Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Someone was…

…singing?

No.

Humming.

Slowly, sadly, sweetly.

Someone, perhaps the same someone, was also stroking the hill of his cheek in a careful, steady rhythm.  A finger? A thumb. Calloused but warm. The motion was deliberate, exact—each soft caress following precisely the same path as the one before.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

It was…nice. Soothing.

Without thought, he found himself leaning further into the touch, wanting more.

The humming stopped.

The thumb froze.

“Shizun?” questioned a voice.

…Who?

Wait. Wasn’t there…

There was… something.

He needed to—

He needed—

Before he could finish this half-baked thought, an overwhelming sense of confusion clouded his mind, a dizziness, a fog, and…and—

—and nausea.

Ergh.

He could feel his brows furrow at the unpleasant twisting in his gut. He shifted restlessly on the thin mattress beneath him in an attempt to alleviate the ache, but the movement gave little in the way of relief. The scratchy covers slipped down from his chest, but a foreign hand was quick to pull them back up once more.

“Shizun?” the voice echoed, this time closer, more insistent.

“Ergh…” he replied.

“Shizun, look at me.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his lips together and wrinkling his nose.

Then—

"Please.”

Everything that's happened in the past... I'll repay it all to you today.  

His eyes burst open as he sucked in a sharp breath, jolting to full awareness.

“Shizun! Shizun, it’s okay. You’re alright. Everything’s going to be okay. I won't let anything else happen to you.”

Before he could figure out what those words meant, and before he could fully parse through the dim darkness that surrounded him, his vision was immediately arrested by the pale perfection of a face—a man’s face, young and handsome, wide eyed, desperate, and hopeful.

“…Shizun?”

He blinked up dumbly.

He then blinked a few more times—just to be safe.

Okay.

Cool.

This was fine.

Beautiful people didn’t make him nervous.

Not at all.

“Wha—?” he croaked out intelligently.

The young man grabbed hold of his arm in a frantic sort of way, as though he couldn’t quite help himself, as though he needed the touch. Confused, he looked down at the young man’s trembling, white knuckled grip.

“…Uh,” he began.

“Yes?” the man prompted, breathless. “What do you need? Water? Food? Say it and I swear it will be yours.”

He looked back up.

And as their gaze connected, as he looked into the red of those eyes—shimmering with a cocktail of unidentifiable emotions—time seemed to stand strangely still.

There was an odd moment of… something shared between them.

A connection?

A divine understanding?

…Indigestion, maybe?

And then, before he had time to think more on the subject, his worldview changed as a slow smile bloomed on the face opposite him, full of relief and hope. And then the fucker laughed. And it was exquisite.

It sounded like home.

What the fuck.  

It left his chest overfull and warm. Pleasant. Safe.

What the fuck.

Feeling a sudden headache come on, he reached up with his free hand to rub at his forehead, as though to ease the throbbing behind his brow.

The man continued, unaware. “Shizun, I apologize. I know what you must be thinking, and I will explain. But I—I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you’re okay. That you're not turning me away, that you're not upset. Don't you see? This changes everything between us. If only I'd known, if only I'd seen. Shizun, from now on I swear—"

“Do I know you?” he suddenly blurted like a dumbass.

That smile froze in place.

Looking back, maybe it wasn’t the best thing to ask the tall, dark, unfairly handsome man currently looming at his bedside, looking already rather damp eyed and weepy.

And, in his defence, he hadn’t meant to ask it. He was planning on keeping the truth about his lack of memory closer to his chest, at least until he knew more about his situation. But, for whatever reason, the words had spewed from his mouth entirely without his consent or control.

He swallowed the instinctive apology that threatened to rise to his throat as the clingy fingers currently clutching his arm tightened painfully—long, sharp nails digging into his skin. At the same time, blood red eyes darted between both of his—as though desperate to find a hint of a lie in his words.

When the young man didn’t find whatever it was he sought, his expression crumbled.

“Of course…” the young man breathed out eventually, followed by a self-deprecating, mocking sort of chuckle. “Of course you would forget me. Of course I deserve—”

Before something horrible could happen—like crying —he quickly cut the young man off.

“Wait! No! Please. You shouldn’t feel bad, because…because—!”

His words fell away as those red eyes looked up at him.

…Shit, were they glistening?

Fuck.

“Uh.”

“…Shizun?”

He cleared his throat.

He tugged pointedly at his hand.

The grip tightened.

Cool.

“Because I don’t actually know who… I am either?” he said, fidgeting. “So really, it’s nothing personal. ”

For a long time, silence was his only answer.

And then something in that perfect face cracked even further.

It was somewhat difficult to describe the expression of the stranger staring back at him. It was still beautiful, achingly so, and perhaps it was safe to say he would look perfect no matter his expression.

But now…despite that beauty, that perfection, it physically hurt to look at him.

The young man looked pained, distraught, undone. He looked broken, hollowed out and chipped away—left with too little, left with nothing.

A lone tear fell fast down the slope of his left cheek.

“You—” he began hoarsely after several moments, then stopped as his voice cracked. He appeared to struggle to compose himself, scrubbing away the tear from his cheek as he cleared his throat. “You remember nothing? Nothing of me? Nothing of us?”

Ho boy.

“Well, it’s more like I remember nothing of anything really,” he admitted, trying to add a note of levity in his voice only for it to crack halfway because he was awkward like that. “So like I said, it’s not you! It’s, well. Me.” He inwardly winced at his wording. And then, because the young man still looked positively wrecked, and also because he couldn’t help it, he added weakly “...Sorry.”

The young man stared at him incredulously. Then, a beat later, he let out a wet laugh. “Why are you apologizing?"

“I just…feel like I should.”

The other man smiled weakly—fondly. “Even now, so kind.”

At this, something in his chest clenched and ached. Like guilt. Like heartache.

What the fuck.

Really not wanting to think of the connotations of that particular sensation, and also feeling somewhat at a disadvantage lying prone on his back in bed,  he decided it was about time he sat up. Of course, as soon as he began to push himself more upright, the young man at his bedside immediately lunged forward to offer assistance.

“Shizun, let me—!”

He waved off the offered hands. “It’s fine, I’m okay.”

And he was, for the most part. Sure, he was definitely sore, but he felt this soreness was more akin to having overworked his body rather than the soreness of recovering from any sort of wound. 

Finally upright, he turned back to the young man, who had once more adopted a sad, kicked-puppy sort of expression.

He pointedly cleared his throat, bringing those red eyes immediately back to his.

“So. Uh. Who are you?” he asked. “To me, that is.”

The man froze at the question, his eyes going wide. He opened his mouth after several moments of tense silence, but it closed soon after. His gaze lowered. He released a trembling breath. 

His brows furrowed, a muscle jumped in his jaw.

“…Is it a difficult question?” he asked, somewhat bewildered as he ducked his head to try and catch that red eyed stare, noting the shifting expressions on the young man’s face. He fought the sudden wave of uneasiness that the sight brought, absently picking at a loose string on the blanket between his fingers. “You called me ‘Shizun’…I thought perhaps I was…?”

“You were,” said the young man, a distant sort of look in his eye.

So he was someone worthy of being called Shizun—even on a former basis. That was. Well. 

Unlikely?

Unlikely titles aside, for some reason, he felt his heart clench in his chest at the words. He resisted the urge to reach up and rub uselessly at the ache.

“Oh,” he said, all forced levity. “So… am I no longer your shizun?”

Lips pressed into a line. “No.” 

Shit, why was this such a sensitive subject?

“And now?” he prompted.

Red eyes watched him for several long, long moments, his expression had gone carefully blank, giving nothing away. 

“Now…” the young man began, only to close his mouth before finishing, head tilted in a considering sort of motion.

It was certainly…unnerving to be watched so intently. He wondered absently if he had been able to decipher this strange man before, when he could still remember, or if he was a mystery to him even then.

As he watched, something seemed to shift in that expression, something uncertain and nameless. 

Something calculating.

The silence stretched.

And then—shockingly —a small, sad smile appeared on the young man’s face. It was wistful and solemn and held just the right hint of longing. 

“Now...you're my husband.”

It was his turn to freeze.

What.

Oh.

Well.

That was—

Okay.

Straight to the point.

Or.

Not straight to the point.

Hah. Hah. Haaaaah.

Gay.

He was—

Gay.

Bisexual?

That was…

Well.

Okay?

Okay.

He could…roll with that, he supposed. It was…well it was what it was, wasn’t it? Gay.

Which was, surprisingly…okay?

Well fuck.

It was…an unexpected reveal. He didn’t feel particularly gay. But then if he was always gay, maybe he just got used to it?

What did being gay feel like, anyway?

Wait. 

He was gay.

What did being straight feel like???

…

Well, nevermind!

He had more important things to consider, anyways. Like the more unbelievable aspect of this situation—

How had he landed that?

“Husband,” he echoed woodenly.

A slow nod. Red eyes watchful.

“I see,” he said, nodding a tad bit too hard. “You and me. Us. We.”

Brows furrowed. “Is this so unexpected?”

A delicate cough. “I mean, you’re very…”

Those same brows rose, waiting.

“Very…”

Another cough.

“Yes?”

“Fit.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Hah. Ha. Ah….Apology accepted. Where are we?”

“What—?”

“Is this our house?” he asked hurriedly, pointedly looking around. He tried to ignore the way his ears felt hot.

But now that he mentioned it, it was a fair question. The place looked rather shabby, after all. Were they poor? They seemed poor. Oh god, was he using up their money on medicine?

“This is an inn,” the young man—his husband— said slowly, his eyes darting briefly to their surroundings before that intent gaze once more fell on him. “You really thought we lived here?”

“Well, how was I supposed to know?” he muttered, wiggling his toes and picking at his fingernails. “Where do we live?”

“We are…in between living situations,” his husband (husband!!!) explained. For a moment those red eyes darted down to his fidgeting fingers in confusion. He stopped the motion immediately, burying his hands beneath the covers. The gaze lifted once more. “Are you…not going to ask how you lost your memory?”

“I was getting there,” he said. Ho boy, it was warm in here. Very warm. Who turned up the heat? “I have a list.“

“A list?”

“Mhm. Of questions. In my head. Not on paper, obviously. I don’t have a pen. But I feel like I’m a list maker, ya know? Well, I suppose you would know being my hhh…my hhhhhhh-erk. Being you. But lists. Lists seem natural. Organized! And if I wasn’t a list maker I should have been. A maker of lists. A list master.”

“A…list master.”

“Yes.”

He looked at the youngmanthatwashishusband. Then he looked away. Fuck he was pretty. Wait fuck, that was gay.

Wait, he was gay.

Right.

Fuck.

“And on your list you make in your head because you don’t have a…pen.”

“Or pencil. Might want to erase.”

“...On this mental list, our living situation ranks higher than how you got here?”

“I was following the natural flow of conversation,” he snapped, staring resolutely at the tent his toes made beneath the blanket rather than at his hhh…at his hhhhhhuuuus— “It’s only polite.”

“And you think this is a situation that calls for politeness?” the man—husband— man beside him—asked. He definitely sounded amused.

“It’s…uh…”

“You’re flustered,” the young man, maybe husband, realized with something akin to awe as he watched him closely—always so closely.  

“NO!" he shrieked, slapping his hands against his cheeks. They were hot beneath the skin of his clammy palms. “I’m just—”

“What has you so embarrassed, Shizun?” the words were spoken in a soft, low, awed tone. A teasing tone. 

Like he was fl—

Fliiiiiiiir—

FLIRTING.

His head swiveled to face his HUSBAND, glaring between his palms.

“Are you always this shameless?”

His husband grinned in delight. Actually grinned. Eyes crinkled and flashing with amusement, dimples—dimples— fully on display, straight white teeth.

He was—

Beautiful, spell binding, captivating.

Fuck.

…Wasn’t he crying a few minutes ago?!

“You’re such—"

But whatever he might have said was interrupted by the loud groan of his stomach. His eyes widened as he slapped a hand to his belly, as though to muffle the noise. He looked at his huuusb—hhhhhhhh—at the young man in horror.

His…his person seemed for some reason strangely delighted. He looked charmed? His grin had faded into a smaller smile, and he watched him with a strange fondness.

What had he done to earn the affection in those eyes?

For some reason he felt a sudden twist of envy for the person who he was before his memory was lost. He shoved it away quickly, because it was stupid to be jealous of himself, after all.

“I’ll get you some food.”

The panic was sudden and unexplainable. He lunged for the fabric of his husband’s robe. “Wait—!“

Those red eyes looked at him in surprise. Then, after a beat, they softened. “I won’t be far. Food first, questions later.”

“You’ll come back?” he asked, fighting the odd panic in his chest. 

His husband laughed—a weird, delighted sort of sound he could almost place—then warm, sharp fingers (his nails were like claws) carefully pried his grip from the dark fabric of the robe, curling around them carefully before depositing the hand back onto the bed.

“Oh, yes. I’ll always come back.”

-----

“What’s your name?” he blurted as soon as his husband entered the room once more.

The young man/husband glanced over at him, a tray of food balanced in his hands. He didn’t answer at first, pausing only to offer him a secret smile as he kicked the door shut behind him with a foot. He then glided over with a grace that seemed almost unnatural for someone of his stature.

“Are you not content to call me husband?”

He sputtered.

His HUSBAND laughed softly, setting down the tray on the side table before reclaiming his seat. “Is that a no?” he asked teasingly, placing the white spoon into a bowl of steaming congee. 

“You—you—!”

“Sit up, please—no, a bit further. There. Now, if you stop twitching I’ll tell you.”

"You!”

“Me.” A smile. “Careful, the bowl is hot.”

“You said— ”

“How odd you are without the facade,” his husband mused quietly, as though to himself. Then he smiled before lowering his head in an informal bow, “I am Luo Binghe.”

“Luo Binghe?” he echoed. The young man—his husband—Luo Binghe—nodded.

He looked down at the bowl that had been placed in his lap, twirling the softened rice grains with the tip of his spoon, drowning the green onion and mixing in the bits of chicken. 

He licked his lips, his thumb tracing the rim of the bowl. He turned back to Luo Binghe, who was already watching him.

“And who am I?”

“You are…” Luo Binghe began, only to trail off. For the first time since he woke up, his composure seemed to falter. That red gaze fell to the untouched bowl of congee.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, frowning. He forced a hesitant laugh, joking, “Do you only ever call me Shizun or husband? What must our friends think?”

Luo Binghe’s eyes shot up, wide. “Friends?”

Oh god.

Did they not have friends?

Were they loners?

Was this another touchy subject?

“Sorry, bad joke,” he said quickly, holding up a hand placatingly whilst balancing the congee bowl with the other. “It’s hard to know what not to say when I don’t know…anything.”

“Right,” Luo Binghe said softly, mournfully. He looked down once more at the laced fingers he held in his lap.

Shit.

He was sad.

What did good husbands do?

Fuck he couldn’t get divorced, he just realized he was married!

Fuck—

Luo Binghe continued, cutting off his thought, “Sorry, I should be more empathetic to your situation. I imagine it must be quite terrifying. I do not mean to tease.”

“No! It’s okay! I mean. I like it?” Red eyes widened. “I mean! Stop! Don’t look so happy! It’s just, it seems normal? Natural? Which feels safe. You feel safe. Which sounds dumb, but then maybe not because you’re my husband? I don’t know. I’m just going to. Eat.”

And then he stuffed his mouth full of congee, pointedly not looking at—

Oh.

Wow, that was good congee.

He turned to face Luo Binghe, only to freeze as he saw the wide eyed awe on the man’s face, his face wet with freshly fallen tears. He looked sad. And broken. And hopelessly in love.

The congee felt like a rock as he forced himself to swallow.

“...Are you okay?” he asked.

Luo Binghe blinked at the question, then seemed to come back to himself, laughing softly as he wiped his eyes. “You are a wonder. Truly. So different, yet so similar.”

His hands curled around his spoon. Something in his chest clenched. “I’m different? Than before?”

“Mm.” A nod. A wistful smile. “Your name is Shen—”

“Yuan!”

Luo Binghe looked up.

Shen Yuan—Shen Yuan—beamed back at him. “That’s my name, isn’t it? Shen Yuan. I remember. Holy shit, that’s such a relief. Saying it feels—it feels—liberating, you know?”

“Liberating,” Luo Binghe echoed in an odd tone as he watched Shen Yuan take another bite of congee. “I see.”

The watchful stare turned once more fond, once more amused, as Shen Yuan hummed happily around his spoon.

“Do you like it?” he asked, lips twitching at the corner into a whisper of a smile.

“Hmm?” Shen Yuan looked up from his bowl, mouth full of food.

His husband gave him that now familiar look of fond confusion—an admittedly odd combination that he nevertheless pulled off effortlessly—before reaching over to adjust the bowl in his lap before it spilled over onto the blankets.

“The congee,” Luo Binghe elaborated, nodding to the bowl he’d just tucked closer. “Do you like it?”

“Yes,” Shen Yuan said after swallowing. He went to wipe his mouth with his sleeve, but faltered halfway at the odd look Luo Binghe was sending him—decidedly less fond this time as the look of confusion began to shift to one of concern. 

He quickly dropped his arm to his side, ashamed. “Sorry,” he said, then winced—what was he apologizing for?

Luo Binghe watched him for a moment, face blank apart from a slight furrow of his brow. Then, softly, he offered another smile. He reached beside himself for an off-white cloth. “Here.”

Looking between his husband’s kind red eyes and the napkin in his hand, he felt suddenly, strangely shy. “Oh. Thank you,” he said, accepting the cloth. “And yes, it’s delicious.”

The answering grin was blinding.

-----

“Can I ask you something?” Shen Yuan whispered that night, after the sun had fallen and their room was filled with the warm light of a flickering candle.

Luo Binghe, lying to his left on the mattress, turned his head. He had chosen for some reason to remain above the covers and, up until this point, had stayed strangely stiff. Nevertheless, his features were softened by the candlelight and, if possible, he looked even more handsome. And now, as he looked over, he offered a smile which was frankly unfair at this point.

“Of course.”

Shen Yuan thought of how he was going to bring it up, but after failing several times to think of how to word his inquiry, he ended up making vague motions towards his own forehead.

Luo Binghe’s smile froze, as did the rest of him, before his face smoothed into a carefully blank expression. “Ah,” he said. “Yes. Does it bother you?”

Shen Yuan frowned.

“The…tattoo?”

He just wanted to know if it was permanent. Or if he’d like…lost bet or something? Frankly, it was kind of hot if he was being honest with himself (and his newly realized sexuality), but he wasn’t going to admit that out loud. 

Luo Binghe blinked twice. “My…background.” At Shen Yuan’s vacant stare, he elaborated slowly, “My demon background.”

Oh.

Wow.

Cool.

That…didn’t seem normal. That really didn’t seem normal. But then, he had lost his memory. And a lot of things didn’t seem normal. Like the swords. The inns. The lack of electricity.

“Oh. No. Not really,” he said.

Luo Binghe’s lips parted with a hitching gasp. His brows were knit together. “You really…you don’t care?” The words were soft, hesitant.

Shen Yuan watched him in turn, considering the almost fragile expression on his face. 

“Did it bother me before?” he asked.

“Yes,” Luo Binghe said. “It did.”

Shen Yuan felt himself frown. “Oh, well it doesn’t now.”

“...Really?”

“Really,” he answered, because it was the truth. Then, because he was a disaster, he added, “It’s kind of hot.”

Luo Binghe sucked in another fast breath at this, red eyes widening, a dusting of pink flushing his cheeks. Of course, Shen Yuan was too busy inwardly screaming to notice.

He also missed the soft, pleased smile Luo Binghe gave.

He was aware of the laugh though, loud and happy, as Luo Binghe reached over and scooped him up into firm, warm arms.

“Ack!”

“You’re wonderful,” Luo Binghe whispered against his ear, warm lips brushing the sensitive skin.

-----

“How did I lose my memory?” Shen Yuan asked a few days later, as they walked along the lengths of a dirt worn path. 

The last few days were…interesting.

On top of the gay thing, and on top of the idol-faced husband thing, it turned out he was also in some ancient cultivation world? And, while he may have lost his memory, he was pretty sure that wasn’t normal.

At least 90% sure.

…Maybe 75%.

He was also fairly certain that Luo Binghe knew nothing of his being…not of this world. And if he was, he made no mention of it. So it was likely he’d just recently transmigrated into this body. Although, that didn’t explain why he couldn’t remember the details of his former life either. Didn’t the transmigrators in all those web novels retain their memories?

In any case, it was taking some getting used to. 

They were currently traveling together across some nameless countryside, stopping every night at various inns. When he asked Luo Binghe where they were going specifically, he would just smile and give him nonanswers. 

“Binghe,” he prompted, louder this time. When his husband finally paused, turned to look at him with a pleasant smile, he repeated his question. “How did I lose my memory?”

That smile faltered. “Hm.”

“Binghe?”

His husband looked away, pulling their travel bag from his shoulders. “...Shall we stop for lunch?”

“Are you going to avoid my question if we do?”

“Would you like fish or chicken?”

“Binghe!”

Luo Binghe sighed, holding out one of the lunch boxes. “Yes, alright, I’ll explain while you eat—please, Shizun? You’ve already lost enough weight.”

Grumbling under his breath, Shen Yuan snatched the lunch box. He tried to figure out a dignified way to sit on the ground in all his many robes—if he was in a cultivation world he should at least act the part, right?—but after trying to elegantly kneel, all he ended up doing was slumping in a heap.

Luo Binghe, who should be used to his clumsiness by now, still looked at him oddly.

Rude.

Cheeks flushed, Shen Yuan started stuffing his face before looking expectantly up at his husband.

Lips twitching in response, Luo Binghe joined him on the grass, much more gracefully, with neat, crossed legs. His face then seemed to sober after a moment, and he began to fiddle with the green blades of grass beside him.

Unconsciously, Shen Yuan moved one of his legs closer, so his boot brushed against Luo Binghe’s thigh. His husband blinked at him in surprise, then gazed down at his shoe. He reached out, grasping Shen Yuan's ankle in his hand gently.

He cleared his throat.

“It was my fault you lost your memory,” Luo Binghe began. “I was—you risked yourself for me. You qi deviated as a result.”

Shen Yuan swallowed his mouthful of chicken. “Oh…” he frowned. “Really?”

“Yes.” Then, quietly, “Please don’t do it again.”

Shen Yuan, who had been about to stuff more chicken into his mouth, lowered his chopsticks at this, considering the words. “Well,” he began, rubbing his nose with a knuckle, “I mean everything turned out, didn’t it?”

Luo Binghe went eerily still at this. Shen Yuan, busy licking a grain of rice off the back of his hand, failed to notice at first. He only really looked up when he felt the hand around his ankle spasm and tighten.

“Binghe?”

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe murmured quietly. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”

Red eyes lifted to meet Shen Yuan’s in a stare that was borderline hostile—dark brows lowered, shoulders tense, mouth set in a thin line. And yet…underneath that volatile intensity was a vulnerability. 

He was afraid.

It was this, more than the glare, that sent shivers up Shen Yuan’s spine.

“Bing—”

“Don’t do it again.”

…And Shen Yuan could do nothing but nod.

Luo Binghe sighed slowly, the stiffness in his shoulders relaxing as his features eased and his eyes cleared somewhat. He offered a weak smile as he nodded to the half eaten lunch box.

“Eat, we still have a ways to go yet before we arrive at the next inn.”

-----

The inn they were staying at this time smelled like radishes. If you were to ask Shen Yuan what a radish smelled like before now, he probably wouldn’t be able to tell you.

Now?

He’d tell you it smelled like this fucking inn.

Sighing loudly, Shen Yuan worried the rough fabric of the blanket between his fingers as he stared at the cracks and holes in the wood ceiling above him. It was a bit dusty, and a small spider was furiously spinning its web in one corner. 

A fly buzzed innocently close by.

“Binghe,” he asked, watching the spider weave, watching the fly meander ever closer. 

“Hm?”

Shen Yuan pulled his eyes from his dismal entertainment to face the young man beside him. Luo Binghe was watching him in turn, a pleasant smile at the ready.

Shen Yuan studied his face for a long time. “You call me Shizun.”

That smile twitched, widened. “Yes. You were my master for many years.”

Yeah.

That’s what he was afraid of.

“...How many years was that? Uh. Exactly?”

“I’ve known you since I was young.”

…Oh God.

He was a creeper.

The gay thing? Not what he was expecting but whatever.

The handsome husband? More unexpected. Unlikely. Definitely a surprise, but at least this was a pleasant one.

But the teacher/student relationship?

Shen Yuan rubbed his eyes.

……Ugh.

Nearby, the fly fought against the sticky web that trapped it as the spider crept ever closer. 

-----

It seemed his husband was anxious to get them home. 

Because apparently, in the time since he’d woken up and now, they had somehow acquired a house.

While he’d been busy groggily stuffing his face with breakfast at their latest inn, his husband had burst through the door with boundless energy and a handful of keys. 

He’d pulled Shen Yuan from his spot at the table and quickly and impatiently ushered him behind the dressing screen with an armful of clothes. Then, after Shen Yuan stared down at the different layers and ties in confusion, Luo Binghe seemed to remember that this was a chore he still needed to help his amnesiac husband with. 

He’d then waved aside Shen Yuan’s fingers and promptly began to dress him. Once done, he pulled Shen Yuan towards the mirror and attacked his sleep-tangled hair with a brush.

“Wait—ow! Gently, Binghe! What do you mean a house? I thought we were in between living situations.”

“Hm. We were.”

Shen Yuan winced at a tug on his scalp, but didn’t complain again. Luo Binghe had gotten gentler. “And in the five days since that time you’ve managed to find us somewhere to live?”

“Yes.”

“That was…fast.”

The reflection of Luo Binghe smiled at him. “There, all done.” He brushed one final hand through the strands that fell free down his back. 

“Shall we?”

-----

Their home, or rather, the place Luo Binghe told him was their home, was a little under a day's walk north, and they found themselves arriving just as the sun began to disappear beneath the tips of the mountains.

The house itself was a decent size, well maintained, and was surrounded by a sea of lush greenery.

It didn’t look familiar.

But then, nothing else did either.

So, smiling, Shen Yuan accepted the offered hand and followed Binghe into their…

Their…

Home?

“Everything alright?”

Shen Yuan jumped in place, head swiveling to Luo Binghe, who wore a confused smile on his face.

“Yes?” he said, brows furrowed. “Yes. Sorry.”

“Shall I show you around?”

“Um. Yes. Sure,” Shen Yuan said, even as he looked behind them, heart in his throat. Swallowing down the feeling, he turned back with a smile. “Yes.”

Chapter Text

It was admittedly somewhat difficult to keep track of the flow of time without a phone, but Shen Yuan figured about half a month had gone by since he’d woken up with his memory in tatters, give or take a few days.  

And, all in all, things were…

…peaceful?

Uneventful?

More so than he would figure given the current setting, at least.

Granted, he had taken to reading and learning more of the world around him but, honestly, he mostly just spent his days sleeping, being doted on, being fed excellent food, and being forced to relax. 

And while he’d been somewhat concerned about his...husbandly duties, Luo Binghe never insisted on anything. In fact, he never even brought it up. The most he would do was hug Shen Yuan chastely in the morning and before they slept. And, though there was only one bed, Luo Binghe always kept a respectful distance.

It was a relief...even if it was a bit confusing. 

Did they not do…it…before? 

Or any…it…adjacent activities?

Did he even want that?

Did Luo Binghe?

Oh God. Did they already need marriage counseling?

And what did it mean that he thought they might need marriage counseling??

What did it mean that he might want marriage counseling???

And, on top of that mortifying mystery, he also had more questions about his past. Like who even was he before? Or, well, it was perhaps more accurate to ask ‘who was this body before?’. 

He still hadn’t quite decided if it was his or someone else's yet.

Which brought him to yet another dilemma.

Luo Binghe was beginning to act strange.

Well. Stranger.

As the days passed—slowly, surely—Luo Binghe was growing increasingly bothered. 

Or perhaps agitated was more apt? Unsettled?

...Guilty?

Shen Yuan wasn’t quite sure how he knew, because his husband gave very little away when he was in front of him. More often than not, he was his usual self—always kind, charming, and oh so careful. But, every now and then, there would be an intensity about his gaze, a tenseness to his shoulder and jaw, a wariness that oozed off him like a toxic miasma. 

Other times he would stare off mournfully, usually after Shen Yuan acted clumsy or said something particularly informal. 

The knowledge made something unpleasant curl and coil in Shen Yuan’s gut.

-----

“Are you happy?” Shen Yuan blurted out one day, grabbing hold of Luo Binghe’s wrist as he was setting out their lunch dishes. The action jostled Binghe’s hand, causing the contents of the bowl he carried to slosh perilously close to the rim. Luckily, Luo Binghe managed to set it down before it could spill.

He shot Shen Yuan a glance—not quite admonishing, never that—but certainly a look that was non-verbally requesting an explanation.

“Sorry!” Shen Yuan quickly let go of his husband. Luo Binghe’s eyes followed the retreat of his hand, then looked back up to meet his gaze as Shen Yuan continued, “Sorry, I just. Wanted to know if you’re…happy.”

Luo Binghe’s face didn’t change for a long moment—blank, watchful. Then, he smiled. “Of course.”

Shen Yuan pressed his lips together as he watched his husband round the table and kneel on the other side. His long, elegant fingers picked up the black lacquered chopsticks beside him before reaching for his food.

“...Are you sure?” 

Luo Binghe set his chopsticks back down with an audible click. 

“Why do you ask?” he questioned, his tone bland. 

Shen Yuan tucked a stray hair behind his ear, feeling somewhat overwhelmed as he tried to explain. “It’s just. Or, rather—well, you just…seem tense is all. Like you’re waiting for something to happen. Like you’re waiting for something to happen to me. To us.”

Silence stretched.

A beat passed.

Two.

Then—

“I’m fine, Shizun,” Luo Binghe said with a smile. “I appreciate your concern.”

“You’re lying,” Shen Yuan snapped, earning him a shocked look from Luo Binghe. “I don’t know how I know but I do. You’re not fine, somethings wrong and if you don’t talk to me, how will I help you fix it? Communication is important in relationships, Binghe! Don’t we ever talk?”

Wide, red eyes stared back at him.

“Are you happy?” Shen Yuan pressed.

Luo Binghe released a trembling sigh. “It’s not that I’m not happy,” he said, rubbing his face. “I just…don’t want you to leave again.”

Again?

“I’m not going anywhere—”

“You’ve said that before.”

“Binghe—”

“I forgot the tea, Shizun. Excuse me.”

And then Luo Binghe gracefully rose from his seat and left.

Shen Yuan didn’t see him until the next morning.

-----

So… his husband maybe had depression.

Possibly also anxiety.

PTSD?

A perfectly good husband and he went and ruined him by qi deviating. 

Or transmigrating. 

Or whatever.

Fine.

This was fine.

All he had to do was provide some…positive reinforcement?

Yeah.

He could fix this.

No problem…

-----

The first opportunity to test his method arose the next morning, when a large beast—some kind of weird combination between a bat and a lizard but with horns—arrived from nowhere and attacked their home.

Fast forward about ten minutes, as Luo Binghe glared down at the remains of the beast, drenched in the rain of blood that had poured down upon him seconds before, Shen Yuan struggled to remember how to move.

Not that he was scared—well, at least not anymore. After the initial shock, he had been quickly saved by his furious husband who had reigned hell and fire down upon the monster.

And it was.. really fucking cool.

“Binghe…” Shen Yuan began, stumbling closer.

At this, Luo Binghe jumped in place, spinning around, the severe look leaving his eyes to be replaced by worry.

“Shizun...this is—I—“

“That was… amazing!” The words burst free from him in giddy wonder as he grinned up at his husband. “You completely annihilated that thing!”

“And you’re…impressed?” Luo Binghe asked, brows connected in confusion. Despite this, a small smile was forming on his lips—as though he couldn’t help it.

It was then that Shen Yuan remembered his ‘positive reinforcement’ plan, though in all honesty, it wasn’t hard to praise his husband.

“Yes! You were so cool! It was—it was awesome, epic, OP as hell!”

Luo Binghe had his head tilted at an angle, much like how a dog tilts its head at a foreign command, but he was definitely smiling now, and his cheeks were flushed beneath the streaks of blood.

And then he laughed—a soft but joyful sound. 

It was beautiful.

And Shen Yuan forgot to breathe.

-----

Shen Yuan had been busy weeding the garden behind their house when he had decided that his next plot to ‘make Luo Binghe happier!’ was to make him dinner.

Luo Binghe was always cooking for him, so why not return the favour?

Which was all well and good, but sometime after this amazing idea occurred to Shen Yuan, he mixed up the basket of herbs with the basket of weeds. And, in his haste to beat Luo Binghe to the kitchen, he hadn’t realized this unfortunate switcheroo until they were at the dinner table and he’d bitten into a mouthful of weeds.

Which is how he found himself loudly pleading next to his husband, trying to pull the weed riddled dish away from Luo Binghe—who was busy stuffing his face as fast as he could.

“Fine!” Shen Yuan gasped eventually, slumping down next to the table in breathless defeat. “Get indigestion for all I care!”

“I will gladly eat whatever Shizun makes,” Luo Binghe said, smiling cheekily, as though Shen Yuan hadn’t been struggling with all his strength to pull the damn bowl from his grip for the last ten minutes.

This—

This brat.

Too tired to maintain his irritation for very long, Shen Yuan forced a sigh, rubbing his brow as he ignored the heat in his cheeks.

At least Luo Binghe seemed happier.

-----

“What was I like before?” Shen Yuan asked as they shopped in the market of the local town. He was shuffling awkwardly behind Luo Binghe, glancing at the various items for sale.

At his questions, Luo Binghe turned around. He had several potatoes in his hands.

“What?”

“What was I like before?” Shen Yuan echoed. “Before the qi deviation, I mean. Was I very different?”

Red eyes watched him for several moments. Then, head tilting as though in thought, Luo Binghe eventually responded with, “Perhaps outwardly? You were…calmer. More confident. At your centre, however, you are much the same.”

And then Luo Binghe turned to barter with the stall owner, leaving Shen Yuan to stare at his broad back, feeling strangely gutted.

Calmer?

More confident?

Fuck, how was he going to compete with calm and confident?

Not that he was jealous.

That would be stupid.

Hah.

Haaaah.

Jealous of himself?

Ridiculous.

He didn’t care.

He didn’t.

-----

“Shizun, your hair is coming undone. Let me—”

“Leave it!” Shen Yuan said, lifting his nose as he brushed aside Binghe’s hand.

“But—”

“I’m owning it.”

And then Shen Yuan pulled his shoulders back and sauntered away.

“...”

-----

Okay, so maybe he was a little jealous of himself.

-----

“Water?”

“Oh, thank y—”

“Are you happy yet?”

Luo Binghe sent him a look. 

Shen Yuan raised his hands. “Just asking.”

Luo Binghe rolled his eyes, popping the cork off the water gourd before leaning his head back to take a drink. Shen Yuan watched the jump in his throat silently, unable to look away. It wasn’t until he heard the pop of the bottle being sealed once more that he was brought back to the present.

“Let me ask you for a change, Shizun,” Luo Binghe said then, turning to face him, eyes dancing in amusement. 

Shit. Shen Yuan knew that smile. Luo Binghe had definitely caught him staring.

“Yes?”

“Are you happy?”

Shen Yuan felt himself falter. “What?”

Luo Binghe’s smile faded somewhat. “Not so easy to answer, is it?” He turned away. “Sometimes I wonder if you were ever happy. I thought so, once. But things changed. I suppose I’m struggling to become someone who can make you happy, even now.”

“What? But you can’t—that’s not—” Shen Yuan grabbed the sleeve of Luo Binghe’s arm. “That’s not any way to live. You can’t force someone to be happy! I mean, yes, you can always support them and help them, but ultimately it’s up to the person in question to fight for their own happiness. And you certainly can’t change yourself in order to—”

He froze.

Luo Binghe blinked placidly at him.

“Oh,” he said. He looked down at his hand on Luo Binghe’s arm. He blinked. He looked up at Luo Binghe. “Wait.”

“Mhm?”

“That’s not—I’m not—”

Luo Binghe smiled then, soft and stunning, and reached over with his free hand to tangle his fingers with Shen Yuan’s.

“Thank you, Shizun,” he murmured in the space between them, his face dangerously close. “Your desire for my happiness fills me with joy.”

“Um,” Shen Yuan squeaked, wide eyes looking up into red.

“But you are correct in saying we all have our own battles to fight. I do not wish mine on you.”

“...Can’t I help?”

“You do,” his husband insisted. Then a spark of mischief brightened his gaze. “Are you saying I don’t help you?”

“Of course you do—”

Shen Yuan was cut off as Luo Binghe leaned closer, closer, closer, until warm lips pressed against his forehead. It wasn’t a long kiss, lasting only a second or two before they parted.

Shen Yuan blinked up in shock.

Luo Binghe smiled.

“...”

“...”

“Lean down,” Shen Yuan blurted suddenly, still staring wide eyed. “Binghe, lean—don’t laugh! It’s my turn and I can’t reach! BINGHE!!”

-----

Shen Yuan realized that he may or may not be growing…fond of his husband.

Look, he couldn't help it, okay?

These things just happened.

Evidently.

Mind you, he wasn’t sure when it happened, or even if there was a set time when it had happened. Maybe it had been a gradual thing? Slow to grow, but deep seated and hard to get rid of.

Like mold.

But it wasn’t like he stood much of a chance.

Luo Binghe was OP as fuck.

He easily wiped out any monster that happened to stray into their yard, and hunted the ones close by for meat without breaking a sweat. He was smart, and witty, and charming? And kind, and caring. 

And he was maybe a bit creepy at times, a bit too clingy at others, but Shen Yuan could never turn him away.

Not when that far off, wary gaze still sometimes returned to his eyes.

-----

As it tended to, time passed.

Weeks went by. Flowers budded, bloomed, fell and drifted away. The weather grew warmer.

During this time, things gradually began to shift between Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe.

They grew closer, they talked more.

They also fought more. Quiet, bickering squabbles. There were also some squabbles that weren’t so quiet, and not so easily fixed. But they got through them, and eventually would come together once again.

They laughed more. They smiled more—real smiles this time.

Things were, surprisingly, going pretty well.

And even if he may never be ready to be a…husband in full, so to speak. What they had was nice how it was. Good, even.

Comfortable.

-----

And then...weirdly enough—suddenly enough—Shen Yuan was ready for...more.

Like. SO ready.

The realization had happened without warning one afternoon, while he had been peeling potatoes for dinner. Their day thus far had been pretty average, nothing particularly exciting or noteworthy having happened—if anything, it was more boring than usual.

But then, as Shen Yuan finished up dicing his first potato, he made the single, devastating mistake of looking up to ask Luo Binghe a question.

And then he froze—whatever thought or question or comment that had been on his mind completely vanishing.

And it was stupid.

It was.

But he couldn’t look away from his husband and the way his stupidly perfect hair was caught between his stupidly perfect lips.

It wasn't even a particularly sexy image. He wasn't dressed up—or dressed down, for that matter—he was wearing perfectly normal, perfectly acceptable clothing. He looked comfortable. He had flour in his hair and on his nose. His hair was a mess. He was smiling. He looked safe and warm and he looked like home.

Shen Yuan swallowed thickly.

What.

His heart pounded loud and fast in his ear.

His lungs lost all air, leaving him gasping.

He felt suddenly over warm and flushed.

He licked his lips.

“Shizun?” Luo Binghe prompted when Shen Yuan continued to stare at him like an idiot.

And Shen Yuan probably should’ve looked away at that point.

But oh, those lips, they were—

Primed for the kissing.

And there he was—

—wanting to kiss that dumb, handsome face so hard.

“…Shizun?”

Wait.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Since when did he—?

And wait...why was his d—?

...FUCK.

“I have to go!!”

Later—after making a fumbling excuse and running away from his husband in red faced horror, after screaming into his pillow for five long minutes, after staring down at his tented pants in horrified confusion—Shen Yuan came to the realization that he was perhaps maybe attracted to his husband.

...It was weird.

But whatever, it wasn't his place to question his sudden desire to kiss his husband, as odd as the concept may seem to him.

…Now that he knew his own stance on the subject, though, he needed to know what Luo Binghe wanted.

But sometime soon he was definitely going to kiss his husband, goddammit! 

(With permission.)

-----

His opportunity came sooner than expected, all things considered. It was the end of the season, just as the rot of autumn was threatening to overtake the lush of summer, several months—over half a year—since Shen Yuan had first woken to Luo Binghe smiling down at him. 

The question came from Shen Yuan’s lips entirely unbidden, spoken in the middle of their bedtime routine, blurted out before he could think to censor himself.

“Can I maybe kiss your mouth?” 

As soon as he said it, he froze, sucking in his lips.

Because really—who the fucking hell said it like that??

Shen Yuan had just finished brushing out Luo Binghe’s hair as he was shown to and was applying a palmful of oil to the ends. The scent of pine that was usually calming to him only proved to tighten the anxious knot in his gut.

Luo Binghe, who had also frozen in place for several seconds, slowly turned.

“Wait,” Shen Yuan said, embarrassed and flustered, fighting the apology on his tongue. “I still need to tie your hair. Binghe—mmf!”

And then Shen Yuan got his kiss.

And…then he got more.

Much more.

-----

….So that escalated quickly, Shen Yuan thought later very night, blinking up at the ceiling as Luo Binghe curled around him tightly, nuzzling into the skin of his collarbone and murmuring soft, sweet nothings into his neck.

First off—Luo Binghe needed a warning label.

…Several warning labels.

For many different reasons.

The biting, the enthusiasm, that weird sucking thing he did in the middle—

THE PILLAR???

“Shall we go again?” Luo Binghe whispered in his ear, leaning close to bite at his ear.

Shen Yuan groaned, covering his flushed cheeks with his arms.

-----

Of course, the…fondness…he felt for his husband—the closeness, the smiles, the touches, the sex—unfortunately brought another issue.

Or, rather, it made a pre-existing issue worse.

See, Shen Yuan wasn’t an idiot—at least not most of the time. Even if he hadn’t already confirmed with Luo Binghe the nature of his calm and confident other husband, he would’ve been able to guess they were different.

Shen Yuan was clumsy, he was messy, he didn’t overly care about how neat his hair was or the correct fall of his clothes. 

And, even now, even after everything, when he was clumsy or messy Luo Binghe would give him a look.

A look of confusion.

A look of sad, longing, confusion.

After all...

Luo Binghe never had said that he was happy.

And this knowledge festered like a poison in Shen Yuan's mind.

-----

Fragrant tea flowed from the spout of the black pot in a single, unmarred stream. Shen Yuan, cheek balanced on his palm, waited until his cup was almost full before setting aside the pot.

Feeling strangely weary, he sighed, closing his eyes.

What he wouldn’t give for a fucking cup of coffee.

After several increasingly stilted responses, he had stopped asking Luo Binghe whether or not he was happy. The question only ever made things worse, made Luo Binghe more agitated, more defensive.

And, if he was being honest, the continued lack of a definitive answer only ever made Shen Yuan more depressed.

But the thought was almost constantly on his mind lately.

Was Luo Binghe happy?

Truly happy?

Or…Shen Yuan supposed the more accurate question would be to ask: was Luo Binghe happy with Shen Yuan.

It certainly seemed like it most of the time. They laughed, they joked, they bickered. 

But…there were times that Shen Yuan wondered if maybe this wasn’t always the case.

That maybe he was second best after all.

Who was it Luo Binghe really wanted to cling to in the darkness of night? Who did he truly want to kiss and hold and love so deeply that Shen Yuan ached from the fond desperation of it all.

Was it Shen Yuan?

Or was it Luo Binghe’s real husband?

And really, did he even have a right to say anything if that was the case?

If he did truly transmigrate into this world, which he had begun to suspect more and more was the case, then he was just an imposter. 

What right did he have to be upset?

Should he just be happy with second place after all?

Was that all he was ever going to be?

Should he—?

“Why aren’t you using the fan I bought you?”

“What?” Shen Yuan blinked, jerking from his musings. He was seated at his table, a cup of cooled tea held half way up to his lips. He looked down at the tea, then up to Binghe who stared down at him from a short distance away, then back down to the tea.

Shaking his head, he lowered the cup to the table.

“The fan I bought you,” Luo Binghe echoed, sounding strangely agitated. “You’re not using it.”

Shen Yuan blinked at him once more, frowning. “So? Why are you snipping at me over it? Binghe, you get me hundreds of things. How am I supposed to use them all?”

Luo Binghe didn’t speak. A muscle in his cheek jumped as clenched his teeth.

And then it clicked.

“Did I use one before?” Shen Yuan asked carefully, throat suddenly dry.

Luo Binghe looked away. “It’s not like that—“

“So that’s a yes then.”

“It’s not what you’re thinking!”

“What I’m thinking?” Shen Yuan repeated. “Tell me what I think, Binghe. Please.”

“I just thought you would feel more comfortable with it. You used to—“

“And what? Because I suddenly don’t want to use it you’re angry at me?”

A sigh. “I’m not angry.”

“It certainly sounds like you are.”

“Shizun—“ Luo Binghe stopped himself, then rubbed at his face tiredly. “No. You’re right as always, Shizun. Can we drop this matter? I apologize for bringing it up. Please don’t be upset with me, you know I can’t take it.”

“No, we can’t just—“

What right did he have to be upset?

Shen Yuan bit his lip, halting his sentence as the mutinous thought re-entered his mind. Then, carefully, he forced himself to sigh.

He returned his gaze to his husband’s. “Only if you make congee tonight. And I’m not helping.”

Luo Binghe’s lips twitched. “Of course, Shizun.”

Shizun.

Shizun.

Shizun.

Shen Yuan closed his eyes and dropped his head down onto the table with a thud.

“Ow.”

-----

It was as they lay there quietly—after the setting of the sun, before the true fall of night, as the crickets sang and the moon fought to rise to its crest, when nothing but blue dared fill the room and the space between them—that the doubt filled and clouded his mind.

Shen Yuan breathed through the sudden weight of his thoughts, the ache in his chest, emotions that coiled and burned inside him.

And, as though unable to help himself, Shen Yuan looked beside him.

At Luo Binghe.

His…husband.

And suddenly he couldn’t breathe. 

His feelings weren't new.

This ache wasn't new.

Even in the beginning—even in those moments when he'd known nothing—he'd known the fondness, the connection, the vulnerability that they shared between them.

But...now there was something else. Something fragile. Something new.

Something fresh and innocent and raw.

And…

And he didn’t yet trust Luo Binghe with it.

Not yet.

A shaky breath past his lips as he curled his fingers into fists. They itched to crawl over the cooling, thin sheets of their bed to rip and tear at the separation there until it was gone and there was nothing between them but skin and lips and teeth and yearning and promises unspoken and…and… and—

Shen Yuan squeezed his eyes shut until his eyelids ached, then blinked them open a beat later.

As he did, he caught sight of the purple pink mottled bruises that trailed a line down the nape of Luo Binghe’s neck. 

And oh, how he wanted to kiss them, to taste the saltiness of his skin. He wanted to write fucking meta essays on the perfections, the imperfections of the man beside him. He wanted to soothe the bites and bruises, drag his teeth along the bones of his nape, the curve of his neck and shoulder. 

His skin, like Shen Yuan’s, would have cooled by now—but he remembered the heat of it beneath his fingers, the softness, the hardness. 

He ached with the memory, with the longing.

It left him breathless.

Fuck.

Fuck.

He wanted…

He wanted.

But.

But.

Was he even his to want?

His eyes closed for a moment. 

He breathed.

The itch—the yearning—refused to go away.

When his eyes opened, he looked to the window, to the blue light that permeated the room. 

In the blue he saw possibilities, dangerous and wonderful, that made him wish and desire and hope. These feelings arose from the darkest parts of his heart, his soul, his lungs, his everything and the whole of it fought to burst free from his chest.

The intensity of it all terrified him.

There was a rattling that came from somewhere outside, perhaps an animal, perhaps the wind.

A bird cried in the distance.

The wind drifted through the leaves, leaving whispers of its presence. 

It was evidence of life beyond their room, beyond their bed.

Beyond them.

Shen Yuan quickly lost interest, and the sounds soon faded from his awareness.

His eyes fell closed once more, pinching shut.

His heart ached in his chest.

It made it difficult to breathe.

There was a fear still, deep within him, one that had long since carved a place for itself in the base of his chest, one that had grown roots and infected every thought with the stain of doubt. It was not easily removed, not even with the painfully perfect memory of smiling eyes, a wrinkled nose, flushed cheeks and promises of yes, yes, yes.

It didn’t seem real.

“Awake again?” Luo Binghe murmured from his side of the bed.

“Oh. Did I wake you up?”

The words he actually wanted to say bubbled up and died at the back of his throat. He would say it all if he could, he would scream it if only to convey the weight of what he feels. Because it was a massive thing in his chest, jumbled and confusing but honest and real and overwhelming and it killed him that he couldn’t simply spew out the correct words in the correct order to accurately convey his feelings.

But they jumbled on his tongue every time he tried.

And ‘I like you’ seemed…inaccurate.

Insufficient.

What he felt swelled in him like fast growing thorns, curling and lethal and beautiful, filling his lungs until he was choking from it all.

It was too much at times.

It was not enough at others.

He didn’t say this.

Instead, he whispered, “You should go back to sleep.”

Luo Binghe hummed tiredly at him, his red eyes watchful in the blue light. After several moments of this, he smiled. It was a patient, indulgent, fond sort of expression. And it ruined Shen Yuan.

“Hm. How can I sleep when you’re thinking so loudly?”

Shen Yuan was not good with words. He never had been. But the things he wanted to say to Luo Binghe were like a tidal wave in his mind, jumbled and confusing and massive as they swelled in his throat and overwhelmed him with their desire for release. 

He imagined he might whisper them softly if he was able, scream them if he could, speak the entirety of everything he meant to say, everything he was, with the proficiency they require without fumbling or losing his thought.

Instead, he said the worst thing he possibly could.

“...Am I enough for you?” 

As soon as he said it, he knew he shouldn’t have.

He knew.

But then…how long had he held onto this doubt?

This jealousy?

Luo Binghe went still for a moment, then carefully pushed himself up to better look at Shen Yuan. His dark brows were furrowed tightly together. “What did you just say?”

Shen Yuan swallowed past the knot in his throat and forced himself to break the stretching silence.

“Nevermind. I didn’t—I wasn’t thinking.”

“It sounds like you're thinking too much.”

“It’s just that,” Shen Yuan began, teeth gritting, fingers curling into a fist. “I’m not him.”

“Not who?”

Shen Yuan scoffed. “Who do you think?” 

“Shizun—”

“Don’t call me that,” Shen Yuan snapped. Then he squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the unwelcome tears that had begun to gather and spill. He sniffed loudly, miserable. “Don’t…that’s not me.”

“Shen…Yuan.”

“You even have trouble saying it,” he said, quickly wiping his cheek with his shoulder. “You’re not happy with me. How can you be?”

Luo Binghe’s clawed hands dug into the mattress, piercing through the sheets.

“We’ve talked about this,” he said slowly. “You can’t control someone's emotions.”

“How can you say that? When I know that if he was here you would be happy.”

“Shen Yuan, you’re acting as though you’re two people. You’re not.”

“Well, what if it’s true?” he said, licking his lips, tasting the salt. “What if I’m actually not your shizun, Binghe? What if I’m some imposter?”

“What are you saying?” Luo Binghe asked in a tone that was eerily quiet, eerily calm. 

Shen Yuan looked up.

Luo Binghe was glaring at him from glowing red eyes, almost as bright as the demon mark on his forehead. He didn’t bother to wipe away the tears that ran rivers down his cheeks, sliding down over the jumping muscle in his jaw as he clenched his bared teeth. 

“What are you saying?”

“I—” Shen Yuan stopped, closing his mouth. His eyes roved over Luo Binghe’s face, darting between both his eyes.

What was he saying?

That he shouldn’t be here?

That he was someone else?

…Would Luo Binghe make him leave?

But what he really wanted to ask, what he can’t force himself to say was—

The hands caging his own tightened, the nails digging half moons into his wrists. The sting pushed the words from his lips.

“If you could trade me for him, would you do it?”

It was Luo Binghe’s turn to falter.

And fuck if that didn’t hurt like a bitch.

“Shen—”

“LUO BINGHE!!”

Shen Yuan jolted at the thunderous shout that came from outside their home, his head swiveling towards the window. He couldn’t see much, however, as the shutters were drawn.

“What was that?” he breathed, blinking through his tears. 

Then he made the mistake of turning back to Luo Binghe.

And then Shen Yuan froze.

He’d thought he’d seen Luo Binghe angry, but that was nothing compared to the rage that marred his face now, twisting his expression into something terrifying.

Something cruel. 

Wild eyed and shaking, Luo Binghe silently seethed as he glared down at Shen Yuan—and oh, how that gaze burned—his chest physically heaving with the force of his upset. And yet, like everything else about him, the ugliness that was his anger was somehow still inexplicably beautiful, in a painful, devastating sort of way.  

The demon mark was glowing.

“You’re not leaving,” his husband hissed, grabbing hold of Shen Yuan’s wrist painfully.

There was a loud crash from outside, followed by several subsequent clatters. Shen Yuan flinched at the sounds, but he couldn’t pull himself away from the red of those eyes.

“Binghe—”

“I won’t let anyone keep you from me. Not them. And not you. You left me once. You don’t get to do it again. Whatever poison has clouded your mind we will deal with after. This is not over, Shen Yuan. We will never be over.”

“What—?” Shen Yuan sputtered, tugging at his hands uselessly, wincing when the grip on them tightened further. “Binghe, what are you talking about? Who is outside?”

“No one important,” Luo Binghe said, casting a severe glance towards the window before turning a warning stare to Shen Yuan.  “Stay here.”

And then Luo Binghe rose to his feet and swept from the room with all the menacing aura of a warlord in his peak.

And, once his legs stopped acting like noodles, Shen Yuan scrambled up to follow.

-----

As he burst through the front door, having paused only to hastily stuff his feet into his boots, Shen Yuan frantically scanned the yard for his husband, pulling strands of his loose hair away from his face and out of his mouth.

He didn’t have to search long—two men stood in the grassy field leading up to their home, postures stiff, swords at the ready.

“Binghe!” Shen Yuan cried, moving to rush forward.

“Stop! Don’t come closer,” Luo Binghe shouted back, causing Shen Yuan to halt in place. “Get back inside!”

He wasn’t facing Shen Yuan, and he didn’t bother to turn back as he gave his order—too focused on the man who was his opponent.

“Shen Qingqiu!” the man in question suddenly shouted, startling Shen Yuan. He was looking at him—glaring at him, actually—and if he wasn’t so used to his own husband’s good looks, Shen Yuan might’ve been shocked by how handsome the man was. “Are you unharmed?”

Shen Yuan faltered. “Wh-what?” 

“Don’t talk to him,” Luo Binghe spat, moving to step in front of the other man, who had begun to march towards Shen Yuan. The man snarled in response, raising his sword.

“Bing—!”

“BRO!”

Shen Yuan jumped at the shrill scream that sounded next to his year, then flinched as he was grabbed by a set of strong, clammy hands.

“What the f—”

“BRO, YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW GOOD IT IS TO SEE YOUR SNIVELING SCUMMY FACE! You just self-destructed and I thought you were going to die for sure, but you didn’t and then Luo Binghe just fucking grabbed you and took off running! Holy shit, bro, we’ve been looking for nearly a year! No offence but I thought he must’ve had you pickled by now.” 

The words, Shen Yuan realized after several moments of bewildered confusion, came from an individual resembling a wide eyed hamster who was currently blubbering loudly next to him.

“Let go!” Shen Yuan muttered, wiggling fruitlessly in the surprisingly resilient grip. “Who even are you?”

The hamster man froze. A beat later he snatched up Shen Yuan’s face into his sweaty palms and glared into his face, his dark eyes darting between both of Shen Yuan’s.

Then—

“Oh. Fuck, ” he said, horrified. “No wonder.”

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!”

Shen Yuan turned to find Luo Binghe launching himself towards them with a furious expression on his face. Before he could get close, he was blocked by his opponent. Luo Binghe snarled in response.

Hamster-man pulled Shen Yuan aside, once more capturing his attention.

“Okay. Cool, cool, cool. This is fine. Hhhhhh—”

Shen Yuan wrinkled his nose. “Are you going to throw up? Because if you are, please do it somewhere else. Away from me.”

Hamster let out a wheezing laugh. “Oh, man. I think I actually missed your shitty attitude. How wild is that?”

“You—”

“You lost your memory, right?”

Shen Yuan blinked. “Yes. How did you—?” He shot a glance at Luo Binghe. “...Do you know me?” 

“Of course! We’re best bros!!—Hey now, don’t make that face. You’re gonna hurt my feelings.”

Shen Yuan’s face twisted even further.

Hamster rolled his eyes. “While I could go on to describe all the bromantic broscapades we’ve been through together, we really need to speed this along because my son is not going to hold his punches for long.”

“You’re. What.”

“Haaah.” The stranger cleared his throat. “I need you to access your system. You probably muted it, you were always talking about how annoying it was.”

“System?” Shen Yuan blinked. “Wait, does that mean I did transmigrate? And…I’m guessing you did too?”

“Obvs, bro.”

“Shut up, you look like a hamster.”

“HOW IS THAT RELEVANT?”

Shen Yuan ignored him, holding his head as he tried to process his situation.

He transmigrated.

He was supposed to have a system, like hamster-bro.

So then…was he already in this body before he married Luo Binghe? But then why—

“Cucumber-bro, we really don’t have time!”

“Okay, okay,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut. “Wait, what the fuck did you call me—?”

“BRO!”

“Okay! Shit! Okay! What do I do?”

“Just think it! Hurry!”

“Think what!?”

“UNMUTE.”

Shen Yuan sighed, then closed his eyes, brows furrowing as he ignored hasmter-bro muttering about ‘drama queen’s.

System unmute.

**System successfully unmuted!**

**Welcome back!**

**System has completed rebooting. Approve installation of update?**

In his mind three options sprung up, glowing in faint green boxes. 

Yes!

No!

Ask me later tonight~!

Shen Yuan felt his eye twitch.

“What’s it saying?”

Shen Yuan tried to shrug off the fingers pawing at his sleeve instantly. “Stop clawing my arm, already! You have hamster hands.”

“What does that even mean!?”

“What do you think!?”

“...We are going to have words after this.”

Shen Yuan rolled his eyes. “It’s saying there’s an update. What do I do?”

“...You’re the type to never check for updates, aren’t you? SAY YES TO THE UPDATE.”

Breathing through his nose, Shen Yuan cast one last glance at Binghe before mentally pressing the ‘yes’ option.

**Option ‘yes!’ selected**

**Please wait as we finish installing your update**

Numbers flashed in his vision, counting up from 0%.

“Will this bring my memory back?” Shen Yuan asked, feeling suddenly nauseous as he looked away from the rising number towards hamster-bro.

Hamster-bro cast a nervous glance at the two men still fighting. “Yes, it should. Pretty sure. Well. Like 90%. At least.”

** 34% **

** 35% **

Shen Yuan curled his hands into fists to stop their trembling, swallowing thickly around the knot in his throat as panic rose, thick in his chest. He looked towards BInghe.

“What if…what if I don’t like what I remember?” he asked. His eyes felt suddenly hot, his vision blurred. “What then?”

If you could trade me for him, would you do it?

He squeezed his eyes shut.

A tear escaped, spilling down his skin.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

** 70% **

** 71% **

** 72% **

As he watched the numbers on his mental screen steadily rise, he suddenly felt strangely numb.

Maybe this was for the best.

Didn’t he want to know?

Didn’t he want his memory back?

And, after all—

This way Luo Binghe would get his real husband back.

“Cucumber-bro, what—”

“Shen Qingqiu!”

“SHEN YUAN!”

** 98% **

** 99% **

** 100% **

** Thank you for your patience! **

** Installation complete **

At first he felt no different, and for a moment he thought hamster-bro was full of shit after all, or maybe his system was just faulty.

But then.

But then he remembered.

He remembered everything.

Once it happened, it was instant, a rapid flushing into his mind that left him dizzy with the force of it. His eyes squeezed shut as he gasped, holding his head and nearly falling to the ground as he stumbled.

“Bro!”

Shen Qingqiu’s eyes flew open.

His chest heaved as he ignored the wails coming from airplane-bro.

Mother.

Fucking.

WIFE PLOT.

…HUSBAND PLOT.

WHATEVER.

FUCK.

Oh god.

Oh fuck.

He’d called him fit.

And then he’d—

And then they’d—

“I’m going to kill you,” Shen Qingqiu seethed quietly to Shang Qinghua. “I’m going to throw up. And then I’m going to kill you……And then maybe myself. Mother fucker.”

“...Yeah, that’s fair.”

When he was completely certain he wasn’t going to hurl all over the grass, Shen Qingqiu forced himself to look up at Luo Binghe.

At the man he’d taught.

At the man he’d pushed into the abyss.

At the man he’d nearly died for.

Luo Binghe lifted his head at the same time, wide red eyes frenzied with adrenaline from his fight.

And, as he watched, Shen Qingqiu saw the change in those eyes as realization dawned.

At first, he looked shocked, frozen in place. Then, devastation took over as his expression crumbled.

And then…and then he looked furious.

Twisting back around in time to block an attack from Liu Qingge, Luo Binghe returned the assault with twice the relentless fervor of before, shouting in rage as he slammed his sword down against Cheng Luan.

Liu Qingge staggered back, snarling, only to falter again as the next attack came, faster than the last.

“Bro…!”

“Yeah, I know,” Shen Qingqiu said, already rushing forward.

Luo Binghe continued to hammer his weapon down onto Liu Qingge furiously, who in turn could only do his best to block each incoming blow.

Just when Liu Qingge seemed unable to handle much further, Shen Qingqiu stepped in between them.

“Stop this!” he cried. “Both of you!”

Luo Binghe immediately froze in place, his weapon still raised. Then, a breath later, his eyes moved from Liu Qingge to Shen Qingqiu.

For several moments they only watched one another—Shen Qingqiu frozen in place, Luo Binghe’s chest heaving from his fight, eyes lit with some kind of nameless emotion.

And then something changed in Luo Binghe’s expression—something cracked—but before Shen Qingqiu could identify the change, Luo Binghe looked down, his shoulders falling as the sword in his hand dropped uselessly to his feet.

And then he fell to his knees, slumping down in defeat.

Shen Qingqiu swallowed thickly past the ache in his throat, squeezing his hands into fists at the sight before him. Then, shakily, he forced himself to sigh.

In the end, he hadn’t changed much.

Still as sticky as ever.

With careful steps, Shen Qingqiu approached Luo Binghe.

“Binghe.”

Nothing.

Another sigh.

Shen Qingqiu turned to Liu Qingge, who was also breathing heavily, wiping his forehead as he glared down at Luo Binghe.

“Apologies, Liu-shidi. Do you mind?”

Liu Qingge cast him a glance. “Will you be alright?”

Shen Qingqiu inclined his head, offering a smile. “Yes, I’ll be fine.”

Liu Qingge grumbled, but ultimately nodded. Before leaving, however, he reached to the fabric around his waist and pulled out a familiar fan.

“Don’t lose it again,” he grumbled, tossing over the fan. He shot one last warning look at Luo Binghe before sauntering off to give them some privacy.

Shen Qingqiu watched Liu Qingge leave, fingers playing with the tassels on the ornate fan. He was happy to have it back—now that he knew it was something he even missed.

But now was not the time for hiding.

Before he’d died—the first time, that is—he had liked to think of himself as the perfect loner.

Not that he hadn’t had any friends, mind you. He did have them. But he’d be lying if he said that those friendships were in any way significant.

And his parents, though kind, were more the type to throw money than love at a problem.

Which was fine.

More than fine.

Loneliness, he found, was familiar.

Loneliness was safe.

You couldn’t lose what you didn’t have.

And, as sad as that may sound, it was a comfort to him.

He had his web novels, his shows, his obsessions—larger than life characters that made him forget the world he lived in. Made him forget what he didn’t have as he instead stepped into a life that wasn’t his own for hours and hours, losing himself in the magic of it all from a safe, careful distance.

They couldn’t hurt him.

And for the most part he was fine with the life he lived.

Content even.

And if it wasn’t for those sad, strange, lucid moments in the darkness of night, uninhibited by the blue light of his computer screen, he might have fooled himself into believing he was truly happy.

Those moments aside, he could have almost believed his bullshit.

…Sometimes he wished he could go back there.

Back before he had people to lose.

In the end, it was only after he’d transmigrated, after he’d found people and relationships that he’d actually found real happiness. 

But, even then, at the back of his mind he was always aware of the fact that those relationships weren’t really his. His role was steeped in lies, filled till the brim to the point he felt like drowning from them all.

And then whatever happiness he’d found, however false it felt, had been torn from him with the opening of the Abyss. The guilt—ever consuming, gnawing —was like a rot in his gut. It ate away at him, devouring any happiness he’d found since.

And then he found Luo Binghe again, years too early.

And then his memory was taken.

And honestly?

To live without the lies had been liberating.

Freeing.

And now, once more with the lies hanging above his head, he realized perhaps a change was in order. He couldn’t reveal everything, but perhaps he needed to say some truths.

Securing the fan to his waist, Shen Qingqiu turned around to look at the man that he seemed to gravitate towards in every lifetime.

At Luo Binghe.

It was odd, this thing between them.

Cracked, perhaps. 

Undone.

But not broken.

Luo Binghe had yet to move.

Opening his mouth to speak, Shen Qingqiu found himself suddenly at a loss for words. After all, what do you even say in such a situation as theirs? 

What could you say? 

Closing his mouth and clearing his throat quietly, Shen Qingqiu took one final step closer before dropping down to his knees beside Luo Binghe.

For a time, they sat in silence.

In the distance, the murmurs of the low others could be heard.

The wind blew against the leaves.

The birds called.

“Can I ask you something?” Luo Binghe spoke then, disturbing the lull between them. 

“Yes.”

“Were you happy?”

“Were you?” Shen Qingqiu countered immediately.

Luo Binghe didn’t bother to wipe the tears from his eyes as he looked up from his lap, staring somberly into the distance.

“I wanted to be,” he said. “And I think I was, for the most part. But the guilt of it all kept me up at night. The fact that I had deceived you—that I was someone else in your eyes. The lies, the pretending—it tore at me.” 

He finally turned to face Shen Qingqiu. 

“Did your lies also tear at you?”

Shen Qingqiu froze, staring back with wide eyes. “What?”

Luo Binghe smiled weakly. “Is it Shen Yuan or Shen Qinggiu?”

So shocked by the question, Shen Qingqiu spoke before he could think. “Both…I suppose. At least now.”

Luo Binghe nodded, looking back at the house as he sighed. “It was interesting getting to know the you that is Shen Yuan. At first I thought you were someone else entirely—but there were parts of you that were too similar to ignore. I know you believed my unhappiness was your fault—that I somehow blamed you for not being the same as before. But that was never the case. Learning this new side of your character was an honour, Shizun. Shen Yuan. Truly, I couldn’t love this part of you any less. I'm only sorry to have caused you pain.”

A sniff.

A sigh.

A laugh—wet, shaky, weak.

“I suppose now is as good a time as any for it all to fall apart.”

“...Always so dramatic,” Shen Qingqiu mused, feeling rather watery eyed himself as he watched Luo Binghe with something close to exasperated amusement.

“Shizun?”

Shen Qingqiu pulled out his fan and gently smacked the crown of Luo Binghe’s head. Ignoring the subsequent flinch and look of bewildered confusion, he had to fight the urge to open the fan to hide the rising flush on his cheeks.

“I was happy.”

“What?”

“I was happy. With you.”

“You…you were?”

“Yes. Well. Before I got all in my head with jealousy.”

“....You were j—?”

“The point is I was happy. Really, Binghe, stay on topic.”

Luo Binghe just stared, slack-jawed, wide eyed.

Shen Qingqiu felt himself smile as he watched the realization—a different kind this time—dawn on the young man’s face. 

Then, slowly, he moved closer to Luo Binghe, until their knees brushed on the grass below. With hands that trembled with the force of his nerves, Shen Qingqiu reached over to cup Lup Binghe’s face.

Wide red eyes stared back at him.

“...We’ll start slow this time, yes?”

“Shiz—? Mmmf!”

The kiss was soft, sweet, with too much teeth, and far too much enthusiasm once Luo Binghe realized what was happening.

But it was also full of promise.

Full of hope.

Full of happiness.

And when Shen Qinqqiu finally pulled away, lips numb and tingly, red faced, breathing laboured, he reached up and smacked Luo Binghe three more times on the head.

“Ow! Shiz—? Ow!”

“THAT’S FOR KIDNAPPING ME!”