Chapter Text
Xi Jiao, the peak of beasts, is never quiet.
As they finally arrive at the mountain, they in turn pass those leaving for their own missions. Horse hooves clip-clop against the path which leads to the outside. Above that, there is the sound of sheep and cows, even the cry of birds of prey used for hunting and scouting.
Not that Shen Yuan has gotten to see anything else but the horses; he has never had the time, nor permission, to go past the public stables. But he knows that if he channels qi to his ears to heighten his hearing, he will hear the other beasts. The ones unique to this world, and kept around for studying and for benefitting the sect. The ones not demonic enough to taint the natural spirituality of the mountain itself.
He bets they all look cool as fuck.
Shen Yuan sighs mournfully, gazing at the large gate blocking any trespassers. Lin Jie wiggles, peering over his shoulder to look at what he’s staring at, scrawny arms squeezing around Shen Yuan’s waist.
“One day,” Shen Yuan sighs.
“Or today,” Binghe says, riding closer, nudging one foot against Shen Yuan’s, “Zhangmen-shibo would allow it, if Yuan asked.”
“Yue-ge isn’t allowed to make decisions for other peaks,” he replies, nudging back, “and this one wouldn’t wish to intrude.”
“Liar,” Binghe says with a smile.
Lin Jie hisses.
“Yuan-ge isn’t a liar!”
I’m a little bit, Shen Yuan thinks, but only laughs and gives one of Lin Jie’s hands a pat. The boy grumbles, shoving his face against Shen Yuan’s back, scrubbing his little face against him. It’s cute, and reminds Shen Yuan of an aggressively cuddly cat. He holds back a coo, and instead promises himself to give Bao a proper treat for having been so patient on their way home.
Lin Jie is not a very good rider.
“The real question is,” Shen Yuan says as they steer towards the stables, “where to deliver our findings. The… heads must be delivered to Qing Jing Peak. But the mimic is a different question. They will want to have it brought here eventually, but does Binghe think Shizun will prefer to have it delivered to our peak first, or to save time by delivering it directly?”
“It is Shizun,” Binghe points out, which…
Fair enough.
“We can pretend we don’t know that,” Shen Yuan insists, looking at the chaos all around them. Xi Jiao Peak may never be quiet, but this is a new high. It makes sense; horses and carriages must be looked over for any flaws before the Immortal Alliance Conference, and all the slain beasts and produce must be processed before half of the peak leaves for the festivities.
It’s probably just as crazy at Qing Jing Peak.
If nothing else, Ming Fan would be grateful if they just left the mimic here. If it means that Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t get to see how big it and its fangs are, and then be all weird about it, then isn’t that simply a win-win?
Of course, Qing Jing Peak isn’t as messy, nor as loud, as Xi Jiao Peak.
“Luo-shixiong!”
Speaking of loud.
The delighted chorus of female voices interrupt them right as they reach the stables. Like a swarm, the girls of Xi Jiao Peak descend upon them; grabbing the reins of each horse, as if they can’t be trusted to lead Bao and Lotus to the stalls themselves.
Of course, all of the girls surround Binghe. Even the one who snatched Bao’s reins from Shen Yuan’s hands is walking as close to Binghe as she possibly can. To them, Shen Yuan and Lin Jie don't exist. Which is cool. Totally expected and not at all infuriating. Shen Yuan quietly gives Lin Jie the last of their travel rations, the boy happily accepting them by stuffing his mouth full.
The girls’ voices are loud enough to give any sane man a headache. Shen Yuan tries to tug the rein away from the girl, but her grip is iron. He doesn’t glower or glare at that; all Shen Yuan can do is resign himself to his fate, lean back and try his best to not listen as all the girls pester Binghe about how he is and what he’s been up to and is he free later?
Every fucking time.
“Is Luo-shixiong going to enter the competition?” one girl asks as Shen Yuan gets off of Bao, reaching to help Lin Jie as well, just in case. The boy lands steady, one hand quick to grab onto Shen Yuan’s sleeve, like a child scared to lose their mother. He smiles and wipes away a crumb from the boy’s mouth, before reaching for their luggage.
“This one intends to compete, yes,” Binghe says, and the girls all squeal. Shen Yuan jumps, nearly dropping the box which contains the tea pets. He winces at the clatter he hears from inside, and prays they’re as sturdy as they appeared.
“I’m as well!” one girl with a forgettable face says, excitedly latching onto Binghe’s arm when the other boy gets off of Lotus, “perhaps we will run into each other during it!”
“This one is also competing,” Shen Yuan says, totally not bitchy, alright, he’s just a little annoyed because they’re all in the fucking way, making it impossible to push past them, taking up time they don’t have, “Binghe, can you carry this while I take the books?”
“Of course, Yuan,” Binghe replies, slipping away from the girls with envious ease, shrugging them off like it’s no problem at all. Ah, he has had so much experience with it now. These days, girls and even women tend to flock around him at a moment’s notice!
As if they have any chance at all; Shen Yuan never meets any whose names were mentioned in the original.
“Thank you,” he says, their fingers brushing as he passes the box onto Binghe. “I don’t want to drop it.”
“Are many from Qing Jing Peak entering?” another girl asks, heartshaped face and big, brown eyes that are disturbingly wet looking, “is Luo-shixiong nervous?”
“This one is excited to compete alongside my martial siblings,” Binghe smoothly replies, sidestepping one girl’s attempt to latch onto him.
“I’m going too,” Lin Jie says.
“No you’re not,” Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe say in unison.
“You’re not,” Liu Qingge agrees, and Shen Yuan doesn’t scream. He only makes a sound and barely manages to avoid dropping the bag of books, fumbling before he just hugs them close to his chest, one arm still held hostage by Lin Jie’s hands.
Liu Qingge stares at them, a furrow between his brows as he does so. Shen Yuan feels himself stiffen, however, at the sight of the other person beside him.
“This one greets Tang-shishu and Liu-shishu,” Binghe says, and Shen Yuan hurries to echo the words, managing a stiff bow. Tang Qingling grins at them, and then laughs when Lin Jie snaps his teeth at her.
“Ah, always so fierce,” she teases, elbowing Liu Qingge, “see, I told Liu-shixiong that he would be here! The little one is always near Xiao-Yuan, isn’t he?”
Shen Yuan smiles. It doesn’t feel natural at all, but then again, it never does when around the peak lords he hardly knows. His spine feels as rigid as a steel rod, posture the kind of perfection that Shen Qingqiu always tries to whack into him and Binghe both, fan constantly poking at their lower backs.
It’s not that he is scared or anything. In these past years, ever since Shen Qingqiu first allowed him to take on night hunts, he has run into Tang Qingling plenty of times. She has always been cheerful, never cruel, always quick to tease them both for harmless things, such as Yue Qingyuan’s name for Shen Yuan. And besides that, Shen Yuan and Binghe are both taller than her by now. Not a hard thing to accomplish, considering her height, but still.
Shen Yuan isn’t scared. He only wants to show proper respect, that’s all. Which is hard to do, with a group of rabid Binghe-fangirls nearby. Obviously.
At least this will save time when it comes to the mimic.
“This one actually wished to speak with Tang-shishu,” he says, and when Lin Jie lets go of his sleeve to wrap his arms around Shen Yuan’s waist, he uses his freed hand to reassuringly stroke the boy’s hair, “we found an unusual beast on our way back from our night hunt, and would like for Xi Jiao Peak to examine it when there is time.”
“Ohhh?” Tang Qingling perks up, stepping closer, “tell this master more! And you,” she points at the girls, “perform your duties! These horses need care, not gawkers. Go on! Shoo! You can admire disciple Luo at a later time!”
The girls erupt into giggles like a flock of tittering birds, hurrying to do as they are told. Soon enough, the three of them are left alone with the two peak lords.
“So? Shen-shizhi, tell this master more about this unusual beast.”
“It was a mutated mimic,” Binghe says, stepping forward. Tang Qingling’s dark eyes move from Shen Yuan to him, her grin not once faltering, “though Lin-shidi also killed a blobheaded blue-tongued hound. We kept them in separate bags.”
“How very impressive for such a little thing! Or did the two of you help your shidi?” Tang Qingling asks.
“A-Jie did it all by himself,” Shen Yuan says, “he’s very talented.”
“He is not allowed to accept missions alone,” Liu Qingge says, glowering now at Lin Jie who, Shen Yuan notes, is stubbornly hiding behind him. Not, he thinks, out of fear. Rather it’s stubborn petulance. “Nor leave the sect. Lin Jie. Here.”
He says it like Lin Jie is a dog, a command to heel. Shen Yuan frowns at him before he knows it, and hurries to look polite once more.
By Tang Qingling’s laughter, he thinks he failed.
Lin Jie, of course, does not obey.
“Ah, it never grows old,” Tang Qingling laughs, “the War God of our sect, disobeyed by a child! Shen-shixiong must think it is terribly funny, hm? Perhaps one day this master will see him smile because of it!”
Liu Qingge huffs and before anyone can blink, he has scruffed Lin Jie. The boy snarls and kicks out, and Shen Yuan makes an aborted move to yank him back.
Binghe is the one who catches his hand, gently lowering it.
“Process the hound,” he tells Tang Qingling. Looks the two of them over, eyes scanning for whatever, before he offers a nod of approval. “Be well,” he stiffly says, and promptly leaves.
“I hope A-Jie won’t be punished too harshly,” Shen Yuan mumbles, staring after them, Liu Qingge’s broad shoulders quickly disappearing in the crowd.
He feels bereft. Three days of travel, of Lin Jie constantly shadowing him, pale hands always clutching at some part of Shen Yuan clothes. And now he’s been whisked away, hissing and spitting the whole time.
It always happens. But it’s fine; Lin Jie will be fine, and besides, Binghe is still there. Giving his hand a squeeze before letting go. They may not get along, but if there was actual cause to be worried–
Then Binghe would help.
“Come along now,” Tang Qingling says, “let us see these beasts!”
Shen Yuan breathes, before he and Binghe follow.
Yue Qingyuan is fond of the bamboo house.
It is small. One of the smaller houses provided for peak lords, and a far cry from the place in which he himself resides. There are no empty rooms, no echoing halls. It still held a cold edge to it when he visited in the past; he had known, back then, that he had not been welcome. That none had been allowed to linger within those walls, guests prohibited and disciples barely tolerated.
These days it is different.
A warmth has soaked through the very foundation of the bamboo house. Spreading like a blooming flower’s petals, softening what once was sharp. Yue Qingyuan cannot stare at the man before him, and so he instead lets his eyes wander as tea is poured, refilling two cups a second time since he first arrived.
From where he sits, he can barely catch a glimpse of the small kitchen. Cups and bowls placed to dry, glass jars half-full with tea and spices. Labels written in neither Xiao-Jiu’s nor Xiao-Yuan’s hand, but instead the careful brushstrokes of Luo Binghe. Yue Qingyuan’s eyes wander further, taking in the room he’s in.
Nearly every wall is covered in shelves and paintings. There are invaluable artifacts and gems crowding against amateur woodcarvings; at the table remains a book. Before Shen Qingqiu had slammed it shut and shoved it to the side, it had been left on a page about fish demons. A rushed attempt to research before two boys left for their night hunt, always in a hurry.
“When do Qingqiu-shidi think the boys will return?” Yue Qingyuan asks, and takes a sip of his tea. A tangy sweetness coats his tongue, the warmth soothing his throat. Blackberries and a drop of honey. Xiao-Jiu is the one who poured it and generously allowed the honey; only Yue Qingyuan knows that the man before him hates the taste of it.
For a moment, he allows himself to believe the honey is kept here for his own visits. It is a selfish wish, and one he knows cannot be true. Still he lets himself linger on it, warmth spreading through his core at the thought.
“Yesterday, if they were not distracted by some nonsense again,” Shen Qingqiu replies with a huff, “as they are obviously still not here, the answer is clear.”
Green meets his; Shen Qingqiu’s eyes narrow.
“The brats would be less distracted if they had no coin to spare,” he pointedly says, “a waste, to give disciple Shen any at all.”
Yue Qingyuan smiles.
“This one apologizes to Shidi," he says.
Shen Qingqiu scoffs, turning his face away. The sunlight shining through the window makes his skin glow. A branch’s shadow against his cheek, the impression of leaves barely brushing against the corner of his lips. Yue Qingyuan holds the warm cup of tea between his hands, and does not allow his eyes to stray from the other’s eyes. They gleam like emeralds in the sunlight.
“Is Shixiong aware that the brat does not even use half of it?” Xiao-Jiu asks, putting his own cup down with a click, “hiding it away like a demented squirrel all over the house. Stop spoiling him.”
“This one must praise disciple Shen for being so responsible,” Yue Qingyuan says, and chuckles when Shen Qingqiu scoffs again.
“Responsible,” he says with disgust, “the implication that anyone on this mountain is aware of the word’s mere existence is idiotic.”
“Qingqiu is very responsible.”
“Someone has to be.”
“Qingqiu is always reliable.”
This time, his friend says nothing. He only stares at him, narrow eyed and suspicious, before taking a pointed sip of his tea. For what reason it is pointed, Yue Qingyuan does not know. When Xiao-Jiu then takes a nut and cracks it between his teeth in an equally pointed way, Yue Qingyuan has to hold back a laugh.
“You look stupid,” Shen Qingqiu says immediately.
“This one thanks Shidi for his honesty.”
“Of course. Qi-ge has always looked stupid.”
Yue Qingyuan drops the cup. Tea spills across the table. The cup does not break; he had not managed to raise it high. He stares, but Shen Qingqiu’s face is now half-hidden by a fan. It is white, painted with bold strokes of bamboo and birds. Yue Qingyuan’s hand is still in the air. Breath caught in his throat. Shen Qingqiu’s eyes meet his own in a brief snap of a moment, before they flick away in dismissal.
The very tip of Xiao-Jiu’s ears are red.
“Xiao-”
The door opens, and Shen Qingqiu quickly turns his head towards it. Yue Qingyuan is slow to follow, eyes lingering even as he turns to see who has entered the house. His mind is utterly blank. He blinks.
“Xiao-Yuan,” he says, and Shen Yuan’s bright smile greets him in turn. Luo Binghe closes the door behind them, offering a bow even as Shen Yuan excitedly steps forward.
“Yue-ge!” he exclaims, glancing towards Shen Qingqiu, only to blanch at what he sees, “ah, Shizun! This one greets Shizun!”
“You’re late,” Shen Qingqiu says. He snaps the fan closed and points it towards the spilled tea, darkening and staining the table. “Clean this up.”
Shen Yuan’s own green eyes narrow in suspicion, so similar to Shen Qingqiu’s. He glares at the older man, bristling.
“We’re not late! We are early! And did Shizun throw-”
“Ah, it was this one who caused it,” Yue Qingyuan cuts in, grasping at the fraying threads of control, desperately trying to not look towards Xiao-Jiu and the lips that said Qi-ge, for he does not know what he may do if he does, what he might say, “so certainly this one should clean his own mess.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Shen Qingqiu snaps, “Zhangmen-shixiong should not do such a lowly task. Disciple Luo, put down that box and clean the table.”
“Why must Binghe do it? This one is capable!”
“You’re not.”
“This one will handle it,” Luo Binghe says before Shen Yuan can retaliate, face flushed and glaring furiously at Shen Qingqiu, “Yuan, here,” and the wooden box is gently placed in his hands instead.
It is an obvious distraction. Yue Qingyuan lowers his hand, realizing he had yet to do so. He tucks both of them under the table, clasping them together. There is a fine tremble.
“Such a relief, to find that one disciple is capable of being respectful,” Shen Qingqiu says, sarcasm thick.
“Well, this disciple brought souvenirs,” Shen Yuan snaps back, “gifts for Shizun! Is that not a show of respect?”
“With that tone?” Shen Qingqiu replies, unimpressed, “this master should make disciple Shen run until he can’t.”
He then looks to Yue Qingyuan and grows as still as a statue. Their eyes lock. There is a rushing sound in his ears, his heart turning painful with how hard it beats within. Yue Qingyuan swallows.
Shen Qingqiu slams his hands on the table and stands up.
“Zhangmen-shixiong is busy,” he bites out, “he should leave.”
“Of course,” Yue Qingyuan says, and never has he felt as clumsy as he does now, rising to his feet. “This one thanks Shidi for the company.”
“Yue-ge is leaving now?”
“Your Shizun is correct in that I’m busy,” Yue Qingyuan says, even as he wants to stay. Shen Yuan’s frown nearly convinces him, but he cannot stay any longer. He wishes to stay as much as he wishes to hide away, mind a whirl of Qi-ge, Qi-ge, Qi-ge. “This one will ensure to spend time with Xiao-Yuan soon. Truly.”
He manages a smile.
“Perhaps Xiao-Yuan could call this one gege then.”
The boy blushes.
“I’m seventeen now,” he protests, before thrusting the box forward, an endearing attempt at distraction, “and- and this is not only a gift for Shizun! This is a gift for Yue-ge as well. And… the rest of the Peak Lords. So surely Yue-ge can stay, Shizun, only for a little bit-”
“How kind. Then there is no harm in showing them all at the same time, is there?” Shen Qingqiu cuts him off.
Where is he looking? Towards Yue Qingyuan? The window? Perhaps he is glaring at Shen Yuan, with how the boy falters. Yue Qingyuan cannot turn his head to see for himself. Instead he forces himself to focus on the boy before him. Xiao-Yuan has grown well. He is as tall as Shen Qingqiu now, or nearly. It is not something any has dared to point out.
Luo Binghe returns with a wet cloth, kneeling by the table to wipe it clean. He is careful as he moves the teacups out of the way. Soft clinking of porcelain accompanying Shen Yuan’s stuttered protests. Protests which were swiftly cut down by Shen Qingqiu.
“What disciple Shen should be doing is reporting to this master.”
Yue Qingyuan does not remember what he says next. He knows he must have offered a polite goodbye, that he must have left the green hills of Qing Jing Peak, for he blinks and Qiong Ding’s courtyard is suddenly before him. Harried masters hurrying to speak with him, scrolls in hand.
I’m Qi-ge, he thinks dazedly, and accepts a scroll.
Shen Yuan wonders if the stripe of white upon Ming Fan’s head has somehow grown wider. The guy looks exhausted. Fatigued. Like someone wrung him out of any joy to be found.
His hair, usually neatly tied into a simple bun, has an errant cowlick that escaped containment. His eyebags have their own bags, and they would like to check into their room, please. The scar that pulls his lips down into a frown does not help.
They run into him after a narrow escape from Shen Qingqiu and on their way to the food hall. He is shuffling scrolls around in his arms to make room for another, which Heng He is handing over.
“Heng-shixiong,” Binghe greets, and receives a small nod in return.
“Ah,” Ming Fan sighs, “you’re back.”
“Da-shixiong sounds so happy about it,” Shen Yuan replies, and resists the temptation to rest one arm on the other’s shoulder, just to remind Ming Fan that he is very obviously the taller one here.
If Shen Yuan leans on him now, he suspects their poor Da-shixiong might fold like a deck of cards. He looks horrid. Has he even slept since they left? Just once? It doesn’t seem like it!
“I’m too busy to be happy!” Ming Fan complains, “and Xiao-Shimei is- well, she is very! A lot! Very rude of you two, to leave her behind!”
“We did not! She was away on a mission too, with some girls from Xian Shu Peak!” Shen Yuan protests, “if anything, she left us behind!”
Sure, it was a good thing! They couldn’t risk experimenting with talismans around her, not when the whole goal was to hide Binghe’s sealed heritage, and if they actually did find the fish necklace, it was for the best if she wasn’t there to see how they were not returning it to the sect.
Their Shijie is great, but she just cannot keep a secret.
“Not for that,” Ming Fan huffs, moving past them, “for the conference. Augh, this one has no time for this, I must deliver these to Shizun!”
“Good luck.”
“Wha- what is with that tone?” Ming Fan whirls back around, squinting at them, “what did you two do this time? Shidis only just returned!”
“Shizun is simply in a bad mood,” Binghe says, all casual innocence, “we don’t have to be the cause, Da-shixiong.”
“He was in a good mood last when this one saw him!” Ming Fan looks haunted. Shen Yuan almost feels guilty, but really, it wasn’t their fault this time. Okay, maybe a little bit of Shen Yuan’s, but Shen Qingqiu started it, the bastard. And he’s pretty sure Shen Qingqiu threw tea at Yue Qingyuan, anyway! Yue-ge is just too nice to admit it! “Ah, this one can’t waste more time! Xiao-Shimei is eating, go join her.”
And with that he hurries off, a barely dignified jog up the stairs. They stare after him. Shen Yuan wonders if he should offer a prayer for his health. Can a head disciple with a golden core die from overwork? That’s probably something he should ask Mu Qingfang, next time he sees him.
“Is Heng-shixiong joining Da-shixiong?” Binghe asks.
“No,” Heng He shakes his head, “this one shall visit Qian Cao Peak.”
“Is Shixiong injured?”
“Luo-shidi should not worry, this one is well. It is only our peak which needs to restock our medicinal supplies, due to the many night hunts lately.” Heng He nods towards the food hall. “You two should hurry, before they stop serving food.”
“Ah, of course. Good luck, Shixiong!” Shen Yuan says, grabbing Binghe’s hand to tug him along.
The hall is packed.
The day is truly conspiring against them, he thinks, as they load up their trays with as much food as two growing teenage boys can get away with. First Binghe’s fangirls tried to burst their eardrums, then Liu Qingge jumpscared them and kidnapped Lin Jie, followed by Tang Qingling having a whole fit about the (admittedly rare) mimic they brought in, then she tried to seduce them by offering to let them stay for the butchering of it which was, like, clearly an attempt to poach them both for nefarious purposes and it physically hurt to say no, and then they got yelled at by Shen Qingqiu for bullshit reasons and only barely managed to escape the punishment of running about five billion laps around the peak, missing out on tea time with Yue Qingyuan.
And now they couldn’t find anywhere to sit.
“Fuck, wasn’t A-Ying meant to be here?” Shen Yuan says, only to squawk when a passing master swats him for the language, forcing the both of them to shuffle into a corner for safety.
“Shijie could have gone outside to eat,” Binghe replies, “especially if she is as upset as Ming Fan said.”
“He didn’t say she was upset…”
Binghe gives him a look. Shen Yuan winces.
“The pond?” he suggests, and Binghe nods.
It’s a relief to leave the loud hall behind.
“Shizun said no.”
Those are the first words Ning Yingying says when they find her. The words are accompanied with her stabbing her chopsticks into a piece of meat, skewering it right through before taking an angry bite.
Chen Xiaoling tries to look just as angry as Ning Yingying does. Her round apple-cheeks and cute pigtails and too-many ribbons in her hair makes it impossible. For a moment, her pout breaks into a smile upon seeing them. Only for a moment, however; then she looks back at Ning Yingying and tries to copy the older girl’s expression again. He has to bite back a laugh at it.
Shen Yuan sits down on the other side of Ning Yingying. Binghe follows, shoulder bumping against Shen Yuan’s, before they settle.
“Said no to what?” he asks.
“The competition! Shizun said I’m not allowed to join! I might not even get to go and watch, A-Yuan!”
“That’s stupid,” he says, “Shijie has gone on plenty of night hunts. Did Shizun say why?”
“He only said no,” Ning Yingying whines.
He and Binghe exchange a look.
It’s not that much of a surprise. Ning Yingying wasn’t there in the original, he’s pretty sure. Memories of it are fuzzy, broad strokes of the plot, but Shen Yuan thinks he would remember if Ning Yingying had gone. But that Ning Yingying was different! She hardly ever left the mountain to do anything at all but trigger some clumsy wife plots!
Shen Qingqiu is a bastard who always bristles whenever Shen Yuan and Ning Yingying wish to take on a mission, but he hasn’t been able to fully stop them. Not yet. And Ning Yingying has improved! A lot! Whenever they keep their spars to swords only, she is most often the victor between the two of them. She has a mean kick, too. Many Bai Zhan disciples have experienced it.
She’s still Ning Yingying, but she is capable.
But Shen Qingqiu is Shen Qingqiu.
“It’s not too late to convince Shizun to change his mind,” Binghe says, “only a challenge.”
“When did Binghe become an optimist?”
“Whenever Shijie can’t be one,” Binghe replies, and smiles when Ning Yingying laughs.
“It’s probably because of all the boys that will be there,” Shen Yuan says, “A-Ying knows how Shizun is about all that.”
Honestly, the whole sect seemed split in the middle because of it! All the girls squealing over Binghe, all the boys drooling over Ning Yingying. He couldn’t even blame them. Binghe was Binghe. He had grown up to be a handsome young man, with thick, glossy hair and the kind of eyelashes that would make any woman jealous, and was both talented and polite.
Meanwhile Ning Yingying was truly blossoming into the kind of young woman that would trigger waifu-wars online. A bright smile, hair pulled into all kinds of cute styles, always ready to joke and laugh and hold out a helping hand. And her figure was- well-
“That’s not a good reason! Boys are silly and I have Mo Liqin,” Ning Yingying says, waving her sword around, the green ribbons tied around its pommel fluttering, “and the sisters of Xian Shu told me I could kill a lucky person with my boobs alone, Shizun has no reason to worry!”
Shen Yuan chokes on his spit; flails, nearly knocking his food to the ground as he tries to reach around his Shijie to cover Chen Xiaoling’s ears.
“A-Ying!”
“They said!”
“A lucky person- maybe Shijie shouldn’t hang around our Xian Shu sisters,” he says, face burning hot, “they might be a bad influence!” He didn’t even know girls could be a bad influence! Liu Mingyan lives there!
“Xiao-mei and I need more girls,” Ning Yingying argues back, threateningly snapping her chopsticks at him, “there’s none here!”
“We have a few-”
“They’re masters! Not disciples! All of our Shijies are doing boring stuff now, like teaching or- or going away on missions and not taking us with them! We need fun ones! Like the sisters of Xian Shu Peak.”
“Shijie is right,” Chen Xiaoling nods, “and Shijie should get to go to the- the competition! And me too!”
“No,” Binghe and Shen Yuan say, exchanging a fistbump in solidarity.
“Shimei is too young,” Binghe says, “Lin Jie isn’t going either.”
“And Lin Jie is definitely older than Shimei! He and you can go next time. Xiao-Shimei doesn’t even have a sword yet.”
Ning Yingying perks up.
“Did Shidi run into the little ghost again? Oh! Wait, how did the hunt go? My hunt went great, we had to go and hunt down these giant butterflies with jewels on their wings and they spat acid and–”
It’s nice to be home.
Shen Yuan nods along, absently touching the mimic’s scale hidden in his pocket. The edge of it is rounded. A creature that had never been seen before, Tang Qingling had said. There had been F-points every time she inspected a new part of it.
If they could slay a beast that had never been seen before, then Ning Yingying should be able to go to the conference, no matter what the original plot used to be.
They just need a little help.
An Ding Peak is always busy.
It is a place of never ending movement; of cart wheels rolling across meticulous roads, of disciples sweeping and cleaning and carrying large boxes. There is always the sound of hammering, people building whatever the sect needs. Everything is carefully arranged to run as efficiently as possible, the backbone of Cang Qiong Mountain.
The Immortal Alliance Conference is like a stick poking an anthill.
It’s chaos.
Perhaps if he was part of An Ding Peak, Shen Yuan would see some order in it. But as it is, he’s been back home for one week and only just managed to slip away to visit this place. He has narrowly escaped becoming road kill five times already, nearly got bludgeoned by a giant log being hauled about, has tripped over several little disciples trying their very fucking best to survive the horrors, and has had to inch around five arguments that looked seconds away from swords being drawn.
Shen Yuan only managed to get to Airplane’s house now.
“What the fuck is going on in your peak,” he says as he climbs through the window, “I should’ve flown here! I’m pretty sure Master Wang was about to stab Master Wu? Also, your couriers need a driver’s license!”
Shang Qinghua throws a scroll at him.
“Give that to Mu Qingfang,” he says, wild-eyed and wide-eyed, nearly bug-eyed on top of that and possibly cross-eyed if Shen Yuan squints, “also why the fuck do you never use the door!?”
“Because your door is for plebs,” Shen Yuan says, tucking the scroll away, and wow. Just wow. Airplane’s house has never been neat, sure, but it has quickly become a labyrinth of piles of just. Work. “And I have never used your door. Dude, when did you sleep last?”
“Sleep! I only just sat! Oh, I bet you get plenty of sleep!” Airplane yells, stamping paper after paper at such speeds that there’s no way he is reading it all, “fucking Qing Jing Peak! Ask Shen Qingqiu why he needs material for ten guqins. Why ten! Why now! Does he know how long it takes to get the material for them to be up to his insane standards!? FUCK!”
“I’m going to feed your tea pet until you calm down,” Shen Yuan says, because he can see the porcelain bunny, and he wants to. He needs to.
Shen Qingqiu hasn’t let him pour tea on the ox even once. Shen Yuan is sure it’s out of spite. Shen Qingqiu pours tea on it before he even pours Shen Yuan a cup. Bastard. It looks so cute, too, but Shen Yuan hasn’t even gotten to touch it.
Shen Qingqiu smacks his hands away when he tries.
“No, no, c’mon, bro, if you’re here it means something, please I need a break. Like right now. C’mon tell me, tell me. What is it? Huh? Gay woes? I have gay woes. Do you know how long it’s been since I got my dick wet, fuuuck- ow!”
“Shut up!” Shen Yuan says, waving his fan threateningly, face burning hot, “I’ll fucking bludgeon your head in! Gross!”
“Do it! Do it! I dare you! The only escape from this hell is the sweet release of death!”
Shen Yuan whacks him again.
It devolves from there.
“I win,” Shen Yuan declares after a particularly brutal blow, where he managed to pinch Airplane’s ear in between the fan’s wooden frame, “so now you gotta help me.”
“Eugh,” Airplane says, “euughhh. With what?”
“You need to convince Shen Qingqiu to let Ning Yingying come to the conference.”
“What.”
“Or make someone else convince him! I know he wouldn’t listen to you, but surely you can do something. I can’t do it, he will just say no even harder!”
“Bro,” Shang Qinghua says, staring blankly at him, “why would you want Ning Yingying there? She’s not meant to be there. Why would it matter?”
“Because she wants to be there, and she deserves to,” Shen Yuan says, even though–
“She could die???”
That.
Shen Yuan grips the fan harder. It does not crack or break, but the wood digs into his palm. It’s true. Ning Yingying could risk death, joining the Immortal Alliance Conference.
“Tell me more about the plan,” Shen Yuan says, sitting down, letting the tea rabbit sniff his hand, “the abyss one. When is it all going to start? Any changes from the plot? The more I know, the more- the more I can make sure A-Ying doesn’t die. Or Binghe gets- or that.”
Airplane groans and drags both hands across his face.
“Bro, I got no clue. It’s not like Mobei-Jun was the one opening the abyss! Shit will happen when it happens.”
“Wait- what? He didn’t?”
“No! That whole thing was an accident. Lots of… portal stuff and demon stuff, boom, tear in reality. You should know this, bro, it’s one of the few things you praised in the comments! I mean, obviously he’s badass enough to open one for a little bit, but not one that big!”
Shen Yuan looks at the bunny. Its nose is cold. He rubs its tiny little forehead, smoothing down the tiny little ears.
“So you don’t know when it will start,” he says instead.
“Well, it’s not like I plan to change anything, really,” Airplane says, pressing his head against the desk, muffling his words. There are two too many hairpins holding up his hair. ‘Holding up’ is a generous term. It’s falling apart as they speak. Shen Yuan has the absurd urge to fix it. “The demon stuff starts happening, then thirty chapters later my son loses his virginity before he gets thrown into hell by Shen Qingqiu. Or something. I think it was three days. Fuck. Was it a four?”
“You’re not helping,” Shen Yuan groans, “you wrote it! You should know!”
“Bro, I wrote so much. That’s like thousands of chapters dude! I can’t remember everything.”
“I don’t want to pay the fucking system to remember every detail,” Shen Yuan says, suspecting that’s exactly what he is going to have to do, “is there anything new you’re going to add? Anything at all! Anything I can use to at least make sure nothing bad happens to Ning Yingying? She’s the childhood friend-wife, she can’t die so early!”
“Bro, I’m more worried about you dying.”
“I won’t die!”
“Dude.”
“If I’m going to die, it won’t be at the conference! That’s too stupid and cliché and so overdone and oh fuck.”
“Right! It’s the perfect time for you to die!” Airplane bursts out, sitting back up, “just let Binghe get yeeted, bro! He will crawl back out!”
“Shut up.”
Silence. They stare at each other. Shen Yuan doesn’t know what face he is making. Doesn’t know what to do except stare at Airplane. The words felt like knives on his tongue. Cold and sharp. He doesn’t want to say them again. Can’t. Won’t. They might cut him instead.
Shang Qinghua squeezes his eyes shut, pinching his nose bridge.
“I’ll point out to Qi Qingqi that Qing Jing Peak got no girls this year to compete, I guess,” he finally says, “she’s always ready to goad him.”
Shen Yuan swallows, and realizes that his nails had been digging into his palms. He gingerly flexes his fingers. Forcing himself to relax, steadying his hands before he cradles the porcelain bunny in them. Forming a cave for it to crawl into. Hiding from the world.
“That might work,” he says.
“Though,” Shang Qinghua adds, “I think Mobei-Jun thinks you’re my heir.”
Shen Yuan blinks; looks up.
“Heir of what? Shit writing?” he asks, bewildered.
“Spying, obviously!”
“Why the fuck would I inherit spying? Why is he talking about me at all!?” They have met several times these past years, and it was the fucking worst! Mobei-Jun hadn’t tried to kill him yet, but Shen Yuan would never forget their first meeting. What followed it.
“I dunno bro, he said some shit. I mean not like he says a lot when he does deign to speak, but still. If I die, you might get him on your ass instead. Since, you know, he knows. About us.”
“You mean, he knows that I know that you’re a fucking spy.”
“Yeah, so, yeah. Inherit my debt, pleb.”
“If I’m going to spy for anyone, it will be Binghe,” Shen Yuan protests, “I’m sure he would need one for Huan Hua Palace! How did the sect leader there die again? I don’t want to waste any B-points on it.”
“Oh, my King killed him,” Airplane says, shoving a whole fist of nuts into his mouth, like a slob. “Ripped him apart.”
“Really? Wasn’t he a grandpa figure to Binghe, the wise old cultivator mentor? And he still let Mobei-Jun kill him?”
Airplane shrugs. Crunch, crunch, before finally he swallows.
“Yeah, but Mobei-Jun hates Huan Hua Palace the most of all sects, and Bingge made a promise. So bye, bye, old man. Obviously staged as an accident, since Little Palace Mistress is right there.”
“Huh.” Ruthless!
Shen Yuan’s eyes flick towards the System.
( B-Points: 5000
F-Points: 12700 )
He did need to know more. F-points were worth half as much when converted. So in total, he had… 11350 B-point. That wasn’t too bad. Not really. Maybe it would be alright, to spend some. Just a little. It wasn’t like he spent much of it since he joined the sect.
“Promise you’ll help Ning Yingying?”
“Still insane priority, but yeah, I promise. Like, I’ll help her get there, but I’m not making any promises when we get there, alright?”
Right. Good. That was good! She would be fine, obviously. She was an important character, and good at fighting. The only problem was Binghe’s seal, really. They hadn’t found the necklace. They had no clue if the talismans would work. Shen Qingqiu had no reason, yet, to throw Binghe down into the endless abyss. He didn’t hate Binghe in this timeline. Not like that. It might even be fine. But just in case…
Shen Yuan pulls out the mimic’s scale.
“Could you… check? If this helps hide a demon’s qi?” he asks, handing it over to Airplane, who accepts it with a scrunched up nose, “got it off of a mimic. I thought… maybe…” He looks back down at the rabbit. It stands up on its hindlegs, sniffing the air. Stomps one foot against the desk. Thud, thud.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Shang Qinghua says, examining it.
“I won’t,” Shen Yuan says.
It feels like a lie.
“Alright, let me check your health before I leave,” he says, clearing his throat, “Mobei-Jun didn’t hurt you again, did he?”
“Nah, I’m cool,” Shang Qinghua says, but does as told. It’s true, too. Shen Yuan only finds fatigue and a bruised shin. There are no broken bones, no bruised ribs, no loose teeth. It’s been two years since he last found any, but it’s still a surprise every time.
He wonders what changed.
Days pass, turning to weeks. He delivers supplies and scrolls, endures Shen Qingqiu’s nasty temper and has tea with Yue Qingyuan. Wei Qingwei still refuses to tell him about Fu Yue. Qi Qingqi shows up and makes comments which turns Shen Qingqiu’s foul mood even fouler.
Ning Yingying is allowed to join, and Ming Fan is forced to accompany her. It’s totally fine and not stressful at all, knowing that there’s going to be two new contestants running around.
The day before the conference, Shen Yuan lays in bed and stares at the blue window of the System. Binghe sleeps on the floor next to him, because Ning Yingying crawled through the window, demanding a sleepover and ending up in Binghe’s bed because of it. It’s not the first time. Normally he protests harder, knowing what people would say if they saw her. Now, he is too tired to worry about the rumors that will spread.
Shen Yuan stares at the System window.
He reaches for it. Scrolls through the shop, until he reaches the section on chapters. They are all neatly labeled with numbers and titles, some costing more than others. The one he wants is one of the more expensive ones. Because of course it is.
( Unlock Memory for 500 B-points? Yes/No )
He looks at Binghe.
Shen Yuan takes a deep breath, and clicks Yes.