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Running On Fumes But Those Were Gone Long Ago As Well [Moshang]

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WC: 6.6k

Summary: Life was good for Shang Qinghua. His life was relatively in order, he hadn’t formed too many enemies, and he knew his exact role. Oh, and he was a god. That helped. In which Shang Qinghua has access to the System and relatively godlike powers through it; HOWEVER, it comes at the cost of getting crippling migraines. One thing leads to another and he's left overworked, in pain, and oblivious to the care Mobei Jun wants to provide.

Life was good for Shang Qinghua. His life was relatively in order, he hadn’t formed too many enemies, and he knew his exact role. Oh, and he was a god. That helped.

He never quite knew what to call his ability. It started purely by accident; just a few yap sessions by himself, reminiscing his past life, and the System suddenly asked for permission to “modify the world accordingly.” He figured it was just a plot hole, but the next day he found that instant noodles just existed, and it was a new cuisine that quickly grew in popularity in the An Ding Peak. Although he didn’t reside there anymore, he still had easy access, and the System helped with any extra shipments needed.

He took time to experiment with what he could do, and he came to a few realizations:

He couldn’t change the past

He couldn’t change anyone’s decisions or priorities (at least not directly)

Whatever change in the world gave him a proportional headache

He wasn’t sure if it was exactly proportional, maybe the System just wanted to be a bitch sometimes, but he found the pain levels to at least generally trend with whatever he asked;

To know a piece of knowledge he shouldn’t, 3/10.

To mess with the environment, somewhere around a 5, depending on how long-term the change was supposed to be.

And creations? That must’ve been an 8/10. He almost thought to stop interfering with the world completely when he was practically crippled with pain for two days in a row, but it all seemed worth it after he had his first bowl of instant noodles.

He also found that some decisions came with residual pain, like ripples after a rock was tossed onto a lake, less than the original impact, but still noticeable. He’d be midway through a document before the daggers slowly dipped into his neck and shoulders, easy to brush off at first.

But it got worse, because of course it did. He felt the pain rise, but he only stopped trying to read once he couldn’t bear it anymore. He put down his quill, barely paying mind to properly put it back into place before he clutched his temples and closed his eyes with a quiet whine. It wasn’t inherently a high pain level this time around, but the low light in his room seemed practically torturous.

He contemplated a break, but the only apparent difference would be whether the document was filled out or not. Pained in bed or pained at his desk? He juggled the options before opening his eyes to the too-bright room and shifted through the papers. A deadline, a due date, a- fuck him. Well actually, he’d prefer a fuck or die plot over the papers needing to be completed by that evening. Ideally, he might’ve been able to pass it on to someone else, but it was too short-notice by now.

A dark thought whispered that he didn’t have anyone to ask anyway, but he pushed that as far away as possible. He absolutely had bitches up the wazoo- he swallowed uncomfortably and tried to sit up straight in his chair, but even that made his bones ache. He was so dead, he felt like he was dying, why can’t modern medicine exist??

Wait.

It was either the stupidest request or the smartest one, and he would bet on the latter. He groggily called out, “System?”

A translucent blue screen popped in front of him, but it felt too bright to attempt to read. He felt ever so thankful for the voiced narration, but it came with his ears being grated, the better of two evils, he supposed.

Ah, came to request something again?

“What?”

You only talk to me to use me. o(╥﹏╥)o

Shang Qinghua struggled with the words for a moment before he let out an exasperated sigh, “You know I’ve been busy lately.”

Busy procrastinating? Or with pining after Mobei Jun? (⇎_⇎)

He narrowed his eyes, “You know exactly what I’ve been doing.”

Oh, yeah. Getting off to-

“Aaand anyway! I’ve- yeah, I’ve got an idea. Creation-y time.” He finger drummed his desk before pointing finger guns at the screen, “Ibuprofen. I’m sure you know it.”

There was silence for a few moments before a ding. Since the ding didn’t correlate to anything physically occurring, the system must’ve found a new stim, good for them.

Ibuprofen was a drug widely available during your time, often used in the treatment of pain, fever, or inflammation. (◔̯◔)☝

Shang Qinghua snapped a few times. “Bingo, bullseye, right on the money.” He waited before realizing he never got to his point, “I want some.”

The AI made a few beeps, processing or calculating- Shang Qinghua couldn’t give a shit about the semantics, but he certainly flinched when he heard a loud error sound.

That would require many other adjustments to this world, which would be unsuitable for your stay here.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Many other scientific progressions would need to be advanced to allow the discovery of that drug.

He rubbed his head. “Isn’t this world bullshit anyway? Couldn’t we… I don’t know, make a plant?”

It would take decades to grow, discover, and utilize for medicinal properties. Are you sure you would like to proceed with this rewrite?

He groaned, “No.” He thought for a while before he dryly offered, “You said plant, so could I get weed?”

Is that your request?（￣□￣；）

“You really can’t take a joke, huh.” He sighed, mentally preparing himself for his workload before the System chimed in again.

Shang Qinghua, are you requesting ibuprofen to complete your work?

He hummed passively.

From what you have told me about your past life, caffeine also served as a motivator to finish your duties. Perhaps coffee beans would be a reasonable substitute.

The realization flooded his mind with excitement, “Wait, yeah, that sounds good. Can you do that?”

I’ve been pre-established to control this universe as I see fit. Do you think I can’t modify transportation routes to make it arrive at the An Ding peak? (◔_◔)

“Okay, okay, smartass. Yeah, coffee would be nice.” He was about to make the formal request before cringing, “Actually- I’ve got a shitload of work. Can I…” More pain flooded him, but it didn’t feel like the System’s doing.

I don’t know, can you?

“Shut the fuck up.”

(✿◠‿◠)

It took him a while to come up with the words, “Can I… schedule things?”

I don’t see why not.

He would’ve jumped for joy if he felt more capable of sudden movement. “I’d like to request the transportation of coffee beans to the An Ding peak, but that request shall only go through after sunset.” The formal wording felt much more familiar to him, maybe a sign the paperwork wouldn’t be as bad as he thought.

Request scheduled. (~˘˗˘)~

He figured he would go back to daily life before he mumbled, “Thank you, System.”

You’re welcome, Shang Qinghua.

The ripple migraines were weekly now. They controlled a lot of his routines, but it was manageable. The stress might’ve piled up, but the System and caffeine saved him time and time again. He honestly didn’t like coffee; he hated the bitterness, but he just pretended it was cough medicine that he was required to chug down.

He woke up one particular day with a migraine. He felt the desperate urge to bury himself under his blankets and will it away, but he knew he had to carry forward. He didn’t start his days like this often, but it ruined anything he had in place.

He started keeping more lists, prepping for the worst. And thank God (himself) for that. He barely moved out of bed to grab the nearby scrap of paper:

Demon Court

Ensure proper delivery to my king’s kitchen

Formalize the draft treaty

Dread dripped rhythmically to how his head pounded. He’d rather eat glass than be responsible. If anything, these were only the required things he had to do; he knew the back would read the optional, upcoming items, but he couldn’t make himself glance at that side.

But what doesn’t kill him doesn’t kill him. Time for coffee and a will to live (but the system couldn’t give him antidepressants, so double the coffee would have to do.)

He forced himself to swallow about half of his coffee concoction with a soured face before he asked, “System, how long is it until my king’s meeting?”

The system beeped a few times.

Approximately ten minutes. (x_x)

“Ten?!” He proceeded to chug the rest of his coffee before muttering a string of curses while collecting his items. He might’ve wanted to slam his head against the wall, but he could focus on that later. He only made himself relatively presentable before rushing along his way.

He ended up arriving exactly on time, but it was far too late in his own eyes. He sat in his usual position at the right of Mobei Jun, who stared at the smaller man for a few moments before proceeding to the legislative routine. Shang Qinghua felt his eyes glaze over, but he forced himself to remain present.

He served as a mix of an advisor and scribe; he kept note of what he needed to do and delegate, while acting as a source of knowledge whenever requested. He didn’t feel like he was good at his job, considering how quickly his attention drifted, but he relatively tried his best.

He took role, wrote an outline of topics, (almost fell asleep until Mobei Jun accidentally touched his arm while leaning for a document,) and managed to jot down the basic discussion and negotiations. For half of the scroll, he felt like a toddler struggling to spell, but it would’ve been good enough for the time being.

Mobei Jun didn’t ask for his mental assistance, which he considered to be an absolute blessing. When court was eventually adjourned, he felt a small weight being lifted off his shoulders. It wasn’t the entire day, but it was a start.

He felt exhausted through his core, but he forced his eyes to open wider as he focused on collecting his belongings. He double and triple checked he had everything before a sudden, deep voice startled him, “Is there a reason why my advisor still resides here?”

“Hm?” Shang Qinghua looked at the suddenly empty room to realize that he must’ve spaced out- damn it, so much for looking professional. “Oh! This servant was ensuring everything was in order before he left.”

Mobei Jun stared at him. While Shang Qinghua had a lot of experience deciphering his looks, he still couldn’t read them perfectly. He thought he saw a shred of belief on his face, but as his mind muddled around those icy eyes, he realized his king had been speaking the entire time. He forced his face to remain consistent as he caught onto the end, “-none of my personal matters.”

Shang Qinghua awkwardly laughed before he realized he didn’t know the full conversation, so he switched to a more serious, curt nod. “Of course, my king. This servant will handle it.”

Mobei Jun seemed satisfied with that response as he nodded once then walked away. Shang Qinghua didn’t even realize how tense he was during the exchange until the weariness crept upon him once more. He was sure he had most of his belongings, if not all of them, as he quickly left the courtroom. He made sure to go in the opposite direction of where the people were, the sounds were starting to explode his pain again.

Shang Qinghua wasn’t a fiend to all-nighters. Once PIDW succeeded, he started pulling more of them to keep up with his update schedule and even publish bonuses and extras for his top patrons. But in his past life, the all-nighters were just a part of his sleep schedule. He’d go about his day, and when he started writing, he just did it until he slept. It might not have been the healthiest, but he was hyperfixated enough to keep up the routine.

But at least in his past life, he had energy drinks. Those felt so much easier to drink. In the present day, his mouth only tasted of the bitter coffee he always drank. Slowly but surely, he found more efficient ways to brew it, even asking the system for tips and slight modifications to the world.

Well- “slight” might’ve been an underexaggeration compared to the consequences of his requests. He felt like he was having a migraine or the hangover of one almost every day, and a day he was pain-free just meant he was agonizingly waiting for the warning signs. Granted, he didn’t do much when those signs came, but he was sometimes able to move to a quieter room or take a nap.

The pain throbbed in the back of his head, but he blinked back to his surroundings. Right, a drink. He asked the System a week ago if it was able to create anything similar to caffeine powder, just something pure that could hit his system easier. He got the typical sass, but his request was granted, and he held a reasonably sized bag of white crystalline solid in front of him.

While he was tempted to make a line and snort it, he knew he didn’t understand the dosing and measurements. He could’ve asked the System for help, but he winced at the idea.

Regardless, he settled on adding the powder to the coffee creations. It surprisingly made the coffee somehow taste even worse, but he could push past the disgusting agony in exchange for catching up on his work.

He let out a slow, mostly even breath. His heart was racing, but that was just motivation… right? He swallowed down the nausea and straightened his focus to the papers in front of him. He couldn’t sleep right now. Even if he suddenly grew past his stubbornness, he physically couldn’t rest for a few hours; so while he wasn’t entirely focused on his work, he at least proceeded to move along and complete what he had to.

He was grateful he worked late into the night so no one could hear him break down over the slightest things.

He constantly felt dizzy during slow movements, but it was fine, he could still continue his responsibilities. It didn’t matter if every time he left his room, he dreaded every encounter since it would just expose how much of a fraud he was, it was fine. It didn’t matter how much he took any criticism to heart and all of the times and ways he would slip himself out of a discussion so he could cry by himself, it was fine.

His king had called him to a private meeting. He felt pure anxiety course through his veins the moment it was told to him, but there was no use ruminating further. Maybe Mobei Jun was finally done with him- a sentiment that made his throat tight. He tried to breathe deeply, but he felt himself only closer to tears. It was fine. It was fine, why didn’t his brain just understand that he was fine??

He raised his hand to knock on the door, but he felt paralyzed to move it any closer. Of course he didn’t want to enter without knocking, his king always granted him that level of respect for some odd reason, but the action of starting the encounter just felt sickening as his stomach turned.

He didn’t know how long he had stood there before the door opened in front of him. He was confident he didn’t move his hand, and he flinched at the sudden movement. (At least his pain was low, it didn’t hurt him much to move his head.) Mobei Jun scanned him, “Qinghua may come in.” He opened the door for Shang Qinghua to enter, but the latter didn’t feel very encouraged. But dreadfully, he knew it must come eventually as he walked into the room.

He stood in the middle before Mobei Jun sat at a desk with a chair across from it. Shang Qinghua hesitated enough that his king interrupted his racing thoughts, “Sit.” Shang Qinghua’s lip trembled, but he willed a small smile onto his face before sitting across from the demon king.

Mobei Jun picked up a nearby scroll and unfurled it onto the desk. Shang Qinghua’s vision blurred instinctively, but after a few sentences, he realized it was a trade agreement he wrote on… he couldn’t remember when. He looked up at Mobei Jun only to find the icy gaze piercing through him, he straightened his posture and spoke, “Y- yes, my king. This was the agreement- the trade agreement- that I wrote between- um-” Oh fuck, fuck, fuck- he could exactly see the weird guy’s face and the way he pronounced arcology, which Shang Qinghua thought was a mispronunciation of archeology for the longest time- He tried to quickly scan the text to figure out the name before Mobei Jun interrupted him, “This advisor never wrote the names.”

Did he say it out loud? He didn’t think so- it was clearly the issue that Mobei Jun was upset about, right? So that must’ve meant he knew that ahead of time. Airplane thickly swallowed and nodded. “Yes, my king. It must’ve slipped this servant’s mind. I’ll have it ready by tomorrow.” He avoided looking at his king for the longest time, instead pretending to read the document he could no longer view due to the tears forming in his eyes. He needed his brain to shut up already. He breathed carefully a few times before looking up at Mobei Jun to see the man intently staring at him. Oh no, “I- I can have it ready today instead.” He felt like a liar, but he would’ve made it work, hell- he probably could’ve asked the System to do it instead; his breath quickened.

“Tomorrow is fine.” Relief washed over him, but not enough to soothe the dull ache in the back of his mind. “But my Qinghua has gotten careless with his work.”

He wasn’t going to cry in front of Mobei Jun, he wouldn’t let himself do that right now. He waited a while before managing, “This servant is very sorry, my king.”

He needs to leave, no- he needed to leave yesterday. He roughly stood up, his vision partially going black as he did so. He urged himself to become steady. “I will draft it now, my king.” He barely waited for his balance to fully return as he rushed back to his room. He didn’t hear Mobei Jun come after him, which made sense; it wasn’t like Shang Qinghua was important, he was just a nobody that could be discarded at any time. He needed to do one thing: write the names of who he was referring to, yet he didn’t do that. The moment he was in his room, he finally let himself full-body sob, shaking and trembling from the shame he had in himself. His face hurt to move after he was done, all he could mutter was the inevitable. “System?”

The way he was able to navigate himself to his quarters and stumble towards an empty bin must’ve been a miracle as his knees buckled and he clutched the bucket for dear life. He felt himself hyperventilating, but the attempts to even his breathing just ended with increasing nausea and the knowledge that he was bound to throw up.

He vaguely tried to distract himself by thinking, but he couldn’t fucking take it anymore. He clutched the bucket in his hands and felt his throat open to make a disgusting sound, but he was unable to make any food rise. A blessing and a curse that he skipped… too many meals lately. His stomach growled at the thought, but he couldn’t bother standing to go get himself a nearby snack.

His head swirled with misdirection as he let himself sit there curled for a moment. It took him a simple moment of reflection on how pathetic he would look to the outside observer for him to let out a small cry. Granted, there were most likely droplets in his eyes from the dry heaving as well, but it was only a starting point to the messy, hot tears that slid down his face.

He couldn’t do this, he didn’t have time for this, but he was ripping apart at the seams. He swallowed down the last bit of nausea before positioning his back against a wall. He’d get up in a minute, he’d really be soon- he should’ve been up a while ago. He fought every urge of self-preservation to get himself to stand up ( too quick too quick too quick) and desperately clutched a counter to support his full weight as his brain overflowed and exploded as a forever continuing loop. He took a shaky breath.

His desk was right over there. It mocked him with how it must’ve been pain-free. Oh, inanimate objects, the ease they have. He blankly stumbled over to his desk before seeing a large note from his past self, “No ink left,” written in a dying trail.

He was going to kill past Shang Qinghua for making him get ink in this state. He tried to mentally map out the pathway across the corridor before he heard a knock on his door. His heart jumped from anxiety before he answered the door.

Mobei Jun stood at the other end, perfectly composed in comparison to Shang Qinghua, who must’ve looked like hell with his messed-up hair and red, puffy eyes. His king barely furrowed his brow, “Is my Qinghua ill?”

“What?”

The demon didn’t respond, and instead put a hand up to his forehead. Shang Qinghua couldn’t hold back the small whimper as he leaned into the source. When he felt it pull away, he caught the stem and held it closer to him. It’s not like the cold made the pain go away, but it certainly made him forget about it. He stood there for an unknown amount of time before he realized what he was doing and quickly pulled away.

The quick motion almost made him cry again, but he tried to hide his wince with a smile (which hurt more as well). He made sure his hands were directly in front of him instead of reaching out for the relief once again. (It took too much restraint not to burrow himself into his king’s chest.) “Doing good, m- my king! I uh- needed more ink. That’s right, ink.”

Mobei Jun didn’t seem to pay him much mind as he held up Shang Qinghua’s arm, examining his wrist and hand. The human’s mind ran a mile a minute, but his mental terrain was riddled with fog and speed bumps that made him blankly stand there until Mobei Jun eventually spoke. “Is Qinghua… not comfortable here?”

“No!” he said a bit too loudly. “Nonono- I’m perfectly comfortable. Everything is great,” his voice cracked but no tears fell. He couldn’t lose another shred of dignity.

“You’re shaking.” Shang Qinghua followed his king’s line of sight to see how his hand trembled.

“Oh,” was all he could manage.

“Any request you make will be completed, your comfort is important.”

Request, request, request, the word echoed tauntingly in his head.

“My king is too kind, it’s-” he swallowed uncomfortably, he was not about to leak everything in that moment, “Nothing. Just a personal matter left unattended.”

Mobei Jun barely frowned, Shang Qinghua could only pick it up from being around him for so long. “If my advisor does not want to be in my presence, this king will make arrangements for all relevant work to be sent to An Ding peak.”

“No no,” his face flushed with how quickly the response came. “This servant likes it here. I’m perfectly satisfied.” He let the silence only float between them for a moment before he tugged his wrist away, “I'd better be going. Work, and forms, and documents-” He didn’t let any time pass before he closed his door and turned the lock. His mind ran- was his king only checking in on him because he wasn’t completing enough work? The upcoming deadlines that didn’t have their preliminary steps verified? He cursed silently to himself before he heard the quiet shuffling from the other side of the door.

His king left.

It shouldn’t have been much of a shock, but he almost expected it to be sooner. He trudged back to his desk and pathetically collapsed into the chair. His voice felt small, “System?”

Yes?

“I know you… can’t change the past, but you can tell me information that…. Might’ve involved the past, right?”

Yes.

The system must’ve been sympathetic to give such short responses during his time of high pain. “That’s great. Is there any chance I have ink in this room? Anything- any color.”

Yes, you have half of a container of black ink in your “dumb shit” drawer. You didn’t like the way the ink ran so you hid it there.

He doubts he’d even be able to remember that in his normal state, but before he could settle on that thought, pain surged his mind again as he outwardly whined. Please- make it stop, it’s too much.

I’m unable to do that.

“Oh- sorry. That um. Wasn’t. To you.” The burst of pain seemed to be ending, or at least merging back into the hell he was going through.

He waited for a response before realizing he wasn’t getting one. It made sense, but he somewhat wanted companionship during a time like this. He felt tragic for that thought coming across his mind- and even more when he supplemented Mobei Jun as the one to help him. His cold arms, hands, everything, the way his deep voice wouldn’t disturb him, the small movements he does without making Shang Qinghua decide even more things.

Fuck, it was just sympathy. He needed to snap out of it. He willed himself to get the shitty ink and make progress, and unfortunately he did just that.

He didn’t know when he had closed his eyes, but he woke up with his back awkwardly aching over his desk. He grabbed his coffee only to realize it was much colder than he remembered it. The sun wasn’t up though, so he didn’t waste too much time. He refreshed himself on the details and groggily returned back to it. He couldn’t disappoint his king, it would all be for nothing if so.

Piercing pain is all that he acknowledged when he woke up one random day. It hurt, it hurt more than he ever could’ve expected. When he could manage more than utter agony, he instinctively called out, “System?”

Good evening, Shang Qinghua.

He somehow forgot sounds existed and he only whined into his pillow. Jesus take the wheel, he would rather be dead than go through all of this. It must’ve been far too long with silence as the System supplemented.

I told you this was a bad idea. (๑•﹏•)

“Shut the…” he couldn’t think anymore, he felt dead. He put proper curtains in front of the windows long ago, never opting for the natural light, but through labored breaths he still felt overstimulated.

He couldn’t put the effort to listen to the System, he picked out words like “scheduling”, “excessive”, and “king”, but it all muddled into a pile. He interrupted, “Do I have to do anything today?”

Nothing has been attributed to your advising responsibilities.

“Simple,” he hissed.

Nothing.

He felt ready to disintegrate into his bedding, or better yet- throw himself into a frozen river and sink to the bottom. “...actually? Nothing to… catch up on either?”

(ಠ_ಠ)

“System.”

There is nothing required f- [modifying expression] Nothing today. Anything else can wait.

He groggily mumbled, praying the system could understand his incoherence, “Anything request-y that’d help my king?”

There was a long pause.

You’re going too far, Shang Qinghua.

His name felt like nails against a chalkboard considering how many times he signed it lately. “If I’m doing nothing today, I might as well be useful.” Knives sunk further into him, but he’d hopefully sleep it off anyway.

Another long pause. He almost called out before he heard the voice again.

I’ve told you before, this route is not advisable.

He was told that before? When?

(╯︵╰,)

He couldn’t decipher what it all meant, even without a migraine it might’ve been difficult. “There’s a shipment today, right?” He waited. “System?”

Yes.

“Can you make sure it’s… all good? Like the weather?”

This route is not advisable.

“I’m aware. Just do it.”

Request accepted. Res-

The System said something but any mental processing was cut off by the groan into his pillow. It’d be fine, he could rest knowing that the order would go well and he could-

There was a knock on the door. Was he hallucinating? He must be.

You are not.

He jumped but nodded, “Thanks.” He almost blinked into sleep before the knock occurred again, more urgent this time. It was probably more work, he either wanted to cry or he already was. He stumbled out of bed, grabbing desperately onto whatever was nearby to keep him standing. It was cold, and it felt good, so he pathetically leaned into it. His eyes remained closed as it was adjacent to a moment of relief for his ever-continuing struggles.

But he knew of his responsibilities- was he going to do work? Nono- the knock on the door. Right. He pulled off of the surface to barely blink at the odd furniture he clung onto. It took him far too long to connect the dots: it was his king, holding him close against his chilled body. His mind distractedly tried to think only to end up with nothing. He stared, mouth slightly open.

It took him another moment to realize that his king was unsheilding an emotion he had never seen in person before- anger, “Why is Qinghua not telling his king what’s wrong?”

He cried, but he would’ve held it back if he had the choice. “‘m sorry. H- hurts.” He put his forehead back onto his king’s chest. Dignity wasn’t even in the back of his mind, he just needed a break. He was running on fumes for so long that he was out of those too.

Mobei Jun seemed to understand well enough and held him close. It was a while before he demanded in a low, deep tone, “Who hurt my Qinghua?”

Shang Qinghua would’ve shook his head, but he settled on, “No one.”

Mobei Jun barely peeled Shang Qinghua off of him to hold his face in his claws and force him to look Mobei Jun in the eyes. Shang Qinghua, still wounded, barely squinted at him. “Tell this king a name.”

Shang Qinghua sniffled. “What will you do?”

“That’s none of Qinghua’s concern. Tell-”

“Shang Qinghua.” Mobei Jun slightly loosened his grip, and Shang Qinghua fully pushed himself back into his king’s chest.

Mobei Jun put a hand into Shang Qinghua’s hair. The human predicted snapping his neck in half or tearing his head off his neck, but all he received was gentle petting of his head. The claws carefully combed through the matted locks, maneuvering around any knots. Silence floated between the two before Mobei Jun suddenly picked up Shang Qinghua, carrying him bridal style.

Shang Qinghua lightly protested, but kept his head close to his king’s chest. He didn’t care much for the bobbing movement up and down, but the general temperature change made him open his eyes again. It didn’t take him much time to recognize he was in his king’s private quarters.

It felt like a dream and nightmare all at once. “M- my king?”

“Qinghua is going to rest.”

As a reflex, “No-”

“This king was not open for negotiations.” The harshness shut Shang Qinghua up, but the demon’s face softened just barely, “My Qinghua needs rest.”

When he spoke, it was quiet enough that any sound would’ve risen over him, “Okay.”

Slowly, he was lowered onto his king’s bed, which felt infinitely more comfortable than all the times he passed out at his desk. He felt ready to fall out of consciousness before he felt Mobei Jun pulling away, which evoked a pathetic sound out of him. He caught the cold wrist and put it against his forehead. He needed this, he needed this every goddamn migraine. His king eventually interrupted the silence, but still kept his voice low, “Qinghua’s head hurts.”

He brokenly whispered a confirmation.

“His king… helps?”

“Mhm, stay.”

Any thoughts of doubt were silenced when Mobei Jun climbed into the bed. Of course the bed was big enough for them and probably more, but he was never used to sharing the sheets. On the other hand, Shang Qinghua never desired a large living space. It was more to maintain, and he tried to quench down the thoughts of loneliness every day, but it felt nice to be held by his king, so much so that he didn’t notice his body shivering.

Mobei Jun tried to move away, but Shang Qinghua held on even more. So instead, the king shuffled around the smaller man tightly wrapped around him, and managed to take off his heavy coat and put it over Shang Qinghua. He typically would’ve never had it in bed in the first place, but that day was the first for a lot of things.

The coat absolutely drowned the human, making him only recognizable through his head poking out. While Mobei Jun adjusted the coat around him, Qinghua slurred a few words before finally going lax.

This was… not exactly what he was expecting. But he wouldn’t leave now.

It took Shang Qinghua a few days to become functional again, and Mobei Jun stayed by his side for most of it. The human hated feeling so needy, but it was a nice change from the way his weeks had been lately.

Amidst the eating, napping, and basic self-care, he worried about how to tell his king of everything that had occurred.

Hey, I’m God! That absolutely didn’t explain anything. His king would probably think it was a joke and punish him for wasting his time.

This servant is a God that can- No, too intimidating, potentially hostile. He didn’t want his king to think he was planning to usurp him.

This humble servant has accidentally- Well it was far from an accident.

Through the System, this servant has-

In the midst of his thinking, Mobei Jun entered the room. Shang Qinghua smiled at him, “My king! This servant is feeling much better, and he thanks you for all of your assistance.”

Mobei Jun stared at him before making his way over and sitting on the edge of the bed. He remained silent, so the human supplemented, “Um- about what was happening. This lowly servant was just getting some headaches. Some pollen must’ve remained in my system somehow- but I’m not entirely sure how it got there in the first place, maybe it was a morning walk one day! I’m sure I told you the time I-”

His king held a hand up, and the rambler silenced himself. His heart pounded until Mobei Jun spoke. “This king… is aware.”

Qinghua rolled for persuasion, “About the pollen?”

“Of other things occurring. Things Qinghua has enjoyed.” His king looked at him without any judgment. “This king does not mind how you obtain things, that's never been of my interest."

“Oh,” was all Shang Qinghua could provide. The racing in his mind seemed to calm down immensely.

“But this king does not care for how his-” He stopped himself and looked away. “Qinghua has been neglecting his personal duties.” His eyes floated back to the smaller man, “His work is satisfactory, and even above that. But Qinghua cannot be doing this to himself.”

Shang Qinghua felt a heavy weight in his chest. “Of course, my king.”

Mobei Jun nodded once. “Qinghua will pause being my advisor.”

“What?! But my king-”

“This king has observed Qinghua’s patterns. More has been going well, and Qinghua has been getting worse.”

Qinghua squirmed and pathetically pleaded, “I’ll control it better. I won’t do it as much. I’ll figure out a routine and limits-”

The demon sharpened his voice, “Qinghua will not be doing it at all.”

Qinghua straightened his back. “Yes, my king.”

Mobei Jun apprehensively continued, “Qinghua does not deserve pain. Nothing should be deemed worth more, not even items related to your duties.”

The human let out a slow breath but nodded. “Yes, my king.”

“And you must inform me when this illness occurs. I will not tolerate dismissal of your suffering.” Shang Qinghua played with the edge of the blanket. Mobei Jun reinforced, “Is that understood?”

“Well uh…” He hesitantly spoke with his hand, moving it miscellaneously into the air, “It’s not an illness.”

Mobei Jun blinked. “It affected you like one.”

“I know! But it’s…” He struggled for the words, but thankfully it wasn’t because of a migraine interrupting him. “Like tripping on your ankle. It hurts for a while, but then you recover. This servant just has a low pain tolerance.”

“Qinghua was often tired and not eating well.”

Well shit, was this a conversation or an open book Mobei Jun was reading?? Shang Qinghua tried to defend himself, “Sometimes the pain hurt too much for me to eat. I would eat when it was better though!”

“And the exhaustion?”

“I wasn’t that tired,” he weakly tried. However, a passively hardened glare made him continue, “I was a little tired. I-” He rubbed his head, memories of his headaches somehow giving him a phantom pain, “It was just catching up to me. Not eating, pain, working. A… bad habit of mine.”

Mobei Jun nodded understandingly. “Regardless, Qinghua will inform me if he obtains any of these symptoms again.”

Shang Qinghua would’ve argued against it, but it was mostly out of instinct rather than rational. He realized that a deep part of him wanted to be cared for, but it felt so damn hard to let it happen, as if it was a confession that he was completely incompetent. He fell on an easy response, “Yes, my king.”

“Mn.”

Shang Qinghua got uncomfortable with the silence rather quickly, “This advisor knows his duties are put to a halt, but…”

“Qinghua may do as he pleases.” He got slightly quieter, “Though this king still wishes to spend time with him.”

“Of course!” Shang Qinghua absolutely said that too loudly, but he bashfully continued, “This servant always enjoys spending time with his king.”

“Then this king will prepare dinner suitable for himself and Qinghua.”

Dinner?! Damn, his sleep schedule must’ve been fucked. He swallowed any apology or negotiation and simply commented, “That sounds enjoyable. This servant appreciates the generosity of his king.”

Mobei Jun grunted an agreement and left the room, closing the door behind him. Just as Qinghua exhaled, the System popped up.

Told you so. ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ

He chuckled and found his lips turning upwards. He oddly missed his buddy, “Yeah yeah. I’m resting now.”

No, about Mobei Jun.

He raised an eyebrow, “What about him?”

(◕‿-)

He scoffed. “You’re somehow more perverted than me.”

Learned from the best! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

“Of course.” He shuffled out of bed, figuring he could at least freshen up before eating.

So when are you going to fuck him.

“SYSTEM!!”

A shipper can dream. （ミ￣ー￣ミ）

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