Xue Tuzi made his way back to the inn under cover of darkness, the night air biting at his cheeks as he slipped through the door without a sound. The hallway was quiet, lit only by the faint golden flicker of a dying oil lamp. Inside the room, the silence stretched thick, almost reverent. He moved like a shadow, sliding back beneath the covers, though he knew sleep would not come for him tonight.
His mind was a storm, refusing to still. All day, he had played his part with measured care: the obedient disciple, eyes wide with innocence, nodding along with his Shizun's soft-spoken lies. But nightfall had always been his domain, the hour where masks slipped and truth bled through. Tonight, he was ready. The game was over. Tonight, it was his turn to strike.
His gaze flickered toward the tea set resting on the low table. The scent of dried herbs and faint bitterness clung to the air like a warning. He watched with veiled intensity as Xue Laohu poured the contents of a small glass vial into one of the cups, the liquid vanishing with a gentle swirl. A smile, tender and unreadable, curved his Shizun's lips as he lifted the laced tea towards him.
"Come, A-Tuzi," Xue Laohu said with quiet affection, holding the cup out. "You should drink before it cools."
Just as Xue Tuzi reached for it, he stiffened, his hand jerking back as though in fear. "Shizun…" he whispered, voice laced with panic. "I—I think I saw someone. By the window." His eyes flicked toward the curtains, wide and darting, and he clutched at his Shizun's robes as though seeking safety.
Xue Laohu's brows drew together in concern, he placed the cup down with a sigh, rising to check the window. "There's no one there, A-Tuzi," he murmured, pulling back the curtain. The room lay in darkness, shadows stretching long across the floor, his face barely outlined by the faint, cold starlight. He inspected the latch, then locked it with a soft click before drawing the curtain shut once more. "Just the wind," he said, turning back. "Now drink your tea."
But the cups had been switched.
Xue Tuzi's fingers curled around the one that had not been meant for him. He brought it slowly to his nose, inhaling the faint fragrance. Then, without hesitation, he took a long sip, eyes never leaving Xue Laohu. The warmth slid down his throat, and he forced a soft sigh of contentment, leaning slightly into the moment. His Shizun sat beside him again, reaching out to brush back the strands of hair that had fallen over his brow.
Xue Tuzi tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing in subtle amusement. "Shizun's tea will grow cold," he said, voice low, almost coaxing. "You should drink."
There was a beat—a moment where something might have been sensed, where some sliver of suspicion could've taken root. But Xue Laohu only smiled, lifting the cup without a trace of hesitation and drunk it deeply. Xue Tuzi watched him closely, his own lips parting in a slow, knowing smile. The mole at the corner of his mouth shifted as the expression deepened—soft, secretive, sharp.
Moments passed. Xue Laohu blinked, his posture slackening. He yawned, raising a hand to rub at his eyes. "I'm… tired," he mumbled, his voice beginning to slur, weighted with sleep. "Must've… been a long day…"
And then, without warning, he slumped sideways onto the bed, body yielding to the drug with quiet surrender.
Xue Tuzi remained still for a moment, the silence thick with anticipation. Then, slowly, he rose from the bed. Each step was careful, deliberate, silent as snowfall. He crossed to the window, unlatched it once more, and slipped through the narrow gap, the curtains swaying behind him like ghosts.
Under the shroud of a moonless night, Xue Tuzi moved quietly through the dense forest, the world around him veiled in black and inked with shadows. The silence pressed against his skin, broken only by the rustling of leaves underfoot and the distant cries of night creatures. His feet were bare, pale against the earth, and they sank into the underbrush with every step, thorns tearing into soft flesh. He wore only a thin white robe, its hem darkening where it brushed against the damp ground. The robe clung to his skin with the weight of dew, one sleeve slipping low to expose his shoulder and part of his chest, the fabric twisted and untended. His long, unbound hair whipped behind him in the wind, strands catching on low branches.
Ahead, a faint flicker of firelight broke through the darkness, peeking between thick curtains of vines that concealed the mouth of a cave. He slowed his steps, approaching like a ghost. Inside, Shudu stirred. The demon's ears twitched at the whisper of movement outside, at the sharp inhale of breath carried in by the wind.
"Who's there?" he growled, voice rough, eyes narrowing as he turned to the entrance.
Xue Tuzi stepped out from behind the veil of vines. His form was small, almost spectral in the firelight, his disheveled appearance drawing immediate scrutiny. Hair tangled, robe half undone, the sleeve fallen entirely to one side, exposing pale skin and the ridge of his collarbone. He looked half-wild, like a stray dog coming in from the cold.
Shudu's expression darkened.
"What do you want?" he snapped, snatching a nearby stone and hurling it at him without warning.
Xue Tuzi tilted his head just slightly, the rock grazing past his cheek and striking the wall behind him. He didn't flinch. Instead, his round, doe eyes met Shudu's with quiet intensity—wide, unwavering, and full of longing.
Then he knelt.
Without a word, he pressed his forehead to the dirt, hair spilling over his face, voice low and steady. "I came to apologize."
Shudu's brows knit. "Who sent you?" he barked. "Grandmaster Xue?"
Still kneeling, Xue Tuzi said nothing. His forehead remained pressed to the ground, his fingers curled into the soil, knuckles pale. He kowtowed once more.
"I said fuck off," Shudu growled, rising to his feet, his patience thinning. "I don't want your apologies. Go on—fuck off before I lose what little mercy I've got left."
Xue Tuzi lifted his head just barely, just enough to look up at him from the dirt. His lips parted like he meant to speak, but instead he swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. Blood welled between his toes as he stood, wobbling slightly—the thorns embedded in his foot tearing deeper as he moved. Still, he didn't cry out.
Shudu's scowl deepened. Something behind it shifted. Disgust? Pity? Frustration?
"Tch," he clicked his tongue, looking away. "Come here."
Xue Tuzi obeyed without hesitation, limping softly across the rocky floor to the demon's side. He watched as Shudu knelt near a basket of supplies—old cloth, a chipped basin, and several vials of ointment. Likely left behind by Xue Laohu in his last visit. Shudu poured water into the basin, then beckoned with two fingers.
"Sit. Foot out."
Xue Tuzi lowered himself onto the ground, wordless. His breath caught when Shudu took hold of his ankle, lifting the torn foot gently. The water was cool and clean, and Shudu's hands were surprisingly careful as he washed away the dirt, the blood, the bits of vine still tangled in his skin. Xue Tuzi bit his lip, trying not to whimper, but a small sound escaped when the ointment touched an open cut. Shudu paused briefly, his jaw tensing.
Then he saw them—the faint marks along the inside of Xue Tuzi's thighs. Bruises, reddish and deepening to purple. Bites, unmistakable in their shape. His hands stilled. His hand tightened on Xue Tuzi's leg. His touch, once gentle, turned firm—almost punishing—as he spread more of the salve along the injuries. Xue Tuzi yelped, a pained sound escaping his lips.
He gazed back at Shudu with eyes full of longing, dark lashes fluttering as if weighed down by unshed words. Strands of damp hair clung to his flushed cheeks kissing the curve of his mouth, where his lips—plump, parted, and slightly swollen—trembled. He looked like a dream caught between surrender and desire, breath hitching in the stillness.
Shudu's gaze fell on him, and something inside him twisted. That once flawless skin—pale, soft, unblemished—was now stained with bruises and bite marks, by another man's touch. His eyes darkened, brows knitting as a cold fury began to simmer beneath the surface.
Those lips were once mine, he thought bitterly, that skin only ever responded to me… my touch, my voice. Now—defiled. Spoiled. Rotten.
The thought curdled in his chest, hot and sour, his anger rising like bile in his throat. His hands clenched and the firelight danced in his eyes like a reflection of the storm behind them. An overwhelming urge surged within him, one he couldn't control—a primal need to reclaim what was his. It clawed at him like an animal instinct, a desperate drive to mark what had once belonged only to him. No one else should touch him, the thought seethed in his mind. No one but me.
He leaned down his calloused hand found Xue Tuzi's face. His touch was careful—almost reverent—as his thumb brushed over the edge of a bruise.
"Where did he hurt you?" he murmured, voice low and ragged, the question trembling between tenderness and fury.
Xue Tuzi didn't answer. His lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came—only a shallow breath that hitched when the other man's thumb traced the curve of his jaw. Before reason could intervene, he pressed his lips against Xue Tuzi's—gentle at first, then deepening with a hunger he could no longer disguise.
To his surprise, Xue Tuzi responded. The faintest tremor ran through him as he tilted his head upward, meeting the kiss with hesitant warmth, fingers clutching at the man's shoulder as though anchoring himself. When they finally broke apart, their breaths mingled in the narrow space between them. His eyes darkened, sweeping over Xue Tuzi's stained skin that marked where others had touched what was once his.
His hand slid down, tracing every line of Xue Tuzi's skin as if memorizing it anew—each mark, each shiver. His restraint frayed, desire and protectiveness merging into one consuming need. He needed to reclaim him—not out of anger, but to remind them both that he was still here, that Xue Tuzi was still his.
Xue Tuzi tilted his head back just enough, a silent invitation to kiss Shudu, but his lips were met with rejection. "You dare try to kiss me with those filthy lips?" Shudu snarled, his voice low and mocking. Shudu's brow knitted tightly, his expression dark as he pressed his fingers into Xue Tuzi's hips—nails biting down with punishing intent. Xue Tuzi let out a strangled cry, his body jolting as pain lanced through him, trembling violently against the cold, damp earth. Blood welled beneath Shudu's grip, trickling down in slow, dark streams to stain the pale skin of Xue Tuzi's waist. His breath hitched, broken by soft whimpers as tears spilled unchecked from his wide eyes, slipping down the curve of his cheeks to mingle with the dirt beneath him.
For a brief, wavering moment, something in Shudu's hardened gaze faltered. The sight of Xue Tuzi's suffering—beautiful even in agony, submissive despite the pain, eyes still so alluring—stirred something he couldn't name. He leaned in slowly, his breath warm against tear-streaked skin, and began to kiss his way across Xue Tuzi's face—each press of his lips like a brand. Every bruise, every swelling mark of his own making, he claimed with reverence and cruelty alike, as though trying to overwrite the other man's scent with his own.
His lips moved lower, pausing at the bloodied curve of Xue Tuzi's hips. He licked at the wound with a gentleness that betrayed his earlier violence, tongue dragging slow and deliberate along torn flesh. Then his mouth brushed the inner corner of Xue Tuzi's thigh—almost reverent now—before he gathered the trembling form into his arms.
"Tuzi…" Shudu breathed, his voice husky against the shell of Xue Tuzi's ear. "Do you hate me?"
He'd lost himself in the need to reclaim Xue Tuzi, in the heat and clench of possessiveness. Only afterward did the shame arrive, slow and heavy as dusk. For a maddening moment he'd been indistinguishable from the man who had taken what was not his: a trembling, bitter echo of violence and entitlement. He bowed his head, the weight of it making his shoulders slump. He wanted, stupidly and fiercely, to tear Xue Tuzi apart and keep nothing of him but the memory.
Then he hated himself for even thinking it.
Xue Tuzi's fingers were soft against the roughness of his cheek, tracing the line of a tear and brushing it away with a gentleness that felt like thunder and balm at once.
"Do you forgive me?" Shudu asked, voice raw. He lowered his lips and kissed the back of Xue Tuzi's hand, each press deliberate as if trying to mend a frayed thing. Xue Tuzi's breath hitched. Forgiveness didn't sit comfortably in him; something older and louder swelled in his heart—a chorus of pain and rage, the memories of being lied to and used. Images and voices rose, sharp as shards, begging for retribution.
"Don't listen to him," one whisper urged.
"Kill him," another snarled, venom bright and immediate.
"He's ruthless," went a third, like a judgement.
"A savage," came the last, cold and final.
Xue Tuzi closed his eyes against the onslaught. He felt his heart stutter, then drown beneath those thousand pleading cries. He could hear them, feel them clawing at the place where trust should grow. Xue Tuzi gasped, but before he could speak, Shudu claimed his mouth again, lips crashing down with the heat of desperation. Xue Tuzi responded—arms winding around Shudu's neck.
"I want you. Tuzi." Shudu huffed, voice low and commanding, Xue Tuzi said nothing, simply nodding—slow and obedient.
Blood began to seep once more through the bandages, blooming dark and warm against Xue Tuzi's hands as the demon's heart pounded. Without hesitation, he surged forward and crashed his lips onto Xue Tuzi's, the taste of copper and desperation thick in the air between them. The kiss was bruising, filled with something wild and unspoken, until he suddenly broke away, breathless, eyes searching Xue Tuzi's face with a sharp, almost frantic edge.
"Do you…" he gasped, voice trembling with longing.
His fingers curled firmly around Xue Tuzi's jaw, his thumb lingered at the tiny mole just beneath the curve of the beauty's lower lip, as if memorizing it by touch alone.
Xue Tuzi responded with a soft, deliberate lick to Shudu's hand, tongue dragging slowly across the demon's skin with a mixture of submission and teasing. His lips soon followed, trailing warm, breathless kisses along the curve of the demon's neck, each one sending a shiver through the demon's spine. He cupped Shudu's face with both hands, drawing him in for a deep, fervent kiss—hungry, needy, full of false devotion. The screeching cries continued to echo in his head, pleading him to slay the demon.