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1.
Shang Qinghua hadn’t been at the Northern Palace in over a fortnight and Mobei-Jun was feeling oddly uncomfortable over his absence.
He disliked the feeling - it made his skin feel like it was too tight and made his limbs feel like they couldn’t stay still. It also made him more prone to causing what Shang Qinghua would call diplomatic issues. Still, he had managed to keep blood off of the throne room’s floor for the past two weeks and he was bored so why not just see how “audit season” was going? Mobei-Jun figured he would just pop over to An Ding Peak to check in on Shang Qinghua - just to make sure he was there, obviously.
Court having been released for the day, Mobei-Jun stalked over to the shadows in the far end of the throne room and, in a blink, reemerged in a dusk shadowed corner of the Leisure House on An Ding Peak. Eyes scanning the room, he frowned.
Papers were piled on the desk haphazardly, the smell of dust and ink swirling through the room. The windows were cracked and the curtains open to let in the days waning autumnal sunlight. Several half drunk cups of tea were strewn around the room. But, no matter how many times Mobei-Jun’s eyes passed around the interior of the Leisure House, there was no sign of Shang Qinghua.
Sighing to himself, he stepped fully out of the shadows and eyed the bed critically. Sharpening his hearing, Mobei-Jun picked up on the sounds of light chatter and bird song. It would be fine. Shang Qinghua had clearly been here earlier if the semi-fresh, half eaten bun on the desk was any indication. He could just…Wait here for him to return. Just so Mobei-Jun could get a look at him.
After toeing off his boots, Mobei-Jun pulled the rumpled covers back and slid into the bed. Burying his face into the oddly soft pillow Shang Qinghua favored, he took a deep breath. The familiar, comforting odors of smoke and paper filled his senses as he dozed off.
–
Mobei-Jun woke up with a start to the sound of a light, snorting laugh. Face still smashed into Shang Qinghua’s pillow, Mobei-Jun turned his head and squinted towards the sound in the dim lantern lit room.
Shang Qinghua was sitting at his desk, eyes warm and an easy smile on his face. Being greeted with such a sight when he woke up reminded Mobei-Jun of staring at fresh snowfall on the Ice Plains at midday - bright, blinding, intense.
Mobei-Jun brushed the feeling off. His eyes were probably just readjusting to seeing Shang Qinghua after his absence. Nothing unusual - Mobei-Jun had noticed a similar phenomena the last time Shang Qinghua had been absent from the Northern Palace for an extended period of time due to some kind of Sect business.
“Did you have a nice nap, my King? Is my bed to your liking?” Shang Qinghua’s teasing voice drifted over from across the room. He was still smiling at Mobei-Jun, eyes dancing and lips tipped up as though they were sharing a private joke.
It was odd - the Leisure House was rarely too warm for Mobei-Jun these days. After Mobei-Jun had tracked Shang Qinghua down and made him that first bowl of noodles, Shang Qinghua had outfitted his personal residence with temperature controlling talismans. He had waved them excitedly in Mobei-Jun’s face, mouth running faster than a gale, as he explained that they would adjust to an individual’s qi signature to ensure that the temperature they felt while on the premises was the perfect one.
Right now though, with Shang Qinghua smiling softly and the echoes of his light laugh still in Mobei-Jun’s ears, the Leisure House seemed to be several dozen degrees warmer than it had been in months. It was so warm, in fact, that Mobei-Jun felt the need to bury his face back into the cool softness of Shang Qinghua’s pillow as he grumbled, “I was just resting my eyes.”
A chair scraped across the floor, the sound followed by quiet footsteps. “Mmmm…” Shang Qinghua’s voice was closer this time. “Well, did you have a nice rest of your eyes, my King?”
The words felt like the sun beating down on the back of Mobei-Jun’s exposed neck. Instead of dignifying that question with a response, Mobei-Jun turned his head to the side so he could glare up at Shang Qinghua. This did nothing to help the heat suffusing Mobei-Jun’s face, as Shang Qinghua was bent over, eyes bright in the low light of the room as they peered at Mobei-Jun from less than a handsbreadth away.
Swallowing heavily, Mobei-Jun rolled away from Shang Qinghua, grumbling petulantly, “The temperature talismans aren’t working again. Perhaps Qinghua should focus on fixing them so this King can get some proper rest.”
Behind him, Shang Qinghua let out another short, bright laugh. One of his warm hands clapped Mobei-Jun on the shoulder and then withdrew just as quickly. “Of course, my King. Let me get right on that for you while you just relax.”
Even after Shang Qinghua adjusted the talismans and opened another window to let the autumn breeze in, the heat coursing through Mobei-Jun’s body didn’t fade until he fell back asleep, the sounds of Shang Qinghua’s quiet humming and the scratch of his pen lulling him down into quiet darkness.
2.
Shang Qinghua had been talking about…about Something. Accounts? Trade routes? Supply…
“Supply lines, my King! I know the Northern Desert gets a lot of snow but this is just…This is ridiculous! It’s the most I’ve ever seen in the decades I’ve been working for you and well…The supply lines are suffering for it.” He peered down at the scroll clutched in his gloved hand and squinted at it. They were strolling through the Evergreen Gardens on a rare day when the torrential snowfall had let up.
A quarter shichen ago, Shang Qinghua had burst into Mobei-Jun’s quarters, place, wild-eyed, and rumpled, rambling, “I need to see the sun, my King. Please. I can’t return to An Ding until this supply chain mess is figured out and I haven’t been outside in a week and I’m…!”
Mobei-Jun hadn’t waited for him to finish the thought before he was bundling Shang Qinghua up in a fur robe had on hand for just that task. Specifically the robe Mobei-Jun had on hand that he had specially commissioned for Shang Qinghua after he caught Shang Qinghua bemoaning the particularly harsh winter cold and commenting that he would return to An Ding just so he could “feel his toes again.”
Shang Qinghua stared at him, expression dazed, as Mobei-Jun belted the heavy, liked garment around his waist. “There,” Mobei-Jun grumbled.
“There?” Shang Qinghua held out a sleeve and scrutinized the Ember Fox fur at the cuffs. He paused and glanced back up at Mobei-Jun, eyes narrowing. “Where did this come from my King?”
Mobei-Jun avoided his gaze and turned around, collecting the new pair of matching “mittens” - at least that’s what the Palace Seamstress had called them - he had made from the robe’s leftover materials. He shoved those into Shang Qinghua’s hands as well and then collected him under one arm.
Moments later, they stepped through the shadows and into a garden shed at the far end of the Evergreen Gardens path.
And now, Mobei-Jun was, once again, distracted by the movements of Shang Qinghua’s mouth and the expression flitting across his face as he continued to talk about…
“MY KING!”
“Hrng?”
“So what do you think?”
Clearing his throat, Mobei-Jun looked down at Shang Qinghua and, instead of answering the question he hadn’t actually heard in the first place, tilted his head to the side. “What does Qinghua think? He is, after all, my trusted Head Advisor.”
Shang Qinghua’s eyes widened. He buried his chin into the thick mass of fur at the collar of the robe, likely to shield himself from the wind that had just picked up. They lapsed into silence for a few moments, still walking through the Gardens. It began to snow lightly, the flakes falling slowly and adding an ethereal quality to the already gray and white landscape.
“Well, I think…” Mobei-Jun paused and looked down at Shang Qinghua. Shang Qinghua’s mouth was moving but Mobei-Jun failed to hear the words, too distracted by the sight of delicate snowflakes catching on his long lashes.
“Beautiful…” he murmured.
Shang Qinghua cocked his head to the side and eyed him critically. “You really think so?”
Mobei-Jun nodded and leaned forward, hand sneaking its way towards Shang Qinghua’s waist.
With a short laugh, a shining smile burst across Shang Qinghua’s face, crinkling his eyes pulling his round cheeks up. Mobei-Jun froze, hand partially extended. He rerouted his hand to tug at the already open collars of his own robes. It was cold outside but Mobei-Jun was suddenly feeling unseasonably warm. Particularly in the face region.
Shang Qinghua’s smile settled into something less bright and more gentle. The unfortunate heat in Mobei-Jun’s face spread towards his neck. Shang Qinghua’s eyes flicked from his face to his exposed chest. “Hm, well.” He rubbed a be-mittened hand on his chin. “I don’t know if I would call developing large-scale melting talismans a ‘beautiful’ solution so much as it is practical but I’ll take it.” The high noon sun smile returned. “Thank you, my King! You’re always so helpful with these kinds of problems!”
Shang Qinghua reached out and patted Mobei-Jun on the arm companionably. It had to have been a figment of his imagination but Mobei-Jun could swear he felt heat bleeding into his skin through the thick, leather and fur lined mitten.
“Anyway, so now that we have a solution for the supply line issues, I guess we should worry about how we’re going to find talisman paper that large. My King do you…” Shang Qinghua was already walking away, attention focused on the scroll he had reopened.
Shaking himself, Mobei-Jun turned to follow. They would have to go inside soon so Shang Qinghua didn’t get cold - the snow had started to come down harder while Mobei-Jun had been distracted by the warmth blooming across his skin.
3.
When Mobei-Jun was small, his uncle told him a story about an ice demon who melted. The story went like this.
The demon was travelling through the Human Realm. He was all powerful - commanding snow and ice with ease, taking down his enemies with cold spears and frozen swords. One day, he was captured by human cultivators and locked away. The humans knew they couldn’t overpower the demon with their cultivation alone. They also knew this particular demon was a member of an ancient clan of ice demons.
So what did these humans do?
They trussed the demon up in Immortal Binding Cables and tossed him into the Searing Desert Wastes. Mobei-Jun’s uncle had emphasized that this Desert was not like the Northern Desert. Instead of a paradise of ice and snow, it was a hellscape of sun, sand, and heat.
The demon succumbed to the elements and, when the humans came to collect his corpse, all that was left were empty robes and a smattering of plants growing where his body would have been.
Two things about that story stuck with Mobei-Jun.
The first was how closely it mirrored the awful trick his uncle pulled on him shortly after he told him the story. Mobei-Jun never did find out if the humans that had chased him down and captured him when he was a child were going to throw him into the Searing Desert Wastes, but at the time he had been convinced they would.
The second thing that stayed with Mobei-Jun was that he should be wary of the heat.
Or at least, it had stayed with him until he came to the conclusion that he needed to be around Shang Qinghua as much as possible (to be sure he could call on him if he ever needed his Head Advisor, obviously) - even if that meant suffering through the humid summers on An Ding Peak.
This resulted in three discoveries.
One - apparently Shang Qinghua's temperature talismans had a limit to what they could control. “Fires of a volcano hot” was, apparently, their upper limit for being able to keep the Leisure House a decent temperature for anyone inhabiting it.
Two - Mobei-Jun found out that his powers were just fine in the heat - at least, if there was enough moisture in the air. Certainly he wasn’t comfortable, but he found he could just form a thin layer of frost over his skin and stay cool enough until it melted.
And three - Although Mobei-Jun was now quite certain that he was not going to melt because of the heat, he wasn’t so sure that he would make it back to the Northern Palace in a non-puddle form for other external reasons. Specifically, a single external reason.
That single external reason manifested itself when the door to the Leisure House slammed open and Shang Qinghua oozed in, robes loose at the collar and body covered in sweat. Looking up in alarm from the bed where he had been lounging, Mobei-Jun froze and then swallowed heavily as Shang Qinghua tore at his waist sash, grumbling all the while. The outer robes were first, dropped on the floor in a heap. The second set of robes were next, tossed into the corner. Once Shang Qinghua was down to his thin set of inner robes, Mobei-Jun finally cleared his throat.
It wasn’t that he was opposed to human nudity! He just had some inkling that humans were generally opposed to others seeing them in a state of undress. Or at least they were opposed to it when the individual observing them in said state didn’t receive their permission to see them that way because they walked out of the shadows in the corner of their room and caught them servicing themself in a compromising position in the early hours of the morning in their bed.
Shang Qinghua’s eyes flicked over to the bed and then back down to the tie he had been picking at. With a start, he looked back up at Mobei-Jun, hands still on the tie. “Ahahah!” Shang Qinghua raised a single hand in greeting. “Hello my King! I didn’t expect you to be here.” He looked back down at his fingers, mumbling. “Although I should have known when I walked in since it’s not hotter than the surface f the sun in here like it was when I left.” As the tie came loose, Mobei-Jun thought he heard a bit of the strange dialect that Shang Qinghua and Peak Lord Shen sometimes spoke in - something that sounded like “air conditioner” and “freezer box.”
Mobei-Jun sat motionless on the bed as the ties on Shang Qinghua’s inner robe finally yielded to his fingers. With a quiet sigh, Shang Qinghua let the robe fall to the ground. His hands went to his waistband and began to tug at the ties there, the strings yielding more quickly than the ones on his robe had.
Jumping to his feet, Mobei-Jun stalked across the room in several long strides. Shang Qinghua’s hands had stopped moving again and he was looking up at Mobei-Jun. Without thinking, Mobei-Jun clapped his hands onto Shang Qinghua’s exposed (hot, sweaty, surprisingly muscular??) shoulders. “Qinghua.” He willed his body to stop trying to burn to ash as Shang Qinghua’s eyes widened while his tongue darted out to wet his slightly parted lips.
“My King…?”
“Allow me.”
Shang Qinghua’s eyes widened further. Mobei-Jun’s hands were still on his bare shoulders. Could humans transfer their heat to others to cool off? Was that a thing? That had to be why Mobei-Jun’s face was feeling so warm as there was no other logical explanation. After a few seconds of silence, a coy smile spread across Shang Qinghua’s lips.
“Oh, my King,” Shang Qinghua purred, eyes going half lidded. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”
This reaction did nothing for Mobei-Jun’s body temperature. As a pre-caution, he focused on the moisture that had collected on his clothes when his previous layer of frost had melted, refreezing it in a bid to cool himself off.
It melted almost immediately.
Shang Qinghua was still looking at him from under his eyelashes. Mobei-Jun had no idea why Shang Qinghua had been waiting for this since Mobei-Jun was generally not in the vicinity when it was this hot but. Well.
With a squeeze of Shang Qinghua’s shoulders, Mobei-Jun focused his demonic qi and pulled at the hot, muggy air around them. Carefully, he constructed a lattice work of frost across the back of Shang Qinghua’s neck, extending it down his shoulders and back, and then circling it around his front.
Shang Qinghua’s head jerked up, a shocked sigh escaping from his lips. Mobei-Jun avoided looking at his face so he wouldn’t lose his concentration, instead focusing on his left hand on Shang Qinghua’s shoulder.
As the frost travelled up Shang Qinghua’s torso, goosebumps burst across Shang Qinghua’s skin, racing down his arms and across his chest. Mobei-Jun grit his teeth as they pressed against the flats of his palms. Another quiet sound broke out of Shang Qinghua’s mouth as the frost reached his chest.
Almost done. Then Shang QInghua could put his clothes back on and Mobei-Jun could cool himself back down because at the moment, he felt like he was going to burst into flames.
A great, wracking shudder went through Shang Qinghua’s body and, had it not been for Mobei-Jun’s hands clasped on his shoulders, he would have pitched forward as a moan fell from his lips. Hands tightening just enough that his nails dug into Shang Qinghua’s skin - which pulled another sound of discomfort out of Shang Qinghua - Mobei-Jun sped up his work. When Shang Qinghua’s upper body was covered in a cool, twinkling layer of frost, Mobei-Jun made sure he wasn’t going to pitch forward and let go, quickly taking a step back and averting his eyes.
“Done.” Mobei-Jun nodded to himself. Shang QInghua stared at him, brows furrowed in confusion.
“Done?”
“Yes. Now Qinghua won’t be so hot.” And he can put his clothes back on. Mobei-Jun didn’t add that last part as this was, after all, Shang QInghua’s house and he could do as he pleased. A thought occurred to him. “This one could also treat your robes in this fashion.”
A single eyebrow rose on Shang Qinghua’s face. “Treat my robes?” Nodding, Mobei-Jun picked up the previously discarded inner robe and channeled some of his energy into the sweat soaked garment. After it was frozen nearly solid, he handed it over to Shang Qinghua, who accepted it cautiously.
“I…see.” He walked stiffly over to his desk and deposited the frozen garment next to it. “Thank you…?”
The heat running through Mobei-Jun’s veins was back as he tracked the shift of Shang Qinghua’s back muscles and the way his low slung trousers were slipping even lower over the round globes of his-
“My King?”
“HUH?” Mobei-Jun blinked at him owlishly. Clearing his throat, he said, “Yes?”
“Aren’t you hot, too? How long have you been here, anyway?”
“Not long,” Mobei-Jun lied. He had been there for two shichens, waiting for Shang Qinghua to return.
Shang QInghua stared at him silently for several seconds before shaking his head wryly. “Right. Ok. Well then.” He placed his hands on his hips and pursed his lips. “You can obviously use your powers so…” Shang Qinghua shot him a small smile. Mobei-Jun forced frost to bloom under his thin tunic. “My King, how do you feel about seeing if we can use your powers to fix the talismans in here so they don’t fail when it’s too warm? I have some ideas I’ve been tinkering with but I need some assistance from an ice demon - and wouldn’t you know it! I have one right here!” He paused and then shuffled from one foot to another. “That is, if you’re willing…”
Mobei-Jun grunted his assent as he strolled back over to Shang Qinghua’s bed and flopped down on it, shutting his eyes. “This King is willing to assist.”
“Oh!” Shang Qinghua sounded surprised. Mobei-Jun frowned but wiped it off his face as footsteps approached. “Ok then. Can you just channel some of your demonic energy into this talisman and then I’m going to need you to…”
Mobei-Jun happily complied with Shang QInghua’s rapid fire instructions, ears and face still feeling quite warm as he simultaneously cooked his body so it could return to its normal temperature.
4.
Mobei-Jun had been in his chambers, disrobing for the evening, thinking about a certain Head Advisor when the scent of blood and poison wafted into his nostrils. Pausing, he stood still, attuning his senses.
Down the hall. To the right. Behind a heavy…
Shit.
Without cinching his robe shut, Mobei-Jun stepped into the shadows in his room and then back out of them in the corner of Shang Qinghua’s personal office. Across the room, he spotted two bodies on the floor. Heart hammering in his chest, he took a step forward.
“Don’t move,” a harsh voice hissed in his ear.
He could smell blood on the blade. He could also smell the sweat on Shang Qinghua’s skin. Swallowing shallowly, he muttered. “It’s me.”
The sharp blade stayed pressed to his throat for a breath and then fell to the floor out of limp fingers. “Ahaha…My King…?”
Mobei-Jun had just enough time to spin around and catch Shang Qinghua in his arms before his blood soaked body crashed to the floor. Carefully, he lowered Shang Qinghua down onto the smooth, cool stone, hands already roving over his limbs, checking for injuries.
The blood splashed across his face was…Not his.
The blood soaking his robes. Huh. Also not his.
His hands paused when they read Shang Qinghua’s thigh, fingers gently running over a tear in his pants. Hissing out a breath, Shang Qinghua tried to shift away. Mobei-Jun placed a hand on his hip to steady him and, with a single sharp fingernail, cut through the thick fabric so he could get a better look at the wound.
It was barely a scratch, shallow by all measures.
Above him, Shang Qinghua giggled. “Shoulda seen their faces my king. They…hehe…” Mobei-Jun flicked his eyes up to Shang Qinghua’s face. His pupils were blown wide and he had a broad grin on his face. “They burst in through the door, swords drawn!” Shang Qinghua’s giggles turned into full blown peals of laughter. With mounting concern, Mobei-Jun eyed the flesh wound on Shang Qinghua’s thigh critically. He hadn’t lost much - if any - of his own blood. So why was he acting so strangely?
Shang Qinghua’s laughter subsided to giggling. “Heh…So I was sitting at my desk right?” Silence. Mobei-Jun prodded at the scratch. It smelled…odd. With a grumble, Shang Qinghua threaded his hand into Mobei-Jun’s hair and pulled his face up so he could make eye contact with him. “My King,” Shang Qinghua murmured.
A flash of heat shot through Mobei-Jun so fast that he had to bite the inside of his cheek so he didn’t say anything untoward. He could feel his face warming as Shang Qinghua’s hazy eyes gazed at him, fingers tightening in his hair.
All at once, he released Mobei-Jun and let his hand fall onto his stomach. “Pay attention to me,” Shang Qinghua pouted.
With a sigh, Mobei-Jun sat back and surveyed Shang Qinghua’s supine form while Shang Qinghua continued to babble. “Hehe, anyway. They came in, swords drawn blah blah blah - you know how it is with these assassin types. And I was at my desk right?” Shang Qinghua glanced up at him expectantly.
Mobei-Jun nodded as he shifted forward into a crouch.
“Hehehe so at my desk right? And they were yelling— uh….” Shang Qinghua paused and blinked slowly. After another blink, he opened his eyes wide. “Yelling about some kind of poison that they could use on you, my King! But it seems their intel was bad and they thought my office was your bedroom!” Shang Qinghua began to giggle again as Mobei-Jun hefted him into his arms, careful to avoid touching his exposed thigh.
Shang Qinghua dropped his voice conspiratorially, “But do you know why they thought that, my King?”
Mobei-Jun shook his head, doing his level best to focus on the need to get Shang Qinghua cleaned up instead of how warm he was in his arms, how the smell of blood mingled with his scent, how he was burying his face in Mobei-Jun’s rapidly heating neck and snuffling at it.
“Heheheh because I fed them that information!! So of course…” Shang Qinghau threw an arm out, another knife - one of the several Shang Qinghua kept hidden on his person, but clean this time - clutched in it. “I disposed of them for you, my King! Couldn't have them hurting what’s mine, now could i!” When Mobei-Jun looked down at Shang Qinghua, his eyes were clearer than they had been moments ago. Mobei-Jun thought they paired nicely with the sharp smile on Shang Qinghua's face.
The blood in Mobei-Jun’s cheeks warmed as he imagined Shang Qinghua fighting off the two intruders. He had seen Shang Qinghua fight before - a rare thing but nonetheless a sight to behold. He would have stood up from his desk, feigning weakness. His attackers would have approached, blades levelled at him. When they were in range, Shang Qinghua’s hands would move lightning fast to his waist sash, towards the blades he kept there - several for throwing and at least two for close range combat.
Eyes drifting down to one of the bodies, it was clear which one had been the victim of a well-aimed throwing knife, as the blade was still lodged in the foolish demon’s eye.
The other one must have made it closer, realization that they were dealing with a legitimate foe dawning on them just in time to dodge the second projectile - which was buried in the heavy wood of the closed door. They were fast enough to at least get a single hit in on Shang Qinghua - which would explain the thigh wound. They were, however, not fast enough to dodge Shang Qinghua’s long, thin dagger as he slashed at their chest - an obvious feint - before driving it into their neck.
Shaking himself, Mobei-Jun flicked his eyes towards the shining, sharp blade Shang Qinghua was waving around like a child’s toy. Carefully, He shifted his arms so Shang Qinghua was momentarily balanced in one arm so he could pluck the blade out of his hand. As Mobei-Jun continued his march towards the door, he placed the blade on Shang Qinghua’s desk, taking note that he would need to send someone in to deal with the bodies laid out on the floor.
“Hehehe, did I do a good job, my King?” Shang Qinghua wheedled, reburying his face into Mobei-Jun’s neck.
Clearing his throat, Mobei-Jun said quietly, “Qinghua always does a good job.”
A sharp intake of breath tickled the hot skin on his neck. A second later, Shang Qinghua was flopping his head back with a broad smile on his face. “And now you’re carrying your savior to his bedchambers?”
Mobei-Jun glanced down at the Shang Qinghua’s lax face and cocked an eyebrow. “What kind of poison did they have on their blades?”
Cracking an eye open, Shang Qinghua peered at him suspiciously. “Nothing that will kill me, obviously. Should wear off in a few hours at most.”
Rolling his eyes, Mobei-Jun squeezed Shang Qinghua lightly. With a gentle squawk, Shang Qinghua threw an arm around Mobei-Jun’s neck. “Laughing Devil’s Lettuce.. Makes you feel reaaaaaalllly nice but also makes your reflexes reaaaaaallly slow once it kicks in fully.” He narrowed his eyes. “Also makes your vision all funny.”
He continued to peer at Mobei-Jun’s face for another moment before letting his head loll onto Mobei-Jun’s shoulder. With a sigh, Mobei-Jun paced towards the shadows at the far end of the room, stepping into them and then reemerging in Shang Qinghua’s sparsely appointed bedchamber. Slowly, he deposited his charge onto the bed. Shang Qinghua looked up at him with wide, unfocused eyes, that same goofy smile on his face. Reaching for the basin at the side of the bed, Mobei-Jun touched the warming talisman on the side, soaked the rag hanging off the lip of it, and began to gently wipe away the blood on Shang Qinghua’s face.
“Hmmm…Feels nice, my King.” His eyes slid shut and his breathing evened out as Mobei-Jun continued to slowly wipe down the sides of his neck. Once most of the blood was removed, he divested Shang Qinghua of his ruined outer robe. He eyed Shang Qinghua's trousers with only a small amount of trepidation before deciding those needed to go too. Without looking, he pulled them down and off, flinging them across the room in his haste, before quickly bundling Shang QInghua under the covers.
He sat and watched Shang Qinghua rest for several minutes, eyes flicking over his relaxed features. His breathing was normal, he wasn’t sweating - he was fine. He would have told Mobei-Jun if the poison was deadly or would have lasting effects. Still…
Mobei-Jun carefully crawled onto the bed and leaned against the headboard, eyes still trained on Shang Qinghua’s face. It wouldn’t hurt to stay here for the night, just in case.
He woke hours later to Shang Qinghua’s head in his lap, drool pooling on the fabric of his trousers. He hadn’t intended to fall asleep - his ears heated with the prospect of Shang Qinghua waking up and seeing him in his bed in the morning. Gently shifting around so as not to wake Shang Qinghua, he edged himself off the bed.
Before he made his escape, a hand shot out. “Mnhu Knng…” Shang Qinghua slurred into the sheets.
Freezing, Mobei-Jun turned back towards the bed. Shang Qinghua still had his eyes closed but he had a terrific moue on his face. “Wherre you gong…?”
The temperature in the room seemed to be rising, the heat coming straight from Shang Qinghua’s grip and suffusing through Mobei-Jun’s body. Quietly, he said, “This King has matters to attend to.”
With a whine, Shang Qinghua pulled Mobei-Jun’s hand close, trying to bundle it to his chest. “Nooooo….!”
As a matter of biology, Mobei-Jun did not sweat. However, there was apparently a first time for everything. He tugged on his hand, slowly at first, and then more insistently as the vice grip Shang Qinghua had on it tightened. The silent battle wore on until Shang Qinghua finally huffed and, propping himself up halfway on an elbow, fixed Mobei-Jun with a bleary glare.
Mobei-Jun stared back, eyes wide, breath caught in his throat as he tried not to stare at Shang Qinghua’s exposed shoulder where his inner robe had slipped down. “Fine,” Shang Qinghua grumbled.
Time slowed as Shang QInghua brought Mobei-Jun’s captured hand to his lips. Time stopped when Shang Qinghua pressed a soft, dry kiss to Mobei-Jun’s knuckles.
Time sped back up to regular speed when Shang Qinghua flashed Mobei-Jun a small smile, grumbled a barely audibly “G’night my King,” and then flopped back onto the mattress, face already buried into the sheets as he began to lightly snore.
Maybe the heating talisman from the water basin had gotten stuck to Mobei-Jun’s body because that was the only explanation he could come up with for the warmth gathering in his face and limbs. Without waiting, he stalked over to the shadows and stepped in, making a fast track to his own chambers.
Removing his clothes and checking his body manually for evidence of the talisman did nothing to relieve the heat racing through him. With a sigh, he laid down and stared up at his ceiling, mind churning as thoughts of Shang Qinghua, still with the scent of blood clinging to him, half-dressed and half-asleep, kissing his hands, ran roughshod through his thoughts.
5.
Shang Qinghua came bustling into the room, robes swishing and boots clicking on the stone floor. “My King, we have to go. You were supposed to be in the Great Hall half a shichen ago! What is the hold up? Did you…”
Mobei-Jun had turned around when Shang Qinghua entered the room and was now fully facing him. He…Ok. He had been trying to get his hair into some semblance of order for said half shichen and it just. Was not happening.
That, however was not why Mobei-Jun was currently frozen in place, eyes wide and cheeks suddenly feeling hotter than the brazier's Shang Qinghua sometimes lit in his office when he was working for particularly long stretches of time.
No, what was giving him that strange, warm squirming feeling in his stomach was seeing Shang Qinghua, dressed in the fine robe Mobei-Jun had given him during the previous winter, wearing the earrings Mobei-Jun had rewarded him with as a token of service, and the hair piece Mobei-Jun had specially commissioned for him. Shang Qinghua cocked his head to the side curiously. “My King…?”
It was then that Mobei-Jun also realized that Shang Qinghua had braided his hair. And not just in the simple braid he sometimes put it in when he slept (which he sometimes kept it in the next day when he was too busy to put it up in a bun. Mobei-Jun was always impressed that Shang Qinghua still managed to make it look charming even if slightly disheveled). Rather, Shang Qinghua had braided his hair in the intricate style of….of….
“Qinghua.”
“Hm?” Shang Qinghua was still standing in the doorway, hands now on his hips.
Mobei-Jun crossed his arms over his chest to keep from fidgeting. “Where did you learn how to braid your hair like that?”
Shang QInghua blinked at him. “Uh? I taught myself?” When Mobei-Jun remained silent, Shang Qinghua continued, “I rarely bother - takes too much time to do on myself - but I was walking through the Hall of Ancestors last week and there was a painting of a woman - looked a bit like you, my King - strong genes I guess - and she had her hair in the loveliest braids so I just thought, since the Winter Banquet was coming up, that it might look nice is all.” He finished his rambling explanation with a shrug.
There was a heat in Mobei-Jun’s chest that had begun to spread when he first saw Shang Qinghua standing in his doorway adorned in the finery Mobei-Jun had given to him. That heat was now travelling up the back of his neck and up to the tips of his ears as Shang QInghua’s words sunk in. Shang Qinghua had seen a woman - who looked like Mobei-Jun - who had her hair in the style of the spouse of the ruler of the Northern Desert.
Shang Qinghua had seen a painting of Mobei-Jun’s mother, thought the style looked nice, and had copied it down to the most minute detail.
If Shang Qinghua walked into the Great Hall looking like that, dressed in the clothes and jewels and hair piece Mobei-Jun had gifted him then…then…
“My King? Do you maybe need some help with your hair, too? It’s a lot easier for me to do someone else’s hair, if I’m being honest. Shouldn’t take me long either! I’ve been reliably informed I’m quiet good at it!” Shang Qinghua was already approaching him. Mobei-Jun allowed himself to be herded into a chair so Shang Qinghua could get to work.
Before he knew it, Shang Qinghua was brushing out his hair, still chattering away quietly. “I saw another painting next to the woman - I think the style that the man in the painting was wearing would suit you better, don’t you, my King?” Mobei-Jun kept himself stiller than a stone as Shang Qinghua’s fingers ran along his scalp, dividing his hair into even pieces so he could weave it together with thin threads of silver. He tied each braid off with fasteners that shone with small sapphires. With a smile, Shang QInghua stepped away and motioned for Mobei-Jun to take a look.
Blinking at himself in the mirror, Mobei-Jun caught sight of the deep blue flush on his cheeks, the precious metal and gems woven in and tying his hair off shining like stars. His eyes landed on the small, pleased smile on Shang Qinghua’s face over his shoulder. Together they looked like they were a matched set.
Just like the two people in those paintings.
Swallowing heavily, Mobei-Jun directed his gaze to Shang Qinghua’s reflection in the mirror. If he said no, Mobei-Jun didn’t want to be facing him.
The silence dragged on for several long seconds. Shang Qinghua stood still, eyes watching him curiously but with that same small smile on his face.
“Qinghua,” Mobei-Jun murmured. The deep flush started to creep down his face. He thought he saw the corner of Shang Qinghua’s mouth twitch up before his mouth rearranged itself to match the curious expression on his face.
Gently placing a hand on Mobei-Jun’s shoulder, Shang Qinghua asked quietly, “Are you ready to go, my King, or is there something else you need?”
The hand on his shoulder burned through his formal robes, searing into his skin, infiltrating his veins. It ran across his nerves, lighting them up and set the fire burning in his chest to inferno levels. He took a deep breath and locked eyes with Shang Qinghu again, who had leaned forward just slightly.
“Marry me.”
Mobei-Jun had the distinct pleasure of watching Shang Qinghua’s face cycle through a series of complicated emotions. First, his eyes went wide and his mouth slack. Next, he slammed his mouth shut and took a step back, hand tightening on Mobei-Jun’s shoulder at the same time. Then, he stuttured out a series of noises that Mobei-Jun would hesitate to call words. Finally, eyes growing misty, a gentle smile burst across his face as he leaned forward so he could whisper right into Mobei-Jun’s heated ear.
“Yes.”
+1
Shang QInghua slammed his eyes shut with a groan. “Mobei, please.”
“Mmmm, no.” Another kiss landed on his chest, feather light. “Qinghua is just so…”
Gritting his teeth, Shang QInghua steeled himself.
“Gorgeous.”
Whining, Shang Qinghua tried to wriggle away, face feeling hotter than the forges on Wan Jian Peak. The grip on his waist tightened and another cooling kiss landed on his skin - this time on his collarbone. A hint of teeth followed it up, pulling a gasp out of Shang Qinghua. Cracking an eye open and craning his neck, he was met with the sight of Mobei-Jun looking up at him, eyes bright with amusement.
Breathing heavily, Shang Qinghua tentatively placed a hand on Mobei-Jun’s head, running his fingers through his hair. Maybe he was done talking! Probably, right!? Yeah he had to be! Surely Mobei would get down (hahaha!) business soon and not keep torturing Shang Qinghua like this…!
All of the air escaped Shang Qinghua’s lungs as Mobei-Jun wrapped his lips around a nipple and sucked on it before pulling off. “So responsive to this King’s attention,” he muttered against Shang Qinghua's chest. “Qinghua is so good to take what this King has to offer.”
Despite the colder than human temperature of the body draped over him, Shang Qinghua felt like he was going to self-immolate. He really needed Mobei-Jun to stop talking!!
“My King…!”
Propping himself up on an elbow with a smirk, Mobei-Jun ran his eyes up and down Shang Qinghua’s partially exposed body, an air of possessiveness in his gaze. He ran a single clawed finger down Shang Qinghua’s ribs, stopping at the waistband of his trousers. “Is there something Qinghua wants?”
Shuddering, Shang QInghua pressed his lips together, trying to will the fire racing through him to abate while simultaneously trying to slow the thumping of his heart against his ribcage.
Sadly, Mobei-Jun knew how to play dirty. Looming over him, Mobei-Jun fixed him with a heated look before dipping down and capturing his lips in a shockingly gentle kiss. He pulled away a fraction of an inch, breathing against Shang Qinghua’s mouth. “Qinghua tastes so good.” He kissed him again. When he pulled away again, Shang Qinghua leaned his head up with a quiet groan, trying to chase his lips. Huffing out a laugh, Mobei-Jun repeated his previous question.
“Is there something Qinghua wants?” He regarded him, eyes still dancing.
Shang Qinghua stared back mutinously. My King, please! Haven’t you been teasing this poor husband long enough!! You haven’t even taken off his pants!!!
“You know what I want,” he grumbled mutinously.
Rolling his eyes - ROLLING HIS EYES AT SHANG QINGHUA!! THE NERVE!! - Mobei-Jun placed a cool hand on Shang Qinghua’s cheek, stroking it gently with his thumb. “I do but,” Shang Qinghua narrowed his eyes at him, waiting. A mischievous smile spread across Mobei-Jun’s lips, lighting his face up like the sun hitting a clear, frozen lake. “But I like seeing you blush so prettily.”
With a deep breath, Shang Qinghua braced his core and pitched himself up, element of surprise (and maybe a little bit of qi) helping him topple Mobei-Jun onto his back with a light grunt. Swinging his legs over Mobei-Jun’s waist with a shout of triumph, Shang Qinghua looked smugly down at him. For the second time in as many minutes, the air in his lungs evacuated his body. Beneath him, hair splayed out on the bed like an inky sea, cheeks dusted with a dark, blue flush Mobei-Jun lay there, looking up at him with such fondness that Shang Qinghua groaned and shut his eyes again. He pitched forward to hide his burning face in Mobei-Jun’s neck.
“Not fair, Mobei, not fair.” He grumbled against his skin before starting to mouth at it.
He was rewarded with a soft, rumbling laugh as a hand came up and stroked slowly down his spine. “I could say the same to you, Qinghua.”
With a quiet huff, Shang Qinghua tilted his face upward, melting the rest of Mobei-Jun’s words from out of his mouth with a heated kiss.