Fu Jing walked through the palace, his face sour, his eyes downcast. When he entered the main hall, he couldn’t bear to look at the demon.

He felt incredibly awkward at the prospect of what was about to happen—but he also knew he had no other choice. As much as it irked him.

He stood by the door, clenching and unclenching his fingers several times, his gaze firmly trained on the ground.

“So, what now?”

Xuan Qi sat casually on the throne, book in hand, and waved him over. “C’mere.”

Setting the book aside, he picked up the dagger he’d already prepared and held it out. “You wanna do it? Might make you feel better.”

Fu Jing accepted the dagger. “Oh, so now you’re being considerate?”

Xuan Qi shrugged. “Never too late for that.”

He extended his wrist, but Fu Jing hesitated, fingers tightening around the hilt.

“What’s wrong?” Xuan Qi asked.

“Can we… do this somewhere a bit more private?”

Xuan Qi raised his eyebrows but didn’t object. “Sure. Where to?”

“...The bedroom.”

As ironic as it was, in all his time here, the bedroom had become the only place that felt remotely like a sanctuary.

In the bedroom, Xuan Qi sat on the edge of the bed, presenting his wrist once more. He was holding out his left arm, so Fu Jing grabbed his right and, without hesitation, drove the dagger down.

Xuan Qi grinned. Fu Jing’s intention was all too clear. “Could’ve been a bluff, y’know? What if my left arm is the dominant one?”

“It’s not.” Fu Jing said, dragging the dagger across Xuan Qi’s skin. Hot, thick crimson gushed from his arm as if it were a well of blood, but the demon didn’t even flinch.

Fu Jing continued, “You always cut your left arm open.”

A glint of amusement flickered in Xuan Qi’s eyes. “How very demonic of you.”

Fu Jing shot him an icy glare.

“Told you, humans are the most wicked of creatures,” Xuan Qi said.

Fu Jing ignored the remark and instead yanked on Xuan Qi’s arm. “Get off the bed.”

Xuan Qi frowned, slightly puzzled.

“You’re sullying the sheets,” Fu Jing explained.

The blood had already left a single drop, slowly seeping into the white fabric like spilled ink.

Xuan Qi blew a sigh through his nose, but did as requested, stepping off the bed and raising his arm to Fu Jing’s mouth. “Go on, then.”

Fu Jing squeezed the dagger in his clammy hands, the sheer dread of the impending agony locking his arms in a paralysing grip. “Do you… do you have a cup?”

Xuan Qi glanced at the moon outside. There wasn’t much time left. “Bit late for that. I’ll give you a cup next time.”

Fu Jing nodded almost imperceptibly, then took Xuan Qi’s arm in both hands. He knew his life depended on it, yet he could only watch as the blood flowed out. 

His breath shuddered, and tears welled up in his eyes.

“No,” he whispered, shaking his head. “I can’t. I can’t do it.”

“What do you mean ‘no’? You have to,” Xuan Qi replied sharply, his face severe.

Seeing Fu Jing this petrified, Xuan Qi sighed anew. Then, without warning, he pushed Fu Jing against the wall next to the bed.

He lifted his wrist to his own mouth before bracing one arm against the wall and grabbing Fu Jing’s chin with the other. He tilted Fu Jing’s head up and firmly pressed their lips together, forcing the blood down his throat once again.

Fu Jing’s eyes widened, but he didn’t resist. Surrendering to his fate, he closed his eyes, only reluctantly swallowing the blood. After three gulps, he slapped the demon’s shoulder to indicate he’d had enough.

Xuan Qi pulled away.

Tears and blood streaked Fu Jing’s face. His lips trembled. “I hate you…”

“I didn’t force you to eat that berry.”

Fu Jing lowered his gaze. Moments later, the searing pain shot through his body. A sharp gasp tore from his throat as his entire body tensed violently, his muscles locking up as if bound by an unseen force.

He grasped Xuan Qi’s firm arms, his fingertips digging into the demon’s skin. A tremor ran through him, his body quaking under the sheer intensity of the pain.

His knees buckled beneath him, and he would’ve crumpled to the floor if not for the pair of strong arms that wrapped around his waist and lifted him up. Fu Jing instinctively clung to the demon, his limbs coiling around Xuan Qi like a frightened child grasping onto a parent.

His entire body stiffened in agony, a deep groan escaping his throat.

“If it hurts too much, just bite me,” Xuan Qi offered.

Fu Jing didn’t need to be told twice. His teeth sunk deep into the demon’s neck, his nails digging into his skin.

The harder the cramps hit, the fiercer his bite became. Even after he’d broken skin and blood filled his mouth, he didn’t let up. Since he’d already ingested the demon’s blood, a few drops more wouldn’t make a difference.

Outside, the wind chimes sang softly on Xuan Qi’s balcony, a cruel contrast to Fu Jing’s pained whimpers.

Wave after wave of excruciating convulsions tore through his body, and only when it felt as if his innards had been thoroughly charred did his limbs slacken.

Once Fu Jing had stopped moving, Xuan Qi carried him to bed.

Fu Jing didn’t utter a single word. Completely drained of energy, he simply closed his eyes.

Was this really going to be the rest of his life?

Xuan Qi pulled the blanket over him.

“Good night, human.”