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Inside the tent, Shen Qingqiu sat on the edge of the bed stripped down to his inner robes. Not of his own volition, of course, but what else could have been done about it after Tianlang-Jun 'accidentally' ripped his outer robes with his claws over tea. It had been some hours since he had last had a visitor. The ties that bind had been burned into quiescence. No servants sought entry. The food of a demon army left a lot to desire, and he had firmly, politely, declined further meals. Shen Qingqiu was meditating with his eyes closed, when a voice announced itself at the door.
"Master Shen, are you still awake?" Tianlang-Jun spoke through the tent flap, then, predictably, entered without waiting for an answer.
Shen Qingqiu opened his eyes to see Tianlang-Jun had entered with Zhuzhi-lang behind him. The handsome young demon, taller than the door and the demon emperor both, swayed on his feet before collapsing into a puddle of limbs. Shen Qingqiu's eyes went wide.
Tianlang-Jun sighed heavily and grabbed Zhuzhi-lang by the collar and pulled him back to his feet.
"My foolish nephew is in need of your assistance."
"What could this humble master possibly offer that Tianlang-Jun cannot?"
Zhuzhi-lang raised his head to look upon Shen Qingqiu with unfocused fever-bright eyes. He did look terrible even as he made the effort to stand on his own.
"He ran into some sort of flower or another," Tianlang-Jun said, with a careless wave of his hand. "He needs to dual cultivate or he'll die."
Shen Qingqiu choked up a mouthful of blood. He slapped a hand to his mouth as he quickly swallowed it back down around a coughing fit. "Xizhi is a Heavenly Demon," Shen Qingqiu said. "You are immune to nearly ever poison and pollen in the human realm. What could possibly--"
"As much as I admire Peak Lord Shen's intellect and curiosity, my nephew is suffering."
The color in Zhuzhi-lang's face had taken on a grey, sallow tinge. His head lolled forward, before snapping back up again.
"He refused every demon I ordered to handle the matter, insisting on you instead," Tianlang-Jun said, blandly. "If Peak Lord Shen is unwilling, then step aside and let me get to work."
"You?!" Shen Qingqiu parroted back, appalled. "You're his uncle."
"Who else?" Tianlang-Jun said, breezily. "What sort of uncle would I be if I let my favorite nephew die over something so trivial?"
He clapped Zhuzhi-lang on the back in an overly enthusiastic expression of bonhomie. The gesture left the poor thing toppling towards the ground with all the grace of a felled tree. Unbidden, Shen Qingqiu rose and caught the boy under his arms. Limp and weak, Zhuzhi-lang tried -- and failed -- to get his feet back under him, stumbling forward into Shen Qingqiu's chest.
Pitiful, Shen Qingqiu thought. His heart clenched in sympathy. While it was quite embarrassing to be seen gathering a much taller demon against his chest, it must be worse for a demon general to be seen cuddled by a human cultivator. He wrapped his arms more securely around Xizhi. His face may be thin, but Shen Qingqiu wasn't going to let him fall on the floor! Someone needed to be rational and clear-headed about the situation.
Regardless of recent events, ahem, and the disastrous mix-up in the Holy Mausoleum, Shen Qingqiu was predisposed to be fond of Zhuzhi-lang. If nothing else, Binghe needed a living family, no matter how disinclined to the notion they currently seemed! Shen Qingqiu stooped and swept Zhuzhi-lang up into his arms and carried him to the bed.
"Excellent!" Tianlang-Jun pronounced.
Shen Qingqiu flicked a baleful sidelong glance at the erstwhile demonic ruler. He resolved to ignore him until the current emergency was resolved. Once Shen Qingqiu laid him down, Zhuzhi-lang immediately fought against Shen Qingqiu's hold to try to sit up in bed. He was in a sufficiently weakened state that even Yingying could have stopped him. Each moment that passed left Zhuzhi-lang out a breath, mouth parted and showing a hint of a serpentine tongue. Shen Qingqiu tightened his hands on Zhuzhi-lang's shoulders reflexively. The poison must have been one of Airplane's nastier wife plots. The Dagger Petal Iris? Perhaps even the Dawn Splitting Starbloom?
"Was it a dull white flower with a stem of gold leaf?"
"He failed to say," Tianlang-Jun said appearing at the bed side and promptly began to remove his nephew's belts. He brightened as he asked "Does the nature of the plant change how you plan to ---【dial-up modem noises】--- him?"
Once Shen Qingqiu's ears ceased ringing from protective self-censorship, he placed his hands on Tianlang-Jun's shoulders and none-too-gently press-ganged him out of the tent.
"Yes, thank you. This master will take over care from here."
In retrospect, the ease with Shen Qingqiu accomplished the feat of separating uncle from beloved nephew should have been a warning sign. In the moment, however, Shen Qingqiu was merely relieved to be rid of their spectator. He straightened his spine and the curtain behind him to return to Zhuzhi-lang's bedside. In the intervening moments, Zhuzhi-lang had once more made to sit up. Weak as a kitten, Shen Qingqiu did him the kindness of providing a steadying grip on both shoulders.
"Zhuzhi-lang?" Shen Qingqiu called to him. When no response came, he cupped a hand to the young man's cheek. "Xizhi?"
Zhuzhi-lang blinked slowly in response.
"You were poisoned. Do you remember?"
Zhuzhi-lang blinked again, cat-like and sleepy, and tilted his head forward in acknowledgement.
"Tianlang-Jun believes you need to--" the hysterical ringing began again "--exchange qi."
The information went unheard. Zhuzhi-lang's eyes had shut again. He looked quite pathetic in this condition. Shen Qingqiu felt his heart clench in pity once more. There was no reason to do what Tianlang-Jun was suggesting, of course. The chances that the poison could be deadly were infinitesimally slim, especially in the absence of the protagonist and any of his future wives. Two scum villains had no reason to be subject to such contrived authorial machinations! Perhaps some light nurse roleplay -- and some qi -- would be enough to get Zhuzhi-lang lucid enough to identify the flower and allow Shen Qingqiu to recall the proper antidote.
Full of mercy, Shen Qingqiu leaned down until their faces were a breath apart. Zhuzhi-lang's mouth looked soft. His lips were parted -- his breath was shallow and hitching. Shen Qingqiu summoned the mien of Mu Qingfang and his gentle medical detachment and pressed his mouth against the dry, petal-soft lips of the young man in front of him. He focused on transferring energy, mouth-to-mouth, with a chaste, gentle motion. Shen Qingqiu slid his hand up Zhuzhi-lang's shoulder and cupped his cheek, holding his head in place while he administered medical treatment. The transference went smoothly, with a steady trickle of energy that flowed between them. It was almost pleasant -- that is, until Zhuzhi-lang stiffened and shoved Shen Qingqiu backwards. Shock kept Shen Qingqiu from reacting properly as Zhuzhi-lang twisted and retched blood over the side of the bed. He winced, feeling self-conscious. Now he knew what it felt like to be in those stories where the beautiful little sister gags as soon as the unpopular boy confessed his crush and went in for a kiss. Truly a blow to this old man's ego.
Zhuzhi-lang remained slumped over the side of the bed, unmoving, as a long thread of dark, nearly black spittle hung from his chin. Shen Qingqiu grimaced and gently wiped the young man's mouth with the edge of his sleeve.
"Xizhi," Shen Qingqiu called again as he lifted him back onto the bed. "Did you really... that is, this master is flattered at the trust, but surely there is someone better suited?"
With a glance toward the door of the tent, Shen Qingqiu wondered how he would explain to Tianlang-Jun how imperative it was to find another option that was not him and also not a blood relation! A pained whimper from Zhuzhi-lang drew his attention back. He was not sure he had ever heard Zhuzhi-lang react vocally to pain before. Even in the mausoleum, engulfed in magma, he stayed stoically silent. Shen Qingqiu took the man's hand in his, ignoring the sudden flush he felt in this stifling hot tent, and checked Zhuzhi-lang's qi. It was sluggish and sputtering, both clear signs of distress, and growing weaker by the second.
Mustering his courage, Shen Qingqiu set Zhuzhi-lang's hand gently aside and finished unfastening the belt Tianlang-Jun had half-removed. He could do this. It was practically a medical procedure in 【Proud Immortal Demon Way】. With the casual way Tianlang-Jun handled his precious nephew's condition, this may very well happen to him all the time. Perhaps snake demons of the southern realms were more susceptible than others, leaving Zhuzhi-lang, even as a half Heavenly Demon, at the mercy of many a plant and accustomed to being taken by whoever was around. Shen Qingqiu's hand trembled slightly as his pushed aside the simple black outer robes to reveal skin as pale as moonlight. He closed his eyes tightly and mumbled, "This master apologizes," as he pulled Zhuzhi-lang's trousers down. Shen Qingqiu's attempts to preserve the boy's modesty were stymied by calf-high boots. He looked to the heavens for forgiveness and then to his task to strip Zhuzhi-lang down to his socks.
A second quiet noise drew Shen Qingqiu's attention back up the bed. His breath caught. Shen Qingqiu crept upward and stroked a hand along Zhuzhi-lang's thigh up to the protrusion of the hip bone. Shen Qingqiu left his hand there and brushed his thumb over a patch of green freckles that vaguely resembled scales. It was a shame they were stuck in Airplane's gratuitous garbage creation and not the modern world. Tall and slim, handsome and muscled, Zhuzhi-lang would be perfectly suited to any Hengdian production. Perhaps not as the ML, of course, but with his features Zhuzhi-lang would certainly be the favorite of many a discerning woman.
"Xizhi," Shen Qingqiu said.
He definitely should have poured them some water first. His voice was rough, probably from the temperature of the room or dehydration. Shen Qingqiu pulled himself and his hands away to gave Zhuzhi-lang a good shake. He couldn't exactly slap the boy lucid; that would be cruel, but he could squeeze his jaw to get his attention.
"Xizhi, your uncle," Shen Qingqiu said. "I can-- Who do you want to treat you?"
At the mention of Tianlang-Jun, Zhuzhi-lang appeared to rally and his eyes finally focused on Shen Qingqiu's. There was a long pause while he wet his lips and shook his head clear.
"Master... Shen..?" Zhuzhi-lang whispered.
"Yes. I'm here. You were poisoned. Tell me how to help. Who can I call for?"
"Immortal Master Shen," Zhuzhi-lang repeated more firmly before he faded again.
Shen Qingqiu could feel his heart beating wildly as Zhuzhi-lang closed this eyes again. Action was needed. Xizhi was not improving and that was... well that was as clear an answer as the young man could give. Perhaps Tianlang-Jun had been honest for once when he brought Zhuzhi-lang here for his and only his assistance. It was fine. Shen Qingqiu could do this. Letting Xizhi die was too cold-hearted, nonsensical even. He probably wouldn't even remember who had been the one to do the deed.
What was it with half Heavenly Demons bending for him specifically??
Shen Qingqiu sat back on his knees and objectively reviewed his knowledge of what happens between two men. Zhuzhi-lang was somewhat twisted, with his hips turned to one side while the rest of his weight had shifted back on the bed. This angle would be fine. Shen Qingqiu was hardly as blessed as the protagonist to need to take excessive care of his comfort from the forward position. Bravely, he lifted Zhuzhi-lang's top leg, bent it at the knee, and pressed until it was nearly up to his chest. The shift exposed Zhuzhi-lang fully to his view. Shen Qingqiu was thankful for the delirium to protect Xizhi from any embarrassment he might feel for letting a strange man open him up for inspection. There was another patch of scale-like pigmentation down the base of Zhuzhi-lang's spine and between his buttocks. Oddly, insanely, Shen Qingqiu fought the urge to press his mouth there and find out of they felt and tasted like normal skin.
Shen Qingqiu swallowed hard and pressed the pad of his thumb against Zhuzhi-lang's chrysanthemum. The poison was making him tense. The muscles in his thighs spasmed and his hole resisted the small amount of pressure Shen Qingqiu applied.
"I need oil," Shen Qingqiu mumbled to himself.
In immediate response, the tent flap opened and an object hurtled unerringly towards Shen Qingqiu's head. He caught it automatically with his free hand and saw that it was some sort of cosmetic jar. Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck. Tianlang-Jun was taking too much interest in his nephew's health to leave them completely alone. The system had not even had time to offer one of its insidious scenario pushers. Shen Qingqiu erected a mental barrier to everything going on outside his tent and opened the jar. Tianlang-Jun had been fully prepared and provided a thick, slightly perfumed unguent. He coated his finger and pressed it in alongside his thumb.
With the tension in Zhuzhi-lang's body, Shen Qingqiu had feared it would difficult to prepare him for this, yet the finger slid immediately up to the second knuckle. Shen Qingqiu stared in intense concentration as his finger disappeared inside. He tightened his grip on Zhuzhi-lang's ass and held him open and watched his body welcome Shen Qingqiu inside. He continued to press until he had pushed the finger as far in as he could. Mouth dry, he bullied a second in alongside the first, foregoing the addition of more oil. Zhuzhi-lang gave no indication of awareness of what Shen Qingqiu was doing. He could work as he pleased. He could do anything, he thought, feeling the the stretch of skin around his fingers. He bent his thumb, half-ready to pry Xizhi open to make room for three fingers, or four. Maybe he could fit his whole hand inside without Zhuzhi-lang waking.
Startled by his own urge, Shen Qingqiu recoiled immediately, flush rising up his chest, neck, and throat. He pulled his fingers free. They felt cold in the air despite the oppressive heat in the room.
"Steady," he whispered to himself. "Just like Mu-shidi."
Shen Qingqiu parted his own robes and pushed down his pants just enough to free himself. At some point the stress of the situation had left him hard. He scrunched his eyes shut again and scooped out a generous amount of the ointment. He stroked himself until he was fully hard and the oil had grown warm and pliant. When he opened his eyes again, Shen Qingqiu's gaze skimmed up Zhuzhi-lang's long, lithe body until it came to his face. Zhuzhi-lang's face was lax, but his eyes were pinched tight.
Right, right, yes. Okay. Time to get moving.
He lined himself up, holding the base of his cock steady as he pushed inside. The squeeze of it was so much, Shen Qingqiu doubled over and grabbed Zhuzhi-lang's bent leg. Tight, tight, tighttight. He took a slow inhale once he was about half-way in. Then another. It took five long breaths before Shen Qingqiu felt the master of himself. He released the bruising grip he had on Zhuzhi-lang's leg and draped himself fully over the boy's body. He slid his arms under Xizhi's chest and gathered him in an embrace. He rolled his hips hesitantly and was rewarded with Xizhi's body opening to welcome him in fully.
"Good boy," Shen Qingqiu whispered into Zhuzhi-lang's ear. Then he began to move.
Zhuzhi-lang was slick and surprisingly snug for how little resistance there was. This was Shen Qingqiu's first time feeling someone else around him and it was hard to stay focused. Whatever this poison was, it left Zhuzhi-lang body temperature tepid, almost chilled, compared to the burning heat Shen Qingqiu in himself. It was still a challenge to step back from the temptation to chase after his eminent end. It felt good to be skin-to-skin with another person, with something more than his hand to slake the urge. He mentally gave himself a slap. They were meant to be dual cultivating and that meant he was supposed to be doing something with his qi. He began to pool his qi in his lower dantian and forced himself to think about the mating habits of ghost-head spiders, the rotting visage of sowers, anything to give dual cultivation the time to work it's hand-waving bull-shit Airplane magic.
"Xizhi," Shen Qinqgqiu said, mouth wet against his neck. "Wake up. You need to help me."
Demons don't cultivate like human cultivators do, not even the way demonic cultivators do. Reading a million words about Bing-ge's frequent and acrobatic dual-cultivation didn't necessarily mean Shen Qingqiu knew how the rest of demons did it. Surely Zhuzhi-lang would know what to do. If only he were more awake. Shen Qingqiu shifted his weight back on his heels and took a new angle that dragged new, less pained noises out of Xizhi. He began fluttering back to consciousness. He slapped an encouraging hand on Zhuzhi-lang's hip. "Come on."
After this many years, Shen Qingqiu thought he knew how his cultivation worked. He knew how to channel it through his sword. How it coiled like a spring when he used his qinggong. How it ached in his joints when Without a Cure flared up. This was different. There was new. It was hot in the base of his spine and bright behind his eyes. He felt untethered. He felt as though he would float away the moment he stopped burying himself in the body underneath him. Shen Qingqiu bumped his head against Zhuzhi-lang's until he could press their mouths together, wet and hungry, and feed him all the parts of himself.
As he fought against the urge to spend, Zhuzhi-lang began to (finally) respond. His mouth moved to reciprocate the kiss, a little tentative but clearly conscious. The blood mites in Shen Qingqiu sprang to life as the unfamiliar miasma of demonic qi trickles into his meridians. Zhuzhi-lang's arms came up and wrapped around Shen Qingqiu's neck as he began to move his hips to meet Shen Qingqiu's trusts. Zhuzhi-lang tightened so suddenly around Shen Qingqiu's cock that he lost his stroke and slipped out. Shen Qingqiu cursed under his breath and bit into Zhuzhi-lang's shoulder as he thrust roughly back in. Zhuzhi-lang arched off the bed and shuddered. The sour taste of the poison faded from his qi as he shook apart. At the same time, Shen Qingqiu felt his own cultivation rip free, uncorked, no longer dampened. It flowed as cool, and green, and plentiful as it had when he first stood tall in this body.
Without a Cure was gone, and Shen Qingqiu let the wave take him. He fumbled his way through fucking them both through orgasm as the system chirped awake.
【Congratulations! Congratulations! Congratulations! Good things must be said three times! Without a Cure (or Is It??) Completed! 500 B-points. Optional quest line Gentle Petal, Throbbing Bamboo Completed! 100 B-Points. Zhuzhi-lang's loyalty level has increased. Heartbreak points have increased...】
Shen Qingqiu sucked in a breath as he swatted at the alert like an unwelcome alarm clock. He slumped on top of Zhuzhi-lang like a pile of laundry. Oh fuck, Zhuzhi-lang. He quickly pushed himself back up onto his elbow and pushed the hair out of his face.
"Xizhi?" he said, voice half a purr. WTF. "Are you hurt?"
"Master Shen," Zhuzhi-lang said, sounding wrecked. "No."
Something inside him flared in satisfaction in response to Xizhi's voice. They stared at each other for a long moment until a muscle in Zhuzhi-lang's face twitched and he shifted his hips. Shen Qingqiu, biting off an apology, gently pulled out, dick shamefully still hard.
"You were poisoned," Shen Qingqiu said, strained, desperately searching for his dignity. "Tianlang-Jun brought you here when you asked for me."
Zhuzhi-lang did not respond. Shen Qingqiu remembered his question from before. "Do you recall what the plant looked like before you stepped on it? Was the flower a dull white or a lurid red?" He asked. "How odd for you to have found them as neither typically grows in this location. Perhaps it would be easier to show me," Shen Qingqiu glanced down at the state of them and mentally kicked himself. "Later. Is the poison gone?"
"It was not growing," Zhuzhi-lang said in a flat tone. "And this subordinate had never wished to impose himself on Master Shen."
"En," Shen Qingqiu acknowledged. "Your life was at stake. How can one be blamed for choices made under duress?"
"You misunderstand," Zhuzhi-lang said, interrupting. "I did not ask for you. I have no memory of what happened after I opened the box."
Even as the implication of his words began to sink in, Shen Qingqiu's mind hastily reached for another solution. "A demon seeking advancement gave you the box, perhaps? Or -- or something you recovered the mausoleum? The ancient demon emperors collected any number of dangerous artifacts..."
Zhuzhi-lang stayed silent.
That mother【BEEEEEEP】. When Shen Qingqiu saw him again, Heavenly Demon or no he was going to--
Zhuzhi-lang took advantage of Shen Qingqiu's distraction to reverse their positions and straddled his hips.
"This is another debt I owe Master Shen," Zhuzhi-lang said, ominously, "and your body is still in need. I will repay your kindness a thousand-fold."
Terror gripped Shen Qingqiu upon hearing those words. Terror rapidly replaced by overstimulation as Zhuzhi-lang sank down and sheathed Shen Qingqiu's still-turgid pillar in one smooth motion. His hands flew to Zhuzhi-lang's hips in panic as the young man began to vigorously bounce in place Even more horrifyingly, the tent flap flew open. Shen Qingqiu felt his soul leave his body as Tianlang-Jun reentered.
"Capably handled, I see, Peak Lord Shen," Tianlang-Jun said and clapped his hands. He sat down by the door and got comfortable. "This worked out quite well. Oh, do not stop on my account."
Shen Qingqiu buried his face in his hands. If he didn't die embarrassment, he could always self-destruct again...