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"You don’t need that thing," Shen Jiu says dismissively, kicking at Yue Qingyuan’s cock as he kneels. Yue Qingyuan thrills at the pain; he’s careful not to flinch. "You can’t even use it."
"Yes, Xiao-Jiu," Yue Qingyuan agrees.
Shen Jiu sneers down at him over his fan. He’s beautiful. "You’d let me take it, wouldn’t you? Cut it right off you?"
"Of course, Xiao-Jiu," Yue Qingyuan breathes, suddenly wanting this more than life itself. Not that he wants life itself very much at all. He shoves down the fantasies of being put down like a rabid dog. Now is not the time.
He wants this. He wants Xiao-Jiu to shape his body to his will. He’s so excited for the sharp pain to overwhelm the usual aches that his useless, soft cock attempts to twitch.
Shen Jiu looks at him in disgust, the fan slipping down a little in his surprise. Yue Qingyuan drinks in the look on his face.
"You actually want that," Shen Jiu says in the tone of I have stepped in dog poop. Still, he doesn’t step away, doesn’t turn his back on his failure of a Qi-ge.
Yue Qingyuan waits. He does not plead. He wants what Xiao-Jiu wants; that is the whole point.
"Draw Xuan Su," Shen Jiu says finally. "I wish to see you brought low by your own sword."
Yue Qingyuan’s eyes widen. Is he being given permission to die? Did Shen Jiu find out the connection? The yearning on his face must be visible even to Shen Jiu.
"You didn’t think I’d get my own hands dirty, did you?" Shen Jiu laughs coldly. "Draw Xuan Su."
He must know. Desperate relief surges through Yue Qingyuan’s body: relief that he doesn’t have to explain anything himself, relief that he can serve Xiao-Jiu in this way, relief at the thought of ending it all. He’s wished for this, stared at the sheathed sword in the privacy of his rooms, but never dared to so much as touch it without reason. This—doing what Xiao-Jiu wants—is the best reason possible.
Yue Qingyuan reaches toward the pile of his clothes and draws Xuan Su. As it slides from its sheath, power flares around them, Xuan Su responding to Yue Qingyuan’s excitement. Yue Qingyuan feels faint at the drain on his life force.
"Good," Shen Jiu says condescendingly, robes whipping around him in the whirlwind of power. Shen Jiu himself stands firm. Yue Qingyuan looks at him and feels that he could compose a thousand poems on the subject of Xiao-Jiu’s beauty at the end of his own life.
Shen Jiu spares a sharp, scornful glance for Yue Qingyuan’s cock. Yue Qingyuan understands: it does not deserve Xiao-Jiu’s attention, like him, but that scornful look is a deathbed mercy.
"Now," Shen Jiu commands.
Yue Qingyuan slices down. Sharp pain erupts from his groin. He moans in ecstasy.
"That’s a lot of blood," Shen Jiu remarks. He steps back slightly, avoiding the slowly spreading pool. "Disgusting."
"Won’t you stay?" Yue Qingyuan rasps, staring up at Xiao-Jiu. Xuan Su remains drawn. Soon, the end will come.
"No," Shen Jiu says cruelly, and turns to leave.
Yue Qingyuan nods in understanding. After all, Shen Jiu’s cruelty is one of the things he likes most about him. "Thank you," he whispers.
Shen Jiu shows no sign of hearing. The door opens and closes.
Yue Qingyuan collapses, and the world goes black.
He wakes slowly. His entire body aches, concentrated in his groin. He can’t feel Xuan Su at all.
Whack. Whack. A fan descends on his head. "How dare you!" Shen Jiu’s furious voice screams at him. More quietly, Yue Qingyuan hears Mu Qingfang’s protests.
Yue Qingyuan blinks his eyes open. "Xiao-Jiu?" he asks, confused. Isn’t he supposed to be dead? Xiao-Jiu should be far from him, doing whatever he wants without the burden of his useless Qi-ge. Baffled, he continues, "I thought you let me kill myself?"
"NO!" Shen Jiu roars, climbing onto the bed to strangle Yue Qingyuan with his bare hands. He gets two blissful seconds before he’s bodily pulled away by Mu Qingfang. As he’s dragged from the room, Shen Jiu yells, "You are never allowed to die! Never, do you hear me?"
The door closes. Mu Qingfang turns on Yue Qingyuan with a familiar disappointed expression. "Now, let’s start with a discussion on informed consent and communication…"
"Where’s Xuan Su?" Yue Qingyuan interrupts.
"Shattered. It’s a miracle you’re alive. It’s a miracle I arrived in time."
"Xiao-Jiu—"
"Is furious with you, but did not want you dead. He figured out that Xuan Su was connected to your life force after I managed to revive you." Mu Qingfang pinches the bridge of his nose. "You will barely retain your immortality. You cannot serve as Sect Leader in your condition."
"But," Yue Qingyuan tries, "my responsibilities?"
"Will be taken over by Shen-shixiong, our new Sect Leader."
Yue Qingyuan’s chest fills with pride and shameful relief, and he nods as well as he can from bed. "I will help him with what I can."
"Which is nothing," Mu Qingfang says sternly, "until I can trust you to leave this room. You are on suicide watch."
"Oh, you don’t need to worry about that," Yue Qingyuan says absently, thinking of all the paperwork he needs to get done to transfer things smoothly. "Xiao-Jiu said no."
Mu Qingfang sinks into a chair and puts his head in his hands.