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As he tumbled into the Endless Abyss, moments after shoving Luo Binghe into that same void and having tragically dropped his sword as the ground gave way, Shen Qingqiu called for the System.

Enjoy it? How was he supposed to survive the fall without a sword?! He tapped the System’s interface but it had stopped responding. He was supposed to have five peaceful years before Luo Binghe returned, not plummet into the abyss with him! What was with this timing? Why was the ground only unstable when he’d stood on it alone? Why couldn’t it have collapsed under Luo Binghe so Shen Qingqiu hadn’t been forced to stab him?!

That good-for-nothing Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky hadn’t spared more than a few sentences for the abyss, but given his tendency to name everything literally, it must be deep. Shen Qingqiu hoped he was falling fast enough to be killed on impact. He didn’t want to lie broken, waiting until some unnamed demonic creature finished him off. Nothing like this had happened to the original flavor! If anyone deserved to fall into an abyss, it was that guy. It had all been a waste, all of Shen Qingqiu’s efforts since he’d awoken in this world. He hadn’t avoided Luo Binghe’s fate, and he was going to die sooner. Which was a more shameful death: a cultivator unable to summon his sword, or choking to death on a bun?

Maybe he’d transmigrate into another body. The hero this time, a stallion novel of his own with a robust harem.

At least the screams had stopped. He’d left them at the rift where souls clamored to climb out. The air grew dry, stinging his eyes. Tears streamed from their corners against his will. He clamped his eyes shut, hugging himself to brace for impact. Heat built as though he was falling into an oven. Maybe he’d fry to death before he reached the bottom. But after another minute it cooled to a comfortable temperature and his velocity decreased, like an elevator slowing down.

Daring to open his eyes, he beheld a crimson sky that faded to twilight. His motion slowed further, so he was able to turn upright and land on his feet. The ground was spongy. He tested it with a toe to be sure it wouldn’t collapse, then summoned an energy sphere, holding it out to examine his surroundings.

He called, “Binghe?”

The void swallowed his voice. The sphere sputtered and went out. Huh? He summoned another and called again. He’d fallen straight down, in nearly the same spot where Luo Binghe had gone over the edge. He must be nearby. Shen Qingqiu listened. There, to his left: a cry. He walked in that direction.

Sure enough, he soon came upon a faint red glow and Luo Binghe crouched on the ground, a hand over where Shen Qingqiu had pierced him. He didn’t seem to hear Shen Qingqiu approach over his own sobs, but startled at the sight of his shoes and bolted up.

“Shizun!” Luo Binghe’s smile dissolved into tears. “As I expected, Shizun has thrown me away.”

Shen Qingqiu thought quickly. He needed Luo Binghe in order to get out of the Endless Abyss, so he needed an excuse for why he’d shoved him.

“Who threw you away? I’m here, aren’t I?”

“But Shizun stabbed me.”

“You can’t handle such an insignificant injury? Did I raise such a weakling?”

Luo Binghe sniffed and rubbed his eyes. “It was an act?”

“If you understand, calm yourself.” Shen Qingqiu took out a handkerchief and held it against Luo Binghe’s chest to stop the bleeding. Luo Binghe watched him through watery eyes.

“Shizun doesn’t hate me?”

Shen Qingqiu felt a stab of guilt. “How could this master hate his own disciple? Didn’t I come after you?”

A moment later, he was wrapped in Luo Binghe’s arms.

“I knew Shizun would never hurt me. I knew what you told me wasn’t lies.”

Shen Qingqiu didn’t want to encourage this sort of clingy behavior, but it was safer for him if Luo Binghe wasn’t mad. He lightly patted his back. “Have you explored far?”

“I’ll scout the area now. Shizun, you stay here.”

“I’m coming with you. Our voices don’t travel here.”

“I’ll protect Shizun.”

Shen Qingqiu opened his mouth to protest but changed his mind. The faster Luo Binghe amassed demonic energy, the faster they could get out. No way was he spending five years in this place.

“Let’s start this way,” Shen Qingqiu said, strolling toward indistinguishable dark masses in the distance. Like a dog, Luo Binghe trotted beside him.

Shen Qingqiu quickly learned that the terrain in the Endless Abyss was as varied as the terrain in the Mortal Realm. They walked as far as the base of a towering rock formation before he felt too tired to continue. They made camp in a cluster of boulders. While Shen Qingqiu rested, Luo Binghe gathered what food he could find, mostly mushrooms of various shapes and worrying textures.

“I’ll find more tomorrow,” he said apologetically. “Shizun, eat.”

Normally Shen Qingqiu would’ve practiced inedia, but the realm sapped his energy. What were the chances a mushroom from the Endless Abyss was safe to eat?

Neither of them had died by the time Shen Qingqiu’s eyes slipped closed. He settled against a rock, crossing his arms over his chest. Luo Binghe tucked against his side.

“Goodnight, Shizun,” he said. Within a few seconds, his head lolled heavily against Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder.

What am I, your pillow?!

Shen Qingqiu watched him sleep. What would a happy Luo Binghe look like emerging from the abyss? If he didn’t harbor resentment toward his beloved teacher who had gone willingly with him into another realm, then the rest of Shen Qingqiu’s life should be bliss. Lending his shoulder was a small investment.

They wandered for days across a desolate plain. With every step, Luo Binghe seemed more invigorated, but Shen Qingqiu’s legs grew weary. The poison’s effects were heightened here. It had already blocked three of his meridians. His energy sputtered. Eventually he couldn’t take another step.

“Binghe,” he said, sitting down. “This master needs to rest.”

Luo Binghe was on his knees in a flash. “We’ll stop for the night.”

Shen Qingqiu shook his head. “I need to meditate for a few days.”

“Is Shizun injured? Forgive this disciple for not being more courteous.”

There was no point in keeping the truth from him. He’d have to rely on Luo Binghe to counter the poison’s effects while they were here.

“Binghe, put your hands on my back. Channel energy into me until I tell you to stop.”

Luo Binghe did without question. Within minutes, Shen Qingqiu’s spiritual energy circulation normalized. He waited until he detected no more irregularity, then held up a hand.

“Enough. Thank you.” Shen Qingqiu relaxed as Luo Binghe’s energy settled within him. “I’ll ask you to do that occasionally.”

“I’ll happily give Shizun all of my energy.”

Shen Qingqiu regretted the fan that had slipped out of his robes during the fall. He pretended to clear his throat and hid his face against the back of his hand. Though the energy flow had stopped, Luo Binghe was still touching him.

“Can that dream demon of yours help us?” Shen Qingqiu asked.

“I haven’t been able to reach him.”

Shen Qingqiu sighed. “Go find something to eat.”

Over his shoulder, Luo Binghe held out a mushroom. “I selected it for Shizun earlier. It’s the one you don’t mind so much.”

He moved to sit opposite Shen Qingqiu, resting his chin in his palms to watch him eat. Whenever Shen Qingqiu took a bite, Luo Binghe languidly blinked, dark eyelashes brushing his cheeks.

“Why do you look so happy?” Shen Qingqiu demanded.

“Because I’m with Shizun.”

“Your Shizun might be the only face you see for years. Are you still happy about it?”

Strangely, Luo Binghe’s smile widened.

On the sixth day, they discovered Xiu Ya lodged in a boulder.

The sword vibrated as they grew near, like a dog shaking in unfamiliar territory. Shen Qingqiu summoned it to him. Years in the abyss would surely taint him, but with his sword, he’d be able to maintain his cultivation. And he wouldn’t be completely reliant on Luo Binghe.

So far they’d only encountered a few low-level species tantamount to rats. Like swatting flies, Luo Binghe had disposed of them bare handed. When the next one approached, an amorphous mass that bobbed like a squirrel’s tail, Shen Qingqiu flicked Xiu Ya. The mass exploded, splattering his cheek. With his sleeve, Luo Binghe dabbed it away.

“Is Shizun alright?”

Scowling, Shen Qingqiu said, “Do you honestly think this master would be harmed by such a creature?”

Luo Binghe shook his head. “No. I knew Shizun would protect me.”

Feigning irritation, Shen Qingqiu continued in the direction they’d been walking, leaving Luo Binghe to scamper after him.

Tracking time in the abyss was impossible. Shen Qingqiu kept a mental history of landmarks, of changes in Luo Binghe. When they started across a vast mountain range, he was still rosy with innocence; by its peak, his chest and shoulders were wider. There was a sharpness to his jaw, a different motivation in his step. His hands, when he extended one to help Shen Qingqiu across uneven ground or placed them on his back, had grown larger—bigger than Shen Qingqiu’s. The ends of his hair, which he still wore pulled up, brushed his back instead of his collar.

It had grown another hand’s length by the time they reached the other side of the mountains. Although it was the same dark miasma they’d left behind, Shen Qingqiu nearly fell down and kissed the flat ground. In his previous life, he’d been an indoors type, not the sort to climb mountains for the better part of a few years, but anything was better than having your limbs wrenched off.

Luo Binghe spread out a hide from some unnamed thing they’d killed on the ascent—a Four Horned Tiger Vulture, if Shen Qingqiu had to guess Airplane’s half-assed thinking—and motioned for Shen Qingqiu to sit. He whipped out the fan that Luo Binghe had constructed from reeds he’d harvested along mountain streams, and concealing his face, sat with his back to him. Without a word, Luo Binghe swept Shen Qingqiu’s hair aside. Almost immediately, his dual energies loosened the blocked meridians.

“Shizun has looked more tired lately.”

We just crossed a mountain range, what do you expect?!

“Now that we’ve reached the other side, won’t Shizun allow me to construct a place for us to live?”

Shen Qingqiu shook his head. “It’s important we keep moving.”

“Shizun keeps saying that.”

“Trust your master.”

Luo Binghe’s hands pressed more firmly into him. “I wish Shizun would tell me more about this place. Without knowing how long we have to stay here, can’t I want you to be more comfortable?”

“You know as much as I do.”

“Then why does Shizun insist we never stay in one place for long? Before we fell, you said it was necessary for me to be here. What does that mean?”

“You couldn’t very well hone your demonic powers on Qing Jing Peak.”

“But why would you want me to hone them at all? I thought Shizun wanted me to resist that part of myself.”

“Suppressing it would be more dangerous. How can you hope to control something you know nothing about?”

Luo Binghe’s hands slid up to Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders and gently kneaded the tight muscles. “Does that mean Shizun will allow me to return with him to the Mortal Realm?”

“Why wouldn’t I let you return with me?”

Luo Binghe’s thumb dug into a particularly sore spot. Shen Qingqiu groaned.

“Am I hurting you?” Luo Binghe asked.

“No. Binghe . . .” They’d never find Xin Mo if they stayed in one place. How was he supposed to tell him about the sword without telling him everything else? “This master appreciates you thinking of his comfort, but it’s more important we find a way out.”

“Is Shizun that unhappy being here with me?”

Who wouldn’t be unhappy here? This is the Endless Abyss, okay!

“I want us to go back to the Bamboo House,” Shen Qingqiu said. “This master misses your cooking.”

“When we return, this disciple will cook for you every day.”

What was this, a proposal?! The mushrooms must be going to his head. Shen Qingqiu loudly cleared his throat. Luo Binghe’s energy had a different essence lately; it tingled as it circulated Shen Qingqiu’s body, like spice on the tongue.

“Enough.” He swatted Luo Binghe’s hands away. “Let me sleep.”

He lay down on the hide and covered his eyes with a sleeve. There was rustling as Luo Binghe lay down behind him. A moment later, he rolled into Shen Qingqiu’s back. This was not the first time they’d slept like this; in the mountains, it had been unavoidable when conditions were cramped, or when storms gusted through the abyss. Feeling as poorly as he did right now, he couldn’t afford to upset a certain glass heart, not when he might require additional energy at any second. If he was honest, it was pleasant to sleep beside someone.

His eyes snapped open when a hand snaked over his waist.

“Binghe . . .”

“This disciple is cold.”

I can feel the heat rolling off of you!

“Binghe, I know you’re lonely, but you shouldn’t—”

“I’m not lonely. I’ve never felt lonely for a moment, nor afraid. With Shizun beside me, I feel like I can do anything. I can’t believe you were willing to leave everything behind and come here with me. Every day that passes here is the happiest of my life. Shizun, please don’t say that you’re lonely being with me.”

Shen Qingqiu’s face had flushed so red, he felt sunburned even though there was nothing like a sun here. “How could I be lonely with as much as you talk?”

Laughing quietly, Luo Binghe hugged him from behind. “I promise to find a way out of here. I promise to get Shizun home.”

Shen Qingqiu swallowed the lump forming in his throat. “Mmm. That’s good. No more talk of shelters. If you’re so obsessed with construction, you can add onto the Bamboo House when we’re back.”

Luo Binghe nodded against the back of his neck. When had he put his face there?! Too tired to mind, Shen Qingqiu closed his eyes.

“I miss the sun,” he murmured.

Sometime during their fourth year of wandering, Shen Qingqiu’s condition worsened to the point where Luo Binghe was giving him energy several times a day. Often they walked hand in hand so he could deliver a steady stream of it. The longer they were in the abyss, the more demonic energy circulated in Luo Binghe, so more demonic energy passed into Shen Qingqiu with each transfer. Not having a drop of demon blood within him, his body rejected the strange qi, but without Luo Binghe’s energy, the alternative was a miserable death.

He didn’t want to sleep with the protagonist. He wasn’t that far gone!

Holding hands was tolerable. Luo Binghe was over the moon. They only separated long enough for him to slaughter whatever crossed their path. He’d clean his hands and clasp Shen Qingqiu’s again before taking another step. Initially, Luo Binghe had clung to his sleeve, but as the weeks accumulated, he’d adjusted his hold so that their palms were pressed together, and Luo Binghe’s fingers threaded through Shen Qingqiu’s. It was a good thing they were in the Endless Abyss or they’d be the laughing stock of the cultivation world!

Today they were walking along a ravine. Luo Binghe walked closer to the edge. His chin was lifted, chest held out. He looked thoroughly contented. As though he could feel Shen Qingqiu’s eyes on him, he turned his head and smiled down at him, then returned his gaze to the path.

“This disciple feels guilty. I’m so much stronger here, but Shizun looks worse every day.”

“What’s there to feel guilty about? It’s natural you’d be fine here.”

Luo Binghe squeezed his hand. “Shall I carry you?”

Clucking his tongue, Shen Qingqiu turned his head away. “You talk like this master is infirm.”

“I worry my energy soon won’t be enough. Even now, I can feel your circulation is weak.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Shizun is my first priority. How can I not worry about you every moment?”

Shen Qingqiu had no comeback. He stumbled at a sudden weakness in his legs, unable to walk any farther.

“Binghe,” he said calmly, not wishing to frighten him. “Perhaps . . . perhaps this master was too hasty. This is a good spot. Build a shelter. Let’s rest for a while.”

In the perpetual twilight, Luo Binghe’s eyes glowed a soft red. He took both of Shen Qingqiu’s hands in his and nodded.

He helped him to the edge of a skeletal forest where he foraged for materials. To preserve what circulation he had left, Shen Qingqiu sank into a meditative state, surrounding himself in a protective sphere. It crackled like weak fire but slowed his deterioration. He was aware of Luo Binghe’s movements, but eventually reached so deeply within himself, the world fell away.

When he reemerged, he was seated inside of a small house with a single window. Luo Binghe was asleep at his side, his head pillowed on Shen Qingqiu’s lap. Though he scowled, Shen Qingqiu examined his hair. By the length, he’d been meditating for a few months. Hunger blurred his vision. He pressed his hands into the floor to keep from tipping over. The movement roused Luo Binghe, who rubbed his eyes and sat up. Seeing Shen Qingqiu awake, he broke into a smile and flung his arms around him.

“Shizun, welcome back.”

The air was heavy with demon blood, though there wasn’t a speck on Luo Binghe. A small fire rolled in a hearth on the opposite wall. Something on a skewer was roasting.

“Is Shizun hungry? I was just making dinner.”

“How long has it been?” Shen Qingqiu asked.

“Maybe half a year. I was afraid of disturbing Shizun, but your color hasn’t been right lately. I must’ve fallen asleep transferring energy to you.”

Yeah, right! Who transfers energy in that position?

Shen Qingqiu glanced around the house. “You built this?”

“It’s not as grand as Shizun’s house on Qing Jing Peak, but it’s better than sleeping outside.” Luo Binghe ducked his chin. “Forgive this disciple’s impertinence, but I washed Shizun’s robes while he was meditating. There’s a lake nearby. The water is clean.”

Looking down, Shen Qingqiu realized he was wearing only his inner robes. “Ah,” he said, reddening. “I’ll bathe before dinner.”

“There’s a basin outside. I lined it with stones. Or I can escort Shizun to the lake. There’s nothing frightening in it anymore.”

Shen Qingqiu raised an eyebrow. “How many things have you killed while I’ve been occupied?”

“This disciple has lost count.” Luo Binghe sounded embarrassed. “I promise Shizun that I only killed things that approached the cabin, or that posed a threat.”

Patting Luo Binghe’s hand, Shen Qingqiu struggled to his feet. “I wasn’t accusing you. How did you manage all of this?”

“I learned about construction from taking care of Shizun’s house. I applied what I could remember. Without proper tools, the result is crude. I borrowed Shizun’s sword without his permission. This disciple apologizes.”

“No need. This might as well be a five-star hotel.”

“A what?”

Shen Qingqiu cleared his throat. As though he could read thoughts, Luo Binghe pressed the fan into his hand. To look at him, Luo Binghe must be at least twenty years old now.

“You’re taller,” Shen Qingqiu observed.

“Does Shizun dislike it?”

Giving him a playful whack, Shen Qingqiu said, “Where do you get these ideas? Besides, what would you do if I’d said yes? Remove your own legs?”

Come to think of it, he probably would!

“Ah, Binghe . . .” Shen Qingqiu quickly added, then tried to think of a request. “This master’s legs are weak. Help me to the basin.”

Melting into a smile, Luo Binghe slung an arm behind Shen Qingqiu and guided him out the door. His teal robes hung from a line affixed to the house. Luo Binghe kept hold while Shen Qingqiu washed his face and politely turned his back while he dressed.

“I’ve made a simple comb,” Luo Binghe said. “If Shizun permits, may I comb your hair?”

Why do I get the feeling you’ve been combing it all this time?!

“Fine,” Shen Qingqiu said, feeling generous now that he had a roof overhead. Sure, the sky here was gloomy and the food tasted like dirt, but he had all but guaranteed himself a fully intact life once they located Xin Mo!

They went inside. Shen Qingqiu sat cross-legged on the pile of hides beneath the window. Luo Binghe removed his hair piece and combed the length of Shen Qingqiu’s hair.

“Is Shizun feeling better?” he asked.

Shen Qingqiu checked his body. His meridians were open, though he could feel the same rustiness that had slowed him down before. Still, he nodded.

“You mentioned a lake. How far have you gone from here?”

“Never far enough to put Shizun in danger.”

Inwardly, Shen Qingqiu groaned. “We’ll start today.”

“Shizun . . .” Luo Binghe paused in his ministrations, then began again at Shen Qingqiu’s scalp. “What if there is no way out? You must’ve seen the souls trying to escape when the rift opened. What if we have no control over whether we can leave?”

“We’ll find something. Don’t you want to see Qing Jing Peak again?”

“Is this not enough?” Luo Binghe said mournfully.

Sighing, Shen Qingqiu turned around. “Binghe, this master is sorry he left you alone for so long.”

Luo Binghe was breathing through his mouth. The symbol on his forehead pulsed a warm red. Shen Qingqiu thought he was about to burst into tears when Luo Binghe suddenly leaned forward and pressed his lips to Shen Qingqiu’s.

“Shizun,” he whispered.

I’ve indulged him too much! Shen Qingqiu thought. Who said you could kiss me?! He raised a hand and awkwardly patted Luo Binghe’s cheek as he turned away.

“No need for tears. Now show me that lake, hm?”

Luo Binghe kissed him again but obeyed, helping Shen Qingqiu to his feet. Like they’d done in the past, he kept hold of his hand as they walked. Shen Qingqiu opened his fan to cover his face. Why was he blushing? Why did Luo Binghe look so satisfied?

These thoughts pinged his brain during the walk to the lake. It resembled sludge, but the surrounding luminescent flora gave it a not-altogether-ugly appearance.

“There’s nothing left that can hurt you,” Luo Binghe said. “Shizun, you can bathe if you like.”

He sat down on the shore.

“Planning to watch?” Shen Qingqiu said.

“Keeping an eye out. Things are drawn to water here just like the Mortal Realm.”

That’s not comforting! Still, it had been ages since he’d had a proper bath. This might as well be a famed hot spring. Leaving on his inner robes, Shen Qingqiu waded into the warm black lake, toes sinking into coarse sand. He waded as high as his knees, bending to wet his arms. Unseen creatures buzzed over the slosh of water. If you didn’t look at the starless red sky overhead, it was possible to pretend this was a normal lake at night.

He’d waded in up to his shoulders when something brushed his ankle. On instinct, he blasted it. A corpse the size of a red panda bobbed to the surface. Disgusted, he shoved water at it with both hands, propelling himself backwards.

“Shizun!” Luo Binghe called, getting to his feet.

“It’s fine. Nothing this master can’t handle.”

But Luo Binghe was already entering the water. Before he reached Shen Qingqiu, something else brushed against his leg, something much larger than the corpse bobbing a distance away. Shen Qingqiu unleashed another blast as he kicked, swimming toward the shore. The blast exploded the surface of the water, exposing a pig-sized demon that Luo Binghe tore to pieces with a shout.

Having reached the shore, Shen Qingqiu panted in relief. His palm tingled with residual energy. He lit a sphere, casting it across the surface toward Luo Binghe. The sphere was unsteady, flickering like a flame in the breeze. One by one, Shen Qingqiu’s meridians froze. He gasped, shaking his arm as though it would restore the flow, but it was no use.

He called for Luo Binghe, who, on hearing the desperation in his voice, forgot about the creature he’d been mauling and sprinted toward him. Shen Qingqiu felt himself being lifted, the wind on his face as Luo Binghe ran with him back to the house. Luo Binghe’s energy pulsed against his meridians but couldn’t shift the blockages. The scent of demon blood made Shen Qingqiu nauseated. He covered his mouth and nose, failing to focus his mind.

They reached the house. Luo Binghe lay Shen Qingqiu on the hides and transferred energy into him like they had all those times, but no matter how much he transferred, Shen Qingqiu’s circulation did not return. Without spiritual energy to hold it back, the poison would overtake him any moment.

“Still better than becoming a human stick,” he murmured.

“Shizun, don’t talk!”

While he still had the strength, Shen Qingqiu fondly patted his head. “Binghe, this master has to go now.”

“No! I won’t allow it!” Luo Binghe tearfully embraced him. “Whatever it is, tell me. I’ll fight it.”

“Stay good, yes? Be patient with them when you get back. They’ll be prejudiced, but you must make them see you’re still a disciple of Qing Jing Peak.”

“You can’t leave me. You promised not to leave me!”

As a final act of pity, Shen Qingqiu stroked Luo Binghe’s cheek and kissed the mark on his forehead. Luo Binghe lifted his chin. Their chests were pressed together. Shen Qingqiu could feel Luo Binghe’s heart. He looked between his eager eyes and made a decision.

Placing both of his hands on Luo Binghe’s face, he kissed him hard enough to make his intentions clear. With a cry, Luo Binghe pulled Shen Qingqiu on top of him. Every time their lips met, Shen Qingqiu felt a stirring in his core, like a motor trying to restart. He let Luo Binghe undress him and held out his arms so Luo Binghe’s naked body was pressed against his. Shen Qingqiu’s heart raced. This was better than death. Luo Binghe’s lips touched him everywhere and he didn’t mind.

“Binghe,” he whispered. Luo Binghe took it as an invitation. He explored between Shen Qingqiu’s legs, pressing into him with a finger, and when that didn’t feel so strange anymore, he aligned their lower halves. Shen Qingqiu expected pain. Being entered by something that size had to hurt, but the pain wasn’t close to what he’d anticipated, more of a burning itch.

“Shizun, does it feel good?” Luo Binghe asked. “I’m trying to keep it from hurting.”

It did feel good. With every shallow thrust, the blockages moved, and by the time Luo Binghe had found his rhythm, they’d been demolished. Shen Qingqiu lay on his back moaning, his energy circulating like it hadn’t for years, fingernails digging into Luo Binghe’s shoulders. He’d come between their stomachs; Luo Binghe came inside of him and lay down on Shen Qingqiu’s chest.

He’d had sex with the protagonist! Wasn’t that the one thing he said he’d never do?!

Luo Binghe nuzzled his neck. “Shizun, please don’t say you’re going to leave me. I’ll do anything you ask. I’ll cut my heart out and give it to you.”

With both hands, Shen Qingqiu stroked his hair.

“Ah, it seems things have stabilized for now,” he said.

Luo Binghe hugged him tightly around his ribs, then lifted his head to kiss him. “What can I do to make Shizun happy?”

Get off of me, Shen Qingqiu thought. You’ve grown so heavy. “Help me up,” he said. “Let’s eat, then we’ll start looking.”

Luo Binghe cradled Shen Qingqiu’s head as he lifted him from the ground and held his hands as they stood. Fluid leaked down Shen Qingqiu’s inner thighs, but he refused to look as Luo Binghe cleaned him up.

Then Shen Qingqiu spotted a familiar object leaning against the wall.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“That?” Luo Binghe turned his head. “A sword I found while building this house. It cut through rock easier than Shizun’s sword, so I kept it despite its suspicious origin. Is Shizun upset?”

Of course I’m upset! You’ve had our way out all this time!

Shen Qingqiu paused mid-mental shout. “You can control it?”

Luo Binghe nodded and passed the sword to him. “It’s not as elegant as Shizun’s.”

“What will you call it?”

“The inscription reads Xin Mo.”

Shen Qingqiu feigned disinterest as he put on his robes. “Let’s go outside and test its abilities. Some swords are able to cut pathways between realms.”

Luo Binghe looked disappointed. “Is Shizun in such a hurry to leave?”

“Build me a house in the Mortal Realm!” Shen Qingqiu blurted. Like twin red stars, Luo Binghe’s eyes burned.

“I’ll tear open the realm with my hands if Shizun desires it.”

“Outside, now!”

Luo Binghe stole a kiss as he went past, holding the door open for Shen Qingqiu, who hurried through without a glance backwards, only to dart back inside when he realized he’d dropped the fan. He whipped it out to cover his face, and as Luo Binghe unsheathed Xin Mo and dragged it across the fabric of the abyss, offered a hand.