I, Long Qi, am destined for greatness.
I have a cool and aloof master who treats me very well. He gives me spiritual treasures and saves my life.
Once, I deliberately got badly injured.
I saw my master kneeling in front of the hall.
A tall, stern man looked down at him.
He asked softly, "This is the first time you've knelt before me since you became his master. And it's for him?"
A handsome, domineering top who's a lovesick stalker in private × a beautiful, delicate bottom who's cool and aloof in public but stubborn in private.
A medium-length short story. The setting is completely made up, and the main text is in third person.
Long Qi is a cannon-fodder character, not a cannon-fodder top. He's just part of the play.
Angsty misunderstandings, no one talks things out, barely any plot, and a depraved work where the little head controls the big one. Though it seems the big head may have taken back control as I kept writing.
Don't read this if you have extreme shipping preferences or can't tolerate ships being dismantled or reversed. I'm just a shipper with vulgar tastes. Seeing those kinds of comments would make me die of embarrassment.
Theme: The west wind blows into the Moon Palace.
