The mountain winds had grown calmer, but the tension between them still surged like crashing waves. As dusk settled, Crown Prince Longxuan followed the mysterious old man—his steps careful, his eyes sharp. He had just witnessed the man fend off a powerful beast to save a passing merchant family, all with impossible grace. But what unsettled Longxuan most wasn't the strength—it was the complete absence of qi. Nothing. As if the man were made of air and stone, yet he had the power to flatten mountains.
He couldn't be just an old drunk.
And he wasn't.
The closer Longxuan followed, the more his heart began to tremble with suspicion, with hope. That gait. That jawline under the wrinkled disguise. The subtle way he flicked his sleeve, like he once wielded realms beneath it. He had seen it before. Lived beside it. Held it in his arms.
It couldn't be.
As night descended, the mysterious man—Mo Tianzun, once the Demon Lord now in hiding—finally stopped at a quiet, isolated pavilion by the sea. He asked for a room to stay, but the innkeeper bowed apologetically, "We only have one room left."
Before he could decline, Longxuan had stepped beside him and placed a few silver taels on the table. "We'll take it."
Mo Tianzun side-eyed him, but said nothing.
—————
Inside the pavilion room, the flickering lantern light cast shadows on the wooden walls, soft and golden, warming the cool night air. Mo Tianzun sat on the edge of the low bed, having just peeled off the aged mask and untied the cloth binding his silver hair. The transformation was quiet yet stunning—as if time itself bowed in silence. He looked up when he heard the door creak.
Longxuan stood there. Still soaked from the rain outside, his eyes locked on the man before him. "So it really is you…" he whispered, his voice barely holding itself together. "You've been alive all this time… twenty years. And you said nothing?"
Mo Tianzun remained still, gaze heavy with regret. "It was better this way. You had your own life. I—"
"You were my life!" Longxuan stepped forward suddenly. "I came to the cliff every year, every month, every week... I saw you with my own eyes falling to that shit cliff!, and I still waited! Do you have any idea what that did to me?"
The pain in his voice pierced through Tianzun's ancient heart. Longxuan's hand trembled as he reached out and grabbed the front of Tianzun's robe, his breath ragged. "You should have told me. You should've given me something. A sign. Anything…"
Mo Tianzun opened his mouth, but no words came. And then Longxuan crushed their mouths together, desperate, furious, and breaking all at once.
The kiss was wild, bruising, and soaked in years of mourning. Mo Tianzun tried to push him back—but only for a second. Then the dam broke.
He kissed Longxuan back, threading his fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, devouring the tears from his lips.
Longxuan lifted him effortlessly into his arms and walked to the bed without breaking the kiss. Their bodies tangled, the heat rising. Robes fell away piece by piece, the flicker of candlelight dancing over long scars and old memories.
Tianzun gasped as Longxuan's lips trailed down his neck, fingers worshiping every inch of his body like a prayer. It wasn't rushed. It was reverent. Painful. Healing. A lover mourning and returning all at once.
When Tianzun whispered his name, trembling and breathless, Longxuan paused and looked at him—forehead resting against his. "You're mine now," he murmured. "Even if the world tries to take you again, I'll burn it to the ground before I let them."
Mo Tianzun could only nod, eyes wet but full of something tender—something alive again.
They moved together under the moonlight, slow and consuming. No words, just the language of two souls finally reunited after twenty years of death, silence, and longing.
.
.
.
The storm outside had settled, but in the quiet room, the air was thick with everything unsaid.
Their bodies came together slowly, like rivers converging, moving as though to memorize the feeling of being one after years of aching separation. Mo Tianzun clutched the sheets, his legs trembling from the overload of sensation—of being seen, of being touched, of being loved in a way that didn't demand anything in return.
Longxuan's hands were gentle but sure, guiding him through it, worshipping him like a fallen god reborn. "You don't have to be strong here," he whispered, brushing his lips against Tianzun's temple. "Just stay. Let me have this moment with you."
Tianzun turned to him, voice cracking, "I don't know how to be held like this... not after everything I've done."
"I do," Longxuan said, pressing his forehead to his. "So let me hold you. For everything you were... and everything you are now."
The rhythm between them deepened. Tianzun's hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into flesh, but not to push him away—only to hold on tighter. His moans were muffled against Longxuan's neck, breathless and breaking.
They moved together like dancers, like shadows in moonlight, until there was nothing left between them but love, longing, and release.
When it was over, Tianzun lay in Longxuan's arms, the sound of his heart echoing in his ears. He never thought he would feel this again. He never thought someone would ever touch him with such care. He had been worshipped before—but never loved like this.
Longxuan tucked the silver hair behind his ear and whispered, "You're mine. And I'm yours. Let the heavens burn."
Mo Tianzun didn't respond immediately. His lashes were damp. Then, in a soft voice that trembled like wind over water, he said, "Then don't leave me again."
"I won't."