Present—

Qian Meng's arm shot out without warning, his scar-riddled hand wrapping around the throat of the demon with bruising force. The creature didn't have time to dodge or gasp, fathomless eyes going wide as it was lifted off the ground. Lei Gong winced as he watched his Zhiyin drag the creature across the counter to throw him onto the floor at their feet. The thing curled into a pathetic ball, hugging its head and shielding its stomach from blows that never came. Qian Meng wasn't the type to torture people. Even so, Lei Gong couldn't bring himself to feel bad for the demon when it was courting its own demise.

A kiss… Was the creature insane?!

Only someone who didn't value their life would ask a dangerous man like Qian Meng for such a thing! It was wrong on so many levels. Deep in his heart, the God had always longed to know what his Zhiyin's lips felt like against his own, but not in this way! Lei Gong peeked at his friend, paling at how angry he looked. The dark cultivator's face was flaming a bitter red, and his eyes… They were like pools of ebony fire as he crouched down over the creature, gripping a fistful of the thing's tunic.

"I said no unbalanced deals," he hissed.

The demon coughed, eyes watering as it glared. "You think confidential information on my clients is worth nothing? Think again! The exchange of currency is different for demons. Emotions are expensive, and yours are of higher quality than most."

With a look of disgust, Qian Meng shoved the creature back to the floor. "Explain," he demanded.

The demon rolled its wrist, sitting up on one forearm. "Because emotion is rare for someone like you."

For a moment, there was a terribly awkward silence. Everyone knew exactly what the creature meant by that, but no one wanted to point it out. Qian Meng was seething, eyes narrowed to slits as his hands curled into fists. His shoulders bunched at the same moment Lei Gong stepped forward, placing a hand on Qian Meng's arm to stop him from killing their only source of information.

The dark cultivator shook in place before tearing his deadly glare from the demon to look at Lei Gong. It brought the cultivators' faces very close, eyes locking in a silent battle of wills. The demon watched in wonder as the two had a noiseless conversation. Half an incense time passed before Qian Meng was convinced to back down, stepping away and crossing his arms. Crisis averted, the God glanced at the demon, brows raised.

"If you value your existence, retrieve the records. We will prepare for payment."

It needn't be told twice. The creature scrambled up and darted through the curtain behind the counter, leaving the two alone. The air between them was charged as Qian Meng turned to Lei Gong, one brow arched.

"Prepare for payment? Are you serious?" He asked.

The God let out a weary sigh. "What else are we supposed to do? The demon will not give us the information we seek for any other price. It's already decided."

The dark cultivator shifted from foot to foot, hating that Lei Gong was right. He didn't know why he was so against the idea. In theory, a quick kiss on the lips was no hardship. There were far worse payments the demon could have demanded, and despite his venomous threats, they all knew the creature held the upper hand here.

The problem wasn't the act itself, no; it was Qian Meng's reaction to it.

Earlier, his stomach had swooped low before climbing its way back up his throat to choke the air from his lungs. He felt hot all over, and the burning need to sink into the floor so no one could witness it was stark. The dark cultivator still kind of felt that way as he tried to come up with something to say in response, lips pursed.

Lei Gong watched him struggle, sympathy coating his heart that he kept from his face. He knew if Qian Meng glimpsed it the man would be furious, for sympathy so often looked like pity. And if there was one thing his Zhiyin hated, it was others feeling sorry for him. Yet, Lei Gong's sympathy didn't stop him from teasing Qian Meng mercilessly. He shifted a step closer, tilting his head to the left and tucking his arms behind his back.

"Is kissing me really cause for anger?"

Qian Meng eyed him. "I will not answer that."

Lei Gong chuckled, batting his lashes. "Oh, come on!"

The dark cultivator scowled. "Stop it with your nonsense."

Before he could wheedle him further, the demon reemerged from the back of the shop carrying a thick blood-red scroll withered by age. The creature unrolled it, eyes darting across the faded ink so quickly it was almost impressive. After half an incense time, it seemed to find what it was looking for, giving a small exclamation as it glanced up, dark eyes shining.

"Found it! I can copy this information as soon as I receive payment."

Qian Meng's mouth went dry as Lei Gong slowly took hold of his shoulders, turning them to face one another. They were close, too close, and the dark cultivator could hear his heartbeat to where it was almost deafening. Beneath the folds of his robe, his fingers shook, and he wasn't sure what to do with them as the God leaned in.

Should he close his eyes? Stare into Lei Gong's soul as their lips came together? Scream endlessly and run from the room just to avoid it?

Qian Meng's mind was dizzy with panic and something like anticipation as he decided it was best not to look, letting his eyelids shutter closed… But no kiss came, only the soft exhale of words ghosting his lips.

"Are you ready?"

The dark cultivator's entire body trembled. "As much as I'll ever be."

Two lithe fingers curled around his neck, brushing against the tense muscles there. "Then relax. It'll be quick, I promise."

Before he could spit a weak rebuttal, he felt a plush warmth against his mouth, and then, for the first time in his long life, his mind went blank. Positively, unequivocally, and blessedly—blank. At the same time, the man's qi rushed into him through the contact, brightening his dark soul. For a moment, the dark cultivator was frozen to the spot as he blinked his eyes open… Only to find Lei Gong staring back at him, crimson eyes heavy-lidded.

The trembling in Qian Meng's limbs stopped, and it felt like they were suspended in time. Floating in a space only the two of them could sense as a steady warmth filled every weeping part of him. It made Qian Meng's heart go soft for a moment, revealing every crack it had behind the armor, bearing it for this man alone to witness.

Usually, he was afraid of vulnerability because he knew the damaging consequences of giving your heart to the wrong people. But right now, Qian Meng's muddled, melting brain forced it upon Lei Gong as he fell forward, lips parting as he slanted his head to the left. The hands he'd let hang limply by his side came up, taking fistfuls of the God's perfect tunic.

Lei Gong's lips moved against Qian Meng's fluidly—like they were made to connect just like this. The God's free hand came up to press against the small of the dark cultivator's back, and Qian Meng, the Immortal of Death, felt his toes curl and his stomach clench. He got a whiff of something sulfurous, and that scent anchored him back to reality, and with it came the clarity to know what he'd just done.

With a grunt, his hands spasmed open, and then he was shoving Lei Gong away with violent force. The God stumbled back a step, looking dazed with flushed cheeks, as the dark cultivator wheeled back toward the demon. He knew he'd find it smirking, but Qian Meng was surprised to see just how much demonic power writhed above the thing's open palm. As if whatever he'd felt just now was so potent it gave the demon twice the boon it had demanded. Shame drowned whatever warmth he'd grasped and the ball of energy swelled in real time, pulsing a sickly purple. He still felt unsteady on his feet as he wiped one hand down the front of his face, trying to stop himself from blushing.

It didn't quite work.

"Thank you, Immortal of Death," the creature purred, cat-like eyes lifting on the edges. "Your emotions are just as deliciously complicated as I thought they'd be, and so potent too."

The dark cultivator made a strangled sound in the back of his throat, and when Lei Gong snapped out of his stupor, stepping forward to comfort him, Qian Meng shook him off. Disbelief at his own behavior roared through him to mingle with the guilt. It was supposed to be quick, unceremonious… So why had he pulled the man closer?

His breathing quickened as a cool sweat pooled at the base of his spine. Panic was his friend, a companion he'd hated yet nurtured for his entire life. This feeling was familiar, comfortable in its foulness. Qian Meng grasped onto it with everything he had as he whirled toward the door, shying away from the God's searching fingers and gaze.

"Collect the documents," he choked out.

Then he was gone.

***

The dark cultivator didn't know why, but there was something about sitting at the highest point in a city and overlooking the view below that settled his wicked thoughts. The cool night air calmed him in a way nothing else could, and so it was exactly what he did now. In the center of Smotia sat a shrine with four levels built from red iron and copper aged green by time. As it was a sacred place, several hundred blood talismans flickered in the wind, shining a deadly crimson on gold. Anyone who visited would surely stare up at it in awe, for even a Conventional could feel the thrumming magic they gave off. To him, it was an assault of dark power slithering around his mind, looking for a way in.

Qian Meng did his best to ignore it, leaping up to touch down on the topmost layer of tiles. He held onto the spire in the center, hanging off to the side as his dark hair whipped past his face. The scent of salt from the nearby ocean was overwhelming up here, and Qian Meng took a deep, steady breath of it, eyelids fluttering closed. It was the perfect place to center his qi, but it refused to quiet. Writhing through his stomach with violence that differed from his usual flavor. It crawled up his throat and sunk its claws between his ribs, refusing to be silenced. The dark cultivator rubbed one hand across his sternum with a grimace.

He'd left the demon's shop hours ago, stalking into the nearby forest to slay any ghouls and creatures who had the unfortunate fate of stepping into his path. If one looked closely, one could see the layers of blood and grime staining his ebony robes and matting his hair. Yet still, he thought about that kiss. Felt it ghosting his lips and spreading too much warmth through his entire body.

"Why did you do that, huh?" He cursed at himself, eyes snapping open to stare into the thinning crowd below.

Lanterns flickered to life as the sun sank beyond the horizon, reminding him he ought to return to Lao Su's home before she told Lei Gong anything unsavory about him. Not that the woman knew very many details about his personal life, but Qian Meng could distinctly recall the few embarrassing times he'd gotten roaringly drunk in front of her and said things he shouldn't have. With a sigh, the dark cultivator ran his hand down the front of his face for the thousandth time, smearing the gore across his scarred skin.

He didn't want to return to Lei Gong's side just yet. The embarrassment of their situation was too much. If he saw the man's ethereal face right now, especially if he was smiling, it would elicit an immediate blush. Because he had to admit he enjoyed their shared kiss—ached to feel it again with a fierceness that terrified him… And few things terrified the Immortal of Death. At the same time, Qian Meng was not a coward, and he prided himself on that fact if nothing else.

"Damn, damn, damn…" He muttered, letting go of the spire.

His feet slid down the sloping tiles, and Qian Meng steadied his body, leaping from one layer to the next with practiced ease. A temple caretaker who was sweeping the balcony floor on level two screeched as he flew past, tossing her broom into the air. The dark cultivator grinned at her as he fell, skipping to the cobble street and reveling in the wide berth the crowd gave him. It might've been from the smell of his robes or his menacing aura, but Qian Meng was thankful either way.

He strode through the familiar streets. Over bridges with water and carp rushing beneath them, past closing shops and restaurants bustling with drinking patrons—the sharp scent of wine on the breeze. The bustle of the city diminished the further into the residential area he walked until it was quiet as a grave. Light stretched across the ground from warmly lit windows, and he could hear the laughter of families seeping beneath the doors. When he stopped before Lao Su's home, Lei Gong's qi signature assaulted his senses, twirling around his body.

He hated he liked it.

Equal parts embarrassment and longing battled beneath his ribcage as he took a wavering step back, thinking he shouldn't have come here after all—but then the door swung open, revealing Lei Gong. The man had changed again. Out of the dark robes that didn't suit him and into a soft cream set that brought out the striking crimson glow of his gaze. The God's lips parted as he took a step closer. His searching look felt loaded, scraping along Qian Meng's skin. He tore his eyes away, fists clenched at his sides.

"What are you doing standing out here in the cold? Come inside."

The dark cultivator licked his lips. "I—"

Lei Gong was suddenly in front of him, brushing his matted hair from his face and hovering too close. "Why are you so dirty? Come, come. I'll draw you a bath. Then we can finally look over the information we paid for."

In a daze, the dark cultivator let himself be led into the house, feet stumbling over themselves. Lao Su was sitting at the low table in the center of the main room, a tea set in front of her beside a loaded plate of honey cakes. She sent him a soft smile as the two immortals passed into the spare bedroom, the one he used when he visited. A basin sat inside, along with one sleeping mat and a small chest in the corner he knew held extra knit blankets. It was so familiar, yet seeing Lei Gong bustling around as if he'd been here thousands of times before threw him for a loop.

Why was the man acting so… Normal?

Qian Meng couldn't even begin to do so, let alone with any sort of believability.

"Where were you today?"

"Uh, I, uh killed… Monsters, no ghouls, and then…"

The words tumbled out painfully, and the dark cultivator trailed off with a wince. Not once in his long life had he been rendered so utterly speechless. His ears burned even as Lei Gong let go of his wrist and stepped up to the basin, slapping two talismans to the side. One to fill the tub, and the other to warm the water. The God glanced at him over his shoulder, brows raised.

"So, you cleared the surrounding area of vengeful spirits? How benevolent of you."

Qian Meng flushed further at the teasing compliment. The urge to deny that it had anything to do with benevolence rose swift and sure, but he curbed the desire and kept silent. Every time Lei Gong taunted him like this, he knew it was to garner a snapped reaction. But the dark cultivator couldn't bring himself to do so because he knew he'd say something else embarrassing should he try. The God straightened to his full height, waving one hand toward the steaming water with a flourish.

"There you go. There's a new set of robes on the bedroll. Clean up and come out when you're ready."

Without another word, Lei Gong calmly walked past Qian Meng and shut the door behind him. As soon as he was out of sight, the God slumped against it and covered his flaming face with both hands, fingers shaking. Lao Su said nothing, only eyed him as she sipped her tea. His legs felt weak and beckoned him to slide to the floor, but Lei Gong refused to let it happen. He was stronger than this, and he knew his Zhiyin needed him to act as he always did. To ignore the earth-shattering kiss they'd shared earlier. Qian Meng wasn't ready for intimacy, he didn't even remember him.

Thus, he would continue to pretend it'd never happened.

With a nod to solidify his convictions, the God forced himself to stand and move toward Lao Su. The woman watched him pour a cup of tea and stare into it for far too long before she spoke, brows raised.

"What in the world happened between you two in a day to warrant this atmosphere?"

Lei Gong's shoulders curled inward as he placed a hand over his eyes. "Nothing, don't worry about it."

Lao Su clicked her tongue, and then he felt a tug on his ear that had him yelping and rearing away, shooting the woman a shocked look. She only grinned, revealing a few missing teeth that didn't make her appearance any less warm. If he had a grandmother, the God supposed this is what she would look like. Plus, the soft, comforting aura the woman put off coaxed him to answer honestly despite his reluctance. It was no wonder Qian Meng held a soft spot for her.

"You cannot hide from me," she told him. "Tell me before he returns and perhaps I may help you with the problem rather than tease the two of you mercilessly."

Lei Gong glanced between the bedroom door and her expectant expression before sighing in defeat. "We came here for information only one demon in the world possesses, and the price he demanded was steep… But we paid it."

"And? What was this price?"

The God wrung his hands where they rested in his lap, trying to keep his voice from wavering. "We, uh, were forced to share a kiss."

Lao Su had been taking a drink of tea that she almost spat out across the table as her eyes widened to a comical degree. With a cough, she sputtered, "A-a kiss?! With Nan Shen?"

"Yes…" Lei Gong admitted with a grimace.

The older woman shook her head in wonder as she set down her cup. "Wow. I never thought we'd see the day that he found his cultivation part—"

At the mention of something so intimate said so loudly, Lei Gong couldn't help but lean forward and slap a hand over her mouth. His entire body buzzed with anxiety as he looked from the door to the woman several times over.

"Don't say it so loud!" He hissed before pulling away.

Lao Su blinked several times. "Why not? Does he not know?"

"Of course not, and he can't!"

"Why not?" She scoffed, throwing her hands up. "He's a man desperate for love, you must know this."

The words sent a pang through Lei Gong's chest, but he could only nod in agreement. They were irrefutable. "Which is exactly why he can't know yet. He's like a deer in the woods. Approach him too quickly and he will flee, never to be seen again."

Lao Su sighed. "You may be right. So, what? You'll ignore the problem while hoping it fades?"

That was his exact plan, but it sounded so flimsy coming from her lips that he flushed, glancing away. "Well, yes."

She sighed again as if exasperated. "Good God, you're both hopeless."

Lei Gong didn't contradict her because she was absolutely right. If the thirteen hundred years they've been separated were any sign, he'd say a lesser man would have lost hope by now… Or perhaps a smarter one. He wasn't sure which. The God opened his mouth to change the subject when the bedroom door opened, saving him from the awkward conversation.

Qian Meng moved cautiously toward them wearing Lei Gong's darkest set of robes. They were a deep amber edged with blood-red thread and woven with the motif of thorny vines. He didn't wear them often as they were a gift, and they were perfect for his brooding Zhiyin. They brought out the soft glow his eyes shone within certain lights, drawing the God forward until he snapped back again with a startled cough. The dark cultivator sat down across from Lei Gong, his body impossibly stiff.

Lao Su rolled her eyes at how obvious the two of them were being. If she didn't give them a gentle push, they'd hover around each other endlessly until the universe broke apart, taking the two stubborn immortals with it. With an exaggerated stretch of her old bones and a groan, she stood.

"I will retire for the evening. You may eat as much from the kitchen as you wish, Nan Shen. Don't leave too early in the morning and I'll make you breakfast."

Qian Meng, who wasn't ready to be alone with Lei Gong, sent her a pleading look that she ignored. He could only watch the elder hobble toward her bedroom door and shut it gently behind her. Silence deafened the room upon her exit, and the dark cultivator glanced toward the man across from him, brows furrowing. Again, Lei Gong appeared unbothered. Smiling as he always did. The sight soured Qian Meng's mood further, and while he tried to keep it off his face as he poured himself a cup of tea, the God noticed.

"Just forget about it," Lei Gong said to comfort him.

However, it was the wrong thing to utter.

Qian Meng stiffened, pausing mid-pour. "Forget about it? As if it meant nothing?"

The God flinched. "I never said it meant nothing, I just want you to know that you don't have to worry about—"

He cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Nevermind. Show me the scrolls, and then we'll get some sleep."

Both men's cheeks were flaming as Lei Gong did what he was told, pulling the papers from his sleeve.