The Luo Binghe of that night had truly disgraced himself and destroyed his own reputation.
A dark past! That was one hundred percent Luo Binghe’s dark past.
Later, Shen Qingqiu had at times recalled the incident and used it to tease Luo Binghe. But Luo Binghe wouldn’t even blush; he’d truly grown up, and his face had grown thicker too.
“I was at the age when one is most susceptible to passions,” he would explain. “The person I most admired had held me in his arms, and he both hugged and rubbed himself against me. Shizun, how could you ask me to keep myself under control? Having realized my feelings, I was unable to control my body’s reactions, but I was afraid you’d notice. What could I have done other than make a fool of myself?”
When he recalled Luo Binghe saying those words, along with how his face had revealed some rarely seen hints of genuine shyness, Shen Qingqiu couldn’t help but smile.
He smiled and smiled, but then he couldn’t anymore.
He dared not think about how the Luo Binghe before him was feeling now, as he held Shen Qingqiu’s body in his arms.
✦ ✦ ✦
This dream realm, which Shen Qingqiu couldn’t leave, was both drawn-out and monotonous, exactly how Luo Binghe’s life at Huan Hua Palace had been.
Luo Binghe spent over half the hours of every day huddling inside the frigid Huan Hua Pavilion; he even brought all his documents inside to deal with them there.
Shen Qingqiu rarely got to see Luo Binghe working so seriously. Most of the time, Luo Binghe’s behavior in front of him was a little odd, like a lovesick young girl from head to toe. And when Luo Binghe was handling important demonic affairs, Shen Qingqiu consciously practiced avoidance, making sure not to disturb him. On the occasions he intruded, Luo Binghe immediately lost interest in his work, throwing aside the heaping mountain of documents upon his desk in favor of appealing to Shen Qingqiu as he acted all lovable and obedient. To think that it was only inside this dream realm that he could carefully observe what Luo Binghe was like when he was alone and diligently handling official business.
Shen Qingqiu took to sitting next to Luo Binghe’s desk, where he would marvel as he stared at that quiet, serious side profile. Luo Binghe would slightly frown, reading ten lines at a glance, his brush strokes swift and accurate. The instructions he left were comprehensive yet concise, his ink sparingly used. In short, he worked with a level of gravitas that could scarce be believed.
He also kept up his old habit of cooking every day. Exquisite snacks in the morning, four side dishes with a soup at noon, and a bowl of congee in the evening. Snow-white rice, deep-green scallions, light-yellow shredded ginger. It was the same as the first bowl Luo Binghe had ever made for him. It would be poured inside a snowy porcelain dish, and once the drifting steam faded, Luo Binghe would personally arrange everything inside a lunchbox, which he would deliver to the pavilion.
Even without anyone to appreciate his efforts, he insisted on making everything just like how he had on Qing Jing Peak. It was as if he was waiting for the day Shen Qingqiu would suddenly awaken and open his eyes. That way, the food would be available straightaway and he wouldn’t need to wait.
Sometimes, Luo Binghe would leave for half the day. Most of the time, it would be to address trouble on the demon side of things that no one else could handle, so Luo Binghe would have to personally deal with it himself.
He pretty much never got hurt; then one day, he hit the jackpot and came back bloody.
Luo Binghe walked through the doors at first, but then, as if he’d suddenly thought of something, he backed up a great many steps and removed his bloodstained outer robe. Expelling a little energy from his hand, he set it aflame, burning it away completely. Only after making sure that there was no blood on himself did he slowly approach the sitting platform.
His expression was the same as ever, and he said to the body on the platform, “Shizun, something came up and caused a delay. This disciple ended up returning late, so there won’t be any congee.”
Naturally, no one replied, which highlighted the way in which this situation was just a little…comical.
Shen Qingqiu felt a bit stuck, unable to either laugh or cry, but his heart twinged, a sour feeling within it. He replied, “It’s fine that there isn’t.”
Over these days in the dream, he’d come into the habit of speaking to himself. Separated as they were by time and space, Luo Binghe couldn’t hear him, and Shen Qingqiu couldn’t touch him either, but in the end…he still wished to answer.
Luo Binghe silently stood there for a time, then said, “Never mind.”
He turned around and left. After a while, he returned through the doors with a steaming hot bowl of congee. He placed it down on the desk in passing, then began slowly and methodically removing his clothing. “Liu Qingge rescued Mu Qingfang.”
Shen Qingqiu made a sound of acknowledgment.
Luo Binghe continued talking to himself. “It’s fine that he’s been rescued. At any rate, Mu Qingfang only ever said, ‘There’s no way.’ He’s totally useless.”
“How can you bad-mouth your shishu like that?” said Shen Qingqiu.
Luo Binghe removed his outer robe. Upon his chest was a wound that was slowly healing. Shen Qingqiu could tell at a glance that the gash had been caused by Liu Qingge’s sword glare. Beneath this new wound was an old one, ever stubborn and resistant, unwilling to fade.
Luo Binghe lay down and rolled over, pulling that body into his arms. “In the past, when Bai Zhan Peak came and knocked me around, Shizun would always come up with a method to take revenge for me. When will Shizun do the same and exact revenge on Liu Qingge himself?”
Shen Qingqiu sat upon the sitting platform. “That’s impossible; I can’t defeat him.”
“Shizun.”
“Mm.”
“Shizun, I can’t hold on for much longer.”
Shen Qingqiu didn’t speak.
Luo Binghe smiled. “It’s true. Shizun, if you don’t wake up soon, I…I won’t be able to hold on for much longer.”
But Shen Qingqiu knew that he would hold on.
He would hold that ice-cold, lifeless corpse and hold on for almost two thousand more of these days and nights.
His heart ached with an overwhelming pain, so much so that it exploded within his chest. Shen Qingqiu saw a hand stretching forward, futilely trying to touch that stark-white face of Luo Binghe’s. He watched that hand as it trembled, unable to touch anything, then suddenly realized, with a shock, that it was his own.
“Shizun—Shizun?”
In his daze, Shen Qingqiu felt someone grasping his shoulder as they sat up. He drowsily opened his eyes.
Luo Binghe was inches from his face, nervously staring at him in concern. “Shizun, what’s wrong?”
Shen Qingqiu had yet to recollect himself mentally; he stared at him blankly.
At the sight of this, Luo Binghe became increasingly anxious. The day before, he’d reached a critical point in his cultivation. That night, he’d shut off his consciousness and so had no opportunity to control his dream realm. After falling into a troubled sleep, he’d been shocked awake in the middle of the night. Next to him, Shen Qingqiu’s brow had been tightly knit, his forehead dripping with sweat. Luo Binghe knew something was wrong. He realized he must have failed to restrain his powers and forced his shizun to be trapped in a nightmare.
He was terrified that Shen Qingqiu might have had an exceptionally terrifying dream because of him. “Shizun, what were you dreaming of just now?” he asked persistently. “Are you injured?”
“I…” Shen Qingqiu had stayed within that dream for too long, and his soul had yet to make it all the way back. As he looked at Luo Binghe’s face, it seemed both real and yet not, and his vision wavered, at times blurred and at times clear. He didn’t know what to say.
Luo Binghe became even more frantic, and he raised his voice. “Shizun! Say something!”
Suddenly, inspiration struck Shen Qingqiu. He blinked, then pulled Luo Binghe’s face down and kissed him.
Luo Binghe was speechless.
Though he had no idea what was going on, the sudden kiss had made him intensely happy, and his eyes opened very wide. In the next moment, his hand pressed against the back of Shen Qingqiu’s neck as he took the initiative to deepen the kiss.
Shen Qingqiu didn’t stop there. After some rustling, he’d already unfastened Luo Binghe’s sash and grabbed his hand, moving it inside his own open collar. He led it along the firm lines of his chest, all the way to his enthusiastically pounding heart.
At this point, Luo Binghe seemed a little shocked by the indulgence; he didn’t dare to be too impatient or impulsive, and his movements became cautious.
However, during his moment of slight hesitation, Shen Qingqiu had flipped them over, pressing Luo Binghe beneath him as he roughly tore open his inner robes.
Luo Binghe’s breathing was a little unsteady as he held Shen Qingqiu’s waist, a faint flush dyeing his cheeks. “Shizun…” he stammered, “what’s gotten into you tonight?”
Shen Qingqiu leaned down and said into his ear, “Tonight, I feel like…I like you a great deal.”
In an instant, Luo Binghe’s entire body went rigid from head to toe.
He abruptly sat up and trapped Shen Qingqiu within his arms. Lightly drawing a breath, he said, “Shizun, I…I might not be able to be gentle.”
At the sound of the forced calm in his voice, Shen Qingqiu laughed. “You speak as if it doesn’t hurt when you are gentle.” Before Luo Binghe’s face had the chance to change, Shen Qingqiu was reaching out with both hands. “I’ll endure it gladly.”