#I'm so violently angry the only thing keeping me from SH is the fact that the stupid box cutter I bought isn't sharp enough

[sensitivegoblin]

Unsafe vent

[christylove94]

Everlasting - Part Five - II

Pairing: Dongfang Qingcang/Xiao Lanhua

Chapter Tags: Explicit themes, angst, hurt/comfort, AU elements, extremely wordy sorry

Dragging the jagged edge of the narrow nail she recovered from their escape boat across her wrist is done with no hesitation. The sight of blood welling up and dribbling over the florid edges of the slit is like holding the key to survival in the cup of her clammy hands.

She presses her wrist to Da Mutou's ashen mouth, heart twinging with each frantic beat. She forces the maelstrom of panic, the unending screams of please don't be dead please don't leave me please I love you please please please waging war on her mind quiet enough to count to thirty. 

No puffs of breath tickle her shaking hand.

She wrenches her wrist away, vision swimming so much the blood painting his lips and trickling down the corner become a ghastly manifestation of life separating from his body. 

A choked sob rattles her ribs as she raises a shaking hand to his mouth. Catching her blood with her thumb, she sweeps it up to his lips, then presses as much of it in as she can, needing this to work more than life itself.

Please please please, don't take him from me please—

A full bodied sob hunches her over. Her body becomes wracked by them, by anguish so acute she's certain she'll go mad. Only her hand falling to his thigh for support gives her the strength to keep the threads of her being precariously held together. 

“You claim to be… the most supreme and powerful in all the three realms. Prove it to me,” she sniffles, eyes searching his placid face for any minuscule movement. The fact that he looks as if he could simply be sleeping has a fresh wave of tears scalding down her tacky cheeks. 

“Dongfang Qingcang, as long as you wake up, no matter how much you hurt me and lie to me, I promise I won't be angry.” Her breaths sound like she's fighting to stay above water as she reaches to cup his cheek, the other curling around his limp hand. “I beg of you. Don't l-leave me here alone!”

Her fighting fades as her heart splinters open and begins to bleed. The force of her weeping drags her head down to his stomach where she pillows her cheek. All around her the world grows dim. Bleak.

And maybe it's knowing that she will stay here like this, right hand joined to his left as she simply fades away that calms her violent cries. Leaves her iced in layers of numbness as tear after tear carves trenches down her face. 

“I sh-ould never ha-have listened to Fairy Danyin and L-lord Ronghoa. You s-said you were hap-py. You said it was–it was like you were really ma-married.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “I wasted s-so much time.” 

Her head bobs with what feels like a sudden flinch within his muscles. 

She jumps up, eyes peeled wide, not daring to breathe. 

His head lolls a smidgen against the petrified tree trunk. His facial features twitch. Then his ribs expand fully into a motion that rolls downward into the curl of his fingers around hers. His eyelids flutter, appearing to take great effort to rise up halfway. 

Such little things taken for granted, she finds are the most beautiful things she's ever witnessed. 

She shoots forward, arms encircling his waist, clinging to her lifeline with an ironclad grip. Relief pours from her in a deluge.

Thank you thank youthankyouthankyou—

“You're–you're awake! You're finally awake!” she blubbers into his neck, savoring the feel of his hands folding over her waist, his chest expanding underneath her, his pulse tapping her cheek. She only pulls back because seeing him breathing with her own eyes is a needy necessity, unwilling to be ignored. “I was so scared.”

The roughened texture of his palms cradle her face, thumb away her helpless tears. Jitters leap down her spine as she melts into the tender look in his sleepy gaze. She almost lost this. 

Never again, she vows. 

“I'm fine. Don't cry,” he assures, seeming to watch her with the same intensity as she does him. 

She latches onto the calmness he radiates, at last noticing the violent barbs of fear thrashing within her flesh begin to wane. 

She feels a watery smile break through the surface while she aids in rubbing away her remaining tears. “I'm not crying. I'm just being happy.” Her eyes alight on his mouth where blood stains remain. The need to provide care rises within her with the force of a raging storm. “You must be thirsty. Let me get you some water—”

She barely has a foot under her when her arm is snatched up between them. 

“What is this?”

She follows his tense gaze to the raw line stretched across her wrist with a confused blink. “Oh, it's—” she sniffs, her mind feeling sluggish as it reaches for knowledge beyond the past harrowing moments. “I guess you wouldn't know, but my blood has the ability to revive the dead. It's strange… Why does it have this miraculous effect?”

“You're thinking about this now?” Disbelief tinges the shortness of his weakened tone as he keeps her arm captive. “You can't use your blood for the sake of others. I'm no exception. Do you hear me?”

His stern look is ruined as he doubles over with hacking coughs.

Her hand goes to his chest, rubbing what she hopes to be soothing circles. The weariness that forms shadows beneath his eyes when he ultimately slumps backward sends her heart surging up to lodge into her throat. 

“Why get mad about this when you're so hurt?” she comments with bewilderment. His heartbeat greets her at a steady pace, tamping down her anxiety. “I was more than willing to do it. It doesn't even hurt. I swear,” she promises with a reassuring smile.

She feels many many things right now enveloped as she is within the wondering look that ripples out from the depths of his eyes across his features. The throbbing of a self-inflicted wound is not one of them. 

“Why did you save me?” he lays the question in the narrow space between them, a breath above a whisper. “You wanted to go home so badly. Why didn't you?”

“It's…” Her voice sticks in the back of her throat as her thoughts tangle up. 

I love you, is the best answer, the one battering against her teeth. 

“I can't go back anyway.” Is what slips out from habit. 

Her heart hangs heavy with the weight of her cowardice, so much so, she struggles to hold his unwavering gaze.

“You really can't go back now after choosing to save me in front of them. Why didn't you take Changheng's hand and leave me behind?” he persists with a rawness to his tone that speaks of his ribs being pried open, allowing his beating heart to be loved or abused. Whichever she chooses. 

The words are right there, solid. Tangible in the ceaseless pull urging her towards him. 

Skittishness sends her stumbling to her feet. The spike in her heartbeat sapping the strength of her courage. She just needs a moment away to figure out how to tell him. Just a moment, that’s all. 

“You-you must be hungry. I'll go get you—”

He tugs on her arm as she’s turning away. Amber, cerulean, emerald, and crimson smear together as she spins. Her vision refocuses with Da Mutou's face hovering over hers and her back stretched across his lap. His soulful eyes, his soft mouth, his proffered heart. He's warm, whole, alive. So close. Too close.

Not close enough. 

She jumps up, but his hand slips up her arm and captures her own, keeping her in place. No more running and hiding, the touch seems to say.��

She feels all her blood rush to her head as her breathing swells throughout her body. She slides her tongue across her trembling mouth. “Da Mutou—”

“Who does your Fate Mark belong to?” 

She stops short, thrown. But only for an instant. His sudden question grants her the path she has been searching for to share the tender veins and precious lifeblood of the emotions only he has ever induced in her being. 

“Lord Changheng.”

There's no surprise anywhere in her search across his tranquil features. Did he guess it moments ago, or in the boat when she told Lord Changheng himself how things would've been different if she had never met Dongfang Qingcang? 

None of that matters though. Not when the sight of his widening pupils seems to simultaneously swallow her up and cause her belly to clench and warm. Not when the very air grows tingly and electric, stretched utterly taut. 

Squirming, she tells him everything she has hidden in an ineloquent babble, “The Hashi City leader revealed the Mark in disguise, and I-I was so overwhelmed, I went with him. But I was–I was never happy. I wanted to hide it, Da Mutou. I wanted it to all go away, because…” 

She swallows, words thickening as they pass through her opened heart. “Because you make me happy, and I… You—”

He dips down and makes the world go still. 

A long, sweet, timeless moment her lips are joined to his until they're forced to separate with a moist part. She feels the heavy sweep of his gaze along the curving lines that make up her face, searching like he's expecting her to protest or push him away with some flimsy excuse. She counts the dreaded seconds apart, a newly awakened receptor awaiting long overdue stimulation. 

And then he leans back down to steal her breath away. 

This is Heaven. What Heaven is meant to be.

There are no strained motions, no exaggerated dislike. His mouth flows into hers like it was born for this purpose.

Plush, yet firm. A cozy heat, sticky with copper tasting blood. She presses closer to meet him, out of synchrony, and their lips close together at an awkward angle that makes her breath catch. 

Her hand scrambles for contact and he finds her. Fingers climb up her palm like the flutter of butterfly wings, brushing tingles of sensation into delicate nerve endings that ripple down her arm and ribbons outward from end to end. 

Quivering in delight, her hand curls around his own and she slides her mouth against his, begging for more. 

Realigning, he seals their mouths tight, drawing her into him, breaking away to peck her mouth from end to end, back and forth until her face grows hot and her starved whimper drives her mouth up to catch his bottom lip.

His hand flexes around hers, rubbing and caressing as she tentatively trades his bottom lip for his top, feeling her lower belly tighten when his closes around her lower in turn.

Panting, they shift again, mouths open as they slot together, and she feels something wet and warm flick into the seam of her. An unhidden moan rolls through her in a ripple, her hand clenching around his.

He presses harder against her, tongue delving into her with a hungry groan that teases the pulse of her mouth and spills down her throat like molten delight. She sees the stars he paints across her tongue behind her fluttering eyelids, learns the succulent taste of him when he strokes her languidly, feels their lips grow slick when she tries to meet him in the middle.

It's wet and messy in a way that sets her blood ablaze. She wants out of her stifling, restraining wedding dress, wants to press close without barriers in the way, wants things she never imagined before. 

Her lips on his neck, his chest, his abdominals. Wants to feel his tongue sliding down her skin, his hands squeezing around her wrists, her throat, her thighs. Wants to see his eyes blazing above her as she whimpers and cries.

Wants, wants, wants. 

The need is so sharp like a hook tugging from her navel to the emptiness inside that she lets out a piteous cry.

His mouth skims across her jaw, leaving a glaze of salvia behind that erupts in goosebumps as it cools. “What do you need?” he asks against her ear, voice scratchy like a coarse graze across the piqued points of her body. “Xiǎo Huāyāo, tell me.”

Her hips buck at the wet throb that aches and aches. “Touch me! Touch me, please!” she whimpers, features scrunched up, eyes pleading, as she grips his hand as if she's holding on for dear life. 

He breaks from of her hold only to haul her up and astride his thighs as if he hasn't just come back from the brink of death.

Her hands land on his shoulders as she shifts—

Her eyes roll shut as her jaw unhinges around a rickety sound. She feels something hot and stiff trapped between her legs under her skirts. If the feeling of his fingers squeezing down to her hip bones and the open mouthed groan is anything to go by, she knows what that is. 

“That's…” She swallows, feeling sweat bead across her skin.

She knows the chaste terms with ease. His manhood, his member, his length. But the vulgar one she never let herself imagine after glancing over those romance novels, feels herself dampening further just thinking of it, is his turgid cock. 

It's the part of him her body now craves, the part of him that will join them in the most intimate of ways. 

“That is what you do to me,” he answers for her in a steamy growl, “What you have done to me for a long time. What I have put out of my mind as unimportant, and dutifully ignored. But no more.”

“No more,” she agrees in a drugged hum, falling into his mouth when he takes her by the back of her head and pulls. 

She nibbles and sucks on his lips as he shucks her outer robe to the ground, at once addicted to the slippery feeling of licking her way into his mouth to explore the treasure trove hidden within. She does for a time, cupping his cheeks while he strokes dizzying heat up and down her thighs, forcing her skirts up further and further. She discovers he makes the prettiest sounds every time their moist lips break apart for air. Breathy and heated, like he's on an assent to nirvana. 

The scorch of his hands find skin, curling into her thighs where no one has ever touched her before. Her nerves seem to jolt, struck blind by lightning. His mouth lands on the hollow of her throat when her head falls back with a belly deep moan. She gives in, doesn't fight the gnawing need to brace her knees within the sand and roll her center into his lap. 

Her body quakes into the quiver of his own, her shaky cry melding with his sharp curse. The stars above spin in her dazed vision as the meat of her thighs throbs in his urgent grip. 

How is it possible? How could something so simple affect so much?

She becomes an all consuming black hole. Every thought, every breath, every beat, every motion is drawn inward and fed to her rabid, pulsing center gliding across the clothed length of him. 

With each rocking motion her body begs for more. Back and forth. More. More. More. Unending as she grows hotter and hotter. Swollen and slick. The pleasure so shrill it borders on pain.

“Da Mutou,” she gasps, mindless, unseeing, clinging. To her existence. To her everything. “Da Mutou!”

His mouth brands open mouthed kisses up her neck, his head falling against hers when he draws her flushed earlobe between his lips. His hands thumbing the tingly, damp skin of the tops of her thighs, slides up to clutch her hips tight.

“Xiǎo Huāyāo.” 

She needs to move, but he keeps her still. Her fingers fist and tug at the back of his robes and she lets out a pleading whine.

“Someone's approaching.”

No! She shakes her head, feeling the loose splay of her magic already out of her control close around him the way a clam does its pearl.

She feels what could be stardust skimming across her cheek in five directions before she’s cradled fully with infinite tenderness, her gaze floating up to find him peering at her with a blend of wonder, adoration, and empathy. 

“It will be okay.” His soothing tone and steadfast gaze coaxes the strength of her magic enveloping him to ease.

She collapses against him, burying her face into his neck, her thighs squeezing his hips as the fire roaring within her center shifts from pleasurable to punishing. She lets out a mournful sigh. She has wanted this for so long. Denied herself this ineffable connection over reasons that feel absurd now. 

Love is love. I know my one true love and know a taste of what it might be like to truly lose him. I won't be a fool any longer. Even if I have to endure the wrath of Heaven, the fires of Hell, and the scorn of others, I will never give up Dongfang Qingcang, she decides with such vehemence, she feels unalterable traces melding into and reshaping her soul. I will never leave his side. 

When she musters up the will to release the loop of her arms from around his shoulders, she's relieved to notice no embarrassment floods her despite the unrestrained lust that had settled itself underneath her skin and made itself at home. They have been through many things with one another, including inhabiting the other's body. What reason would she have to feel embarrassed about learning what her body desires when it's with the one she loves? 

And then she pulls herself and her voluminous skirts off of him, and spots the absolute mess of sticky slick she has made of his lap.

Mortified doesn't begin to cover the emotion that engulfs her in its gaping black pit. 

The sound she emits could be equated to that of a dying animal.

Her hands cover her mouth and the nonsensical spillage of embarrassment and apologies fight for supremacy. Fluster and horror burn so strong within the column of her throat they nearly choke her. So it takes a moment for her to realize Da Mutou has said nothing at all.

One eye then two open and she discovers his head is tilted back, eyes shut as if he is in… pain? 

There is a barely there flush to his cheeks the darkness has done well to hide, his lips are a plump, smeared red from the lip stain on her mouth, and she squints, spotting a smattering of circular red bruises climbing up his neck. 

Her concern overcomes all else as she edges closer. He does not look any worse for wear. So what is…?

His chin meets his chest and there's no hesitation when his fingers move to dip into—

Her hand catches his wrist as steam pours from her ears. “What are you doing?!” she squeaks, sweeping a hand over his lap in a will of magic that dissolves the mess. 

His gaze drifts to hers, unperturbed and half mast, reminding her so much of the lazy confidence he displayed in those early days that she can't decide whether it riles her up or makes her want to jump back into his lap. 

“Xiǎo Huāyāo…” the deliciously, throaty vibrations coat every word, “You don't think I won't put my hand up your skirts one day soon to feel how much you need me?”

A shock of heat winds through her breasts and drips down to the ravenous clench of her core. The fantasy of his eyes blazing above her while she's pinned down, begging  and crying spreads over her mind. She looks at him, panting. Ready to pick back up where they left off, uncaring of the approaching raft. 

His pupils swell to new moons. He curses, squeezing his eyes shut, trembling as he leans away. 

He curses again, and she finds she quite likes the sound, the vulgarity, the guttural power as his mouth and tongue wraps around each filthy syllable. 

She leans forward to taste it with her own mouth, when he braces a hand upon the petrified tree in an effort to push himself to his feet. 

They both freeze.

The grayish texture of the tree is now a rich brown with small sprigs blossoming from the bark. And the sand… In a wide pool surrounding them, all she can see is a dense sea of delicate blooms. Morning glories. 

And orchids. 

Her mouth rounds, mind mystified. She turns to Da Mutou, wanting his theories on what could have possibly have happened to cause this. But something in his expression makes her pause. 

The upward slant of his brows above his wide gaze paints the distinct picture of worry. And then it's gone with a blink as he pushes himself up to wavering feet.

“Da Mutou!” She's at his side in the next breath, ducking under his arm and curling her own around his waist so she can be his support. “You shouldn't force yourself,” she chides, frowning.

“I'm fine,” he claims, though she can feel a fine tremor in his frame that has nothing to do with their previous activities. “He's almost here.” He sidesteps the matter of his health in a smooth redirecting of attention.

He has told her every time when he was very much not been fine, so she decides to believe him for now. 

She turns towards the Memory Loss River and doesn't need to squint through the darkness to make out white robes.

Lord Changheng.

Irritation bites down into her jugular and releases its sharp bits and pieces into her veins. 

She is grateful he allowed their escape, but she cannot fathom why he chose to follow them. 

The raft comes to a stop at the shore and Lord Changheng steps off, approaching. 

Da Mutou's arm hooks around her shoulder, unyielding. 

There had once been a time when she would fret over such a display. My power may be weak and my looks are not worth mentioning, but there is still a list. I have my reputation to consider, Da Qiang! she remembers telling him so long ago. 

Now there should be no confusion on where she stands.

“Lord Changheng…” The chill of his presence begins to sleep through the heat she and Da Mutou just created, causing her to search the skies for any disturbances. “Are the fairies still coming?”

Da Mutou is hardly recovered. Never has she seen him so weakened. A prickly pressure starts to bubble up in her chest, a rapid boil lit by instincts. 

“No.”

She tilts her head up at the stiff tone, only catching a glimpse of Da Mutou's sharp look from her angle before focusing with him on Lord Changheng.

“I think Changheng followed us here on a personal matter. So,” his head tilts just the slightest as a deadly smirk whets the edge of his words into daggers, “why has the God of War intruded on Cangyan Sea?”

The facade of zen is cracked along the downward arc of Lord Changheng's mouth and the tetchy look aimed at where she and Da Mutou are intertwined. 

Her magic levels off to an anxious crackle below the surface. Without thought, her hand bunches into the soft silk atop Da Mutou’s abdomen, locking herself to him further.

“Little Orchid,” Lord Changheng brings his gaze up to her. 

It’s all too familiar. The exuberance contained in the crinkle of his eyes and entreating smile. Like standing in the middle of the dirt road, irrevocably tied to Da Mutou, only to have Jieli hand her over on a silver platter to Xiao Run for having ‘passed the test’. 

She can’t help but feel that it’s ironic that not long after giving voice to her long kept secret, the truth manifests itself. 

“Tensions were high before with no space to truly speak to one another, but I spoke to Fairy Danyin after completing my mortal tribulation. She has seen my Fate Mark… and she attests that your Mark is an exact match.”

She gives a slow shake of her head, her breathing hiking up. 

“The Tianji Mirror foresaw our wedding. This was why I endured the tribulation.”

Da Mutou tenses. She finds her voice. “Lord—”

“I meant every word of our vows.” He steps closer, pressing on. “We can go back to Lucheng and get to know one another properly before remarrying as ourselves.” 

“Lord Changheng!” A sudden rupture she couldn't tamp down halts him in place. 

She feels her panic now leaking from too many places, and rushes to school her features into a replica of pure confusion. “I'm sorry, but you are mistaken. I-I—”

“Xiǎo Huāyāo has no Fate Mark. She is a blank soul, free to make her own choices.”

Held any closer, she'll meld into Da Mutou's being. 

Lord Changheng's eyes track the tension she feels in Da Mutou's embrace, his expression darkening with pique. “And how would you know this?”

“That is between Xiǎo Huāyāo and myself.”

She doesn't even have to look up to know Da Mutou's dark eyes exude self satisfaction and challenge just from his smug undertones. Oh, how he loves to needle Lord Changheng. Which is most definitely her fault. 

A spike in her senses sharpens her focus to the swift flow of Lord Changheng's hands. 

Her feet carve trails in the sand from being pushed behind Da Mutou. A second later, she detects no negative intent from the aura of magic and reaches forward to catch Da Mutou's wrist before he can waste his energy on a pointless fight. She can feel his magic struggling underneath the surface, though it settles in agreement with her judgment. 

Lord Changheng's palms face them, side by side, then pull apart, conjuring a stomach twisting mirror. 

The Kuitian Mirror plays without prompt.

Through the chiffon, sheer robe she'd thrown on top of her sleep gown, her Fate Mark is clear as day through the split in the material. Fairy Danyin's cutting remarks sound almost distant and muffled within her mind. It's been so long since she has seen the Mark, she had forgotten what it had started to resemble in her eyes.

It looks like the orchid is trapped within a gilded cage.

The memory shifts to one she hasn't seen, at least from this angle, though she just lived it hours prior. The weddings in Lucheng.

Once more the image shifts, and she sees herself in a way she's never been before. All her youthful joy is absent. The woman in the mirror is solemn. Muted. Though she shares a common trait with the woman from the previous memory.

Neither bride exhibits the elation of a woman that's happy and in love.

Down the aisle she walks, and true to his word, Lord Changheng is next to her.

Her stomach flops and twists in on itself, a nauseating knot so heavy it plummets through her toes. Her chilled fingers slip downward, searching, seeking, needing. The stony fist they encounter unravels and her palm stretches out across coarse warmth, their fingers tangling together.

Despite the rage and fury taking up the density of his bones, the fierce squeeze of his finger pads into her hand reflects her desperation. Mirrors her fear. 

He is near powerless. How could he stop Lord Changheng when the God of War was set to end his life before their escape across the Memory Loss River? 

Lord Changheng steps through the Kuitian Mirror which dissolves into mist, the weight of his gaze an uncomfortable pressure against the side of her face she gives him. 

As the acting Arbiter of Destiny, she more than anyone is expected to fall in line with what was just shown without a single thought of protest.

But she remains resistant to his expectant look, her mind languished in torment. Her hand twined with the one she never wants to let go. 

How does she make him leave? How does she make him understand that the infallible mirror is wrong this time? 

“Little Orchid, many spend thousands of years searching for their soulmate and the connection you and I share—”

“Connection?” Da Mutou sneers, voice shaking with barely controlled ire. 

“Yes. Connection,” Lord Changheng bites back, his straight-backed posture a paragon of perceived integrity. “Throughout my mortal life, I had been dreaming of my destined one, and when I saw Little Orchid, I knew her instantly. No matter the life, I'll always love her—”

“Why are you doing this?” She cuts in, stepping so that she is partially in front of Da Mutou's coiled stance, at last meeting the startled look in Lord Changheng's eyes. “First you encourage me to take the immortal exam, and praise me for succeeding. Then you look down on me like everyone else in Shuiyuntian, and liken me to an elf below even a lowly servant.”

She barrels past the aghast and chagrin that parts his lips and lines the shape of his eyes as smoothly as he has inserted himself between her and Da Mutou time and time again, “So why do you insist—” 

“I was a coward!” He falls to one knee in supplication, hair slipping over his hunched shoulders in his haste. “I thought I was protecting you from my brother by staying away, because I am betrothed to the lost goddess of Xishan and these feelings are forbidden! But what I should have done was stood up for you and fought to be by your side,” he admits, shooting a quick look past her. 

Bitterness sinks like sediment in the depths of his eyes before his wholeheartedness renews in the sweep of his smile. “That was a mistake I hope to make up for every day for the rest of our lives. Shuiyuntian is your home, Little Orchid. I learned a lot from our time in Lucheng, and I know what I want. I promise things will be better. You won't be alone anymore. You'll be taken care of. You'll be…” 

He swallows, moving to his feet while lifting a hand palm up in offering. “I'll love you dearly. We share a Fate Mark, Orchid. Shouldn't we follow Heaven's will and not allow our love to be stolen by others?” 

The echo of his words from when he gifted her the revived Firefly Spirit Stone hang in the air, failing to resonate. 

Lord Ronghoa basically told her as much. This is merely a confirmation. 

Lord Changheng is sloppily retracing the steps Da Mutou paved without hesitation and an emotional range that was handicapped at the time. Fighting for me, defending me, offering to protect and care for me. But his sense of duty is the only thing that spurred him to act back when Da Mutou took me to Cangyan Sea. Not his love for me.

Instead of a sense of loss, her solidified resolve intensifies.

“Little Orchid is a kind soul, and for reasons I don't know of, she… feels obligated to help you. But she and I have a future together. We will be married,” he declares with calm confidence, making it so about three chi separate them. “So it's inappropriate for you to be alone with her. You are not allowed to place your hands upon her in passion.”

Da Mutou's free hand gathers her close, chest to chest, hand sliding up to cup the back of her skull. “My hands, you say? How about—”

Her index finger presses to his incoming lips, and his eyes become cute and endearing in his startle. She can't stop her sweet smile in response. 

“I learned a lot in Lucheng as well that I will not take for granted. I make my own choices, Lord Changheng. And being your destined is not one of them.” She says evenly through the flutter of wings in her belly Da Mutou’s adoring look causes. 

Turning to Lord Changheng, she takes a moment to pick her words carefully, hoping she'll find understanding in his inscrutable gaze. “My immortal root was damaged, but you convinced my Master to keep me. You saved my life. But… I was ignorant and knew nothing of the world. Now, my heart has known happiness worth living a thousand years just to experience once, and the pain of being crushed and buried within the soil, only for affection to survive and blossom anew. So I know that all I feel for you is gratitude and appreciation. Nothing more.” 

She lifts her chin and squares her shoulders. “I choose Dongfang Qingcang. It's too late to turn back.”

Lord Changheng's eyebrows rest low. His features harden as he nods, seemingly to himself.

There's a faint tug from within her chest, then a trickle down the length of her arm connected to Da Mutou. 

“You remember the kiss in Lucheng?” she presses, edging towards desperation that he see reason. “Did that really look familial, or like I was where I wanted to be?”

She sees hesitation flit through his gaze before he places one foot forward. “Little Orchid… I swore to you, I would—”

She hops back as the thud as his body hitting the ground reverberates through the soles of her feet.

Eyes rolled shut, frame going boneless, he just—!?

Her jaw feels unhinged as she gapes, mind reeling.

Da Mutou sinks down in a heavy motion, lowering her with him. The grimace twisting his features smoothes out. Becomes impassive. One hand makes a slow wave over Lord Changheng's head, the trickling down her arm resumes. Awareness snaps into place like the sound of him inducing the spell that sent the God of War crashing to the ground.

He's utilizing her magic. 

Her free hand hovers about, directionless, not knowing what to start with in this bizarre situation. She doesn't break their connection. “Da-Da Mutou! What—?!”

“He's asleep. I'm performing a memory charm,” is his succinct response, focus attuned to things only he can see. 

Her heart stutters. She brings her free hand to sandwich his between her own. “But you're hurt,” her tone is soft, pleading. 

“There will be…” The trail of magic falters for an instant with the brief clench of his features. He looks too pale. “There will be no mistakes this time.”

Her mouth opens and shuts as she tries again. “But-but—”

“You've been feeding me your spirit energy for a while now,” he spares her a small smile, his thumb starting up an absent-minded stroke along the back of her hand. “It’s more complicated than erasing a mortal's memory…” he grits his teeth, “but nothing I can’t succeed at.”

She wants more than anything to not allow him to push himself when he's so worn down. It was not long ago when she thought he was—

Squeezing her eyes shut at the choking burn building at the back of her throat and searing at her lids, she lowers her cheek to his shoulder, cradling his arm to her chest.

Da Mutou is a protector at heart. Whether as a ruthless tyrant or a wholehearted, self-sacrificing da mutou, he will not be swayed from this mission. And she can think of nothing on such short notice that would stall him so that she can get him to help. 

“He had been moving closer, hoping to catch us by surprise, knowing of my weakened state,” he says absently, attracting her gaze. A devilish smirk emerges and spreads across his lips. “But it made it easier for me to do the same in turn.”

She stares at Lord Changheng's relaxed expression, body settled in an uncomfortable looking heap, and feels a weight form in her chest. 

She does not understand why Lord Changheng has loved her for so long. They don't know each other’s hearts. But fated souls are considered a gift from Heaven itself in Shuiyuntian. And now knowing Fate Marks negate any prior entanglements, Lord Changheng wants to use this to his advantage. But… “Would he have really just taken me to Lucheng against my wishes?”

“I took you to the Cangyan Sea.” Da Mutou reminds her in a neutral manner she knows disguises his complete lack of regret.

She pouts. “You were protecting me, Da Mutou.”

“In his mind, he's doing the same. By taking you from here, he's saving you from my supposed deception while also keeping you for himself. The best of a bad bunch,” he repeats the moniker from long ago, tone scathing.

“But… isn't that what you did as well?” She points out without thought. 

If looks held power, Da Mutou would make her a withered orchid for daring to liken the two scenarios. 

A bubbly giggle escapes her grasp. She is so glad he has enough within him to react this way. 

His sharpness softens under the persistence of fondness, naturally lulling her into a calm. Drawing a line through the cool, silky sand, she reflects on that time what feels like ages ago while his attention recenters on the magic he weaves. 

“I remember being infuriated at first, being taken from Shuiyuntian, my Fate Tree, my pets… And it hurt so much when after that, you also told me everything between us was fake, because… because I had already—” Her fluster overcomes her just feeling the way her heart sings and soars, and her belly flips and swoops and dances. Her skin growing warm. Her lungs breathless.

They have already kissed and touched, yet the emotions between them are sustained. Thick and tangible. Inescapable. 

And when he drifts into her gaze as if guided by something inexplicable, she knows it's because what they've given into against all odds is still so new. She can't imagine what it will be like as they continue to crescendo over thousands of years.

She swallows, utterly entranced. “I agree. You taking me was very different.” 

The thin stream of her magic tapers off with the lowering of his hand. He unlocks his hold to place one hand on her waist, then the other. 

Her heartbeat spikes higher and higher, but all she can think about is how pretty his soft smile is. How she wishes to make him this happy everyday. Forever.

His forehead rests against hers and all at once one thing, one need, becomes more necessary than her next breath.

She can see in the widening of his pupils that he knows. He always knows. 

“But… You… You're…” she breathes, trailing off as her senses surge and her mind goes quiet. 

“It's done,” he hushes in the lower register of his voice she feels in the stirring of her blood more than hears. 

His hands coast up her quivering spine to cup the nape of her neck, thumbs stroking embers into the line of her jaw. 

“So beautiful…” he sighs, reverent, tugging her to him. 

Their lips come together like stars that have endured eons of fruitless separation, soft and slow. Tingles flood her head, racing through her blood, saturating her in yearning. She sighs into him, hands finding purchase on his chest, slips her bottom lip between the seam of his. 

A shiver flows through his body in a wave, erupting in a breathy groan. His hand notches at the dip of her back and hauls her astride his lap, her figure yanked flush to his. Her lips part round and he angles his head, their noses brushing, lips rubbing, to capture her mouth in a drawn out caress.

Heat flashes down her neck and her head grows fuzzy. The throb of his heart against hers feels a part of her. The strong security of his arms, the tender stroke of his thumb along her cheek even as he explores her mouth with tireless vigor is the final spark that shatters her remaining inhibitions—

“My Lord!”

“Moon Supreme Lord!”

She tears her mouth from Da Mutou's and dives into the sea of flowers as Shangque and Jieli's calls pour across her with the shocking strength of ice water.

The swish of the sand beneath rushing feet slow. “Uh…”

“Shangque.” Da Mutou addresses him, sounding utterly unruffled.

She continues to hide beneath her hands, desperate not to see anyone's expression. 

“Yes!”

“Take Changheng and send him up the river back to Shuiyuntian.”

“On it!”

Chewing her lip, she takes a steadying breath, and peeks between the gaps of her fingers.

She spots Shangque hoist Lord Changheng's flopping body over his shoulder, heading towards the river without breaking stride.

And Jieli standing not too far off, her arms crossed with devious delight bleeding into her restrained grin and glinting madly within her eyes. 

Orchid whines at this, just knowing her friend will hound her through the night for descriptive details.

Well, unless she hides with Da Mutou. He needs to be taken care of after all. 

Jieli shoots her a knowing, toothy grin before jogging towards the shore. “Black Dragon! Wait up!”

A few beats pass. Then a couple more. She gives it another moment before she lowers her hands, bit by bit. Casting a brief glance to her right, she tries to pretend like she hadn't as she fiddles with her Bone Orchid.

Da Mutou had been peering at her, cheek upon fist as if he had not a care in the world. 

She pouts, jealous at his ability to be so unbothered by being seen in such an intimate moment. Him and his Moon Supreme confidence, she grumbles internally. 

Deciding to regroup, or rather pretend like nothing happened, her demeanor finally springs back into place. She turns to face Da Qiang without a flinch, to her relief. 

“Soo…” she drags out playfully, “What memory did you give him, Da Mutou?”

There is something very impish about the slow smile that rests crooked upon his face.

So when he collects her hands and interlaces their fingers, she does not know what she expects him to do.

There's a shimmer of warmth in her chest as her power rouses. Her skin prickles as if a mist is falling all around, and then… 

It's like viewing things through the haze of a dream, or in this case, a memory.

She sees herself and Da Mutou, standing together, pressed close as they had been in front of Lord Changheng. Although her attire has been altered. It's not unsightly like the getup Jieli and Da Mutou dressed her in to deter Xiao Run, but it's far less stunning. Like comparing a shiny pebble to a pearl. There is no comparison. 

The conversation the three are having catches up to her.

It's clear in this version of events, she managed to mostly convince Lord Changheng of her lack of Fate Mark and her unequivocal wish to remain with Dongfang Qingcang. But because of Fairy Danyin's account of the matter, Lord Changheng asks to see her Mark… 

And memory Orchid, in agreement, turns so her back is facing Lord Changheng. She unties the emerald green sash keeping the blouse and floor length skirt cinched together. 

Concealed between her long, billowing sleeves and his front, she locks with Da Mutou, and lifts—

Practically blowing out a lung with her gasp, she wrenches her hands free of his and pounces. He goes flat into the sand on his back, his eyes wide though mirth grants her a glimpse of his teeth. 

“Da Mutou! Da Mutou! You!” She smacks pulled punches at his chest, so riddled with embarrassment she can't find the words. “You did not! There is no way Lord Changheng would believe he just stood there and watched!”

Although amused, there's no teasing squint to his eyes. There's simply patience in his regard of her. “He didn't ‘just look’, Xiǎo Huāyāo. Finish the memory.”

She studies him for a long moment, hands fisted into the fine material over his chest. She considers finding a way to use the cloth to throttle him. But eventually, she releases a breath. Mouth screwed into a pout, she says nothing more. 

His eyes soften as does his mouth into a wisp of a smile. He sits up, and takes a hold of her hips. In place of situating her the way she had been sitting before, he repositions her so that she sits between his legs, her back to his chest. 

His cheek nuzzles against the side of hers. “Like this, your thorns aren't as sharp.” Is his only explanation as his hands rest palms skyward on her thighs.

Her racing heart fuels the blush in her face. She knows he can feel it like this, and doesn't care. They're both gritty with sand, but she's never been more content.

Her hands stretch flat over his, sweeping her back into the conjured memory.

Lord Changheng doesn't just watch. He casts a swift dispelling charm at her back which wouldn't have made it past Da Mutou's defenses in any other scenario, lending to the memory's credibility. The hasty act reveals what they want him to believe. 

She is a blank soul. 

Lord Changheng apologizes, bowing to them both, and departs on his own.

The memory is solid. 

However, a familiar churning pulls and tugs at her stomach with sharp, uncaring viciousness.

Trying to avoid it, she quickly asks, “Why change the memory of my dress?” It seems like a potential risk over something so inconsequential.

But then he moves so his lips are brushing the shell of her ear. “The sight of you in your wedding dress is not his to have. It's mine alone,” he possessive utterance is capped off with a press of his lips to the lobe of her ear, then one whisper soft to the skin of her neck.

She feels like the strings on his zither, lovingly stroked, her entire body thrumming as she relaxes into him with a sigh. 

Da Mutou presses one last kiss to her neck before releasing a breath that foretells his next words. “The memory will eventually fall apart due to Fairy Danyin’s influence.”

It's no surprise he knew what she had been attempting to avoid voicing. “She is very headstrong. So… he'll come back eventually.” She mumbles, crestfallen, eyes tracing the greens and blues waving across the winking stars of the night sky. “And he might bring the whole of Shuiyuntian with him.”

His arms bring theirs in a cross over her body. “I won't let anyone take you from me,” he declares with the fierce surety the Moon Supreme is feared for.

It blankets her in safety, his comforting embrace allowing her to close her eyes. And for the time being, she lets that promise wash away her worries. 

Nonetheless, one thing continues to niggle at the back of her mind. It had only been a moment, but she swore she saw paint-like streaks on the right palm of the Orchid walking down the aisle with Lord Changheng. Everything else had looked so pristine. On one's wedding day… Why would that stain be there?