Archive of Our Own

It starts with Shen Qingqiu feeling mild cramping on his lower abdomen today. At first, he chalks it off to training the new Qing Jing disciples the day before. He had overexerted himself a little bit in making sure all of them understood the cultivation method he was teaching. If it wasn't because of that, then it was probably when he and Luo Binghe tried out a new position the night before. Shen QIngqiu didn’t know his husband could go that deep but he definitely did.

Therefore, it was nothing to be too concerned about.

His husband is putting breakfast on the table when Shen Qingqiu emerges into the kitchen, yawning while he pulls his robes over his shoulders. Luo Binghe’s eyes light up at the sight of him and he wastes no time hurrying over to greet Shen Qingqiu with a morning kiss. “Did Husband sleep well?” he asks as he always does in the morning.

Shen Qingqiu laughs softly, wrapping his arms around his husband’s neck and pulling him into a hug. “Of course I did,” he murmurs as he pats Luo Binghe’s head. His husband melts in his arms with a contented noise as Shen Qingqiu presses a kiss to his temple. “Did you?”

“Mn.” Luo Binghe nods against him before pulling back. “Come, let’s eat breakfast.” He leads Shen Qingqiu by his hand to his seat at the table before taking his spot across his husband. 

Shen Qingqiu winces as he sits down, a hand moving to his abdomen. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Luo Binghe, who asks him what’s wrong. “No, it’s probably nothing too serious,” says Shen Qingqiu as he picks up a spoon and tucks into a bowl of congee.

“Was it because of last night?” asks Luo Binghe worriedly. “This husband apologizes for hurting you —”

Shen Qingqiu shakes his head as he reaches over and places a hand on Luo Binghe’s arm. “No, no, you didn’t hurt me at all. Don’t worry about it,” he says.

Luo Binghe opens his mouth as if to fuss over his husband some more before deciding against it. With a nod, he touches Shen Qingqiu’s hand and squeezes it gently. “If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.”

“Of course, my love.”

The next sign is when Shen Qingqiu experiences fatigue regularly. As a cultivator, it didn’t make sense that he could tire so quickly and besides, he often had plenty of rest on most days. Back in his world, he wasn’t much of a coffee drinker but what he wouldn’t give for a cup of it rather than Mu Qingfang’s bitter (and ashy-tasting) herbal brew. Even black coffee would be preferable to this … whatever this tea was made of.

Liu Qingge narrows his eyes when Shen Qingqiu tries not to gag while drinking this horrible brew. “You will need your strength when we arrive at the city,” he says. It’s his sharp-eyed glare that prevents Shen Qingqiu from dumping the brew out the carriage window.

“I know, I know,” replies Shen Qingqiu glumly as he swirls his cup, eyeing the muddy-looking liquid with distaste. I just wished it didn’t taste so revolting. 

“What has Shidi been up to recently to be experiencing such fatigue?” questions Yue Qingyuan next to Shen Qingqiu. “It is not common for someone at your cultivation stage to experience such a thing.”

“Probably training the new disciples,” Shen Qingqiu guesses. The bunch his peak received this time was quite rambunctious, their energy and enthusiasm quite admirable but difficult to control at times. “I really did put my back into training them,” he adds when Yue Qingyuan and Liu Qingge cast him curious looks. “Well, I mean, it’s good that I have my hands full with them rather than staying indoors all the time, wouldn’t you say?”

Yue Qingyuan nods, smiling in approval but Liu Qingge simply huffs. “At Bai Zhan peak, Yang Yixuan does a good job at whipping all the disciples into shape. Perhaps you should assign your Head Disciples to assist you if you find the new batch difficult to control.”

Shen Qingqiu flicks open his fan to hide his expression although his eyes twinkle in amusement. Truthfully, all of Qing Jing’s disciples are a rambunctious bunch but it’s because of that Shen Qingqiu is fond of them all. Although letting Ming Fan and Ning Yingying look after their new shidi and shimei doesn’t sound too bad of an idea, one must keep in mind that although Ming Fan was the Head Disciple in title, the true ringleader of the Qing Jing Disciples was Ning Yingying.

Ning Yingying was quite fond of children and would tend to spoil them while Ming Fan would be too happy to follow her lead. He would have to consider this suggestion again when they return to Cang Qiong after this expedition.

“In any case, I think Shidi should avoid straining himself on this mission,” says Yue Qingyuan. “Otherwise, you might get hurt —”

“And we’d have a lot to explain to that thick-headed husband of yours,” adds Liu Qingge with a roll of his eyes.

Shen Qingqiu snorts quietly behind his fan. It’s true, Luo Binghe wouldn’t be happy to hear that his husband had gotten himself injured while on a demon hunting mission with the two Peak Lords he didn’t like very much. “Oh, alright. But I won’t sit back and let the both of you steal all the glory,” he says, pinches his nose and drains the rest of Mu Qingfang's herbal brew.

Luo Binghe catches the way Shen Qingqiu winces slightly as his hands touch his chest, fingertips brushing against the hardened nubs. Concern knits his eyebrows together as he moves his hands away and sits up. The loss of his touch and the sound of his movement causes Shen Qingqiu to glance at his husband behind him with a question in his eyes. He had been enjoying the feeling of his husband’s hands touching his body.

“What’s the matter, Husband?” he asks over his shoulder, which is littered with bites and bruises from the night before. “Is everything alright?”

Luo Binghe takes his time to answer as he reaches for the dipper nearby, filling it with water from the tub. “Did this Husband hurt you last night?” he asks. 

Shen Qingqiu shakes his head. “You’d never hurt me,” he says with a laugh, noticing Luo Binghe frowning at the marks decorating his pale skin. “Not intentionally, of course.” His lips curve upwards in a faint smile as he admires Luo Binghe’s handiwork on his skin, the way someone would appreciate art by a painter, before his gaze returns to Luo Binghe. “Besides, you know when to stop when this Husband asks, don’t you?”

After a moment, Luo Binghe says, “Then … what about your chest? This Husband noticed your discomfort earlier.”

“Hm?” The sound of water sloshing as Shen Qingqiu raises his hands to touch his chest echoes around the walls of the room. “Ah, well, they’ve been feeling strangely tender since yesterday,” he explains.

“Did Husband feel uncomfortable when I touched you there last night?”

Shen Qingqiu shakes his head. “A little,” he admits and Luo Binghe pouts. “But not really. It also felt really good.” He slouches down in the tub until he’s submerged up to his chin. A sensation of pleasant haziness surrounds his senses the same way the warm bathwater surrounds his body. An idle sigh drags itself past his lips. He hears the shifting of robes behind him and can’t help asking, “Will Husband join me in the bath?”

Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t have asked such a question had they been back at their bamboo house tucked away in Qing Jing peak. This was Luo Binghe’s personal bathing chambers of his Demon Realm palace where their ‘tub’ was roughly about the size of a small pool. The two of them could fit comfortably in here, with more than ample space to do … well, whatever that comes to mind when their bodies are touching each other.

He hears a faint but sharp intake of breath from behind him and smiles. Luo Binghe isn’t going to get away that easily, especially not after he had touched Shen Qingqiu like that moments ago. A heartbeat later, Luo Binghe slips into the bath beside him, the still bathwater rippling around him.

Shen Qingqiu sits up to grab that small washbasin of toiletries nearby. “How much time do we have left till dinner with those demon generals?” he asks as he wades in front of Luo Binghe, unable to ignore the hot rush of excitement coursing at the feeling of his husband’s intense gaze on his bare upper body. 

In one fluid movement, Luo Binghe rises out of the water to capture his husband by the waist, closing the distance between them with his strong hands. Shen Qingqiu nearly drops the scrub in his hands, his breath caught in his throat as he feels his husband’s hardness brushing against his own. “Barely enough,” Luo Binghe murmurs against his ear, his low voice sending pleasant shivers down his spine. “Although if it were entirely up to this Husband, I’d rather spend time with you like this. Making Husband feel good is something I cannot rush.” As if to emphasize his point, his hand slips between them and gently squeezes Shen Qingqiu’s swelling cock.

Shen Qingqiu buries his face in the crook of his husband’s neck to stifle the soft moan rising in his throat, fingers grasping Luo Binghe’s biceps. If he were being entirely honest, he hadn’t really recovered from last night’s activities. But at the same time, it was hard to think of anything else when his lower abdomen has been aching for the past few days, the dull throb disappearing only when Luo Binghe is inside of him. It’s not a hard decision to make, in the moment, as Shen Qingqiu circles his arms around Luo Binghe’s broad shoulders and pushes his hips towards his husband. 

Ah, well, nothing a good papapa can’t fix in this world, right? Luo Binghe was the one with the magical healing cock anyway and his technique has improved vastly over the time they’ve been together.

“Then do as you like with me, Husband.”

Shen Qingqiu is convinced there’s something wrong with his body for the past month or so. There was no way this was a minor qi deviation, which would’ve resolved on its own, or a mild affliction, which should’ve been cleared with the frequent papapa with his husband. Ah, he should’ve brought this issue up the last time he saw Mu Qingfang sooner and had it checked out instead of putting the whole thing off. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be in this mess, with the bitter taste of bile at the back of his throat and his sick in the basin before him.

“Husband?” Luo Binghe’s voice brings Shen Qingqiu back to the present. The hand on his shoulder tightens, though Shen Qingqiu isn’t certain whether it’s a gesture of reassurance or the fact that Shen Qingqiu threw up this morning has Luo Binghe’s husband senses going off. Luo Binghe helps wipe his mouth before quickly fetching him some water. “Husband, are you alright?” he asks softly but his voice is thin with palpable concern.

Shen Qingqiu shakes his head and the creases on Luo Binghe’s forehead deepens. “Please do not worry too much about me,” he says though it’s probably not the right thing to say because Luo Binghe looks like he’s on the verge of flipping the world on its back for his sake. “I shall visit your Mu-shishu afterwards to have this diagnosed.”

Luo Binghe nods. Although he has an important Demon Lord meeting this morning, he insists on accompanying Shen Qingqiu to Qian Cao Peak. “Please inform this Husband about the diagnosis as soon as possible,” he murmurs, placing a kiss on both of Shen Qingqiu’s cheeks outside of Mu Qingfang’s office. Shameless as always with his public displays of affection (especially that cheeky hand placed dangerously low on Shen Qingqiu’s back) but Shen Qingqiu has gotten somewhat used to it. “Husband is most anxious to know.”

“Mm, I will.” Shen Qingqiu smacks his husband’s arm playfully when a group of Qian Cao disciples, who have witnessed such a display from their shibo and his spouse bump into each other in their hurry to avoid being glared to death by Luo Binghe. “I shall see you at dinner.” Shen Qingqiu caresses Luo Binghe’s cheek, his heart warming when his husband leans into his touch, before entering Mu Qingfang’s office.

Mu Qingfang has the grace to pretend that he didn’t just see his shixiong canoodling with his husband outside of his office but instead directs him to take a seat. Shen Qingqiu lists out the symptoms he has been experiencing over the past month or so, and when they had occurred. “It is quite unusual,” he remarks as Mu Qingfang checks his meridians for any poisons. “My cultivation level should be high enough that I should not be experiencing such issues over this period of time.”

Mu Qingfang nods in agreement when a frown pinches his eyebrows together. Shen Qingqiu pauses, a questioning look on his face, but the expression of Mu Qingfang’s confusion turns into surprise. 

“What is it?” asks Shen Qingqiu, catching the nervousness in his tone as Mu Qingfang rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Is it something serious, shidi?”

“Well.” Mu Qingfang regards Shen Qingqiu thoughtfully as if he wasn’t quite sure what to say. It takes him a couple of seconds before he says, “Your … condition is not unheard of in males, its occurrence is quite rare. However, I believe it is not impossible for shixiong, given your situation, to have developed such a condition.” He clears his throat in a delicate manner. 

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t know what to make of the way this. With Mu Qingfang speaking in such a way, it only makes the knot of unease in his abdomen tighten. He flicks his fan open out of habit and gently fans himself to distract his mind from jumping to conclusions.

Mu Qingfang continues, “When was the last time shixiong engaged in nightly activities with your spouse? And how often?”

Although Shen Qingqiu likes to think that he has gotten better with allowing himself to be more expressive around his fellow Peak Lords, his fan still moves on its own to cover the lower half of his face. Yes, Mu Qingfang was a doctor and there was no point in hiding such things from the person who was supposed to treat you, Mu Qingfang was also his shidi, someone he had to see for work matters or at the monthly Peak Lord meetings.

He didn’t know if he had the face to tell him how often he had sex with his husband; the last time he was asked that sort of question was by Shang Qinghua, and even then Luo Binghe was the one who answered it. He couldn’t look at Shang Qinghua, nor speak to him freely, for two months!

Shen Qingqiu takes a deep breath. It’s alright, Mu-shidi needs to know this sort of … detail if I want an accurate diagnosis of my condition . He answers Mu Qingfang’s questions albeit with a reddened face and in a barely audible voice. 

Mu Qingfang nods, keeping his strictly professional mannerisms, and jots the details down on Shen Qingqiu’s medical record scroll. Shen Qingqiu subtly peers over his fan but to his dismay he is unable to make any sense of the messy scrawling lines on the scroll. 

Once he finishes writing his diagnosis, Mu Qingfang sets his brush down before reaching out to touch Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder. Shen Qingqiu frowns, his unease and confusion growing when he notices the expression on Mu Qingfang’s face. It was … frighteningly solemn but it also looked almost like he was happy for Shen Qingqiu.

Happy for what, exactly? What could he possibly be happy for when all Shen Qingqiu has been going through for the past month is suffering?

“Congratulations, shixiong. You and your husband are going to be parents.”

Shang Qinghua was just having a cozy afternoon in, wrapped in the softest furs while working on a manuscript for his latest novel. He had recently gotten back into the habit of writing, now enjoying the freedom of being able to write whatever he wanted without the anxiety of wondering how his work would be received by finicky readers. Although it had taken him some time to get back into the habit of physically writing instead of tapping away furiously at his shitty laptop, the experience was somehow relaxing. 

It was a bit like auditory and visual ASMR, in a way, to hear the way his brush travelled across paper while smooth lines of ink flowed out from it to form words from his heart.

Anyway, Shang Qinghua was having a wonderful time putting his ideas in ink when he heard shouting from outside the room. He stops writing with a slight frown on his face.

What he liked about writing in his office at Mobei-jun’s icy palace in the Northern lands of the Demon Realm was how he could work in peace. Without being interrupted by the occasional ‘urgent’ demands for supplies from the other peaks, disciples knocking on his door to pass along complaints, and generally the messy and stressful environment of An Ding, Shang Qinghua was at his best creative performance when he worked here. Nobody made unnecessary loud noises in the palace (except for him … when Mobei-jun was in the mood) and the guards were efficient at keeping out intruders.

The fact that Shang Qinghua can hear indistinct but angry yelling in a familiar voice meant one thing: Cucumber-bro was paying a visit. With a loud sigh, Shang Qinghua puts away his ink and brushes, as well as his manuscript, in a nearby drawer and waits.

The doors to his office burst open to reveal a livid Shen Qingqiu behind it. 

The last time Shang Qinghua had seen him this angry was when he came to complain about one of the places he and Luo Binghe visited during their weekly trips down the mountain, which happened to be a place where a particular species of plants produced highly potent sex pollen. It turned out to be a setting for an unwritten side plot Shang Qinghua had planned for Proud Immortal Demon Way. “Constant papapa day and night!” Shen Qingqiu had shouted at the time in a shrill voice, smacking Shang Qinghua with his fan. “I thought my ass was never going to recover from it! And you know how unreasonably horny your protagonist is, not to mention his stamina! His appetite is insatiable !”

That wasn’t the first time Shang Qinghua became familiar with Shen Qingqiu’s curiously indestructible fan. (Seriously, how was it not broken, given how many times he hit Shang Qinghua at such a force? He couldn’t recall if he’d also given his fan a ‘protagonist halo’ as well.) There were also several other side plots that Shen Qingqiu had to go through with Luo Binghe prior to this one so one could say that Shang Qinghua had learned his lesson and came up with a plan for when Shen Qingqiu came around. 

(However, he really should consider ‘stealing’ back that teleportation amulet he gave to Shen Qingqiu for emergencies. Cucumber-bro was abusing it.)

Shang Qinghua puts on a winning smile despite the murderous glare sent his way. He is definitely going to bruise so badly from this. “Cucumber-bro!” he says in a chirpy voice despite the sweat forming on his back and the hammering in his chest. “Let me guess, you came across one of my annoying side-plots?”

Shen Qingqiu laughs, a harsh and derisive sound. “Oh, you think you can talk your way out of the situation smiling and talking like that?” He pulls his fan out from his sash and flings it across the room. Shang Qinghua ducks out of the way but the edge of the fan grazes over his hair bun before hitting the wall behind him with a clatter. “You wouldn’t be smiling like that once I get my hands on you!”

Shang Qinghua loses all pretense, now squeaking in terror as Shen Qingqiu chases him around his desk. “Bro, just calm down and tell me what’s wrong!” he pleads as he leaps over his desk out of Shen Qingqiu’s reach.

Shen Qingqiu snarls and a shoe flies across the room. “Calm down?” His voice is shrill with outrage. Steam is practically blowing out of his ears. “How about you explain to me what the hell is going on! Fucking idiotic Airplane and his senseless side-plots!”

“I can’t if you keep throwing things at me —“ A shoe hits Shang Qinghua in the head and he yelps out. Whenever Cucumber-bro was mad with him, he’d throw things but never with the intention to hit Shang Qinghua in the process. Sure there were a few close calls but not like this!

“Stop!” he cries out indignantly. “What has gotten into you!”

Shen Qingqiu, looking very much like a tomato on the verge of exploding, roars out the most unexpected thing ever: “I’m pregnant with his kid!”

At first Shang Qinghua thought he heard wrong. It had to be, right? And besides, it’s been awhile since he cleaned his ears. But once the heavy silence settles on the room following Shen Qingqiu’s outburst, he arrives at the startling realization that Cucumber-bro did say such a thing. He didn’t imagine it at all (nor did the earwax impede his hearing)! He freezes on the spot, mouth falling wide open, as he stares at Shen Qingqiu across the room. 

The look on Cucumber-bro’s face further confirms it. Underneath all that anger, Shen Qingqiu had the look that told Shang Qinghua he hadn’t fully processed the fact that he was carrying Luo Binghe’s child in his belly.

“Oh.” Shang Qinghua’s hand slowly reaches up to cover his mouth. “Oh my god,” he says in a smaller voice. He takes a tentative step towards Shen Qingqiu, but when Cucumber-bro doesn’t make any threatening moves, he crosses the room and puts his hands on his shoulders. Shen Qingqiu glares at him but that expression melts away. Wordlessly, Shang Qinghua directs Shen Qingqiu to the nearest chair. 

As he grabs another chair for himself, Shang Qinghua’s mind is buzzing. How is he going to comfort Cucumber-bro with something like this? What sort of advice should he give to him? And most importantly, will Cucumber-bro ever forgive him? He schools his features into an expression of calmness, for Shen Qingqiu’s sake, and takes a seat. He hasn’t touched his cup of tea so he offers it to Shen Qingqiu.

“Take your time,” says Shang Qinghua, because that’s what people said when someone was trying to broach a difficult subject (right?) and nods reassuringly.

“Stop that,” snaps Shen Qingqiu distastefully. “Stop putting on that act —“

“I’m doing it for your sake!”

“It’s freaking me out!” Shen Qingqiu pauses to take a deep breath.“Look, stop trying so hard. It’s not helping.”

“Sorry.” Shang Qinghua fiddles the edge of his sleeves, a nervous habit of his, while waiting for Shen Qingqiu to collect himself.

Shen Qingqiu sets down the empty cup once he finishes his tea. “I’m pregnant,” he says. “With Binghe’s baby. How the fuck did he knock me up?” he asks, punctuating every word for emphasis. “Airplane-bro, if I recall correctly, it’s canon in Proud Immortal Demon Way that Luo Binghe was sterile. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to papapa with that harem of his and that shitty novel of yours would’ve ended 6458 chapters early! Explain to me,” he says, turning to face Shang Qinghua, “why that isn't true anymore. And don’t tell me it’s because I changed the plot. You know it doesn’t work like that.”

Though he isn’t yelling at Shang Qinghua anymore, this somehow feels worse. Can he go back to Cucumber-bro screaming and throwing things at him until he calmed down? 

“Um …”

Shen Qingqiu arches an eyebrow, his gaze as sharp as knives.

A panicked laugh bubbles out of Shang Qinghua’s throat. He holds up his hands and says, “It’s supposed to be a deep commentary of how lonely Bing-ge was — the original goods I mean. ‘Cause in my outline, a Heavenly Demon can only impregnate their true love and I’m sure you know that no one in his harem ever got knocked up. Anyway, the true love bit isn’t specific to biological sex so —“

“I will kill you,” Shen Qingqiu cuts him off. Slowly, he rises out of his seat to his full height. “I will kill you where you stand. I will make sure that you will die in the slowest and most painful way possible —“

“Whoa, you’re channeling a whole lotta original Shen Qingqiu right here,” remarks Shang Qinghua as he tries to escape from his seat. “This is not reassuring at all —” Shen Qingqiu shoves him back down, placing both hands on the back of the chair and caging Shang Qinghua in his arms.

“— and ask Binghe to cook up your body and serve you as stew for that frigid demon husband of yours,” continues Shen Qingqiu in a deadly whisper. “And then when he says ‘Mm, my Lord, this stew is impeccable, it’s so savory and the texture of the meat is wonderful. What sort of ingredients did you use?’”

“Mobei-jun doesn’t talk like that. He also doesn’t say that many things, or adjectives, in one breath.”

“And Luo Binghe would smile with a wicked gleam in his eyes and say, ‘It’s the usual beef stew recipe, one of my dearest husband’s favorites, but today this Lord has, on my husband’s insistence, used a different meat to prepare this dish.” 

Before Cucumber-bro gets to finish the rest of whatever frightening dialogue he came up with, the doors open. Both Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu look up to see Mobei-jun. There was a look of intense desire in Mobei-jun’s gaze — ah, it must be that time of the day already! — but the moment he sees Shen Qingqiu bent towards Shang Qinghua like that, gripping the back of the chair with their faces inches away from each other, his expression flickers with annoyance.

“No, wait, it’s not what you think, My King!” Shang Qinghua cries out.

Mobei-jun stops. He turns back to them, his cold blue eyes narrowed skeptically. “I do not mind if you would like to take Shen Qingqiu as a bed partner,” he says to both Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu’s horror. “But I do not wish to be involved in this affair as Luo Binghe has a rather nasty temper.”

“My King!” The moment Shen Qingqiu is a safe distance away from him, Shang Qinghua leaps out of his chair and into Mobei-jun’s arms. “It’s not at all like that! He was simply complaining about —“ He stops short, unsure of what to call Shen Qingqiu’s situation; Cucumber-bro probably wanted to keep it hush-hush until they could figure out his next move. Mobei-jun, noticing his abrupt silence, raises an eyebrow. 

“It’s just a minor issue,” says Shang Qinghua quickly, much to Shen Qingqiu’s displeasure. Sorry Cucumber-bro! He squeezes his arms around Mobei-jun’s torso apologetically and Mobei-jun relaxes against him. 

“I’m pregnant.” For someone who didn’t know how to accept the fact that he was, Shen Qingqiu sure stated that a lot in half an hour.

Mobei-jun, who had been caressing Shang Qinghua’s cheek tenderly, pauses to look at Shen Qingqiu. He says nothing to the statement for a long time that even Shen Qingqiu loses his nerve. 

“It’s his fault,” says Shen Qingqiu as he points a finger accusingly at Shang Qinghua. “His fault that I’m like this now.”

Shang Qinghua’s jaw drops. The treachery! The absurdity! How could he word it like that and make it sound as if Shang Qinghua’s the one who put that child in his belly!

“So you are with his child?” asks Mobei-jun with a heavy frown.

“No!” Shang Qinghua twists out of Mobei-jun’s embrace to glare at Shen Qingqiu. “Bro, stop blowing things out of proportion! You know who the father of your child is, give him some credit for knocking you up.” Then he turns back to his husband and begins his explanation.

They’ve moved from Shang Qinghua’s office to Mobei-jun’s private dining room to discuss Shen Qingqiu’s situation. A servant brings them some light refreshments, local delicacies which have been modified for human consumption. Shang Qinghua tucks into his snacks with relish, munching noisily all the while ignorant of the crumbs on his cheeks. Mobei-jun notices this and wipes it off for him, and though his expression remains impassive his eyes are warm with affection.

Shen Qingqiu almost can’t stand them but wonders if this is how other people feel around him and Luo Binghe. He sets his teacup down with a small clatter. “If I may ask a question,” he begins, “why does he have to be here?” He stares pointedly at Mobei-jun.

“Protection,” says Shang Qinghua while Mobei-jun answers, “I worry greatly for my sweet one’s safety while he is in your presence.”

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t know if the refreshments aren’t to his taste or hearing Mobei-jun call Shang Qinghua by a term of endearment with that face makes him want to spit. “Very well,” he says, flicking open his fan.

Shang Qinghua pushes away a straying hand on his thigh and gestures at Shen Qingqiu to pick up where he left off. For someone who ran away from him screaming bloody murder less than 10 minutes ago, he seems to have forgotten about the entire ordeal. “Tell him about the baby,” he prompts and Shen Qingqiu has half the mind to not throw his fan across the table.

“I was only going to complain to you,” hisses Shen Qingqiu.

“Whether you discuss it in my presence or not, it does not matter to me,” says Mobei-jun. “I have no interest in anything that does not concern my little lemming, my territories, or me.”

“But if you want, then I could ask Mobei-jun to cover his ears while you talk about it,” suggests Shang Qinghua brightly.

“What are we, kindergarteners?” Shen Qingqiu snorts and rolls his eyes. But he relents anyway, giving Shang Qinghua (and by extension, Mobei-jun) a summarized version of what happened at Mu Qingfang’s office this morning. Mobei-jun shows no interest in what he has to say but when Shang Qinghua leans in with interest, his pointed ears twitch and he eventually listens in.

“Ok, that’s … kind of weird,” opines Shang Qinghua. “Not about the baby or whatever but —” He breaks off, scratching his head with a bemused frown. “Given how the chances of getting impregnated by a half-demon like Luo Binghe is pretty low. You’d have to be doing it at least way more often than what you said …”

“You mean like that time me and Binghe were caught during pollen season for the Dew Butterfly Peony?” asks Shen Qingqiu.

“How many times did you do it in a day?”

“None of your business!” Shen Qingqiu retorts and Shang Qinghua jumps in his seat. Mobei-jun sends him a warning glare, which he ignores. “How likely are the chances?”

“Eh.” Shang Qinghua frowns. “I’d say like less than 0.5%? I don’t remember but I’m pretty sure it’s a 0-point-something-something figure.” He shrugs and Shen Qingqiu curses inwardly. No wonder he was such a shitty writer. He can’t even make up his mind over his own details in the story. “It’s not such a big deal. However,” he adds quickly when Shen Qingqiu glares at him, “you can increase the chances of conceiving a baby with him by —” his voice drops to a whisper, “— doing it several times and keeping it all in.”

Shen Qingqiu only has a couple of seconds to bask in the bliss of ignorance before realization hits him like a truck. He nearly drops his fan when he remembers a specific evening which might be the reason why he’s pregnant with Luo Binghe’s child now. 

Shen Qingqiu was panting hard against the sheets, his body a languid mess on the bed. All the strength had left his body following the release of his orgasm so all that held his hips raised in place was Luo Binghe’s hands alone. He was a wreck, an overstimulated wreck, and the fact that Luo Binghe was pounding ruthlessly into that sweet spot with that Heavenly Pillar of his and murmuring about how beautiful and perfect he looked like this wasn’t helping him at all. He didn’t even have the strength to moan Luo Binghe’s name. The breathy gasps and pleading whines are the only noises spilling out from his lips.

By the time Luo Binghe comes down from his climax, he makes sure to pull out of Shen Qingqiu as slowly as possible. The drag of his cock slipping away from his walls, the sensation of his husband leaving him, makes Shen Qingqiu tighten in protest. As if that tiny action alone can stop Luo Binghe in his tracks. The apologetic brush of lips on his bare shoulder, over the lovely bruises on his pale skin, appeases him somewhat. 

“I don’t want it to spill out from you,” Luo Binghe whispers, his hand caressing Shen Qingqiu’s sides.

“I don’t want you to leave,” replies Shen Qingqiu.

Luo Binghe smiles and kisses his cheek. Shen Qingqiu feels so empty without him, both physically and emotionally. 

Reaching past Shen Qingqiu, Luo Binghe retrieves the jade phallus that disappeared in the sheets following their passionate lovemaking and slips it into his husband. Shen Qingqiu almost rejects it. The sensation of its smooth surface gliding against his walls is nothing like his husband’s cock: it’s cold, unyielding and somehow unwelcome. It also doesn’t feel like the right size, doesn’t brush against his walls the same tantalizing way or have the same give as he clenches around it experimentally. 

But Shen Qingqiu lets Luo Binghe sheathe the phallus inside him. Now, all of his husband’s seed is safe inside of him.

He doesn’t want a single drop to spill from his hole while they sleep tonight.

Shen Qingqiu wants to crawl into a hole and die. The whole breeding and buttplug kink had sounded sketchy when Luo Binghe discussed it with him prior to doing it but it was mind-blowing when they actually did it. Plus, Luo Binghe’s technique had improved greatly since the first time they did it (that was the bamboo house, of course , after the Bingmei vs Bingge showdown, not during that end of the world disaster event). It got to the point that the right look from Luo Binghe would have Shen Qingqiu half hard in an instant — it was sort of like that Pavlovian conditioning experiment, except with Luo Binghe’s bedroom skills.

Shang Qinghua stares at Shen Qingqiu with wide eyes and glances at Mobei-jun as if that cold-blooded demon could be bothered to care, then back at Shen Qingqiu. His eyebrows seem to be trying to escape into his hairline. “No,” he breathes, hands to his now reddened cheeks. “You tried out the thing in Resentment of Chunshan Volume 15, Chapter 9, by Liu Su Mian Hua?”

The question snaps Shen Qingqiu out of his thoughts. “The what , now?” he asks. “Wait, why the fuck are you reading that stupid fanfiction of me and Binghe?” he demands, a part of him horrified that Airplane-bro, the person who writes the most unnecessary and worst papapa scenes Shen Qingqiu had ever read in his previous life, even read such a book and remembered which specific chapter this kink was explored!

“Who said I was?” Shang Qinghua ducks behind Mobei-jun’s broad frame. “Look, I was just curious why it was doing so well in this world!” He squeaks when Shen Qingqiu jumps to his feet.

“I —” Suddenly, Shen Qingqiu feels faint. He sits back down quickly, shutting his eyes to stop that unpleasant dizzy sensation in his head. His heart is pounding hard against his chest. When he opens his eyes again, Shang Qinghua is watching him with wide-eyed concern. Even Mobei-jun looks surprised. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he admits. 

Shang Qinghua purses his lips. “Y’know,” he says, his voice gentle, “you don’t have to keep it if you don’t want it.” He fidgets, fingers disappearing into the shoulders of Mobei-jun’s unnecessarily fluffy fur cloak. “But I think you should speak to Luo Binghe about it first. Sit him down and discuss your pregnancy with him. After all, it’s his baby too.”

Shen Qingqiu sighs and looks down at himself. His robes, though accentuating the slenderness of his figure, are loose-fitting. Right now, there is no obvious physical change to his body but Shen Qingqiu wonders when the bump on his belly will become visible through his clothes. He runs a hand over his abdomen and somehow finds the gesture almost comforting.

“Yeah, I guess I’ll tell him tonight.”

After a long day of handling pressing matters in the Demon Realm, Luo Binghe rushes back to the bamboo house as soon as he can. Though his husband had promised he’d inform him about Mu Qingfang’s diagnosis, Luo Binghe did not receive a message-talisman from Shen Qingqiu so of course he was anxious the whole day. He barely got through the meeting with the Ghost King of the Underworld without worrying out of his mind for his husband’s mysterious condition.

Luo Binghe hops off his sword as soon as the bamboo house comes to view, nearly jarring his legs from the height of the drop and breaks into a jog. “Husband!” he calls out as soon as he crosses the threshold.

“Welcome home! Wait in the dining room.”

Luo Binghe frowns at the strange request. Usually, his husband would’ve appeared now and given him a kiss on the cheek and the lips for his safe return (that was Luo Binghe’s favorite part of coming home, besides getting to spend time with him). But quickly he registers the mouthwatering scent of cooking and realizes, Oh, Husband is making dinner for me. 

His heart squeezes with immeasurable fondness in his chest. Although he always insists on making their meals for them, it’s always nice when his husband takes on the task, even if the meals he prepares are simple. It’s the effort, love and care he puts into it that Luo Binghe deeply appreciates.

Despite his husband’s request, Luo Binghe sneaks into the kitchen to have a look at what Shen Qingqiu was cooking. It was quite a sight to behold: his husband standing by the stove, slowly stirring the contents of the pot with a look of measured thoughtfulness. He takes a small scoop of whatever he’s cooking with a spoon and tastes it, pausing to consider whether it has enough seasoning before nodding to himself. He turns to reach for something when he jumps at the sight of Luo Binghe peeking by the doorframe.

A smile of exasperated amusement curves his lips. “Binghe, what did I tell you?” he says as Luo Binghe enters the kitchen.

“‘Wait in the dining room,’” answers Luo Binghe obediently. Shen Qingqiu puts his spoon down, wipes his hands on a cloth before spreading his arms. Luo Binghe doesn’t hesitate stepping into his embrace, wrapping his arms around his husband and giving him a chaste peck on his temple. “Forgive this husband, but I missed you dearly.”

Shen Qingqiu laughs, drawing back only to kiss his cheek. “You always miss me.”

“Every moment we’re apart, my heart aches for you.”

Shen Qingqiu may snort and smack Luo Binghe’s arm playfully for saying such shameless things but Luo Binghe can tell from the way his husband’s cheeks dust pink at his words that he loves hearing it as much as Luo Binghe enjoys saying it. Luo Binghe pulls him in for one more lingering kiss before Shen Qingqiu wriggles out of his arm. “Be a good husband and set the table for me, will you?”

“Of course, my love.”

Luo Binghe does as he is told and when he has finished his task, he makes some tea for the both of them. He peeks over Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder and he sees that his husband has made congee for dinner tonight. Luo Binghe’s heart swells at the memory of the first time he had served the dish to Shen Qingqiu when he was younger; the dish will always hold a special meaning in his heart. 

Shen Qingqiu joins him shortly with their food. Tonight’s dinner is a bowl of steaming fish congee garnished with thinly sliced scallion and strips of ginger, accompanied by a couple of side dishes. “This husband tried to make it the way you showed me,” says Shen Qingqiu, sounding somewhat self-conscious, as Luo Binghe takes a bite. “I hope it’s to your liking.”

“How can it not?” Luo Binghe loves anything his husband cooks for him; there’s no dish that Shen Qingqiu could make that isn’t to his liking.

Shen Qinqgiu blushes at that question but smiles. He picks a few of the side dishes for Luo Binghe before helping himself. 

They eat their meal in silence, enjoying each other’s company and exchanging soft smiles across the table. When they’ve finished eating, Shen Qingqiu asks Luo Binghe about his day managing the Demon Realm and how that meeting with the Ghost King of the Underworld went. Luo Binghe gives him a summarized version of the things they discussed and then the things he did. “But enough about me,” he says. “What about husband?”

“Hm?”

“I was worried all day about Husband’s condition,” says Luo Binghe. Shen Qingqiu’s eyes widen before he reaches for his cup of tea. His husband’s reaction causes Luo Binghe’s stomach to twist with unease. 

Was he alright? What did Mu Qingfang say? Was his condition curable? How did he acquire it?

But Luo Binghe keeps quiet and waits for his husband to speak. He will tell him about it, Luo Binghe doesn’t need to push it. 

Shen Qingqiu puts down his cup. His expression, though outwardly calmer in appearance, still carries a faint hint of nervousness. “Binghe,” he begins with some difficulty. Luo Binghe unconsciously leans closer, eager yet anxious to hear what he has to say next. “Binghe, this husband is aware that what I’m about to say would sound absurd —”

It wouldn’t, Luo Binghe wants to protest. Husband need not worry about this one’s reaction!

“— but please bear with me,” continues Shen Qingqiu. He raises his gaze to Luo Binghe’s, lips drawn together in a worried line. His hand twitches and Luo Binghe takes it as a signal to reach out for it. Shen Qingqiu’s hand tenses with surprise but his fingers eventually wrap around Luo Binghe’s, squeezing his hand. He offers a grateful smile before continuing, “Husband is going to be a father.”

At first, Luo Binghe doesn’t understand him. What could he possibly mean by that? Luo Binghe hasn’t laid with anyone else besides his husband. But he takes one more look at Shen Qingqiu’s face, searching for some sort of explanation, when realization dawns on him. His mouth falls open with surprise. “A father?” he echoes faintly. He glances down at their intertwined hands then at Shen Qingqiu’s nervous smile. “Husband?”

Shen Qingqiu laughs but it sounds strained; even the curve of his lips don’t seem quite right. The news must’ve shocked him too when he received it and he had yet to accept it. “I know, it is a surprise, isn’t it?”

“I —” Luo Binghe blinks. “Are you … “ His eyes trail down Shen Qingqiu’s body towards his abdomen. “With my child?”

Shen Qingqiu nods. He lets go of Luo Binghe’s hand — some part of Luo Binghe mourns for the loss of contact, the loss of his husband’s gentle touch — and reaches into his sleeve to pull out a scroll. Luo Binghe’s heart does a slow flip in his chest as he takes it from Shen Qingqiu.

It’s Mu Qingfang’s diagnosis, though written in neat handwriting that isn’t his (Luo Binghe knows his shishu can’t write this nicely). Luo Binghe’s ears ring slightly as he reads the scroll carefully, word by word and line by line, once, twice and thrice before putting it down. “Oh,” he can hear himself say faintly.

Shen Qingqiu’s lips press into a thin, anxious line. “Husband?” He reaches out to hold Luo Binghe’s hand. “I’ve given it some thought but I believe you deserve the right to decide too. You … it’s alright if you feel that … that we’re not ready for this yet. But what this Husband is trying to say is that if you would prefer not to keep this child —”

“No,” Luo Binghe blurts out, eyes wide. Shen Qingqiu gives a small start at his outburst. Luo Binghe shakes his head quickly. “I mean, I would also like to know what Husband wants to do about this child. Your decision is important too.” He runs his thumb over Shen Qingqiu’s knuckles in a reassuring gesture. “You are carrying my child after all.”

Shen Qingqiu blinks slowly then turns his face away. Though he knew deep down Luo Binghe would always be considerate of his feelings, he hadn’t expected his husband to answer like this. Not with that soft and gentle tone, those thoughtful eyes of his searching Shen Qingqiu’s face and definitely not those exact words. He only anticipated two reactions: a teary but enthusiastic “Yes, please, let’s keep the baby!” and an awkward and stiff “ I’m sorry, Husband, but I … I do not want it.” 

But in truth, Shen Qingqiu couldn’t answer Luo Binghe’s question. He has given it plenty of thought after visiting Shang Qinghua but the more he tried to consider reasons on both options the more he didn’t know what to decide. To keep the child or not to keep the child, that is the question. There was so much uncertainty, worry and confusion but at the same time, joy 

“I don’t know,” admits Shen Qingqiu helplessly. “I’m so sorry, Binghe, but I don’t know what to do.”

Luo Binghe’s gaze softens. “That is alright. We do not have to decide so soon. It is an important decision, after all,” he says gently. 

“We’re keeping the baby.”

Shang Qinghua, who was slurping on his cold sesame noodles, begins to choke promptly. His coughing attracts the attention of a few other customers in the shop. Alarmed, Shen Qingqiu thrusts his cup of tea to him and Shang Qinghua quickly gulps it down. 

“Wait, really?” Shang Qinghua asks, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. “That’s great, bro! I’m … Wow.” 

Shen Qingqiu rolls his eyes at him but hidden behind his fan is a smile of his own. Under the table, his hand reaches to smooth over his stomach where the baby should be developing now. His baby, he corrects himself inwardly. His and Binghe’s baby. “You don’t need to act so excited,” he murmurs, the tips of his ears slowly turning red.

Shang Qinghua grins. “Well, congratulations!” 

“Don’t,” warns Shen Qingqiu when the stupid An Ding Peak Lord makes a move to stand up, “embarrass me in this shop. I quite like their special dish here.”

Shang Qinghua sits back down quickly but bounces in his seat with excitement. A barrage of questions are launched at Shen Qingqiu: “Have you two decided on a name for the baby yet? Do you prefer the baby to be a boy or a girl? Ooh, can I be the kid’s godfather? Are you going to tell the other Peak Lords later at the meeting?”

The answer is a resounding no to all of the questions, except for the last one. Actually, Shen Qingqiu isn’t sure if it’s appropriate to report such things at the meeting; after all, the purpose of their gathering is to report on the matters of their respective peaks, raise any miscellaneous problems to the encountered and discuss future agendas. Oh, Shen Qingqiu should remind them that their intersect Go tournament was next week; it was Qing Jing’s turn to host it. But a casual “Oh, by the way, can I ask if a parental leave for a Peak Lord can be granted? Just asking because I’m expecting a baby with my husband,” would probably be out of the question.

“It doesn’t have to be during the meeting,” Shang Qinghua points out with a frown. “You can just do it after the meeting! When we’re all having dinner together.”

Shen Qingqiu’s expression sours. At the thought of his pregnancy announcement, he can already anticipate his fellow Peak Lords reactions. Although, at Shen Qingqiu’s insistence, the ‘unofficial’ rule that banned Luo Binghe setting foot in Cang Qiong mountain has been lifted by Yue Qingyuan, there were still those who didn’t fully appreciate Luo Binghe’s presence in the sect. They only tolerated him out of respect for Shen Qingqiu, whose peak was ranked higher than all of theirs except for Qiong Ding Peak. Imagine their reactions at Shen Qingqiu saying he was pregnant! 

They’d surely spit blood!

Except for Liu Qingge — he’d probably make Luo Binghe spit blood. (He’d also come to the wrong conclusion about how this baby was conceived too. Ah, what was the point of having such a pretty face if he had such a volatile personality?)

When they emerge from the noodle shop, their disciples are waiting outside to escort them to Qiong Ding Peak for the meeting. It seems their disciples are in a good mood after their Peak Lords took them all down the mountain to enjoy themselves in town. Standing among them is none other than Luo Binghe. Qing Jing’s disciples seem unbothered by his presence in their midst, even with his status as a Heavenly Demon Lord, and going as far as having a casual conversation with him. An Ding’s disciples were not as friendly, casting skittish looks in his way that reminded Shen Qingqiu of their own Peak Lord.

“Shizun.” Luo Binghe turns to Shen Qingqiu with a soft smile. “Did you enjoy your meal with Shang-shishu?”

“Mn.” Shen Qingqiu nods at him before glancing at his disciples. He doesn’t even need to say anything as they all mount their horses except for Ming Fan, who was in charge of driving Shen Qingqiu’s carriage. It’s supposed to be the Head Disicple’s duty to help their Peak Lord into the carriage but Luo Binghe relieves Ming Fan of this (or rather, he vehemently insists on doing) before joining him.

(Shen Qingqiu loves and is exasperated by how stubborn Luo Binghe can be on accompanying him to meetings, even if he can’t enter the meeting hall himself.)

They enter Qiong Ding without much trouble but at the meeting hall, the pair of disciples who are supposed to be ushering the Peak Lords and their respective Head Disciples, take one look at Luo Binghe leading Shen Qingqiu by the arm (while Ming Fan trails behind them) then exchange looks. 

“I’ll see you in the evening,” says Shen Qingqiu, giving Luo Binghe’s hand a squeeze before entering the room with Ming Fan. 

Some of the Peak Lords are there already in their respective seats with their Head Disciples standing by attention at their sides. A Qiong Ding disciple passes out a scroll with the agenda for today’s meeting before Yue Qingyuan makes an appearance himself.

The meeting goes on for the whole afternoon, with light refreshments breaks in between. Shen Qingqiu personally doesn’t enjoy the whole affair but does his best to sit through it all. If Bai Zhan’s war god can sit still and not kill anyone while the meeting is ongoing, Shen Qingqiu can sit through it. He’s more than relieved when they are led to the dining hall.

The atmosphere is optimal. Now that the meeting is over and all issues have been addressed, the Peak Lords are considerably relaxed, even Liu Qingge who is enjoying his cup of wine and tolerating Wei Qingwei’s recount of something that happened over the weekend. Shen Qingqiu feels a bead of sweat breaking out on his nape. His anxiousness flutters in his chest as he waits for a lull in the conversations around him to make his announcement. Shen Qingqiu can’t even bring himself to enjoy the meal.

Spotting him from across the room, Shang Qinghua gives him a discreet thumbs up. 

Shen Qingqiu takes a deep breath. He can do this. It’s not like an explosion would go off in the room, the buildings outside would collapse, Cang Qiong mountain would crumble to dust — none of that! He will be alright. As soon as he makes up his mind, a hush falls on the room as Shen Qingqiu stands up. 

Shen Qingqiu can hear his ears ringing. His mouth feels like it’s been stuffed with wool as he tries to swallow back his nervousness. All those eyes on him … — Shang Qinghua gives him yet another thumbs-up and Liu Qingge glares at him suspiciously. Shen Qingqiu suppresses a laugh behind his fan. 

“Fellow Peak Lords,” he begins, inwardly surprised at how calm and collected his own voice sounds, “I have an important announcement to make.”

Qi Qingqi narrows her eyes. “If this is about that Go tournament —”

“It’s not. I’m not issuing a challenge,” he says quickly. He could never beat Qi Qingqi, no one could. She was the queen of Go. Shen Qingqiu clears his throat once more. “It is with great joy for me to inform you that I … am expecting a baby with my dearest husband Luo Binghe.”

The room is silent, so quiet that Shen Qingqiu is certain everyone can hear the frantic beating of his heart in his chest, before exploding into uproar. Shang Qinghua has started clapping, doing his best to pretend like this is news he hadn’t heard before. Liu Qingge’s jaw drops while Qi Qingqi is staring at Shen Qingqiu like he just sprouted another arm. Mu Qingfang is unconcerned, picking away at his meal and probably thinking of doctor things. Wei Qingwei nearly spills wine on himself. And Yue Qingyuan, well he hardly has any other reaction than smiling, of course, but Shen Qingqiu thought there was a wistfulness to his expression.

The disciples, on the other hand, are hopping to their feet with their jaws unhinged, a stream of questions leaving their lips. Except for Liu Mingyan; she watches with a sparkle in those eyes. (Oh, don’t you pretend Shen Qingqiu doesn’t know about what you think of him and his husband!)

Somewhere among the voices, Shen Qingqiu can hear Ming Fan sobbing. 

“That is wonderful news,” says Yue Qingyuan, the warm timbre of his voice audible over the confusion. “This shixiong would like to congratulate Qingqiu-shidi and his husband …”

Several months have passed since Shen Qinqgiu announced that he was expecting a baby with Luo Binghe to the other Peak Lords and to the Qing Jing disciples. Over that time, the changes on his body had become more apparent. His ‘baby bump’, as Luo Binghe had delightfully called it (among other things), was the most prominent physical change of his body.

He is currently in the last week of his second trimester and the effects of pregnancy were swiftly catching up to him. Being pregnant wasn’t fun, and he will say that frankly, not with the mood swings and bouts of fatigue and all the wonderful things people tend to gloss over about pregnancy. Oh, and the cravings too; Shen Qingqiu can’t count the number of times he had to wake Luo Binghe up in the middle of the night to make him food. But if anyone asked Shen Qingqiu whether he’d want to change his decision to bear Luo Binghe’s child, it would still be an unequivocal ‘No.’

He stands by the doorway of the bamboo house, drawing a deep breath and enjoying the cool and fresh breeze passing by. His hand rests on his now swollen tummy, a habit he developed since his tummy got bigger, a gesture he used to find bemusing but now comforting. He wonders if his baby can feel his touch as he gently caresses his tummy. 

“Your Die will be coming home in an hour or so,” he murmurs. “He’s a little busy with managing the annual Demon Realm meeting today but he promised to be home as soon as possible to see you and Ba,” he continues in a low, soothing voice. He feels the tiniest kick against his inner walls, as if the baby was excited about Luo Binghe coming home, and smiles. 

He returns to the comfort of his room and carefully sits on the bed with a grunt. Next to the bed on the nightstand are a couple of scrolls he had commissioned Shang Qinghua to write for him and his baby the other day. (He even held that useless author at swordpoint to make it child-friendly.) Pulling one of the scrolls from the pile, he unrolls it and begins to read it aloud for the baby.

Shen Qingqiu is halfway through the story, which is decent and child-friendly for someone like Shang Qinghua to write, when he hears the sound of footsteps at the front door. “Ah, Die is home,” he says to the baby as he puts the scroll away. “Let’s go greet him.” By the time he has pulled himself out of bed, Luo Binghe is standing by the door of their bedroom. 

“Welcome home,” says Shen Qingqiu as Luo Binghe rushes over to him. A small laugh escapes him as Luo Binghe kisses each of his cheek while his hand gently rubs his belly. “Say hello to Die.”

Luo Binghe makes a small noise of excitement when he feels the baby nudge his hand through Shen Qingqiu’s belly. He drops down to his knees with a broad smile. “Are you happy to see Die? Die came home from work early to see you and your Ba.” Admittedly, it was a bit embarrassing but endearing to witness Luo Binghe speaking to their baby like that but Shen Qingqiu’s heart always swells with affection to see how much Luo Binghe loves their unborn child.

Then he feels a mild stirring in his body, not from the baby but from the remnants of Luo Binghe’s blood in his body, the sensation gathering in his abdomen to surround his womb. He remembered being alarmed at the sensation but now he simply let it be as it was his husband’s way of greeting the baby; he’s certain the baby appreciates it too.

“Die will go make dinner now,” says Luo Binghe as he rises to his feet. He gives Shen Qingqiu a lingering kiss on the lips. “Please be a good child and behave for Ba, okay?” 

Shen Qingqiu continues to read where he left off while Luo Binghe prepares dinner. Although he’d prefer to help Luo Binghe in the kitchen, moving around too much makes him fatigued and he’s already rearranged the scrolls and cleaned up his office this afternoon. After finishing the story, Shen Qingqiu decides to go and see what Luo Binghe is cooking. Judging from the smell wafting into the room, it’s probably one of the recipes Luo Binghe learned recently; Shen Qingqiu’s stomach grumbles in response.

When his husband is cooking, Shen Qingqiu does his best to stay out of the way and observe from a safe distance — Luo Binghe often gets distracted when he’s within reach, silly affectionate husband — with quiet appreciation. Luo Binghe, in the middle of putting the ingredients in the pot, gives him a warm smile before putting the lid down. “Dinner should be ready soon,” he says, wiping his hands on a cloth.

“Mn. Then I shall set the table and make the tea for the two of us,” says Shen Qingqiu.

“For the three of us,” Luo Binghe corrects him cheekily, placing a kiss on the back of his head before darting away with a giggle when Shen Qingqiu shoots him a look of fond exasperation. He returns shortly after Shen Qingqiu returns from the dining room, wrapping his arms around his husband from the back and resting his chin over Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder. “I love you both so much,” he murmurs, his voice low with contentment.

Shen Qingqiu laughs, shaking his head, but his hands move to rest over Luo Binghe’s where they rest on top of his belly. “Husband is being such a sap today,” he remarks.

“This husband is always a sap everyday.”

“That is true.” Shen Qingqiu reaches over to ruffle Luo Binghe’s hair and hears a soft sigh of satisfaction. “You’re only going to become a lot worse once our child is born,” he says affectionately.

“I promise,” Luo Binghe agrees cheerily. 

After dinner, the two of them wind down for the evening. Luo Binghe and Shen QIngqiu get changed into their evening loungewear and take turns combing each other’s hair, asking about each other’s day. Although Luo Binghe’s day sounds exhausting on its own, meeting various important figures from different demon tribes and having to put up with their ridiculous demands, Shen Qingqiu also had quite a day overseeing the Qing Jing disciple’s monthly cultivation assessments this morning. 

“Husband should not overexert himself,” says Luo Binghe with concern. “It is not good for both you and the baby.”

“I hardly did anything besides watch the disciples and rate their performance,” Shen Qingqiu points out but he can’t argue with Luo Binghe on this, especially since even doing the most menial tasks can tire Shen Qingqiu faster than he used to. “But this husband will keep that in mind next time,” he adds.

Luo Binghe reads one of Shang Qinghua’s stories while his hand rests on top of Shen Qingqiu’s swollen belly. His tone is soft and soothing and so is his touch that Shen Qingqiu finds himself nodding off at times, only stirring back to wakefulness when he feels Luo Binghe’s hand move ever so slightly in a caress on his abdomen. Luo Binghe notices, nothing his husband does in his presence escapes his eye, but continues the story without interruption, the only indication of his amusement being the slight quirk of his lips. When he finishes the story, he puts the scroll away and turns to Shen Qingqiu. 

“Would Husband like to move to the bed?”

Shen Qingqiu almost says no, and that he isn’t sleepy at all, but the bed sounds … nice. And besides, he has been dozing off at intervals through the story (not because Shang Qinghua’s stories were boring, it’s just that his husband has such a lovely bedtime-storytelling voice) so he nods and lets Luo Binghe help him to the bed.

It’s earlier than usual for bedtime but Luo Binghe puts out the candles in the room and joins his husband in his bed. He lays carefully on his side, scooting close to his husband, and pulls the sheets over the both of them. For a few minutes, they lay there in silence, their only form of communication being each other’s touches, slow and languid but comforting.

“Mu Qingfang said Husband is due in a little more than a month or so, right?” asks Luo Binghe, his thumb brushing over Shen Qingqiu’s cheek.

“Mn.” Shen Qingqiu tucks away a strand of hair falling over Luo Binghe’s face. “This Husband is … nervous about it.”

“Understandably so.” Luo Binghe kisses him. “I am also a bit anxious …”

Shen Qingqiu smiles; it’s nice when he’s not the only one worried about the whole process. Mu Qingfang had already informed them beforehand of the procedure but the fact that with each passing day his due date approaches didn’t make it any less nerve-wracking in its own way. Oh well, if anything, as long as Luo Binghe was on his side Shen Qingqiu would gladly endure anything. Even childbirth.

“Binghe?”

“Hm?”

Shen Qingqiu hesitates. “Do you think our baby will be a boy or a girl?” he asks. Although this world doesn’t have ultrasounds to check, the other day when Shen Qingqiu went to visit Mu Qingfang for a checkup, the Qian Cao Peak Lord asked if he’d like to know after checking his meridians. Shen Qingqiu had said no then, because he wanted it to be a surprise to both him and his husband. But recently the question has been lingering at the back of his mind now.

“It does not matter to this husband,” answers Luo Binghe without hesitation. “Whether our baby is a boy or a girl, all that matters to me is that our baby is healthy. I would never dream of asking anything more than that.”

Shen Qingqiu laughs but the small knot in his chest dissolves, allowing relief to course through him. “Then,” he ventures, “do you think our baby would look more like you or me?”

This time, Luo Binghe takes his time to answer. A slow sheepish smile spreads across his lips. “I think our baby would look more like you.”

“Really?” asks Shen Qingqiu, surprise coloring his tone. “Why is that?”

“Because I think Husband is the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my life.” Luo Binghe’s eyes are full of love and reverence, and though the intensity in his gaze is familiar, paired with the warmth in his tone, it still makes Shen Qingqiu blush. He nudges Luo Binghe with his foot but Luo Binghe seems pleased to have caused such a reaction. “What does Husband think?” he asks curiously.

Shen Qingqiu twirls a finger around a lock of Luo Binghe’s hair, eyebrows knitted together. “Perhaps the baby would have Binghe’s eyes. Binghe has the prettiest eyes, after all. They remind me of stars in the night,” he murmurs as he releases the hair. His fingertips slide up to Luo Binghe’s cheek, tracing over his cheekbones, the line of his jaw before resting on his mouth. Then, out of lighthearted mischief, he boops the tip of Luo Binghe’s nose playfully and grins at the way Luo Binghe smiles shyly at that.

“Truthfully, this Husband does not mind who our baby resembles more,” admits Luo Binghe with a thoughtful hum. He brings Shen Qingqiu’s fingertips to his lips and kisses it before laying his husband’s hand on his cheek. “The baby would be beautiful, just like both of their parents.”

Shen Qingqiu blinks, realizing he teared up a little before hastily wiping his eyes. Luo Binghe catches this and, through the darkness of their room, looks faintly startled. “Husband, what’s the matter?”

“It’s nothing,” says Shen Qingqiu when Luo Binghe stares at him with wide-eyed concern. “Husband is just happy to be married to a wonderful man like you.” At his explanation, Luo Binghe relaxes with a smile and the hand resting on Shen Qingqiu’s hip squeezes in a lighthearted manner. 

“This husband is happy too,” says Luo Binghe, his hand moving back to Shen Qingqiu’s belly. His Heavenly Demon blood stirs under Shen Qingqiu’s skin as he says, “To be blessed with both a wonderful husband and a child.”

“The baby isn’t out yet, Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu reminds him playfully.

“But still,” insists Luo Binghe. He chuckles when he feels the baby nudge against his hand before using his Heavenly Demon blood to tease the baby. 

Shen Qingqiu makes a noise of languid amusement, his hand coming to rest over Luo Binghe’s hand. “Alright you two,” he says with weary amusement. “Ba wants to sleep. I’ve had a long day.”

“Of course.” Luo Binghe gives their baby one last tickle before letting his Heavenly Demon blood fall back to dormancy in his husband’s body.

Shen Qingqiu’s breaths begin to even out as he drifts to sleep, his eyelids growing heavy over the sight of a sleepy Luo Binghe gazing at him adoringly. “Goodnight, my love,” he mumbles as his eyes fall shut.

Luo Binghe's lips brushing over his eyelids are as light as butterfly wings. “Sweet dreams, my dearest.”