The Emperor's favorite lotus

V.

The pleasure of possessing Shen Jiu was marred by the face watching him behind the cloud of his own pleasure. Instead of finding tranquillity and access to his skin, Luo Binghe found the tense strength of the muscles of his legs, of his torso. In addition, Shen Jiu's closed eyes were riddled with tears, his fingers full of tremors.

His lips, his tongue, his attention, unlike with the Emperor's wives, Shen Jiu utterly refused to surrender without thought of the consequences. His teeth chattered. Behind the couple's back, the cups exploded into splinters like stars on the white carpet. Shen Jiu tensed, taking advantage of the apparent distraction to launch a direct kick at the Emperor's face.

Without even hesitating, Luo Binghe parried the move. The force he applied was not even a thousandth of his power, but it was enough to apace any future desire to attack. On his forehead, the mark of the Heavenly Demons burned unchecked. Shen Jiu just managed to cover his face with his arms, his hair a storm-filled cloud around his face.

"Why, why, why can't I have you at all!!!?" was the roar of the thoughts of Shen Qingqiu's once most powerful disciple. The dark nails digging into the snowy skin until the membrane was stained with blood, a slight whimper escaping the former teacher's already broken defenses.

The demon's pupils fixed on his victim again, bloodworms throbbing between his veins and in each of his organs. At a command, those legs would open before him and the pleasure they would feel would be mutual, wonderful, at last worthy of them.

However, he didn't want that. He wanted Shen Jiu's smile, the sweet, unrepeatable love that existed in that other reality. Without that bond, without that affection, what did he care about any of the holes in that body? At last, Luo Binghe found what he needed and he didn't plan to let it go again.

Before he could control the passion of his emotion, a tear slid down his cheek and landed on another's nose. The surprise of the other's expression brought the Emperor to a final conclusion, the candle of his anger fading as his eyes faded and a sinister smile appeared like a snake across his face.

He touched the other's face, pressed his fingers to his forehead. Shen Qingqiu would pay for his sins one last time and, at last, surrender to him as he always should have.

The Emperor's snapped his fingers as he concentrated.

Yue Qingyuan.

Yue Qingyuan.

Yue Qingyuan.

The half demon reached into the center of the Master's thoughts, his memories. Luo Binghe searched, rummaged and made sure that every one of those boys who had been his martial uncle became him. That pathetic, sad, dirty Luo Binghe. That wretched, half-breed boy who never knew love away from squalor and poverty.

If Shen Jiu could not love him like Luo Binghe, he would also steal that last scrap of his love just as he did.

The world above the man's eyes was red.

A light, perfumed, elegant vermilion. It wasn't his first time dressed in that colour, but it was the first where he didn't find himself fighting the urge to vomit or scream. Red, always synonymous with pains and sinister presences behind a door, was now the equivalent of pleasures, of love.

"Excellence."

Shen Jiu opened his eyes under the veil, moving around it like water. He caressed his knees as he cocked the head in the direction of one of the servants who would lead him to the throne room. His shadow was so large and menacing, common in the realms of demons. The Old Master could not defend himself, but his heart remained calm before the kneeling figure, surely armed. No one would touch him in any of the three worlds.

Who could dare to face the Emperor?

"Is it time?". He whispered without ceasing to caress his knees and thighs, the pulsations of blood, of red, were alien to himself. Almost painful, as if he had difficulty moving in the future. He sighed again, hugging himself. The black hollowness at the back of his head was impossible to figure, to calm.

Suddenly, the veil around him felt like the icy caresses of iron. A golden cage filled with endless amusements, pleasure to know, knowledge and hours of complete relaxation. Much better than a tiny hut in the middle of bamboo forests, at least.

"Yes, Your Excellency."

Shen Jiu was still not used to the tingling of his own legs, the circulation under his skin always causing him a strange nostalgia he couldn't quite put his finger on. But, even so, Shen Jiu rose without interrupting the aura of reverence and security that his presence had acquired after escaping the dungeons. Without needing to ask for help, the servant's hands led him to the palanquin laid out for him. In turn, he slipped under the cloth a packet of rice sweets prepared by the Emperor himself.

As the old Master nibbled on one of the cookies, he explored the spaces in his memory over the swaying of the transport. He smelled the stink of the beasts, the tinkling of their decorations and jewelry. Shen Jiu wiped the remnants of the crumbs from his lap as he patiently brought them to his own lips. To waste even a scrap of food was an insult to all the corpses cowering in the shadows of the alleys.

He remembered the time on the street, a child's voice speaking to him through the wood. The pain of abuse, of betrayal, the heat of fire against his face and the taste of blood in his mouth. Every instant of his miserable childhood and adolescence was still fresh in his memory.

"Xiao Jiu, I'll come back for you, wait for me!" cried the firm but childish voice of a child yet to enter puberty. His stomach would cringe at night as that whisper entered his placid dreams, between him and the man who would become his only sigh for the next few nights, for absolute Eternity.

"A-Jiu. Don't worry, this time I will keep my promise" was the only answer to his crying that he did not know how to drown, the tremors that shook his body just like earthquakes to the earth. The color of Luo Binghe's eyes matched those of fire, his smile making him feel safe as his own instinct screamed for escape from a danger he did not understand.

A woman's scream brought him back to reality.

The dots of lights through the veil and the curtains of the palanquin placed him in the aisle before the throne room, where a second seat had already been placed just for him. Sweat pearled his forehead, his hands pale and sore from the strength with which he clutched his own knees. Without varying his expression, he let go of the grip and wiggled her fingers until the sensation returned to them.

Once again, Shen Jiu was an immortal-seeming being, wondrous and completely removed from the reality of other living beings. However, unlike his time as a master, now his robes were entirely red and gold. The fan among its fabrics to match the event, the mark of Luo Binghe on the handle marked by jades and golds. For the occasion, at least. He knew that, after exchanging wine and performing the three bows, black and red would also become part of his own attire.

"Yes, this is as it should be," the man said to himself as he relaxed in the seat, the cries of the women keening as they walked through the doors of the ancient harem. The voice was different from his Luo Binghe's but so what? Hadn't he thrown him into the Endless Abyss? Didn't he ignore his feelings to the point of maddening the now Emperor? Enough punishment existed in the past for his offences by abandoning him in that hell mansion, it was only fair to give Luo Binghe the heart as his reward.

Shen Jiu's smile filled his expression as he listened to the groan of flesh breaking, the words of pleading and pain reminding the old master of his own screams, back in those nightmares that only his husband managed to appease. The future was his with the Emperor, heirs would grow up in the only woman who deserved to live, and the ghosts of a sweet smile would become a bad memory in a few years.

And yet, when Luo Binghe lifted the curtain and offered his hand to help Shen Jiu to the throne, why were his cheeks covered with tears and his heart remained veiled in the white of mourning?