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Luo Binghe’s day is almost perfect.
It starts early; he wakes before dawn and spends half a shi watching his shizun sleep. Then he gets up and makes Shen Qingqiu’s favourite breakfast in the well-appointed kitchen; after all this time, the Qing Jing disciples have finally learned to keep it stocked to Binghe’s tastes, although naturally he finds himself correcting their organisational choices. He wakes his husband with gentle kisses, first to his forehead, then his lips, and then to other parts of his anatomy. By the time Shen Qingqiu is truly awake, they have each consumed their first meal of the day, and Binge will acknowledge he is feeling a little smug as he presents his shizun with their second.
Binghe tidies up the bamboo house while Shen Qingqiu attends to the correspondence that has accumulated in his absence. Watching him always delights Binghe, but in particular the way his shizun sifts through his mail is a treasure. He tosses letters from Yue Qingyuan and Shang Qinghua into a waiting basket, muttering, “Junk… junk… junk…” as each one leaves his hand. Binghe is sure his shizun doesn’t know he’s doing this; it seems to be one of the curious habits of his far distant hometown, and any allusion to it makes Shen Qingqiu close off like a startled clam. That only makes the moment all the more precious.
When Binghe is sated – temporarily, at least – he finishes his tidying, and starts whipping together a light midday meal while his shizun attends to correspondence. They take their lunch in the bamboo grove, enjoying the sunshine and the wind in their hair. Binghe even convinces his shizun to allow him to service him there, in the secluded woods, where anyone might happen upon them. Shen Qingqiu puts up a token protest, but when Binghe backs off, he looks so utterly bereft that Binghe has no choice but to attend to him at once.
The day almost takes a turn after lunch. Shen Qingqiu steps away to handle some queries from the hall masters regarding the music curriculum while Binghe clears away the dishes from their meal. The hair on the back of his neck prickles just before his ears catch the sound of space tearing, and by the time Mobei-jun has stepped onto Qing Jing Peak, Binghe is already standing before him, arms folded, unimpressed.
“Junshang,” Mobei-jun says, as glacial as ever.
“I’m not in the mood, Mobei,” Binghe says. “Whatever it is, go bother someone else about it.”
Mobei-jun gives him a long, unblinking stare. His pupils contract to tiny slits. Eventually, he says, “As you command, Junshang.”
Binghe huffs and stalks back into the bamboo house without even waiting for Mobei-jun to teleport away.
Shen Qingqiu returns to a spotless house, and Binghe ensures his shizun’s needs are entirely satisfied. This takes some time; whenever Binghe thinks he is about to collapse with exhaustion, Shen Qingqiu looks up at him with pleading eyes and asks if Binghe is denying himself for the sake of an old man, and Binghe has to rally lest the pleading turn to disappointment. Afterwards, they doze together for perhaps a quarter shi, and then Binghe has the pleasure of seeing to his shizun’s hair before they proceed to the training grounds.
When they had first begun to split their time between Qing Jing and the demonic realm, Binghe had been prepared to spend a good deal of time fighting. In a move his shizun describes as generous, Liu Qingge now oversees the martial training of the Qing Jing disciples, regardless of whether Shen Qingqiu is on the peak. Binghe had been sure this would lead to him sparring with Liu Qingge on a daily basis; instead, it had given him a front row seat to Liu Qingge looking at Shen Qingqiu with longing eyes, hands clenching on the hilt of Cheng Luan. This had unsettled Binghe at first, but when he realised Liu Qingge would never unbend long enough to actually attract Shen Qingqiu’s interest, it had become one of the local entertainments. Whenever they attend the training grounds, Binghe tries to ensure he leaves at least a few love bites in places his shizun won’t remember to cover, and becomes unusually prone to leaving a hand wrapped around Shen Qingqiu’s waist, even by his standards. The journey Liu Qingge’s face goes on is hilarious every time.
But today, Liu Qingge isn’t there.
Binghe frowns, and steps even closer to Shen Qingqiu, bending down to speak directly into his ear. “Did shizun send Liu-shishu away?” he asks.
Shen Qingqiu swats at Binghe with his fan, so Binghe must not have been very successful at keeping the hope out of his voice.
“Of course not,” Shen Qingqiu says. He frowns at the training grounds.
Binghe spares a glance at the disciples – diligently moving through their forms without any guidance required – and then sets both hands on Shen Qingqiu’s waist, pressing up behind him. “It seems we aren’t needed here, shizun.”
“Shizun!” comes a bright, bubbly voice.
Binghe keeps his sigh strictly internal as Ning Yingying approaches. He likes his shijie almost all of the time, but he suspects she comes with news about Liu Qingge, and he doesn’t want any.
“Ning Yingying,” Shen Qingqiu says, as his disciple comes sliding to a halt in front of him. “I trust there is a reason for this display.”
“Yes, shizun!” Yingying chirps. “Liu-shishu sent word he couldn’t make it today. He and Liu-shimei are leaving the peaks to go on a special hunt!”
Binghe wants to be pleased by this news, but something doesn’t feel right. He squints at Yingying, as if somehow looking at her will reveal the secrets. “A special hunt? What does that entail?”
Yingying shrugs. “That’s what Liu-shimei called it. I don’t know anything else.”
“Hmm,” says Shen Qingqiu.
Binghe’s stomach clenches.
*
A week later, Liu Qingge is still gone. Luo Binghe ought to be happy about this, but his shizun develops a tight moue of concern every time they arrive at the training fields and Liu Qingge is not there. Even Binghe finds himself despondent as the days go by; Liu Qingge is no great loss, but Binghe had come to enjoy sticking pins in his ego now and then. And there is a second consequence, far worse: Shen Qingqiu now spends hours every day consulting with Shang Qinghua.
When Binghe’s shizun leaves for An Ding for the seventh day in a row, Binghe follows. Discreetly.
He waits until Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua have had enough time to engage in their usual ritual of insulting each other in greeting – a strange custom, presumably from their shared hometown – then takes up a position in the shadows behind Shang Qinghua’s leisure house. The An Ding disciples don’t interfere. Binghe has come to an understanding with them since he and his shizun returned to Cang Qiong. In return for letting them eat any dumplings that happen to come out slightly misshapen when he cooks for Shen Qingqiu, the An Ding disciples have shown him exactly where to sit for the greatest chance of overhearing Shang Qinghua’s conversations. Now that the sect knows about his association with Mobei-jun, Shang Qinghua has gotten lazy with his silencing talismans.
“—your fault, you know,” Shang Qinghua says, just as Binghe gets into place. “If you’d just let Liu Qingge die in those caves, none of this would’ve happened.”
Shen Qingqiu’s fan opens with a soft snap. “It’s hardly my fault you weren’t able to seal the deal–”
“Shut up!” Shang Qinghua cries. “Just – shut up, okay? I know.”
Luo Binghe scowls and prepares to storm in and demand justice for the insult to his shizun, but then he hears Shen Qingqiu sigh, and the click of the fan being set down.
“It’s just not right,” Binghe’s shizun mutters. “Liu Qingge? And Mobei-jun? I can’t imagine either of them with – well, anyone.”
“That’s your lack of imagination, yellow gourd-xiong,” Shang Qinghua says. “The rotten women didn’t have any trouble. Can you imagine if they heard about this? I bet they can sense it somehow. They’re so happy right now and they don’t even know why.”
Binghe is not entirely sure who the rotten women are; perhaps some tribe of corpse demons? Is there some political situation developing? Yellow gourd-xiong refers to Shen Qingqiu, although yellow gourd is a baffling nickname for the most elegant man in the world, notably clad in green. It’s no stranger than what Shen Qingqiu calls Shang Qinghua, he supposes.
“Mobei-jun,” Shen Qingqiu says. “And… Liu Qingge.”
“Saying their names slower isn’t going to break them up!”
“It’s not like you’ve tried anything else, flying chance-xiong.”
“He banished me,” Shang Qinghua says.
Binghe blinks. He had not thought anything could induce Mobei-jun to abandon his little human pet. What had Shang Qinghua done to earn banishment?
“He banned me from doing work or even coming to the palace, and then he dropped me here and took Liu Qingge back with him!” Shang Qinghua continues, in the aggrieved tones of a man deeply wronged. “I don’t know what to do! C’mon, yellow gourd-xiong, don’t you have any ideas?”
“Liu Qingge and Mobei-jun,” Shen Qingqiu says contemplatively. “Well… good for them, I suppose.”
“No!” Shang Qinghua wails. “Not good for them! Not good for anyone! The whole Northern Realm is in total chaos—”
“Didn’t you just say you were banished?”
“I have a perfectly functioning spy network, thank you very much, unlike some peak lords I could name! Anyway, my king hasn’t had anyone else take over any of my work! He and Liu Qingge just took off to go hunting together! With Liu Mingyan’s blessing, no less!” Shang Qinghua sighs. “With my luck, Liu Qingge will become Queen of the North and leave me with even more work, which I’m not allowed to do – you could fix this, you know! He still has that crush on you–”
Binghe decides he’s heard enough. There’s only one logical course of action here. If Liu Qingge’s relationship with Mobei-jun is what has drawn Shen Qingqiu’s attention away from Binghe, then Binghe will simply have to put a stop to it.
*
When Binghe tells Shen Qingqiu he has business to deal with in the demon realm, Shen Qingqiu doesn’t even invite himself along. The situation is truly dire. Even hinting about rare and unusual monsters doesn’t stir him from his contemplation. Binghe makes sure to thoroughly tire his shizun before he leaves, but he can’t help but worry. He travels with haste.
Binghe arrives to find Mobei-jun’s court in utter disarray. He observes for precisely long enough to determine that the chief complaints are that supplies have stopped arriving and no one is getting paid, and then abandons the palace to its own devices.
There are several places in the Northern Realm that Binghe considers to be quite romantic, in a cold, remote way; he finds Mobei-jun at none of them. Binghe considers simply using his position as Emperor to have them both declared dead and washing his hands of the whole affair, but recalling that Shen Qingqiu would be disappointed in him puts paid to that idea.
Binghe considers his options, then very nearly slaps himself when he realises his mistake. It was foolish of him to assume that Mobei-jun would rely on romantic vistas when courting, especially when courting Liu Qingge. Their only shared interest, so far as Binghe is aware, is hunting. He mounts Zheng Yang and takes flight.
When Binghe finally spots his quarry, they are in the middle of a vast flat stretch of smooth ice; one of the many vast lakes of the North. Liu Qingge looks like a Night-Devouring Ice Tiger-Bear, all wrapped up in layers of furs. Beside him, Mobei-jun is in his usual silk robes, although with more of his chest on display than usual. They sit, still and silent and side by side, on stools carved from petrified tree stumps, looking down into a hole in the ice. The water beneath them is black as the night sky. Binghe does not recall what creature might be in this particular lake, but he is sure his shizun would know, and furthermore, would instruct him on the best manner with which to dispatch it and the value of all its parts.
Mobei-jun places his hand on Liu Qingge’s shoulder for a moment. Liu Qingge raises his head. From above them, Binghe cannot make out their faces or what they might be saying, but he sees Mobei-jun remove his hand, and both men go back to looking at the hole.
Binghe has never cared to examine the courting customs of ice demons before. He sees now this was a tactical error. He has no idea what the hole in the ice signifies, or how far things may have progressed. The thought that this might be some kind of northern wedding tradition makes his stomach flip, and he descends at once, kicking up a flurry of ice chips as he lands.
“Liu-shishu!” Binghe calls.
Liu Qingge looks up from his observation of the hole in the ice and scowls. “What do you want?”
“That’s no way to greet your martial nephew,” Binghe says, and pouts. “And after I came all this way to see you!”
Liu Qingge bristles, and Binghe grins, ready to spar. Then Mobei-jun raises a finger to his lips, and Liu Qingge immediately turns back to the water without saying anything. Binghe stares at the expanse of Liu Qingge’s back – did Mobei-jun give him all those furs? They look expensive. They must be courting gifts.
“Ignoring me, Liu-shishu?” Binghe asks. He strolls forward.
“Quiet,” Liu Qingge hisses. “You’ll ruin it.”
Binghe opens his mouth to ask what, exactly, would be ruined by him, but then he pauses. Yingying had referred to a special hunt; is this Mobei-jun’s proposal? Or worse – are they already married? Is this their honeymoon?
The thought is so awful Binghe barely even notices the vast shape moving beneath the ice.
“Mine,” Liu Qingge says, and unsheathes Cheng Luan.
Mobei-jun nods and stands. He forms a long spear of glittering ice from the air and hands it to Liu Qingge, who accepts it without taking his eyes off the water. Mobei-jun comes to stand beside Binghe, frowns at him, and then tilts his head towards the lake shore.
“They will require more room, Junshang,” he says, and keeps walking.
Binghe doesn’t move, staring at Liu Qingge. Liu Qingge, for his part, stares intently into the hole in the ice. He shifts his grip on the ice spear, pulls back, and throws.
The spear vanishes into the water. A moment later, the ice shatters.
Binghe leaps backwards, raising an arm to shield himself from the rain of frozen shrapnel. When he lowers his arm, he sees Liu Qingge on Cheng Luan, somehow untouched by the destruction, hovering above the shattered lake. Liu Qingge throws off his furs with enough force that they sail straight past Binghe and land at Mobei-jun’s feet. Before Binghe even has time to be horrified – Liu Qingge! Taking his clothes off for Mobei-jun! – a Glacial Feathered Strangling Carp launches itself from the water.
“Here, Junshang,” Mobei-jun says from behind him. “You will have a better view.”
Binghe glances back and sees that Mobei-jun is standing on a snow-covered rise. It does look like it will give an excellent view of the battle. Binghe lands beside him and folds his arms.
“How long have you and Liu Qingge been together?” he demands.
Liu Qingge plummets towards the Strangling Carp’s jaws, blazing like a meteor. The Carp opens both sets of jaws wide enough to swallow Liu Qingge whole, but Liu Qingge pivots at the last moment to fly past and slice through its gills as he goes. The Carp bellows and spreads its long feathered fins, flapping hard as it rises into the air. The sunlight reflects off its ice-blue scales and casts dancing rainbows across Liu Qingge as he circles it for another attack.
“Since he arrived,” Mobei-jun says.
“What?” Binghe asks, so enraptured by the lights skimming over Liu Qingge’s face that he quite forgets what he wanted to ask.
“It seemed unwise to leave a human cultivator unaccompanied.”
Binghe glares at Mobei-jun. Mobei-jun, as always, is impervious to it. Binghe is forced to resort to words.
“When did you start courting him, then?”
“I am not courting him,” Mobei-jun says.
The relief that floods through Binghe is so distracting, he almost misses the blow with which Liu Qingge slices off the Strangling Carp’s dorsal fin. Before the Carp is even finished screeching, Liu Qingge takes off one of the pectoral fins as well, unbalancing it so badly it is forced to land on the ice. Liu Qingge’s ice spear dangles from the gap in the scales where the Strangling Carp’s head meets its body; Liu Qingge leaps up to grab the shaft, but the Carp twists away at the last moment.
“Wait,” Binghe says abruptly. “What do you mean, you’re not courting him? Is my shishu not good enough for you?”
Mobei-jun gives Binghe a flat stare, and then looks back at where the Strangling Carp is attempting to flee Liu Qingge by diving back through the shattered ice. Liu Qingge takes up a grip on the Carp’s tail fins and spins, launching the Carp across the lake and into a snowbank.
Binghe lowers his chin, conceding that it was a silly question.
“This Mobei-jun is promised to another, as Junshang well knows,” Mobei-jun says. “However, there are certain… political considerations. Liu Mingyan suggested a false courtship might alleviate them.”
Liu Qingge must have enjoyed hurling the Strangling Carp across the lake, because he does it again. This time he spins around twice before he releases it. The Carp, being larger than most of the buildings on Cang Qiong, creates an impressive cloud of snow when it crashes down.
“How exactly would a false courtship help your problems with Shang-shishu?” Binghe asks.
“The court does not recognise Shang Qinghua’s value,” Mobei-jun says. His voice is very slightly lower in pitch than usual, which Binghe supposes is as close as Mobei-jun comes to an emotional display. “I instructed him to take a period of rest, and allow the court to appreciate his contributions in their absence. Liu Mingyan suggests this will expedite their acceptance of him as my betrothed when he returns.”
Binghe is fairly certain Liu Mingyan got that idea from a Liu Su Mian Hua story, although in that case, there was also an element of driving a romantic rival into fits of jealousy.
The Strangling Carp gives up on fleeing and turns to face Liu Qingge. It lunges at him, jaws snapping. Liu Qingge springs up and lands on the Carp’s forehead. Each of the Carp’s scales are the size of a torso, gleaming blue and silver, and almost impossible to cut through. Liu Qingge doesn’t bother trying; he raises Cheng Luan and plunges it down into the Carp’s eye.
Before the Carp even begins to fall, Liu Qingge backflips into the air and lands a safe distance away, touching down with such precision he barely even disturbs the snow. He turns to look at Mobei-jun, grinning in his victory. There is a thin blue streak of the Carp’s blood across his cheekbone.
Binghe tugs at the collars of his robes. Considering the ice, he feels unusually warm.
Mobei-jun hums thoughtfully. “Liu Mingyan will be interested in this development.”
“I have no idea what you mean,” Binghe says.
*
Under no circumstances is Binghe willing to allow Liu Qingge to travel back to Cang Qiong alone. Anything could happen. He could be delayed or distracted or devoured by a monster, and then Shen Qingqiu would be even more upset. Binghe explains this to Liu Qingge while Liu Qingge and Mobei-jun carve up the Glacial Feathered Strangling Carp into more transportable pieces.
“You could help,” Liu Qingge says as he rolls up an expanse of scaley hide.
“Why would I do that?” Binghe asks.
Mobei-jun takes the meat – Strangling Carp is a delicacy among demons, but mostly gives humans indigestion – and Liu Qingge gathers up the fins and feathers. Binghe loiters, tapping his foot as they say their goodbyes.
“Let’s do this again sometime,” Liu Qingge says as he packs scales into his qiankun pouch.
“Mm.” Mobei-jun uses his chin to point to the glittering fins in Liu Qingge’s hands. “Those would make princely courting gifts, should you require.”
Liu Qingge blushes.
Binghe’s eyes narrow. Was Mobei-jun lying about where his interests were? Or has Liu Qingge developed some kind of attachment to Mobei-jun while they’ve been hunting together?
“All right, enough flirting,” he says. “Mobei, don’t you have a kingdom to run?”
Mobei-jun’s eyebrow lifts fractionally as he replies, “Don’t you?” Then he’s gone in a rush of shadows.
“Insubordinate,” Binghe mutters.
Liu Qingge rolls his eyes, mounts Cheng Luan, and takes off. Binghe has to hurry to catch up with him.
They fly in silence for a while. Binghe pointedly keeps pace exactly, never straying behind or rushing ahead, not that Liu Qingge even seems to notice. Eventually, Liu Qingge glances over at him and asks, “Why did you come?”
Binghe’s first instinct is to say something lewd – because shizun did that thing with this tongue, perhaps – but the options available to him are so extensive that he briefly drifts into a happy recollection.
Liu Qingge huffs. “Fine, don’t answer.”
“Some patience for this poor disciple, Liu-shishu, please,” Binghe says. “I was gathering my thoughts.”
“Then what’s your answer?” Liu Qingge demands.
“Shizun and I,” Binghe begins, but something makes him stop. Liu Qingge doesn’t deserve to think Shen Qingqiu worried over his relationship! “Your absence was noticed,” he says instead.
Liu Qingge looks away, but doesn’t make any more angry grunting noises. Perhaps Binghe didn’t catch himself in time.
“And then Shang-shishu found out that you and Mobei-jun were courting,” he adds. “I had to escape the whining somehow.”
Liu Qingge snorts and waves a dismissive hand. “Shang Qinghua will always find something to whine about. Mobei says it’s part of his charm.”
“Oh, you’re calling him Mobei now?” Binghe guides Zheng Yang a little closer to Cheng Luan, leaning in to speak directly in Liu Qingge’s ear. “Perhaps the rumours were true. Is Liu Qingge really interested in being courted by demonic royalty?”
Liu Qingge chokes, makes a wordless sound of rage, and accelerates away.
“Liu-shishu, really, there’s no cause to be embarrassed!” Binghe calls after him. “You and shizun can discuss your shared taste in men–”
“GET LOST,” Liu Qingge says, and flies faster.
Binghe laughs and gives chase.
*
“Shizun,” Binghe calls when they arrive back at the bamboo house. “Look what I found!”
Shen Qingqiu looks up from the bestiary he’s studying. His fan comes up to hide his face. “Ah, Liu-shidi. Back so soon?”
Liu Qingge grunts. Binghe rolls his eyes and grabs Liu Qingge’s sleeve, tugging him forwards.
“Mobei-jun was a determined combatant,” he says, “but shizun needn’t worry. In the end, I stole Liu-shishu away.”
Shen Qingqiu blinks at them from behind his fan.
“Oh,” he says. “I see. Well, this is very sudden, but I suppose I always knew this day would come. Congratulations, you two.”
“Thank you, shizun,” Binghe says.
“What day?” Liu Qingge asks.
Shen Qingqiu laughs ruefully. “How could someone as impressive as Binghe ever be satisfied with one spouse? If he had to start a harem, I’m glad it’s with you, Liu-shidi. Someone I already know and admire – I mean, respect.”
Binghe’s heart stops. “Shizun, what are you talking about?”
At the same time, Liu Qingge chokes out, “Who’s in a harem!”
It’s too late. Shen Qingqiu is already rising from the table, fan fluttering fretfully. “You two newlyweds want some time alone! Don’t let this old man get in your way. I’ll visit Shang-shidi for a while. Ah, young love. I’ll leave first.”
Binghe reaches for his shizun, but Shen Qingqiu is out the door before his fingers can so much as brush against a sleeve. His eyes well with burning tears. He looks at Liu Qingge, lip quivering.
Liu Qingge stares back at him, face bloodless.
“What,” Liu Qingge says. “The hell. Is wrong with him.”
“How dare you,” Binghe says, “shizun is perfect,” then he abandons all dignity and seizes Liu Qingge so that he can sob into his shoulder.
*
When Luo Binghe’s tears have dried and Liu Qingge has succeeded in prying him off, they unanimously agree that they need to find Shen Qingqiu before he tells anyone else Binghe is starting a harem. Binghe is confident in his abilities, but even he does not wish to face down the wrath of the Xuan Su Sword, should Yue Qingyuan hear about this. Fortunately, they find him on the rainbow bridge, coming back from An Ding with a drawn face.
“Ahaha, excuse me, Liu-shidi, Binghe,” he says as they approach him. “I may need to return to the house after all. It seems Shang-shidi has company. Very… loud company.”
Huh. Good for Mobei-jun. “Shizun,” Binghe says, and sniffles. “How could you think I would want you to leave?”
“Ah, Binghe, you don’t need to spare this old man’s feelings,” Shen Qingqiu says. “Liu-shidi is very beautiful, after all, and–”
“Here,” Liu Qingge says, and shoves something sparkly into Shen Qingqiu’s chest.
Shen Qingqiu takes it, eyes widening. “Is this the pectoral fin of a Glacial Feathered Strangling Carp?”
“Yes,” Liu Qingge says.
He turns to Binghe and tosses the other pectoral fin at him. Binghe snatches it out of the air. It’s a pretty thing; with a little work Binghe could make shizun a war fan from the fin itself, and perhaps a tassel for Xiu Ya from the feathers.
“They’re traditional,” Liu Qingge says.
“Traditional what, shidi?” Shen Qingqiu asks distractedly. He’s raised the fin into the air to watch the sun pass through it, casting motes of light along the ground.
Liu Qingge sighs heavily and says, “Courting gifts.”
Binghe clutches the fin to his chest, looking at Liu Qingge with wide eyes. “Liu-shishu wants to give us both courting gifts?”
“Isn’t that what I just did?” Qingge snaps. “If you don’t want it, say so.”
“Shishu, I want it,” Binghe says, dizzy as his heart begins to beat again. He grabs Liu Qingge’s wrist and tows him forward. “Shizun, as the senior, you should kiss Liu Qingge first.”
Shen Qingqiu is so startled by this that he tries to hide behind the Strangling Carp fin, forgetting that it is transparent – another good reason for Binghe to make him a fan from it. “Don’t be ridiculous – that is to say – Liu-shidi, surely you don’t–”
Liu Qingge growls and seizes Shen Qingqiu by the collar, hauling him down into a clumsy, messy kiss. Binghe sighs happily; not only does it remind him nostalgically of his own first time kissing Shen Qingqiu, but it also suggests that Binghe has a much higher level of skill in this realm. Liu Qingge won’t be on his level for weeks, maybe months, and by then Binghe will have had time to learn all manner of new tricks.
He’s unprepared for Liu Qingge to release Shen Qingqiu, turn on his heel, and plant a kiss on Binghe as well. It’s every bit as uncomfortable and biting and messy as Binghe had suspected it would be, and Binghe loves it. Although it does give him a new sympathy for his poor shizun. The early days of their courtship really were fraught.
“There!” Liu Qingge says. “Are you happy? Can we go back to the house now?”
Binghe glances around. A lot of disciples have stopped to gawk, but as Binghe’s eyes pass over them, they all suddenly develop a pressing need to be elsewhere.
“Ah,” Shen Qingqiu says. “Yes, shidi, this is certainly not a forum in which to discuss such matters.”
“As shizun says,” Binghe says, resting a hand on Liu Qingge’s waist. “Let’s go back, Liu-shishu. I want to discuss matters with you until you cry.”