After recovering, Yahweh still felt lingering fear and wanted to stay in his room to rest. He enjoyed peace and quiet, but that didn’t mean Lucifer did too. As soon as Yahweh closed his eyes, Lucifer carried him outside. The cold wind blew on Yahweh, making him turn his face away. He hid his cheek against Lucifer's warm chest, breathing in small, shallow breaths.
“It’s snowing, Yahweh,” Lucifer said gently, looking at the silver-haired beauty dressed in a seraph’s robe in his arms. The beauty’s waist and knees were weak.
Yahweh was puzzled. He did not understand why Lucifer cared so much.
“It’s just snow, isn’t it?”
“There’s no naturally falling snow in Heaven. This is probably the first heavy snow in the mortal realm in a decade.” Lucifer explained to Yahweh, stepping lightly on the snow without leaving a single footprint. He had never told anyone that he liked this kind of all-encompassing snowfall, which seemed capable of transforming the entire world in an instant.
Everywhere they looked was pure white, a flawless scene; even the small forest had turned into a snow-covered woodland.
It was like paradise on earth.
“No snow in Heaven?” The usually quiet Yahweh suddenly spoke during their stroll. “I remember there was a snowfall once in Heaven. It was a group event organized by the Seraphim, and you almost flooded the Ninth Heaven.” Moreover, the snow magic went out of control, flooding all the way up to his Grand Cathedral.
The blizzard had raged on for nearly a day.
Until, unable to bear it any longer, he stopped the snowfall himself.
Lucifer laughed instinctively, soft and nostalgic. “So, this part of history still remains.”
Hearing the tone of his voice, Yahweh felt a pang in his heart, his golden eyes lowered. What could he do? He was the one who erased the existence of "Lucifer," and he was the one who forced him to fall. Sacrificing one of his creations for the sake of the entire world was a choice any creator god should make, but the one he abandoned was Lucifer—the Morning Star he had once held at the highest point in Heaven.
“Luci.”
Yahweh felt the snowflakes falling onto his hair, chilling him to the core.
When Lucifer softly responded, Yahweh spoke almost inaudibly, “Do you hate God?”
Lucifer set Yahweh down, making him stand up straight rather than cling to his embrace. “Don’t ask such mood-killing questions.” No matter the time, Lucifer never wanted to discuss God. And whenever Yahweh insisted on probing these sensitive topics, Lucifer would dole out a certain measure of punishment.
“It’s cold.”
Yahweh stood barefoot in the snow, his toes curling up.
“You’re an angel.”
Lucifer tapped his forehead, troubled by Yahweh’s knack for learning to rely on him so naturally.
Yahweh saw that Lucifer was unmoved and could only disperse the chill with his own power. Flicking his sleeve, he turned and stepped out onto the snow, heading away. Lucifer noted Yahweh’s irritation with a smile and followed him, admiring the sacred beauty of the silver-haired figure merging with the snowy landscape.
Yahweh always carried an otherworldly elegance. Even his rare moments of irritation seemed more refined than those of other angels. This unique quality was something Lucifer deeply admired.
“Crack—”
Something crunched under Yahweh’s foot as he passed by.
Lucifer said with a grin, “Yahweh, you stepped on the mimosa flower.”
Yahweh’s face immediately flushed red.
The mimosa was a plant that had sprouted from his union with Lucifer. Though the implications made Yahweh avert his gaze, it was indeed a symbol of their bond.
Gathering a bit of life energy at his fingertips, Yahweh bent down to heal the bent mimosa. Just as he lingered briefly, Lucifer’s arm wrapped around his waist, his fingers gently lifting the silver strands that had fallen into the snow with a grace that was both elegant and affectionate. “Yahweh, watch your step. I’ve planted quite a few Hell’s flowers here.”
“Would you let them take advantage of me?” Yahweh retorted.
“Can’t bear to let go.” Lucifer’s hand slid from Yahweh’s waist down to his thigh. After a night of intimacy, Yahweh’s body had become much more sensitive and couldn’t withstand Lucifer’s teasing. Yahweh’s body softened, and his temper naturally followed, becoming gentler. Suddenly, even the snowy landscape around him didn’t seem as vexing.
“I don’t like snow,” Yahweh said, leaning against Lucifer’s chest.
Snow was too filthy—it could cover filth but could never purify it.
“Luci, I like the stars.” Yahweh raised his gaze to look into Lucifer’s eyes. His golden pupils were bright like mirrors, reflecting his soul. “I like you, as the child of the stars.” He wrapped his arms around the black-haired Satan’s neck, his hands sliding to touch the base of Lucifer’s wings. This spot was one that only a god could touch, but now Yahweh could touch it, too.
“Why no reaction?” Yahweh asked, puzzled.
He remembered that, in the past, whenever he lightly touched the base of Lucifer’s wings, Lucifer’s face would go completely red, overcome with shyness.
Lucifer looked at him with a faint smile. “You…”
His dark eyes grew deeper.
Lucifer captured Yahweh’s lips, gently grinding against them. As Yahweh’s hands caressed Lucifer’s sensitive spot, Lucifer couldn’t hold back his embrace, wanting nothing more than to merge Yahweh into his own body to find release. Yahweh felt Lucifer’s sudden surge of passion and slowly realized he had sparked Lucifer’s desire.
Yahweh wanted to escape from the flood of passion engulfing him, but suddenly, something crept up his ankle.
Thin, dark vines began to wind around him, tickling lightly.
Small buds appeared at the vine’s knots, blooming into rich, red flowers that slowly unfurled with a fragrant display. The vines coiled around Yahweh’s ankles, his calves, his knees, and continued to climb, reaching his thighs. Their soft thorns retracted, adding an unexpected allure to his legs beneath his robes.
Flustered by Lucifer’s playful interest, Yahweh stammered, “Get rid of them!”
He couldn’t lift his feet; the vines’ strength exceeded his expectations, clearly the result of special cultivation.
With a playful smile, Lucifer blinked innocently, mimicking Yahweh’s usual demeanor. “They’re very well-behaved; they won’t hurt you.” The vines seemed to respond to Satan’s praise, twisting shyly before sprouting a new tendril that slipped beneath Yahweh’s robe, giving Satan a view of the blossoms of love they had bloomed for him and his queen.
Yahweh: “…”
As expected, everything in Hell is truly cut from the same cloth!
After this small tease, Lucifer finally released the vines, coaxing the sulking Yahweh back into a good mood.
This overwhelmingly sweet display of affection was something unimaginable to both Heaven and Hell. In Heaven’s view, Lucifer had likely seduced Yahweh only as a passing novelty, with no possibility of genuine feeling; while in Hell’s view, His Majesty Satan could have any beauty he desired and would naturally return to Hell once he tired of this one.
Unexpectedly, both sides shared the same thought: there was no future for Lucifer and Yahweh.
Yahweh could hear the voices of all living things, so he knew what both Heaven and Hell thought of his relationship with Lucifer. However, he didn’t believe that he and Lucifer would ever part. Since fate had brought Lucifer to love him, why should he give up this genuine feeling and return to being the God who felt neither joy nor sorrow?
“Luci, my stomach still hurts,” he said softly.
Back inside the room, Yahweh lay on Lucifer’s lap, the warmth from the fireplace seeping into his heart. In these small matters, Lucifer completely indulged him.
"Where else does it hurt? I'll help you rub it." Lucifer’s voice dropped to a rough murmur as he massaged Yahweh’s abdomen. “How about lower? Does it hurt there?” His hand had already slid down to rest on Yahweh’s hips, poised to massage wherever Yahweh needed—if he would just say the word.
Yahweh went silent.
There was indeed a lingering ache, but there was no way he could let Lucifer, with such questionable intentions, touch him there!
Lucifer withdrew his hand and, nibbling on Yahweh’s ear, whispered, “Yahweh, you’re always wary at the wrong times.”
Yahweh buried himself under the blankets, refusing to respond.
Lucifer was becoming more shameless by the day!
Still feeling a mixture of joy and frustration, Yahweh returned to Heaven the next day. He stood before the various bottles and jars in his palace, staring blankly for a moment. Besides the contraceptives, Messiah had discreetly added a few jars of prenatal supplements along with dietary recommendations.
Yahweh’s gaze turned complicated. Since when did his devout follower Messiah start concerning himself with his private life?
Had he, as a god, failed somehow?
Depressed, Yahweh disappeared from the palace of the Seraphim and reappeared in front of the throne of the cathedral. When he sat down, the joy, anger, sorrow and happiness in his eyes gradually faded, and his expression became indifferent. The Book of Genesis jumped on his knees and curiously asked God about his experience in the past few days.
God said: "Nothing, it snowed on earth."
"Really?" The Book of Genesis sniffed at him, and no one knew where a book got its sense of smell. After a while, it patted God's belly with the cover paper, and received God's cold eyes. The Book of Genesis denied God's words: "Impossible, the smell of Lucifer on you is getting stronger and stronger."
God's eyes stagnated, [Lucifer’s scent?]
"I don't belong to any living being."
"Ah, I know, you just accidentally gave your body away again." The Book of Genesis looked at God indulgently, and the words were written on the paper, "How does Lucifer treat you? Has he fallen in love with you from head to toe? My noble and beautiful God, you look so touching now, love nourishes you."
God: "..."
The effect of flattering the horse's leg is a "whoosh", and the Book of Genesis presents a parabola and falls into the Great Saint Pool next to it.
With a gurgle, it struggled in vain and sank to the bottom of the water.
[Help! ]
Without the noise brought by the Book of Genesis, God subconsciously pressed his lower abdomen, frowned, and doubts appeared on his expressionless face. Logically speaking, Lucifer had helped him clean up, and he had also purified himself, so why did he always feel pain?
The result of its flattery missing the mark was a swift “whoosh” as the Book of Genesis was sent flying in a graceful arc before landing in the nearby Sacred Pool.
With a gurgle, it sank to the bottom, helpless.
[Save Me!]
Without the Book of Genesis’s noisy interference, Yahweh instinctively pressed a hand to his lower abdomen, his brow furrowing. His expression remained emotionless, but a hint of doubt crossed his face. By all logic, Lucifer had helped him thoroughly clean up, and he had purified himself as well, so why was there still this persistent ache?
This strange feeling had lasted for quite some time, troubling Yahweh to the point that he’d lost all interest in descending to the mortal realm. Feeling unwell, his avatar Yahweh also appeared spiritless, which caused the Seraphim in Heaven great concern. After evading rounds of inquiries, Yahweh instructed Messiah to handle the well-meaning questions and chose to sit alone in the grand cathedral, seeking calm.
One day, when Yahweh noticed that Lucifer had been waiting for him in the mortal realm, he could no longer suppress his curiosity and consulted the Law.
“Law, did I purify the darkness too late?”
[No.]
“Then what is the reason?”
[Do you really not know?]
“What?”
[Lord, you are pregnant.]
“…”
Almost the instant the Law transmitted its answer in that distinct, resonant tone, Yahweh’s expression froze as though struck by lightning.