For the first time in a long while, Jiehong was finally able to sleep peacefully. For once, he didn’t remember waking in the middle of the night, and only limited portions of his dream remained with him. He had always found it strange how realistic the dreams seemed. It was almost as if he had lived through them. They were sharp and sometimes haunting. But not last night. 

As he blinked sleepily up at the ceiling of the rundown temple, he managed to bring a small smile to his face. The feeling of warm fur brushing against his side was enough to remind him that, at least for the moment, he was not alone. Jinzha lay peacefully next to the God, noting with crimson eyes the tangled weeds and forget-me-nots blooming in the other's hair. She frowned, not liking the implications such flowers could and would bring to the other. She couldn’t tell what he was trying to remember.  She did, after all, wish nothing but happiness for the God she had come to call her own. 

Jiehong let out a sigh. He brought a calloused hand to rest across his face and massaged the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb before he allowed himself to sit up. The sheet fell from his shoulders and revealed a pale, yet toned chest. It was too hot and stifling in this place for him wear much clothing while he rested. And wearing little clothing had never bothered him anyway. 

Suddenly, a flash of purple seemed to fall as the sun hit his face, beaming in from a nearby crack in the wall to the left of him, forcing him to close his eyes as a roughened and blurred shape almost revealed itself. It put the God on edge, not that he understood why. As he moved to rise from the lowered mat on the floor, he found himself slightly dizzy and reaching with a hand to balance on something before he fell. He was not close enough to anything. 

Fortunately for him, Jinzha was quick to move. In a flash of black and red, she supported the God from behind, her weight helping to keep his knees from buckling underneath him. Unfortunately, this meant the God would simply fall forward to his knees, as the sharp pain lancing through his skull was enough to bring anyone to their knees. But before the disgraced God could land on the dusty temple floor, he was instead wrapped in strong and willing arms. The coolness of a palm against his lower back made him look up, prepared to fight if needed. But before he could act on his initial instinct, his eyes widened as they recognised the man standing ever so close to him. 

From this close he could see the smoothness of the man’s pale skin. The grey, almost stormy eyes blinked down at the God. The hand on Jiehong’s lower back was gentle, but held more strength than the God would have expected from the other. He shuddered slightly as a puff of air hit his face, startling him into a reminder as to the position he was currently in. His emerald eyes widened as he pulled back swiftly. A red flush appeared across his cheeks as roses began to rapidly bloom, replacing the forget-me-nots that were there this morning. 

“I-I’m sorry…” They both spoke at the same time, forcing Jiehong to once again make eye contact with the other. He did so awkwardly. 

Zhi Yu stood in his regular attire: black simple robes and hair pulled back into a high ponytail. He cleared his throat, his eyes glancing briefly at the God’s chest before he turned away to give the other some privacy.

“I didn't mean to startle his Highness, nor did I mean to intrude. I had assumed you would be awake.” He spoke softly, carrying a softer edge in his voice that he reserved especially for the God. Not that the other knew this. 

“It is truly no bother; you’ve seen me in worse states,” Jiehong teased, before he frowned. An image of blood and the desperate face of a young man flashed before his eyes. He groaned, the memory coming alongside a lightning strike of pain. It was not unlike his dreams. He blinked unsteadily through the pain until his vision had returned enough to retrieve his robes from a nearby table.

The demon did not mean to look while Jiehong dressed; he truly didn’t. However, when he heard the strangled groan which tore from His Highness's throat he couldn't help but turn. Zhi Yu’s eyes widened as they honed in on the way Jiehong’s arms moved. The grace and strength, the flex of tendons and the rippling of muscle visible beneath the skin–all of this put the young Demon King into a trance, one in which he was unable to look away. 

Jiehong turned back once he’d finished dressing. He cleared his throat to break the other out of the reverie he appeared to be stuck in. A small smile teased at Jiehong’s lips as he moved forward. He placed a palm softly against the other's lower back and with the slightest pressure led him to sit at the table, with a small “Thank you,” falling from his lips as he moved to the kitchen to make some tea for the two. 

Zhi Yu followed silently, unable to not listen to his God. He sat gracefully, black robes parting around his knees as he crossed his legs beneath him. “You do not need to thank this one,” he muttered softly, glancing at where Jiehong was moving around in the kitchen. He truly meant this. He felt if anything that he owed the other a great deal; stopping the man from falling was the least he could do. The very least. 

Jiehong chuckled, the words resonating deeply somehow. A thoughtful look passed across the God’s face, before he minutely shook his head. He moved to sit next to the other, pouring the tea before the other man could think to do so himself. “Honestly Zhi Ji, I must admit, you do show up at the most … interesting times.” He passed a cup to the younger man, green eyes shining into grey as he continued. “I cannot say I am not thankful. I have experienced one too many falls in past times.”

“I shall always support His Highness when I can.” Came the earnest yet demure reply. 

Jiehong flushed to his ears, head bowing as he busied himself with taking a sip of the tea he had just poured himself. Zhi Yu also took a small sip of his tea as well, noting the flushed colour on the other’s cheeks. 

“Though I must say,” Zhi Yu added, “I do prefer meeting you under less… clumsy circumstances.” 

Jiehong laughed, feeling a little shy. Seeing that smile, the teasing edge shining alongside the glint in those slate grey eyes. Seeing pale slender hands cradling the small cup ever so carefully. Seeing the way the man was ever so comfortable in his presence made him question something. He hadn’t meant to ask, but it seemed he was unable to resist. 

“Do I know you?”

A frown appeared on Jiehong’s brow as he watched the Demon’s face drop to a look of neutrality. It seemed almost as if the other was distancing himself. Whatever the reason, Jiehong decided that he didn’t like it. “You just…seem so familiar,” he prodded, hoping to discern something about this man who inexplicably felt like home.

“Your Highness, I-” Zhi Yu’s words were cut off by a shrill voice shouting across the expanse of Jiehong’s domain. 

“Jiehong!” The voice was soft and yet rough, full of contradictions, much like the person it belonged to. It was immediately recognized. 

Jiehong jumped to his feet. His eyes widened with shock as he glanced at the closed door to the temple, his thoughts were running amok. Why was the Empress here? Why now? Something inside of him was twisting and pulling– an instinct and a concern for what the Empress might do if she were to become aware of the other man sitting in the temple. The only thing the God was sure of was his need to keep the other man safe. And to do so quickly. 

Panic was evident within the God’s voice as he spoke. “Stay here, do not make a sound. I shall be right back. Please Zhi Ji.” He did not note the way the other bowed his head in a silent promise before he moved quickly to the door of the temple. After opening and shutting it with the force brought on by his anxiety, Jiehong was gone in a swish of pink and white. Now alone in the temple, Zhi Yu’s eyes narrowed in to an angry glare. In this tense moment of time, both men wished for the safety of the other and both men would do anything it took to try and achieve such.