October, 2020 - continued

"ZéWú-Jūn," Michael mouthed soundlessly. "Li MeiLi." Were these really reincarnations of his former brother-in-law and disciple? It wasn't completely out of the question…. Those two had been reincarnated soulmates last time, too….

Michael jerked and turned away from the new couple. If they didn't have the masks on, they'd definitely be sucking face by now. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable watching people eating each other with their eyes…. It just hurt to see them looking at each other the way he and Ming Lim looked at each other when they were alone in their room. I miss you. 'Out of sight, out of mind' was bullshit when it came to soulmates. 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder', too. When the love you feel is larger than the size of the known universe, how can it get any bigger? Being apart fucking hurt.

He didn't just miss the sex. Okay, he did miss the sex. Touching, tasting. Being one body. Feeling Lim thrusting so deep inside. Oh, fuck! He didn't miss just that, though. Or even just being physically close to the other. He missed the little things, too. Like laughing together when a noodle slurped up and smacked his face. Snarfing from a stupid joke. Sitting on his desk studying while Ming Lim played his violin in the sun room. Watching Ming Lim shudder in horror and distaste when he scarfed down a fluffernutter. Choking down a glass of water when they exceeded their spice limits. Bumping shoulders at sports games when their teams scored a goal. Sparring with their bamboo swords. He missed it all. Come back to me.

He saw the old man still watching his son. You should start looking at wedding dates now. If they are my reincarnated brother and sister-in-law; they didn't even date for a week last time. He wandered over towards the left side of the store where the memorabilia were. And stopped at a TV show poster. He recognized one of the people in it: one of the Chinese born K-pop stars in… Uniq. That was the band. He had a few of their songs downloaded onto his phone. He didn't recognize the other actor.

He did, however, recognize the outfits. Not that they were an exact match to what he remembered them wearing. But a man in blue with a forehead ribbon paired with a man in black and red? If it was merely a coincidence, it was uncanny. Su, the shopkeeper, spoke over his shoulder, "If you liked the show, I have the book. In Chinese, only. They haven't released an official English translation. It's over here…." The older man walked to another aisle and picked up a book from a middle shelf. "MóDào ZǔShī. I bought a lot of copies because the American girls kept asking for it. I guess they didn't realize it hadn't been translated yet. They buy everything else about it, though. I just Tweet a picture of any new merchandise and they flock into the store! I put out a hundred key chains just the other day. All gone." He sounded happy about it. Michael took the book, almost afraid of what he'd read in it.

The first pages were all about Wèi WúXiàn waking up in that hovel in Mò Manor. In Mò Xuányǔ's body? What the fuck is this? Mò Xuányǔ died to bring Wèi WúXiàn back to life, yes. They didn't switch bodies, though….

Michael was all set to curse out the author when he stopped to think. How the fuck did this Mò Xiāng Tóng Xiù person know about Wèi WúXiàn and Lán WàngJī? He distinctly remembered talking to Sheng Lin about the Yílíng Lǎozǔ and the other guy saying all the stories about the Patriarch were lost to time.

Except for the books and scrolls stored in the vaults at the old QishanWen headquarters.

The same books and scrolls that were in the process of being digitized.

The same books that he was reading. Wèi WúXiàn's personal journals. While most of the entries in the journals were dealing with cultivation research, they were interspersed with memories of his interactions with his friends and family.

So somehow this Mò Xiāng Tóng Xiù found a copy of the journals and wrote a novel roughly based on them?

No. It wasn't 'somehow'. It wouldn't have been Chen Song who gave the author access; the no-tongue thing was more than slightly intimidating. So. Was it Sheng Lin or that secretary person? What was her name again? Lan Qing something or other. Qingyang? No. Maybe? Qinyang? Whoever it was, one of them decided it was time for the world to know about the Yílíng Lǎozǔ. Mentally setting aside that headache for later, Michael held up the book, "Shūshu, do you have any others by this author? I'll take them all."

Mr. Su came back with a stack of books in each hand. "These are by Mò Xiāng Tóng Xiù," he said, shaking one hand. "And these are similar," he said, shaking the other. "I'll just ring them up for you?"

"Sure," Michael agreed absentmindedly. He was back to looking at the poster of his previous 'self'. You're both cute, but we were cuter. My Lán Zhàn was so much more handsome than yours….

"Ah, shia!" Michael heard from behind him.

"Shūshu? When did you learn Thai swears?" he wondered, turning around. And saw the reason for the old man's exclamation. Sherrie and Su Taio had removed their masks and were busy exploring each other's tonsils with their tongues.

"Is she at least a good girl?"

"I wouldn't call her a girl if I were you. She's a woman. But, yeah, she's nice. Good person. Smart. She's in the PhD program with me."

"Does she speak Chinese?" the old man asked hopefully.

Michael looked down at the other man. "Is that really your criteria for a daughter-in-law? That she speaks Chinese?"

"No," the older man admitted sadly. "I had other criteria. Like actually being Chinese."

Michael spied an astrological book on a shelf. "Here, Shūshu," he said, handing it over. "You can pick out their wedding date."

Michael had made a noticeable dent in MóDào ZǔShī by the time Sherrie and Su Taio came up for air. It was a good book, if not historically accurate… and more than slightly confusing. Why did she start in the middle of the story? Most authors started at the beginning of the story and marched on towards the ending. This one started when he was twenty-one years old, immediately killed him by having him eaten by fierce corpses or blown up, jumped thirteen years to his resurrection, and then regressed twenty years to when he first met Lán Zhàn. It would make more sense to start with his first meeting the Jiangs or Lán Zhàn. Wouldn't it? There must be a reason to this madness; he had yet to see it.

It was also more than slightly uncomfortable reading his story. Or rather, this version of his story. He wondered if this was how celebrities felt reading an unauthorized biography.

Sherrie looked slightly sheepish at being caught french kissing a guy she didn't know by his father. Su Tiao, on the other hand, had his chin tucked into his neck and his bangs hid his face from view. Michael closed his book, "Well, I'm all set here. Sherrie? We still going for lunch?"

Su Tiao's head snapped up. "You're not done. You still haven't explained what you did to the window."

"It's a non-breaking spell."

"Teach me," Su Tiao urged. Begged.

"Not teaching you. That window? Will never break. Like, in ten billion years when the sun has exploded and the earth is nothing more than dust, that window will still be whole and floating around in space!"

Sherrie looked pensive. "So you just need to add a time limit?"

Michael blinked at his lab partner. "Do you know how to set a time limit on a rune? 'Cause I don't."

Old Mr. Su scratched his head. "Well, I've never seen one that can make glass non-breakable, either. And I've read the books Xiǎo Sheng gave me multiple times."

Michael was so over being surprised at finding other cultivators. At this point, he wouldn't be surprised to find out that the whole of Chinatown was filled with them. "How do you know Sheng Lin?"

"He asked me if my vendors back in China could sell me bamboo swords. How do you know him?"

"He was my house mate for a few years. Chen Song hits me with one of those bamboo swords on a daily basis."

The four of them trooped into the back office. While Su senior and junior poured over the books on how to write talismans looking for a time limit rune, Michael showed Sherrie how to draw the 'no breaking' rune. There wasn't a 'time limit' rune; there was a 'remains in place' one. By adding that drawing to his 'no break' rune, they ensured that the pane would remain unbreakable as long as it remained in its position. As soon as the pane was removed (like when the building was going to be demolished or the windows replaced), the 'no breaking' spell would end.

Sherrie did end up getting authentic Chinese food. For dinner, though, as they worked through the whole afternoon.

She decided that it would be a long time before she asked for it again. Having to rip the legs and heads off of shrimp was not appealing, even though it tasted just fine. The duck liver was as unappetizing as beef liver was. Chicken feet and fish head soup, though? Those were a hard no. Thankfully there was a sandwich shop in the T station where she and Michael changed subway lines. He laughed at her bliss-filled face as she practically inhaled a meatball sub. "I'll have Chen Song make you something authentic that only involves meat found in American grocery stores, hǎobù hǎo?"

At home, Michael pulled the one item out of his shopping bag that he hadn't purchased: a bamboo dizi. Mr. Su had bought several cases; the black painted dizi sold out within a week. This one was left in its natural state and so was of little interest to the American girls swooning over The Untamed memorabilia. 'I don't know how to play this!' Michael had protested. "At one point, Beethoven didn't play the piano, either,' the elder Su retorted. Mr. Su didn't know Michael was the reincarnated Wèi WúXiàn; he just had a box of plain flutes sitting in his stock room and an obligation to say 'thank you' to the young man for protecting his shop windows.

Michael had never picked up a flute before. He lifted it to his lips and let his predecessor's muscle memory take over.

For the first time in centuries, Wàngxiàn's clear notes sang out into the night air.

Halloween

Wei WuXian sighed in happiness looking at his new house being built. The framing was done, and it looked so beautiful already. He had had multiple arguments (fights, really) with his architect over what he wanted the manor to look like. The other man insisted on a traditional style where the main buildings were all in rectangular formations with beautiful courtyards. The lesser buildings, like the kitchen and servant quarters, would be more out of the way. Wei Ying, however, wanted the kitchen to be built right next to his house. Hot food fast was rather important. And he wanted a bath house set right next to the kitchen. That way hot water needed to be transported only a few steps to the tub. After years of living in someone else's home or not having a home, Wei Ying fully intended to be pampered in his first proper residence.

Then he sighed, bored out of his mind. Liu was in class with other children close to her age. She would remain in classes until dinner time. XiaoShu was in one of the pastures learning how to ride a pony. After this lesson, he would be attending classes as well. Wen Ning was off tending to his familial shrine. A'Yuan was back in Cloud Recesses. The other juniors were probably studying or off on a night hunt. His own students were busy with a project and not interested in having an overseer. And his husband was busy with Headmaster Hua, gradually taking the reins of running the YilingWei Sect.

He wasn't enjoying being left alone.

His hill beckoned. He didn't have to worry about being ambushed here anymore; the Wei disciples cleared his hill of predators on a weekly basis. The lazy heat of the day pecked away at his boredom; eventually, he took off his outer robe to use as a blanket and let the bees and birds sing him off to a nap.

A body spooning itself around him woke him up sometime later. Without opening his eyes, he knew who it was. The scent of the other's skin, the way the arms hugged, the breathing pattern against his neck. "You're here," he sighed, absolutely and absurdly happily content.

"Where I belong," Lan Zhan whispered. "I missed you so much."

Wei Ying smiled against his lover's arm under his cheek. You lost me for thirteen years; what is a few hours? "I missed you, too." He laid a gentle kiss on the wrist. "Do you like the new house?"

"It's nice. Looks cosy, even though it's big."

"Mmmm…." Wei Ying agreed sleepily.

"Are you still tired? Do you need to sleep more? Or…." Lan Zhan's hips nudged forward, nestling his erection into Wei Ying's ass.

Wei Ying twisted slightly in his lover's arms, enough that his mouth could seek and find Lan Zhan's mouth. It was an awkward kiss considering that Lan Zhan's front was still pressed firmly against Wei Ying's back: more of lips brushing past and teeth scraping than lips molding and tongues entwining. The new position opened up Wei Ying's chest to Lan Zhan's exploring fingers; they slid under the other's shirt to caress the supple skin, to pluck and roll hardened nipples. Clothes were in the way, the silk too rough against increasingly sensitive skin. Wei Ying wiggled his way out of them so he could lie completely exposed to his husband's eager hands and mouth. Lan Zhan followed suit, in the process sliding his husband's legs apart and settling in between them. He thrust heavily against Wei Ying's stomach. "I need you so much," he whispered against the other's neck.

"Come inside me," Wei Ying begged. His hands slid up his lover's body to bring their faces together. He placed little nips and kisses against Lan Zhan's mouth. "I need you, too."

Lan Zhan reared up and forcibly rolled Wei Ying over onto his stomach. "I can't be gentle yet. Let me use your thighs first. Please." He lay over his lover and began thrusting his hips, groaning in pleasure.

Wei Ying lay below him: hard, wanting, empty, and in complete disbelief that his husband was fucking between his thighs instead of into his body. Lan Zhan was rarely gentle during their first round. Yes, sometimes he was too rough and it hurt more than normal. Nothing he couldn't handle, though. Nothing that couldn't be healed within minutes by his golden core. Above him, Lan Zhan was flexing his hips even faster, whispering 'I love you' over and over against Wei Ying's back. Finally, Wei Ying felt his raw, abused flesh soothed by his husband's slippery seed. "I did not enjoy that," the younger man pouted.

"I'm sorry," the older one slumped down. "I didn't have the time to take the edge off before I came up here. I didn't want to hurt you."

"You could never hurt me," Wei Ying reassured. He still wasn't happy, though. What edge? They'd left their bed rather late this morning because they wanted to add to the three rounds they'd done the night before. Based on the sun's angle, it was only mid-afternoon: not even half a day had passed since they had last been joined.

"A'Xian…. I love you so much." The soft words were accompanied by hot, wet kisses against Wei Ying's shoulder blades.

"I love you, too, ErGege."

Those words invigorated Lan Zhan; his finger rapidly drew the cleansing talisman on his husband's lower back. "Can I come in now?" Wei Ying nodded happily, eagerly spreading his legs a bit. Lan Zhan poured some oil over his hand and gently inserted one finger into Wei Ying's ass. "You're so tight," he groaned.

"You always say that."

"I always mean it. Roll over; I'll suck you."

Wei Ying's eyes rolled back in his head when his other 'head' was sucked tightly. The wet heat had him panting heavily, his hands moving restlessly. Sometimes they held tight to the cloth beneath him. Sometimes they gripped Lan Zhan's hair or shoulders as the other's head bobbed up and down. When a second slippery finger invaded his ass, his left hand clenched, hard, onto a shoulder while he bit down on his right. Tight didn't begin to describe how he felt down there; the two fingers could barely move.

Lan Zhan's thumb was not idle, either. While the first two fingers slid in and out and twisted and stretched the narrow passageway, the thumb pressed down on smooth skin, rubbed against the balls in their pouch. Wei Ying was still panting in pain and pleasure when Lan Zhan introduced a third finger into his hole. For a few heartbeats his vision went completely white and he stopped breathing; the stretch was agonizing, amazing. The pain felt so good, almost intoxicating. The fingers inside him curled and pressed, searching for that one spot guaranteed to bring him such an incredible release. "Er'Gege!" he sobbed around the hand still clenched in his teeth, twisting his waist. The mouth sucking so hard suddenly dipped lower, engulfing the entire length. Wei Ying's hips thrust twice and he exploded into his lover's throat.

Wei Ying's mind floated in an orgasmic haze. There was a vague understanding that Lan Zhan's long fingers were moving again, stretching him out more. Then he felt suddenly empty, could feel his hole spasming, desperate for something to fill it. He felt like he should be embarrassed that his husband could see his body begging to be filled. But his knees were being pressed up towards his shoulders and a thick, stiff rod was steadily pushing into his body.

Michael's eyes snapped open, body still twitching from the aftermath of the orgasm he shared with his predecessor. What a dream! You horny bastards….