翀

| 𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 | 𝟐𝟎 | 𝐇𝐄/𝐇𝐈𝐌 no longer writing here more active on wattpad

[yzverse]

❝OH DEAR, A CUSTOMER!❞

YUZHONG: 20. He/him. Scorpio. Asian. Husband of Anubis. Hobbyist Yandere Writer. Aroace. 18+ content. My stories are mostly tagged as Dead Dove Do Not Eat; for most of them contains dark and graphic content. I do not condone any of the actions depicted in my books as they are gross and should not be romanticized in any way.

JJK Treat | KNY snacks | AO3 | Watt | Yuzhong’s library | Instagram

@yzverse 2026. Do not plagiarize, copy, or translate any of my works.

[yzverse]

— .⋆♱ ON A LEASH

Sypnosis: In which, the prodigy emperor ironically found himself unable to conquer the heart of the person that he loves.

Content: ( Qin Shi Huang x Reader ) Angst, Complex Relationships, Profanities, Matured/Sexual Themes, Eventual Smut, Gore, Death, Obsessive Behavior, Canon Divergence, Violence.

There’s a billion people on this planet that Yin Zheng could bother, but for some reason, he chose you. 

The idea of Yin Zheng conquering every kingdom beneath heaven while still finding  time to send you letters heavy with longing will forever remain a foreign concept to you.

Conquest makes sense in the language of history after all, but devotion does not. 

So, it really is strange. Alien, even. 

You can’t help but sigh at the thought: he is a man who has bent the warring states to his will, who has leveled walls and reformed laws.

Yet he somehow can’t manage to restrain the urgent need to know what you ate that day, what kind of clothes you wore, whether the moonlight reached your balcony, or whether the wind chilled your shoulders. 

It’s maddening, really. 

One could almost laugh at the juxtaposition, except that you also feel the sting of being simultaneously worshipped and suffocated.

Because god, his affection is so suffocating: he writes letters so frequently that your own hand aches just thinking of answering them—specifically, letters that will fold into themselves with frustration when you fail to respond immediately.

Yes, it’s that bad to the point that you almost wished that the next letter would never come. 

You knew that it’s a terrible wish—yet, the thought persists with the stubbornness of a bruise you keep pressing to see if it still hurts.

Because god forbid you dare to want even a single moment of time for yourself.

You let out another breath of exhaustion as the sun drapes the hall in molten gold, painting the polished surfaces with a radiant sheen as your hands hovered over the lacquered trays before you.

Pearlescent grains of rice glistened like morning dew, each tiny pearl steaming warmly.

Beside it, emerald ribbons of bok choy shimmered, shining with a coat of sesame oil, while slender slices of blanched and lightly pickled lotus root, crunch like autumn leaves between your teeth while braised meats glistened under a sheen of ginger-scallion sauce.

A goblet of jade-colored tea exhales a gentle bitterness into the room, curling around the incense smoke that drifts from the open veranda.

All of those delicious foods were one of the perks of… having Yin Zheng enamoured with you.

It’s the little things that makes him bearable, at least.

You lifted a chopstick, hesitating as the savory aroma teases your appetite. The first bite is indulgent—a delicate explosion of sweet and umami.

Just as you pierce a tender slice of pork, a rush of footsteps cracks the serenity. 

“Greetings m-my liege, forgive me for disrupting your uhm.. feast.” A shaky voice from behind the doors uttered loudly, followed by a knock.

'Oh no, god—don’t tell me it’s another letter again. It’s either that or some stupid court members are fighting again for no reason.' You thought in despair, already feeling a headache settle within your skull.

“...Come in.”

Your eye gave a faint twitch of irritation as your fingers tightened around the chopsticks ever so slightly as the door slid open, revealing a servant whose thin amber eyes were filled with panic, obsidian curly hair wet from the humid air and sweat—while he clutched a letter in his chest.

…And you felt your mood instantly sour the moment you saw the seal.

Fuck. It’s definitely Yin Zheng and his yapping again, isn’t it?

“My l-liege! You have received another letter… from king Yin Zheng himself!” the servant exclaims, bowing so low that the hem of his robes grazes the polished floor.

Of course, it’s from him. Who else, but him? You almost rolled your eyes at the dramatic declaration.

You huffed as you set down your chopsticks with deliberate slowness, speaking slowly to hide the annoyance hiding in your mellifluous voice. “…Another?”

The servant nods, flushed from the sudden dash. “…Yes, my liege. The seal is fresh.”

“Give it to me then,”

You waved him away with two tired fingers, already rubbing at your temple as the servant placed the silk-wrapped scroll in your hands.

The wax is still warm beneath your fingers. So… this could only mean that he probably wrote it just hours ago.

Ugh.

You broke the seal, and god, did the first sentence sparked a sense of indignation within your chest.

You are cruel.

The letter accused without preamble, prompting your eyebrows to twitch down into a furrow.

I write to you beneath the frosting air and bloodshed, and still you do not answer. Are my victories so small to you? Is my devotion so easily ignored?

What the hell is he babbling about now? Your lips twitched into a dry, incredulous laugh.

I conquered Han last week, and I thought of you. The nights are unbearable without your lovely words. Do you know how cruel your silence is? I feel like my soul is ripping apart when I don’t receive any messages from you. I’ve sent you three letters, yet you did not reply—am I really that unimportant to you? You ignored me— me, your king, [Name]. How could you be so cruel to do that?

“What the fuck…” you whispered, tone steeped in disbelief. “He conquers a kingdom and expects a love letter in return?”

What a joke. Your grip cinched around the parchment, then slackened as you released it to not tear it apart by mistake.

If this was the first time you’ve received such letters from him—you would feel a faint stir of guilt in your heart and a twinge of culpability.

Yet you have grown accustomed to his theatrics by now to even feel a sliver of effects from his antics.

He invariably resorted to this childish behavior when you don’t reply to his messages after all.

You leaned back against the cushions, weariness settling into your bones as your lips drew into a tight line, null irises still fixed on the letter.

You noticed that the brushwork grew sharper and more agitated the further down the silk your eyes traveled, as if his hand had pressed harder with every line.

I eat alone. I sleep surrounded by men who would slit my throat for a title, and yet it is your absence that unsettles me most. Last night, I had a dream about you; you were standing behind my throne, but your exquisite eyes, oh those eyes that I adore, those eyes are blank, so hollow and bitter it can be compared to a mosquito repellent—a herbal fumigation!

And perhaps that dream is telling me that I was nothing but a mere mosquito ringing and annoying you. The way you looked at me in that dream feels as if you are measuring whether I am still worth the trouble of breathing.

If I die on campaign, will you finally write to me? Or will your cold heart remain stagnant?

‘Did he just compare me to a smoke?’ you wondered, clearly unimpressed, your mouth falling into a flat line as you registered all of those words.

Gods above, he was so needy. 

No, needy can’t even cover that sheer act of emotional impecuniosity he’s performing.

“…Needy bastard,” you murmured, rubbing your temples as though you could physically press the oppressive weight from your skull.

You glance at the abandoned pork, appetite thoroughly ruined. You allowed the silence to stretch before your voice lifts to break the silence.

“You.” You called out, ”Are you still lurking behind my spine?”

The servant stiffens as if struck by lightning. He had, indeed, been standing far too straight for far too long, eyes fixed somewhere above your head, as if stillness might render him invisible.

“Y-yes— I mean— my liege,” he blurted, dropping into another deep bow.

Your head pivoted slowly towards the servant. “Stay. I’m writing a reply.”

A flicker of relief crossed his features, swiftly eclipsed by his unwavering sense of duty. 

He straightened further, his posture becoming ramrod stiff. “At once, my liege.”

A sharp grimace of discomfort contorted your features, clearly visible this time at the words. The gilded cage of titles and honorifics you never felt like you deserved have always felt offending to you for some reasons.

You don’t really appreciate them—but perhaps, that’s just the way you were raised—to reject avarice and be humble.

To accept what you have been given, and not ask for anything more—and more importantly, never covet what isn’t rightfully yours. Because greediness will only serve as the catalyst for your downfall. 

A weary sigh escaped you as you rose, the fine silk of your robes rustling softly with your ascent from the plush cushions. The room felt too stiflingly warm now, the ambience thick, but perhaps it was just your irritation crawling under your skin.

“Stop calling me that...” you scolded, voice tinged with dreariness as you strode towards the desk.  “I’m not your liege. I’m just a servant, like you are.”

He stiffened, his shoulders tensing as his amber irises dilated in surprise—as if he didn’t expect those words to come out from your mouth.

You cannot blame him for that reaction though; you were always with Yin Zheng—so, it’s only natural to assume that you were as pompous as the aforementioned man.

“B-but my liege—”

“I told you already; I have no royal blood. I polish floors just like you do. I am Yin Zheng’s servant, nothing more, nothing less.” You explained, exasperation lacing your voice.

“We’re in the same status.” You craned your neck towards him, mouth curled into a soft frown.

“Forgive me, I—I cannot.” The man stammered, avoiding eye contact with you.

You paused, nimble fingers poised above the inkstone. “Cannot?”

The servant’s throat worked to swallow a knot of trepidation. “If His Majesty were to hear that I addressed you improperly… he would have my head.”

Oh, so that is what it’s about then.

A humorless laugh slipped from your lips. “Oh, he’d do worse than that.”

You dipped the brush into the ink, watching the obsidian pigment unfurl like a blossoming bruise in water.

“If you don’t lick my boots, right now—he’ll kill you for disrespecting me. If you do, he’ll kill you for breathing too close. So go on.” Your chin tilted, eyes half-lidded with irritation as you lightly elevated your ankle.

“Kneel and lick my boots.” 

The servant froze, his eyes crinkling; fear and disgust warring within those amber eyes. His stomach churned, bile creeping up his throat, the thought of pressing his mouth to leather fouled by dust and sweat making his tongue feel swollen, useless, obscene.

‘Nauseating to think of it, isn’t it?’ You mentally taunted him in your head as you watched him unravel. You glanced back at him with narrowed eyes “So?” you prompted mildly.

“Go on. Do it.” Your foot nudged forward again, toe stopping inches from where he stood.

The very color seemed to leach from his face, leaving it a pallid mask as his knees trembled, and for a horrifying second, he actually began to lower himself, his movements jerky and terrified.

‘He actually considers doing that?’ Your brows knit in genuine bewilderment, a faint crease forming between them.

The notion unsettled you—not because of pity, but because of the underlying meaning beneath it.

Does... he have no sense of self preservation?

“Tch.”  For the briefest instant, something like guilt pricked at your chest—an unwelcome, fleeting sensation—for having egged him this far, for cornering him until degradation seemed like a viable option.

But it vanished just as quickly, smothered by your disdain; spineless and overly docile people annoy you after all. They grate on your nerves just as much Yin Zheng’s clinginess does.

“Don’t,” you bit out, your foot withdrew, not in mercy, but in repudiation. “Blind acquiescence leads to damnation. Remember that, if your little brain can remember anything at all.”

He halted mid-motion, caught between standing and kneeling. Bewilderment flickered nakedly across his features, fear momentarily eclipsed by confusion, his brows drawing together as his gaze darted uncertainly toward you.

“Y-Yes… my—” He bit the word back, lips pressing together, not wanting to anger you further.

You turned away from him dismissively. “Just stand there and breathe quietly. That’s all I require of you.”

You sat at the desk, unrolling some fresh scroll of paper. Then, you began writing;

My dearest Yin Zheng, 

Your letters arrive faster than I can finish my food. I am not cold—I am tired. Yes, you are conquering states but I have to manage the aftermath of men who think your shadow gives them authority. I received your last three letters but I did not answer because if I did, you would write six more. Control yourself. A king who begs is an ugly thing. You want to unify all the warring kingdoms but can’t even gather your own thoughts? Reflect on yourself, Yin Zheng.

But… I am glad you are alive. Eat properly. Sleep when you can. I will write again when there is something worth saying. I’d rather have you tell me when you are coming back rather than your endless complains.

You signed your name simply, without any flourish.  When the ink dried, you rolled the paper, sealed it with wax, and pressed your thumb into it without ceremony.

“Take it,” you huffed, breath roughened with impatience, arm extending behind you without the courtesy of a glance.

The servant stepped forward, hands shaking as he received it like a holy relic. “Y-Yes. I will deliver it at once.”

“See that it reaches him quickly,” you muttered. The servant bowed and turn his back on you, feet tangling as panic overtook protocol.

Only once he reached the doorway did he pivot and flee. The door closed behind him with a dull, final thud, sealing the room in silence once more

“Hahh... damn you, Yin Zheng.”

You muttered as your thoughts drifted—uninvited, relentless—back to the beginning.

You still remembered the first time you met Yin Zheng. He couldn’t have been more than ten; you had been Xiaowen’s servant then, still young, yet tucked neatly into the background, trained to keep your gaze lowered while your mind absorbed everything it wasn’t meant to.

When King Zhaoxiang died, the court cracked open like a wood getting cut down by a sharp axe. When Xiaowen followed his father into the earth soon after, the air grew heavy, stagnant, fouled with the sense that something had gone terribly wrong.

A curse, some murmured. You believed it, in your own way.

And then Yin Zheng was summoned back to Qin, dragged out of Zhao like a long-forgotten debt finally called in.

He was thin and watchful back then, already dangerous in the way neglected children often are. He stood apart from the others in Zhao, a hostage prince dressed well enough to mock him, poorly enough to remind him he was disposable.

And the blindfold he was wearing only spurred rumors to grow until everyone in Qin concluded that he was a cursed prince; because according to the rumors that had bloomed in the people of Zhao, Yin Zheng was cursed.

What kind of prince suffers from such a unique yet harmful disease? they would ask—but instead, all you could wonder was what kind of child survives it?

Violence lives everywhere after all. And with those cursed eyes, he would suffer all of those damages too. So... how?

It never failed to amaze you.

He was a freak—and by that, you mean that the oddity that clings to him is in a good sense.

You were assigned to him like an afterthought; someone had to make sure the prince ate, slept, survived the journey. They needed someone neutral and someone expendable after all. But god, you never expected him to become the Crowned Prince after your previous master had died.

You expected him to die. But he didn’t and was actually set to be the first to get the throne. 

Yin Zheng was pretty ambitious too—and you thought, at the time, that being ambitious was just another symptom of his unique disease.

Because at night, on the road back to Qin, while the other attendants slept with their mouths open and their hands curled protectively around their sleeves, he would randomly sit upright and murmur to the dark about how he would be the greatest king and fulfill his promise to... what was her name again?

Chun Yan or something..? you can’t really remember the full details.

Nonetheless, you found it amusing at first cause of how random he was. Though, you  did notice that Yin Zheng certainly didn’t dream small; which was a stark contrast from Xiaowen who was quite... a pathetic kid who wallows in self pity and doubt.

He did not speak of surviving court politics or reclaiming a title; he spoke of erasure, of grinding borders into dust, and of ending the noise of rival kings forever so that history itself would be forced to remember a single name.

Yin Zheng.

You thought it was a childish grandiosity because a boy who had been humiliated too long probably cannot help a world that could not hurt him again.

But turns out, you’ve underestimated him.

You watched him become a king the way one watches a storm form: slowly, inevitably, with the sick knowledge that nothing nearby would remain untouched.

But what makes it worse was that you had wanted a quiet ending, of just retiring and living in a small town away from politics or anything.

But you helped raise a man who could not bear silence unless you were there to share it.

And maybe, that was your biggest mistake.

Because now you’re inevitably stuck with him.

©yzverse 2026 | syntaxvoid ; More chapters & faster updates in my Ao3 & Wattpad.

A/n: The timeline is set in the 222 BCE and before Yin Zheng defeats Chiyou—and way before Ragnarok.

[yzverse]

my first post in a while here phew, probably my first fic here after 2 years haha

[yzverse]

— .⋆♱ ON A LEASH

Sypnosis: In which, the prodigy emperor ironically found himself unable to conquer the heart of the person that he loves.

Content: ( Qin Shi Huang x Reader ) Angst, Complex Relationships, Profanities, Matured/Sexual Themes, Eventual Smut, Gore, Death, Obsessive Behavior, Canon Divergence, Violence.

There’s a billion people on this planet that Yin Zheng could bother, but for some reason, he chose you. 

The idea of Yin Zheng conquering every kingdom beneath heaven while still finding  time to send you letters heavy with longing will forever remain a foreign concept to you.

Conquest makes sense in the language of history after all, but devotion does not. 

So, it really is strange. Alien, even. 

You can’t help but sigh at the thought: he is a man who has bent the warring states to his will, who has leveled walls and reformed laws.

Yet he somehow can’t manage to restrain the urgent need to know what you ate that day, what kind of clothes you wore, whether the moonlight reached your balcony, or whether the wind chilled your shoulders. 

It’s maddening, really. 

One could almost laugh at the juxtaposition, except that you also feel the sting of being simultaneously worshipped and suffocated.

Because god, his affection is so suffocating: he writes letters so frequently that your own hand aches just thinking of answering them—specifically, letters that will fold into themselves with frustration when you fail to respond immediately.

Yes, it’s that bad to the point that you almost wished that the next letter would never come. 

You knew that it’s a terrible wish—yet, the thought persists with the stubbornness of a bruise you keep pressing to see if it still hurts.

Because god forbid you dare to want even a single moment of time for yourself.

You let out another breath of exhaustion as the sun drapes the hall in molten gold, painting the polished surfaces with a radiant sheen as your hands hovered over the lacquered trays before you.

Pearlescent grains of rice glistened like morning dew, each tiny pearl steaming warmly.

Beside it, emerald ribbons of bok choy shimmered, shining with a coat of sesame oil, while slender slices of blanched and lightly pickled lotus root, crunch like autumn leaves between your teeth while braised meats glistened under a sheen of ginger-scallion sauce.

A goblet of jade-colored tea exhales a gentle bitterness into the room, curling around the incense smoke that drifts from the open veranda.

All of those delicious foods were one of the perks of… having Yin Zheng enamoured with you.

It’s the little things that makes him bearable, at least.

You lifted a chopstick, hesitating as the savory aroma teases your appetite. The first bite is indulgent—a delicate explosion of sweet and umami.

Just as you pierce a tender slice of pork, a rush of footsteps cracks the serenity. 

“Greetings m-my liege, forgive me for disrupting your uhm.. feast.” A shaky voice from behind the doors uttered loudly, followed by a knock.

'Oh no, god—don’t tell me it’s another letter again. It’s either that or some stupid court members are fighting again for no reason.' You thought in despair, already feeling a headache settle within your skull.

“...Come in.”

Your eye gave a faint twitch of irritation as your fingers tightened around the chopsticks ever so slightly as the door slid open, revealing a servant whose thin amber eyes were filled with panic, obsidian curly hair wet from the humid air and sweat—while he clutched a letter in his chest.

…And you felt your mood instantly sour the moment you saw the seal.

Fuck. It’s definitely Yin Zheng and his yapping again, isn’t it?

“My l-liege! You have received another letter… from king Yin Zheng himself!” the servant exclaims, bowing so low that the hem of his robes grazes the polished floor.

Of course, it’s from him. Who else, but him? You almost rolled your eyes at the dramatic declaration.

You huffed as you set down your chopsticks with deliberate slowness, speaking slowly to hide the annoyance hiding in your mellifluous voice. “…Another?”

The servant nods, flushed from the sudden dash. “…Yes, my liege. The seal is fresh.”

“Give it to me then,”

You waved him away with two tired fingers, already rubbing at your temple as the servant placed the silk-wrapped scroll in your hands.

The wax is still warm beneath your fingers. So… this could only mean that he probably wrote it just hours ago.

Ugh.

You broke the seal, and god, did the first sentence sparked a sense of indignation within your chest.

You are cruel.

The letter accused without preamble, prompting your eyebrows to twitch down into a furrow.

I write to you beneath the frosting air and bloodshed, and still you do not answer. Are my victories so small to you? Is my devotion so easily ignored?

What the hell is he babbling about now? Your lips twitched into a dry, incredulous laugh.

I conquered Han last week, and I thought of you. The nights are unbearable without your lovely words. Do you know how cruel your silence is? I feel like my soul is ripping apart when I don’t receive any messages from you. I’ve sent you three letters, yet you did not reply—am I really that unimportant to you? You ignored me— me, your king, [Name]. How could you be so cruel to do that?

“What the fuck…” you whispered, tone steeped in disbelief. “He conquers a kingdom and expects a love letter in return?”

What a joke. Your grip cinched around the parchment, then slackened as you released it to not tear it apart by mistake.

If this was the first time you’ve received such letters from him—you would feel a faint stir of guilt in your heart and a twinge of culpability.

Yet you have grown accustomed to his theatrics by now to even feel a sliver of effects from his antics.

He invariably resorted to this childish behavior when you don’t reply to his messages after all.

You leaned back against the cushions, weariness settling into your bones as your lips drew into a tight line, null irises still fixed on the letter.

You noticed that the brushwork grew sharper and more agitated the further down the silk your eyes traveled, as if his hand had pressed harder with every line.

I eat alone. I sleep surrounded by men who would slit my throat for a title, and yet it is your absence that unsettles me most. Last night, I had a dream about you; you were standing behind my throne, but your exquisite eyes, oh those eyes that I adore, those eyes are blank, so hollow and bitter it can be compared to a mosquito repellent—a herbal fumigation!

And perhaps that dream is telling me that I was nothing but a mere mosquito ringing and annoying you. The way you looked at me in that dream feels as if you are measuring whether I am still worth the trouble of breathing.

If I die on campaign, will you finally write to me? Or will your cold heart remain stagnant?

‘Did he just compare me to a smoke?’ you wondered, clearly unimpressed, your mouth falling into a flat line as you registered all of those words.

Gods above, he was so needy. 

No, needy can’t even cover that sheer act of emotional impecuniosity he’s performing.

“…Needy bastard,” you murmured, rubbing your temples as though you could physically press the oppressive weight from your skull.

You glance at the abandoned pork, appetite thoroughly ruined. You allowed the silence to stretch before your voice lifts to break the silence.

“You.” You called out, ”Are you still lurking behind my spine?”

The servant stiffens as if struck by lightning. He had, indeed, been standing far too straight for far too long, eyes fixed somewhere above your head, as if stillness might render him invisible.

“Y-yes— I mean— my liege,” he blurted, dropping into another deep bow.

Your head pivoted slowly towards the servant. “Stay. I’m writing a reply.”

A flicker of relief crossed his features, swiftly eclipsed by his unwavering sense of duty. 

He straightened further, his posture becoming ramrod stiff. “At once, my liege.”

A sharp grimace of discomfort contorted your features, clearly visible this time at the words. The gilded cage of titles and honorifics you never felt like you deserved have always felt offending to you for some reasons.

You don’t really appreciate them—but perhaps, that’s just the way you were raised—to reject avarice and be humble.

To accept what you have been given, and not ask for anything more—and more importantly, never covet what isn’t rightfully yours. Because greediness will only serve as the catalyst for your downfall. 

A weary sigh escaped you as you rose, the fine silk of your robes rustling softly with your ascent from the plush cushions. The room felt too stiflingly warm now, the ambience thick, but perhaps it was just your irritation crawling under your skin.

“Stop calling me that...” you scolded, voice tinged with dreariness as you strode towards the desk.  “I’m not your liege. I’m just a servant, like you are.”

He stiffened, his shoulders tensing as his amber irises dilated in surprise—as if he didn’t expect those words to come out from your mouth.

You cannot blame him for that reaction though; you were always with Yin Zheng—so, it’s only natural to assume that you were as pompous as the aforementioned man.

“B-but my liege—”

“I told you already; I have no royal blood. I polish floors just like you do. I am Yin Zheng’s servant, nothing more, nothing less.” You explained, exasperation lacing your voice.

“We’re in the same status.” You craned your neck towards him, mouth curled into a soft frown.

“Forgive me, I—I cannot.” The man stammered, avoiding eye contact with you.

You paused, nimble fingers poised above the inkstone. “Cannot?”

The servant’s throat worked to swallow a knot of trepidation. “If His Majesty were to hear that I addressed you improperly… he would have my head.”

Oh, so that is what it’s about then.

A humorless laugh slipped from your lips. “Oh, he’d do worse than that.”

You dipped the brush into the ink, watching the obsidian pigment unfurl like a blossoming bruise in water.

“If you don’t lick my boots, right now—he’ll kill you for disrespecting me. If you do, he’ll kill you for breathing too close. So go on.” Your chin tilted, eyes half-lidded with irritation as you lightly elevated your ankle.

“Kneel and lick my boots.” 

The servant froze, his eyes crinkling; fear and disgust warring within those amber eyes. His stomach churned, bile creeping up his throat, the thought of pressing his mouth to leather fouled by dust and sweat making his tongue feel swollen, useless, obscene.

‘Nauseating to think of it, isn’t it?’ You mentally taunted him in your head as you watched him unravel. You glanced back at him with narrowed eyes “So?” you prompted mildly.

“Go on. Do it.” Your foot nudged forward again, toe stopping inches from where he stood.

The very color seemed to leach from his face, leaving it a pallid mask as his knees trembled, and for a horrifying second, he actually began to lower himself, his movements jerky and terrified.

‘He actually considers doing that?’ Your brows knit in genuine bewilderment, a faint crease forming between them.

The notion unsettled you—not because of pity, but because of the underlying meaning beneath it.

Does... he have no sense of self preservation?

“Tch.”  For the briefest instant, something like guilt pricked at your chest—an unwelcome, fleeting sensation—for having egged him this far, for cornering him until degradation seemed like a viable option.

But it vanished just as quickly, smothered by your disdain; spineless and overly docile people annoy you after all. They grate on your nerves just as much Yin Zheng’s clinginess does.

“Don’t,” you bit out, your foot withdrew, not in mercy, but in repudiation. “Blind acquiescence leads to damnation. Remember that, if your little brain can remember anything at all.”

He halted mid-motion, caught between standing and kneeling. Bewilderment flickered nakedly across his features, fear momentarily eclipsed by confusion, his brows drawing together as his gaze darted uncertainly toward you.

“Y-Yes… my—” He bit the word back, lips pressing together, not wanting to anger you further.

You turned away from him dismissively. “Just stand there and breathe quietly. That’s all I require of you.”

You sat at the desk, unrolling some fresh scroll of paper. Then, you began writing;

My dearest Yin Zheng, 

Your letters arrive faster than I can finish my food. I am not cold—I am tired. Yes, you are conquering states but I have to manage the aftermath of men who think your shadow gives them authority. I received your last three letters but I did not answer because if I did, you would write six more. Control yourself. A king who begs is an ugly thing. You want to unify all the warring kingdoms but can’t even gather your own thoughts? Reflect on yourself, Yin Zheng.

But… I am glad you are alive. Eat properly. Sleep when you can. I will write again when there is something worth saying. I’d rather have you tell me when you are coming back rather than your endless complains.

You signed your name simply, without any flourish.  When the ink dried, you rolled the paper, sealed it with wax, and pressed your thumb into it without ceremony.

“Take it,” you huffed, breath roughened with impatience, arm extending behind you without the courtesy of a glance.

The servant stepped forward, hands shaking as he received it like a holy relic. “Y-Yes. I will deliver it at once.”

“See that it reaches him quickly,” you muttered. The servant bowed and turn his back on you, feet tangling as panic overtook protocol.

Only once he reached the doorway did he pivot and flee. The door closed behind him with a dull, final thud, sealing the room in silence once more

“Hahh... damn you, Yin Zheng.”

You muttered as your thoughts drifted—uninvited, relentless—back to the beginning.

You still remembered the first time you met Yin Zheng. He couldn’t have been more than ten; you had been Xiaowen’s servant then, still young, yet tucked neatly into the background, trained to keep your gaze lowered while your mind absorbed everything it wasn’t meant to.

When King Zhaoxiang died, the court cracked open like a wood getting cut down by a sharp axe. When Xiaowen followed his father into the earth soon after, the air grew heavy, stagnant, fouled with the sense that something had gone terribly wrong.

A curse, some murmured. You believed it, in your own way.

And then Yin Zheng was summoned back to Qin, dragged out of Zhao like a long-forgotten debt finally called in.

He was thin and watchful back then, already dangerous in the way neglected children often are. He stood apart from the others in Zhao, a hostage prince dressed well enough to mock him, poorly enough to remind him he was disposable.

And the blindfold he was wearing only spurred rumors to grow until everyone in Qin concluded that he was a cursed prince; because according to the rumors that had bloomed in the people of Zhao, Yin Zheng was cursed.

What kind of prince suffers from such a unique yet harmful disease? they would ask—but instead, all you could wonder was what kind of child survives it?

Violence lives everywhere after all. And with those cursed eyes, he would suffer all of those damages too. So... how?

It never failed to amaze you.

He was a freak—and by that, you mean that the oddity that clings to him is in a good sense.

You were assigned to him like an afterthought; someone had to make sure the prince ate, slept, survived the journey. They needed someone neutral and someone expendable after all. But god, you never expected him to become the Crowned Prince after your previous master had died.

You expected him to die. But he didn’t and was actually set to be the first to get the throne. 

Yin Zheng was pretty ambitious too—and you thought, at the time, that being ambitious was just another symptom of his unique disease.

Because at night, on the road back to Qin, while the other attendants slept with their mouths open and their hands curled protectively around their sleeves, he would randomly sit upright and murmur to the dark about how he would be the greatest king and fulfill his promise to... what was her name again?

Chun Yan or something..? you can’t really remember the full details.

Nonetheless, you found it amusing at first cause of how random he was. Though, you  did notice that Yin Zheng certainly didn’t dream small; which was a stark contrast from Xiaowen who was quite... a pathetic kid who wallows in self pity and doubt.

He did not speak of surviving court politics or reclaiming a title; he spoke of erasure, of grinding borders into dust, and of ending the noise of rival kings forever so that history itself would be forced to remember a single name.

Yin Zheng.

You thought it was a childish grandiosity because a boy who had been humiliated too long probably cannot help a world that could not hurt him again.

But turns out, you’ve underestimated him.

You watched him become a king the way one watches a storm form: slowly, inevitably, with the sick knowledge that nothing nearby would remain untouched.

But what makes it worse was that you had wanted a quiet ending, of just retiring and living in a small town away from politics or anything.

But you helped raise a man who could not bear silence unless you were there to share it.

And maybe, that was your biggest mistake.

Because now you’re inevitably stuck with him.

A/n: The timeline is set in the 222 BCE and before Yin Zheng defeats Chiyou—and way before Ragnarok.

©yzverse 2026 | syntaxvoid ; More chapters & faster updates in my Ao3 & Wattpad. Do join my discord server!

[yzverse]

Hey twin, how is life :3

uni is killing me twin... i feel like i'm gonna die... i miss you so much, wish we can talk more 🫂

[yzverse]

Just a Kiss is very well written and hits all the right spots. The pacing is wonderful, a lil kinky, a lil loving, a little sassy, and all around well done. I’d read a multi chapter fic of it on here or AO3 (I saw you use Wattpad 💔 I haven’t opened Wattpad in over 10 years, but god I want more of your fics!)

thankyou! haha unfortunately, just a kiss is only a oneshot—and my fics r actually more yandere-centric so...

[fruitcoral]

Hello everyone,

Sorry that this isn't an update.

But, I am a small author on Quotev that goes by the username INTERTSELLAER. People call me Peachy.

Anyways, I am speaking out regarding the unlawful and borderline illegal actions that the devs of Quotev have been taking towards Kikyo and many other authors.

First, lets start off with Kikyo. It's been known that the devs have an issue with Kikyo and its due to somebody who is affiliated with them having a problem with her. For practically years now, they have been targeting Kikyo and making sure that she was silenced. They deleted books from peoples librarys, removed her from the index, and have been claiming her stories violate community guidelines. They dont. They are so fast with targeting kikyo and anyone affiliated with her but dont target AI authors such as Mien.

Second of all, many authors that have mentioned and brought awareness of the situation Kikyo is facing, have been banned. Not only deactivated, but have had their IP banned. At first, it may not seem like this, but a fairly new author to quotev published a fic inspired by love island. Again, they were a new author but unfortunately they have gotten banned after dedicating a chapter to the devs unfair actions towards Kikyo. A friend of mine also had gotten banned but I will not mention her name due to her request. So if you know an author who has spoken about this situation on quotev, I recommend commenting on their books or activity to make them aware that they might be the devs next target. This could be considered speculation, but the motive behind their actions is kind of applied when you take into This could be considered speculation, but the motive behind their actions is as clear as day when you realize that every author, new or old, have been targeted by the devs the moment they speak out or are in association with Kikyo.

I dont want to cause fear, but unfortunately it is something that is happening.

There is a possibility that I as well, will be banned due to bringing awareness and if it happens, just know that what they are doing is illegal. Not only did they get rid of the activity feed the moment people started bringing awareness about the genocide in Palestine, now they're targeting individuals who are speaking out.

Please be careful everyone. If you're an author, please save all of your fics in another site or in an app like google docs. Heck, even Microsoft Word.

Quotev Devs are egotistical assholes who have been riding their high and abusing their power. Again, what they are doing isn't right.

Spread awareness. Speak out. But be careful. Please. I can't stress this enough.

Small edit:

When you search up Kikyo's account, you are given the following 'reason' behind the ban, as seen in the image below. This isnt true. My friend that also got banned, received almost the same reason as to why she was banned when you search up her account. Again, this is entirely false. They are trying to come up with a 'valid' reason when in reality, all they're doing is lying and borderline slandering Kikyo.

[rosemarysfemhusband]

“I can fix him!” “I can accept him as he is!” I can homoerotically explore the strange texture of his insides and hope he doesn’t consume me

[owwllly]

same fate

[yzverse]

Gojo definitely spreads Geto's cheeks

Nah that twink ain’t topping anyone, Suguru spreads Satoru’s cheeks

[yzverse]

HEY QUEEN, ITS BEEN A WHILE 🥹

Sorry, I've been too lazy to actually send messages to ANYONE lately 😭🙏 I hope you're doing safe sa bagyo and unaffected ka kasi girl jusko, my cousin's roof literally flew off huhu. Stay safe, beh

-(I forgot my emojis LMFAO)

AERIZE WAG KA MAG ALALA, ALAM KO TYPINGS MO HAHAHHAHAHA tutal apat lang naman mga pinoy na nagswswnd sakin ng tagalog, (you, ❤️‍🔥anon, tas 🤍anon, and 🦬 anon) HAHAHHAHA KABISADO KO NA TALAGAA. Di na rin me nag oonline masyado e, tinatamad na kasi me and masyadong busy sa college and mas naggstuhan kona mag drawing kesa mag sulat or mag basa HAHAHHAHHAQ anywayss, iI hope you're doing safe din, grabe talaga yung sa Kristine lalo na sa bikol😭😭 tas ngayon may nika nanaman:(( stay safee, Sana ligtas yung cousin mo gagi,nnakakatakot yun😭😭😭

[yzverse]

Still waiting for reminiscent part 2❤️ i really love how gojo was so obsessive over geto there pls make a part 2🥺

Hey uh, so I'm gonna hold your hand when i say this... I'm not making a part 2

[yzverse]

HEAR ME OUT ON DOLLSMITTEN

Since Geto travelled in an alternate universe where he became a doll and y/n is a doll too, does that mean that THERE IS ALSO A DOLL GETO TOO? i mean, another geto in that universe.

AHHHHH I'M SO EXCITED FOR YOUR NEXT UPDATE ON DOLL SMITTEN, THAT SCENE WHERE SHE HIT HIM WITH A RAKE IS SO FUNNY GIRLLL

-❤️‍🔥

LOLLL, YOU'LL KNOW SOON IF THERE'S ALSO SUGUBOO IN THAT UNIVERSE BAHAHAH BUT IT'S DEFO GONNA BE CHAOTIC KASI YUNG OG SUGURU OBSESSED NA OBSESSED TALAGA E

[yzverse]

Can you pls write kokushibo x child y/n romantic

What the actual fuck is wrong with you, do not ever send something on my inbox like this ever again, I'll block you. Pedophilia is disgusting. Get some help.

[yzverse]

What happened to your jjk x male reader:(

Unpublished it temporarily

[yzverse]

AERAH OMG WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT SA ENDING NG JJK😭 GINAGO SI GOJO GAGO TANGINA TALAGA NI GEGE

-❤️‍🔥

NAIINIS AKOOO LIKE NASAN ANG HUSTISYA, I'M HAPPY CAUSE BUMALIK SI NOBARRA THEN SHE SERVED CUNT PERO YUJG GINAWA NILA KAY SATORU OMG😭😭😭😭 inis na inis ako. SAMANTALANG SI SUKUNA TAS URAUME LOVEY DOVEY DON? kingina talaga ni gege, panigurado self insert nya yung si uraume e💀💀💀 I'M NOT SATISFIED SA ENDING TALAGA, I HATE ITT

[yzverse]

DIDN'T KNEW THAT YOU WRITE FOR GENSHIN TOO

Not really LOL, i just love capitano sm so i wrote a fic abt my rotting corpse bby

[yzverse]

Doll smitten update when?

Idk, I ain't giving any dates because i mightt not follow it😭 it already has 6 chapters on wp tho, i think Tumblr only has 2