Chapter Text
Shen Yuan is the third child of a rich family, hatched into a nest of wealth. The youngest of three, he'd always existed in a world cushioned by privilege. His older sister, a woman of relentless ambition, had gladly shouldered the weight of the family's expectations, leaving him to float through life on a cloud of privilege. Despite his carefree existence, the pull of societal norms found him applying to university. Not because he particularly yearned for academia, but because it was the expected trajectory.
Now, don't get him wrong, he's not a lazy slob, but his passions are as elusive as morning mist. There's a certain charm to aimlessness, a languid luxury in having no pressing obligations. He could sketch with a talent that hinted at a promising artistic career, but the thought of turning it into a profession felt like donning a straitjacket. He liked video games, but the harsh reality of the streaming world, a cutthroat jungle of personalities and algorithms, was a daunting prospect. Besides, Shen Yuan didn't consider himself interesting enough to garner an audience that wasn't made up entirely of his sisters and his mom. And let's not forget his colorful vocabulary, a verbal arsenal that would make a sailor blush, a trait hardly conducive to family-friendly sponsorships. Sleep, while undeniably appealing, is not a viable income stream.
So, that left him with one option. Shen Yuan turned to fulfill his old dream of becoming a novelist. A grand architect of fantastical realms, a weaver of epic tales. Granted, most of his experience consisted of him spending the majority of middle and high school holed up in his room in the dark writing fanfiction with a fervor usually reserved for religious zealots, but those are past times and we're not going to talk about that.
Armed with delusions of grandeur, Shen Yuan embarked on his new life. Off he went to live on his own in the big city, moving into a cramped studio apartment he very honorably purchased with his own money (okay, maybe his sister had to spot him a bit). There was just one problem.
Here's the problem: anyone who writes, whether it be for fun or as a job, the truth is undeniable: writing is REALLY F$@&ING HARD!!
The final year of university loomed. Shen Yuan’s task was simple: finish a novel and submit it to a publishing house. Piece of cake, right? WRONG! The universe, in its cruelest jest, conspired against him. Of course the one time he decides to do something productive for once in his life, writers block has to come biting him in the ass!
He can't decide on a plot at all! He’d start to write something, furiously work on it nonstop for two weeks, only to realize later that it was garbage and belonged in a shredder. Those poor trees that had to be sacrificed to make that precious paper that Shen Yuan wrote all of his horrendous ideas in.
In a moment of clarity that was long overdue, he realized the absurdity of his paper addiction. His laptop, that sleek, modern marvel, sat mockingly on his desk, offering a sanctuary from the tyranny of papercuts.
Envy gnawed at his insides as he watched countless authors, their works barely removed from the realm of fanfiction, ascend to literary stardom. Some writers get famous so easily that it makes Shen Yuan want to rip the hair off of his head. How come Twilight and One Direction fanfiction got more traction than his meticulously crafted worlds, layered with lore, moral ambiguity, and a truly genius level of foreshadowing?
Now, he has nothing against Fifty Shades of Gray or After, it’s just that he has his opinions, and his opinion is that they both suck. These were the books getting multi-million dollar deals and movie adaptations?! Meanwhile, his own carefully woven masterpieces were being ghosted by publishers.
Shen Yuan doesn't begrudge their success; he simply questions the fundamental laws of the universe. But can you blame him? His rejection emails come in so fast they practically auto-loaded the second he hit "send." He doesn't even get the dignity of a form letter anymore!
But worst of all.
Oh, worst of all…
Don’t even get him STARTED on THAT novel.
THAT novel being Proud Immortal Demon Way by Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky.
The mere mention of the title is enough to send him into a frothing rage. That book, if it could even be called that, broke him. Irrevocably.
Boy, does he have a lot of opinions on that monstrosity...
@Peerless_Cucumber: This novel is the worst thing I’ve ever had the displeasure of laying my eyes on. Not only is the story atrociously underwhelming, but it was also apparently written by someone who barely even knows how to read and write! Who knew there were so many synonyms for the word “said”?! Just use “said”, goddamnit! The writing itself is a crime against humanity: poorly written characters, wacky storyline, too many names to remember… everything was wrong! Half the cast died before I could even figure out who they were, and the other half blended together like a sad man soup. Over half of the novel is nothing but unnecessary filler! It's as if the author had a word count quota and decided to meet it by writing about the protagonist’s toenail clippings! Worst of all, the things that were actually relatively interesting in the story were just barely touched upon and never mentioned ever again at any point. LMY, LQY, and LQG were the only somewhat interesting characters and two of those died right away and the other became so ridiculously OOC that I almost threw up on my computer. Don’t waste your time. Literally go read fucking Fifty Shades of Gray over this shit. Stupid author, stupid novel!
@toenail: @Peerless_Cucumber bro literally who tf asked
@moistcracker4839: @toenail this is a review site retard
@goodmilkgonebad: @moistcracker4839 r/whooooosh
@sarcasticfish: @Peerless_Cucumber if you’re so salty then why’d u read it lol
@kaylaeeee: @sarcasticfish watch this dude say he read it for the plot
@puzzydestroyer734: @Peerless_Cucumber whats up with youre username
@Common_Mispellings_Bot: Hey, @puzzydestroyer734 ! Just a quick heads-up: “youre” is spelled as “your”. You can remember it by getting rid of the “e” at the end!
@puzzydestroyer734: hey, @Common_Mispellings_Bot. Just a quick heads-up: how about you go fuck yourself?
@spookymcspook: @puzzydestroyer734 HELPP
@huahua007: @Peerless_Cucumber you say it was terrible, yet you read the whole thing, so…
@goosetopher: @huahua007 ikr, like it's not that deep
@Stickers On A Laptop: @Peerless_Cucumber just let people read what they want, man. Like okay we get it, you didn’t like the novel, good for you ig. But why go through the trouble of writing the entire declaration of independence in the review section of a novel that you claimed you couldn’t be bothered to waste your breath on?
@halfbaked_ideas: cucumber bro is probably secretly gay for LBH
@thefakeslimshady: @halfbaked_ideas why do i kinda ship it tho
@fervencyinmyarteries : @halfbaked_ideas cucumber bro x LBH enemies to lovers??
@halfbaked_ideas: @thefakeslimshady @fervencyinmyarteries yall dont do this i haven’t finished my other WIPs yet
Shen Yuan fumed at his computer. His face was so red that he looked like he was about to rupture a blood vessel or go into cardiac arrest. Maybe both. Shen Yuan is a man of conviction. Or at least, he thought he was. He'd always believed in the sanctity of free speech, particularly the freedom to voice one's unfiltered opinion on the internet. But as the final sentence of his critique materialized on the screen, his computer erupted in a frenzy of digital chaos. The monitor flickered and died, replaced by a blinding white light. Then, with a force that could have rivaled a demonic possession, a tornado materialized in the heart of Shen Yuan's humble abode.
Shen Yuan himself was unceremoniously deposited onto the floor, his dignity as swiftly dismantled as his apartment. Amidst the chaos, a single book lay open in the center, its cover gleaming with an otherworldly light. The title, emblazoned in gold, mocked Shen Yuan's misfortune: Proud Immortal Demon Way by Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky; a cruel irony, if ever there was one.
Shen Yuan stared at the book, a single phrase escaped his lips, a perfect summation of his current predicament: "Oh, fuck my life."
The book, as if possessed, opened with a snap, its pages fluttering like frantic wings. A blinding light erupted, casting eerie shadows that danced and writhed across Shen Yuan's bedroom walls. A tempestuous wind howled through the room, whipping at his hair and tossing objects about in a chaotic frenzy. The floor beneath him trembled, a low, menacing rumble that seemed to emanate from the very depths of the earth. But then, as abruptly as it had begun, the chaos ceased.
A suffocating silence descended upon the room, broken only by the rapid thumping of his heart. His eyes were fixed on the spot where the book had lain. But in its place stood a man—tall and cloaked in an aura of darkness. His face was turned away, but Shen Yuan could feel the sheer intensity of his presence.
The young man seemed to notice that he was in a strange place and began looking around. The man slowly turned, and as soon as their gazes collided, a blood-curdling scream erupted from Shen Yuan's throat.
“AHHHHHHHHHH!"
“W-wait! I’m not going to hurt you!"
Shen Yuan didn’t hear words. He heard “I'm going to murder you and I'm going to wear your skin like Buffalo fucking Bill.” He jumped to his feet, still screaming like a little girl, and huddled in the corner of his room, as far away as possible from the stranger.
"STAY AWAY FROM ME!" he shrieked, his voice high-pitched and hysterical.
The stranger, caught off guard by Shen Yuan's reaction, raised his hands in a futile attempt at pacification. "Please!" he stammered, his voice laced with panic. "I won't hurt you!"
But Shen Yuan was beyond reason. The stranger's face was a mask of concern as he watched Shen Yuan's escalating panic. With cautious steps, he inched forward, bu Shen Yuan was already in survival mode. He lunged for the baseball bat under his bed; a flimsy shield he kept in case of intruders.
"STAY BACK!" he roared, the bat held high like a primitive club. "I HAVE A WEAPON AND I'M NOT AFRAID TO USE IT!"
“Wait, wait, wait! I-I’m not trying to hurt you! I’ll- I’ll do whatever you want! Just—can you put that down first?”
Shen Yuan's grip tightened on the bat. Another step from the stranger, and he would swing. "Don't come any closer!"
The stranger tried to take another step and Shen Yuan immediately lifted the bat over his shoulder, ready to swing in case the young man tried to take a step closer. “I'm serious! One more step and I'll send you into orbit!"
“Wha… I’m sorry, gege, but I can’t understand you. If you would only stop screaming and put that down, we can talk abou–”
Shen Yuan swung and the stranger stood, mostly unfazed, if slightly confused. Not only did the guy not even flinch, he also managed to grab the bat before Shen Yuan could strike him. When Shen Yuan tried to pry it away, he was met with a truly astonishing amount of strength holding it in place. Then the bat was snatched out of his hands and was promptly broken in half with one hand!
Shen Yuan stared in disbelief. “What the FUCK–”
Before he could flee or cry or scream (or all three at the same time), the stranger reached out with alarming calm and gently pressed his palm to Shen Yuan’s chest, and the world went dark!
・・・・・
A warm, fuzzy sensation enveloped Shen Yuan as he drifted back to consciousness. Stretching languidly, he opened his eyes to the familiar sight of his living room. A contented sigh escaped his lips. It had been nothing but a dream, after all.
What a relief! That was the most realistic dream he had ever had in his life. He couldn’t wait to tell his friends about this. Oh, yes, he could already see the looks on their faces: “Hey guys, guess what? I had this dream last night where I posted a bad review on a novel forum website and somehow summoned spme dude out of the book and I screamed like a little bitch and tried to assault him with a baseball bat.” The human mind was truly an astonishing organ.
Just as he was starting to recover from the weird dream he'd had, Shen Yuan sat up on the couch and realized that arms were pinned behind his back, bound tight.
Well... that's not good.
His gaze darted across the room, landing on a figure cloaked in darkness. The stranger stood motionless, their eyes curiously fixed on Shen Yuan with a chilling intensity. A shriek was poised on Shen Yuan’s lips when the intruder’s voice cut through the air, a desperate plea amidst the chaos. "Hold on!" he gasped, "Just—just listen before you try to kill me again, okay?"
Shen Yuan’s day, already a masterpiece of misfortune, had just ascended to a whole new level of absurdity. With a dramatic sigh, he slumped against the wall, offering a silent, if begrudging, permission for the stranger to continue.
"M-my name is Luo Binghe,” the stranger stammered, his voice trembling. “I’m from the Cang Xiong Mountain Sect. I was taking a leisurely stroll when I tumbled into a... black rift of sorts. And the next thing I knew, I was here.” His eyes darted around the room. “I swear, I mean no harm! Please, can you tell me where I am?”
Shen Yuan stared incredulously and simultaneously came up with four theories: A) he died and went to hell, B) he's on some mind-altering substance, perhaps slipped into his food by a disgruntled postmate, C) this is all just a particularly vivid dream, or D) he'd somehow accidentally summoned the protagonist of a shitty novel by ranting about it on a forum website.
Option D was the clear frontrunner in the absurdity stakes, so Shen Yuan turned to his other options. Drugs seemed unlikely, unless his normally bland existence had secretly marked him for a mafia hit or an FBI sting. But as a social recluse who makes a living drawing furry art commissions for random people on Twitter, he doubted that he was high on the list of targets for either organization.
Shen Yuan let out a world-weary sigh, the sound echoing in the quiet room. The absurdity of the situation was slowly seeping into his bones. Was this all just a particularly vivid fever dream? There was only one way to find out.
"Alright," he muttered, his tone laced with skepticism. "Come here."
Luo Binghe hesitated, his eyes darting around as if expecting a sudden attack. With cautious steps, he inched closer to Shen Yuan, his body tense. As soon as they were within striking distance, Shen Yuan’s head shot forward, their foreheads colliding with a sickening thud.
A sharp pain shot through Shen Yuan's skull, and he swore loudly. “FUCK!”
Luo Binghe, on the other hand, seemed remarkably unfazed. He rubbed his head slowly, a puzzled expression on his face.
"Ow," he said, as if stating the obvious. "Why did you do that?"
Well, that eliminated the dream theory. With the evidence mounting, Shen Yuan was beginning to entertain the possibility that perhaps he was in hell after all.
"WHO ARE YOU?!" Shen Yuan roared, his voice a thunderclap in the still air. His eyes narrowed into slits as he glared at the intruder.
Luo Binghe stumbled backward, his face a mask of shock and fear. "I-I'm Luo Binghe."
"Bullshit! You expect me to believe that!?" Shen Yuan spat, disbelief lacing his tone. "Tell me who the fuck you are!"
Luo Binghe’s lips trembled as he insisted, "I-I’m not lying! My name is Luo Binghe. Have you heard of Cang Xiong Mountain Sect? You must have heard of Peak Master Shen..."
Shen Yuan's laughter erupted, bitter and incredulous. Of course he knew of it! But Cang Xiong Mountain Sect wasn't real - it was a fictional location in a xianxia novel!
"You expect me to believe you’re Luo Binghe?! A goddamn cultivator?!" Shen Yuan’s incredulity was palpable.
A flicker of hope ignited in Luo Binghe’s eyes. "That would be ideal, yes..."
Shen Yuan's anger was quickly eclipsed by a wave of confusion. Upon closer, proper inspection, this “Luo Binghe” did seem to match the way that Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky had described him in the novel. Long, inky hair cascaded over his pale skin, and his towering figure was cloaked in an austere black robe. His eyes, a piercing gray, held an otherworldly depth. And there it was, the crimson mark on his forehead.
So this was either a mind-boggling cosplay, or Shen Yuan was actually in hell. His own personal hell.
"Alright then. Prove it," Shen Yuan demanded, his voice laced with skepticism.
Luo Binghe blinked, taken aback by the sudden challenge. "Prove what?"
"That you’re Luo Binghe," Shen Yuan clarified, though he had no idea where this was going. The man certainly didn't look like he was carrying identification.
To Shen Yuan’s astonishment, Luo Binghe reached into the folds of his robe and produced a small, unassuming talisman. With a swift movement, he activated it, and the talisman exploded into a dazzling display. A swarm of iridescent butterflies filled the room. They danced and flitted about, their wings casting shimmering reflections on the walls before dissolving into a cloud of shimmering dust.
Shen Yuan’s jaw dropped. His mind was a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief. Well, would you look at that, he thought, dumbfounded.
"Do you believe me now?" asked Luo Binghe.
Shen Yuan really did not have a reason to doubt him now, so he wasn’t sure what to say. He was torn between screaming, demanding to know how the fuck Luo Binghe had pulled that off, and having an aneurysm. Maybe all three simultaneously.
Instead, he stayed silent for an uncomfortably long amount of time, just staring in the direction where the butterflies had just disappeared. Once Shen Yuan's brain started working again and the Windows XP error sound wasn’t blasting inside of his brain, Shen Yuan took a deep breath and composed himself properly.
This was weird, but honestly, should he even be surprised? The world works in mysterious ways. Maybe what he knew as fantasy wasn’t all completely fantasy after all. Amidst an existential crisis, Shen Yuan managed to look at Luo Binghe and gave him a firm nod.
“Okay. I believe you.”
A wide smile broke out on Luo Binghe’s face.
"...Can you untie me now?”
Luo Binghe perked up. "Oh! R-right, I’m sorry…”
Shen Yuan felt his wrists loosen as Luo Binghe finally undid the knots binding him. For a fleeting moment, Shen Yuan almost felt grateful—almost.
“Thank you,” he muttered, massaging his wrists. But as soon as Luo Binghe turned his back, Shen Yuan’s eyes darted to the other baseball bat tucked behind the couch. Without hesitation, he seized it, sprang to his feet, and, before Luo Binghe could fully process the betrayal, swung with all the force he could muster.
BONK!
This time, the impact landed squarely on Luo Binghe’s temple. The cultivator’s eyes widened in surprise before he slumped, unconscious, to the floor.
Shen Yuan, panting from the exertion and the wild adrenaline coursing through him, allowed himself a triumphant grin. “Ha! Cultivator or not, nobody messes with me in my apartment.”
He spared one last glance at Luo Binghe’s prone form, before grasping him firmly under the arms and dragging him, grunting and straining, across his living room, through the front door, and down the stairs. Thankfully, it was almost around two in the morning, so there was no one around to witness this - admittedly - highly suspicious endeavor.
Once Shen Yuan managed to deposit Luo Binghe on the sidewalk outside, he wiped the sweat from his brow, glared at the unconscious man, and said, “Consider this a polite eviction." With a final, satisfied huff, he went back inside his apartment building. As he made his way back upstairs to his apartment, he almost found himself feeling bad for the guy. Almost.
Was leaving him outside on the street a bit cruel? Yeah, sure, but, truthfully, Shen Yuan truly, wholeheartedly, did not give a fuck. Luo Binghe was someone else's problem now.
Shen Yuan returned to his apartment, locked the door, and collapsed on his bed.
・・・・・
Hours later, Shen Yuan was almost asleep. He’d convinced himself it had all been a hyper realistic fever dream—a concoction of caffeine, stress, and his seething hatred for Proud Immortal Demon Way. Until—
“SHIZUUUNNNN!"
The sound was heart-wrenching, carrying the raw anguish of someone who had lost everything. Shen Yuan shot up, his drowsiness instantly obliterated.
“SHIZUUUNNNN!"
The voice, thick with sobs, was unmistakably Luo Binghe’s. Shen Yuan’s face turned crimson as he bolted upright, heart pounding.
Oh no. No, no, no, no. This is not happening.
“Shizun!” Luo Binghe’s voice cracked, a fresh wave of sobbing punctuating his cries. “Shizun, please come back to me! I'm sorry!"
The sound reverberated through the street, echoing off the nearby apartment buildings. And then, to Shen Yuan’s dismay, he heard windows opening up and disgruntled voices joining the chorus.
“Hey, some of us are trying to sleep!"
“Dude, if this is a lover’s spat, take it somewhere else!"
Shen Yuan buried his face in his hands, mortified beyond belief. He opened his window, shouting out onto the street below: "Are you out of your mind?! Get lost!"
“SHIZUUUNNN!” Luo Binghe wailed, louder this time. He sounded genuinely devastated, his voice broken and hysterical. He was kneeling on the pavement, looking like a lost puppy with disheveled hair and tear-streaked cheeks.
Shen Yuan’s neighbors were not sympathetic.
“Get rid of him!”
“Hey, Romeo, shut your man up, or I’ll call the cops!”
Shen Yuan was torn between crying or jumping out the window. Finally, after a few more shouts from neighbors and a particularly loud “Just shut him up already!" from a guy across the street, Shen Yuan threw on his sweater and marched down to the lobby. As he pushed open the front door, he found Luo Binghe sitting on the steps, his face a tragic mask of grief, his eyes puffy and red.
“Shizun..." he whispered, his gaze softening with something close to reverence.
Shen Yuan grimaced, glancing nervously at the windows of his apartment building. “For fuck's sake..."
Luo Binghe looked up at him, a flicker of hope glistening in his tear-filled eyes. “Then… then you’ll take me back?”
Shen Yuan groaned, massaging his temples. “Fine. Just come inside before someone calls the cops."
A hesitant smile spread across Luo Binghe’s face, and he scrambled to his feet, following Shen Yuan back up the stairs. Shen Yuan could feel the weight of his neighbors' glares burning through the walls, and he walked faster, Luo Binghe trailing closely behind.
Back in his apartment, Shen Yuan kicked the door shut behind him with a deep sigh. Luo Binghe had, for the most part, stumbled up the stairs obediently, but his gaze hadn’t left Shen Yuan’s face once. Even now, he looked up at him with a mixture of awe and relief, eyes still slightly swollen from his bout of street-side sobbing.
With a grumble, Shen Yuan let go of Luo Binghe and muttered, “Look, I didn’t drag you back here because I’m… you know, a nice person or anything. I just don’t want my neighbors reporting me.”
Luo Binghe’s expression softened into something so pathetically grateful that Shen Yuan felt a faint pang of guilt. He brushed it off quickly. No way was he actually feeling bad for this guy.
“Sorry, okay?” he mumbled, glancing away to hide his expression. “But only if it’ll stop you from crying in the middle of the night outside my apartment."
“Shizun…” Luo Binghe whispered, his voice quiet and reverent. “Thank you.”
There it was again: shizun. Shen Yuan’s eyebrow twitched, and he finally turned to face him, crossing his arms. “Why do you keep calling me that?"
Luo Binghe blinked. “You... you look like my shizun, and I never learned your name... s-so I just said what came to mind..."
Shen Yuan’s breath hitched, his heart pounding as the name settled in the air between them. Shen Qingqiu. The Shen Qingqiu. The world’s worst villain, the heartless, manipulative scumbag who had put Luo Binghe through an endless cycle of misery. And he thought he looked like him? Boy, if that didn't make him feel like a fucking ray of sunshine...
“Oh,” he managed, a little unnerved. Shen Yuan had put so much effort into pretending this was just a fictional story, a bizarre glitch in the universe, but the comment threw him off-kilter. “You're telling me I look like him?”
“Yes,” Luo Binghe replied, his voice tinged with both affection and something darker. “But… you’re different.” His gaze softened as he studied Shen Yuan. “Shizun was… difficult.”
Shen Yuan chuckled, feeling that that was a pretty generous way of putting it. “So, you’re saying he was awful, but you just couldn’t quit him?”
Luo Binghe’s expression turned wistful. “He wasn’t always kind. But he… he was important."
Shen Yuan chewed his lip, unsure if he was supposed to feel honored or horrified. This guy’s whole twisted loyalty made him uneasy; after all, Shen Qingqiu had practically been the villain to end all villains, especially to Luo Binghe . But still… it was hard to ignore the vulnerability in Luo Binghe’s eyes.
Finally, he sighed, accepting his fate, and he gestured to the couch. “You’re sleeping there. Got it? Don’t even think about trying to sneak into my room."
Luo Binghe nodded dutifully, looking almost relieved to be allowed this close. He settled onto the couch as if it were the most luxurious place he’d ever been offered; and considering his past, it probably was. Shen Yuan shook his head, turning toward his bedroom. He grabbed an extra blanket from his closet and threw it at Luo Binghe before slamming the door shut.
As Shen Yuan climbed into bed, he wondered how his life had come to this. A once-fictional protagonist who looked at him like he was some cherished relic from his past was now, inexplicably, snoring on his couch.
What am I doing? he thought as he stared at the ceiling, too awake to even consider sleeping.
Chapter Text
When Shen Yuan woke up, it took a moment for his brain to catch up to the mess around him. His room looked like it had been hit by a small tornado: clothes on the floor, books knocked off the shelf, and a blanket thrown halfway across the bed. Then it all came flooding back. Luo Binghe, his apartment, last night.
He groaned, dragging himself out of bed. He had a sinking feeling as he padded into the living room, dreading whatever chaos awaited him. To his surprise, there was no visible chaos. Instead, he found Luo Binghe on the couch, fixated on some old drama he’d somehow figured out how to turn on, utterly engrossed in the TV screen. Shen Yuan raised a brow.
‘At least he isn’t tearing up the place…’
He glanced at his phone, thinking through his options, and reluctantly pulled up his contacts. If anyone could help him through this insanity, he thought, it would be his friends. He hit the call button, bracing himself.
Within thirty minutes, his two best friends were at his door. Xie Lian, all gentle smiles, and Wei Wuxian, who looked both concerned and mischievously eager. They took one look at Luo Binghe, who was now casting wary glances at the newcomers, and exchanged a look.
“Shen Yuan,” Wei Wuxian said with a grin that stretched from ear to ear, “is there something you’ve been keeping from us?"
Shen Yuan shot him a withering look. “Friends are supposed to be supportive, you know. Not—whatever this is.”
Xie Lian chuckled softly, but his expression grew sympathetic as he took in the whole scene. “What exactly is going on, then?”
With a dramatic sigh, Shen Yuan recounted the whole bizarre story, trying to explain as best he could without sounding entirely delusional. Wei Wuxian had his head tilted, arms crossed, a grin plastered on his face the entire time, while Xie Lian’s expression flickered between polite concern and mild amusement.
Once Shen Yuan finished, Wei Wuxian snorted, shaking his head. “So… let me get this straight. Your husband from a novel came to life and decided to move in with you?”
Shen Yuan flushed, glancing back at Luo Binghe, who was still seated on the couch, watching the TV. “He’s not my husband,” he said, crossing his arms.
“You sure about that?” Wei Wuxian waggled his eyebrows.
Shen Yuan groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Why are you guys like this? I called you for help, not to be mocked.”
Xie Lian held up his hands in surrender, though a faint smile played on his lips. “Alright, alright. But, seriously, what do you plan to do? You can’t just leave him wandering around.”
“That’s why I called you guys!” Shen Yuan said, exasperated. “I have no idea what to do with him.”
Wei Wuxian leaned back thoughtfully. “Well, I think you should just keep him.”
“What?”
“Yeah! I mean, look at him!" Wei Wuxian gestured to Luo Binghe, who blinked, looking rather innocent for someone who’d recently cried on the street at two in the morning. “He’s from some ancient, martial arts, cultivation world, right? What’s he going to do here? If you send him out on his own, he’d probably get lost, or arrested… or, I don’t know, destroy a city.”
Xie Lian nodded in agreement. “It’s true, Shen Yuan. If he’s really as unique as you’ve described, this world would be confusing and overwhelming for him. At least here, he has you as an anchor.”
Shen Yuan ran a hand through his hair, looking back at Luo Binghe, who was now watching their conversation with a suspicious yet curious expression. It wasn’t that he wanted to be stuck babysitting him forever, but the idea of Luo Binghe trying to navigate modern life alone…
He sighed, already feeling the weight of it settling on his shoulders. “Fine,” he muttered. "Fine, I’ll let him stay here. But only because I don’t want to be responsible for some ancient terror running around.”
Wei Wuxian grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. “You say that now, but just wait. By the end of the week, you’ll be smitten.”
Shen Yuan shot him a glare that could have wilted a houseplant. “Get out. Both of you.”
With shared laughter, Xie Lian and Wei Wuxian waved him off and headed for the door, but not without Wei Wuxian whispering something that sounded suspiciously like “Good luck with your new husband!” as he stepped outside.
Shen Yuan slammed the door after them.
・・・・・
Shen Yuan squinted at Luo Binghe, who was seated cross-legged on the floor, looking more or less like a confused but very obedient puppy. He’d spent the last ten minutes emphasizing do not touch anything and do not do anything absurd—as if that would make a dent in Luo Binghe’s unpredictability. To his credit, Luo Binghe nodded seriously, looking intensely at Shen Yuan as if memorizing each word like it was a life-or-death instruction.
Shen Yuan sighed, handing him the remote and offering a hurried, crash-course explanation on how to navigate through a handful of streaming apps. When Luo Binghe stared at the remote with wide-eyed curiosity, Shen Yuan felt a little sorry for him—being plopped into an unfamiliar world, totally out of his depth. But there was no time to dwell on that.
“Okay,” he said, voice firm. “Just… sit here and watch TV, okay? I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“Yes, Shizun,” Luo Binghe replied, eyes gleaming with an earnestness that made Shen Yuan feel a pang of guilt. But he pushed it aside. "Just... stay here and be good,” he muttered, glancing at the clock and grabbing his bag. With a final look, he stepped out, the door clicking shut behind him.
The day went surprisingly smoothly. Shen Yuan made it to class on time, sank into his seat, and for a while, he almost forgot about Luo Binghe. The hum of the lecture lulled him into a sleepy haze, and he found himself drifting off a bit, leaning back in his seat with the vague thought that maybe leaving Luo Binghe alone had actually been fine.
The door to the classroom opened, and Shen Yuan jerked awake as a campus security officer entered, scanning the room. Shen Yuan blinked, straightening in his seat as the officer’s gaze landed on him.
“Uh, Mr. Shen Yuan?” The officer looked slightly exasperated. “Your… friend is outside causing a scene.”
For a moment, Shen Yuan’s heart dropped. He couldn’t think of anyone else it could possibly be. Groaning inwardly, he scrambled out of his seat, the eyes of his classmates following him curiously as he followed the officer out of the room.
He’d barely made it halfway across campus when he saw it: a small crowd gathered beneath a tree, where campus security officers were gesturing up into the branches, looking somewhere between exasperated and concerned.
There, halfway up the tree, was Luo Binghe, gripping the trunk with the intensity of a cat who’d misjudged its leap and was now terrified to climb down. His arms and legs were wrapped tightly around the trunk, his face a mixture of confusion and terror as he clung on, refusing to budge.
“Shizun!” Luo Binghe’s voice was a plaintive cry the second he spotted Shen Yuan approaching.
Shen Yuan stood there, momentarily frozen in disbelief as he took in the scene. “Are… are you kidding me?”
One of the campus security officers looked at him, eyebrows raised. “Your friend got spooked when some students tried to talk to him. He climbed that tree and hasn’t come down since.”
Shen Yuan pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to scream.
‘Why? Why did I leave him alone?’
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to appear somewhat calm as he walked up to the tree, looking up at Luo Binghe, who was now staring down at him with the same lost-puppy eyes he’d had this morning. “Luo Binghe,” he said as calmly as he could, though the urge to yell was strong. “What are you doing up there?”
“Shizun... people kept coming near me, and… and I couldn’t…” Luo Binghe’s voice was a shaky whisper, and he clutched the trunk even tighter. “It was safer up here.”
Shen Yuan closed his eyes for a moment, counting to three. “Alright, alright. Just… come down. You’re safe now.”
It took a few more minutes of coaxing, but finally, Luo Binghe began to inch down the tree, clinging to the bark as if every slip was a potential freefall. By the time he reached the ground, Shen Yuan was exhausted—emotionally and mentally.
As soon as his feet touched the grass, Luo Binghe immediately latched onto Shen Yuan’s sleeve, staring up at him with an almost childlike expression of relief. The campus security officers gave them a look that screamed “not our problem” and dispersed, leaving Shen Yuan standing there, wondering how on earth he was going to survive having Luo Binghe in his life. He glanced down at Luo Binghe, who was still clinging to him like he was some sort of lifeline.
“Look,” Shen Yuan began, exasperated, “we’ll talk about this later. But no more climbing trees, alright?”
Luo Binghe nodded, wide-eyed and sincere, as if Shen Yuan had just imparted some sacred wisdom. “Yes, Shizun.”
・・・・・
Shen Yuan trudged back to his apartment, Luo Binghe in tow. After the ordeal with the tree and the looks he’d gotten from the campus security officers, he’d decided the day was already ruined and wasn’t worth salvaging. By the time they reached the front door, his patience was shot, and all he wanted was peace.
Luo Binghe looked at him with a hesitant expression as they walked inside. “Shizun, I… I’m sorry…”
Shen Yuan didn’t respond, keeping his eyes fixed on the hallway ahead as he steered Luo Binghe toward the couch. He knew Luo Binghe hadn’t meant any harm, but he couldn’t help the frustration simmering beneath his skin. He just needed a break.
“It’s fine,” Shen Yuan said finally, his voice short. “Just… stay here. I need to get some work done.”
Luo Binghe nodded, sinking onto the couch with his head down, looking like a forlorn puppy. That was… not a pleasant sight. Shen Yuan turned away quickly, refusing to acknowledge the pang of guilt that sprang up. ‘I’m not the one causing chaos,' he reminded himself. ‘I deserve a break.' And so, he retreated to his room, closed the door, and sat down at his desk, where his drawing tablet full of half-finished art commissions awaited him.
An hour passed, and he barely got through a single sketch. Every time he glanced up from the tablet, his mind drifted back to the forlorn look on Luo Binghe’s face. ‘You’re not responsible for him,' he told himself firmly, but it was no use. Eventually, curiosity—and guilt—got the better of him, and he cracked his door open just a fraction. The sight that greeted him made his resolve crumble.
Luo Binghe had wrapped himself up in a blanket, looking like the world’s saddest burrito. He was slumped on the couch, staring miserably at a drama playing on the TV. The screen flashed with a tearful couple dramatically separating in the rain, and Luo Binghe looked like he might start crying along with them, his shoulders slumped as he watched in defeated silence. Wow. Shen Yuan felt like an asshole.
Shen Yuan sighed, shutting his door and walking over, dragging his feet. “Binghe,”
Luo Binghe looked up, his expression brightening almost immediately, though he tried to hide it behind a shaky, sad frown. “Shizun… I… I didn’t mean to—”
Shen Yuan held up a hand. “I know, I know. I overreacted.” He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling awkward. “This world’s… different. It’s not your fault.”
The transformation was instant. Luo Binghe’s face lit up, and he straightened, the blanket slipping off his shoulders as he gave Shen Yuan a tentative smile, his earlier melancholy vanishing like it had never been there in the first place.
“Really?” Luo Binghe’s voice was tentative, but his smile grew wide and hopeful. “Shizun, does that mean… you forgive me?”
Shen Yuan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 'He’s so precious, it’s almost embarrassing..' “Yes, yes. I forgive you.”
Luo Binghe’s face softened into the happiest smile Shen Yuan had ever seen, and Shen Yuan felt his earlier frustration fade completely. “Thank you, Shizun. I’ll be good from now on. I promise.”
Feeling his annoyance dissipate entirely, Shen Yuan waved a hand. “Come on, scoot over.” He plopped down on the couch beside Luo Binghe, grabbing the blanket and draping it back around his shoulders, earning him an almost puppy-like look of gratitude. “What are we watching?”
Luo Binghe’s face lit up as he turned back to the TV, where the drama continued in full swing. “It’s about this couple… but they’re separated because of fate…”
Shen Yuan chuckled, sinking back into the couch and letting the TV’s glow wash over them. “Alright, alright. Let’s see how it goes.”
And so they sat, the earlier tension forgotten as they spent the rest of the day together, watching melodramatic twists and tearful reunions unfold on the screen. Shen Yuan couldn’t help but feel a little better watching Luo Binghe’s rapt, innocent expression as he took in every moment of the show, looking like the most content person in the world.
・・・・・
As the days went by, Luo Binghe’s clinginess only seemed to grow, trailing after Shen Yuan wherever he went and looking forlorn any time Shen Yuan left the apartment without him. It was endearing but also a little exhausting. After all, Shen Yuan did still have classes, commissions, and an actual life to attend to.
So, he decided to bite the bullet and get Luo Binghe a phone.
Standing in the electronics store, Shen Yuan felt a wave of apprehension as he eyed the sleek models on display. He had no idea how to explain texting to someone who was still getting used to electric lights, but it seemed like it was too late to back out now. Shen Yuan bought a basic, user-friendly model and took it home to start what he already knew would be a very tedious tutorial session.
"Alright," Shen Yuan sighed as they sat side-by-side on the couch, phone in hand. "This is your phone. You can use it to communicate with me if you need anything while I’m at class."
Luo Binghe’s eyes were wide with fascination as Shen Yuan walked him through the basics—how to turn the phone on, navigate the menu, and find Shen Yuan's number. Luo Binghe nodded intently at every word, staring at the screen as if it held some kind of mystical power.
“And this,” Shen Yuan said, holding up the phone’s screen, “is how you text. You just type out what you want to say here. Got it?”
Luo Binghe squinted at the keyboard. "Yes, Shizun." His fingers hovered tentatively, typing slowly at first, but Shen Yuan helped him along until he got the hang of it.
They ran through a few practice calls, Shen Yuan pretending he was “in class” as Luo Binghe nervously dialed and waited for Shen Yuan to pick up. After a few tries, Luo Binghe seemed confident enough, beaming every time Shen Yuan answered.
With a new phone in hand and the basics more or less covered, Shen Yuan could finally return to university with some semblance of peace of mind, hoping that Luo Binghe could handle a few hours on his own. Surprisingly, the plan actually worked.
Luo Binghe didn’t show up on campus or cause any scenes, and the calls were infrequent—just a few here and there, usually when he wanted to ask an odd question about modern life. Most of the time, it was innocent, inquiring about a strange noise he heard or asking how a microwave worked. Shen Yuan couldn’t believe it was actually working.
・・・・・
After a long day of lectures and assignments, Shen Yuan trudged up to his apartment. When he opened the door, the first thing that hit him was the smell. Not the usual scent of stale instant noodles or whatever takeout container he forgot to throw out, but the warm, mouthwatering aroma of freshly cooked food. He blinked in shock, stepping inside cautiously, as if the pleasant atmosphere might somehow be a trap.
The apartment was spotless. Not just “picked up and tidied” spotless, but gleaming—floors vacuumed, counters wiped down, and even the faint scent of some kind of something refreshing wafted through the air.
His apartment was more often than not in a state of what he considered “creative disarray”—papers, textbooks, art supplies, and various manga scattered across every available surface. He barely recognized his own living room. It was as if he’d walked into a completely different apartment.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Luo Binghe appeared, looking especially cheerful.
“Welcome back, Shizun!” he said brightly.
Shen Yuan shut the door behind him, still gaping. “Binghe, did... did you do all of this?”
Luo Binghe nodded, pride clear in his expression. “Of course! I thought Shizun would appreciate coming home to a clean space and a warm meal. I even cleaned your bedroom!” he added with an expectant tone, as if anticipating praise.
Shen Yuan’s stomach dropped. “My—my room?" The disaster zone? The Bermuda Triangle of his entire apartment? He was impressed but also vaguely horrified, especially at the thought that Luo Binghe might have found… certain items in his collection. There was, after all, a stash of “educational” manga tucked away that he would rather no one ever found.
But Luo Binghe’s earnest face was impossible to resist, looking at Shen Yuan with such open hopefulness. “Thanks, Binghe,” Shen Yuan said, patting his head gently. “You did a good job.” Luo Binghe practically glowed under the praise, leaning into the head pat like an overjoyed puppy.
"Shizun works so hard. It's the least I can do!" Luo Binghe said with a bright, earnest smile.
Shen Yuan was suddenly flustered, his face heating up at the unexpected sincerity. “Well… uh… thanks. I appreciate it,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck as he kicked off his shoes and shuffled to the table.
Dinner was a simple but delicious spread of stir-fried vegetables, steamed rice, and what looked like some kind of homemade braised pork. As Shen Yuan ate, he couldn’t help but marvel at how good everything was. Each bite was perfectly balanced, with just the right amount of seasoning.
“This is really good,” he admitted sheepishly between mouthfuls. “Where did you learn to cook like this, Binghe?”
Luo Binghe’s eyes lit up at the praise. “I taught myself,” he said. “I wanted to make sure Shizun would enjoy it.”
The words ‘Shizun would enjoy it’ rattled around in Shen Yuan’s head like a loose screw. Why did they sound so domestic?
After they finished eating, Shen Yuan got up to take the plates to the sink, but Luo Binghe was already moving to stop him.
“This disciple will handle it,” Luo Binghe insisted, gently prying the plates from Shen Yuan’s hands. “Shizun should rest or work on his art. This disciple doesn't mind.”
Shen Yuan stared at him for a long moment, his chest doing something embarrassingly soft and squishy. “...Okay,” he relented finally, retreating toward his room before his emotions could embarrass him further.
Inside his room, Shen Yuan sat at his desk and stared at his drawing tablet. What the hell was that? He pressed his hands to his face and groaned into them. He wasn’t actually blushing, was he? No. Impossible. Blushing was for flustered anime schoolgirls, not for a grown man like him, damn it!
They settled down that evening, Shen Yuan grabbing the remote and setting up their usual nightly routine of watching whatever random show was on. Halfway through the show, Luo Binghe edged closer on the couch, inch by inch, until he was practically leaning into Shen Yuan’s side. When Shen Yuan felt a gentle weight on his shoulder, he looked over to see Luo Binghe gazing at him with a look of pure, contented adoration.
“Luo Binghe, what are you doing?” Shen Yuan asked, one eyebrow raised.
Luo Binghe just smiled, as if he had done nothing wrong.
Shen Yuan snorted and, with a teasing nudge, pushed him back to his side of the couch. “This is my space,” he said, but there was no real bite to his words. Luo Binghe shuffled back obediently, though Shen Yuan caught the faint pout on his lips as he settled into his designated half. But as they watched TV, Shen Yuan couldn’t help but notice the ghost of a smile tugging at his own mouth.
Chapter Text
A gourmet aroma, something rich and savory, wafted through the air, prying Shen Yuan from the embrace of his morning routine.
“Shizun! Breakfast is ready!” Luo Binghe’s voice chirped from the kitchen.
Shen Yuan, still blinking away sleep, pulled on his favorite hoodie and grabbed his battered bag. The moment he stepped into the kitchen, his eyes landed on the culinary masterpiece already waiting on the table, shimmering invitingly under the light.
“Good morning, Shizun!” Luo Binghe greeted him, radiating pleased-puppy energy.
“Morning, Binghe,” Shen Yuan replied, pulling up a chair. This had become their morning ritual. This, he reflected, was his life now. The once-feared demon lord of Proud Immortal Demon Way was now reduced to a supremely dedicated, apron-wearing housewife, and Shen Yuan, whose diet used to consist of microwaved leftovers and takeout, now woke up every morning in anticipation of these daily gastronomic wonders.
He wondered how he’d stumbled into this bizarre, yet incredibly pampered existence. He hadn’t asked Luo Binghe to become his personal chef, but he looked content doing so, so Shen Yuan let him. Besides, Luo Binghe’s looking was, frankly, divine. As for where Luo Binghe sourced the ingredients, Shen Yuan tried not to think about that too much. Better not to look a gift horse in the mouth.
He glanced up and found Luo Binghe watching him eat, an expression of beatific contentment plastered across his face. Shen Yuan realized that, though Binghe made food, he never actually ate any of it himself.
“Binghe,” Shen Yuan ventured. “Don’t you ever… eat?”
Luo Binghe waved a hand dismissively. “Shizun’s concern is touching. But as a cultivator, I don’t require sustenance in the same way mortals do. My spiritual powers allow me to sustain myself for several weeks between meals.”
Right. Shen Yuan sometimes forgot about that. It was hard to reconcile the image of this domestic, clingy individual with the world-destroying, protagonist-haloed behemoth from the novel. Luo Binghe now seemed perfectly happy watching sappy dramas and keeping Shen Yuan company. He was about as harmless as a puppy… well, most of the time, anyway. Except when Luo Binghe felt there was a perceived threat against Shen Yuan.
When he’d finished his breakfast, Shen Yuan slung his bag over his shoulder. “I’m off,” he announced, making his way to the door.
“Take care, Shizun! Have a wonderful day!” Luo Binghe called after him.
The moment the door clicked shut, Luo Binghe broke out into a triumphant grin.
“All right! No scolding or mistakes this morning! Shizun finished all of his breakfast! This is a perfect start to the day!” he thought, practically preening. “I think I’m starting to get the hang of this world!”
・・・・・
Luo Binghe was utterly absorbed, perched on the edge of the sofa, a notepad and a pen clutched in his hands. On the screen in front of him, a chipper cooking show host droned on.
“The secret is to marinate the meat in honey,” the chipper host instructed, “That way, it will grow tender and absorb flavor more easily. Think of it as a love letter to your ingredients, coaxing out their very essence…”
Luo Binghe scribbled furiously, his brow furrowed in concentration. A love letter to ingredients? He nodded vigorously. This was it! This was the crucial knowledge he needed! Every perfectly seasoned bite, every meticulously arranged garnish was a step closer to earning Shen Yuan’s love and praise!
The thought of Shen Yuan bringing his food to those undeniably kissable lips, his eyes widening just a fraction before a soft, contented hum escaped him—oh, the sheer intoxicating giddiness that surged through Luo Binghe’s chest at the prospect! He practically vibrated off the cushions. Just imagine Shizun looking at him with that approving gaze!
Later, the cooking show gave way to a program that was seemingly about relationships and courtship in this world. Binghe, ever the diligent student of his strange new environment, settled in. People called in with all sorts of perplexing problems, discussing their desires, and the hosts cheerfully dissected societal norms and offered advice. The current segment was unveiling the results of a survey titled, "What Trendy People Want Their Partner To Do."
Some terms were confusing. Luo Binghe didn't quite grasp the mechanics of "spooning," though it sounded like a rather intimate form of cutlery appreciation, nor could he visualize a "princess carry" beyond the vague notion of Shen Yuan looking utterly divine cradled in his arms. He learned that in this world, holding hands was a major expression of affection.
Luo Binghe’s face flushed a delightful rose-red, a soft, involuntary sigh escaping him, and his feet actually began to kick in the air as he imagined Shen Yuan’s hand entwined with his own, walking casually down the street. The thought alone sent a delicious shiver down his spine. Shen Yuan holding his hand! In public! The scandal!
“And the number one thing people want their partners to do is…” the host announced dramatically, “The Wall Slam!”
Binghe paused, pen hovering. The Wall Slam? That sounded… aggressive. His brow furrowed in genuine confusion. His mind conjured images of powerful, spiritual-energy infused impacts, perhaps some sort of cultivation technique. Surely that would be quite painful for a delicate human like his Shizun? No, no, absolutely not! He would never dream of inflicting even the slightest discomfort on his beloved! He would sooner tear out his own heart!
Luckily, a clip from a drama flashed across the screen, demonstrating the enigmatic Wall Slam. It was far, far gentler than his initial imaginings. It merely involved one partner backing the other gracefully into a wall, caging them in with an arm, and leaning in close with an intense, smoldering gaze. His eyes widened. Oh, wow. Courtship in this world was truly fascinating… and delightfully suggestive!
A lovesick, utterly unhinged grin spread across Luo Binghe’s face. His mind, of course, immediately spun to his precious Shen Yuan. He imagined it now, so vividly it made his whole body hum: Shen Yuan, backing him against a wall, those long, elegant arms caging him in. Shen Yuan’s usually cool, discerning eyes would be softened, deepened, perhaps even smoldering with a possessive heat, just for him.
The thought alone made a scorching wave of excitement and a dizzying, giddy heat burst in his chest, his features flushed a brilliant crimson. He buried his face in his hands, letting out a high-pitched, delighted squeal, his entire body radiating an embarrassing amount of delighted fluster. Oh, to be pinned, helpless and utterly at his Shizun’s mercy, against a wall! One could certainly hope!
・・・・・
That evening, Luo Binghe was once again glued to the TV, captivated by another program, an apparent magic show. He hadn't realized that people of this bizarre world possessed such innate magical abilities. On screen, a man in a sparkly waistcoat pulled a glinting spoon from a hat and held it aloft for the audience.
“And now, for this next trick,” the magician announced with a theatrical flourish, “I will bend this spoon! I need not use any strength, oh no! All I must do is simply will it to do so!”
The magician then performed some subtle, esoteric movements with his hands before placing a thumb on the tip of the spoon, and with what looked like no effort whatsoever, the metal effortlessly bent with perfect curve. Luo Binghe’s jaw went slack. He hadn’t seen the man use any visible physical strength, and it didn't look like he'd channeled any spiritual energy, either.
Driven by a sudden, intense desire to understand, Luo Binghe decided to try the trick himself. He padded into the kitchen, grabbed a spoon from the drawer, and returned to his perch. He stared intently at the spoon in his hand, willing it to bend. He mimicked the magician’s strange hand gestures. Then, he tried to bend it.
Nothing.
The spoon remained stubbornly straight. He furrowed his brow, trying again, harder. He could bend the spoon, of course, but only after employing physical force. It was bent, yes, but crudely, inefficiently, and certainly not with the effortless grace of that magician. How had that seemingly ordinary mortal done it so flawlessly?
Many attempts later, a growing heap of twisted cutlery accumulating on the table before him. Binghe’s earlier excitement had curdled into a frustrated pout. His brow was furrowed in genuine vexation. How had that flimsy mortal done it?! Surely, he must possess some secret, modern-world magic!
Just then, Shen Yuan emerged from his bedroom. He paused, blinking slowly at the sight before him: a sulking Luo Binghe, slumped at the kitchen table, surrounded by what looked like the casualties of a small utensil-based war.
“I—” Shen Yuan managed, a slight twitch at the corner of his eye. “Binghe, what did you do?”
Luo Binghe snapped out of his contemplative daze, his head whipping up. “Oh, Shizun! This disciple apologizes! I will clean this mess up right away!”
With a small, dismissive flick of Luo Binghe's hand, the heap of bent spoons and forks levitated gracefully into the air, straightened themselves out, and then floated back towards the drawer, slotting themselves into neat, organized rows.
Shen Yuan was, once again, momentarily speechless. No matter how many times Binghe casually flaunted his powers to fix a mundane problem, it never failed to be mind-boggling.
“It’s—it’s fine, Binghe,” Shen Yuan finally managed, stifling a sigh and pulling up a chair opposite him. “What were you trying to do, anyway?”
Binghe, still wearing that lingering pout, gestured vaguely towards the TV. Shen Yuan turned his head. On the screen, a magician was performing various tricks in front of an audience.
“Ah, I see.” Shen Yuan murmured, turning back to Luo Binghe. “Do you find psychic powers unusual?”
Luo Binghe’s jaw dropped a little, then a lot. “Psychic powers?!” he exclaimed, his eyes blazing with wonder and fervent curiosity. “Do people of this world truly possess such an ability?”
Shen Yuan merely shrugged, pushing himself up. He casually plucked a spoon from the now-restored drawer. He sat back down and, with a quick, practiced motion that was almost too fast to follow, bent the spoon effortlessly, then straightened it. Binghe’s eyes gleamed with amazement.
“I knew it! Shizun is no mere mortal!” Binghe declared, practically vibrating with hero worship.
Shen Yuan, deadpan as ever, simply replied, “It’s just sleight-of-hand, Binghe. Anyone can do it once they learn the trick behind it.”
Binghe looked at him thoughtfully. He remembered hearing somewhere that people in this world only used ten percent of their brain. If this was true, surely all people in this world must possess vast, untapped potential! They could, if they so desired, unlock these latent psychic powers, perhaps even achieve feats of superhuman strength! A complacent species, indeed, content to squander their true potential, sitting idly while their brains remained ninety percent dormant! Humanity, left to its own devices, was a dangerous prospect indeed, full of unexplored, terrifying possibilities!
Shen Yuan raised an eyebrow, a familiar weariness settling over him. Then, as if he had been able to read Luo Binghe’s increasingly alarming mental gymnastics, he said, his voice flat, “I can tell you’re having one of your strange ideas again. Whatever you’re thinking, Binghe, I assure you it’s not like that.”
Fifteen agonizing minutes crawled by, marked only by the futile metallic clangs and the increasing pile of misshapen cutlery. Luo Binghe finally slumped onto the couch, a picture of utter defeat and profound sulkiness.
Shen Yuan, who had been watching this whole ordeal unfold from the sidelines, sighed. He shifted, settling onto the cushion next to him. “Binghe,” he said, "you can already do things that people in this world can’t even dream of. Isn't that enough?”
“Absolutely not!” Luo Binghe declared, snapping upright with a rigid determination. His eyes blazed with renewed, stubborn fire. “This disciple will not be outdone by mere mortals! I cannot, I will not be inferior to them in any way, shape, or form!” He snatched up another spoon, glaring at it as if it had personally insulted his cultivation prowess.
Shen Yuan watched him attempt to wrestle the offending utensil into submission again, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. Luo Binghe probably wasn't being entirely honest with that declaration. Beneath the dramatic pronouncements of not being outdone, Shen Yuan suspected that Binghe actually, genuinely wanted to understand the nuances of this world. That's why he obsessed over these seemingly mundane things he couldn't immediately grasp. It was strangely endearing.
Sighing, Shen Yuan reached over. His fingers gently closed around Luo Binghe’s hand, guiding it, almost coaxing it, onto the spoon. “Binghe,” he explained, “You don’t will it. You find its center of gravity. See? Use the principle of leverage, like this, and…” Shen Yuan’s thumb and forefinger subtly adjusted Binghe’s grip, demonstrating the precise angle.
This time, the spoon yielded. It bent with surprising ease, a perfect, elegant curve. Luo Binghe gaped at the bent metal in his hand, then at Shen Yuan, then back at the spoon. His eyes lit up like a thousand suns. “Shizun! Look!” he exclaimed, his voice practically a delighted squeal. “It worked!”
Shen Yuan grinned, a genuine smile. “Well done, Binghe,” he praised. Then, because he knew Luo Binghe particularly enjoyed it, he reached over and gave Luo Binghe an appreciative pat on the head, ruffling his soft hair.
Luo Binghe practically melted. He reveled in the casual praise, leaning into the head pat like a colossal, delighted puppy being fussed over by its beloved owner. Who knew that the terrifying, all-powerful Luo Binghe had a thing for praise?
Chapter Text
Shen Yuan sat at his desk, hands hovering over his keyboard as he stared at the screen. The apartment was silent, the only noise was the soft hum of his computer and the occasional sounds of Luo Binghe moving around in the background. Shen Yuan couldn't focus, though. His mind was whirling with thoughts of how utterly absurd his situation had become.
He tried everything. Everything. Googling, asking questions on obscure forums (where his “accidental summon” of a fictional character was immediately dismissed as some kind of roleplay), and even scouring Reddit’s most niche subreddits for any signs that someone, anyone, had experienced a similar phenomenon.
The results? Absolutely nothing! There was no record of someone like him—no account of a person somehow dragging the main character of a novel into the real world. He was, apparently, the only person in existence to be living out this ridiculous scenario. Eight billion people in the world, and you’re telling him he's the only one who's summoned a fictional character by writing a negative review of a novel online? Outrageous.
Shen Yuan leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. This was getting out of hand. Seriously, how was he supposed to deal with this? He barely knew anything about Luo Binghe beyond what he had read in the novel. Sure, he knew he liked dramas, had an innate talent for cleaning and cooking, and that he was clingy as shit, but what was he supposed to do with that information?! He couldn’t make a proper assessment of this guy based on just those things. And to top it off, he didn’t even know the first thing about how to deal with him in this world.
So, Shen Yuan did the only thing that made sense at the time—he devised a plan. A big one. A risky one. The answer had been so clear, it almost smacked him in the face. Who knows Luo Binghe the best? Who could possibly know him better than anyone else? The answer was simple: the author, of course!
Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky—the “great god” responsible for writing the crime against humanity that was Proud Immortal Demon Way. The one who had created Luo Binghe, shaping his life, his struggles, his entire being. If anyone could give Shen Yuan the answers he needed, it was him. No one else could possibly understand Luo Binghe the way his creator did, right? The goal? To find the elusive Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky and do what any sane person would do in this situation: demand that the creator tell him how to handle his fictional character who had inexplicably come to life.
The problem, of course, was that he had no idea how to reach the author. He had considered the obvious options—sending an email, maybe a direct message. But let’s face it, if the author hadn’t blocked him by now, it was only because they hadn’t gotten around to it yet. There was no way he was getting a reply from them.
It was an outrageous plan. Bananas, even. Absolutely downright bonkers. But Shen Yuan had come to the conclusion that he had no other choice. And besides, if things went wrong, it wasn’t his fault, right? It was Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky’s fault for creating such a mess of a novel in the first place. If it weren’t for the damn book, Shen Yuan wouldn’t be in this absurd predicament. So, logically, he had every right to take these measures. His actions were completely justified.
・・・・・
One sun-drenched afternoon, Shen Yuan found himself deep in the throes of artist’s block, staring blankly at a digital sketch of a grumpy-looking radish. As he contemplated the philosophical implications of staring at a blank page, Luo Binghe’s cheerful voice cut through the creative void.
“Shizun!” he announced. “This disciple is heading out!”
Shen Yuan looked up from his tablet. Luo Binghe was already at the door, clutching a reusable shopping bag.
“Where are you headed?” Shen Yuan asked, mildly curious.
“To acquire provisions, Shizun!” Luo Binghe replied, holding up the grocery bag.
Normally, Shen Yuan’s days off revolved around the noble arts of couch-potatoing, avoiding human interaction at all costs, and enjoying the blissful confines of his apartment. Yet, an unprecedented urge seized him.
“Wait,” he found himself saying, pushing himself off the sofa. “I’ll… tag along.”
Luo Binghe’s face lit up with delight, a blinding grin splitting his features. “Shizun would like to accompany this disciple?! How wonderful! Let us depart at once!” He practically vibrated with excitement.
As they walked, Shen Yuan pondered the peculiarity of the situation. Despite Luo Binghe having been a constant presence in his life for weeks now, Shen Yuan had never actually accompanied him on one of these shopping excursions. Part of him was genuinely curious – what did Luo Binghe get up to on his little outings? And perhaps more importantly, how did he behave in public? Luo Binghe, with his perfect looks and his tendency to project overwhelming charisma and menace, admittedly stuck out like a sore thumb among any crowd.
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe’s voice sliced through Shen Yuan’s contemplative trance. “The shopping district is right here.”
Shen Yuan blinked, realizing he’d drifted ahead a few steps, lost in thought. “Ah,” he said, glancing around. “You don’t go to the department store over there?”
Luo Binghe shook his head. “This disciple prefers the shopping district. It reminds me of the markets back in my world. It feels more authentic.”
Luo Binghe bases just about everything on past experiences, huh? No gleaming, sterile aisiles for this demon lord!
“Well then,” Shen Yuan said, adjusting his bag. “Let’s start by buying some fish.”
“Okay!” Luo Binghe chirped, leading the way into the vibrant, noisy heart of the shopping district.
When they reached the fish shop, the burly fishmonger, currently scaling a large tuna, broke out into a wide grin at the sight of Luo Binghe. “Ah, if it isn’t Luo Binghe!” he boomed, a genuine warmth in his voice.
Shen Yuan was momentarily stunned. Wow, this merchant knows Luo Binghe by name? Not just that, but he’s basically radiating bonhomie!
“Good afternoon, Mr. Tao!” Luo Binghe replied.
The fishmonger wiped his hands on his apron. “It’s not often that I see you with a companion,” he observed, glancing at Shen Yuan with a friendly curiosity. “This a friend of yours?”
Luo Binghe puffed out his chest, a proprietary gleam in his eyes. “He’s my master!” he announced proudly, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.
“H-hello…” Shen Yuan managed, feeling a blush creep up his neck as he gave an awkward half-bow.
The fishmonger didn’t seem to question this at all. “Nice to meet you, then!” he chuckled. “Ah, by the way, Binghe, we’ve got some great mackerel today. Fresh from the boats this morning! How does that sound for your master?”
“In that case,” Luo Binghe began, “I’ll take two of those, and two dried jack mackerel, please.”
To Shen Yuan’s astonishment, the fishmonger ended up tucking in an extra, plump fillet of mackerel with a conspiratorial wink. As they walked away from the shop, Shen Yuan turned to Luo Binghe, utterly baffled.
“Why are you friends with the fishmonger?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity.
Luo Binghe tilted his head like a puzzled puppy. “Hm? We’re not friends, Shizun. I was merely courteous to him so he would be nice in return, that’s all. I’m simply trying to manipulate him in order to get the best deal for Shizun’s meals.” he said casually, as if discussing the weather.
Shen Yuan let out a weary sigh. “Binghe,” he said, “I think you’ve got a knack for misunderstanding social cues.”
Luo Binghe’s confusion melted away, replaced by an expression of pure, shining adoration, his eyes fixed on Shen Yuan like a truly lovesick puppy. “Of course, things are different between the two of us, Shizun! We share a profound, mutual love!”
“Thanks for proving my point…” Shen Yuan mumbled.
As their shopping excursion continued, Shen Yuan's bewilderment only deepened. It was one thing to witness Luo Binghe's strange domesticity within the safe confines of their apartment; it was an entirely different, infinitely more perplexing beast to observe it in the wild.
Everywhere they went, it was the same baffling scene. They passed a flower stall, vibrant and fragrant, and the young woman tending it waved enthusiastically. "Luo Binghe! Good to see you!” she chirped. Luo Binghe offered his most dazzling smile. "Hello, Miss. Chen!" he replied.
A few stalls down, a kindly older gentleman selling handmade crafts called out, "Ah, young Luo! Still going strong with the costume, I see! Very authentic!"
Luo Binghe nodded approvingly. "This one finds comfort in tradition, Elder Wu."
Shen Yuan's internal monologue screamed. Costume?! He's a literal, honest-to-god, world-destroying demon lord! How are these people so utterly unfazed?! His brain, already operating at a snail's pace thanks to the lingering effects of artist's block, had completely short-circuited.
No way… could it be that an ancient cultivator who dressed like a historical drama extra possessed better social skills than him?! This was beyond embarrassing; it was a cosmic joke specifically tailored to mock his existence. He, Shen Yuan, a modern man with Wi-Fi and social media literacy was being thoroughly out-charmed by someone who was still perplexed by a smartphone. The sheer absurdity of it made him want to either laugh hysterically or simply curl up and vanish.
Everywhere they turned, it was the same story. Merchants, shop owners, and even random passersby seemed to recognize Luo Binghe, offering polite greetings or snippets of conversation. Luo Binghe, for his part, seemed mostly unfazed. He exchanged pleasantries, inquired about their families, and accepted extra samples with a polite, radiant smile.
People seemed completely unfazed by his flowing black robes or the very distinct, crimson mark on his forehead. Everyone simply smiled and waved. Some even referred to him as "that cosplaying fellow.” Cosplaying fellow?! So that's what they thought. It was a surprisingly effective cover story for "actual demon lord accidentally summoned to the modern world."
Still, a part of Shen Yuan was also sort of relieved. At least Luo Binghe was interacting with others normally enough – by which Shen Yuan meant not, say, accidentally freezing them solid or demanding tribute in the form of human souls.
As they navigated the bustling shopping district, Shen Yuan found himself studying Luo Binghe with renewed intensity. Now that he thought about it, he realized just how little he truly knew about this version of Luo Binghe. The Luo Binghe who’d materialized in his bedroom several weeks ago was a perplexing contrast to the vengeful, realm-conquering protagonist of the novel. The novel's Binghe was a simmering volcano of trauma and rage, a walking disaster of emotional baggage and overwhelming power. This Luo Binghe was... well, this Luo Binghe was amiably chatting up fishmongers and charming little old ladies. It was a difference so profound, it almost felt like he’d pulled a completely different character from a completely different story.
He wondered if Luo Binghe still thought of his old world at all. Did he miss it? Did he miss the grand landscapes, the epic battles, the… polygamous harem? Shen Yuan cringed slightly at that last thought. Luo Binghe had mentioned Shen Qingqiu once, but it was probably best not to pry into that particular hornet’s nest...
Suddenly, a piercing shriek sliced through the pleasant hum of chatter and commerce. Every head snapped towards the sound.
“Purse snatcher!” a woman wailed, pointing a trembling finger at a darkly clothed figure already a good distance away, clutching her purse and weaving through the startled crowd. “Somebody stop him!”
Luo Binghe looked over at Shen Yuan, his expression earnest. “Shizun, may this disciple intervene?”
Shen Yuan blinked. "Huh? I… uh, can you do it without, you know, exposing yourself as a cultivator?”
“Of course, Shizun!” Luo Binghe affirmed. "This disciple is quite adept at subtlety."
Shen Yuan hesitated, then sighed. "I guess go ahead, then. Just… try not to level the block."
Luo Binghe's face instantly lit up. He handed the shopping bag to Shen Yuan, and then took off with inhuman speed, a blurred streak of black robes, dashing down the shopping district like a heat-seeking missile aimed squarely at petty crime. Shen Yuan watched, jaw agape, a fresh wave of panic rising. Shit! He should’ve told him to hold back more! There's no way that wouldn't attract everyone’s attention!
In practically the blink of an eye, Luo Binghe reached the fleeing thief. There was a swift, elegant kick, he sent the thief sprawling to the pavement with a surprised oof. Luo Binghe bent down, plucked the woman’s purse from the thief's limp fingers, and frowned disdainfully at the prone figure before casually adjusting his robes, as if he'd merely brushed off a speck of dust.
Abruptly, Luo Binghe seemed to become aware of the hundreds of pairs of eyes now staring at him. His expression faltered, a hint of genuine worry and perhaps even fear, creeping into his perfect features as he was observed. Shen Yuan was about to rush forward, but then, all of a sudden, the crowd erupted in a cacophony of applause and cheers. People surged forward, surrounding Luo Binghe, their faces split into wide smiles.
“That was amazing!”
“You’re so strong, Binghe!”
“My hero! I can sleep soundly tonight!”
Shen Yuan was utterly astonished. He’d fully expected for everyone to break out into utter panic, perhaps even call the police on the "cosplaying menace." This was a much more welcome outcome. Luo Binghe, bombarded by genuine, unrestrained praise, sheepishly blushed, crimson spreading across his cheeks.
Eventually, Shen Yuan managed to make his way through the admiring throng. “Binghe,” he said, his voice softer than he intended. “Let’s go home.”
Without thinking, he reached out and took Luo Binghe’s hand. Luo Binghe stiffened instantly, the touch sending a jolt of genuine shock through his entire being. His face flushed a shade darker, a positive incandescent red, his eyes wide and luminous, positively delighted by the contact. They began to walk, and surprisingly, Shen Yuan didn’t let go.
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe mumbled, his voice barely audible, his gaze fixed on their joined hands. “Your hand…”
Shen Yuan didn’t say anything. Instead of letting go, he gave Luo Binghe’s hand a firm, comforting squeeze. Luo Binghe made a tiny, choked sound, an involuntary whimper of pure joy, before lowering his gaze bashfully, his mind reeling. He vividly recalled the TV program he'd seen about courtship. Holding hands! In public! His heart swelled with an almost unbearable excitement as he realized that his fantasy, the one he’d so desperately hoped for, was now, in this very moment, becoming a reality!
Shen Yuan, meanwhile, was completely oblivious to the maelstrom he’d just unleashed. Internally, he felt a particularly smug sense of accomplishment. Wow! He’d tamed the famous Luo Binghe! The formidable, world-conquering protagonist of a thousand-chapter stallion novel, who was supposed to have massacred entire sects, had been tamed by a hikikomori!