#bingheweek

Happy Birthday Ma boi! you are loved ~

The Choice

Title: The Monster in Us Author: Akiko / Rinsled05 (AO3) Rating: PG-13 Warnings: None Summary: Luo Binghe snaps. It’s humans who bully the weak and step on the downtrodden. It’s humans who care only about power and control, who hurt others for the sheer fun of it. Humans are the scum of this world. (Part 2 of a Binghe-centered; Bingqiu; Monster/Human AU.)

Written for @bingheweek: Day 5; Disciple Prev parts: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4

---

It's Meng Mo who approaches Luo Binghe the next morning, arms tucked in the sleeves of his robes.

"What happened?" he asks, gingerly.

Luo Binghe glares at Meng Mo. Curled in a ball, he knows he's shaking, eyes bloodshot and sigil glowing red in the darkness. Looking as if he's finally fallen past the edge of sanity. Nightmares kept him up all night—of Qingge mocking him, insulting him, stabbing him through the heart with a dagger. All while Shen Qingqiu watched and laughed.

"I enter people's dreams, as you know," Meng Mo says. "And yours were, well. Unsettling."

Ah, yes. It's why the outline of Meng Mo is so faint, having gone in and out of this reality so many times that his own body has faded.

"Understatement of the year," Luo Binghe mutters.

"Mmhm." Meng Mo floats closer, the edge of his long robes trailing across the floor. "I can feel your rage, too. Your hatred."

Luo Binghe looks away, scowling. "Humans bring nothing but pain."

"Even your mother?" Meng Mo says. "The old washer lady in your childhood stories?"

The old man's questions fan the flames of Luo Binghe's bitterness into a towering inferno, scorching a burning trail up his throat.

"They left me," he rasps. "When I most needed them. I was scared, I was alone… and if they'd just trusted monsters enough to let me be with them—! My own mother fraternized enough to have me, so why…!?" Luo Binghe buries his face in his knees, the tip of his horns scraping against skin. "I hate them, so much."

Silence. Then, a quiet rustle, before Luo Binghe feels the silk fabric of Meng Mo's robes brush his arms as the monster sinks down next to him.

"I can also take company into dreams," Meng Mo says. "If said company so wishes."

Luo Binghe snorts. "Why the hell would I want to—" He stops when the full implication of Meng Mo's suggestion dawns on him. Sucks in a breath, the red of his sigil faltering. "You mean…"

"Oh, yes," Meng Mo says. "To observe. And to understand."

Luo Binghe straightens, jaw clenched. He's always wanted to understand the human psyche, what drives them to such brutalities and wanton betrayal.

Most of all, he wants to know what Shen Qingqiu is thinking.

"I'm in."

---

Shen Qingqiu's dreamscape is a barren desert, their feet sinking into the hot sand with each step. The sun beats down on them, merciless, not even a wisp of cloud to soften the harsh rays. In the heat, it's hard to breathe, the air thick and hazy and full of sand.

This isn't at all what Luo Binghe is expecting.

He turns to Meng Mo, who shakes his head.

“Every dreamscape reflects a person’s state of mind. Some are gardens: rich and full of life. Others are…" Meng Mo shades his eyes and looks out at the desolate world ahead. "...anything but."

Luo Binghe swallows, hard. In retrospect, it makes sense; Shen Qingqiu can’t have turned into a human-hating hermit without some damage to his psyche. But for his mind to be this isolated, this empty… all of Luo Binghe’s rage evaporates under the scorching sun.

Maybe Shen Qingqiu needs him as much as he does Shen Qingqiu.

"Come," Meng Mo says. "There must be an oasis somewhere."

They venture across the searing sand, Luo Binghe trudging after Meng Mo, who floats smoothly through the air.

"How do you know there's an oasis?" Luo Binghe asks, spitting out sand.

Meng Mo shrugs. "Because no human or monster would possess the will to live, otherwise."

Given the vastness of this wasteland, Shen Qingqiu must be barely surviving.

Luo Binghe feels his heart sink at the thought, just as Meng Mo points a bony finger at a spot of color in the far distance, hidden amidst the neverending shades of brown.

The oasis is small but lush. There're plenty of flowers, trees, small ponds, even small animals, as if all life squeezed itself into this tiny space and made the best of what it could.

In the middle of it, sits Shen Qingqiu.

The smell of cinnamon is strong here, stronger than jasmine or pine, and Luo Binghe breathes in the cloying sweetness with relish.

Meng Mo gestures. "Let's get closer."

"Won't he see us?" Luo Binghe whispers.

"Only if I want him to," Meng Mo says.

They walk right up to Shen Qingqiu, whose head is bowed, tending to something on the ground.

At the sight of it, Luo Binghe's chest goes hot in an entirely different way.

A pot of jasmines, labeled "From Binghe" in elegant penmanship.

And from the way Shen Qingqiu is gazing at it, lashes fanned over soft eyes, the way he waters the flowers with such careful tips of the watering can, it looks almost as though… as though….

"He treasures you," Meng Mo says, softly.

This is it.

This is the answer Luo Binghe was seeking.

Without thought, he falls to his knees, throwing his arms around Shen Qingqiu. Lets out a sob when they pass right through—fail to give him the warmth he so craves—but he presses in anyway, pushing his nose into the crook of Shen Qingqiu's neck. Even in a dream, the aromas there—of cinnamon, jasmine, pine—are overwhelming, dizzying, and Luo Binghe wants to drown in them, forever.

But he does pause, just a beat, when his eyes catch a glint of the guanyin pendant on Shen Qingqiu's chest.

"Meng Mo."

"What is it," Meng Mo says, floating up.

"Is there any way I can find out what that means to him?" Luo Binghe asks, claws flicking at the pendant.

"It's important to him, if he's wearing it in his oasis," Meng Mo hums, one hand reaching for his beard. "We'd have to sift through his memories for that one."

Luo Binghe's head snaps up. "You can do that?"

"Of course," Meng Mo huffs, seemingly insulted. "I toy with dreams; memories are but child's play."

"Can you teach me?"

Meng Mo strokes his beard. "It's a dangerous skill, Luo Binghe. How do I know you won't use it to mess with human minds?"

Luo Binghe turns to bow. "I only wish to learn everything I can about Shen Qingqiu so I can understand him. Learn to trust humans again," he adds, glibly.

Meng Mo shoots a glance at Shen Qingqiu, before he tucks his arms into his sleeves with a sigh.

Title: The Monster in Us Author: Akiko / Rinsled05 (AO3) Rating: PG-13 Warnings: None Summary: Luo Binghe snaps. It’s humans who bully the weak and step on the downtrodden. It’s humans who care only about power and control, who hurt others for the sheer fun of it. Humans are the scum of this world. (Part 2 of a Binghe-centered; Bingqiu; Monster/Human AU.)

Written for @bingheweek: Day 4; Despair. Prev parts: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3

---

Shen Qingqiu stops coming to the pub.

It starts to weigh on Luo Binghe, perking up every time the double doors swing open, only to catch a glimpse of horns, wings, or tails. Just another monster, he’d think, fists clenched. Just another monster.

Weeks in, he yearns the smell of jasmine to the point of aching.

But, of course. Whenever he wants a human, the human leaves.

His mother did, and so did the old washer woman.

Why shouldn’t Shen Qingqiu?  

The embers deep inside him spark to life, hot and molten. Humans are selfish, he thinks. Humans are untrustworthy. Humans are—

“Okay, you need to stop,” Sha Hualing snaps.

Luo Binghe’s eyes narrow. “Stop what?”

“Stop glowing.” Sha Hualing flicks a finger at the sigil on Luo Binghe’s forehead. “You’re scaring customers.”

Luo Binghe shifts his gaze to the monster at the counter, who stares back at him with its five eyes, wide and trembling.

Ah. Right.

Luo Binghe draws in a breath, slow and deep; lets his frustration melt away with his exhale.

“Better,” Sha Hualing sniffs. “Look, if you want to ask Shen Qingqiu out, you’ll have to be patient. Showing up twice every week? Totally abnormal for him. Next time he comes out will probably be—”

“I have his home address,” Mobei Jun says from the other side of the bar.

Luo Binghe’s heart leaps.

“What!?” Sha Hualing whirls on Mobei Jun. “How do you have his address? He doesn’t give anything to anyone. Not even his phone number!”

Mobei Jun ignores her, arching an eyebrow at Luo Binghe instead. ("I'm talking to you," she shrieks.)

“Do you want it or not?”

“I do,” Luo Binghe says, without thought. Seconds before Sha Hualing lunges at Mobei Jun.

---

The scent of pine has taken over.

Luo Binghe pauses, one hand lifted and hovering just inches away from Shen Qingqiu's front door. He's beginning to understand that the different scents indicate Shen Qingqiu's different moods, but pine is so rare that he can't fathom what that means.

It's no less alluring, though, if Luo Binghe's quickening pulse is any indication.

He looks down at the bouquet of jasmines in his other hand, wondering if this is a good idea. They've met a few times, spoken for less than twenty minutes each. And now he's shown up, unannounced, at the doorstep of a man who prefers to be left alone. But Meng Mo and Sha Hualing were so insistent about the visit—"And a gift," they chorused in unison—that he caved, stopping by a flower shop on the way.

Shen Qingqiu lives on the far side of the district, in a quiet little apartment complex by the lake. It suits him, the tranquility of the place, and Luo Binghe can picture him seated on a bench, gazing out at the still waters. The thought warms Luo Binghe, brings out a smile on his face.

Good idea or not, he won't find out by waiting at the front door.

Breathing deep, Luo Binghe raises his hand again.

But the door jerks open first.

"—really, you're being overprotective—"

Shen Qingqiu cuts off mid-sentence, his eyes going wide as they flick up to meet Luo Binghe's. He's in shorts and an oversized shirt that slides off one shoulder, carrying a trash bag in one hand. Luo Binghe's own eyes are drawn to the smooth, exposed skin like a moth to the flame.

The earthy scent of pine hits him, seconds later, mixed with a hint of cinnamon.

"Binghe," Shen Qingqiu says, voice slightly strained. "What are you doing here?"

Flushing, Luo Binghe drags his gaze back up. "I uh… I got your address from Mobei Jun and I thought I'd, um…"

"This really isn't a good time," Shen Qingqiu sighs.

Luo Binghe swallows. Shen Qingqiu isn't yelling, nor is he wielding a weapon of any sort. So far, so good. "Is there ever a good time?" he says, sounding bolder than he feels.

Shen Qingqiu's lips tip upward at the corners. "Fair point.” Then, he tilts his head, hair falling across his face. (The pad of Luo Binghe's fingers inch to brush it aside.) "Are those for me?" he asks, nodding at the bouquet.

Luo Binghe brightens. "Yes, they're—"

"Who's there?"

The voice is low and deep.

And coming from inside Shen Qingqiu's apartment.

Luo Binghe's chest goes tight.

"It's…" Shen Qingqiu hesitates. "...a friend."

"A monster?" the voice says. Something about the way that's said makes Luo Binghe's hackles rise, his free hand rolling into a fist. It's the emphasis on the second word, the sheer disgust injected into otherwise neutral syllables.

"He's harmless, Qingge," Shen Qingqiu says.

Luo Binghe cracks a smile, forces the words out of his mouth. "Who's Qingge?"

The pine smell gets stronger, pushing out the cinnamon. Enticing as it is, Luo Binghe decides that he doesn't like that scent on Shen Qingqiu.

"Qingge is—"

"A friend."

A man shows up behind Shen Qingqiu, his dark eyes narrowed and blazing, the muscles of his lean body coiled tight beneath the white T-shirt like a wound spring.

"A human friend," the man adds, arms folded across his chest.

Luo Binghe might have ignored him—maybe tugged Shen Qingqiu into the corridor and slammed the door in his face— if not for the jade guanyin pendant hanging at his chest. An exact replica of Shen Qingqiu's.

This Qingge must be more than a friend.

Something painful happens in Luo Binghe's chest, and he turns to leave, eyes burning.

"Wait, Binghe—"

"Don't," Luo Binghe chokes out. "Don't say my name."

Not like that, so soft and wistful and sad.

The way his mother did, right before she died.

Whipping around, he shoves the bouquet into Shen Qingqiu's arms before he flees.

Title: The Monster in Us Author: Akiko / Rinsled05 (AO3) Rating: PG-13 Warnings: None Summary: Luo Binghe snaps. It’s humans who bully the weak and step on the downtrodden. It’s humans who care only about power and control, who hurt others for the sheer fun of it. Humans are the scum of this world. (Part 2 of a Binghe-centered; Bingqiu; Monster/Human AU.)

Written for @bingheweek: Day 3; Poison. Prev parts: Day 1 | Day 2 

---

Luo Binghe remembers Shen Qingqiu’s fragrance vividly—the overwhelming sweetness of jasmine and the way it sent tingles down his spine, right to his toes. That’s never happened before; not with his mother, not with the old washer woman. Definitely not with his monster friends.

What’s happening to him?

“You’ve found a mate.”

Luo Binghe stares at Mobei Jun. “A what?”

“A mate,” Mobei Jun says again, face impassive.

It’s so rare for Mobei Jun to weigh in on such matters that Luo Binghe can’t help but lean in for more. He knows next to nothing about Mobei Jun, beyond the fact that he’s from the tundras of the far north and can drink Sha Hualing under the table. Now, he can add "willing educator of monster relationships" to the list.

“What do you mean? How would you know that?”

“We have a heightened sense of smell compared to humans. But what you’re reacting to isn’t just his scent. It’s his pheromones.”

Luo Binghe turns bright red. “Oh.”

“And we only react to that with a potential mate.”

“So…” Luo Binghe swallows. “So my potential mate is a human? That’s not supposed to happen. I hate humans. We hate humans. Right? I mean, we’re monsters—well, technically, I’m half-monster, but I’ve vowed to stay away from humans because of their vicious, cruel nature. What am I supposed to do now?”

In the silence that follows, Mobei Jun huffs out a sigh, his breath forming a cold mist in the air.  

“Talk to Sha Hualing,” says the ice demon.

Then, he gets off the couch and leaves.

---

All Sha Hualing does is laugh, pause for breath, then laugh some more.

---

Several times, Shen Qingqiu returns to the pub.

“You came out of your apartment again? Should we call an ambulance?” Sha Hualing quips, which draws out a low chuckle from the man.

Luo Binghe shivers at the sound.

The scent of jasmine isn’t as strong as before, but it’s there, and it’s distracting. Twice, Luo Binghe mixes the wrong cocktails and serves them to the wrong customers. Twice, he spills drinks over the counter, on monsters’ laps.

“The hell is wrong with you?” Sha Hualing hisses, wings stretched taut behind her. “You take idiot pills this evening? Get your act together!”

“Sorry,” Luo Binghe mutters.

He looks up to find Shen Qingqiu watching him, laugh lines crinkling around the corners of his warm eyes.

Cinnamon joins jasmine, the fragrance now sweeter than ever.

Luo Binghe drops his third drink.

---

“Love is like poison,” Meng Mo says, sagely, floating cross-legged in midair. “It can hurt you, kill you, destroy what’s left of you. But like every poison, it is also a cure. A cure for loneliness, for loss, for despair. Exactly what you need right now."

Luo Binghe blinks at him. “What?"

“Oh for—” Sha Hualing shoves Meng Mo aside, ignoring his indignant yelp. “What the old fool is trying to say is, so what if Shen Qingqiu is human? Yeah, you might get hurt because humans are assholes, but guess what? Monsters can be assholes, too. So just fucking ask Shen Qingqiu out already.” She jabs a claw at him, sharp and painted dark red. “Or I’ll do it for you.”

Luo Binghe decides to ask Shen Qingqiu about dinner the next time he sees him.

Title: The Monster in Us Author: Akiko / Rinsled05 (AO3) Rating: PG-13 Warnings: None Summary: Luo Binghe snaps. It’s humans who bully the weak and step on the downtrodden. It’s humans who care only about power and control, who hurt others for the sheer fun of it. Humans are the scum of this world. (Part 2 of a Binghe-centered; Bingqiu; Monster/Human AU.)

Written for @bingheweek: Day 2; Found. Prev parts: Day 1

---

Monsters aren’t hard to find; they’ve been relegated to a tiny district in town, cordoned off and forgotten by the rest of society. 

Luo Binghe finds his place in a group of monsters that run a pub in the seediest, rowdiest corner of the district. Meng Mo is the boss; Mobei Jun and Sha Hualing tend to the bar, mixing drinks and entertaining customers. They had ushered in Luo Binghe the second they laid eyes on him—on the blood-red sigil between his horns, the dark splatters across his face and chest. ("He's gonna bring trouble," Sha Hualing hissed, bat wings fluttering in agitation. Meng Mo shushed her, his form faint and almost dream-like, while Mobei Jun wiped Luo Binghe down, his palms ice-cold even through the towel.)

The next day, Meng Mo puts Luo Binghe straight to work, running little errands and tasks for him. From time to time, Sha Hualing makes comments about the “putrid smell of human” in Luo Binghe, but the other two choose to leave it alone, for which Luo Binghe is grateful.

For the next few years, Luo Binghe is content. His adolescent body fills out, and by twenty, he has grown enough to tower over Sha Hualing, even meet Mobei Jun’s icy stare at eye level. Meng Mo has him working at the bar, then, next to Mobei Jun and Sha Hualing.

Instantly, the pub sees a burst of new patrons, all of them fawning over the newest bartender.

(“Typical,” Sha Hualing snorts, wings unfurling. “One whiff of fresh meat is all it takes.”)

Luo Binghe doesn’t mind. It’s the sort of attention that doesn’t involve a bat swung at his face, or a foot stuck between his ribs. The sort that actually feels good.

From time to time, he has thoughts about revolution, flames of rage licking up his chest, raw and consuming. Thoughts about the rise of monsters and their rights, their place, in this messed up world. 

But Luo Binghe is content now. Satisfied, even. 

Monsters are happy where they are, and perhaps he should be, too. 

Until one day, a man walks into the pub.

A human man. 

Tall and slim, he’s wearing a dark green coat over a white T-shirt and tattered jeans. He moves with grace and confidence, gliding over to the bar counter and squeezing into the gap between a monster with the head of an eagle and another that's made of clay. As if it's just a stroll in the park. 

“What drinks have you got today?” he asks, leaning across the counter. Against his chest, a jade guanyin pendant shifts with the movement, glinting in the dim light.  

Luo Binghe breathes deep, catching a waft of jasmine, cinnamon, and pine. Sweet and earthy, not a hint of fear. “Nothing a human would want,” he says in a low growl.

Unfazed, the man’s mouth curls on one side. “Try me,” he says.

Something about that ignites a spark in Luo Binghe.

“Hey,” Sha Hualing snaps, a warning, but he’s already mixing the most potent drink he knows, shaking it thoroughly before he pours it into a glass and slides it across the counter.

Bending over, the man takes a sniff at the drink. “Are you trying to kill me?” he says after a beat.

Luo Binghe scowls. “You wanted a challenge.”

“Not to the death.”

The man draws back to study Luo Binghe. The scent of jasmine grows stronger as his honey-brown eyes rove down Luo Binghe, whose cheeks warm at the sensation. 

“You’re new,” the man says.

New? How would he know that, unless—

“That’s what you get for staying holed up in your apartment all day,” Sha Hualing scoffs. 

Wait. What?

 “I live in this district so no one'll bother me about socializing.” The man shoves the glass back. “Just give me my usual.”

“Coming right up.”

Confused, Luo Binghe turns to Sha Hualing. “You know him?” he whispers.

“Sure, I do.” Sha Hualing’s hands flit about as she prepares the cocktail mix. “Shen Qingqiu, the hermit who chose to live on this side of town. Don’t get the wrong idea; he’s not crazy about monsters. But between humans and monsters, he prefers to live with us.” Her red lips curve in a lopsided smirk. “Pretty smart for an inferior species, if you ask me.”

“I’m not deaf, you know,” Shen Qingqiu grumbles.

“With your sense of hearing, you humans might as well be.” Sha Hualing absently flicks the tip of her wing at Luo Binghe. “This is our new hire, Luo Binghe. A halfie,” she adds as an afterthought.  

“Ah,” Shen Qingqiu says. “Is that why you’re here?”

Luo Binghe nods, slowly, resting a hand on the counter to steady himself. A human is talking to him. A human that smells nice and looks nice—oh, more than nice, really—is actually willing to make conversation with him. Without the desire to maim him.

The bizarreness of the situation is making him dizzy.  

“Don’t blame you,” Shen Qingqiu says. “Humans suck.”

Luo Binghe nods again. “Yeah.” Then, with more conviction, “Yeah, they do.”

Shen Qingqiu smiles. The scent of jasmine becomes so overpowering then, so intoxicating, cracks form on the edge of the counter where Luo Binghe’s claws have dug in.