The Seventh Year the Demon King Captured the Holy Monarch

Since Hun Yao had spoken thus, Langmuir had no objections.

The two of them rode a wildebeest together. If they encountered any danger, the Holy Monarch with demonic breath would surely block it first. Therefore, Langmuir was certain that Hun Yao would not lead him into dangerous places recklessly.

After a while, they deliberately slowed down the horse, taking advantage of the inattention of the guys in front to turn onto a small road. By the time the demons turned around and found that the king had run away again, Hun Yao was already maliciously laughing and waving at them.

“You’re really bad,” Langmuir said.

“Aren’t you also becoming bad with me?” Hun Yao replied.

The spring day was clear, and gradually only the sound of insects and birds chirping remained around them. Langmuir relaxed his body and squinted to look at the scenery along the way.

“Be careful,” he said lazily, “Don’t take me into a ditch.”

“Heh, how satisfying would it be to take you into a ditch? Wait, today I’m going to sink you into a lake…go!”

The Demon King’s empty threats were not the first or second time, and Langmuir just laughed after hearing them.

But after a while, he couldn’t laugh anymore.

Because Langmuir realized something more terrifying than “might be sunk in a lake” – the “slightly far” in Hun Yao’s mouth was not “slightly”, nor was it “a bit”!

They rode for two hours, even stopping to rest once in the middle, and the Demon King actually told him that they had only traveled half the distance.

By noon, they were both hungry, so they had to hunt by themselves.

Langmuir was both angry and amused. “My King, you wouldn’t deliberately take me on a detour, would you?”

Hun Yao was tying the reins of the wildebeest to a tree, and he snorted at the words. “Nonsense, this is already the shortest route.”

Langmuir grabbed the only set of bow and arrows hanging on the saddle. “Anyway, if we’re going to hunt, it’s going to be me.”

Hun Yao spread his hands. “Alright, if you want to do it, then do it.”

——The Demon King wouldn’t say that although he indeed liked hunting, he actually preferred watching Langmuir draw a bow.

Hunting was naturally no challenge for Langmuir.

Before releasing the bowstring, the former son of god would habitually close his eyes and whisper a prayer. The arrow pierced the wind and went through the neck of a bird in the sky.

The rest of the work was the Demon King’s. Hun Yao skillfully plucked and cleaned the game. Langmuir picked up some branches and handed them to him. He used a curved knife to sharpen the front end of the branches and skewered the game.

Then it was time to start a fire.

This was simple. With a point of Langmuir’s finger, the demonic breath ignited the bonfire.

Hun Yao sat by, watching with a smirk, “If you didn’t have demonic breath, you wouldn’t be able to start a fire, would you?”

Langmuir actually thought seriously about it and finally said, “I’ll try next time.”

The flames jumped and burned, Hun Yao patiently turned the branch, the bird meat slowly roasted, and a thin layer of golden brown appeared on the skin. Langmuir brought some homemade spices, sprinkled a small handful on it, and the aroma was immediately appetizing.

“Is it ready?”

“Wait a bit longer, the inside isn’t cooked through yet.”

The roasted bird meat was taken down by Hun Yao and placed on a leaf.

Langmuir wanted to reach out, but Hun Yao quickly stopped him, “Don’t move, it’s hot.”

Now, Langmuir also had sharp nails and scales, but in Hun Yao’s subconscious, this was always a human with soft skin that was easily injured.

He had to take good care of him.

He would tear the roasted bird meat into small strips,

Put it on the leaves to let the wind cool it down, and when it wasn’t so hot, he would stuff it into Langmuir’s mouth.

And Langmuir was overly considerate–he was actually very gentle and caring, but when he realized Hun Yao’s little thoughts, he would gladly accept the feeding and care from the Demon King, and when he was in a good mood, he would even take the initiative to act coquettishly to satisfy the Demon King’s desire for control.

Their mode of getting along was thus fixed: most of the time, they were like a standard pair of tyrant and a favored concubine; only occasionally, the provoked Holy Monarch would reveal his cold edge, put a leash on the disobedient Demon King, and give him a severe lesson.

After eating, they got on their horse and headed north.

Langmuir finally couldn’t help it, “My King, we’re so far from the royal court, where are you planning to take me?”

“Hmm, there’s still a bit to go, we’re almost there.”

“Can we get back tonight?”

“That’s definitely not possible.”

“……”

During the third rest in the afternoon, Hun Yao somehow got some tree fruits, but he hid them in his arms and didn’t let him see, just asked him to close his eyes and open his mouth.

Langmuir did as he was told without any guard, and as a result, when he bit down, the sour juice almost choked him.

He covered his mouth with his hand, feigned anger and glared, “My King!”

But then he paused, chewed a couple of times, and said uncertainly, “…Hey, didn’t you give me this kind of fruit a long time ago?”

And the Broken Horn Demon King stood aside with his arms folded, squinting his eyes and smiling, “You guess?”

……

Hun Yao said they were almost there, having rarely rode such a long way, he had to give him a surprise.

So Langmuir was blindfolded.

It was almost sunset by then. Although they hadn’t rushed along the way, resting when they were tired, and even picked a comfortable spot in the sun for a nap halfway through, the fatigue began to creep into their bones after riding the wildebeest for so long.

Langmuir closed his eyes and sighed, “You’re not really going to sink me into a lake, are you?”

Coincidentally, not long after he finished speaking, a faint sound of water came to his ears.

It was not the sound of a babbling stream, but the slow crashing of waves against the shore.

“Hmm, we’re here.”

With that, the Demon King pulled on the reins, and the wildebeest stopped. Langmuir was still in a fog, and he was lifted from under his ribs–Hun Yao actually picked him up from the horse, cradling him in his arms, and walked straight towards the sound of water!

Langmuir: ??

What’s he doing, is he really going to sink him into a lake??

“Take a look, Langmuir,” Hun Yao’s hoarse voice came, “This place–”

The cloth strip in front of his eyes was suddenly pulled off, the evening light was not dazzling, and Langmuir immediately opened his eyes.

“…!”

The sky and the lake in front of him were indistinguishable like a mirror, the afterglow of the sunset reflected on the lake like oil paint, and was blown into ripples by the wind. They seemed to be in the center of a divine realm.

A steep cliff stood quietly by the lake. Langmuir was completely stunned, even forgetting to breathe. Hun Yao turned his head and kissed his horn, asking softly, “Do you remember this place?”

For a moment, Langmuir’s heart was filled with rolling emotions, causing a sour and painful feeling.

Fourteen years ago, their fate began here.

That embrace in the fire, the running in the wind, and the bottomless cold lake water–

They had once fallen hand in hand here, falling towards the last turning point for humans and demons, and also falling into a deeply engraved love and hate entanglement.

Langmuir held onto Hun Yao’s arm. He closed his eyes and pressed his face against the Demon King’s shoulder, “This place, is where you and I met.”

Hun Yao quietly looked at the scenery in front of him.

“That little inferior demon back then,” he said, “was the first demon who called me ‘Demon King’ without malice after my horn broke.”

“That rainy night spent in the cave, I even thought that this silly little thing would follow me all the way, until he became my first subject. But the next day you disappeared without a trace.”

“For a long time, I hoped you were dead, so I wouldn’t have to suffer the ridiculous betrayal again. But every time I tried to imagine your death, the hatred in my heart only increased.”

“I’m sorry.” Langmuir said.

“No.” Hun Yao suddenly turned to look at him, “You came back. You didn’t die, you came back to my side, to witness the rest of my life.”

They sat down by the lake, soaking both their legs and tails in the cool lake water.

The surface of the water was very clear, and occasionally a group of fish fry would swim by quickly. Some of Langmuir’s calves still had skin that was not covered by scales, and occasionally a fish would peck at it.

“The lake is blue-green in the summer, it’s beautiful. In another month, we can come swimming.” Hun Yao said, “I’ll teach you.”

Langmuir insisted, “I can swim.”

Hun Yao laughed, “Forget it, what you do can hardly be called swimming, it’s just that you won’t drown temporarily.”

Langmuir was afraid of the cold, and after playing in the shallow water for half an hour, Hun Yao called him up. They picked up some branches by the lake, made a small fire, and said they would watch the stars here at night.

“By the way, there’s also that cave.” Langmuir said, “Can it be found?”

Hun Yao took a branch and stirred the fire, thought about it and said, “Definitely, but that place is too remote, we have to go into the forest and look slowly.”

“Ah, let’s leave it for next time then, we’ve been acting alone for too long, the young king and the others will worry.”

They would kiss in the gaps of their conversation, lips brushing against lips, breath intertwining with breath. Until the sun set beyond the cliff, casting the last golden light onto the earth.

“…What a beautiful view.” Langmuir looked up and gazed.

And Hun Yao looked at him with a side glance, his heartbeat quietly quickening.

From some years onwards, the Demon King began to love dawn and dusk.

When Langmuir’s silver-gray hair turned into a dazzling gold under the sunset, he would occasionally have a one-thousandth of a second illusion, as if those scars and missed opportunities had never happened. His beloved human was intact, always a pure and holy son of god.

But when the vast daylight flowed from the bottom of Langmuir’s eyes, he woke up from his beautiful dream as night fell, realizing that those were indelible marks given by fate.

He would regret Langmuir’s demonization, just as he knew that Langmuir would also be saddened when kissing his broken horns.

But the past had passed, just like the sand blown away by the wind between the fingers. Fortunately, there was still a handful left in the palm of the hand, which was their present and future.

As if by curious coincidence, Hun Yao reached out to hold Langmuir’s horn, making him turn towards himself. “Langmuir.”

Langmuir tilted his head gently.

“I have something…I want to discuss with you.”

“You say.”

Hun Yao frowned, “Don’t use honorifics.”

Langmuir laughed, “I’m just used to it. Alright, you say, I’m listening.”

“Then…” Hun Yao’s palms slid down, first stroking Langmuir’s cheeks, then landing on his shoulders, and then continuing down along the arms of the Holy Monarch, finally holding those hands.

The Demon King spread his wild and flamboyant eyebrows.

“Langmuir, I love you.”

His voice was low, his eyes were fiery, “I also believe that you love me.”

“So, would you…”

“Would you like to become my lifelong, only partner?”

The evening light was completely swallowed by the silhouette of the mountain.

The evening wind wrinkled the lake water, and when the wind stopped, it reflected the stars.

Langmuir’s eyes widened, very clean, also reflecting the evening stars, like a small night sky trembling with surprise.

“You… you mean…”

“Cough.”

Hun Yao averted his gaze, forcibly calming himself and clearing his throat. “Yes, I am proposing to you.”

Just as he finished speaking, Hun Yao felt a slight tremor in the fingertips he was holding.

Langmuir’s breathing quickened, he quickly lowered his head, his eyes blinking. At the same time, he held Hun Yao’s hands in return.

“We…” he asked softly, “Can we…really?”

“Of course, as long as you’re willing.”

“But, isn’t it a bit hasty?”

“Yes,” Hun Yao said, “I am in a hurry.”

The Holy Monarch couldn’t help but smile. He raised his hand to brush away a strand of silver hair that had been blown into his eyes by the wind, seemingly trying to make a serious expression, but he laughed again.

“Alright,” Langmuir said with a helpless yet gentle smile, “In that case, my answer is very willing, my Demon King.”

The next moment, the Demon King, like a cheetah that had been waiting for an opportunity, coiled his scaly tail and cunningly entwined the Holy Monarch’s tail. He pushed Langmuir down onto the soft grass by the lake, using his knee to part his lover’s legs.

Langmuir closed his eyes, smiling as he raised his arms. He wrapped his arms around Hun Yao’s neck, accepting this belated love.

Under the starry sky, two figures merged into one.