Thread by @bingjiuwus

#bingjiu

Luo Binghe had been captivated by his Shizun's scent since he'd been a boy.

https://twitter.com/oversized_frog/status/1630021077161082880

From the first day he'd met the jade immortal Shen Qingqiu carried the scent of jasmine flowers, delicate and light and subtle, as if he had _just_ been tending to the plant

and a petal latched onto him here and there, in the folds of his silken robes and in between strands of black hair.

Binghe had thought the man's scent natural, a sign of his innate elegance - until, of course, Ning Yingying had told him one day in the hushed tone of revealing a great secret,

that her favourite chore on Qing Jing Peak (and the one she was assigned to the most) was to pluck the petals from the various jasmine plants Shizun grew in and around his home and dry them, then put them inside various embroidered sachets for him to use as he willed.

Shizun would carry said sachets in his sleeves and bear the scent that way, you see...

_Of course it's not natural, you idiot boy,_ Meng Mo had snarked at the back of his mind. _Did you think that cruel master of yours a flower just because he looks and smells just like one?_

_Shut up!_ Binghe thought, insulted and injured, then, and blocked out the old demon from his mindscape for the rest of the week.

Forbidding Shizun from the small luxuries he was used to as the Qing Jing Peak Lord had been one of Binghe's chief pleasures when he'd condemned the man to the Water Prison and a long, excruciating death in darkness and the endless drip of water over stone.

What right had he to a hot scented bath anymore, to fine silken robes over his jade-white skin and a huanghuali comb for his curtain of black hair and red powder for the cinnabar mole he painted onto his brow?

What right had he anymore to smell like jasmine flowers and continue to make Binghe's mouth water?

(Gods, even at the trial with all the world standing against him, he'd looked so beautiful, and cold, and proud...)

He didn't.

Let him rot from now on, his face sag and age and his body turn decrepit, let him know what it felt like to be filthy and never feel clean again, so matter how much he scrubbed himself to the bone, no matter how much he tried...

Let him know what Binghe had felt like in the Abyss for five long years, and ever since.

Of course, things happened here and there. And to put it shortly, when you fall in love with someone, a small part of you never truly falls out.

*

The bloody handprint on the door was the first thing Binghe saw when he returned from the Northern Desert to his own palace, having sliced a portal directly from Mobei-jun's welcoming hall to the corridor outside his own set of rooms in the Underground Palace.

Back when Binghe had once entertained - and well, to put it crudely, _enjoyed_ having a harem of wives around, such gruesome scenes weren't an uncommon sight. His wives adored him and despised each other. Poisonings, sabotage and attempted murder occurred frequently.

Part of him - the small, scruffy-haired child who had sharp knees and elbows to his name and nothing else - had even enjoyed the violence they inflicted on each other because it meant they loved him just that much, that they would kill to have him all to themselves.

Even if he'd never felt the same way towards _them_.

Even if the only person he would have moved heaven and earth in this life for had turned Binghe's ire and hatred towards himself, instead...

Even if...

That was then. The harem had been dissolved years ago, and Binghe bid farewell to his former wives with no shortage of wistful regret and oddly enough, relief.

He'd given everyone more than enough lucre for a comfortable post-divorce life, and even allowed a few of them to attempt to poison him, just to get it all out of their system. Fun!

(Yingying had nearly torn his head off for that one, when she found him purging an ex-wife inflicted poison via some old-fashioned bloodletting in the courtyard on his own. Just because his former shijie was no longer his wife, she still cared about him a little. Funny, that.)

The Underground Palace and Binghe's personal life in general had become a lot more peaceful then. Xin Mo too, had been tamed in its older age, much like Binghe himself. They'd both gotten what they wanted, and become well-fed and gluttonous as a result.

Except for this.

*

Binghe followed the trail of bloody footprints from the doorway to inside his bedchamber, then past it to the private hot spring he enjoyed with one and one person alone.

As he deadened the sound of his footsteps on the way in - observing with quick eyes the smashed furniture around him, the ripped wall scrolls and ruined vases and flowerpots on the floor, his heart hammered heavy in his chest.

How the _hell_ had there been a fight in his own fucking quarters and no one came to let him know? Not all of his subjects could teleport like he could, yes, but they weren't _idiots_, were they?

Binghe had caked the entire Underground Palace with talismans and protective arrays a dozen times over, so...

The stench of blood, _fresh_ blood grew stronger as he approached the hot springs, steam rising to greet him.

And there, slumped against a rocky corner and trying futilely to bandage the seeping wound on his waist, was his Shizun.

_His_ Shen Qingqiu.

*

"Why didn't you call for me?"

The first thing Binghe had done - once he'd gotten over his heart attack - was run towards Shizun, who had gone white at the sight of him - as if he wasn't losing enough blood already! - and tried pathetically to push Binghe away.

Undeterred, he'd scooped the man up in his arms and brought him back to their bedchamber, Shizun silent and biting his lip as he clutched onto Binghe's lapels all the while.

Half a shichen later, his wound had been cleaned and sanitised and fully bandaged, since yes, despite his heavenly demon blood Binghe _did_ know how to take care of booboos the old-fashioned way.

Shizun gave him a sour look. "And why should I have done _that_?"

Binghe huffed in disbelief. "Because this is our _home_, and someone dared attack you while I was gone? Because I made a vow to protect you, and I'm your _husband_?"

"Must you always bring that up," Shizun muttered, looking almost offended. He cast a thin figure on their bed, wearing nothing but a pair of clean white robes that did nothing to hide his near-gaunt frame. So he hadn't been eating either...

"Unfortunately, yes," Binghe snapped. "Deal with it."

Shizun gnawed on his lip, as if waging whether to start a fight or not... then he sighed, and leaned his head on Binghe's shoulder, choosing to let it go.

"Mobei-jun and that rat man have been bellyaching about having a child for years," Shizun murmured in a low voice. "And naturally, you should have been there to give their babe your blessing and favour. Anything less would have given offense."

Binghe sighed. Shizun should have come too as his sole remaining consort, but he'd felt under the weather, and a newborn infant, even one with demonic heritage, was delicate enough to take all and every precaution with.

(Especially if it was Mobei-jun's one and only heir!)

"Nevertheless," he said, putting an arm around Shizun's shoulder and intertwining their fingers together. "They would have understood if I'd had to leave a little early. Who was the bastard, anyway?"

"Dead," Shizun said with no small amount of satisfaction. "And not worth your time to begin with."

"They almost killed my Empress, I think that makes it worth my time," Binghe said sharply.

"As if," Shizun scoffed.

"Oh? So that wasn't your blood everywhere, then?"

Shizun almost jerked out of his arms at that, but Binghe held onto him nonetheless, refusing to let go.

"Shen Qingqiu," Binghe said. "You are not allowed to get hurt like that and give me the scare of my life."

"And who the hell gave you the right to order that?" Shizun said incredulously, but eventually settled down again.

"I would have fixed myself up," he muttered, "if you hadn't barged in and made a show of being a hero. _Needlessly._"

Binghe rolled his eyes. Everything he did for Shizun's sake seemed "needless" to the man. As if tending to the one you loved was such a herculean act!

"And you do that often, when I'm not around?" he asked.

"Idiot," Shizun said. "Just how do you think the palace stays so calm nowadays? Surely you don't think it's because everyone has accepted our union and decided to leave us both alone, have you? You broke a lot of people's hearts back then, you know."

And he'd do it all over again, if it meant being with the man he loved and no one else. "Don't ask me to regret doing that," Binghe said. _Not for you._

"If you did, I would kill you myself," Shizun said bluntly. He reached up with his free hand to Binghe's cheek before pinching it cruelly.

"Hey!"

"Such a dumb-looking face you have," Shizun murmured. "Big black eyes like a lamb even now, jade-white cheeks you just want to abuse and turn red, and that fat lower lip that always juts out when you're thinking about throwing a tantrum, even as an adult.

"Just how did I fall in love with a face like that?"

_Oh._ Binghe's heart fluttered, went tight with longing.

"You must have seen the real me," he said as truthfully as he could manage. Honest to god, he didn't know either...

"Yes, after all this time," Shizun said.

Binghe heard the regret in his tone, clear as day. How long had it been since they'd reconciled? A few years, maybe, a drop of time in an immortal's life. Before then, he'd been certain he would let Shizun rot in the Water Prison for all eternity.

And before then, he'd been a boy on Qing Jing Peak, infatuated with his Shizun's scent and nothing more.

*

Shizun smelled of cotton bandages and rubbing alcohol and Binghe's own sleeping robe, which he'd wrapped himself up in as they got ready for bed, and left Binghe with only a pair of loose black pants to sleep in.

This was all he'd ever wanted, he thought as he lay down in bed, careful not to jostle Shizun's side in the process... and careful enough not to fall to temptation, when the man's hand drifted to his bare collarbone and started teasing lines across it.

"And what do you think you're doing?" Binghe huffed. And here he was trying to be good for once...!

"Little beast," Shizun said softly. "I can take care of myself. I can take care of you, too."

Binghe's heart palpated. "That doesn't mean I want to see you get hurt. Ever."

"As if that makes you so special," Shizun sniffed, but stilled his hand. He added in a lower tone, "I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Mm." Binghe swallowed. "But next time..."

"Yes, yes, next time I'll cry out for my strong husband to save me and twiddle my thumbs otherwise. How fun!"

"Promise me," Binghe said. "Please."

"Worrywart," Shizun said, but added, "Yes, I promise."

*

In the morning Shizun smelled of jasmine again. Binghe hadn't realised how much he missed the scent until it was in the air again, until he was with his husband again.

(And well, also in his pocket. Somehow, he hadn't realised Shizun slipped an embroidered sachet in there until it was late afternoon. No wonder he'd been in a good mood all day!)

END