#its like the zzl situation all over again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

monroeknoxwrites · 1 year

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ming fan/zhuzhi-lang wip

Post canon, t4t ming fan and ning yingying develop a fwb type deal. It's going great until mf misses a dose of his baby-b-gone pills…

To make matters worse (for him), the day he builds up the courage to tell nyy, she reveals she fell in love. Asks him if they can end their arrangement.

He can't bring himself to say it now. Just agrees and hides the news.

He throws himself into his work, volunteers for full snake babysitting duty. Far away from his fellow disciples where he can sulk in privacy. Except for zzl.

At shizun's request, zzl was put under mqf's care. His injuries were significant and left him in a coma for months on end.

zzl proves difficult during his recovery period. Needs close supervisor once he regains consciousness so he doesn't attempt yet another ill-advised escape. Not that he gets far in his condition.

Outside the ward in his quarters, he reverts to his true form. Its too weak and his injuries reopen. But he tries many times. Once he learns junshang survived as well.

Other than playing guard and caretaker in one, mf occasionally powers up the ward with spiritual energy. He isn't strong enough to keep zzl in the right form, facilitate his healing. It's more like throwing an extra log on a fire someone else expertly built. Adding fuel.

The two spend a month together in complete silence. Neither has the desire to speak with the other and has more important things on their mind.

Supplies are brought in by other disciples. mf refuses all their offers of switching with shixiong, giving him time to himself.

By the third month cohabiting, mf starts showing.

In such close quarters, under his keen eye, zzl notices. He's seen a pregnant person before. Remembers the fascination he felt looking on her all those years ago. The errant thought that his mother must have looked the same.

mf ignores the stares. Just like he tries ignoring the problem all together. An increasingly impossible and stupid course of action as his body gets bigger.

He absolutely doesn't tell nyy. How can he?

One day mf becomes nauseous so quickly and suddenly he can't make it outside in time. He's heaving his guts and the fresh meal nyy sent over into a tea pot full.of cold water. When the last of it subsides, he hears a voice ask "are you alright?”

He glares from his position on the floor, face hovering over a container of his own sick and water.

"do I look alright?" he snaps back.

zzl simply stares calmly back at him. Says no more.

The nausea gets worse. mf starts keeping a bucket nearby and eats only light, small portions.

It happens while he's in the middle of juicing up the ward. He breaks the connection, scrambles for the bucket. His hair comes loose from his ponytail as he does.

After several awful heaves, the last few dry, he notices his hair isn't sticking to his face or in the bucket. He pants, wiping his mouth clean with the back of his hand, staring blankly at the man hovering at his side.

Holding his hair back.

He broke the ward in his haste.

Panic rises up nearly as fast as the sick. He isn't a match for the snake demon in this condition. If he's honest with himself, he isn't his match at all. He gapes, sour mouth working uselessly. A hand subconsciously covering the growing bugle of his stomach.

zzl tracks the movement. He releases mf's hair and steps back.

"Are you alright?" He asks again, same tone as the other day.

To mf's amazement he doesn't bolt for the door or lash out. He stands a few paces away, staring at him with quiet patience. Awaiting an answer.

In the days and weeks and months he has been trapped in cqm, zzl has had plenty of time to think. Once the initial kneejerk reaction of "find junshang at all costs" proved fruitless, his mind turned to the reality of his situation.

His injuries were grave. Surrounded by cultivators, he had little chance of escaping the qing jing peak, let alone the entire mountain.

What use would he be to junshang half-dead and ill-formed once more?

So he decided to let the cultivators have their way.

They clearly wished him no harm. As much as he felt imprisoned, he was not so single-minded he couldn't recognize what they were doing for him.

He just had no idea why.

The sulky cultivator designated as his guard had no interest in him.

Not even a few words passed between them in weeks, good or bad. The cultivator fed him, provided items for his hygiene, and privacy, revitalized the ward that healed him.

But he barely gave zzl a passing glance. Like himself, his mind was evidently elsewhere.

Time passed slowly in this quiet routine. With little else to do, zzl studied the cultivator. At first it was just common sense, sizing up the enemy and familiarizing himself with their movements, weakness, habits.

Then it shifted more towards curiosity.

He noticed the cultivator had no desire to leave. He refused any attempts at relieving him from duty. His refusals we're so form that the others stopped asking.

Who would wish to spend all their time cramped in a small two room building with a prisoner?

zzl found the beginnings of an answer the morning the cultivator bent to grab something off the floor. This one has a very lean frame and this new angle had the fabric of his robes stretched over a bump on his front.

A bump, he observed, that only grew more each day.

Then came the violent nausea.

zzl inquired if he was alright and silently accepted the curt rebuff it earned him.

One or two instances became a regular occurrence. The cultivator had trouble keeping food down.

zzl thought back to the female cultivator that captivated junshang, that started all these events into motion. The sight of her round belly.

The swift sequence of disbelief, uncertainty, joy flashing in junshang's eyes. He settled in the end on mischief, cooing at her belly about a job done well.

He didn't know how to feel about it then. After everything that's transpired since, he still doesn't.

But this cultivator's predicament piqued his interest.

He observed the deepening worry lines on his face as the problem grew.

Without much knowledge to go on, zzl knew that's what it was at least.

If it were junshang convalescing against his own will here, he'd make conversation. Question the cultivator on the issue. Weave fanciful tales of secret trysts, moments of stolen passion leading to heartbreak.

zzl lacked the imagination or the desire for placing wild guesses.

Whatever his story, the cultivator had let his guard down. Nausea overtook him during one of his routine replenishing of the wards and severed the connection.

zzl admitted his first impulse was to run. Strike the distracted cultivator down and make for the door. At his current strength it would take him mere seconds to accomplish.

Whether he successfully escaped from the mountain itself would another matter.

He dismissed it easily as one does stray thoughts. On light steps, he approached the miserable man retching all the food in his belly it seemed.

Hair was matted to his sweaty face, the ends dangling dangerously close to the bucket.

zzl blinked at it, at his own hand ending in dark razor sharp claws delicately gather the strands. Hold them away.

Once the cultivator finished he noticed zzl's close proximity, his absence from the ward and the horrible mistake he had made.

He stared open mouthed, wide-eyed. zzl followed the movement of his hand — not reaching for a weapon but cradling that ever-growing bump.

With the cautious movements one uses near a spooked animal, zzl released his hair and stepped away. Beyond striking distance for either.

"are you alright?" he asked, expecting much of the same answer. He felt compelled to ask nonetheless.

Panic morphed into bewilderment on the cultivator's face, his own expectations very clear.

That brought them to the current moment, staring at each other in silence save for dying pants.

mf breaks first, a sound erupting out of him that is part cough, part scoff. He wipes the remaining sick and tears away as he stands.

"If you're not going to kill me or run, step back into the ward," mf says instead of an answer. His voice comes out raw but resigned. None of the snappish anger zzl thought he'd receive.

This bout of nausea particularly wore him out.

zzl complies.

Their conversation ends there. mf restores the ward, disposes of his sick, and disappears to find water.

He doesn't reenter the room until dinner.

"Thanks," mf says gruffly while sliding the tray of food across the ward to zzl. "For not killing me."

His voice quiets a bit and he adds "And the— the other thing."

zzl accepts the tray and regards the cultivator who stares at a point just above his shoulder.

junshang's voice sounds in zzl's head, urging him to ask with rapt interest and very little tact, "has your lover abandoned you? Is that why you hide in this shack?"

He mentally waves it away. The pang of separation remains.

"Killing you provides little benefit," he settles on.

The cultivator seems relieved he doesn't mention the hair holding. "shizun feels the same about killing you.”

zzl pauses, bun half way to his mouth.

He hadn't thought of master shen in these past months. It'd be way to write it off as his mind had other things to consider: his captivity, escape, returning to junshang.

But in truth, he avoid thinking about him on purpose.

His feelings for master shen are… Tangled. A pit of snakes where one cannot tell where one's tail ends and another's body begins.

He was honoring a kindness, he told himself. Deflected and denied all of junshang's insinuations.

It was the only time he lied to junshang's face. From his expression, junshang knew anyway.

Had master shen called for his head, while he was at the mercy of cqm, zzl wouldn't hold it against him. He'd only regret not returning to junshang's side. But how useful could he be in the state he was when they brought here?

How useful had he ever been, in the end?

True to his nature, master shen did not ask for his execution. He was the one responsible for his recovery, the mending of his battered and broken body.

He had a vague, half-memory of a hazy green figure visiting his bedside. Warm fingers touching his wrist, muffled words that put him at ease.

zzl stares at the bun. The cultivator who brings him this food--regarding him now with an arched brow--is master shen's disciple.

All of his needs are met by this cultivator. And by extension, master shen…

"Do you think my shizun would poison you after all this time? Waste all his efforts," the cultivator quips, less spiky than he was on their first exchange of words. "Can your kind even be poisoned?”

"master shen has poisoned me before," zzl replies and takes a bite out of the bun.

"Ehh??”

mf waits for the demon to elaborate but he simply eats his meal in silence.

It feels too awkward continuing the conversation after that, so he retires for the evening. The nap from earlier hadn't revitalized him at all.

This troublesome kid…

As he slipped into bed, mf thinks of the strange look in the demon's eye when he mentioned shizun.

Shizun saved him, convinced the other peak lords to spare him.

Does he still hold a grudge? About that past poisoning?

mf reasons this person is a demon so it isn't precisely dishonorable for his shizun, a peak lord of cqm, to poison him. /If/ he's telling the truth.

There's something about the way he speaks, matter of fact and placidly, that mf is inclined to believe him.

The little troublemaker shifted inside just as he drifted off. He runs the spot, scowling with his eyes closed.

Behind his eyelids, he recalls the moment the demon's yellow eyes glanced at his hand doing the same. How the action cause him to back away.

"He could have killed me," mf mumbles quietly to himself, the restless baby in his belly. "You and me both. Embarrassingly easy."

He's silent for a beat, throwing a look at the door separating them.

"But he didn't.”

mf repeats the phrase drowsily to himself a few times until it becomes nonsense and he drifts off to sleep, hand outstretched on his growing stomach.

The next few days pass in oddly companionable silence. They go about their routine as though nothing had changed but there's a different feel to it now.

mf is sick each day. That doesn't change either.

He resents agreeing to that stupid arrangement every time he's hunched over the bucket. As he drinks water trying to wash away the sour taste in his mouth.

He's bitterly angry at himself for botching the pills mqf gave him. After he gathered all his courage to sit through the most awkward conversation of his life.

Mostly he's scared. And a bit sad.

He gave up that stupid infatuation with nyy so many years now he hardly remembers having feelings for her at all. It seems silly even trying. They are friends. The only close friend mf has.

And nyy has a lover now. A real one. Not someone to fill a need.

How can he ruin that by telling her about the baby? Wouldn't that put unwanted expectations on nyy?

If shizun found out, would he demand they marry?

What will people say when he can't hide it anymore? They'll make all sorts of assumptions about him.

If he doesn't tell nyy, will she think he did those types of things with just anyone?

A knock at the door rescues mf from the sinking hole of questions dragging him deeper and deeper.

He shakes them loose and rises to answer. Until a voice on the other side has him freeze in place.

"Dashixiong? Are you sleeping while you should be working?”

nyy's tone is light, teasing, but mf goes cold all over.

He rearranges the front of his robes — a task made all the more difficult with the tremor in his hands. He can feel zzl's eyes on him but he can't be bothered about what he's thinking right now.

Another knock then nyy calls again, voice mildly concerned. "Dashixiong? Are you there?"

"I'm here, I'm here!" mf grumbles as he opens the door. It takes a great deal of will power to meet her eyes.

He's so afraid she'll know. If the bump doesn't give him away.

nyy stares at him for a moment and mf swears it's all finished.

He breaks first. "I'm here. Did you really think I'd fallen asleep?"

"No," nyy says slowly. She glances over his shoulder at zzl, sitting quietly in the wards at the back of the room.

"When you didn't answer right away, I worried our, um, guest may have caused you problems."

mf follows her gaze, grateful for the short reprieve. He scoffs.

"Him? Shizun's esteemed guest is too busy having me tend his every need to cause problems.”

He turns back to find her big eyes scrutinizing him once more.

"Are you really alright?"

mf had been asked that same question a few times now. He'd rather hear it from the unlikely mouth of a snake demon than his friend and shimei.

He doesn't have a ready answer.

"You've been here for months now, refusing to let anyone else take your place."

"It's- It's an important task. I can't trust it to the others." mf fumbles his words.

nyy looks unconvinced.

"Your face is a paler and thinner but," Her eyes dart down. "But you've noticeably put on weight."

A lump rises in the back of his throat. As though sensing his panic, the baby kicks.

Or maybe it senses its mother nearby.

That thought has his stomach lurching. How fortunate he emptied it not long ago.

mf blurts out the first thing that his floundering mind grasped onto. "The pills."

"Pills?" nyy repeats, entirely lost.

"Those pills," mf clarifies in a hushed voice. The pink rushing to his face isn't an act.

Few people within qing jing peak knew about their arrangement, and what reason he needed such pills. He isn't exactly comfortable discussing it in front of others. Least of all a demon.

The irony of that being the demon knew more of the situation than nyy did.

nyy's brows raise as realization hits, mouth in a little "o" of recognition. Then her lips curl in a knowing smile.

"Still so embarrassed about such things. Dashixiong is too cute.”

The sudden heat on his face chasing away the cold sweats leaves him a little lightheaded. He draws the sharp line of his mouth tighter.

"shimei teases me too much. I used them for her, in case she's forgotten.”

The sharp edge of his tone has her smile faltering. He pushes on, mood suddenly soured.

It's a relief from the crippling panic. "What did you need?"

"I was worried," nyy says, concern creeping into her expression once more.

"There's no need. I'm doing the task shizun asked if me and shimei should do the same."

"Are you angry with me? About ending it?"

Jealousy would be such an easier problem than the one he's quite literally carrying with him now.

"No. What is there to be angry about? We were simply helping each other out until we found something better."

That sounds harsh even to his own ears. nyy frowns.

"Liu-shimei isn't better than you, she's just different.”

"Different then." mf desperately wants this conversation to be over.

But once it is, and nyy goes back to her lmy, he still has to deal with the consequences. Alone.

The fear of nyy discovering his secret, the disruption it might cause her blossoming relationship, has very rapidly been replaced by anger.

He didn't make this problem by himself. Yet he has to carry it, and whatever public scorn that comes with it, on his own.

Otherwise nyy will resent him for standing between her and the person she loves, tying them together with this unwanted child.

He doesn't want nyy to hate him.

The whirl of emotions in the span of a few moments has exhausted him.

"I'm not angry. I'm fine," mf says, hand on the door. "Those… items from mu-shishu. They're to blame."

nyy knits her brows, perplexed by the swift changes in his moods. Doubtful of his words.

"If you say so… I'll ask shizun for tea and some snacks next time I visit here. It may help."

With a few concerned glances, nyy eventually leaves. mf closes the door on the outside world for a little while longer.

He walks straight into his side bed chamber, slamming the door behind him. It rattles the tray of food left untouched by zzl's feet.

His hands itch to break something. His heart demands he break down in tears instead. All of him feels like collapsing on the bed and not moving.

nyy returns sooner than mf would like.

She comes bearing the tea and snacks she promised. It's a wonder shizun was able to convince that husband of his to cook for anyone other than him.

Among the treats is a sachet of medicine. There's a note attached to it. nyy claims she only told mu-shishu he seemed unwell. The doctor gave her the medicine and asked her to deliver it without reading the note.

A quick glance tells him she followed his instructions.

It's something to help with the nausea. mf mumbles his thanks to mu-shishu, folding the note and stowing it away. Pointedly ignoring her inquisitive gaze.

mf thanks her for taking the trouble. He readies to usher her out the door when she retrieves a small parcel from her robes.

She addresses zzl. "Shizun asked me to give this to you."

Up to this point, zzl pretended he heard nothing of the cultivators speaking a few strides away. He stares placidly at the young woman speaking to him now.

The young woman responsible for much strife it seems.

zzl had been subjected to his caretaker's poor mood following her previous visit. That brief period of understanding vanished.

The cultivator didn't mistreat him, he wouldn't dare.

He simply performed his daily tasks shrouded by a foul air.

Whenever he wasn't sick, he scowled and moved about their rooms noisily. Steps heavier than they needed to be, motions stiff, tense. His actions carrying an undercurrent of violence.

He didn't slam the food tray down at each meal but it was a near thing.

Usually, the interpersonal relationships of qing jing disciples held little interest for him.

He's convinced this is junshang's influence. His thoughts turning frequently to his caretaker's predicament as a form of longing for where he ought to be.

He can't conceive why else he'd care.

"Send master shen my thanks," he begins, holding his hand open. The array allowed outsiders to step through but kept those inside contained. nyy smiles, passing the parcel along as he finishes. "Though I would appreciate it more if master shen restricted visitors."

nyy's smile slips. Behind her, mf eyes snap to zzl but says nothing.

zzl levels nyy with his unblinking stare.

"master shen has taken such care with my recovery. I believe he wishes for nothing to hinder it."

nyy withdraws her hand.

"I will relay the message," she replies, none of her usual friendliness. She glances at mf, expecting something.

He shrugs, walking for the door. Opening it for her.

nyy stands stiffly a moment. Waiting. Then leaves with a quiet parting word telling her dashixiong to take care.

They lock eyes once nyy's footsteps fade. The perpetual crease in mf's brows remains, the slight tension of his jaw.

Yet the look in his dark eyes is devoid of anger. For zzl at the very least.

zzl watches him process all that's transpired, accepting that a demon knows more of his personal affairs than anyone else (or so zzl guesses). And this same demon, for reasons unknown, relieved him of a problem causing him untold amounts of stress.

It's clear he doesn't quite understand zzl's actions but mf leans hard into the relief. The tight coil of his body loosening in degrees as he goes about brewing the tea shizun sent and after, the medicine.

It does help. Amazingly well. As to be expected of mu-shishu's skill.

mf eats a full meal without struggling to keep it down for the first time in weeks. Though there is a slight side effect of drowsiness.

By midday he's dozing at his desk.

"You should rest," zzl suggests after the fifth time mf jerks awake where he sits.

mf's eyelids feel so heavy, his body sluggish, he nods easily and retires to his chamber for a nap.

He dreams of green coils, thicker than tree trunks, encircling him.

A far away part of his mind tells him he should be afraid. With so little effort these coils could crush him, reduce his body to rupture skin and shatter bone, a bleeding mass.

But he isn't. They don't.

He's dragged from sleep with the phantom sensation of being held safe, secure.

It takes moment for wakefulness to settle and he understands the muffled sound coming from the other side of the wall is voices.

He's instantly on alert.

Shizun cautioned him of other cqm disciples unhappy that their peak was harboring a demon and one partially responsible for the near destruction of their world at that.

mf thought better of mentioning that shizun regularly and blatantly welcomed a very prominent demon on their grounds. He rushed towards the other room but halted his steps in the doorway.

Standing in front of his charge, not acknowledging him, was lbh.

His presence filled the entire room. mf felt the pressure of it the moment he went to step inside. Heavy, thick in the air. A purposeful display of power.

mf catches a glimpse of zzl over lbh's board shoulders. He remains unmoved by the nearly tangible aura pervading through the array.

"I'm trusting you with his well-being," shizun had said. "Oversee his recovering and guard him against outside influence."

How was he expected to guard against the current demon lord and shizun's beloved?

Forget whether shizun would forgive him, he wouldn't live long enough to worry about it! The days of dashixiong bullying weak little a-luo were a distant memory. One he liked to leave in the past and hoped lbh did the same.

"This cousin of mine," lbh spoke the word with anything but familial affection, "Takes issue with shizun's abundantly generous accommodations?"

"This one wouldn't dare," zzl answers, unflinching.

"Yet you see fit to make demands of him. You who imposes on him still.”

zzl deliberately eyes the array, written in white on the dark brown floor then meets lbh's gaze once more.

"Please tell Master Shen I apologize for inconveniencing him during my extended stay.”

The aura in the room grows thicker. Tiny pinpricks erupt across mf's skin, threatening to become daggers, swords.

He clears his throat, the drowsy haze gone — replaced with only dread.

"Luo Binghe," he calls, voice neutral. "Shizun went through a lot of trouble keeping this one alive. He'd be very displeased if anything happened to him."

lbh turns his attention at last to his shixiong not quite cowering in the doorway.

His penetrating gaze sweeps over the protruding belly; digesting this new information and promptly tossing it aside, uncaring. Disinterested.

mf's face flashes hot as those eyes leave him. Shame, humiliation, and anger roil in his belly. Along with the stirring child.

He strides in front of the array, breaking lbh's line of sight with their guest.

"Has shizun declined his request for no further visitors?"

"He has not." His simple answer a challenge, a sword drawn.

Does dashixiong think he can order me around?

mf wouldn't dream of rising to that challenge. He instead says bluntly, "The sooner he heals, the sooner he'll be off our peak and far away from shizun.”

His ploy is transparent faced with someone like lbh. But he hasn't exactly lied. zzl has made it quite obvious he wishes to be far away as soon as possible.

Reinforcing his point, zzl speaks. "I have no desire to take advantage of Master Shen's hospitality longer than necessary."

lbh glances between them, taking in mf's physical change once more.

"Dashixiong requested this assignment himself? I hear he has rarely left these four walls." He speaks the address with a notable lack of respect. A formality done for the sake of another, not mf's position.

But the implication of his words are the greater slap to the face.

Demon lord or not, shizun's favorite or not, mf's temper reaches its limits.

"You—!" he spits, shaking, vein in his forehead bugling.

A placid voice washes over him, cooling his anger as it meets lbh's own simmering heat.

"Young master thinks too much of me, if he believes I have been capable of much else besides healing."

lbh tilts his chin, staring down his nose at zzl, who has remained sitting the whole while. "Who thinks of you at all? Only by shizun's bequest are you even able to speak with me now.”

"Yes, shizun brought him here. To heal. Then he will return to wherever he belongs. I hope shidi understands." mf holds himself back from shouting, voice strained yet low.

lbh retrieves his aura, the room seeming less enclosed and the air less heavy.

"Then I'll wish for his expeditious recovery."

He makes for the doorway, pausing to address mf one last time.

"Dashixiong take care of himself," he says, eyes cruel, "I will inform shizun you may need less strenuous task in future.”

Then the door closes soundly and lbh's presence dissipates, dark clouds rolling away from the sun.

mf screams. He kicks the bucket he had used for his sick, the now clean wood splintering to pieces on the far wall.

"Unruly brat! Just because he does /those/ things with shizun he thinks--" mf cuts himself off with another shout, another wooden item annihilated under his wrath.

A dull ache in his abdomen halts his venting, hands coming to clutch the spot. He hisses and doubles over.

His whole body goes tense.

He's dimly aware of a voice, closer than it had been, reminding him to breath. He gasps, blindly making his way to his seat. Collapsing into it.

His emotions cycle so quick and sharp in recent weeks.

Anger flushes from his system by pain and a cold dread. Not of lbh but for the little one inside. The pain subsides after a long period, his muscles unclench as he draws in steadier and steadier breaths. He can feel eyes watching over him, even if he cannot see their owner.

He turns and, for the second time that day, seizes up.

zzl is kneeling beside the edge of the array, watching him intently. Eyes huge and yellow, set in an elongated face. Much of his body has grown thinner, as had his hair.

Blood trickles at the corner of his mouth, fangs peeling back his paper thin lips.

The smattering of leaf green scales about his face and hands cover his entire skin now, shining in the lamplight.

He notices mf taking him in and flinches.

The red patch seeping through the layers of his robes darkens, spreads. On the very spot where an injury remained, slow to heal with with all those stubborn escapes.

mf logs the startling revelation away, too busy hurdling himself towards the array to give it much thought.

"Stop moving," he barked gruffly. Halting zzl from retreating further into the space.

Slapping his hands on the white lines, he pumps as much qi as he dares. mqf's framework facilities rejuvenation, stabilizing the patient and preventing escape.

It was not intended to protect zzl from the oppressive aura of an absurdly powerful demon. mf knew nothing of how the two compared but in his current state, zzl is no match. Yet zzl had sat there, unaffected, all the while his internal and external wounds reopened.

It's impressive. mf has little time for admiration. He focuses all of his attention on rectifying the damage. zzl sits stock still, long body curled into himself. He opens his mouth and mf catches a peek at a thin, forked tongue behind his wicked fangs.

He says nothing.

Nightfall comes and the exhaustion begins setting in.

zzl obeyed his command, sitting unmoving in the center of the array. Silently.

He would open his mouth, like before, then close it without a word. A few times. Either unsure of what to say or unable to speak in this form.

His eyes never leave mf.

It's a touch disconcerting, the feeling of being watched by wide unblinking eyes. By the time he disconnects from the array, sprawling on the floor, a bit lightheaded, he finds himself oddly accustomed to them.

He takes a moment to collect himself then climbs to his feet. There's a stiffness in his knees, his shoulders and arms. Nothing a night's rest won't solve.

Surveying the state of zzl's robes, a large splotch of crimson on pale green, he huffs.

"Clean robes," mf mutters, the events of the day clear in his rough voice. "Clean you as well."

"I am capable of cleaning the mess myself," zzl quickly responds, voice a hoarse hiss. Speech returning to him at last.

All disciples learn a basic level of wound care. He should check to make sure his external injuries are stable at least.

"Open your robes, let me see your chest."

zzl, whose features had reverted mostly back to normal, gave him an odd look.

"There is… no need." He says, low, a barely audible hiss.

"This day has been long and tiresome. I can have Mu-shishu visit tomorrow to give you a proper examination but for now just let me see your wound."

"Oh."

zzl lowers his head and complies.

He avoids looking at mf as he enters the array, clean robes and a damp cloth in hand. As he crouches to examine the gash that ran across the entirety of his scaly chest.

"Does it hurt?"

zzl shakes his head.

"Liar. How could that not hurt?"

zzl says nothing.

There's a peculiarity to this silence, the way zzl steals a sideways glance at his words, but mf can't put his finger on it. He's too tired.

"Well, you won't die overnight. Here." He hands him the robes and cloth. "Leave the mess in the corner, I'll deal with it in the morning.”

Pulling the dirty robe closed on his bare chest, zzl rasps a quiet thanks. mf scoffs at the modesty and exits the array. His entire body feels heavy.

He leaves zzl with a few words of advice: "I know demons hide their weaknesses but doing that again will get you killed.”

zzl can't sleep.

He really should, there's hardly a place on him that doesn't ache. The open wounds stopped bleeding but they burn, inside and out, the feel of freshly damaged flesh.

In a diminutive form, conserving the precious energy transferred to him, he lies curled on the bed. His lidless eyes focus on nothing.

Instead the same few images cycle through his mind's eye.

mf hunched in pain.

His view of lbh's black and red blocked by mf's white and green.

mf's dark eyes seeing him, truly seeing him.

Shocked flickered on mf's unique composite of sharp and rounded features but the revulsion, the pity, did not follow.

mf, newly recovered from whatever aches in his stomach he was suffering, flung himself to zzl's side. Hit his knees and placed his hands on the array with a resounding slap.

zzl recoiled, body acting on instinct.

Get away. Get away from him. He's seen me, he--

Next came warm energy surging into his body. mf ordering him be still.

He listened. He stayed put.

He had regressed so far he lost speech, fruitlessly trying to insist mf need not trouble himself. These injuries weren't life-threatening.

'Are you unaware young master caused you harm as well? It was not simply your temper putting the baby risk.'

'Do not overtax yourself on my account.'

'Stop…'

Eventually he stopped trying. Accepted the uninterrupted stream of energy flooding him.

It was warm, much weaker than junshang's and master shen's, not as abrasive as lbh's, yet robust. Sturdy.

Like absorbing heat from a sun-baked mountain rock.

He saw mf asking him to bare his chest. To expose more of himself.

The wound, he wished to examine the wound. Where had his mind gone?

He felt foolish, wondering if he had poisoned his mind with junshang's books after all.

The last image was mf advising him against concealing his weakness.

zzl expected anger. That mf would be irritated he had to expend a great deal of energy and time repairing the damage.

In truth, mf was a touch irritable but it had no teeth. Beneath that thin layer of gruffness, wrapped in tiredness and general frustration, he spoke with concern.

zzl reached that final thought and started from the beginning again.

Over and over until daybreak.

So deep in his thoughts, slipping into a strange meditative state, he missed the sound of a door opening and closing.

He senses mf's approach by the slight vibrations of the bed, a moment before he sits upon it with an amused noise.

"Is this really what you look like? A tiny green vine? A cute little sprout?"

zzl's mind stalls.

"Can you change back?" mf draws his thick, shapely brows together, amusement morphing into concern.

zzl slithers away.

"Hey-!" mf exclaims, grabbing for him.

zzl evades capture with ease. He halts at the center of his enclosure, transforming back now that they were far apart.

The robes mf provided last night hang loose on his lithe frame, loose and too short. It's an easy guess whose stouter body they were made for.

mf stifles a laugh. Poorly.

"I grabbed one of mine then?" He closes the distance, eyeing him up and down. That strange tingling sensation crawls across zzl's skin again, not quite discomfort and entirely foreign.

"You're practically swimming in that thing."

mf lifts one of the loose folds, shaking his head. zzl wants to fidget but he remains still.

"I'll find you another one for mqf's visit." He drops the fabric and zzl is keenly aware of the break in connection. "How are you feeling?"

zzl begins to say he's fine when mf retrieves his soiled robes he left by the bed.

"There's no need."

"No need? You think I want to be scolded by Mu-shishu for leaving filthy robes at his patient's bedside?"

He handles the bloodstained robes without a care. Without disgust.

"What would you do with them in here anyway? I'm not lugging a tub of water for you to clean them yourself."

zzl eyes are drawn to mf's belly, rounder in profile, as he exchanges the dirty robes for clean ones.

'If it were mine, I would never allow you to lift a finger.'

The intensity of his thought, the suddenness of it, startles him.

He had no plans for siring children.

He hadn't ever entertained the idea either. In his mind, it was a fact as solid and immutable as his devotion to junshang.

A fact reinforced by the mother he could not remember and the expectant mother he did.

No, in this life granted to him by junshang, he needed neither wife nor child.

But he owed his life to others as well now.

Master Shen. Mu Qingfang. The cultivator by his side day and night.

Ming Fan.

His own words echo within the chamber of his mind, accepting the clean robes. He barely remembers to thank him.

"I'll go request Mu-shishu take a look at you while you change."

And for the first time in months, zzl is alone in the little house.

All told together, zzl spent half of his life alone. He's used to the feel of it. The absence.

But it's this absence, his, that makes zzl aware of how accustomed he'd grown to feeling mf nearby.

And heightened the ache, so strong it's physical, stronger than any wound. The ache to be by junshang's side once more, to make sure he's alright.

See him alive with his own two eyes. Hear him ramble excitedly about his newest book, endure his teasing.

In what he believed to be his last moments, his own blood on his tongue, zzl only thought of junshang.

He regretted nothing. To die for him was an honor.

zzl's thoughts spiral down until he stoppers them like a bottle of medicine. Or poison. He places it in aside, not burying it but disregarding it for now.

He waits amid the silence for mf's return.

And he waits.

And waits.

The shadows grow long and still he waits.

Dusk folds into night but mf doesn't return.

Someone else does.

zzl hears footsteps; the sound drawing him from the silence shrouding his thoughts. He notices they don't belong to the person he's waiting for before he even has time for relief.

The young woman from last time enters. Her bright exuberance gone.

The doctor who tended his wounds, thwarted his first desperate attempts at escape, enters close behind her.

"I was told our guest requires aid."

zzl nods. His wounds were long forgotten during the interminable waiting.

"Good. Then I haven't wasted a trip."

With the female cultivator remaining by the door, he crosses the ward.

"Open your robes."

zzl does as he's asked, exposing his external injury for examination. Lifting his wrist so the doctor can check his pulse.

"Hm, nothing serious. You've been given sufficient care for both internal and external wounds it seems."

He makes no mention of mf. zzl finds it difficult to ask.

Would they tell him anything if he did?

A packet of what must be medicine is passed from the doctor to the young woman. "Brew and serve this to him twice a day: at morning and before bed."

"Yes Mu-shishu.”

zzl's stomach bottoms out.

This one will be supervising his recovery now?

He must have given himself away; the female cultivator regards him coolly, so different from their first meeting.

"Dashixiong overexerted himself caring for our esteemed guest. I sincerely hope you can be content with my presence while he recuperates."

The doctor raises his hand, gesturing for her to calm herself. He addresses zzl from beyond the wards, little box case in hand.

"Rest. I understand the confines of the wards would make it a challenge to do otherwise but no strenuous activity either. After four days of medicine, you'll regain any progress you've lost."

At that, he leaves. The female cultivator see him out then vanishes into the side room.

Without a word spoken on what happened. On how the new normal of zzl's life has changed so utterly in a single day.

#svsss #the scum villain's self saving system #zhuzhi lang #ming fan #trans ming fan #preg ming fan #twt thread #wip

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