Chapter Text
The morning Luo Binghe returns from a small mission off the mountain to a nearby town, he's woozy and a bit pale, propped up by one of his shixiong from Qiong Ding who had participated as well. With only the explanation that he'd disappeared at some point near the end of the hunt and then returned like this, Shen Qingqiu is left with a protagonist who seems rather ill that faints into deadweight in his arms.
Shen Qingqiu… is offended! Who let his little lamb wander off and get injured? Shouldn’t they have gone in pairs, a buddy system or something?! And for that matter, hadn’t the creature in question only been a rather minor demon that shouldn’t have caused any issues, least of all to the golden bodied protagonist?
He easily hefts Binghe up into his arms and carries him to the side room, bringing him in and gently laying him out on the bed.
“Binghe?” he calls, resting a hand on the boy’s cheek, startled at how warm the skin is. It’s almost feverish, and his worry doubles.
Luo Binghe’s eyes flutter open weakly, eyes unfocused for a few seconds until he seems to come back to himself. Pretty eyes turn to look up at him and Binghe’s lips twitch into a tired smile. “Shizun… Apologies. This disciple is very tired… Please allow me to rest and then I’ll be able to make your breakfast.”
He raps a knuckle against Binghe’s forehead, getting another small smile in response. “Just rest, silly child. Let this master know if your fever worsens, and I’ll fetch Mu-shidi.”
“Yes, Shizun,” Luo Binghe murmurs, already drifting into sleep.
He can’t help but tuck a lock of hair behind Binghe’s ear, fondness overwhelming him. So tired he couldn’t even dress down for bed, hm? Well, Shen Qingqiu can at least help him out of his boots and outer robes so he can rest in comfort. Carefully, moving Binghe’s sleeping body like a doll, he does so, stripping him down until his inner clothes before tucking him under the sheets and quietly leaving him to rest.
Twice during the day he checks in on his disciple, still fast asleep in his bed. He chews on his lip anxiously as he putters around getting ready for bed himself, trying to figure out what possibly Luo Binghe could have stumbled into to cause such a strange illness. The halo should keep him safe, right…?
He takes another last look in at Luo Binghe’s pale face and decides if Binghe does not awaken by the next morning, he’s going to get Mu Qingfang over here.
In the dead of night, his peaceful slumber is disturbed by pained moaning coming from the side room.
Within a moment he's up like a shot, not bothering to dress himself beyond his thin sleeping robe, rushing into Binghe's room to see him with his sheets pushed off as he writhes in pain on the bed. Like this, with some light cast by candles filtering through the doorway behind him and Binghe's inner shirt ridden up from his pained movement, Shen Qingqiu sees it.
An almost glowing pink mark low on Binghe’s abdomen, painted in swooping swirls to create a crude mimicry of a womb.
Ah, fuck.
He rushes over and grabs Binghe’s qiankun pouch, opening it and rustling through it to prove his reluctant theory. Eventually he finds it, pulling out a small, delicate hair ornament, encrusted with jewels and almost unnaturally beautiful. Well, of course it’s unnatural. It had been made by a demon with a curse that would befall the first person to touch it.
Naturally, it had been a wife plot in the novel that landed on the head of a young mistress from a rich family that the demon wished to seduce. When she’d taken the ornament, she’d been condemned to a curse that required her to be bedded every day for a month, during which time the demon planned to slowly break her mind and take her as his wife. Of course, Luo Binghe arrived, killed the demon and took its place, heroically saving the maiden by making papapa with her every day!
Except now, it’s Luo Binghe himself who…
He looks over at his still writhing disciple, the pinched look on his face and the pathetic whimpers dropping from his lips, and knows he’ll have to do something. The curse will only become more and more painful to endure until Luo Binghe is...
Is…
Shen Qingqiu wants to spit blood. What kind of bug is this?! System! How can he dare to bed the protagonist! Even if it’s to save his life!! How could Luo Binghe have fallen prey to such a lewd wife plot?! Of all things, this is going to surely be the thing that truly digs his grave six feet deep, and it isn't even his fault.
Yet, as much as he doesn’t want to, he can’t bear to let Binghe suffer any more than he already is. Perhaps he needn’t actually go that far with him? Though the novel had made them go all the way and impart the 'cure' inside of her womb, maybe he could just feed Luo Binghe a bit of Shen Qingqiu’s… er…
He decides to stop thinking and just do it.
Grimacing, he shuts his eyes and parts his robe to stroke himself. How perverted can he be, standing over his unconscious disciple like this, touching himself like this! It's filthy and disgraceful and all sorts of other things, but Shen Qingqiu tries to hold on to the fact he's only doing this for Binghe. For his health and wellbeing. That's all.
He endeavours not to think about anything, oddly spurred on by the little whimpering noises Binghe keeps making, his stomach swooping and fluttering at them. Surely it’s the anxiety of having his most treasured disciple being in pain. Yes, yes, that’s it. It's just nerves from his worry. The anxiety helps his performance along, his cock fattening up easily under his hand as he strokes himself slow and dry.
It's not often that he touches himself, usually too focused on not ending up somehow dead in this world that seems so determined on ruining him to relax enough for it, and he realizes how pent up he is as he starts masturbating beside Binghe's bed. Binghe mewls in his sleep, turning his head and rocking his hips upwards against nothing, and Shen Qingqiu feels himself throb in his hand, cockhead dripping.
It doesn't take long before his breathing goes ragged and his stomach warms. Every little noise Binghe makes as he twists in bed, moaning and crying from pain, urges that warmth higher and higher until it's boiling just under his skin.
He opens his eyes and looks at his little lamb in bed. Binghe's inner shirt is almost completely pulled open from his twisting, his hair splayed out and face sweaty, lips bitten red and looking utterly disheveled. In response to his dream, Binghe's lids flutter and a pathetic whine of, " Shizun -" leaves his mouth.
With a sharp noise he barely manages to swallow, Shen Qingqiu comes into his hand, long pulses of come pooling in his palm, hot and thick.
He catches his breath in sharp, ragged pants, and carefully scoops up a small bit of his semen on a finger before carefully dabbing it inside of Binghe's red lips, smearing it on his tongue. Then he pulls his robe back together and burns the rest of the evidence away, feeling very embarrassed about what he'd just had to do.
A few moments later, just long enough for him to start wondering if he really is going to have to bed his disciple, Binghe stirs and his eyes open. He struggles to sit upright, looking down at himself and the glowing sigil on his stomach and then up at Shen Qingqiu. "Shizun, what is this?"
He holds up the small hair ornament. "Do you recognize this?"
Binghe nods, suddenly looking very shy. "It was in the home of that demon. It was very pretty and I thought… This stupid disciple thought Shizun… might like it."
A low, pulsing headache starts at the base of his skull. Binghe… Luo Binghe, you are truly a sweet and considerate child, but shouldn't the protagonist know better than to touch strange things made by demons?!
"Is that thing what caused this?" Binghe asks.
He hesitates but describes the curse and what he knows of it, using flowery terms that suggest at the reality rather than saying it outright because he may simply die of humiliation if he has to actually say, Yes, you need to be given semen in order to live, right to the protagonist’s face. Binghe seems to understand, blushing as Shen Qingqiu makes vague motions to the tattoo.
"Oh," Binghe says faintly, running a palm back and forth over his lower stomach across the womb-shaped sigil. His other hand traces a fingertip across his lips, and Shen Qingqiu wonders if he's figured out the bitter, salty taste in his mouth. Cheeks painted pink, he looks up at Shen Qingqiu through his lashes, demure and sweet as any maiden. "Then, Shizun will be… assisting this disciple until the mark fades?"
That's.
Well, that's... Shen Qingqiu swallows, mouth feeling a bit dry.
He hadn't really thought about who would be providing the needed cure every day but the thought of anyone but him doing it makes his hackles rise instinctively. Who knows if someone else might take advantage of Binghe and hurt him? And then that would end up meaning terrible torture for them in the future after Binghe's blackening. Really, doing it himself is just saving two people at once!
So he nods, imbuing as much of his distant but loving teacher persona as he can when he says, "Of course. This master’s first priority is Binghe's safety."
A harsh shiver rolls through Binghe's body, from head to toe, the womb tattoo glowing brightly.
Shen Qingqiu worries at the possibility of the curse affecting him, but he's simply not mentally prepared to deal with this right now, so he ignores it and instead pets Binghe's hair. "For now, just rest. We'll discuss your… treatment… tomorrow."
Leaning up to press against his palm, Binghe's voice sounds thick as he dutifully replies, "Yes, Shizun."