#hua!writes

[gutouhua]

pairing. zhongli x f. reader

wc. 2.7k+

rating. explicit

tags. sort of canonverse, zhongli has ruts & dragon fangs, reader hails from mondstat, mentions of mates/mating, mentions of eating animal meat, zhongli is a perv for reader, zhongli calls reader ‘pet,’ age gap (reader is early-mid 20s, zhongli is biologically in early 30s), mentions of zhongli’s previous sexual relationships (dubcon), power dynamics, cervixfucking, overstimulation (sort of), zhongli wants to breed reader, pussydrunk zhongli, unprotected sex (pull out method)

a/n. MDNI! see end for notes

Zhongli had imagined it over a million times—taking you across the table and fucking your pussy. He knew you’d smell good down there, had scented it like a pervert in the days before your period—familiar lily mixed with strong musk and a tinge of metal. It made his fangs itch from the need to sink into your soft thighs and tongue at your slick folds.

Zhongli rutted in early spring, when trees blossomed and bore fat fruit—juicy peaches hanging heavy on thin branches. Sometimes he’d walk by them and look at them with an almost forlorn gaze. A deep ache in his body.

He wished that there was someone who would satiate his needs like seeds did to trees or bees with flowers. They mated with each other, year after year in a frenzy—a haze of powdery yellow spilling on every surface of Liyue Harbor. Zhongli didn’t have allergies, but even if he did, he would still love and envy the pollen.

It had been a long time since Zhongli had someone like that to spend his seasons with. A mate.

He’d drink copious amounts of lily bulb tea each spring to keep himself from fucking the first person who said yes to him, and would take himself into his hands with a furious passion every morning and night—even during work breaks—to relieve himself.

And it worked. He successfully passed multiple centuries of ruts like so, although it wasn’t always easy. As Morax, he was volatile—could pass for the Pyro Archon herself, Murata, but he tempered himself over the years, learning to be the composed man he was now.

But then you appeared, and the fire flared. Hutao’s newest intern—the first in nearly a decade, fresh. A slight little creature (although most people were small compared to Zhongli), and eager to learn about funeral services from Liyue’s very best. It was the first time you’d been to Liyue, so far from your home in Mondstat, and everything and everyone interested you.

I wonder if there’s a way to breed two creatures together to create an actual cocogoat. It’d be cool—Qiqi would be able to drink actual cocogoat milk, not that cheap substitute that Baizhu makes for her, and we’d be able to eat the meat. It’d taste good, right?

Zhongli chuckled, eyes soft on you. That would be a sight to behold. He didn’t mention that he’d been alive when cocogoats still roamed the Bishui Plains—a story for another time.

And then came the questions about himself.

Why are you so red, Zhongli-xiangsheng?

His rut came early this year for some reason, but he didn’t pay much attention to it. The lily bulb tea would suffice until he had a moment for himself.

But you had to make it difficult. So difficult for him.

Nothing, he murmured.

You grinned, stepping closer on tiptoes so your eyes leveled his chest. Soft rise and fall—imperceptible unless face to face like you were.

It doesn’t seem like nothing to me, Xiangsheng.

Zhongli fought the urge to inhale your soft scent. Sweet, powdery like lilies and dusk and something tender he wanted to bite—

—And he tasted blood in his mouth to stop his fangs from descending onto your exposed neck, nearly shook from the force it took to not bend you over his desk.

It would leave a mess. And Hutao would add it to his tab.

Even now you tempted him with coy glances, a bare shoulder, and sometimes a lingering touch in the space between his cuff and gloves—sharp like the sting of the formidable Raiden’s electro bolts.

“Do you want to know what I learned today, Xiansheng?” You had taken to calling him that instead of his mortal name one day. Zhongli wasn’t quite sure why, but he liked how it sounded on your lips.

He smoothed an invisible wrinkle from his suit and shuffled the papers on his desk while shifting to hide the stiffness in his pants. “Pray, do tell.”

You leaned forward, settling your weight on the heavy oak table. “I heard you’re rutting right now.”

Zhongli nearly choked on his tea. “What?”

“Rut, heat, season—Hutao told me.” You shrugged as if the topic was something mundane. “She said you rut every spring, but that it’s unusually strong this year for some reason. Something about the aura around you, I think. Why’s that?”

Because of you.

“Not sure,” Zhongli said.

“She also told me about that tea you drink.”

He nearly dropped his cup of tea. Damn the woman. Spilling all my secrets. And there wasn’t a single thing he could do—he was on her payroll.

��What about it?” he asked, trying for confidence.

“Lily bulb tea,” you continued, scrutinizing his cup, “apparently it helps calm you down and dampens the urge to fuck.”

Zhongli’s dick hardened.

“So does it?”

“What?”

“The tea. Does it help with your urges?” You jerked your head at the drink, curious.

Not when you’re around.

Zhongli had imagined it over a million times—taking you across the table and fucking your pussy. He knew you’d smell good down there, had scented it like a pervert in the days before your period—familiar lily mixed with strong musk and a tinge of metal. It made his fangs itch from the need to sink into your soft thighs and tongue at your slick folds.

He wasn’t sure what to say, but finally decided on: “Not really.”

You cocked your head to the side and bit your lips, Zhongli’s eyes following the pink tongue that peeked through. He wanted to bite them too. They’d be soft and break easily with a little bit of teeth—like almond tofu.

“Oh. Then what’re you going to do about it?”

“The usual.” Tea, masturbating, some rough fucking. Archons knew he’d need it tonight—some sort of distraction from you. He’d have to visit Madame Fang for an escort. She was used to his proclivities—would have someone able to take him.

“The usual? And what would that be?” Zhongli could almost picture you with a pen and paper in hand, a student eager for information.

He groaned internally. Now he was imagining you in a short skirt, stockings, maybe thigh highs—the fat of your thighs spilling from the top of the elastic. The image nearly had him spilling in his pants.

“I don’t think you’d want to know the particulars,” he said, his voice a soft rasp. He shifted again. “It might scare an innocent little girl like you.”

“Innocent?” You huffed. “Little? I’m a grown adult xiangsheng! I’m over the legal age—and actually much more than that. You can hardly call me little or innocent.”

“But you are,” he said indulgently, as one would towards a spoiled pet. “I am immortal, have fought and survived the Archon War. Tell me, pet, can you say the same?”

He was playing with you. Of course the two of you knew you couldn’t compare to him.

“But at the very least, you cannot consider me innocent. I’ve experienced enough things,” you muttered, annoyed.

Zhongli arched an eyebrow.

Before you knew it, he grabbed your wrist, pushing you onto the desk in one fluid motion—papers scattering to the floor like spring pollen. Zhongli pinned your hands over your head to keep you in place, and knocked your legs apart to slot his large frame between you.

“W-What’re you doing, Zhongli?”

He smiled. And there it was: his name always slipped out when you got serious.

Xiansheng.

What?

Xiansheng. He moved closer, spreading your legs further apart as he drew closer to you. You could feel your stomach pressing tightly against the cotton of your suit with each breath, your chest straining against buttons. Don’t be so impolite when your boss is trying to school you.

Xiansheng.

Good girl, he rumbled. You were so curious about the specifics of my rut—what I do to satiate my needs. Shall I show you? They say firsthand experience is the best way to learn.

His voice was heavy, hot against your ear, and you nearly jumped out of your skin when he darted a tongue out to lick the delicate shell of your ear.

So sensitive. I wonder if it’s the same in other places. Shall we find out?

Hutao had ordered him to be careful with you—a family friend. Your family owned the most successful funeral parlor in Mondstat, and they sent you to Hutao to learn how she conducted her business in Liyue. Zhongli had agreed. He could keep his hands to himself.

But then you showed up on the steps of Wansheng funeral parlor, and he knew he was fucked.

Do you want it, he whispered, I need to rut, but I always ask for permission.

Jealousy reared its ugly head. He’d done it with others—for decades, maybe even centuries, and it made sense, you couldn’t expect celibacy from him and yet…the thought of other people touching him made you want to rake your hands down his back, gouge, and suck every inch of his skin so others would know he was taken.

That he was yours.

What will it be, pet?

You nodded, eyeing the bulge in his pants. He was big. It was obvious, and it’d probably hurt. A tight fit.

Zhongli smiled—sharp teeth, predatory. I need words.

Yes.

No sooner did you give your permission did he slip your blazer off your shoulders and loosen just enough buttons to push your blouse up and over your head. You wore cotton—a simple white bra, and he wondered if you wore a matching set today.

He didn’t have to wait long to find out: you were already unzipping your pants, sliding stiff fabric down your legs, uncaring if it wrinkled. You’d have to remember to take it to the cleaners.

But later—now, you canted your hips forward, not caring about anything but the man in front of you.

So needy, he murmured, and wet.

His scent intoxicated you, his weight a delicious pressure against your skin.

Zhongli rocked against your clothed pussy, pleased to find you wet. You soaked through the cotton fabric, leaving an imprint in the shape of your pussy on your panties.

Fuck me, xiangsheng, please—I need it.

The scent of your arousal grew stronger with each tap against the wet spot. Heady, mind-numbing, as if a drug was coursing through his bloodstream. The amber of his hands grew darker, a deep, gorgeous fossilized hue, and his pupils thinned—they slitted into a sharp, almost feline countenance, predator to prey.

You would have me? he asked again, stars pulsing in his eyes. In his earlier days, before he was an archon, he had taken people without knowing what it really meant. The shame and guilt of it had made the act feel dirty for a long time—he went nearly fifty years without a single partner to help him through his ruts.

He would not make the same mistake with you.

Just fuck me.

He groaned, pulled your panties to the side—white cotton—and pushed himself into you, the entire length. It was tight and it burned as you struggled, walls stretching to accommodate his dick.

Feels so good, he grunted, you’re so tight, fuck. He lost himself in your tight heat, centuries of manners and poise melting before you.

He moved slowly at first, dragging his length out so that nothing but the tip remained inside before thrusting back in.

You shifted backward, trying to adjust to him. Soft pants, shallow—eyes squeezed shut to focus on each heavy stroke in and out of your cunt. When you started moving against him, seeking friction for yourself, Zhongli sped up. Kept most of his cock inside you with each stroke, prodding around for your sweet spot.

When he finally found it, earning a cry and squeeze around his cock that nearly made him cum, he smiled. Right there, pet?

You gasped, struggled to answer: Yeah, yeah-right there—

He continued to thrust, imprinting your insides with the shape of his dick, hitting that sensitive spot with almost boyish eagerness, but it still wasn’t enough to—

—You reached down to where his dick is splitting you apart and try to rub your clit, the hard nub aching for attention, but Zhongli pushed your hand away.

Allow me.

You almost whine—denial twisting your stomach into a tight knot, leaving your clit wanting, but he didn’t make you wait long. Deft fingers rubbed circles on your clit, grinding, until it swelled enough for him to pinch, hard.

Zhongli, please—

What did I say pet, he hummed and bit your earlobe in admonishment.

Xian-Xiansheng—

You were begging now, pleading—tears dripping from your face like fresh paint on canvas.

Please, xiansheng, please, I need it.

What do you need? He thrust forward, the head almost kissing your cervix.

Need…

Need what? Use your words, pretty pet. Another hard thrust, this time he touched your cervix. Half pain, half pleasure. Lines slowly starting to blur—was it because of his dick or your tears? You couldn’t tell.

You shook your head and fisted your hands in the collar of his suit, wrinkling the fine material as you dragged his face towards you to claim a kiss. Harsh and unyielding, a faint taste of iron between each ragged breath. Now you’d have to take two suits to the cleaners.

Vaguely, in the back of your mind, you’d forgotten how you even got into this situation in the first place. Something about lily bulb tea, alone time…and ruts…heats. Heat—were you the one in heat or was it him?

But it didn’t matter, all you knew was that:

Need to cum.

Zhongli’s pretty lips curled. And so you shall.

With one hand on your hips, he slammed his hips against yours in a punishing rhythm while his other hand battered your clit, thick fingers flicking the hard nub repeatedly until you felt nearly numb from the overstimulation. He felt you tense beneath him, hips rolling incessantly, your cunt gripping him so tightly he knew he was close.

Cum for me, he demanded, almost growling, give it to me.

And you obeyed—gave yourself over to the pleasure, moaning from the waves of pleasure washing over you.

Zhongli groaned as you contracted around him, each tight draw from your pussy taking him closer to his own release. Hips stuttering, he felt his fangs slip through, throbbing from the desire to taste you, bite you, mark you—

—Breed you.

It was messy, each time he pulled back and saw the amount of slick that coated his cock, his mind grew fuzzier, almost stupid. Zhongli couldn’t remember the last time he felt pussydrunk—

You bit the side of his neck as another orgasm ripped out of you, and this time Zhongli let himself go with a harsh growl, pulling out right as he cummed, thick ropes of sticky cum defiling your stomach. It was dizzyingly maddening: his cum moving with each shaky exhale, dripping onto your pussy, and Zhongli thought it was such a waste that it wasn’t inside you, filling you up. Some of it covered your clit—a glistening pearl. He fought every fiber of his being to not bend down and lick it. He didn’t like sweet things, but you were an exception.

“Did you learn a lot?” he finally asked after your breath had steadied a bit.

You were still coming down from your high, barely able to form a coherent sentence. “What?”

“I was teaching you,” he chuckled, voice husky. “Were you a good student? Paying attention?”

You thought about it for a moment. Looked at his disheveled appearance, his golden eyes, the wrinkles in his suit, and found it lacking.

“Not enough.”

“I am in agreement.”

Hutao narrowed her eyes. “You fucked him.”

“And what if I did? It’s not like you’ll fire me,” you replied lightly.

Hutao groaned. “I knew you wanted to fuck him, but I didn’t think you wanted to do it that badly. It’s not exactly good for my business, and you know he’ll stick to you for the rest of his season, right? That’s how it works for him. He doesn’t share.”

“Well good. Because I don’t either.” You wouldn’t have chosen him anyway if he liked to share. “But wait—what do you mean ‘not exactly good for your business?’”

The Wangsheng Director grinned at you. “Look at him: one of the most eligible bachelors in Liyue. Didn’t you notice that we have a large number of young clients? They come to Wangsheng because of him. I don’t care who Zhongli fucks as long as they give me their money—it keeps my beloved Wangsheng as the most profitable funeral parlor in Liyue.”

“Of course you would say that.” You laughed and thought about all the times your parents praised Hutao. “No wonder my parents sent me here to learn from you.”

Hutao winked. “Of course! Making money is the second best thing I’m good at.”

“What’s the first?”

“Death.”

uhhh i wrote this one about six-ish months ago too...been busy with zine work but hopefully when I'm done I can write more reader insert smut :') (also sorta tried a new style of dialogue lmao back when I wrote this)

Murata, also known as the God of War and the Lady of Fire, was a Pyro Archon and a member of The Seven who presided over Natlan.

先生 - xiānsheng. Has two main definitions: the first is teacher, the second is mister (Mr); gentleman; sir. Both suit Zhongli very well in this fic ;)

Dried lily bulb【百合】 is usually recommended in TCM (traditional Chinese medicine) clinics to treat coughs, dry throats and relieve heat. (But IRL, this doesn’t actually help with the horny feels LOL.) 

Zhongli as Morax has darker brown/amber skin tone on arms, so I chose to depict this in the fic as skin darkening when aroused. I also put a photo of something similar on an actual body. 

[bishy437]

he won

bonus:

[biboomerangboi]

Hua Cheng essentially cockblocking himself for possibly all of eternity will literally never not be the funniest thing MXTX ever wrote.

Xie Lian was pretty much completely in love with him the second he saw those lanterns (and completely oblivious about it) and then we get the wonderful first kiss underwater moment and Xie Lian is basically drawing hearts around Hua Cheng every time he sees him. While like quietly dying cause he literally has no idea what to do with it. Like at this point he doesn’t even really understand that he is head over heels totally gone for this man.

Until Hua Cheng is like I have a beloved I just haven’t won them over yet. Which he thinks is perfectly reasonable because his self esteem is the worst and he doesn’t understand how he could have won Xie Lian over yet. (He’s only on step 22 of his Marrying Dianxia 3000 step Master Plan ((that he debates throwing out on a regular basis because he doesn’t deserve to even dream about wanting Xie Lian)). So course he’s like yeah I have this wonderful noble beautiful beloved I just haven’t won them over yet wink wink nudge nudge.

But Xie Lian is like oh of course obviously I don’t deserve nice things and fuck I actually wanted him so badly I’m actually in love with him and now I will resign myself to never being happy for his sake. (Their combined self esteem is truly a so low it’s a hole in the ground which is hilarious because they think the other person is to good for them and unattainable forever because they literally have the same neurosis.) So he starts boxing up his feelings forever constantly wanting Hua Cheng and feeling guilty about it and literally dying inside because he wants Hua Cheng like he’s never wanted anyone.

Like essentially books 3 and 5 only happen because Hua Cheng has now cursed them both by saying he has a beloved because Xie Lian believes he isn’t wanted and therefore any nice thing Hua Cheng does is just him being nice and not Hua Cheng pulling out steps 23-34 of his plan thinking he still hasn’t won Xie Lian over. (He has he so has but he shot himself in the foot so badly it’s painful to read).

Like thank the Gods Hua Cheng is so unhinged and created the cave of 10000 Gods cause Xie Lian would literally be at his own wedding to Hua Cheng still convinced he wanted someone else and this was in fact a thing they were doing to solve a case together otherwise.

Like he needed something that unhinged to put 2 and 2 together otherwise he never would have caught on he’s Hua Cheng’s beloved. Meanwhile Hua cheng is like 🥺 he’s going to think I’m a weirdo now and I’m only on step 50 of the plan 🥺 like the two of them wouldn’t have been fucking nasty 2 books ago if he just kept his mouth shut and didn’t cockblock himself so violently.

[red-pearl-white-flower]

“How many times?” Xie Lian asked, wide-eyed, utterly captured. Nothing had ever managed to bespell him so thoroughly and so quickly, save perhaps for the art of the sword. The way San Lang looked at him, like he was the focus of his attention, the focus of his entire being, was addicting. “How many times have you married me?” “Four.”

On the matter of safety, aka my very own amnesia extra!

[qifreyplushie]

SORRY EVERYONE I GOT CAUGHT UP IN WRITING ANOTHER FIC LOL... please take this crumb in the meantime <3 I shall be done soon i think....

[xiaoorei]

[sunderwight]

Hualian Idol AU where instead of the statues the big reveal of Hua Cheng's longstanding amorous fixation on Xie Lian is all of his self-insert "my mom sold me to One Direction" style fanfics located in the depths of some boyband RPF archive.

[shadowgale96]

Alternate meeting idea between hualian where XL accidentally finds HCs ashes while scrap collecting in an area that had once been his shrine, and HC is on a hellish crusade to catch the trash that dares handle his ashes when it’s for his gods hands alone.

[via-the-cryptid]

tgcf au where hc’s true form is Wu Ming. it’s what he looked like right after he died, and even if he reinvents himself, even if he’s gained more strength and power from the Kiln, he still can’t grow or change but so much without involving shapeshifting. his canon form is the one he built for himself, the one he created with the intention of becoming an entirely new being (not weak or helpless, like he used to be before he sculpted a new identity), but it isn’t his true form. his true form is still that bony little waif of a soldier, the one that tried to so hard to help his god but couldn’t truly fix anything in the end.

and now, imagine just how much xl is going to lose his mind when hc inevitably shows him this true form (after much hesitation, but hc really can’t deny his beloved god anything and he would never want to, even if he’s practically ready to dissipate from the shamefulness of that awful body). think of hc changing into the half-starved ghost of Wu Ming, not expecting xl to even remember the ghost — let alone recognize him — and then think of just how hard xl is going to cry when he realises that Wu Ming is still here and still following him after all.

[gutouhua]

𝖌𝖔𝖏𝖔 𝖝 𝖋.𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗, 𝖇𝖗𝖔𝖐𝖊𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖑 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌, 𝖏𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖆 𝖜𝖊𝖆𝖕𝖔𝖓 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖘𝖔𝖈𝖎𝖊𝖙𝖞!𝖌𝖔𝖏𝖔 x angst and lowkey toxic authority/subordinate fwb relationship, 18+ mdni, (trying to get back into writing, just a mini practice); hair pulling part is inspired by @/suguwu's yakuza itoshi & shidou reader drabble i reblogged recently <3)

Gojo stills remembers the feeling of his wings getting clipped.

The sharp, decisive blade shearing through snowy feathers. Two crimson lines spurting bloody ichor. A cold hand against the searing heat.

It was not supposed to happen like that.

You, standing behind him. An execution. Your righteous sword heavy in your callused palm. A tortured expression—as if your wings were being cut.

He can still remember it now even as your two palms press against the raised pink scars, nails running up and down his back.

“Slower.”

But he didn’t—

“I said slower, Gojo,” you hiss, voice rising as he cants his hip deeper inside you. “I can’t—“

“You didn’t say that last time I was inside you, General. Why the change in heart now?”

Your hands slid up his neck, cupping, possessing, before finding purchase in his white shock of hair and tugging hard against his scalp to force his eyes to meet yours.

“I said, slower, Gojo,” you gasp even as you try to steady your voice. “Listen to your superior or I’ll punish you.”

Wild eyes pierce your command, the blue crystalline from lust. But he only thrusts harder into you, forcing his cock to kiss your womb. He liked seeing you suffer beneath him—at least when you let him.

And maybe, just maybe, he wanted to punish you as well. See that pained look on your face again.

“Then punish me.”

[disgracefulthings]

SVSSSxTGCF AU where Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky was an actual god before he transmigrated as Shang Qinghua, but was executed by the other gods after Xie Lian's 2nd banishment. Hundreds of years later Xie Lian reunites with him in Ghost City (Shang Qinghua is trying to secure an alliance with the Ghost King for the Northern Palace), however Airplane does not remember his time as a god

Edit: Forgot to mention, he was executed because he created Heavenly Demons

[biboomerangboi]

Hua Cheng is just so iconic to us because he is in fact a tumblr girlie. Notebook filled to the brim with sketches of his blorbo. Info dumps galore. Maximalist fashion to the nines. Outfits based on accessories. Has all of the genders under one big shapeshifting trench coat. Hates the ruling class. Excuses every problematic thing his blorbo does and stands by them in the group chats. Insane reaction to people who dislike his blorbo and says mean things about them, burning temples is the doxxing of his time. He belongs on here with us.

[whatmattersisyou]

Hua Cheng is the Simpest of Simps™ and I, as a simp myself, get him so much. Loving someone the way he loves Xie Lian is terrifying and also amazing. Been there, done that, still doing it and I don't wanna do anything for the rest of my life.

His love is in the big gestures but also in the smol things.

It's in the 10k statues but also telling Xie Lian to cry out if it hurts. it's in sacrificing his unlife so that Xie Lian can live and thrive. It's also in being the most sincere person he'd ever meet.

It's in the gentle way he paints Xie Lian, in the soft, delicate brush of hands at the Gamblers Den. It's in wanting to protect him without caging him in. It's in allowing Xie Lian to be himself, and be there with him.

Don't fight me on this cause I don't have the spoons, but I believe that love is a choice. And Hua Cheng has been making that choice for 800 years and will make it for the rest of eternity.

It's all-encompassing and it is so, so scary. When you love someone like that, you have so much to lose. Yet Hua Cheng always chooses love and I can't respect him more for that.

[echochqmber]

if hualian did a meet the parents somehow, xie lian's father wouldn't even have time to disapprove of him being a ghost. he'd be too busy disapproving of him being new money.

[asoftepiloguemylove]

unknown // Mo Xiang Tong Xiu 天官赐福 Heaven Official's Blessing // リップヴァンウィンクルの花嫁 A Bride for Rip Van Winkle (2016) dir. Shunji Iwai // Odysseus Elytis The Axion Esti // Nayyirah Waheed Nejma // ENHYPEN Blind // unknown // Franz Kafka Letters to Milena // 今際の国のアリス Alice in Borderland (2020-) dir. Shinsuke Sato // unknown // Anna Akhmatova The Road is Black // unknown // 刻在你心底的名字 Your Name Engraved Herein (2020) dir. Patrick Kuang-Hui Liu // unknown

[catsoverboyss]

I'm thinking tang bo returns au, in which he comes back as some random tang clan npc child...

The first thing he does, after terrorizing a random cousin for information of course, is focus on cultivation, both for himself and his family.

I imagine him pulling a Cheng Myeong and coming up to Tang Gunak with a box full of scrolls like "Omg, i just found these scrolls with ancient martial arts burried there. Ah? The ink is still wet? Ha ha ha, you're so funny my lord!" He then teaches the techniques himself. Subtlety? never heard of her.

Soon, he managed to best all of Tang Gunak's children. And as the greatest Tang of all Tangs, what does he do with his freedom? Go to Mount Hua of course!

He heard the sect was in shambles, for his Hyung-nim, he would help these children!

But he doesn't find helpless children at the top of the mountain, instead, he finds a boy.

A boy with pink eyes and an ugly scowl.

A boy who's gaze seemed to turn sad the moment his eyes met his.

A boy... who looked much alike someone he once knew, someone he once loved.

He couldn’t stop himself from muttering a quiet "Hyung-Nim?" Praying to the gods he wasn’t mistaken, praying his old mind hadn't betrayed, playing tricks the same way his traitorous heart was.

To his absolute delight, the boy in question answered him, spouting words he never thought he would hear again. Or at least not with that sweet tone, not with those loving eyes that sparked joy into his very being and his heart jump in excitement. "Tang Bo-ya?"