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touchmycoat · 1 year

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part 2 of fake white lotus AU

6k, Rated M

“Afternoons,” Shen Yuan declared, waking up one noon, “are meant for one thing and one thing only.”

Shen Jiu snorted, stepping back out of the doorway he’d only entered halfway.

“I’ll go prepare the carriage.”

Ming Fan perked up, offering Shen Yuan his usual morning affair on a tray.

“Will you go to Madame Meiyin’s? I heard she got her hands on a spiced white tea from the north, super expensive and to Young Master’s taste.”

Liu Qingge sipped at his own tea lifted off of Shen Yuan’s breakfast tray, gaze critical and amused both at once.

“Is ‘expensive’ a flavor profile?”

“Why,” Shen Yuan had to wonder out loud, “do you three always insist on waking me together?”

But it was a beautiful afternoon, sun bright with warmth with no threat of burns. Madame Meiyin was a tea importer with shops about an hour away from the Shen house by carriage. She had private gardens in the back for more exclusive guests and affairs of course, but on the whole Shen Yuan much preferred the front pavilion where he could spectate the hustle and bustle of the main city street. The tea was always delicious, the snacks dainty, but they weren’t the only reason for Shen Yuan’s frequent patronage; he had other indulgences here as well.

Indulgence One: Ming Fan on a shopping spree. Ming Fan was an auntie at heart with his love for gossip, keen memory for deals, and complete willingness to shake his fists and screech at disruptive youngin’s on the street, all despite the fact that he wasn’t even twenty yet. Shen Yuan liked setting him loose because it was like turning on the 8PM cable channel (alright fine, he was old), what with the immediate assail of emphatic dialogue and passionate gesturing. Every time they visited Madame Meiyin’s, Shen Yuan handed Ming Fan a bag of coins and pointed him at the stalls.

Indulgence Two: Shen Jiu doing his work over tea. Now, Mr. Protagonist here was a total poser (affectionate) (truly! Game recognized game, after all) who brought his bottomless pile of un-squared accounts with him to tea, because if Young Master Shen would like to still have money to spend and a house to live in by the end of the year, I suggest allowing me the time to do my work properly. Which was absolute bullshit. The only reason Shen Jiu brought books and brush with him, Shen Yuan knew, was because he liked the way he looked, all dignified at the teashop in neat robes with a straight back, one hand moving occasionally to brush hair out of his face or to help himself to a fragrant cup of tea.

You’re sexy and you want everyone to know it! You’re not fooling anyone, Jiu-dada!!

Shen Yuan really had to figure out a way to gift him a pretty jade hair-thing. It was just like taking a kid cousin to Disneyland, Shen Yuan decided. You had to get him the light-up Mickey Mouse ears or it just didn’t feel right.

Indulgence Three: Liu Qingge and Madame Meiyin.

Now, let it be known that Shen Yuan would never pimp out his employees to get special treatment. That would be unethical.

But was it pimping when all they were doing was having very flirty-terse conversation?

“Ah, back again, handsome? Young Master Shen’s always so generous in bringing us eye-candy.”

“Shut up and bring the tea already.”

“Such crass manners! A false gentleman hardly deserves to wear such proper silks, I must righteously insist you take those robes off. Immediately.”

Liu Qingge didn’t hate it, not really. In fact, Shen Yuan believed they—Liu Qingge and Madame Meiyin—were becoming actual friends, ever since Liu Qingge accepted Madame Meiyin’s invitation to a backroom for a “palm-reading” that one time. Now Shen Yuan was no prude, and he certainly understood that a handsome specimen like Liu Qingge could have as many sexy jaunts as he wanted with his pick of partners.

But right in front of the Protagonist?? Surely that was rude. Also lethal—not for Liu Qingge, but for Madame Meiyin! Wasn’t Liu Qingge just dooming a perfectly nice (if a tad lewd) tea importer and small business owner to death by romantic plot line, all so he could get his dick wet?

So Shen Yuan had intervened that time and only that time, on Shen Jiu’s behalf (that Shen Jiu had barely looked up from a receipt for garlic bulbs wasn’t the point, though c’mon Protagonist! Be a little more diligent about harem maintenance!). Shen Yuan remembered proclaiming something about emergency pond maintenance and dragging Liu Qingge right back out of that backroom.

Certain needs must be satisfied, I understand, he’d pulled Liu Qingge aside later that night to say, trying to be discreet about the whole thing so Shen Thin-Face Jiu didn’t overhear and get embarrassed. But I also believe one ought to be more aware of their contexts, more considerate of people’s feelings that may or may not be relevant. Do you understand what I’m saying, Honor Guard Liu?

Feelings, Liu Qingge had replied, weirdly cryptic. Um, what kind of OOC, sir? I understand. I’ll be more considerate in the future.

…Lovely. I’m certain we’ll all be better off this way.

And that was that. Shen Yuan was glad to see that despite their day-to-day squabbling, Liu Qingge and Shen Jiu were still willing to be considerate of each other. Surely Shen Jiu’s apparent apathy to the whole Madame Meiyin situation was to grant Liu Qingge freedom and happiness. This meant their romantic entanglement had stayed on track, which in turn meant Shen Yuan’s new plan was working.

Oh yeah, Shen Yuan had a new plan. Ever since he instinctively resolved the misunderstanding between Liu Qingge and Shen Jiu that first time (which now that he thought about it, was obviously a push from the omniscient plot gods, because Shen Yuan wasn’t a self-sacrificing idiot), he’d started down a new path: gather Shen Jiu’s harem for him and suck up to the harem members instead. If he couldn’t be Shen Jiu’s friend (he was still working on that, though not especially optimistic about the results), then he’d make himself the harem’s friend.

And not just any friend. Oh no, Shen Yuan knew exactly how “friends” who’d been “secretly pining” for the protagonist’s love interests ended up, thank you. He would be the shipper friend, facilitating and encouraging acts of romantic devotion toward Shen Jiu, miring the protagonist in such an immense tidal waveof affection that Shen Jiu would be altogether too busy to wreak vicious vengeance upon lil ole him. The reasonable followup to that sort of development would then be Shen Jiu getting all the safety and comfort his harem had to offer, discovering self-actualization, then letting Shen Yuan off the hook.

It was perfect! A plan of cold genius. It was fortunate how driven and merciless Shen Yuan could be, willing to manipulate all these people toward his own gain. Liu Qingge was already well within his grip, befriended for the sake of security against Shen Jiu. Shen Yuan was lucky Liu Qingge was not more perceptive.

So there they all were that afternoon, enjoying the tea-slash-shopping-slash-posing-slash-blatant sexual come-ons, when there was a loud, plot-harkening crash.

“Hey, watch it!”

And that was Ming Fan. Shen Yuan was instantly on his feet and starting toward the crescendo of yelling. Liu Qingge flanked him, and so did Shen Jiu after a beat. Together they made their way through the main street, past a stretch of canopied stalls, and finally to a cart of straw and bags of rice. There stood Ming Fan, an aristocratic-looking man, and a slave in chains prone on the floor. There was debris strewn around the slave and straw dusting his hair, and the aristocratic man had a foot on the chains to keep the slave pinned as he spat and gestured above.

In the space of a breath, Shen Yuan’s attention tightened to the aristocrat’s fist. Specifically, he watched the dull gleam of green flying from it.

A jade guanyin pendant, probably fake, tied with a frayed red thread. Shen Yuan recognized the integral plot object instantly (the comic only had about twenty-nine macros of it, which would’ve been impressive had twenty-six of them not been the exact same jpeg file shoved in to claim unearned real estate), which meant this chained slave on the ground was—

“—useless idiot being, don’t know your left foot from your right, causing disturbances everywhere you go, I should do the world a favor and put you down like the animal you are—”

“Young Master,” Ming Fan was saying, a little frantic as he spotted them, “the slave bumped into me and—”

Shen Jiu had gone completely still at Shen Yuan’s side the moment the aristocrat—no, the slave-holder had come within sight.

“—good are apologies from a nothing like you—”

Shen Yuan flew forward. The slave-holder’s wrist bones, he thought, felt horribly crushable in his grip. Were Liu Qingge’s workout lessons working?

And like a contrived and probably too on-the-nose symbolic movie close-up, the string that the guanyin pendant hung from decided to snap at that very moment.

Shen Yuan caught it easily in one open palm, keeping it from falling and shattering on the ground like it was going to.

The slave-holder was staring at him with surprised and indignant eyes.

“Honor Guard Liu,” Shen Yuan spoke evenly, looking right back, and that was all the cue Liu Qingge needed to rip the man out of Shen Yuan’s grip and pin him to the ground with extreme prejudice. Shen Yuan had a vague thought about Shen Jiu watching Liu Qingge do that, but it was gone as quick as it came. All of Shen Yuan’s focus was on the pendant in his hand.

In the original comic, war came to the country. It was inevitable, Shen Yuan remembered thinking, not because of plot reasons but because Shen Jiu didn’t have, at that point, a drawling arrogant yandere warlord-type love interest yet. Y’know, to make sexy threats to his chastity without follow-through and to bring actual challenge to Liu Qingge’s hitherto unquestioned martial supremacy. Also, for some fake politics. The main love interest was the crown prince, after all.

The comic had provided Shen Jiu with all that and more in the form of Luo Binghe, an actual no-joke for real-for real demon. Heavenly Demon, actually, was the genus name, though Luo Binghe would be revealed to be half-human. Having grown up enslaved in human society, Luo Binghe escaped and became a freedom fighter, armed with his righteous sword (shut up) and intimate knowledge of the sheer brutality that people were capable of. On a reconnaissance mission, a disguised Luo Binghe had ran into Shen Jiu, in the middle of an argument at the time with a slave-holder about her appalling treatment of slaves.

It had been intrigue at first sight, with tests and sneering accusations of hypocrisy-turned-true love as time went on. If Shen Yuan were to be honest, Luo Binghe had been his favorite member of the Jiu-da harem. Even with all the shitty writing, Luo Binghe’s pall of ruthless hauteur had always seemed to promise a scintillating core of vulnerability underneath, one that made Shen Yuan actively mad when Shen Jiu inevitably left him behind to go save the Crown Prince (who’d been dying, fine, but still) or when he had that big duel with Liu Qingge that one time, which had ended with Luo Binghe’s sword at Liu Qingge’s throat but also with the revelation that Luo Binghe kind of had…nothing.

You have it so easy! Liu Qingge and his goddamn sword, you can just swear your eternal allegiance and call it a day, but who would believe a half-demon’s loyalty? What are my vows worth compared to the Crown Prince’s, when all the political clout I have bays for human blood? And are they wrong for that, with human hands so stained with demonic suffering? Am I wrong for promising justice to those who follow me? But damn it all that I should meet him. I’m the idiot for falling in love, for complicating what ought to have been an all-too-simple bloodbath. An eye for an eye, but no, instead? I find myself wanting to hand over everything, piece by piece. I find myself praying, pathetic, that each damned pound of flesh can be found worthy by a human, just like before. Tell me, is your love so odious? Does your love cleave as mine does, leaving you with nothing but a blade in your throat and your own hand on the hilt?

…Fine, yes, there was the scandal after that chapter’s publication where somebody accused the author of lifting the monologue wholesale from a foreign-language text somewhere, and plagiarism is a dipshit move but that wasn’t Luo Binghe’s fault! Stop hating on him just because his stupid creator made unethical writing choices! And it was a damn good monologue, skirting melodramatic but certainly befitting of a tragic Demon Lord! Death of the author, let Luo Binghe live!!

—all of which was to say, Shen Yuan had a great fix-it idea. So much of Luo Binghe’s pain in loving Shen Jiu, after all, was in their mistiming. Had they just met a few years earlier, Luo Binghe wouldn’t have had the pressures of a demonic army breathing down his neck, and Shen Jiu wouldn’t have had to choose between giving up Luo Binghe and giving up all of humanity. C’mon, just give them a chance! They deserve a fair shot at getting to know each other without all that bullshit plot.

So Shen Yuan knelt down, palm open with the jade pendant sitting warm inside, and gently touched Luo Binghe’s elbow. Luo Binghe flinched, but when nobody proceeded to drag him up or toss him around, he tentatively lifted his head.

The prettiest pair of big brown eyes flickered up, met Shen Yuan’s, and stuttered down again. Shen Yuan was left staring, frozen, even as Luo Binghe, upon spotting the pendant, snatched it immediately out of Shen Yuan’s hand with both protective panic and a wince, bracing himself for punishment.

Instead, Shen Yuan took in the bruised and scraped skin around the young man’s wrists underneath the mean-looking shackles. He flipped a cool glare over his shoulder and held his palm out again.

“Keys.”

This whole time, the slave-holding aristocrat had been attempting to protest, only to be unceremoniously shoved back into the ground each time by Liu Qingge. Liu Qingge glanced up once before beginning to pat the guy down.

But it wasn’t the slave-holder who responded.

“That slave is Master Wu’s legal property, Young Master Shen. You have no right to just free him.”

It was Shen Jiu, so poised that he felt sharp. At his decree, Luo Binghe’s head sank down again, loose hair covering his face. Shen Yuan slowly turned to his attendant.

“Well how much money do we have on us?” Shen Yuan countered. He tried to pull Luo Binghe up but when the young man refused, he could only stay kneeled. “I’ll buy his freedom.”

Shen Jiu’s knuckles, where his hands were clasped tight over his belt, had gone white.

“Four thousand,” he answered, eyes fixed like claws on Shen Yuan, “was the budget for today’s tea.”

“And I want at least five thousand, even for a slave as worthless as that one,” the slave-holder spat. Liu Qingge pushed his head down again. “Get your hunting dog off me—”

“Five thousand? Done.” Shen Yuan gestured for Shen Jiu’s money pouch, unable to heed the quaking fury in Shen Jiu’s gaze as he caught the heavy bag. Four thousand was pocket change to the likes of the Shen family but Shen Jiu hadn’t announced the cost of an afternoon’s idyllic tea for nothing—he wanted this transaction tainted, to be put in perspective. He wanted everybody on this street to know that to Young Master Shen, the charity of a slave’s life was only slightly more expensive than a fancy snack.

But was he wrong? No. Of course not. The shame was bearable since Shen Yuan could filter it through the knowledge that he wasn’t actually Young Master Shen, and yes, he would bear it because—

He had been taking full advantage of the Shen family fortune. It wasn’t only the money, it was also Ming Fan and the other servants. It was Liu Qingge’s loyalty. It was Shen Jiu’s service.

It was Shen Jiu’s feelings—how awful it must be to watch another slave encounter Young Master Shen’s interference, only for things to go in the radically opposite direction for no apparent reason at all. But Shen Yuan had to see this though; it made no fucking sense to leave Luo Binghe behind now, especially since they all knew full well what would happen to Luo Binghe if he was left to the slave-holder’s mercy.

So Shen Yuan pulled a small golden comb off his hair and stabbed it through the bag. He flung it in front of the slave-holder’s face and watched the coins scatter.

“There. The slave is now mine, so I would suggest minding your hands and mouth from this moment on. I am the Young Master of the House of Shen, the named consort-to-be of the Crown Prince. Master Wu, was it? You do not talk to my people that way and you do not talk of my people that way, have I made myself clear?”

“He doesn’t have the key on him,” Liu Qingge reported as the slave-holder glared. As Shen Yuan strode closer and closer though, his animosity got dimmer and dimmer, until all he could do was lie flat where Liu Qingge had him pinned and stare at the pile of gold and Shen Yuan’s shoes beyond that.

“I said,” Shen Yuan repeated, “have I made myself clear?”

He ignored the little look Liu Qingge shot his way in favor of hearing the slave-holder mumble an agreement.

“Good. Get out of my sight. Honor Guard Liu, get the key to my property from him. You have full discretion to act in my name.”

Liu Qingge’s glance flitted around the marketplace like it was a battlefield, him the general taking stock. Finally, he stood, hauling the slave-holder with him.

“Attendant Shen,” Shen Yuan interrupted before Liu Qingge could say anything, “get the slave home. Clean him up and settle him in.”

“Does Young Master Shen have a preference for where to put him?”

Shen Yuan felt himself shrug.

“You wanted to hire people to replant the west garden, didn’t you? Well here you go. Labor.”

“This servant thanks Young Master for his generosity.” It wasn’t a sneer because Shen Jiu didn’t sneer in public. It was a cool bow, a pronouncement that he knew exactly where he stood—closer to the shackled slave than the man he’d just been sharing tea and a table with. It was distance and an open incapability when he just stood over Luo Binghe with an order to stand. It was not meeting Shen Yuan’s eyes as he led Luo Binghe past, demurring as a proper servant would before a high and mighty master.

“How are you going to get home?” Liu Qingge asked, eyebrow getting more dubious by the moment. Shen Yuan had to get rid of him quickly, before all the guilt and frustration hit.

“Ming Fan will send another carriage for me. I have four thousand coins’ worth of tea to finish.”

At least, Shen Yuan thought morosely as he turned to head back for Madam Meiyin’s, Liu Qingge hadn’t saluted, or bowed his head, or said yes Young Master before leaving.

Shen Yuan wasn’t moping. Moping was for thirteen-year-olds. Shen Yuan just didn’t have much of an appetite.

Ming Fan cleared his throat, a servant with a tray of more food trailing behind him.

“Vegetables, Young Master?”

“That’s it,” Shen Yuan declared, chopsticks clacking on the table as he waved the food away. “Why are you looking at me like that? Being stared at can really affect a guy’s appetite, you know.”

Liu Qingge, sitting across the dining table having also not really eaten, made an unamused expression back.

“Just wondering when you’re going to explain what the hell you’re doing, and what happened this afternoon.”

Shen Yuan exhaled sharply, nudging a plate toward Shen Jiu’s usual seat on instinct before pulling it back away from the empty chair.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re not acting like yourself.”

Hah! Hahah! Liu-dada, winner of the most ironic statement of the century! Nobody was acting like anybody as far as Shen Yuan was concerned because he certainly didn’t want to behave like the original goods, but he’d had to this afternoon except probably that wasn’t the only solution. It had merely been the only one Shen Yuan could think of. Not that Liu Qingge would know anything about this because Liu Qingge didn’t even know what the original goods was like in this timeline so Shen Yuan was actually kind of tricking him, wasn’t he? Young Master Shen had fucked up the love of Liu Qingge’s life with head-twisty trauma and then Shen Yuan had turned around and been nothing but benevolent, as far as Liu Qingge knew, leaving poor Shen Jiu with the truth that nobody would believe.

So wasn’t the fairest move here to lean into it? Be hateful, like he’d done to Luo Binghe, so Shen Jiu would have something to avenge himself against? Shen Yuan didn’t want to die, but now that he was here—now that he’d seen Shen Jiu’s face when he’d been so gentle at first with Luo Binghe—was it really fair that he was putting himself above Shen Jiu’s character arc, Shen Jiu’s catharsis—

“Young Master Shen—”

“Please don’t call me that.”

Somehow, that quiet interruption had the power to knock a tray right out of a servant’s hands. Ming Fan, expression going severe, quickly ushered all the miscellaneous servants out, leaving himself to stand guard outside with a worried look at Shen Yuan. That left Shen Yuan alone with Liu Qingge, who was looking more and more intent as he crossed his arms and sat back.

“You don’t want me to call you Young Master Shen?”

More confused than determined, Shen Yuan shook his head.

“For now or not ever?” Liu Qingge continued, like this was at all a reasonable conversation to be having.

“I think you have to sometimes in public,” was Shen Yuan’s wary answer, to which Liu Qingge just nodded.

“Fine, those are the only exceptions.”

Shen Yuan rubbed at his forehead.

“Look, this is all much gloomier than I’d prefer, let’s just—let’s just forget about all this, alright? I don’t mean to be in such a mood.”

Liu Qingge lifted a brow.

“Are we forgetting the slave too?”

“He’s not a slave,” came Shen Yuan’s automatic response. “He’s—”

Wait a minute. Yeah, that’s it. Way to go, Liu-dage, way to get right at the heart of the matter. Fuck all this noise, to be all honest! What did it matter whether Shen Yuan was acting like himself or Young Master Shen? Shen Jiu was either going to take his revenge or he wasn’t, and the reason he had those possibilities was because he wasn’t a goddamn slave anymore! Yes he might be sad, yes freeing Luo Binghe right in front of him might be fucked up, but it wasn’t like Shen Yuan could regret doing it. And Shen Yuan certainly wasn’t going to keep Luo Binghe a slave in his own house.

All Shen Yuan could do was better. And later, if Shen Jiu wanted to accuse him of anything, he would own up to it. That was all. With perspective, it was a tiny price to pay for all the freedom and power of Young Master Shen.

So Shen Yuan got to his feet, energized all at once.

“Did you get that key?”

Liu Qingge stood too, something brighter in his gaze as he pulled a dark, heavy-looking key from his sleeve.

“He’s a demon you know,” Liu Qingge was saying even as he followed Shen Yuan out of the dining room. “The cuffs suppress his demonic power.”

Shen Yuan made a face and snagged the key from his grip, just in case.

“Are you saying you might not be able to take him, Honor Guard Liu? A cute little kid like that?”

“He’s not any of those things,” Liu Qingge growled, sword clanging in support at his side, “and I can take him just fine.”

“Mhm. It’s okay to be scared, you know.”

“Were you scared? Of Attendant Shen.”

Shen Yuan’s mouth snapped shut on a repartee, eyes wide as he turned. The comic truly didn’t do Liu Qingge justice, he was thinking, if Liu-dage was out here being thissharp, chasing a question like fangs through flesh to bone. Liu Qingge looked both impatient and exasperated, like he was annoyed by Shen Yuan’s surprise, which made Shen Yuan want to give him a sheepish pat on the cheek.

As they made their way to the western wing, Shen Yuan slowly shook his head.

“I’m not scared of Attendant Shen,” he said. It was mostly the truth. What he was scared of was Shen Jiu’s revenge on Young Master Shen and the inexorability of the narrative. “But I…”

Shen Yuan sighed, making up his mind.

“I’ll explain once we get there.”

Shen Jiu, it looked like, had taken an axe to Luo Binghe’s cuffs, breaking the chain in the middle of it while leaving the demon-suppression sigils intact around Luo Binghe’s wrists. Shen Yuan could already see it: the ominous music as Shen Jiu ordered Luo Binghe over the wooden bench, Luo Binghe’s darting eyes snapping to the blade as Shen Jiu reappeared with the axe, Shen Jiu’s glare and Luo Binghe’s pallor in the cutting shots insinuating the axe was going to take off Luo Binghe’s whole hand or even head—

Argh, that must’ve been terrifying! A thousand apologies for this one’s idiotic oversight, O Demon Lord, kindly spare this fool in your reign of terror!

Though, it was a far more effective demonstration of Shen Jiu’s gray morality than anything else the comic had to offer. So there was that, at least.

Also, Shen Jiu had done as asked and settled Luo Binghe in, meaning Luo Binghe, when he answered the door in a frenzy, was washed and clothed with his hair pulled back. Shen Yuan glanced over his shoulder and spotted bedding and a pillow, plus linens for cleaning on the side. Shen Yuan couldn’t help a little exhale of relief at the sight.

“Young Master Shen! Honor Guard Liu!”

Shen Yuan smiled, half-grimacing, at Luo Binghe’s desperate bows and lack of eye contact. He caught Luo Binghe by the elbows once more and pulled back at the now-expected flinch.

“Good evening. May we come in?”

Luo Binghe stiffened at the request but allowed them in anyways. With an apologetic look, Shen Yuan pulled Liu Qingge with him until they stood in the most harmless corner of the bedroom, a.k.a. not in the way of the door or the bed, which seemed like the only thing in the room Luo Binghe had dared to touch so far. Shen Yuan even jabbed at Liu Qingge’s arm—a silent demand to stop looming—before he spoke.

“I never caught your name. What would you like to be called?”

Luo Binghe’s mouth opened and shut a couple of times, his hands subtly worrying at themselves where they were clasped over his stomach.

“This servant will answer to anything Young Master likes,” he tried.

“None of that,” Shen Yuan softly chided. “Surely you have a given name?”

“This servant’s previous master,” Luo Binghe stubbornly replied, “gave him no names.”

Shen Yuan considered him, gaze catching on the collar of Luo Binghe’s robes, how there was no worn red string there. He must be on the lookout for a replacement string. Shen Yuan mentally made a note to bring him one tomorrow, strong and woven from silk.

“Then,” he said, “did the person who gave you the guanyin pendant give you a name?”

Something shattered across Luo Binghe’s young face before he ducked his head, hand clasping at a spot over his chest where he was no doubt storing the pendant. It was a few moments before Luo Binghe answered.

“The woman who raised me,” he said, voice hoarse, “called me Luo Binghe.”

Such a wild name, forces of nature untempered by fussy civility. Shen Yuan smiled.

“Binghe, then. Thank you. That’s a beautiful name to be cherished.”

Both Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge shot him looks at that, disbelieving and incredulous. Shen Yuan ignored them both and stepped forward, holding up the key to Luo Binghe’s cuffs.

“We’ve come to get those restraints off you, Binghe, if you’d like to be free of them.”

Luo Binghe’s reaction was immediate: first a fierce and savage hope, then a paralysis, spurred by Liu Qingge hovering in the corner. Mentally smacking himself in the head, Shen Yuan shooed Liu Qingge to stand even further behind him, which Liu Qingge did with a roll of his eyes.

“Honor Guard Liu went to fetch the key for you,” Shen Yuan explained. “He’s only here in company, not for anything else.”

Slowly, Luo Binghe shook his head.

“No, he should be here for Young Master Shen’s protection. This servant…this servant doesn’t want to hurt Young Master Shen.”

Shen Yuan began to smile, saying, “you won’t—”

“I might,” Luo Binghe interrupted, expression as frank as his tone. He held his wrists up but didn’t seem able to look at them for long, expression dull as he spoke again. “These cuffs have been on for two years. I…This servant can’t guarantee that he can control himself. And if Honor Guard Liu has to step in, that won’t be good for Young Master Shen’s name.”

Chest squeezing hard at the young man before him, who was clearly so desperate to be out of his cuffs but didn’t want to risk the safety or stupid reputation of his goddamn owner, Shen Yuan huffed and took another determined step forward.

“Two years? So you’ve lived long without those cuffs before. Tell me, have you ever lost control then?”

Luo Binghe’s lips were pale as he forced a smile.

“Please. This servant can labor perfectly well with the cuffs on. Attendant Shen had already gotten rid of the chain.”

Shen Yuan took Luo Binghe’s hand before he could think too much about it, guilt and annoyance at himself pulsing through him at Luo Binghe’s words. Luo Binghe immediately shifted back, eyes still averted, but didn’t pull himself out of Shen Yuan’s reach.

“I need no slave,” he muttered, turning Luo Binghe’s hand gently to inspect the cuff. If nothing else, he wanted the damn things off so he could bandage Luo Binghe’s poor wrists. “I would have you free.”

“What happens if you lose control?” Liu Qingge suddenly called from the corner Shen Yuan left him in, but Luo Binghe was answering before Shen Yuan could shoot him a glare.

“I shift into my true form and go feral.”

“What’s your true form?”

Luo Binghe peered once at Shen Yuan before he answered, hand not quite tense but incredibly still in Shen Yuan’s grip.

“A demonic bear, nearing three meters tall.”

“I’ve never heard one of those running rampant,” Shen Yuan insisted. He’d already gotten the key out and was poised to undo one cuff. “So tell me Luo Binghe—how did you keep yourself under control for all those years?”

“Shen Yuan,” Liu Qingge warned.

“No,” Shen Yuan said. “Tell me.”

Finally, finally,Luo Binghe broke from that enslaved sensibility and met Shen Yuan’s eyes head-on, every bit of brown in them screaming but why? But why? But why?? And however much it made his chest ache, all Shen Yuan could do was stare back and insist, trust me. Please, trust me.

There was no why. Luo Binghe would end up getting free of those cuffs anyways and Shen Yuan—Shen Yuan just wanted to see him free, and powerful, and proud. It wasn’t fair, was all! Luo Binghe had gone through more than enough in the time he was enslaved, he didn’t need the last token of love he received from his mother broken at the end of it all, fully falling prey to his demonic side as a result.

Luo Binghe’s free hand clenched once more over the pendant over his chest. He took a deep breath.

“My mother,” he whispered. “She used to breathe with me.”

Shen Yuan inserted the key on an inhale, and exhaled, nice and slow, while Luo Binghe followed his lead.

“Your mother,” Shen Yuan murmured as he heard the lock click, slowly easing the cuff open and off Luo Binghe’s skin, “didn’t want you to hurt. It hurts to lose control, doesn’t it?”

Luo Binghe’s eyes remained fixed on Shen Yuan’s, wide and now brimming with tears, as his mouth opened. Then shut. Shen Yuan took hold of his other hand and squeezed, closing both their hands over the shape of the guanyin pendant. Shen Yuan smiled, finding the keyhole on the second cuff.

“We don’t want you hurt either. Breathe, Binghe.”

They inhaled together, Luo Binghe sounding shaky, and the key went in. Exhale, click, the cuff fell open like an overripe orange and—

A swell of energy pulsed across the room. It blew out all the candles and set all the linens fluttering, but Shen Yuan, standing right at the heart of the burst, stood perfectly untouched. And Luo Binghe was still Luo Binghe as he fell to his knees, hands slipping free of Shen Yuan’s grasp so he could supplicate himself—

Shen Yuan dropped to his knees to and hoisted him right back up, impatient and practically beaming. He gave both of Luo Binghe’s hands an excited squeeze and said, “see, Binghe? I knew you could do it—”

And all of a sudden, Luo Binghe’s face turned bright red, and twin ears popped up at the top of his head.

…Brown ears, round, and furry, twitching this way and that as Luo Binghe stammered, and—

Shen Yuan promptly dropped both his hands to cover his own mouth. Liu Qingge was at his side in an instant with a hand on the back of his robes, yanking him away as Luo Binghe paled, and there was the sound of rattling as the energy pulse from before once again swelled up in the room like a change in cabin pressure, and Liu Qingge’s sword schinked as it left its sheathe—

“Cute.”

Both Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge paused.

…Dammit, this was embarrassing! Hiding his face in one hand and blindly shoving Liu Qingge away with his other, Shen Yuan once again planted himself in front of Luo Binghe. He cleared his throat, unable to look up at Luo Binghe’s face even as he forced himself to explain.

“No, no I’m not scared. The ears are just—they’re so—they startled me. Apologies.”

When silence reigned, Shen Yuan chanced one uncertain look up and his traitorous hand twitched at the sight of the ears again.

Gods, he wanted to scritch them! He wanted to scritch them so badly! Oh this is so stupid stupid stupid, Shen Yuan had never been much of an animal ears guy, so what the fuck was happening to him right now?! Was Luo Binghe genetically engineered to jab right at the center of his cuteness-dopamine-generator button??

“Very cute,” he said again, helplessly. Luo Binghe made a tiny noise, and with a puff, his hands were all of a sudden paws—

#unedited unedited unedited #my writing #BINGHE #inspired obviously by soursoppi's bear!binghe #scum villain

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