Bing Die lay sprawled on the straw-filled mattress, drenched in sweat. His breathing came in labored gasps, each exhale trembling as if it carried the weight of some invisible torment. His brows furrowed deeply, as though even in unconsciousness, he was fighting off something far more insidious than a fever—an affliction of the spirit that clawed at his very soul.
The bamboo door creaked open. Shudu stepped in first, his expression calm but focused, a quiet storm behind his eyes. Beside him, Xue Tuzi followed, fingers gently curled around Shudu's hand. Their clasp was tender but steady, not speaking until they reached the bedside.
Shudu knelt down without hesitation, his sharp eyes scanning Bing Die's pallid face. "Cold water. A basin. And a clean rag," he said briskly, already reaching for the edge of the bedding to adjust it. His voice, though even, carried the weight of urgency.
Xue Tuzi gave a silent nod and quickly moved to prepare the items, his movements precise and practiced. There was no panic in him—only concentration.
From the doorway, a soft, worried voice called out, "Shu Ge…" Xie Huo's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. She stepped forward impulsively, only to be held back by a firm hand. Feng Li, her older brother, rested his palm on her shoulder and shook his head once. "Let them handle it," he murmured.
Reluctantly, Xie Huo let herself be guided away. They returned to the main room of the small mountain hut, where Xue Laohu sat reclined on a stool, lazily fanning himself, and Li Zhameng crouched in the corner, silently polishing his weapon until it gleamed like ice.
Xue Laohu glanced up as the siblings re-entered. He gave a brief smile, more to himself than anyone else. It had done his heart good to see Xue Tuzi and Shudu working together again, side by side without the usual edge of conflict. And yet… he frowned. The system hadn't chimed. There had been no congratulatory alert, no notice that the mission had been completed.
Strange.
Across from him, Li Zhameng placed his weapon on his hip and cast a glance at the two demons. Both sat in silence, lost in thought, their expressions unreadable. After a long pause, Xue Laohu spoke lightly, as if to break the tension.
"Don't worry. If anyone can bring that boy back from the brink, it's Shudu and my disciple. A-Tuzi may look cold, but he's got a good heart underneath all that frost."
Meanwhile, in the sickroom, Xue Tuzi had just finished checking Bing Die's pulse. His brow tightened. The youth's spiritual energy was draining away, his meridians clogged and sluggish. Time was running out.
Without a word, Xue Tuzi reached up and pulled several slender needles from his neatly coiled hair. With expert precision, he began embedding them one by one into Bing Die's major acupoints, the fine silver tips quivering slightly as they sunk into the skin.
"These will stabilize his qi flow," Xue Tuzi muttered. "Don't try transferring anything until I say so."
Shudu nodded, hovering close, his hand already glowing with faint demonic qi, restrained and ready. They worked in tandem for what felt like hours—at least the time it would take to boil and drain three pots of tea.
At last, after a tense silence, Bing Die's eyelashes fluttered. A breath hitched in his throat, then his eyes opened, hazy and unfocused.
"…Shu Gege?" he whispered hoarsely, blinking as if afraid the vision before him would vanish.
Shudu leaned in, relief softening his features. Xue Tuzi exhaled deeply, wiping his damp brow with the back of his sleeve. The needles trembled slightly before he pulled them out one by one.
"Don't try to get up yet," Xue Tuzi said gently. "Your meridians are still weak. Just rest."
No sooner had he spoken than the door burst open.
"Bing Didi!" Xie Huo cried, rushing forward to embrace her younger brother, eyes glistening. "You're awake!"
Feng Li followed at a calmer pace, his usual stern demeanor softened. He gave Shudu and Xue Tuzi a respectful bow, hand over his heart. "We owe you both. Truly. Thank you, Shu Ge… Saozi."
The following days passed quietly, with everyone remaining at the mountain hut to allow Bing Die time to recover fully. Shudu and Xue Tuzi took turns tending to him, checking his qi flow, and bringing meals. It was during one such visit that Bing Die, curled under his blanket and barely peeking out, he murmured softly, "Shu Gege has a beautiful wife…"
His gaze followed Xue Tuzi as he moved about the room gathering dishes. A few strands of damp, earthy brown hair clung to his lips, and the small mole just beneath them made his mouth seem even more delicate—unintentionally seductive.
Shudu, lounging nearby with his arms crossed, narrowed his eyes playfully.
"Oh?" he drawled, then leaned over and tapped Bing Die's forehead with a firm finger. "You like Gege's wife?"
Bing Die's eyes widened, and he shrank a little under the blanket. His cheeks flushed bright red, but he gave a tiny nod, too honest—or too sick—to lie.
Shudu gave a soft scoff, amused. He leaned back against the wall with an exaggerated sigh. "Little scoundrel," he muttered. "So? How did you end up like this?"
Bing Die shifted, his face sobering. "We were coming home. Jie Jie and I had just finished gathering fish at the river. It was almost sunset."
"Then… we were ambushed."
Shudu straightened slightly, his eyes sharpening.
"He looked human," Bing Die continued, frowning as he tried to recall. "I couldn't sense any demonic qi coming from him. None at all. But I know he was a demon. His face was mostly hidden—he wore a scarf that covered everything except…"
He swallowed hard.
"His eyes. They were crimson."
Shudu exchanged a glance with Xue Tuzi, who had paused mid-step. A silence fell over the room, cold and sudden.
"Crimson eyes…" Shudu echoed softly, more to himself than anyone else.
He gazed out the window, his eyes scanning the dusky treetops beyond the hut. The forest, once peaceful and humming with familiar life, now pulsed with something darker. The protective barrier that once kept demons at bay had weakened—thinned like paper left too long in the rain. A part of him clenched at the thought of leaving this place behind, but it was no longer safe, not for Bing Die, not for the others.
Behind him, footsteps padded softly against the floorboards. Xue Tuzi reappeared with a wooden tray, steam curling gently from the bowl he carried. The bitter scent of medicinal herbs filled the air.
"It's bitter," Xue Tuzi murmured as he knelt beside the bed, holding the bowl carefully to Bing Die's lips.
But Bing Die didn't flinch. His red eyes lit up with recognition and faint amusement as he accepted the medicine eagerly, swallowing it down in a single gulp. The sharp tang barely seemed to register.
"Insect demons don't mind bitter things," Shudu said, watching them intently.
Bing Die licked his lips slowly, savoring the aftertaste. "The more acidic the better," he mumbled, voice low and content. Then, more to himself than anyone else, he added, "Saozi is sweet and gentle…"
Xue Tuzi blinked, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He raised a sleeve to conceal it, but his eyes danced with allure.
"Sweet and gentle, am I?" he said teasingly. "Who taught you to be so smooth with words? Was it your Shu Gege?"
He turned slightly, casting a sideways glance at Shudu—who promptly looked away, feigning disinterest with a stiff expression and a faint pink creeping up his ears. Bing Die's face went red, the color blooming like a spring peach across his cheeks. He yanked the blanket up over his nose, trying to disappear into it entirely.
Too slow.
Xue Tuzi leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss near the curve of his chin, right where the fabric didn't cover. Bing Die froze.
"There was a bit of medicine," Xue Tuzi said, licking his lips slowly as if to clean away the phantom taste. Then he bent closer, whispering directly into Bing Die's ear, "It's bad to be wasteful."
Bing Die let out a strangled squeak and nodded hastily, burying himself under the covers as if they might swallow him whole.
Shudu exhaled loudly and rolled his eyes. Without a word, he turned and followed Xue Tuzi into the kitchen area, his footsteps echoing behind him. The moment they were alone, he moved in, wrapping his arms possessively around Xue Tuzi's waist. He pressed his cheek against his shoulder, clinging tightly.
"Tuzi…" he grumbled, his voice low and pouty, the kind of tone only Shudu used when his jealousy boiled just under the surface. His brows were furrowed like a child's.
Xue Tuzi tilted his head back slightly, not looking at him but clearly aware of the demon pressed against his back. "He called me sweet and gentle," he said airily, feigning innocence, though a smirk ghosted across his lips. "I was flattered."
Shudu growled under his breath and tightened his hold, arms closing around him like steel bands. Xue Tuzi gasped softly, the strength of the embrace forcing the air from his lungs.
"Can't breathe," he whispered, brows drawing together in discomfort. "Shushu—do you intend to stay?" He managed to murmur as Shudu refused to let go. Shudu hesitated, feeling Xue Tuzi's trembling body.
"And leave you?" Shudu added, the question quiet but sharp.
Finally, Shudu's grip loosened. Xue Tuzi inhaled deeply, relishing the breath that filled his lungs. He turned around in the demon's arms, placing a hand lightly on Shudu's cheek.
"Let's ask Shizun for guidance," he said softly, with a touch of affection. "This place isn't safe anymore." Later that day, they spoke with Xue Laohu, who agreed to take the four demons back to Sect Mount Dingbu.
The steep mountain path seemed endless, each step heavier than the last. Xue Tuzi's legs trembled, his breath coming in ragged gasps as his spiritual energy flickered, drained from relentless nights.
Night after night, it was the same.
The moment the campfire dimmed to embers and the world hushed under the weight of the dark, Shudu would turn to him with those eyes—half-lidded, gleaming with a hunger that was never sated. A slow, coaxing touch would brush Xue Tuzi's wrist, his voice a velvet murmur against his ear: "Let me have you."
And every time, Xue Tuzi would protest.
"Shushu…" His voice would fray at the edges, weak from the day's toll, from the way Shudu's very presence unraveled his resolve.
But Shudu never forced him. No, he was far more dangerous than that.
He would press closer, his breath warm against Xue Tuzi's throat, his words laced with honeyed desperation. "Just a little. I need you." A hand would slide along his waist, possessive yet pleading, and Xue Tuzi would shudder—not from fear, but from the way his own body betrayed him, thrumming in response.
It was the "I need you" that undid him every time.
And so, with a ragged sigh, Xue Tuzi would relent. He'd let Shudu draw him into the circle of his arms, let those lips ghost over his pulse, let the demon have his way. By morning, he'd be hollowed out, trembling with exhaustion—yet somehow, he could never bring himself to regret it.
Shudu, meanwhile, would glow with stolen vitality, his satisfaction a tangible thing. But even then, his touch would linger, thumb brushing the shadows under Xue Tuzi's eyes as if in apology. "Rest now," he'd whisper, though they both knew the cycle would repeat.
Because Xue Tuzi could refuse him nothing.
Xue Tuzi's vision blurred at the edges, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself forward—only for his knees to buckle beneath him.
Before he could hit the ground, Shudu was there, strong arms bracing him, pulling him close against his chest. "Enough," Shudu murmured, his voice firm but laced with concern. "Let me carry you the rest of the way."
Xue Tuzi stiffened, his pride flaring even as his body betrayed him. "I can… walk," he panted, pushing weakly against Shudu's hold. His fingers dug into the fabric of Shudu's arm—whether to steady himself or to shove him away, even he wasn't sure.
Shudu's grip didn't loosen. "You've pushed yourself to the brink," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. Yet Xue Tuzi still resisted, swaying dangerously as he tried to stand on his own.
A sigh escaped Shudu's lips, half exasperation, half fondness. "Stubborn to the last," he muttered, but there was no real annoyance in it—only a quiet admiration for the man who refused to yield, even when his strength was spent.
With that, he tightened his hold, ignoring Xue Tuzi's weak protests, and lifted him effortlessly into his arms.
Bing Die rushed to their side "Shu Gege, please—allow me to carry Saozi. I owe him this much, at least."
Before Shudu could respond, Xue Tuzi twisted in his arms with a tired but mischievous grin. In one swift motion, he pushed off Shudu's chest and hopped backward, landing neatly on Bing Die's back. The younger demon caught him effortlessly, hands looping under Xue Tuzi's thighs to secure him in place.
Xue Tuzi exhaled, finally surrendering to exhaustion. He draped his arms loosely around Bing Die's neck and let his forehead rest between his shoulder blades, eyes fluttering shut. "Mm. Warm," he mumbled, already half-asleep.
Shudu's grip lingered in the air where Xue Tuzi had been just moments before. His jaw tightened—just slightly—before he crossed his arms with a low "Tch."
Bing Die glanced back, hesitant. "Shu Gege…?"
A pause. Then Shudu waved a hand, scowling but not truly protesting. "Fine. But don't you drop him."
Bing Die beamed. "I'd never!"
And with that, their odd little procession continued—Xue Tuzi dozing against Bing Die's back, and Shudu trailing just a step too close behind, eyes sharp.
His eyes fixed on Xue Tuzi's limp form draped over the younger demon's back. The sight coiled something sharp and sour in his chest. Xue Tuzi's arms hung loosely around Bing Die's neck, his breathing shallow—too shallow. The usual mischief in his features had been leached away, leaving only pallid exhaustion.
This is your doing.
The realization struck like a blade between his ribs. Night after night, he'd taken from Xue Tuzi without restraint, drunk on the heady rush of his vitality, the way it seared through him like liquor and lightning. Even now, the memory of it prickled under his skin, a craving that gnawed at his self-control. Just once more, he'd tell himself, fingers tracing the dip of Xue Tuzi's waist. Just a little deeper.
But "just once" had bled into every night, and "a little" had become a ravenous tide. He'd drained Xue Tuzi to the bone, and still, his hunger roared, unsated.
If you continue, you'll kill him.
His fists clenched, nails biting into his palms. The tremor in his hands betrayed him—fury at his own weakness, fear of what he might do. Of what he wanted to do.