what this version of him was about to do.

His watched his own hips roll with a walk he had never done himself, feline, predatory, and slow, as the man loomed over the bed, leaning over his prey.

His twin caught one pale ankle in his grip. Shen Qingqiu not bothering to try and close his legs to preserve modesty, that mouth nipping at delicate toes before it traced down to an ankle bone, leaving a harsh mark where it paused. Drawing blood. The foot twitched and tried to retract, but the hand stayed, holding it in place. The other hand moved to part the thigh of the leg not yet trapped in his hold.

His double got on the bed in a standing kneel between Shen Qingqiu’s thighs, and he could not see that face, but he knew it must be hungry.

He does not call attention to himself, his mind transfixed by the view.

He spends what feels like forever, watching himself lave attention onto those legs, his mouth cavernous, the red blooming on white set off by the darkness of the green. He can barely make out Shen Qingqiu’s face from this position, the incline an unfortunate imposition but he can see his legs and hear the soft gasps he makes.

“B-Binghe,” is breathily called out a time or two, as his double suckles on a sensitive spot. When he finally makes his way to the crux of those thighs, and takes Shen Qingqiu’s cock into his mouth it feels like relief. His own throat convulses as he watches, saliva pooling on his tongue. He has sat himself up as best he can, able to see Shen Qingqiu’s face in the haze of his pleasure now that his double is flat on the bed. He watched his curls sway as he brings his husband pleasure.

Big hands clenched slender hips as they kept Shen Qingqiu from moving. Shizun’s lips were bitten red and parted, his eyes hazy as he threw his head back, stuttering out Luo Binghe’s name, “B-Binghe. Binghe, I-I can’t -.”

Shen Qingqiu came with helpless little trembles in his legs and form, one hand coming to his mouth to cover his parted lips. His face rosy, and his eyes damp with lust. His twin takes a moment to presumably suck their Shizun dry, before he slid up, a massive grin on his face. It’s one Luo Bingge can feel, more than see.

And hadn’t that been something?

To see the way he was so soft with this Shen Qingqiu, so gentle, and yet…so vicious. There are bruises on Shen Qingqiu’s legs that are so purple, they look black in the light.

…He watched Shen Qingqiu let him make those marks, and re-fresh others. Watched that stoic man, allow him, Luo Binghe, of all people, to take him apart. His Shizun was pliant after his orgasm. He laid back on the pillows without the strength to move.

It was with ease that his double turned that languid body, changing the angle so that Luo Bingge’s view was that of the couple from the side. Shen Qingqiu’s hair spilled off the bed, like paint knocked off a table.

On the man’s face was a gentle smile. His hands cupping Shen Qingqiu’s cheeks. Luo Bingge knew that visage so well from his youth. The man’s fingers moved to Shen Qingqiu’s forehead, and smoothed his hair back in supplication, before he massaged different parts of his body. His twin chuckled as Shen Qingqiu brought a hand to his mouth to cover a coquettish yawn instead of a wail of pleasure. His nose wrinkling at the action.

His double opened the sorry excuse for a robe fully, and loomed above the figure laying trustingly below him, as though Luo Binghe never wronged him in his life. As though Shen Qingqiu never wronged Luo Binghe. Raising those hips up with ease, the double slicked his fingers with unguent.

His own pillar had been hard since long ago, but the sight, even obstructed, of a man who looked like him, pulling a plug the size of his cock, out of winking rosebud he could not see, made him shiver with want.

His double was crooning nonsense, and sweet words that burned his ears, “You always take me so well husband. So sweet for me, let your Binghe get you ready, hmm?”

Luo Bingge did not expect him to flip Shen Qingqiu over, forcing their Shizun up onto his knees. Face down, rear exposed to that hungry mouth. It was shameful. Large hands rolled pebbling red nipples between them, as his face buried itself into the part of those pert white globes, and…licked them open. Hands moved to hips holding them up, Shen Qingqiu’s shocked wail pierced the air, with a sensual sound, “Ah, ah.”

Luo Binghe groaned in response, burying himself deeper.

Shen Qingqiu rolled his hips back, small hiccuping sobs leaving his throat, “Binghe it, i-it’s dirty,” he complained.

Wasn’t that sweet, as though there was a single part of Shen Yuan's body that Luo Binghe would refuse to put his mouth on?

Luo Binghe pulled himself up for air, his voice low, his eyes glowing red as he crooned out, “Allow me this, let me please you. Shizun. You know how much your disciple loves your taste. How you melt for my tongue, and Shizun likes it too, doesn’t he?” One of the man’s hands moved to stroke a rosebud he could not see. His counterpart called Shen Qingqiu, Shizun in bed, why didn’t that surprise him? Nothing about the situation warranted that name…and yet…it felt so right.

Shen Qingqiu flushed and buried his face in his crossed arms. “Nothing about Shizun is dirty,” Binghe coaxed as he returned to parted cheeks, taking the actions of hiding as permission. Only this time he allowed his fingers to join his tongue. The succubus on the bed shakily rocked back onto those intruding digits. His double devoured him. Their pillars were both leaking copious amounts of pre-cum, either drooling onto the bedsheets below them, or staining their own pants.

Luo Binghe continued lapping at Shen Qingqiu's pert backside until the man let out hiccuping little gasps, the tears gathering at the corner of his eyes. His breath hitched, and his toes curled as he spilled his seed. When the man deemed him ready, taking his time to press a few chaste kisses to Shizun's entrance, he turned him Shizun once more so that he lay flat on his back. Wasn’t that a sight to see himself manhandle his Shizun however he pleased, in a bed. In another context, he threw a limbless man around a dungeon, it did not bring him much satisfaction but it certainly passed the time.

He watched as his double hoisted Shen Qingqiu’s ankles up past his shoulders, sliding his pillar into that hidden entrance in the same motion. The groan he heard himself let out was guttural, his hips grinding in with a filthy slide, until he bottomed out.

He bent over Shen Qingqiu, planting his hands firmly around those ankles. Luo Bingge swallowed around the chord in his mouth. He had…no idea…Shizun was so flexible.

Luo Binghe fucked in once, twice, in shallow motions. He then gnawed at that pale neck, the hands that were wrapped around those slender ankles flexing, his claws growing to points. He pulled back with the full force of his body, and slammed himself in punishingly. It punched a breathy wail from Shen Qingqiu’s mouth. He clearly could not take the pace his husband was setting. His pale cock, bobbed on his stomach, the tip pink and flush, spurting a small amount of essence onto himself, mere moments after Luo Binghe began.

It brought him a sense of second hand pride to see Shen Qingqiu brought to his peak so early, by a version of himself.

The double does not stop pistoning his hips, and Shen Qingqiu does not at ask him to, despite the tears running freely down his face from overstimulation, his breathing long since ragged.

Instead he takes what’s given to him.

That powerful form, snarled, hunched over like a beast guarding its prey, its fangs locked on a white neck, its cock obscene. Slowly, pale hands like reeds, wrapped around his back, and they could not meet, but that tired body shuddering under a pleasurable assault, stroked his back. Softy.

Something in Luo Bingge cracks. Why is Shen Qingqiu allowing this? Allowing himself to be tossed around like a paper doll, allowing himself to be bent in half by a filthy beast, who does not seem as though he is about to stop. His voice a feral snarl trapped behind a red cord. 

“Binghe.” That voice soothed. “Binghe doesn’t have to worry. I’m not going anywhere, sweet boy. Hmm...I’m right -” Huffing as Binghe dug his toes under himself to get more leverage, “I’m, ha, I’m right here. I’m right here. I -, ah, it’s okay.”

The beast on the bed did not stop, the hands on those ankles flexed until the sharp points broke skin, just the slightest bit. The words sparked him to pound in, impossibly harder ending in punishing grinds that must have stirred up sensitive insides in a pleasure that bordered pain. Guttural noises left his throat, “Mine, mine.” He heard his own voice say.

Not once did Shen Qingqiu flinch away from fear. Not from the man above him and not from the demonic essence that Luo Bingge could feel flooding the room; an essence that must have been flooding Shen Qingqiu’s meridians.

When the beast came it was with a feral roar, timed directly after what Luo Bingge counted as Shen Qingqiu’s fifth orgasm. He had to be using his blood to keep Shen Qingqiu’s pillar erect. Normal men with human bodies had limits. He estimated that it had been at least one, maybe two shichen, since they began. He twisted his own arms in their bind, and felt nothing, his muscles stiffed by lack of movement and dislocation.

They should be stopping now, and whatever show his double was putting on could end. His own pants had been sticky with release for a long while, his interest too enraptured by the ethereal being being plowed into, to care much for his own bodily matters. It concerned him little how, or when he bothered to release.

Instead of his expectations being met, he saw the man on the bed adjust their positions once more, leaning back to sit Shen Qingqiu on his cock, the tired form of their Shizun falling over to rest on his broad shoulders, hands, palm-down on his pectorals. Shen Qingqiu’s back faced him, a fall of hair, like a curtain of the finest ink pushed over one shoulder. His chest rising and falling as he took in short gasps of air.

The man was sitting cross legged, Shen Qingqiu’s legs draped over his thighs. The root of Luo Binghe’s body buried deep inside him. As the man moved his hands to spread those cheeks wide, he swallowed at the sight of that delicate pink rosebud, finally revealed to him. It was stretched over the girth of his cock. His manhood embedded deeply in his body, as though it belonged there.

Cum dripped out with every small upturn of the man’s hips. He couldn’t see this view before his double chose to make it visible.

His big hands, their claws retracted, trailed down that back, one hand grasping the nape of that neck possessively, Shen Qingqiu’s head lolling back bonelessly into his grip.

The man’s eyes glowed red, like the hottest of embers, matching his own. His mouth was swollen, a tongue licking his lips, as it again, wore on Shen Qingqiu’s throat. Luo Binghe’s hands were the only things keeping Shen Qingqiu upright.

A filthy upwards thrust of his hips pushed out a trail of cum, slick, and white, Shen Qingqiu’s thighs trembled with the strain of taking more. His fingers grasped Shen Qingqiu’s hair, and pushed that delicate face into the man’s neck, allowing it to rest.

Hands went to slim hips and just like a doll Luo Binghe bounced Shen Qingqiu up and down on his cock. Shizun’s body was limp as weak hiccuping sobs left his mouth, punctuating each thrust with their “Ah, ah, ah’s”.

Push him away, he thinks. Why isn’t he pushing him away? But Shen Qingqiu remained pliant in his grip, allowing Luo Binghe to take, and take, and take. Even though Shen Qingqiu’s entrance was swollen around the massive pillar it twitched enticingly. Sucking him in greedily despite the cum that trailed out with each push. Rocking against his pants, he feels his own pillar ache.

It takes the passing of two more incense sticks for Shen Qingqiu to pass out, and four more for that beast to stop fucking into that giving, generous body, that never so much as raised a hand to him for his hunger.

Luo Binghe fucked into a Shizun dead to the world, his hands worshipful, kissing bruises in supplication, letting out affirmations of beauty like prayers to some distant God. The body below him was a temple, his pillar the offering, he kept plunging into that puffy hole, the rosebud blooming from pale pink to a dark hue. Its petals swollen from the ministrations.

Luo Bingge’s breath was coming out in pants, dampening the cord in his mouth. He knew he’d cum again to this sight, without a single touch, but the fabric against him.

Finally, after what felt like weeks the man took mercy, pulling out with one final shake of his hips, the head of his cock sliding out with an obscene plop, cum trailing down to the Shen Qingqiu’s thighs, knees, and then calves. There were bruises in the shape of handprints spread across both of Shen Qingqiu’s hipbones.

With a practiced motion the man put two fingers into the twitching rosebud, mouthwatering in its slight gape. He scooped out his own seed, uncorked a bottle by the bedside and slathered in a medicinal cream, the dark pink hue of Shen Qingqiu’s passage already turning lighter. The thick fingers gave the rosebud one final stroke, as Luo Binghe picked up Shen Qingqiu in one hand and threw the sheets, and the ruined robes onto the ground, kicking them to one corner. He grabbed fresh blankets from the closet to throw over his husband.The bed, Luo Bingge noticed, had several layers of sheets upon the mattress, meant to…absorb bodily fluids, while keeping the lower layers clean for this exact purpose.

The pillows had been pushed to the far end of the bed for their coupling, forcing Luo Binghe to lean over and snag one with his fingertips. He chose one without embroidery or decoration. A roll shaped, silk covered thing, that he placed in Shen Qingqiu’s hands watching as his Shizun curled around the pillow and snuggled it close. Stroking his cheek one last time, he stood once more, with purpose.

Luo Binghe walked to the guest behind the screen. Quirking one eyebrow at the spoiled trousers sported by his counterpoint, he snorted.

“Did you enjoy watching?” He crooned mockingly, the tone vastly different from its soothing cadence in bed. “Was it pleasurable? To watch what you’ll never have?”

Luo Binghe’s naked form settled into a crouched as he grabbed his double by the binding cord, and leaned forward to whisper into his ear. A savage, gleeful smile filling his face. “He’s mine,” the voice hissed, “and I’m locking you and your ilk out of my fucking dimension. If you so much as look at him with ill intent, I will rip your intestines out and hang you with them. This Lord allowed you a privilege you will never know again, consider it my sympathies for your pathetic existence.”

Luo Bingge swallowed at the unhinged version of himself. His doppelgänger had something to lose, and Luo Bingge was beginning to suspect that he did not, passion drawing the flames of the man’s anger into an inferno. Sniffing in distain as best he could with a gag in his mouth, he glared. Luo Binghe patted his cheek patronizingly, and hoisted him up to throw him on the bed beside Shen Qingqiu.

In shock, Luo Bingge stared at the tired face beside him, fucked out and asleep. A large body bracketed Shen Qingqiu’s other side, their Shizun sandwiched between them. Luo Binghe’s arm removed the pillow, taking Shen Qingqiu off the bed. “I’m off to bathe my husband. We’ll be back.”

Luo Binghe lay there, paralyzed on the bed. What was his counterpart up to…and were his own shifts in mood truly so sudden, and volatile?

The two mirror images laid with Shen Qingqiu between them. Neither of them sleeping.

“He, is not your Shizun.” Luo Binghe begins, knowing how deeply unaware Shen Qingqiu could be after a hard coupling. He does not worry his husband will awaken, too tired from Luo Binghe’s attentions to so much as twitch, even if the Palace were being screamed down by a beast tide.

The face that looked like his own, glared daggers at him. He snorted and reached over to yank out the spit covered gag.

“The original Shen Qingqiu died, this, is not him,” Luo Bingmei continued, gesturing to his husband.

Luo Bingge moved back as best he could, and countered, “He must be Shen Qingqiu. This Lord would notice if he were a malicious spirit. What games are you trying to play, brother?”

Luo Binghe moved to stroke a hand through silky black hair. “When Shen Jiu died, my Shizun’s soul was forced to replace his. He was taken from a different world, where we were but a novel, and he, a dead man. You, in the words of my husband, ‘did not deserve the things Shen Jiu did. Shen Jiu was a complicated man, who repeated his own traumas unto his disciples, who then learned to do to others, as was done unto them. The cycle of abuse can be dangerous Binghe. Take care to make sure, your faults are your own. Do not carry the faults of others needlessly. The weight is too heavy.’ Take from that, what you will.”

Only Luo Bingge knew how well the “he” in that verbatim quotation, referred to him. He refused to admit it…but…in the back of his mind he knew these words to be true. He did not get where he was by lacking intelligence. He simply lacked people to contradict him. There was a difference. He may not have beat his non-existent disciples but he certainly took his revenge to unnecessary extremes.

“He’s not Shen Qingqiu?” He asked, putting away the idea that a world could be a novel for the moment. Though his life was certainly deserving of immortalization in legend.

Luo Binghe shrugged. “Here is the difference between us. You grew up to be a woman mongering pervert, and I was lucky enough to receive a divine gift in the form of Shen Yuan.”

Shen Yuan. Shen Yuan. He mouthed. The name tasted familiar, yet different on his tongue. He knew of body possessions of course, but ones dictated by the fates, less so. He was filled with a jealousy so vast it could drown a man. It was only comparable to the earth-shattering relief of him not being, somehow, a failure, who could not make his Shizun care for him, despite his great worth. Relief washed over him like a tide. The beginning of old wounds, torn open by his foray into a different world, started to heal, unnoticed by Binghe, himself.

“The Abyss?” He snapped out. His mind working through the possible implications, quickly.

“Is a constant in every world. A’Yuan sent me down with as many provisions as he could,” Binghe said.

That made…an ugly form of sense, that the tribulation that carved itself into Luo Binghe’s bones, was unavoidable.

He does not know what to make of this situation. Of his gratefulness, that the man on the bed with his soft voice, and softer hands, was not the one who beat him so, and his anger that he did not receive an…a…Shen Yuan. That what he got, was a Shen Jiu, a petty and vicious creature with a beautiful face, who almost convinced Binghe that there was good in this world, that one did not have to carve out for themselves, until his Shizun trampled on those hope's  

“Why are you telling me this?” If it were him it would be out of vengeance, but here his twin is, claiming it to be mercy.

“If we both exist, there must be a world out there with other Shen Yuan’s who never came to this plane-”

“Make your point?” He snarls out, sore at the reminder.

“Who died young. And scared. After years of suffering,” Binghe stated sharply. 

Bingge’s breath caught in his throat. He did not want to admit his fast attachment to the man in-between them, but he at least knew that he wished him no harm. He was perhaps curious about him at most. “He was ill?” He questioned.

Binghe spoke casually as he responded, “All his life. You could, if you so wished, find a version of Shen Yuan.”

Luo Bingge mocked, “Why not gather a harem of them since you seem to care for them so greatly?”

Binghe snorted “One is enough. Perhaps one day, you’ll understand what that means. Our relationship was not built on his existence alone. What I have with my husband could not be replaced by a man wearing his face.” The dig at Bingge’s attempt was intentional. 

Luo Bingge shot back, “You expect me to leave my life, and what? Find a strange, ill man, and acquire him for my harem?”

Binghe chuckled cruelly, his hands never stopping their path, running through those black strands spread out like a river on the bedsheets. “You have known him for mere moments, tasted his kindness but once, and you want him more than anything you have ever wanted before. I know that look on my own face well enough. It is your choice what you do with the knowledge I have imparted.”

Offhandedly he added, “I’m fairly certain you’ll be leaving the harem behind. No version of A’Yuan would stand to be part of one.”

Luo Bingge held his counterparts gaze, “….Would your precious Shizun support you telling me to abandon all my wives for him?” They do not speak of children that do not exist.

Shang Qinghua wrote that it was incredibly hard for Luo Binghe to procreate, his mixed breeding, and immense power making it difficult to carry on his line. This, originally, was some bullshit line intended to keep the harem filled with hot women, and one man, no babies allowed. Of course, as Luo Binghe was the protagonist, when he wanted a child, eventually one would magically appear despite the odds…but as of now…neither version of Luo Binghe wanted to deal with a babe of their own. One, in fear that the child would follow in his footsteps, the other determined to keep his Shizun to himself for a few more centuries. 

“No.” He answered. Bingge leaned back in shock, and Binghe continued to speak, “Shizun would not. However, my morals have always been flexible. You should know that, shouldn't you?”

Laughing bitterly Bingge changed the topic, in order not to dwell to long on the pain he felt in his chest, “Tell me honestly if you dare, what is the flaw in this arrangement? Is he ugly? He is, he must hideous. Some pimpled, gangly thing with sallow skin, and a good heart?”

Luo Binghe smiled wryly. This other version of him knew nothing of suffering. “He would say that, if asked.”

Bingge looked at him smugly, and Bingmei smiled before he offered, “Why doesn’t this Lord show you what his husband looked like, in his first life?”

Yanking himself into the other’s consciousness without waiting for an answer, he spread out an image of Shen Yuan into the mind-scape. Cursing, Luo Bingge turned to see a strange white cube, and a…a…fairy on a bed, with chords running from their arms, and a clear device on their face.

He was…small. Was his first thought. His second was that not even Liu Mingyan could compare. Black, watery eyes stared at him, as short sweat mussed hair stuck to flushed cheeks, that looked as smooth and glossy as a boiled egg.

He reached a hand out for the illusion, but touched nothing, his hand passing through a frail arm. Stingy. He knew the illusion could be made solid with ease. “This is Shen Yuan?” He asked.

Luo Binghe nodded.

Catching onto the previous words, he wondered, “He would describe himself as-?”

Luo Binghe looked pained, “Sickly, ill, average at best.”

Luo Bingge stared at him in disbelief, and for the first time, when speaking to him, he watched his double show obvious frustration. The man rubbed his face in weariness.

“Look,” Luo Binghe began, his speech more informal as he created a diagram from floating illusory ink. “This is what Shen Yuan knows about the world, and his intelligence in general.” A large circle was created. “And this is the pit unto which all knowledge about his own beauty, or any understanding of when people are attracted to him, goes.” A small swirling hole is drawn into the centre of the larger circle.

“Do you understand?” He asked.

Luo Bingge raised an eyebrow in disbelief, “Is his obliviousness, truly so terrible.?”

Luo Binghe threw his hands up in frustration, as he snapped, “You. You know nothing of my suffering. I spent my disciple-hood thinking of increasingly obvious way to ask if I could pleasure him, and without fail, he misunderstood. Even though our life was a novel in his world, and looking at yours the amount of lewd behaviour was rampant, he could not comprehend, me telling him I wanted to please him with my mouth. Do you understand? I told him I wanted to please him with my mouth. He assumed I wished to learn how to sing.”

Luo Bingge looked at him judgementally. “He was a young man reading yellow books, and you expect me to believe that he was really so innocent? Come now, perhaps he just did not want you?”

Luo Bingge has no delusions about how much sex he’s had in his life. If his life were a novel, eighty percent of it would be him with some woman, fornicating in some exotic locale. For such an innocent looking beauty to have such a habit was…charming, he supposed? Clearly, his other self was deluded, perhaps he was going along with the lie to spare Shen Yuan some face?

Looking at Bingge’s pity filled expression, Bingmei decided that mercy was no longer a viable option. Oh. It was on. Like the fourth battle of Xu Valley. Luo Binghe let out a growl, “He read those novels, for the plot.” Before grabbing this unknowing worm, and throwing him into the memories of Luo Binghe’s disciple-hood.

An unknown amount of time later Luo Bingge emerged to see Luo Binghe’s smug face staring at him, Shen Qingqiu still sleeping between them.

“Shut your mouth.” Bingge snapped, without his double saying a single word. He was wrong. He understood. He admitted defeat. It could not have been made more clear to him, how oblivious Shen Yuan was. This sheltered young miss, who somehow read yellow books, for the sole purpose of complaining, he could understand the concept now. It was, unusual but, real. He should have tried to get Shen Qingqiu to suck his dick while he could.

As if sensing his thoughts Luo Binghe glared at him. “You’re the one telling me to seduce him, why are you so bothered now?” Bingge questioned.

“I don’t like the look on your face.” Binghe answered.

“We have the same face, you imbecile.” Bingge countered.

Binghe sniffed in distain, before changing the subject, “You can’t be a brute, you’ll scare him off.” Listening, Bingge settled his bound body more comfortably on the bed. He would, probably need all the advice he could get. Despite his mild offence that this version of himself would dare call him a brute after what he witnessed.

“Shen Yuan.” Binghe said, “Is very delicate, and his face is very thin, but if you introduce things to him slowly he’ll adjust to them with surprising ease.”

Bingge raised an eyebrow, “Boiling a frog in hot water?” This meant that he would have to slowly up the temperature so as not to spook Shen Yuan until it was inevitably too late, and they were married or in the frog metaphor he ended up with a cooked frog that never realized it needed to escape in the first place.

Binghe nodded, “You have to interject yourself into his life until he becomes used to it. He is a gentle soul; if you are patient, he will most likely love you.”

Most likely, like Luo Bingge couldn’t feel the suspicious amount of compatibility between their beings.

Standing up once more, Luo Binghe moved to haul him behind the screen again, “I can’t have A’Yuan wake up with you in the bed. It would scare him. You will sleep here, and I will explain things to my husband in the morning.”

It was sickening how much joy, this version of him took from saying “my husband”. Did he have to interject it into his speech so often….Would he too, one day become so…obnoxious?

Shen Yuan awakened a bit sore, but otherwise fine. Binghe healed him during the night-time so as to make his marks all surface bruising. They looked a bit much, but they never really hurt, so Shen Yuan didn’t bother thinking on them. If no one saw them, they were fine.

He sat up to find his husband in a black sleeping robe, at the foot of their bed. Kneeling.

“Did husband have a good rest.” Binghe asked, and Shen Yuan knew something was up, from that soft plaintive voice. The last time this occurred, Binghe was begging for forgiveness for drinking wine from his ass. What. On. This. Wretched earth, had his husband done now.

“Binghe.” He called out sharply. It was too early for this bullshit.

“Husband can’t be mad at me.” Binghe, the demon toddler, said.

“What did Binghe do?” He asked, already resigned.

“Husband needs to know that your Binghe, is truly your Binghe, and you should be assured of that fact, because of our previous discussion regarding this matter. So please take care remember it, in this next moment,” Binge said. Why would he need to be reminded that his husband figured out a way for him to…

His husband pulled a tied up, Luo Bingge out from behind the dressing panel. Fuck. He swore and threw a pillow at him, which Luo Binghe moved towards, so that the hastily thrown projectile hit him in the face. Did he think that would make Shen Yuan less angry?

Hunching over he placed his face into his hands, before looking up, and asking in a confused tone, “Why are you like this?”

Eyes going wide as lotus pads, he realized “Was he here last night?”

Binghe looked a bit guilty. His idiot husband was unbelievable…this was why he spent all that time asking him if Shen Yuan would mind if someone watched them have sex…and implying that perhaps a vision of Shen Yuan’s grace would turn Bingge onto a better path? Shen Yuan’s holy light cleansing him, or whatever Binghe was saying, he had tuned out at that point. He recalled that he answered that only a version of Binghe could see him, which in retrospect was too broad, and that he wouldn’t mind if Bingge was happier, but not at Binghe’s expense.

Apparently, his husband had translated that to: let’s hide Luo Bingge and fuck Shen Yuan in front of him?

Binghe looked at him wide-eyed, like a lost lamb, throwing Bingge onto their bed. These actions and faces were very contradictory, thought Shen Yuan. Luo Binghe also looked weirdly proud of himself. This was starting to feel familiar, his husband’s usual ideas on conflict resolution and proving himself were quite frankly, insane.

Binghe scuttled into Shen Qingqiu’s mostly healed lap, and acted cute. Grabbing one of Shen Yuan’s arms, he pleaded, “Husband can’t be mad at me, your Binghe will be very sad. I’m going to lock him out of this world, I just thought that it would help if husband saw him, to know that he can’t hurt you…Additionally, if husband wants him as a pillow, I can -“

“Binghe,” Shen Yuan snapped. “Stop. Just stop. It’s fine. You kidnapped the other version of yourself. Of course you did. Just, go make breakfast or something. Stop talking.”

He was pretty sure that his manipulative shit-beast of a husband knew that if he asked outright that Shen Yuan would have said no, and purposely chose not to out of some really horrifying inferiority issues that they'd probably spend the rest of their marriage working on. Because some part of Binghe always wanted to test the limits of his forgiveness to see when and if Shen Yuan would abandon him, the sweet boy he taught mostly intact but cracked open from the Abyss and Shen Yuan's subsequent deaths, desperate for reassurance that Shen Yuan would not leave him for his mistakes. The other half of him thought that perhaps his Binghe didn't even realize why they'd be having words later. Much later. About boundaries, and warning people about possible voyeurs...without the use of metaphors. 

He wanted to smother himself in his pillows. Who even raised that boy to be this way? He did nothing to foster this kind of behavior, really...His idiot husband was probably proud of himself. 

Meanwhile on the other side of the bed, Luo Bingge suffered from whiplash as he watched this two-faced bastard turn into a simpering child in front of his lover. Where was the great and terrible Demon Lord who grabbed him from his world now? This soft syrupy voice, these over-the-top gestures, this subservience? This talking in third-person! Who was this man?

Grinning, cheekily Luo Bingmei kissed his husband’s forehead before running off to make them food. All would be right in their word by dinnertime.

Shen Yuan collapsed, turning his head to look at Luo Bingge, the rope bondage variation. He was infinitely less terrifying when he was trussed up like a chicken. He couldn’t say that his husband wasn’t wrong about one thing. It was nice to see the man captured, and knowing he could never come back.

“Why are you like this?” He asked Bingge. Full well knowing they were two very different people.

“I know that you are two very different people, but I am asking you to explain your other self. So...why must you be like this?”

Bingge’s face, unlike the smug countenance of before, looked sheepish, something in him Shen Yuan could not place his finger on, calmer, “We fear abandonment, and enjoy proving ourselves to others?” Bingge replied. 

Well, that was not what he was expecting but it was fair. It humanized the man and Shen Yuan, kind of did'nt like that. 

Groaning Shen Yuan rolled over onto Bingge who let out an exhale of surprise. He may as well use the Bingge pillow while it was here. It was probably a terrible idea. He was going to do it anyway.

Snuggling into the broad chest that smelled familiar his eyes grew heavy; the night before still wore on him, “There’s nothing wrong with you, try to be happy,” he muttered sleepily, missing the punched out gasp his words caused, entirely.

Later Luo Binghe unbound the cords that held Luo Bingge in the original world of Proud Immortal Demon Way.

“If you knock at the partition, I will feel it. Only do so under dire circumstances. Best of luck,” Bingmei told his counterpart.

Rolling his sore wrists and stretching imperiously. Luo Bingge Demon Lord extraordinaire thought of his future, spread out before him. Of empty days in the Palace with boundless women of varied circumstances…and a sweet young man in a bed a world away.

He had a few choices to make.

Curled up together Luo Binghe looked adoringly at his husband as Shen Yuan asked him, “Do you think he’ll be happy?”

Luo Bingge’s lips quirked upwards, “I think so….I sent him after you.”

Shen Yuan’s eyes widened as he sat up to pull at Luo Binghe’s cheeks, “Why must husband be like this hmm? Why must you test me so? What, exactly, made you think that was a good idea?”

“He was lonely. You were sad for him.” Binghe slurred out. That did not mean Shen Yuan wanted Bingge to abandon his world to do what? Go fishing for a Shen Yuan of his own, and he already knows that his husband didn’t send him off after Shen Jiu. This brat.

Binghe’s eyes were laughing, and Shen Yuan silently said his prayers for his counterpart. Yuan-mei he thought….good luck. You’re going to need it.