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Chapter Text

“Get out.”

Shen Yuan blinks. His eyes open up to a scene so confusing that he momentarily places a hand against the — box? Tiny room? — and steadies himself as he stares at the source of the blistering voice.

Across from him in the other seat, a man scowls, twisting his beautiful features into something so poisonous Shen Yuan can feel it leaching into the air. His green eyes are dangerously furrowed, words hidden underneath the fan he has brought up to his face. 

“Am I not allowed to see my former teacher?” A low voice drawls. “Truly, I'm wounded at your lack of hospitality,” The voice continues, a trace of amusement flicking within.

Shen Yuan’s gaze drifts to the other voice. The door to their dark, wooden carriage — Shen Yuan can deduce that much from peeking outside — is swung open, visibility blocked by the tall figure of a man somewhere Shen Yuan’s age. The similarities between the two stop there; his long hair curls gently around his soft, handsome face, worn clothes dusty but of high-quality, and a black cowboy hat remains perched on the crown of his head.

“Your mental wounds will be the least of your worries for daring to take Yue Qingyuan’s property, beast,” Shen Qingqiu seethes — oh, this is Shen Qingqiu, the scum villain of that terrible western novel he was reading! This was the former gang leader of the protagonist before abandoning him to the wilderness to pursue a life of faux-nobility with their stolen funds. Wow, his brain sure is creating a vivid scenario for him; Shen Yuan can't help but feel impressed at this level of detail.

So, the protagonist must be…

“I’m not here for Yue Qingyuan’s property, teacher,” Luo Binghe replies, a dangerous smile splayed across his face. “I'm here for what's yours.”

A hand suddenly grasps his bicep, and Shen Yuan can't help but let out a small eep! of surprise at the contact before he's forcefully ejected from the seat — thank fuck for that, because the wooden seating was making his ass go numb.

He subtly shakes out the numbness in his legs as he's dragged out into the dirt, ostentatious clothes becoming filthy as Luo Binghe forces him to follow at a punishing pace. Shen Yuan only has a split second to see the panic and wrathful anger on Shen Qingqui’s face before the door is closed by another, more nervous-looking person next to the carriage, the door locked and the key slipped into his pocket.

“You bastard, give him back! You waste of space, you brute, I should have killed you when I first found your ungrateful body in that town, open this door before I—!”

Shen Yuan doesn't hear the rest of Shen Qingqiu’s screeching threats and loud pounding as he's placed next to a black horse, its wild eyes and ear twitching as Shen Yuan is dragged closer. He only has enough time to widen his own eyes at the sight of the beautiful, dangerous horse before his hands are being tied to its saddle by a harsh rope. Figures in black hats surround both Luo Binghe and Shen Yuan, not daring to speak as their young leader expertly crafts a tight knot around Shen Yuan’s wrists.

“Nice to finally meet my teacher's mysterious twin. Shen Yuan, I presume,” Luo Binghe quietly says, a trace of amusement still found in his voice — he must be pleased by the success of his plan.

How cute, Shen Yuan doesn't croon about the most feared murderer and thief in wherever they were, because that would be super weird. Also, fuck, he's the scum villian’s brother! The canon fodder that gets killed off-screen, without even a note of what happened!

“You presume correctly. It is nice to make your acquaintance, Luo Binghe,” Shen Yuan answers through the anxious yelling in his mind, trying to speak a little more formally due to his station. He winces at a particularly rough twist to his wrists. The movement pauses, just for a second, before resuming with tenacity.

Luo Binghe finishes the final knot with a harshness that makes Shen Yuan flinch, and then he leans forward, hot breath ghosting over Shen Yuan's lips.

“Don't mock me. It will not improve your fate,” He barely whispers, warning clear in his voice. Shen Yuan barely breathes, trying not to accidentally provoke Luo Binghe’s anger, and then the protagonist climbs on the horse before Shen Yuan can blink. Shen Yuan can't help but stare at him as he holds the reins to his horse, posture straight and gaze assured as the sun sets behind his back. Truly, what a protagonist moment! 

“Xin Mo, walk,” Luo Binghe commands, lightly kicking his feet into the rambunctious horse. Shen Yuan only has a moment to remember the legendary horse’s legendary personality before they're off, forcing Shen Yuan to follow or be dragged by the rope. The pace is done just fast enough that he can't quite walk, and can't quite run; Shen Yuan mourns the future of his legs. Truly, the worst kind of torture was the treadmill his physical therapist made him use after his most recent bout of illness; he wasn't aware it would make another debut in this dream!

The rest of Luo Binghe’s gang follows behind them, and Shen Yuan can spot the key-holding one clambering up the carriage he was just in, taking the reins and forcing the horses in front to follow Luo Binghe’s pace. After a few moments, Shen Yuan notices that he's being kept in pace with the hand-sized window of the carriage, and he dares to peek to the right, hoping to spot Shen Qingqiu again.

Shen Qingqiu is staring back at him with his vivid green eyes, face wild and desperate in a way that makes Shen Yuan uncomfortable with its exposure.

Shen Yuan quickly looks back to Xin Mo and Luo Binghe, barely spotting the slight curve to Luo Binghe’s lips.

Scum villain, you are not acting like the scum villain right now! Save your face in front of the protagonist! It's not like you're the one forced to walk in the desert!

Shen Yuan huffs out a sigh, finally feeling the adrenaline wear off as they move forward. Walking in the desert, it turns out, is boring, but at least he has enough pain tolerance that he can easily ignore the strain slowly circulating around his wrists and legs. More importantly, he tries not to think about the sunburn that is studiously forming on his neck and face, despite his long hair attempting to shield the worst. The stupid author of this novel should have had the decency to invent sunscreen!

The rambling for this novel is familiar, and he lets himself pass the time by nitpicking every single detail of this dream, including the stupid mesh of Qihuan and Western clothing — Shen Yuan spots himself wearing a weird mix of silk loose pants and top that almost seem like a cross between Hanfu and frontier attire, much less practical than Luo Binghe’s leather pieces and thick boots — and the lack of geographic specifications. 

Shen Yuan peers to the left, out into the vast distance of sand. At least he has a chance of seeing some of the supernatural beasts that patrol the area; those were always his favorite aspect of the story, apart from Luo Binghe.

The horse abruptly stops, and Shen Yuan unthinkingly presses forward, stumbling into Xin Mo’s hind leg. The horse jerks, and Shen Yuan barely dodges the sudden leg attack, not wanting to finish this dream by getting kicked in the head. 

“We'll stop here for the night,” Luo Binghe proclaims, watching from his perch as the rest of his members prepare for the cold night. Shen Yuan knows he has bases — and wives — all around different towns at this point of the story, so they must be very far away from civilization; aka, soft beds and warm baths.

Shen Yuan lightly sighs at the loss of human comforts, and Luo Binghe’s gaze directly drills into his face at the noise, making Shen Yuan take an instinctive step back.

“And you, Shen Yuan,” He proclaims loud enough for Shen Qingqiu to hear, tongue savoring the name. His smile grows, and Shen Yuan shivers in what is probably fear. “You can keep Xin Mo company for the night.”

A few of the gang members chuckle in the background, and Shen Yuan feels himself grow pale. Xin Mo was a famously unstable horse, only barely controlled by Luo Binghe’s forceful hand. It had killed many others who tried to tame it, including those who simply happened to be near the walking personification of mental health issues.

Damn, no wonder Shen Yuan was killed off-screen. It would be too shameful to note how the villain’s brother was killed by a horse, of all things!

Luo Binghe hops off of Xin Mo and heads to where they're setting up camp, helping the others start up a fire and shelter for the night. Shen Yuan stares at him for a bit before gazing at his new babysitter.

“You're a very beautiful horse,” Shen Yuan whispers to Xin Mo. The horse's ear flickers, eyes suspiciously pulling down to stare at him.

“It's true!” Shen Yuan pushes, daring to get closer. “You have such a shiny, lovely coat, and your hooves are perfectly trimmed, and your tail and mane are incredibly well-kept. I've never seen a finer horse in my life.”

Xin Mo seems to stand taller at the praise, ears and body relaxing. Shen Yuan cheers as his odds of getting a kick to the head visibly decrease. It was also all facts — Xin Mo truly was the most beautiful horse Shen Yuan had ever seen.

He hears muttering and clambering in the background as people walk back and forth, and then Luo Binghe steps forward from the encroaching darkness, hand holding a single torch that flickers along his dark eyes. He isn't smiling, the intense gaze seemingly default on his expression as he peers at Shen Yuan, as if examining him under a microscope. Shen Yuan tries not to shiver or turn away from the black eyes, feeling like an insect under a pin.

“As I've said, you'll stay with Xin Mo for tonight,” Luo Binghe suddenly states. “Anyone who tries to offer you food will have their hands cut off. If you talk to your brother, your life is forfeit. If you survive the night, you will keep walking until we reach our base. There, I will decide what to do to you.”

The statements are spoken factually, not a hint of Luo Binghe’s feelings in the threats. Still, Shen Yuan knows they ring true, and he inclines his head, muscles already tiring from the promise. 

“It is as Luo Binghe says, then,” Shen Yuan demurely answers, voice raspy from a lack of water. Hey, it's not like villains had anything good happen to them when they back-talked the protagonist! Shen Yuan knows better than to tempt fate.

However, the ends of Luo Binghe’s lips twist downwards, discontentment filling in his face. Before Shen Yuan can fully panic at whatever mistake he just made, he turns away, boots thudding onto the sand as he heads towards the main camp. The light from his torch briefly illuminates the carriage on the far opposite side of Shen Yuan, and he watches Luo Binghe slowly make his way towards it.

He spots the window opening again, a scowling eye peeking out. Luo Binghe says something and then a hand (!) reaches past the small window’s opening, swiping at Luo Binghe’s face. Luo Binghe only laughs in response — Shen Yuan can't hear or see anything else as the torch moves away.

Luo Binghe’s members softly talk to each other in the background, waiting until their leader comes back to take the first taste of communal soup before digging in. Shen Yuan ignores his aching stomach at the smell of food, settling down next to Xin Mo as the horse goes quiet and still — hopefully sleeping. Someone had taken off the traveling bags attached to Xin Mo, so Shen Yuan can't even pass his boredom by rifling through them. Which was a good thing, as he didn't want to tempt Luo Binghe’s temper. Some digging on his person reveals a lace fan made of bone, which was supremely useless for his current situation. Couldn’t the original Shen Yuan take something more practical? A protein bar, for instance? Maybe a yoyo? 

“Xin Mo,” He whispers as a terrible time-killing idea settles into his head, stashing the fan. The horse huffs in response, and Shen Yuan quickly supplies, “Since you've been such a good horse, and have such perfect hair, would you let me do the honor of taking care of it for you? This lowly one is not in possession of a comb, but this one can make do with his hands.”

A pause settles, not unlike when Luo Binghe came by, and Shen Yuan dares to come closer on shaky legs. Finally, with enough courage in his heart, Shen Yuan places a hand on the rib of the horse.

Xin Mo does nothing.

Shen Yuan hurriedly sneaks in a few pets, trying not to squeal in joy at being able to pet the Xin Mo! Now he knows this is his own dream construct — this would never happen to canon fodder in Proud Immortal Cowboy Way !

He works quickly, detangling as best he can through the rough mane before separating the sections out, getting ready for a braid. He looks around, noticing the lack of things to tie them off with, and decides to reach into his shirt’s under robe to delicately pull off small strips of fabric. Shen Yuan was forced to learn how to braid from his sister's begging, so he looks upon his work with pride. 

The killer of hundreds, the slayer of leaders, the untameable beast of the night, stands in front of Shen Yuan with cute braids parted under multiple white bows. 

Ah. He may have gone a little overboard… His hands only instinctively tied off the ends of the fabric like that! 

But Xin Mo looks as pleased as a horse could be, eventually settling in as Shen Yuan sits down next to him in the dirt, hands aching from straining against the harsh rope. He gazes up at the sky out of boredom, and then of wonder. 

A canopy of stars greet him, blinking in and out of focus in the thousands. His hunger and thirst fade away as he remains mesmerized by the sight, lulled into a sense of security by the beauty of nature.

It's why he's half a second off when something clamps sharp teeth into his leg.

“What—!” Shen Yuan instinctively yells as he's being dragged, Xin Mo hurriedly following him from behind. A flicker of shadows greets the edges of Shen Yuan’s vision, and his eyes narrow as he spots wings.

The Saber-toothed Wolf-Geese!

Shen Yuan scowls at the pain, inwardly freaking out at having one of the infamously terrible species right in front of him. It was infamous because its weakness was just… grabbing it by the neck and throwing them far away.

The WeChat tirade that Peerless Cucumber had unleashed against Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky the day of the reveal had been legendary.

Without further wait, Shen Yuan grabs its neck, razor sharp teeth unleashed from his leg as its body goes limp. Shen Yuan hobbles on one limb as he readies his weapon, holding the rib of Xin Mo for support before violently spinning the Saber-toothed Wolf-Geese around, leashing it into the distance where it falls, befuddled.

Shen Yuan spots the rest of the Saber-toothed Wolf-Geese pack in the distance, gaining speed towards Luo Binghe’s camp.

Shit!

Without allowing himself to think, Shen Yuan digs his good foot into Xin Mo’s stirrup and launches onto his back.

“Xin Mo, run!” Shen Yuan commands, pushing his uninjured foot into her flank. The horse obeys, braids hurling in the wind as they push towards the campsite. 

Shen Yuan might know the beast’s weakness, but not Luo Binghe! In fact, wounds like this were precisely what got him in trouble in chapter 375, part IX, 2.0 reedited version of Proud Immortal Cowboy Way .

Sure enough, as Shen Yuan comes closer, the rest of the pack has already gotten to the base — tools and tents are knocked down as people are dragged or run out. Loud  cursing and the smoke of expensive bullets sound through the air, chaos unfurling before his eyes.

“Xin Mo!” Shen Yuan yells, spotting a tussle in the distance, faces muffled by dust. “Go!”

Xin Mo races towards them, almost giving Shen Yuan whiplash as he tears through the crowd, stamping several Saber-toothed Wolf-Geese to death under his powerful hooves. They reach the squabble, and Xin Mo takes over the reins, subduing the beasts in a few moments, leaving the rest to scatter.

“Xin Mo?” Luo Binghe confusingly exclaims. Shen Yuan can understand his confusion — Xin Mo was always purposefully tied up far away from the campsite, as he had a tendency to try and attack anything that moved, friend or foe.

Luo Binghe turns his gaze slightly upward, eyes widening. “Shen Yuan?”

He cheekily grins down at Luo Binghe, appreciating being taller for once. “Aren't you going to get on?” He can't help but smugly ask. Sue him, he feels heroic!

Luo Binghe doesn't say a word in response, flinging himself over Xin Mo, body wrapping around Shen Yuan's back

“Well,” Luo Binghe says, amusement vibrating across Shen Yuan's neck, “You take the reins, cowboy.”

Shen Yuan shivers, shaking off the sudden goosebumps with a tug at Xin Mo; but the horse is losing his patience under Shen Yuan’s treatment. Shen Yuan frowns at the view; looks like they needed to finish this quickly.

They take a fast tour of the campsite, driving out and breaking the skulls of the beasts as Luo Binghe’s arm clenches around Shen Yuan’s waist, the other arm holding a silver pistol ready for any animal that gets too close to their ankles. 

“You can also swing their neck — they go limp!” Shen Yuan shouts.

“I'll take my chances with the pistol!” Luo Binghe yells out over the hisses and yelps of pain. One of the beasts takes the distraction to attack from above, diving and widening its jaws around Luo Binghe’s head.

Shen Yuan spots it coming a second before Luo Binghe does. Before he has time to think, he grasps the neck of it as it gets an inch away from Luo Binghe’s skull, and throws it into the distance, where it stands there, stunned. 

Luo Binghe swivels around, staring at him for a split second before he turns back to the dwindling beasts. After minutes that feel like hours, they both realize that all is quiet, and Luo Binghe lowers his gun. Shen Yuan relaxes.

“Whoever isn't injured, take those who are to the main cart for treatment!” Luo Binghe barks out to those shuffling around, startling Shen Yuan. Luo Binghe holds him tighter, grip almost uncomfortable. He takes the slack reins from Shen Yuan's hands, pulling Xin Mo towards one of the unscarred tents in the corner of the campsite.

“Get off,” Luo Binghe states. Shen Yuan, pausing before he realizes the address, scrambles down. Luo Binghe frowns as he sees Shen Yuan accidently slip, hissing from landing on his leg injury. Shen Yuan tries to distract himself by petting Xin Mo with a bound hand, quietly thanking him for the assist.

Lou Binghe’s eyes drift down to his fingers entangled in the horse's mane.

“Did you put braids on Xin Mo?” Luo Binghe asks, a hint of incredulity in his voice as he stares at Shen Yuan, a questioning gaze splayed across his face. Xin Mo straightens up again, white bows spattered with hints of beast blood.

Shen Yuan flushes, the lace fan instinctively rising to hide his entire face, despite the fact that the flickering campfire must not be able to reveal much of his embarrassment. 

“...Maybe…” He mumbles out, hands tightly gripping the polished bone. Shen Yuan gains the courage to lower the fan a little, bracing himself for a thunderous expression.

Instead, Luo Binghe’s expression is something Shen Yuan is not expecting to see. The soft parting of his lips, the surprise and mirth in his eyes, and the softness of his lidded gaze roots Shen Yuan in place, not daring to lower the fan past the bridge of his nose. 

“Well,” Luo Binghe begins, then pauses, as if lacking words. “I. I have medicine in my bag.”

“Hm?” Shen Yuan questions, unsure of what the statement was referring to.

“In my tent,” Luo Binghe starts, voice now a familiar cadence, “I have a medical bag. Inside is an ointment for your leg injury.”

“Oh. Alright,”  Shen Yuan easily answers. There's an awkward moment where they both look at his bound hands, and then the tent, and Luo Binghe draws the rope taunt with one hand while the other substitutes his gun with a knife.

“You won't run from me?” He gruffly asks, accent deepening as he stares at Shen Yuan. He frantically nods. Luo Binghe severes the cord, dropping down from Xin Mo to undo the ones next to his wrists. 

“I also have medicine for these,” He continues, hands lightly touching Shen Yuan’s raw wrists, not pulling away as they flinch.

Shen Yuan tugs at Luo Binghe’s touch, ignoring the feeling of what was probably a post-adrenaline trembling in his stomach. “Great! That's good to know,” He lamely answers, shuffling inside the propped tent. It's larger than it looks on the outside, wide enough for two grown men to stretch out their arms and back.

The filter of the moon and campfire illuminate the space just enough for Shen Yuan to spot a large bed roll to the side and a few bags thrown into the corner. Luo Binghe moves past him, kneeling down to open his bag.

“Shen Yuan, please take a seat,” He gestures to the bed roll next to the bag. Shen Yuan follows his suggestion, carefully taking off his dirty outer robe and lowering himself down until only his injured leg is propped up to Luo Binghe’s line of sight.

Luo Binghe turns around, staring at Shen Yuan lying on his bed, hands white-knuckled around the vial of medicine. Shen Yuan looks at the vial with trepidation, worried at the unjust beating that medication is taking.

“Can I remove your shoes? I need to clean out the wounds,” Luo Binghe states, kneeling down next to Shen Yuan, startling him away from his thoughts.

“Oh! Sure, that's probably wise.”

Luo Binghe’s gaze doesn't break from Shen Yuan as he slowly takes off his socks, carefully pulling away the pant’s silk fabric around the bloody injury.

Shen Yuan turns away from the sight, trying not to think about how this was an exact scenario for Wife #18, chapter 55 of part IV, and how much Luo Binghe was into it. Good thing Luo Binghe isn't attracted to men, or this fact would have increased the awkward butterflies in Shen Yuan's stomach.

He feels fingers pause at the edge of his ankle, making Shen Yuan itch with a tingling sensation. "Your leg's underrobe is torn...?" Luo Binghe questions, voice low.

Shen Yuan moves his eyes away, embarrassed more at how his flushes are betraying him than the answer to the question. "I didn't have fabric for Xin Mo's bows, so I used—"

"Your silk underrobe? You ripped a two hundred dollar piece of clothing for Xin Mo?"

A short pause ensues as Shen Yuan tries to curl up into a ball and float off into space. Then, Shen Yuan hears the most beautiful laughter of his entire life.

"Don't laugh at me!" Shen Yuan suddenly cries, feeling indigent as he reaches over, trying to smack Luo Binghe with his fan.

"I yeild, I yield!" Luo Binghe mockingly pleads, letting out a final chuckle as Shen Yuan retracts his hand. "Am I allowed to go back to treating you, now?" He asks, gesturing with his hand to the wound.

Shen Yuan huffs. "I will grant it to you."

Luo Binghe gives him a mocking bow, returning to his work. “Since you're here, you should stay the night,” Luo Binghe says, dabbing the wounds with an ointment that gimmers like pearls. The suddenness of a cooling sensation hits, pulling a hiss from his mouth.

Shen Yuan turns to face Luo Binghe, surprise fluttering his insides. “What? I get to sleep in a tent?” He answers, slowly growing excited over the prospect of sleeping in a bed! Okay, it's more of a camping roll with an attached roommate, but it's a hell of a lot better than dirt with a murderous horse!

Luo Binghe slowly nods, turning to put away the medication. “If you wish.”

Shen Yuan immediately makes himself comfortable, snuggling into the fabric as much as he can. “Goodnight!” He cheerfully announces into the darkness. A pause follows, then the sound of shifting, before Shen Yuan feels warmth emanating in the space behind him.

“You do not wish to do more than sleep?” Luo Binghe purrs, coming close enough that Shen Yuan can barely feel a hot breath against his neck.

Do more? Shen Yuan frowns. Like a midnight adventure? No way, he's absolutely ready to fall asleep right now.

“No more than sleep,” Shen Yuan affirms, putting his metaphorical foot down. His actual foot accidentally knocks up against Luo Binghe’s shin at the statement, making them both freeze.

Luo Binghe relaxes first. “Alright,” He answers, moving a bit further away. “Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself, to pass the time.”

And just with those few words, wariness replaces his need for sleep. “I—”

“What were you and your brother traveling to?” Luo Binghe asks. Sheesh, give a guy a break! Can’t an interrogation wait until tomorrow? 

Shen Yuan lightly clears his throat, turning to face him. “I believe we were to attend a gathering of nobility for Shen Qingqiu’s reception into the Yue clan,” He answers, mentally tracking and guessing the plot point in the novel.

“And you, by extension.”

“I believe that is how weddings work when you’re related to the groom, yes,” Shen Yuan snipes back. Luo Binghe huffs out a small laugh, thankfully not taking it personally.

“You're so different from your twin. Why would he be accepted into a marriage proposition… unless he didn't want you to ever be someone's match?” Luo Binghe murmurs, as if to himself. A lock of Shen Yuan's hair is suddenly trapped beneath Luo Binghe’s fingers, twirled around playfully. “Tell me, Shen Yuan, have you always had such lovely hair?”

Shen Yuan feels himself flush all the way to his toes. What was with this sudden flattery! Only horses and future wives received such compliments! Is he also a horse to Luo Binghe?! 

“I… think so,” He murmurs, fiercely wishing for the comfort of his fan. “I. Like your hair too,” He fumbles out, instantly flinching at the awkward compliment. Abort! Abort it!

Luo Binghe leans forward like a dog begging for pets, a gleam in his eyes. “You do? You do like my hair?” He asks, a teasing note in his voice. “Do you want to make me look pretty like Xin Mo-shimei?”

The mental image of Luo Binghe in crude braids with white bows forces a loud chuckle from Shen Yuan’s mouth, the suddenness of his laughter turning into an all-out guffle at the absurdity of his situation.

Luo Bing-mei! Trussed up like his horse!

Luo Binghe is now grinning wildly, the pearls of his perfect teeth reflecting off of the soft light as he worms his way into Shen Yuan’s space.

“Stop it, I'm too tired to laugh!” Shen Yuan abruptly says, stifling his giggles as he hides his eyes from Luo Binghe’s boyish gaze. Only when he feels more in control does he dare to peek out from his fingers. Suddenly, Luo Binghe reaches closer, as if to touch his face, and then pulls away.

“I forgot the medicine for your wrists,” Luo Binghe exclaims, shifting. “Here, let me—”

“It's fine,” Shen Yuan hastily answers, pulling Luo Binghe’s hand back from where it outstretched towards the bag. “I'm fine. Really.”

Luo Binghe’s black gaze settles on Shen Yuan’s shadowed visage. He notices that his hands are warmer than Shen Yuan's.

“Alright,” He readily agrees, moving back to laying under the blanket. “I'll see you in the morning, then.”

“See you in the morning,” Shen Yuan softly answers.

He closes his eyes, feeling the brush of Luo Binghe’s fingers against his own.

Shen Yuan wakes up the next morning and blinks.

Huh. He's…

He checks the space around him — hard bed roll, a cooling space beside him, and a bag tucked into a corner of fabric.

Yep. He's still dreaming… despite definitely feeling like he fell asleep last night… and everything still feels very real.

Shen Yuan frowns at the sinking feeling that maybe, just maybe, there's a chance he isn't dreaming.

He shrugs to himself, pulling on his outer robe and stepping outside. Nothing he can do about that now, so he'll pack it in his favorite mental ‘Forget This Forever!’ box and dust off his hands. It always works like a charm. 

He follows his nose, haggling with a nervous-looking man tending the breakfast fire for some jerky and miso soup, electing not to tell him about the ‘If anybody feeds you, I’ll cut off their hands’ speech Luo Binghe was talking about. 

“Shang Qinghua, hurry up! You forgot to feed the horses again!” A voice yells out.

With a sigh, Luo Binghe’s fidgety henchman excuses himself from Shen Yuan’s company, hurrying off into the distance. Ah, the life of canon fodder is too cruel. 

“Shen Yuan.”

Shen Yuan perks up, mouth halfway to his breakfast jerky. Luo Binghe is situated on Xin Mo, staring down at him as the sun rises with a smile; Shen Yuan valiantly does not stare at his dimples. “You will ride with me as thanks for taking care of my issue last night, and due to your injury,” He loudly states.

"Oh. Uh, sure,” Shen Yuan replies, blinking. “I mean, thank you, it was no trouble,” He hurriedly adds, slightly bowing his head. If he has to lay it on thick to avoid walking again, so be it!

Instantly, a slew of curses and noises rattle from the carriage a few feet next to them. Shen Yuan jumps, guiltily forgetting all about the inhabitant that was kept in last night. Then he remembers everything that Shen Qingqiu canonically did to Luo Binghe and promptly forgets his guilt.

Shen Yuan awkwardly turns away from the noise, and Luo Binghe’s smile deepens, almost dazzling in its radiance. Quick! Someone snuff that out before it blinds him!

Luo Binghe extends a hand from atop of Xin Mo, and Shen Yuan takes it, pulling himself into Luo Binghe’s arms and forgetting the salty breakfast as Shen Qingqiu’s voice curses the protagonist in the background.

“You settled?”

Shen Yuan nods into Luo Binghe’s back, feeling strangely happy at the feel of his arms around the sturdy torso. “Yes, I'm settled,” He whispers into Luo Binghe’s ear, enjoying the way he sees goosebumps break out from the skin.

“Xin Mo, walk.”

Chapter Text

Luo Binghe has no idea what is going on.

One moment, he's ready to enact his rightful revenge against his terrible, worthless excuse of someone he thought was his teacher, practically his father—

He takes in a breath and exhales out the long-held fumes of anger and grief, forcing his pulse to slow before continuing his thoughts.

Luo Binghe felt a delicious satisfaction with the widening of his former teacher’s eyes as he grabs the oh-so mysterious twin brother, his inexistence upheld if only Shen Qingqiu had kept word of his past a little tighter around the lips. He forces Shen Qingqiu to watch as his brother is humiliated, as Luo Binghe dangles his fate before those venomous green eyes. The confirmation that his teacher has the ability to hold something without breaking it, the value he places on the object that was so tightly shrouded in secrecy, it cannot be denied by the vicious way he slams his body across the locked door of the carriage, sharp threats hurdling past the frame. Even when Shen Qingqiu was at his most angry, his most vicious towards Luo Binghe’s small, weak frame, he never debased himself at this level, like a wild street child thrown in a cage.

Luo Binghe keeps this fact tied close to his chest, purring in contentment at the way he has made his former teacher lose composure. He thumbs the wound deeper, quickly deciding to turn this treasured object into mud by dragging him behind Xin Mo, keeping in pace with Shen Qingqiu’s eyes.

This satisfaction is short-lived when he sees a version of Shen Qingqiu’s eyes softly following his own and humble words falling out of lips that had only ever scorned him in his mind.

Shen Yuan, Luo Binghe thinks, eyes tracking the figure behind Xin Mo, feet stumbling on their travel due to his inappropriate footwear without complaint, You are the very opposite of what I expected.

The lack of understanding chafes at him, mocking his thoughts as he rode Xin Mo to their next resting place.

Did he expect the brother to be a better person than Shen Qingqiu? Absolutely — many people, by contrast, were capable of a small façade of decency, of politeness, of falling for social niceties to achieve what they wished.

But no one who touches Shen Qingqiu’s orbit remains unscathed. Like a fungus, he grows, ruthlessly severing the dignity, self-control, or life of every man he has come across in his pursuit of gold and power. Luo Binghe was expecting a simpering brother, a harsh man, a greedy little vermin that would spit on his clothes and curse his bloodline for daring to dirty his expensive robes.

He is not expecting a confident man who can easily accept a terrible fate. He is not expecting a savior on Xin Mo, taming an untamable beast, of delicate hands carding through one of Luo Binghe’s companions to create something beautiful. Of peels of laughter and quick wit to brush against his own, of a body and expression that is immediately trusting and kind and beautiful in it's authenticity.

He is not expecting Shen Yuan.

And Luo Binghe wants. For a sudden, delirious moment, he feels a foreign connection to his teacher as he gazes at Shen Yuan’s hand, fingers only barely grazing the edges of soft skin as he sleeps after the chaos of the saber-toothed wolf-geese attack. It is not as if Luo Binghe is inexperienced on matters of the flesh, of what two men can do to each other under the comfort of a tent, but this knowledge never prepared him for the electricity that follows his spine as he touches the torn edges of a silk — two hundred dollars, more than most will make in their lives and children's lives — underrobe. Even the simple laughter coming out of Shen Yuan’s cherry lips makes him want to devour, to consume them both whole with a ferociousness that frightens even a man such as Luo Binghe, used to the hungry sway of his whims.

He doesn't know if he even wants Shen Yuan, or if he wants Shen Qingqiu, or if he wants a lie of maternal comfort to hold him through a dreamless sleep.

He simply wants.

He splays his hand across Shen Yuan’s hands where they're tight around his stomach, feeling Shen Yuan’s breath hitch across his neck as he sighs with some hidden thought while they travel north.

Luo Binghe’s lips twist with mirth.

On this, he understands Shen Qingqiu.

Luo Binghe will do everything in his power to keep Shen Yuan only by his side.

A quick glance at Shen Yuan confirms he's distracted at their newest stop — Luo Binghe had subtlety suggested that Xin Mo’s mane has come undone from his braid, and Shen Yuan immediately jumped into mother-henning the horse, cooing soft phrases to it that Luo Binghe does not wish was said to him instead.

He won't become jealous of a smug horse. He simply refuses.

“Shang Qinghua.”

His fourth in command jerks from his position on top of the carriage, slowly taking out the finger that was attempting to dig into his ear. “Yes, boss?”

“I'd like to have a private conversation with our guest,” Luo Binghe commands, face relaxed and smile ready.

Shang Qinghua doesn't relax at his easy composure and gentle words; his good instincts are one of the better qualities that Luo Binghe appreciates about him. “I have zero problems with that,” He quickly answers, immediately climbing off to walk as far away from the carriage as possible. Luo Binghe is sure he doesn't envy spending more time around Shen Qingqiu.

Speaking of — Luo Binghe is more than aware that Shen Qingqiu can hear them, but he's refusing to open the hand-sized window in the carriage. Cute.

Luo Binghe lets his smile turn a little deeper, the itch in his bones flaring for another fight as he stays an arm's length away from the opening. This is a game where the first one to lose face loses everything, and Luo Binghe is nothing if not competitive.

“Teacher — Shizun,” He croons. “Don't you wish to speak to me? You've always had words for my behavior. I'm sure you still have more.”

The window remains stubbornly shut.

“Don't you wish to negotiate for your brother's release?” He needles.

The window opens.

“I won't negotiate with scum.”

The circles around Shen Qingqiu’s eyes betray his discomfort, brow furrowed and skin a shade too pale. Even still, his face shows the calculations in his gaze, irises flickering over Luo Binghe’s every move.

Luo Binghe’s smile widens.

“I could drop him off at the nearest town — one of my ‘wives’ will take care of him,” He continues. “You know what I want in return.”

The scowl deepens, but Luo Binghe senses that his emotions are muted; whether for self-protection, or exhaustion, Luo Binghe can't tell. He sees a delicate hand waft a fan in the carriage, Shen Qingqiu’s mind churning as a pause settles.

“I’ll convince my fool of a fiancé to take the land deal and provide recompense,” Shen Qingqiu suddenly answers. “If,” He continues before Luo Binghe can react, “You take that—” He points to a particularly large cactus in the distance, “And directly shove it within yourself.”

Luo Binghe’s eye twitches. Shen Qingqiu leans backwards, evidently satisfied with his counter.

“I'm not a fool. I know what you wish to do to me, however I answer,” Shen Qingqiu accurately points out, eyes piercing him above the fan. His frown deepens, almost surprising Luo Binghe at the way the hatred in his eyes suddenly grows. “And I know what you wish to do to my brother, vermin,” He spits, “You're all the same. All of you, you're all the same,” He pushes out, as if it was dragged out of his soul, voice trembling with hatred. “I won't waste my breath with threats if you put your disgusting hands on him. You know I will kill you like the dog that you are, without remorse, without a plea deal, and without hesitation.”

He moves to close the window. Luo Binghe speaks quickly. “Haven’t you noticed that he doesn't even want to look at you?” He knowingly coos, angling his body so Shen Qingqiu has an unobstructed view of his brother fiddling with Xin Mo’s saddles, face relaxed and smile tender. “Don't you think he'd be safer and happier under my protection? After all, Yue Qingyuan failed to protect Shen Yuan. You failed to protect Shen Yuan.”

Shen Qingqiu doesn't answer, hand trembling around the base of the fan. If looks could kill, Luo Binghe would be a scattered pile of ash and bones.

“I'll leave you with something to stave off your untimely death,” He half-heartedly states at the heavy silence, throwing a spare waterskin and hardtacks into the window, not bothering to see if his former teacher has caught them. 

Luo Binghe walks away. 

Somehow, he doesn't feel as if he's won the conversation.

“Cang Qiong Mountain.”

Shen Yuan jerks back from examining a peculiar purple bush on the ground, looking up from his crouch. “Hm?”

Luo Binghe sits down next to him, feeling something in his soul settle at the proximity. “The Peaks. Have you seen them before? I feel as if you would appreciate their diverse botany.”

He sees thoughts fluttering through Shen Yuan’s eyes, mouth moving as they settle. Interesting — a question like that shouldn't have created such a long pre-response. “No, I haven't,” He cautiously answers. “What are they like?”

Luo Binghe’s smile grows flat, eyes tightening. “Beautiful. It's full of lush vegetation, animals, and rushing water. You would like it. It's as if paradise came on earth,” A rotten paradise, full of pain, misery, starvation, tears, humiliation—

Shen Yuan stares at him, eyes knowing, and Luo Binghe quickly tucks his memories in the far corner of his mind. He'll need to be cautious about Shen Yuan’s observant tendencies. 

“I joined your brother's gang when I was very young. They were occupying the land illegally back then, of course, but I wasn't aware until later. I had assumed they were a—,” A quirk of his lips, “A righteous group. Once I was picked off the streets, it was too late, and I couldn't leave. Where would I go? Cang Qiong’s nature was my only solace.”

He turns to look at the unmoving figure next to him, eyes focused on his every word. Luo Binghe’s mind quiets to a slow simmer, words lowering as he asks the question that has been plaguing him since he met this elusive, bizarre individual.

“Do you know what your brother has done, Shen Yuan? To me, and to others?” He leans closer. “Do you know who I am? What I've done, and what I want?”

Silence settles. Luo Binghe lets him gather his words.

“I believe,” Shen Yuan carefully begins, “That you've been treated unfairly by him, as have many others,” Shen Yuan's gaze tracks Luo Binghe’s face, searching for something with such inquisitiveness that Luo Binghe resists the uncharacteristic urge to hide. “I think you're a man who holds himself to a high standard, as you do to many others. I think I know what you want, but one should never assume,” He demurely finishes. 

“And what do I want?” He asks. “I don't mind your answers.”

Shen Yuan stares back at the plant, not meeting Luo Binghe’s gaze. “Land. Power. Women.”

Luo Binghe is so used to people dancing around words, of hidden barbs and subtle synonyms, that the blunt statement slaps him in surprise, eyes widening.

Instinctively, the child inside of him pushes, spitting in rage at the brutal honesty. The more experienced part of Luo Binghe holds the words close, examining them under dim light, scrutinizing them for any fault.

In the end, he decides not to answer. 

“Do you think it is wrong, to want such things in this world?” He questions, refusing to concede defeat and run with his tail between his legs. 

No, Shen Yuan is not like Shen Qingqiu. He may be something worse, for a person such as Luo Binghe.

“I believe,” Shen Yuan answers with that caution in his voice that Luo Binghe wants to break. “It is better to ask if these things will bring you the peace that you seek.”

Luo Binghe freezes, unsure if he should fight or flee the sudden twist in the conversation. 

His face turns back to the crew setting up camp for the night as he ruminates — their faces are haggard from travelling, expressions focused, but some are joking with each other, laughter softening the harshness of life in the face of comradery. 

Luo Binghe might have to reevaluate the thought that Shen Yuan was weaker than Shen Qingqiu. Instead of a flood to overwhelm, Shen Yuan seems to prefer striking at the moment of vulnerability, rattling Luo Binghe’s cage like no one else has been able to in a long, long while.

“Of course they will,” He roughly  answers, if only to witness Shen Yuan’s reaction to the overconfident words.

Shen Yuan doesn't blink. “Just as they've brought peace to my brother?”

Luo Binghe huffs out a small, bitter laugh. He looks Shen Yuan up and down, reevaluating his view of the man.

Luo Binghe will not underestimate Shen Yuan again.

“And what do you want, Shen Yuan?”

Shen Yuan’s face grows teasing, a shy smile slipping on his face, thankfully erasing the sober expression. “Can't I just want to stay by your side? And Xin Mo’s?”

Luo Binghe’s mind blanks. 

A satisfaction, new and fathomless, blooms in Luo Binghe’s stomach. 

This man is going to drive Luo Binghe to madness.

Luo Binghe smiles at Shen Yuan — a real one, crooked and imperfect. “Well, you forgot to mention something else that I want,” He teases back, brushing off the dirt as he stands.

Shen Yuan perks up, turning to follow. “What? What did I forget?”

Luo Binghe hurries further, making a game of walking faster than Shen Yuan can keep up until they're almost at a jog, Shen Yuan quickly catching on to the little game he's playing.

He doesn't go too quickly, mindful of Shen Yuan’s healing injury. He turns to look behind him, finding thrill on the other's face.

“Aren't you going to tell me?!” Shen Yuan yells, already breathing heavily from their sprint.

“Only if you catch me!” Luo Binghe loudly teases over the wind, rushing towards the opening of his tent, ignoring the questioning faces of his group. Shen Yuan stumbles in a few seconds later, hair beautifully windswept and face flushed.

“Well?” Shen Yuan demands, huffing as he stands in Luo Binghe’s tent. “What's this thing you've made me earn?”

Luo Binghe leans in before he can talk himself out of the idea, lips finding Shen Yuan's and hands pulling up to find his beautiful face. His lips are soft, body warm from where it presses against Luo Binghe. 

Shen Yuan freezes, turning to ice under his hold.

Alarmed, Luo Binghe pulls back, eyes frantically searching the space and Shen Yuan’s face. Surely, Shen Yuan simply saw something in the background that startled him. Surely, Luo Binghe isn't being rejected by the overly flirtatious man—

Shen Yuan pushes against him, breaking them apart, eyes wild.

Luo Binghe can only stand there, stunned.

“I— I—” Shen Yuan stutters, moving backward, “What?!”

“I want you, Shen Yuan,” Luo Binghe emptily states, feeling something crumbling inside of him. “I—”

“You don't want me!” Shen Yuan states, voice high and cracking. “You— you have wives!”

Luo Binghe instantly relaxes. Oh, was that the only issue? “I call them my wives for their protection,” He patiently explains, “They're paid to manage my bases in my stead; you can think of them as overseers, if you like. I usually have a quick marriage ceremony for those who are not legally allowed to own or enter businesses due to their gender. A marriage certificate opens many doors for them; it is strictly business — it means nothing to me,” He quickly affirms.

“But—! But you've probably slept with most of them!”

“Well, I've never claimed to be a priest,” He amusingly answers. “Unless you prefer that type of pretend-play,” He can't help but tease. He takes a chance, stepping closer, arms holding the outer edges of Shen Yuan’s arm. “Did you already forget what you said, when I asked what you wanted? Are you taking it back so quickly?” He murmurs, breath ghosting along Shen Yuan’s ear. “Do you hate me?” He whispers, slowly pushing back a stray lock of hair on Shen Yuan’s neck, feeling his pulse beat faster, his body unfolding so easily under Luo Binghe’s touch. This, at least, he knows is truthful. 

“I—” The stumbling continues, now sparking something soft in Luo Binghe. He’s genuinely rattled the man; he'll have to be gentle. “I don't hate you,” Shen Yuan finishes, obviously struggling for words.

Luo Binghe doesn't help him find them — the urge to devour rises as the flush stays on Shen Yuan’s face, his pupils dilating, his sweet mouth parted and red from Luo Binghe’s brief administrations.

Luo Binghe pushes his face into the crook of Shen Yuan’s shoulder, immediately redirecting the urge to bite by licking a long stripe across that markless neck, feeling the delicious trembling under his tongue. Still, Shen Yuan says nothing, so Luo Binghe retreats, feeling his control start to slip under the hot feeling of blood and skin and Shen Yuan’s sweat under him, tantalizingly out of reach.

Patience, he tells himself, peeling back, body aching for more. “I apologize for my boldness, but not for my feelings towards you,” He announces, attempting to catch Shen Yuan’s focus. “If you would like, I would still very much prefer if you spent the night in my tent, rather than outside. Nothing will happen without your blessing.”

Shen Yuan deliberates, eyes still wide and mouth still parted. Luo Binghe looks away before he breaks.

“Okay,” Shen Yuan breathes out. Luo Binghe’s shoulders unwind from their tense hold.

“Okay,” Luo Binghe repeats. “Okay.”

As if calming a nervous horse, Luo Binghe moves slowly, facing away from Shen Yuan as he takes off his dirty, outer clothes and sets up their bed roll. After a pause, Shen Yuan does the same, similarly turning away from Luo Binghe, unlike the first night they slept next to each other.

Patience, Luo Binghe repeats. 

He waits for Shen Yuan to settle himself on the pseudo-bed before joining, his back pressed against the end of the fabric.

They stay that way for a few moments, hyperconscious of each other's presence. The rays of the moon do not breach past the night's clouds, and the campfire remains low — the blanket of night only serves to make Luo Binghe more tense and more aware of his breathing.

“Aren't you curious?” 

The sentence rips out of him, lacking in asking for his consent. 

“Hm?” Shen Yuan sleepily mumbles. Luo Binghe resists the urge to move closer to him.

“Aren't you curious how I knew about your existence? Your brother never spoke about you. Not once during the years I knew him — not even a reference.” 

A pause settles in the darkness. If Shen Yuan is upset by his phrasing, he doesn't show it. “I assumed through rumors,” Shen Yuan murmurs, not daring to break the peace that has settled. Luo Binghe wishes he would stop being so polite, sometimes; but he can't deny that teasing out answers from the elusive man provides its own satisfactory thrill. 

“He holds ledgers in multiple locations. By luck and work, I came across a few of them, and I found consistent payments made to you. Seeing as you share a name and a sketch of your face was provided to me, I felt comfortable assuming him as your relative,” Luo Binghe corrects, “I know your brother paid for your boarding school and university throughout the years I was under his tender care, according to his closely-guarded accounts,” Luo Binghe continues, staring at the space where Shen Yuan’s face lies. “What struck me, however, is that Shen Qingqiu never gifts money or effort to others. So why would he hoard the wealth others made for him, just to give it away to…” His voice trails off, fingers finding and picking up a stray lock of Shen Yuan’s hair, bringing it closer to his lips. Shen Yuan remains silent, his silence betraying thoughts that Luo Binghe is not privy to. The thought makes his teeth ache. 

“How did he treat you?” Luo Binghe rashly asks, feeling impulsive, something needy leaking into his voice that he hates. “Growing up. How did Shen Qingqiu treat you?” 

A hesitation. Brief, but palpable. “He was…” Luo Binghe hears a lick of Shen Yuan’s lips, “He was… I don't…” He stumbles, failing to grasp his words.

The nervousness in Shen Yuan’s voice suddenly causes everything to click. The avoidance of Shen Qingqiu’s stares, the trust under Luo Binghe’s care, the hesitation in his voice over discussing their past. Not once has Shen Yuan bargained for his brother's release.

Shen Yuan, warm and soft and kind. Shen Qingqiu, his counterpart, cold and hard and sneering.

Luo Binghe shouldn't have pushed — he berates himself at the obviousness of his question, of his tremendous social faux pas. Of course Shen Qingqiu cannot be something different than what Luo Binghe himself has experienced; the funds must have been his backup for Shen Yuan to become just another additional source of income and power, securely under his thumb.

Luo Binghe shuffles closer, daring to put a hand over Shen Yuan’s rib. He feels the other's breath hitch. 

“You don't need to speak about it,” Luo Binghe whispers. “I understand.”

Shen Yuan relaxes. “Thank you,” Shen Yuan mutters, voice betraying too much and too little of his thoughts.

Luo Binghe starts to pull the comforting touch away, but Shen Yuan grabs it, saying nothing. Unwarranted, Luo Binghe’s heart painfully thuds in his chest at the acceptance, of familiar hands holding him so gently.

If this is a plan concocted by the twins, if Shen Yuan is so masterful as to capture his trust and lust and obsession and tenderness within a few days, then Luo Binghe will let them. He doesn't care as long as he has Shen Yuan in his arms for a while, as long as the ghosts of his past rest underneath the white and green robes next to him.

Luo Binghe now knows what he wants, and he will keep it next to him, no matter the cost.

The minutes are greedily spent like this — Luo Binghe, awake, feeling Shen Yuan’s heat under his hand. Shen Yuan, awake, slowly relaxing as he feels Luo Binghe’s heartbeat against his back.

Luo Binghe’s eyes start to drift. It's perfect. This moment, this man — it's all Luo Binghe needs.

Shen Yuan suddenly jolts up, accidentally smacking Luo Binghe in the face.

“ Oof —? Hey—”

“There's something outside the tent.”

Luo Binghe swivels around, peering up at Shen Yuan’s side of the room. Sure enough, a large shadow is cast over the edges, an animalistic grunting noise heard over the sounds of local wildlife.

Deadpan, Luo Binghe states, “I know that shadow. It's Xin Mo. Stay here.”

Shen Yuan perks up. “Xin Mo?”

Luo Binghe scowls to himself, holding Shen Yuan still so he doesn't turn to see the expression. “Stay. Here. I'll deal with the scoundrel.”

Shen Yuan tries to stand, but Luo Binghe gently pushes him back, enjoying the sight of Shen Yuan splayed on his bed, despite the newly-formed scowl.

“I'm not a blushing maiden,” Shen Yuan grumbles. “I can help!”

Luo Binghe says nothing to that, merely putting on his boots and slipping out of the opening.

Thankfully, Shen Yuan doesn't follow, despite his pouting. Unthankfully, his suspicions were correct.

A seven foot tall black stallion with a set of braids topped with silk bows glares at him from the tent, eyes glittering.

“Xin Mo, leave,” He hisses at the horse.

Xin Mo huffs, hoof stomping in the dirt. They stare at each other, similar eyes competing for a battle of wills.

Luo Binghe keeps his stance, hands aching for every second he is kept away from Shen Yuan.

“I don't have time for your games,” He hisses, “Go back to the edge of camp. Do you want me to tie you to the middle of a cactus field, again?”

Xin Mo stays in position, unmoved.

“I’ll give you treats if you leave,” Luo Binghe bluntly haggles, arms crossed.

Xin Mo remains unmoved.

Luo Binghe stomps closer. “Listen here,” He glares, resisting the urge to grab the horse's ear. He spots Shang Qinghua peeking out of his tent before hastily going back in after a half-second of awkward eye contact. Luo Binghe lowers his voice, “Shen Yuan is busy. He can't brush your hair tonight. Leave.”

Xin Mo’s ears twitch threateningly.

Luo Binghe’s hand follows the outline of a box he grabbed as he left the tent, deliberately rattling the contents. He sees Xin Mo tracking it, pressing forward.

“No,” Luo Binghe commands, pulling back his arm. “You won't receive any sugar cubes until you've settled at the edge of camp.”

Xin Mo huffs, nostrils flaring, ears twitching. His tail swishes for a moment.

But a horse's temperament is slightly worse than Luo Binghe’s, and Xin Mo abandons his initial task in favor of trotting off just past the campsite, looking back as if to say, “There, are you happy? Give me what I was promised.”

Luo Binghe nods in approval, opening the box and digging out a cube to throw it towards the horse, who catches it in his mouth with expert precision. Luo Binghe starts to turn back, pleased at winning, but he then spots Xin Mo walking right back towards Luo Binghe — Luo Binghe’s tent. Where Shen Yuan is.

They stare at each other. One dark pair of eyes is smug, the other full of annoyance.

Luo Binghe turns back to the tent, deciding to ignore the issue. He'll only debase his pride by attempting to push the horse away. Again.

“Did you resolve your argument?” Shen Yuan teasingly asks as he enters. Nauseatingly, Luo Binghe realizes he heard everything. “Should I go out to check if Xin Mo is still there?”

Luo Binghe simply grunts, pulling him close as Shen Yuan chuckles. 

Luo Binghe will not lose to a horse.

Shen Jiu knows exactly what is going on.

Obviously, Shen Yuan is attempting to curb Luo Binghe’s ire against him through the lack of contact. Shen Yuan knows how clumsy he is, and that's why he hasn't attempted any secret conversations under the cover of night. Obviously, Luo Binghe has commanded him to never speak to his brother, to flinch and ignore the very sight of him through the detestable hand-sized window of the carriage.

Any other explanation is completely insufficient and illogical. 

The idea that Shen Yuan would abandon his brother to rot, not even pleading on behalf of him for additional food and water, gallivanting under the body of Luo Binghe by his own choice, ignoring Shen Jiu at the first sign of someone who can care for him despite all that he has sacrificed, that two people would abandon him to this fate once again…!

Shen Jiu grits his teeth, pushing past the sharp stench of panic and grief as stares at the dark, ornate ceiling of his cage. 

No . It's not true. It's impossible. This is all part of Shen Yuan's plan. 

…

But if it is true… 

He turns to stare out the small window, stars glittering, sky tantalizingly out of reach. From a mixture of boredom and cautiousness, he reaches over, checking the floorboard of his prison until his hands grasp his goal.

Shen Jiu examines the retrieved gun with detached interest, rechecking the bullets and compartments for functionality.

His hold tightens, fingers going white as they grip the outer edge of the polished trigger.

One more day before they reach Luo Binghe’s base.