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Chapter Text

In the week following the incident in which Luo Binghe managed to lose his jade amulet and Shen Yuan acquired it, Shen Yuan decided it was time to spend some of his free time testing out other abilities besides swordplay. Wielding a sword and using his qi in attacks had come to him instinctually. Some might say too well, given the gouge he’d accidentally left in the earth!

System, what other abilities do I have? That is, things that Shen Qingqiu should be able to do, that I should be a master of if I want to continue this charade successfully? I don’t suppose I have a character sheet or something to refer to?

[This System is happy to help! Host does not have a character sheet, but this System tracks his points totals! Shen Qingqiu is a master of the Four Arts required of any gentleman scholar! He can produce elegant calligraphy that expresses rhythm and movement within the characters, he is an able strategist at weiqi winning the majority of his matches, he is a talented and moving performer on both the guqin and guzheng earning the respect and admiration of his students and other listeners, and lastly is an accomplished painter on both rice-paper and silk.]

Ah! I’ll never pass if those things don’t come instinctually! The closest I have to experience with any of those is seven years of violin classes, and a string of losses playing weiqi on the computer!

[Host need not worry! Shen Qingqiu’s skills will become second nature to him after a little practice.]

So practice he did, devoting three days to secretively trialling his own abilities, in between teaching classes and covertly keeping an eye out for Luo Binghe, as much as he could without raising the System’s ire for OOC behaviour. While he couldn’t help the protagonist directly, he did manage to figure out a slight workaround to try, and called his head disciple to attend him.

“Ming Fan, I have heard a concerning rumour,” he said, affecting his best imitation of a disapproving elegant master. “One of my Hall Masters reported that the little beast has been skipping out on classes, claiming that he has too many chores to do. All lies, of course!”

Ming Fan looked discomforted, and Shen Yuan pretended not to notice his small shifting movements and darting eyes.

He let a disgusted sneer show on his face behind the fluttering of his fan. “I will not tolerate such false excuses about excessive chores! Ming Fan, as my trusted head disciple you will personally see to it that neither that beast Luo Binghe nor any other lazy juniors think themselves above going to classes. Any necessary chores will be done in the evening – choose something simple within his poor capabilities.”

“Yes Shizun!”

“I trust I will hear better reports in the future, head disciple,” he warned sternly. “I will be busy for the next few weeks with classes in the daytime and artistic projects in the evenings during which I do not wish to be disturbed, so Ming Fan will see to this matter – if he is capable of doing so - and will handle the peak’s paperwork for now.”

“Of course, Shizun! This one is honoured to be of assistance and would not dare to disappoint you,” Ming Fan fawned, collecting up the pile of accumulated dull forms to take away with him, before departing with a low bow.

Brown-noser, thought Shen Qingqiu. Still, if he can handle the peak’s paperwork until I get the hang of calligraphy at least, that will help a lot! Why are there so many forms?! What kind of xianxia fantasy world has villains inundated with paperwork!

[+20 B-Points for in-character verbal abuse and bullying!]

I’m awesome at this! Shen Yuan thought proudly.

-000-

The art of shu – elegant calligraphy – was the first one he worked on mastering, for fear someone would notice his handwriting wouldn’t match when he eventually had to write something others would read. He got all set up with an inkstone and some paper, and tried to just kind of zone out a bit.

Okay, I can do this, Shen Yuan promised himself, with a little pep talk. He picked up a flat little pottery jug and added a few drops of water to the ink stone, which was a beautiful black dish with carved artwork around the edges. Picking up the sooty ink stick, he ground it slowly up and down into the tiny puddle of water in the bottom of the dish. After a couple of minutes the ink started to come together, and he found his body automatically relaxing, moving the ink stick in smooth circles (which felt more natural) and going into a kind of meditative trance. The soft scraping gave him ASMR vibes, it was very soothing and calmed his mind. Driven by instinct now he ground for five minutes before testing the ink’s consistency on a sheet of paper.

Not ready, the ink’s too runny, he judged. It’s bleeding out from the lines straight away.

It took another four minutes before he judged the consistency was right. Trying to stay in the zone, he tried to think ‘Shen Qingqiu’ thoughts and let his mind drift as he focused on writing a pretend complaint to An Ding about the quality of food delivered to his peak’s kitchen.

His handwriting came out nice and smooth, a rather rigid and blocky kai shu regular script.

Not bad! he thought, holding up his work to admire. System, what do you think? Do I get some points for this?

[+5 B-Points. Host should also try decorative calligraphy!]

That’s a bit stingy, but I’ll take it.

[This System can issue a point deduction if Host prefers. (¬_¬) ]

No, no! I’m very happy with the points.

He discovered with a little trial and error that his calligraphy only came out properly when he relaxed. If he concentrated too hard on what he was doing, he sometimes reverted to his modern scrawl.

I haven’t written this much since school! he complained, to his unsympathetic System. Who needs handwriting these days, let alone calligraphy with brushes, when everything’s on computer!

Zoning out as best he could, he let instinct guide him again as he trialled a more decorative style of calligraphy.

I bet Shen Qingqiu would write some kind of broody poem about bamboo, he thought, trying to get in the man’s headspace. The words just came to him, flowing out in a xin shu running script that was smoother and more flowing than the previous style. It was messier, but more artistic, and he felt happy that the poem on the silk would be fit for display on one of the walls of his house; a little stamp of his new ownership.

     Alone I sit in the shade of bamboo trees,
     My strings I pluck then long and loud I sing;
     Deep in the forest no one knows I exist,
     None but the moon to me she comes a-shining.

[+10 B-Points for in-character actions! Shen Qingqiu enjoyed poetry, calligraphy, and playing the guqin alone in the Bamboo House. This poem expresses three of his favourite things all at once.]

Hell yes! Shen Yuan smiled broadly. It’s time to grind for points! My years of playing computer games aren’t going to go to waste.

He eked out a few points in dribs and drabs, writing calligraphy of poems and sayings that were as ancient as dust. His best point gain apart from his first poem was a slightly more generous three point reward for swearing out loud after a poem failed to meet his standards of artistic perfection; he’d lost his focus and slipped up with his handwriting, and had thoughtlessly scrunched up the paper and angrily redone it. System had approved the perfectionist tantrum as being in-character.

Trying more modern sayings proved to be within his capabilities too, and the handwriting looked great… but it didn’t earn him points. He admired the rectangle of silk anyway; it expressed what he was feeling about his transmigration quite beautifully.

     Treasure the experience. Dreams fade away after you wake up.

[-10 B-Points! Shen Qingqiu would not quote lines from anime.]

My precious points! Look, it’s broody and vague, nothing modern in it to the casual eye. Anyway, no-one’s going to see it! Shen Yuan tried to justify, disappointed at being hit with his first penalty after earning a string of stingy one point rewards for transcribing some more poems. This deduction was wiping out half his calligraphy point gains!

System, don’t take my hard-ground points! I can keep it in my room, or get rid of it, okay? Is it really OOC if no-one knows about it?

[OOC is OOC.]

Whatever. I’m going to work on the guqin next. Hopefully he could get some of those sweet high point rewards for mastering a new option from the Four Arts. He was a competent (if rusty) violin player, thanks to the classes and competitions his parents had pushed him into, and he thought music should be more fun to grind than calligraphy.

Shen Yuan stubbornly decided that after he got the OOC restrictions unlocked, he was going to covertly geek out as much as he wanted.

-000-

Another week passed, and Shen Qingqiu had painstakingly farmed some more points painting melancholy landscapes of Cang Qiong’s mountains in the mist, and zoned out playing dull classical works on the guqin and guzheng until the fingering became second nature. But it seemed like every time the unlock feature was almost within his grasp, System would come up with some infuriating new point deduction. He’d talked too much to students. His hair wasn’t impeccably styled. He’d smiled at someone who wasn’t Ning Yingying.

Yue Qingyuan stopped by for tea, a chat, and a covert check of his shidi with an anti-possession talisman of some kind. He’d pointedly sneered disparagingly at that last aspect of his visit, covering up his own nervous concern that it would give him away as a fraud.

“Did you think this master would not notice?” he scoffed. “Zhangmen-shixiong has all the grace and subtlety of a clumsy panda. Idiot. This master will be sure not to disturb you so by attempting basic courtesy in the future, if it is such a matter of concern that you suspect possession.” He obscured his mouth with his waving fan and glared over the top of it.

[+2 B-Points for in-character behaviour and avoiding detection!]

“Sorry, Xi… Shen Qingqiu. I was just ah, please do continue to be courteous, this one apologises.” Flustered, the sect leader avoided eye contact and glanced around the room, as if desperate for a distraction.

“You have been painting again, it has been a while,” he said, a cheerful smile plastered on top of whatever it was he was really feeling.

“Insipid mountain scenes, bland depictions of flowers, and dull seascapes,” Shen Yuan said, with a dismissive sniff. “This one thought to produce a few examples to share with his students about the kind of paintings expected of young masters. As they have now served their purpose, I will discard most of them. There is one of plum blossoms that is passable, I suppose.”

He gestured at his favourite painting that had come out beautifully, a branch of dark pink plum blossoms, that he’d decided to keep for his wall. He’d added a line of calligraphy to it that he’d made up, happily farming an extra point for his poetic addition.

Yue Qingyuan stood up and browsed through the pile of completed paintings. “There’s one of Qiong Ding Peak here.”

“It was dull to paint,” Shen Yuan said. “The painting was adequate, but it isn’t one fit for display.” He was hoping to farm an extra point for the insult, but he was out of luck on this occasion.

Maybe next time.

Standing before the plum blossom painting, Yue Qingyuan read the calligraphy on it out loud, in an oddly dull tone. “In the endless cold of winter, I await the spring.”

“A little something I composed myself. Does it speak to Zhangmen-shixiong?” he asked, waving his fan with his best attempt at aloof humility.

He admired the painting again himself! He liked how fragile and delicate the flowers had turned out. A swirl of scattered, lost petals drifted down from the increasingly bare branch, as if shaken loose by a cold winter breeze, while a few petals still clung on determinedly, as if they refused to give up hope that spring would come.

[+5 B-Points for in-character behaviour.]

Nice! Shen Yuan thought happily. It was good to know that it wasn’t only insults that could earn him points, but also commonplace showing off.

“It is… umm… Yes, of course, it is lovely,” Yue Qingyuan said, with a barely-hidden wince.

Oh? Not a fan, then?

“Perhaps Zhangmen-Shixiong prefers the majestic mountains of Cang Qiong to such fragile, useless blooms,” he said, letting a little bite sneak into his tone. Shen Qingqiu would probably be insulted someone didn’t like his favourite painting.

[+5 B-Points for in-character behaviour.]

Score! Bitchiness for the win!

“I… I do like our mountains. I hope you have learnt to enjoy them too,” the sect leader said, fully turning his back to Shen Yuan as he looked through the stack again, his shoulders slightly hunched as he bent over the desk. That man was truly unreasonably tall!

Silence hung between them, awkward and tense, no noise except the rustle of papers and the creak of the bamboo outside the window.

Not knowing what to say, Shen Yuan just drank his tea, until eventually he broke and asked leadingly, “If that was all…?” His guest was lovely – really he liked the man – but he had to watch out for OOC behaviour and he was still getting the hang of how to act like Shen Qingqiu; the pretence got exhausting after a while.

Yue Qingyuan straightened up and turned around with that fake serene smile on his face again. “Of course, I will not bother shidi any further. Might this one take this painting of mist on Qiong Ding with him, since it will otherwise be discarded?” he asked hopefully.

“I suppose shixiong may take it if he wishes,” Shen Qingqiu pronounced, waving his hand in studied dismissive disinterest.

[OOC! -10 B-Points! Shen Qingqiu would never gift a painting to Yue Qingyuan!]

Fuck your mother! There go all my hard-earned points again! You couldn’t have warned me about that in advance?! His mouth pursed up in irritation. Was it too late to salvage this situation?

“That painting is trash, though,” he hastily added, reaching out to grab the painting back. “Zhangmen-shixiong should really throw it away. This one did not actually intend to gift–”

But catching the frustrated and regretful look in his eye, Yue Qingyuan dodged his grasping hand and was already halfway out the front door, smiling brightly as the painting was hurriedly tucked away in a qiankun pouch before Shen Yuan could seize it. “So sorry, must be going! Many things to do, you know how it is. Thank you again for the tea.”

Chapter Text

After the Skinner Demon mission in Shuang Hu City the OOC feature was unfrozen and Shen Yuan was delighted to be able to act however he liked. Well, within reason! The System had trained him well into adhering to certain patterns of behaviour that it would be wise to follow if he didn’t want to be suspiciously investigated again by Yue Qingyuan, or checked on by the politely investigative Mu Qingfang, who’d expressed concern about his allegedly poorly concealed partial amnesia. It was a total memory loss of course, but Shen Yuan could bullshit his way through a lot of probing conversations thanks to his knowledge of PIDW so matters didn’t seem as dire as they really were.

So with big-picture changes ruled out he mostly rebelled against his villainous type-casting through little alterations. That included a few small but pivotal actions which he hoped might change the trajectory of the story, like getting a new manual to Luo Binghe, and continuing to prod Ming Fan into quitting his bullying in favour of being a ‘responsible head disciple’ who set a good example for his juniors.

It was the harmless, small rebellions that filled his days and soothed his occasionally homesick or stressed-out nerd heart, however. He started filling his bedroom with some artwork that made it feel less like a stranger’s room from a movie set and more like home. Covert though he tried to be, people still caught him at it.

Ming Fan unexpectedly found him painting a replica of one of his favourite pieces of merch from back home, outside where the light was better.

“That’s an… interesting subject for a painting, Shizun,” he said politely. “A demoness, perhaps, with that turquoise hair, eerily large eyes, and such an – ahem – revealing and unusual outfit?”

“Hatsune Miku,” Shen Yuan replied, shamelessly determined to brazen his way through this challenge. “A legendary immortal siren whose sweet voice entrances millions. She lives only when she is loved; some say she will die without the worship of men. I’ve been thinking of composing my own interpretation of one of her songs, adapted for the guqin.”

You think there’s something odd going on? Maybe you’re the odd one here, not recognising a famous demoness, hey?! Maybe all immortal masters paint demons in their spare time, you uncultured swine! Just you try insulting my painting of my precious Miku or my musical arrangement! He gave Ming Fan a challenging, arrogant look, daring him to say anything critical.

Ming Fan coughed, and a blush tinted his cheeks as he hung his head submissively and bowed. “Paperwork for you to sign, Shizun.”

He even has my seal with my name engraved on it and some ink ready for me to use; what a good disciple! he thought, softening his glare. Really, he’d underestimated this cannon fodder.

Shen Yuan cleaned and set down his paintbrush and gave Ming Fan a pat on the head. “Good job.”

Ming Fan startled with a small jump, wide-eyed, then waited patiently while he stamped his literal seal of approval in several places with cinnabar red ink. He did it with tidy elegance earned through practice. Before his first attempts at putting his seal on official paperwork he’d practiced on scrap paper and had also stamped a lot of his artworks and artistic calligraphy.

I really should resume doing the actual paperwork now my handwriting is perfected. But he seems so happy to help and so much of it really is terribly boring. He can do those bits.

“This master trusts that Ming Fan is capable of continuing to handle the financial paperwork such as orders and bills for Qing Jing Peak, and budgeting. Bring the completed documents to this master for review and approval, or send them direct to An Ding Peak for routine matters like kitchen supplies. Now this master has more free time I shall resume managing internal peak paperwork including class scheduling, marking, disciplinary matters, mission assignments and reports, and so on. You will also continue to act as a Class Monitor to ensure all slacking outer disciples attend their scheduled classes and have any required supplies. My head disciple has done well but also needs free time of his own to advance his own lagging cultivation. Do not take on any additional chores besides the ones I just listed, unless I explicitly say otherwise.”

“Thank you, Shizun!” Ming Fan replied, with a delighted smile that made his average-looking face almost cute. He bowed and scurried off with the pile of completed paperwork clutched to his chest.

While Shen Yuan waited for his latest layer of paint to dry in the gentle afternoon sun, he moved over to a simple wooden table where he’d laid out his guqin. He stood behind the table and picked at the strings, tentatively sounding out part of one of his favourite cheerful Hatsune Miku pop songs, before settling down to play a different cover that he’d mastered over the past few days. It had been a fun song to vent with and was the first he’d picked to work on arranging as soon as he’d been freed from the System’s smothering restrictions.

He started with a simple beat, drumming the flat of his palm on the end of the guqin before starting to pick out the melody, humming along quietly and tapping his foot as he plucked at the strings. Ideally, he’d have a second player on a guqin to do a bass line, and maybe someone to handle some percussion. Perhaps it would make a good group project for some students, if he transcribed it? Mostly he played the background harmony while singing what he remembered of the melody. He’d made up a bit here and there where his memory had failed him, and thought he should probably change a bit more for child-appropriateness if he wanted to share it for public consumption with his students in a lesson. For now, though, it was pure self-indulgence.

     “Sneaking on your tippy toes
     Creeping around like no one knows
     Think you’re so criminal!”

He’d remembered most of the verses’ lyrics right, he thought, but he was better at the catchy chorus. It didn’t really matter since he was changing stuff anyway. He sang happily, revelling in his freedom, his head bobbing slightly as he played. He’d drafted some alternative lyrics to make the chorus more Proud Immortal Demon Way themed.

     “I’m that bad type
     Make your wives all sad type
     Make you feel so mad right
     Might seduce your girl type
     I’m the bad guy, duh!
     I’m the baaaad guy.

     I like it when you take control–”

He’d decided ‘might seduce your girl’ sounded much more appropriate than ‘might seduce your dad’! He wasn’t a female singer, after all, so it would sound far too nonsensical if he’d left it as it was! And Shen Qingqiu had, after all, been accused of some unsavoury behaviour towards poor little Ning Yingying, and Qiu Haitang as well.

He paused his playing as he thought he heard a rustling in the bamboo, as if a large animal was moving around in the garden.

“Hello?”

Stillness and silence. Qing Jing Peak didn’t have large animals; the largest creatures you were likely to encounter were birds. Of course, there was another rather obvious possibility.

“If a disciple wishes to listen you may come out, so long as you sit quietly while this master plays.”

He affected an unbothered air, but as some of the lyrics of the song were a little embarrassing he switched back to the instrumental-only version, resuming his playing as if nothing unusual was happening.

Luo Binghe – of course it was the protagonist – crept hesitantly out of the stand of bamboo and without a word sat down gingerly on the grass nearby, watching him warily.

Sweet fluffy sheep!

Shen Yuan gave him a small encouraging smile, which made Binghe brighten up like a luminous little star and relax his tensed posture. He settled down to listen to the odd fast-paced song with an eager expression.

Shen Yuan only sang the lyrics in his own mind, now, letting only a wordless melodic hum escape him.

     I’m only good at being bad… bad
     I like when you get mad
     I guess I’m pretty glad that you’re alone

He didn’t let it show, but as the song wrapped up, he thought wistfully that he wished he could’ve transmigrated into a less troublesome role.

     I’m a bad guy

[+1 B-Point for developing the plot.]

Well, at least I get points for being the bad guy! It’ll be a long grind to ten thousand, though, to save Binghe from the Endless Abyss. Look at that sweet innocent face! For him, I can do it. 

The hero suffering was fun to read about in a story but not in real life… or whatever approximation of real life it was that they were living through now.

-000-

Calligraphy classes went very well. First, he gave a brief ‘revision’ lecture on ink preparation since he had no idea if he’d already covered it or not but had noticed some of them had very watery ink. Then he showed off the different scripts he’d only recently mastered himself. All his disciples were duly impressed and strove to copy his style while he just got to wander around reminding them of the proper order of strokes and advising them to experiment with brush pressure. He praised the best few students in the class, holding up their work to motivate others – Ming Fan was deservedly proud to be one of the lucky chosen exemplars – and the rest got all fired up to emulate them, including Binghe who was sitting at the back of the class and really was rather terrible at the subject.

That will change with time of course! The protagonist is just in his character development whump arc right now.

Shen Yuan was secretly delighted just to see his white lotus safely attending calligraphy classes. He was also just as happy to reap all those delicious B-Points for acting in character and raising his students’ IQ!

Weiqi classes, on the other hand, were terrible. Of all the Four Arts it was the one he struggled with the most. Zoning out didn’t work so well for boosting his game playing, and while he couldn’t be sure why he suspected it was because you needed slightly new strategies for every match, as it was rare that any two games went the same way. How could he rely on his instincts when it came to winning a particular game he’d never played before?

He wasn’t bad at it, he’d even known the rules in his modern life, though he was glumly sure Shen Qingqiu had been a much better player than Shen Yuan was. Painting he had talent for, guqin he was a master at, calligraphy he couldn’t really judge but it all seemed really beautiful to him. But weiqi he was merely passable at; he could at best be charitably called ‘average’. His Hall Masters had seemed surprised by him joining in a couple of classes, so perhaps he usually avoided public matches, and only played with Yue Qingyuan? That man had been delighted to share a couple of matches with him when he’d dropped by on his check-ins, and thankfully the sect leader was a worse player than he was (or the man was throwing their matches, he wasn’t quite sure). The System said he was an ‘able strategist’ who won most of his matches, but did the scum villain ever pick a fair fight with a talented opponent, or did he usually stick to beating tiny outer disciples who barely knew the rules?

The youngest and most inexperienced disciples he beat handily, but the more senior players were a worrying challenge. After a couple of losses he hit on a strategy to cover his thin-faced reputation with: bluffing and bullshitting his way through his losses like it’d all been on purpose.

“An adequate grasp of strategy,” he’d praise faintly, when his nameless opponent made a good move.

“Thanking Shizun!”

“Now, explain for those watching: what opportunity did this master leave for you that you were able to capitalise on?” he blustered, as soon as he started to lose ground.

The gullible little sheep were happy to boastfully explain the strategic opportunity they’d spotted, to the murmuring admiration of their crowd of peers.

Fake it ‘til you make it!

[+5 B-Points for in-character behaviour.]

Of course the System would reward him for being a good liar; it’s probably what Shen Qingqiu would have done in his shoes. It no longer deducted points for OOC behaviour with that feature unlocked but it still tried to weasel around that limitation by pointedly rewarding in-character behaviour; it was still trying to make him more like that scum villain Shen Qingqiu.

“Will Shizun be back next lesson?” Luo Binghe asked.

Precious protagonist! Look at you joining in all the lessons now. Ah, I’m so proud of him!

“Unfortunately not. I have other classes to supervise, and the Hall Masters don’t need me here,” he demurred, lying about his motivations. He was going to avoid weiqi classes as much as possible in the future and would stick to things he had better stolen talent for. “In any case, this master will soon be going into closed cultivation in the Ling Xi Caves for at least a few months, possibly up to a year.”

Stupid mandatory quest! How was he supposed to grind points while in a cave?! He’d stalled on it as long as he could, but it was time to go.

“Wishing Shizun luck!”

Aw, look at his earnest face, pure as jade! Well, time to go level up my cultivation. Maybe with some luck I’ll learn a few cool moves and get more points for that?

-000-

Lying in bed at Qian Cao after the demons’ attack and his own stupid, self-sacrificial protection of the baby protagonist who was immune to Without a Cure, Shen Yuan could only think one thing.

Fuck my life. There goes my power-up.

[Reminder: Host earnt 50 B-Points for a suspenseful, dramatic scene that increased character depth and complexity for Shen Qingqiu!]

System are you trying to cheer me up? I worked for months improving my skills and now it’s all ruined.

[Host may still work hard earning points to negate the anticipated ten-thousand-point deduction for failing to complete the ‘Endless Abyss’ scenario!]

It was about as encouraging as his system ever got. Okay. He’d just have to grind points harder!

Musical training montage, here I come!

Well, at least Binghe didn’t have to suffer, and I get to try the cuisine that seduced hundreds of maidens! Aw, look at him blooming like a flower because I like his congee.

He gave in to the irresistible urge to give him a little pat on the head, and basked in the view of that beaming face, bright as the sun.

-000-

Shen Yuan gazed out at the formless grey horizon.

“System, are you online?! Where is this?”

[This is a world within a dream realm.]

“Shizun!”

Oh right, he thought, as after a moment Binghe appeared and dashed over to him like an excited lost chick that had just spotted its mother hen. The ‘Dream Demon Meng Mo’s Barrier’ chapter. But isn’t Ning Yingying supposed to be here? Maybe if we wait a while she’ll show up too?

He stalled for a while, explaining the nature of the dream realm, the likelihood of demonic involvement, and the importance of staying calm. He also dropped a ‘not all demons are terrible’ hint for the protagonist to ponder. Eventually, however, he had to admit that the System did not have a bug, and though there was still no sign of Ning Yingying they still needed to move on.

He manifested a fan in his hand just to give himself something to hide his worried expression with; his current favourite one that was a plain cream painted with a simple leafy green bamboo pattern.

“Wah! How did Shizun do that?” Binghe gasped.

“It’s a dream world, Binghe,” he explained. “Focus on what you want to have appear, something you are very familiar with, and it should manifest for you. It’s your mind, after all – it should be even easier for you! No weapons though, remember, an attack here will only hurt your sleeping mind.”

Binghe stared at him, his brow furrowed with concentration.

Shen Yuan felt a sudden weight on his back, and let out a burst of laughter as he realised what was in the large, padded cloth bag that had manifested via the protagonist’s will. “My guqin?”

Beaming at him, Binghe explained, “Shizun had it brought to him on Qian Cao, he missed it so. This disciple is familiar with it and thought Shizun might like to have it!”

He ruffled Binghe’s hair – so soft! – and gave him a gentle smile. “This master is pleased to see Binghe taking his first steps to master the dream realm.”

[+2 protagonist satisfaction points.]

Gotta love the grind! My neglected little lamb is so hungry for some positive attention from his teacher, so how can I resist?

As they walked on and entered a city full of disturbing faceless figures – deep in the Uncanny Valley – he was concerned to see Binghe looking so rattled.

“Shizun!” he cried, “what are those things?”

“Easy now,” he soothed, hiding his own fear behind a comforting mask. “It’s just an illusion, like everything else here. Building are easy but people are complex to simulate, even for an accomplished demon like Meng Mo, the master of dreams who must be behind this. That’s why their faces are so blank, and their movements stiff.”

“I don’t like it,” Binghe complained, looking up at him with those sweet, doe-like eyes. “I think I recognise it, Shizun, I used to live here, but it’s all wrong… it’s so flat, and the people…!”

“Look away,” he encouraged, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Come, sit with me and I’ll play you a song.”

Binghe’s eyes wisely stayed fixed firmly on him as his disciple avoided looking at the eerie figures. They sat together on the stoop of one of the houses, their view of the road partially hidden by a cluster of washed-out green bushes.

Shen Yuan sat down and swung the guqin around and out of its padded bag, settling it on his knees.

“This is a song called ‘Mad World’. It’s a melancholy sort of tune, but I think it will suit, all things considered.”

Binghe seemed calmer as soon as the first notes were plucked, leaning tentatively against his side, tucked in close and a little behind him, so they could share the stoop properly.

How thoughtful to sit so close! He won’t bump my arm while I play from there, tucked tight against the door, Shen Yuan thought.

     “All around me are familiar faces
     Worn-out places, worn-out faces”

As he sang, Binghe relaxed further, and the world felt a little brighter somehow as the protagonist smiled.

     “No expression, no expression
     Hide my head, I want to drown my sorrow
     No tomorrow, no tomorrow
     And I find it kind of funny
     I find it kind of sad
     The dreams in which I'm… crying
     Are the best I've ever had...”

When he reached the chorus he swiftly substituted ‘dying’ with ‘crying’. He didn’t want to depress the protagonist too much!

Ah, it’s all true though! This dream of Luo Binghe is the best!

If he could just avoid his inevitable doom, it would be perfect. It wasn’t the afterlife he’d expected, but it had grown on him.

He couldn’t remember every word in the next verse… something about birthdays, and a child not being appreciated enough, but the exact lyrics didn’t come to him instantly. He’d have to scour his memory later. For now, he wrapped up by repetitively singing about how it was a very ‘mad world’ and let the song drift to a gentle end.

“Shizun! I just saw some people with faces!” Binghe said, straightening up and looking out at the road.

“Ah, well we had best follow them,” he said, and his guqin disappeared in a cloud of mist as he stood up.

Chapter Text

Binghe had moved into the Bamboo House – earning him a delightful 50 protagonist satisfaction points – and swiftly taken over managing his meals, laundry, house cleaning, and anything else Shen Qingqiu needed help with. In exchange, the young protagonist got a safe place to stay, help with his studies, and the chance to listen to his Shizun playing the guqin every evening, interspersed with a little extra painting and calligraphy when he needed a change of pace. When it was rainy or too hot outside, he often lazily picked Shen Qingqiu as the subject of his paintings, since he needed to improve his skills in depicting human figures. He could combine listening to his teacher’s guqin playing with doing a painting of him, for a double dose of culture! It all felt very elegant, and System seemed to approve.

Binghe’s calligraphy quote from Your Name was now proudly displayed on a wall for all to see, and Shen Qingqiu’s painted fan decorated with an ‘lightning mouse’ to replace his merch lost a world away was almost done. He’d also recently completed a new piece of calligraphy which he’d had hung in the Music Hall which read, ‘We are the music makers and we are the dreamers of dreams.’ It was perfect! Vague, inspirational, and unrecognizable as coming from a modern movie.

Ah, Willy Wonka was so damn insane in that movie, it was almost admirable how unhinged he became in pursuit of the perfect heir to pass his legacy to.

As sunset fell Luo Binghe scurried home from classes and a spot of tutoring with Ning Yingying, greeting him cheerily before rushing off to the kitchen to get dinner started. Shen Yuan read a bestiary for a little while, before setting it aside to finish off his fan, since it was almost done and the paint on the wooden beads should be dry now. He sang quietly under his breath as he threaded a trio of red, black, and white beads onto a silk cord to be attached to the bottom of his new fan and carefully tied an intricate knot at the bottom of it, an ‘osmanthus’ style knot which was auspicious for good fortune, with associations of elegance and nobility. There were dozens of different knot styles to decorate things with, he felt their shapes drifting in the back of his mind, ready to be recalled. It was an eerie kind of sensation, so he decided to ignore it utterly and try not to think too much about it in the future.

“All finished!” he called out. “My fan is done.” He waved it gently through the air, admiring his own craftsmanship. Was it his own? Or was it Shen Qingqiu’s craftsmanship? No, he was claiming this! Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t paint a Pokémon-themed fan.

“So is dinner, Shizun!” Binghe called back cheerfully. He bustled out with a tray full of delicious temptations for dinner.

Shen Yuan put on his fake air of ‘I am an immortal master who doesn’t need to eat thanks to inedia and thus isn’t at all tempted by the scrumptious aroma of roast duck’. Binghe wasn’t fooled, of course, the protagonist as expected was too smart for that! But he was willing to pretend he was fooled, insisting that Shen Qingqiu try a little of his dishes as a personal favour to him, picking out the choicest morsels to place in his Shizun’s bowl.

So with their usual social dance complete, Shen Yuan got to stuff himself silly, and afterwards just lazed around like a pampered young emperor rereading a favourite romance book while Binghe tidied everything away before slipping back into the main room with him to do some quiet studying.

“Is Shizun going to sing the new composition he has been working on?” Binghe asked.

“Hmm, I wasn’t sure I would have time. To be honest I thought Liu Qingge would have arrived already to clear my meridians,” he tutted. “He’s late today.”

Binghe glanced over at him briefly from where he was completing some homework, before looking away as he casually explained. “This one understands he was advised by someone not to disturb Shizun’s dinner.”

Shen Yuan nodded. That’s thoughtful.

“Well, I suppose I might have time for a song, then.”

Binghe abandoned his studies instantly as his Shizun settled down at his guqin. Sweet little bun, he always made the most eager and attentive audience.

“This song isn’t my own, it’s one I mentioned to you a while ago, by Hatsune Miku.”

Head tilted, Binghe didn’t look quite as keen for a song as he had a moment ago, more curious rather than eager, now. “The one by the siren, Shizun? Whose portrait you have in your bedroom?”

Hey, I need my merch! I’m rebuilding it one bit at a time, he thought defensively. He had plans to claim a whole bookshelf as a display shelf once he had more items to fill it with.

“The very same,” he said, before hesitating uncertainly. Would such a song really be of interest to such a manly protagonist? Wasn’t it just a little bit embarrassing? “That is… if Binghe won’t mind listening to me sing a woman’s love song?”

Binghe’s eyes widened. “Not at all, Shizun! Please, this one would be honoured to hear it.”

He ducked his head and smiled. How open-minded! “Well then, here’s my adaptation of a legendary song of hers that enraptured a whole country, called ‘Melt’.”

     “When I woke up this morning
     The first thing I thought of was you”

He sang in a higher register than usual, maybe not the vocaloid’s chirpy soprano, but an acceptably high tenor. He loved this song; he used to sing it all the time back in his old life, and his mei-mei used to sing along with him. It was nice to get to share it with Binghe now, who was sitting there wide-eyed and soaking in every word of the cutesy lyrics like they were manna raining down from heaven and he was starving.

He’d never known Luo Binghe was such a fan of guqin music until transmigrating here! He listened to every song he played with rapt attention and then would sing them for days afterwards, as well as badgering his teacher to help him with his fingering so he could learn to play the tunes himself. Binghe would sing while doing the dishes, and hum while sweeping the floor. Shen Yuan half expected birds to come flying through the window of the Bamboo House to sing alongside the perpetually cheerful Cinderella protagonist!

     “I can't tell you I like you, but then I…
     Melt! I can't even look you in the eye
     I won't fall for love, not me
     But… I really do like you”

Binghe got especially starry-eyed at the chorus, then went all pink cheeked.

Ah, sweet boy! Are you thinking of Ning Yingying? Do you have a little crush? Shen Yuan smiled at him at the thought of their sweet romance, earning a shy smile in return.

The door banged open noisily as Liu Qingge burst in with his usual disregard for common courtesies like knocking and waiting. “What on earth are you singing about this time?”

“Shh!” Binghe hissed, in an attempt to hush him, but it was too late.

“I’ll finish it later,” he promised, stilling the quivering strings of the guqin with flat hands. “Shidi, will you clear my meridians promptly then, since you are in such a hurry and in no mood for waiting around to listen to this one’s presumably subpar music?”

His System gave him no points, even though he was trying to be snappy and confrontational. It was picky, sometimes, about judging something sufficiently in-character to merit a point gain.

Come on System, not even one point? he wheedled.

[+2 protagonist satisfaction points.]

A begrudging belated offer, but better than nothing. That’s more like it!

His complacent happiness didn’t last long, as it hit him with another random point deduction while Liu Qingge held his arm and cleared his meridians.

[-5 protagonist satisfaction points.]

Oh, come on, Binghe is perfectly happy! he argued.

[Host is incorrect.]

He glanced over at Binghe, who was indeed scowling and glowering in their direction. I suppose he didn’t appreciate the song being interrupted, he never does like to hear only half a song, and he was really enjoying this one. Poor dear! We need to be sure you get to hear some more songs without being interrupted by Liu Qingge, or Ming Fan, or having to rush off to classes. I hope the concert will soothe his romantic musical heart. Ooh! Maybe I can get Best Wife Liu Mingyan to come too?

“This master will be holding a musical recitation evening at Qing Jing Peak later this week,” he mentioned, glancing up at Liu Qingge’s focused face through lowered eyelashes. “We will have some art on display as well. Perhaps shidi would like to come and try to learn to appreciate a little culture? Liu-shidi could bring along his sister for company?”

“Mn,” Qingge replied, looking embarrassed. “Are many people from other peaks coming?”

“I’m not sure yet, though I know Yue Qingyuan is insistent about attending all of this one’s concerts; I will be performing some songs as well this time, not just my students. Qi Qingqi was thinking of doing a little something too, I believe. Some time has been allocated for her disciples to perform.”

“Then I will come too. And Mingyan, as well. She has been wanting to meet you.”

[-5 protagonist satisfaction points.]

Oh, fuck off!

[System did not sign up for this kind of abuse!]

Neither did I, System!

He made up for it later that evening after Qingge was gone and Binghe’s homework was finished, singing the song again right to the end just for him. And for the +10 protagonist satisfaction points.

     “I want you to take me in your arms
     You wish!”

“Did Binghe enjoy it? Did your old Shizun enrapture you like a legendary siren?” he teased.

Binghe nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yes, Shizun!”

“I’m glad,” he replied gently, patting his head.

“Shizun?” Binghe asked tentatively, ducking his head as he nuzzled slightly into the palm of his hand, demanding more pats like a cat. “Was it… the song… does Shizun… This one felt like the song was being sung just for him…?”

“Ah! Songs can be like that sometimes,” Shen Yuan said, feeling very much like a Wise Old Master. “I even have a favourite song about that very topic! Sometimes, when we feel something very strongly, we see echoes of it everywhere in the world around us. Everything someone says, every song we hear, they remind us of that strong emotion. The very birds in the sky seem like a sign from heaven, flying around just for us. And of course as songs are the poetry of the soul expressed through music, inevitably some of them will speak to us more strongly than others. Like the softest caress or the harshest punch to the gut, they make us laugh and they make us cry.”

Binghe nodded, serious and attentive. “This disciple would like to hear that other song, if Shizun is willing to sing some more?”

With one last pat to the softest, fluffiest hair in the world, Shen Yuan set him free. “Go settle into bed and I’ll sing you a bedtime song, if you like? If you’re not too old for such a thing?”

“I’m not too old!” Luo Binghe said, then winced regretfully. “Not that I’m a child, Shizun.”

Precious lamb! “Of course not,” he agreed. “It’s nice for anyone to listen to music while you drift off to sleep. I enjoy it too.”

He’d liked having a playlist running back home in his last life when he went to sleep, drowning out the traffic noise down below outside his apartment, and helping him feel less isolated and alone.

[Intermediate-level quest issued. Quest: A good night’s sleep. Please click to accept.]

He accepted immediately, delighted by the offer of some easy points, and sang his selected bedtime song for Binghe.

     “He sang as if he knew me
     In all my dark despair
     And then he looked right through me
     As if I wasn't there”

I can tell he’s still awake, he’s peeking at me, Shen Yuan thought, amused.

     “Strumming my pain with his fingers
     Singing my life with his words
     Killing me softly with his song”

He sang right to the end, and Binghe gave up his pretence of trying to sleep, though he did look heavy-lidded and sleepy now.

“I’ve never heard a song that made me feel pain, like it was killing me,” Binghe commented. “But I still liked the song, Shizun. How the person listening felt the singer was singing to them but really they weren’t at all. It’s sad, but sweet. It’s a good lesson, and it had a lovely melody.”

Shen Qingqiu nodded. “Binghe has suffered enough, even in his young life. Songs can definitely tear at the heart; you just haven’t heard one that speaks to you in that way yet. Perhaps if Binghe heard a song that reminded him of his mother?”

“Mn. Maybe.” Binghe nodded in vague agreement. “I liked ‘Melt’ more, Shizun.”

He laughed. “It’s alright to have favourites.”

Binghe yawned and covered his mouth cutely with one hand. “Sorry, Shizun!”

“Goodnight, Binghe.” He tucked Binghe in since he was too sleepy to object to being coddled.

A little while later, settled down in his own bed, Shen Yuan remembered something as he was drifting off to sleep.

Hey System, where’s my points for a successful quest completion?

[Quest is incomplete.]

Whatever. That was a problem for tomorrow. Maybe Binghe would have to sleep solidly through the night first before it counted as completed.

-000-

Qing Jing Peak’s creative arts night was a big hit… and not just for the points it earnt him. Disciples' paintings and artful calligraphy served proudly as fresh decorations along the walls of the performance hall, and he had many bright little sheep eager to show off their musical accomplishments – even Luo Binghe took a turn. There was also his own elegant performance of one traditional song and one ‘new composition’, and his students also provided musical accompaniment for a dance troupe of shizhi from Xian Shu Peak, gracefully led in their steps by Liu Mingyan. Qi Qingqi had heard from Yue Qingyuan of his attempt to ‘bring culture’ to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect and had insisted on being involved too. Even some other random peak lords had shown up in the audience, like Shang Qinghua, the nasty little traitor.

Qinghua was staring, Shen Yuan noticed, as he played and sang, on a guzheng this time rather than a guqin, as the larger instrument was more suited to an elegant performance for a crowd. There was a saying about it, it went something like, ‘guqin for one’s self, guzheng for others’. He didn’t know where he’d learnt the saying and wasn’t even sure if he’d gotten it right. Some half-remembered scrap of poetry or wisdom from the Original Goods, perhaps?

     “Look at me
     You may think you see
     Who I really am
     But you'll never know me
     Every day
     It's as if I play
     A part”

Look at that weaselly spy, his jaw is literally dropping open, he thought. I guess those lyrics about lying really speak to him even more than they do to me! He shrugged off the distraction and focused back on his song, avoiding eye contact in favour of smiling out at the rest of his enraptured audience.

Later, as he nodded his head elegantly as he received the applause and praise of the audience at the end of the night’s entertainment, Shang Qinghua pushed his way to the front of the circle of fans around Shen Qingqiu. He nudged his way in next to Yue Qingyuan with a discreet push to shove one of the Qing Jing disciples aside.

Hmph, how rude, he thought, flicking his fan up to cover his face and partially hide his disapproving frown.

Shang Qinghua’s face looked more dumbfounded than ever, eyes wide as a deer in headlights. “What the… is that Pikachu on your fan?!” he asked. “Where did… are you…?”

Oh. My. God!

Shen Yuan froze for a moment, his Pokémon fan hiding most of his expression but not his shocked eyes. Another transmigrator! He has to be!

“It’s a legendarily loyal lightning mouse from an old story,” Luo Binghe explained on his behalf, filling the tense, awkward silence. “Shizun painted that fan himself.”

“It’s beautiful work,” Yue Qingyuan praised unnecessarily.

“Indeed,” Shen Yuan said, fanning himself with anxious quickness. “Is ah, is shidi familiar with that story too? Of the young and proud immortal cultivator Xiao Zhi who vowed to catch a legendary lightning mouse for his menagerie, and all the other beasts and interesting demons of the world too, despite those demons’ cunning ways?”

Shang Qinghua’s head was bobbing in frantic agreement. “Yes! Yes, I love that story! I’m very familiar with it! And I enjoyed your song ‘Reflection’, too. Was it inspired by the tale of the legendary female warrior Mulan?”

I’m not alone, Shen Yuan thought, his eyes stinging with a sudden surge of emotion.

“Shidi should visit again sometime soon to discuss our shared love of literature over tea,” he suggested, his fan fluttering to hide his thin face.

“I will, I definitely will!” Qinghua swore fervently.

Binghe scowled.

Poor little lamb! He loves cooking for the two of us but he doesn’t seem to enjoy the extra work of catering for guests.

Yue Qingyuan beamed, looking around at the group of peak lords. “How nice to see this one’s martial siblings getting along! We should hold events like this more often.”

Liu Qingge didn’t look any happier about the idea than Binghe did, but Qi Qingqi seemed to find the idea amusing for some reason and chorused her agreement.

Chapter Text

Shen Yuan – who was trying to think of himself more as Shen Qingqiu to help his characterisation, but it was a work in progress – enjoyed his visits from Shang Qinghua, but he did wish Luo Binghe would stop hovering so much whenever his shidi stopped by. What if Binghe overheard something he shouldn’t?

“Thank you, Binghe, that will be all,” he said, as Binghe courteously poured more tea for both him and his guest. “You will be late for classes, off you go now.” The convenient timing of Qinghua’s visit at the start of morning classes wasn’t a coincidence.

With a dejected slump, Binghe gave in to the inevitable. “Yes, Shizun.”

“The snacks are great, shizhi,” Qinghua said, nibbling at a spicy chicken foot and gnawing the greasy, sauce-covered coating and fragments of meat off the bone. “I know not everyone likes them, but I’ll eat just about anything!”

Binghe scowled on his way out the door, muttering his begrudging thanks to his shishu.

Shang Qinghua sighed, after he’d well and truly left. “Why can’t I say anything right with that young man? I feel like he’s trying to kill me with the power of his mind every time he glares at me, and I hope there’s no forgotten power in my drafts that will make that possible.”

Shen Yuan shrugged, taking a chicken foot of his own to gnaw. Binghe had double-checked his Shizun would like them before deciding on today’s snack, which was very thoughtful of him. “He hates cooking up big batches of food and doesn’t seem to like visitors much. I don’t think it’s anything personal; he’s like that with just about everyone. He’s sweeter when it’s just the two of us or around his martial siblings.”

“Hm. I suppose he did always want to cook only for one wife at a time, no bulk cooking,” Qinghua mumbled, around a mouthful of chicken. “I guess that makes you the wife in this scenario!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he huffed. “Now, on to important matters. How is your planning for the Immortal Alliance Conference going?”

“Oh, you don’t even know my pain,” Qinghua whined. “I can hardly change anything without alerts blaring in my mind! But I’ve managed to cut the Black Moon Rhinoceros-Pythons, which is good because they were responsible for a third of the death toll in the original.”

Shen Qingqiu nodded thoughtfully, with practised elegance that didn’t disturb the silver guan precariously pinning his hairstyle together. “For my part, I’ve been sending Binghe on more night hunts, including some joint ones with Bai Zhan Peak, and I’m also getting him to read up a lot on the flora and fauna of the demon realms. All my other senior students are getting extra training. I’m around eight thousand points now, so I’m optimistic I might meet the total in time.”

“I can’t believe you have so many! How did you do it, bro?”

“Grinding, young grasshopper,” he replied grandly, setting down a bone and wiping his hands and mouth delicately with a damp warm towel. “I grind those in-character points and protagonist satisfaction points whenever I can.”

Standing up, he moved over to the small table where his guzheng saw regular use; it would suit this song better than the smaller guqin today. He checked the strings were in tune, plucking them and listening carefully to the resultant tone.

“It’s no fair you get two point categories!” Qinghua whined, as he worked. “I barely get to see Bing-mei and when I do I end up losing points half the time. Anyway, tell me, how are you getting all those in-character points, bro? Are you bullying your students when I’m not looking, or what?”

“Tch. A little, I admit. I’m very strict! If their homework isn’t up to standard they have to copy texts on a relevant topic, and if they horse around I make them run laps. But most of my B-Point gains are through music. I get more points for traditional songs, but I like to mix things up with modern stuff now and then, and occasionally that’ll earn me points as well if it’s broody enough. Especially if Binghe is listening! He really loves music.”

Qinghua looked puzzled. “I don’t remember writing him that way, but I guess changes snowball. I mean, look at him being the little pampered prince of Qing Jing!”

Qingqiu sniffed dismissively. “I just treat him with basic decency. As the author should have from the start.”

“Don’t lie, bro, you loved the whump arc at the start when you were a reader.”

“Well, it ends now.”

“Sure, sure. Hey, are you going to play something for me?”

“Yes, just for you, Qinghua. I was practicing this the other day and thought of you.”

His bro wiped his own hands and took a sip of tea. “Seriously? Very cool, I’d love to hear it.”

“Then please enjoy my latest composition, ‘Dream On’, which is totally new and not at all blatantly plagiarised,” Shen Yuan said, with a wry smile as he started strumming some basic, repetitive chords as he sang the haunting melodic lines that had only needed a few small tweaks to be perfect.

     “Half my life's in my book’s written pages
     Live and learn from fools and from sages
     You know it's true!
     All the things come back to you–”

“Bro… the feels! I know this song!” Qinghua said happily. He clearly didn’t know all the words – not unsurprising for such a forgetful man – but joined in singing when it hit the bittersweet chorus.

     “Sing with me, sing for the year
     Sing for the laughter and sing for the tear
     Sing it with me, if it's just for today
     Maybe tomorrow, heaven will take you away…”

He stumbled over the last line since Shen Yuan had changed it to fit the xianxia setting a little more. He’d originally tweaked it to “the System will take you away” but had changed it when he’d decided he wanted to be able to perform this arrangement in public later.

Yue Qingyuan knocked gently and wandered into the Bamboo House without asking. Shen Qingqiu gave him a token poisonous glare for the interruption but didn’t let it throw him off his performance.

[+1 B-Point for in-character actions!]

Another point, nice! He wasn’t sure if it was for continuing singing while ignoring his latest guest, or the glare. Luckily, his shixiong never seemed to take it personally when he got snippy at him. Maybe if he ignored him for a while, he’d get the hint and go away for a while so his plotting-fest with his bro wasn’t ruined? Not that he minded Zhangmen-shixiong visiting, he stopped by fairly often for tea, he just didn’t want to see him right now, thanks.

Lost in the music, Qinghua didn’t even notice their extra guest lurking about. Yue Qingyuan settled himself down at the low table set for tea and snacks, while Qinghua joined Shen Yuan in belting out the lyrics from the bridge section with increasingly loud screeching. Shen Yuan increased the volume of his playing to match.

     “Dream on, dream on!
     Dream on, dream until them dreams come true!”

Qinghua sang along for another round of the repetitive chorus, and laughed when it finished, wiping away a stray tear. “Bro, that was beautiful, a song just for me, I love it. It’s like, everything I am right now. And wow, how times change! Fancy us being friends now! Remember when you wrote that I was a pathetic little waste of a man who was going to die alone?”

"I stand by that statement,” Shen Qingqiu said, stretching out his fingers.

"You wouldn't let me die alone, would you, bro?" he whined in reply.

"I might fight to save my shidi from danger, but I wouldn't date you even if both our lives depended on it. Ew."

He smirked evilly, enjoying the nonsense teasing.

"Harsh, but fair. I wasn’t asking you to anyway,” Shang Qinghua said. Turning to go back to their seats at the table, he spotted the sect leader and jerked in startled shock. “Zhangmen-shixiong! Greetings!”

[+20 protagonist satisfaction points.]

Oh cool! I wonder what he’s doing right now that’s making him happy? Maybe he’s spending time with Ning Yingying, Shen Yuan mused. What was his precious protagonist doing right now? Painting, right?

“Perhaps shidi could make some fresh tea for us?” he suggested, waving his precious Pikachu fan at Shang Qinghua. “Luo Binghe would usually do the honours, but he’ll be in painting class right now. I’m looking forward to seeing his latest painting, he’s been working on a depiction of the Bamboo House and it’s going quite well. Hopefully it’ll be finished today.”

“Sure, I’ll heat some water up,” Qinghua said obligingly, wandering off to the kitchen. There was a bit of a clatter that sounded like cupboard doors opening and closing right as he entered. He must be having trouble finding the kettle… or whatever cast iron equivalent kettle his kitchen had, anyway. He left it all up to Binghe; when it came to cooking he was utterly lost without his microwave and rice cooker and wouldn’t even know how to start a fire in the stove if it wasn’t for heating talismans. It shouldn’t take Qinghua long – he used talismans a lot too.

“That was a beautiful song, Xi- Shen Qingqiu,” the sect leader said. “Are you composing one for each of your martial siblings? This shixiong would appreciate a song just for him, as well.”

“This one supposes he could consider it,” he said thoughtfully. He wasn’t sure if it would earn him points or not, but it might be a fun musical exercise in any case. “What kind of song would Zhangmen-shixiong prefer?”

A serene smile accompanied his answer. “Anything that shidi wishes. Though something expressing our history together would be nice, insofar as your memories allow. Or a song that conveys how shidi sees me now, if that suggestion is too challenging.”

“I’ll give it some thought,” he said, tapping his folded fan on his lips. In the kitchen doorway he saw Shang Qinghua repetitively mouthing a word to him, behind Yue Qingyuan’s back, while doing an encouraging little swooping gesture with his free hand that wasn’t holding a teapot.

Obediently copying his knowledgeable author-friend, he added tentatively, “I will try… gege?”

Yue Qingyuan’s eyes widened and glistened with moisture. His bottom lip was trembling. Was that big strong man going to cry?!

“I… This one would be… your gege would be honoured, if you did…” Yue Qingyuan stuttered, before standing and hovering uncertainly near Shen Qingqiu for a moment. Shen Yuan, still seated, leant away from him a bit, a little uncomfortable at the looming.

“Forgive me, I… I have to go.”

Shen Yuan stared after him as he rushed out the door. He hadn’t even mentioned why he’d come to visit in the first place. Maybe it was just for a chat and some tea?

“I don’t understand that man,” he complained to Shang Qinghua, who had emerged from the kitchen and was pouring them some fresh tea. “What was that ‘gege’ thing all about?”

“Fastest way to get him to leave was to make him struggle to keep his serene mask,” Shang Qinghua said matter-of-factly, as he sat down with a satisfied air. “I know how all my children tick. And boy, you’re never going to believe the history I had written for the two of you! Let me fill you in on some premium unpublished lore.”

-000-

Yue Qingyuan left him alone for a couple of days after that incident, but was back again late one afternoon at twilight, the sun setting in a glorious show of pink and lavender clouds in an orange-tinged sky, with the mountains casting long dark shadows over the tiny village in the valley far below.

“Would Zhangmen-shibo like to try some candied wintermelon?” Binghe offered politely, hovering helpfully to serve them both tea and snacks.

The sect leader tried a piece, but didn’t really take to it and didn’t take a second helping. Shen Yuan gave Binghe an apologetic smile and took a small handful for his own plate. Ah, it was an acquired taste, he supposed! The texture was strange, kind of a crunchy, chewy exterior, with a jelly-like texture in the middle. He found it sweet but in a refreshing way, a bit like a sweet cucumber. Shang Qinghua hadn’t liked it much either and had given him shit about liking a ‘peerless cucumber’ snack. Okay so the taste was vaguely similar, but it was made from melon, so it didn’t even count!

With refreshments sorted, Binghe settled down to work on a painting near a window on the western wall where the light was still good enough to paint by. It looked like he’d been inspired by the beautiful sunset and was layering some clouds onto his mountain scene.

“I had another talk with Mu Qingfang,” the sect leader said, politely sipping his tea. “He suggested that more exposure to situations you were very familiar with may help spur more of your lost memories into returning. People, places… even conversations that had repetitive elements to them or that had left a strong emotional impression.”

Shen Qingqiu shifted uncomfortably and glanced over at Binghe.

Yue Qingyuan tutted. “Come now, there’s no need to fret over your disciple overhearing this, surely? It’s not a private medical matter when half of Cang Qiong knows. As Luo Binghe lives with you I have no doubt he has long since noticed some of the differences.”

“This disciple has indeed noticed, Zhangmen-shibo,” Binghe said, “but it does not follow that this disciple thinks it is a problem. Shizun is fine just the way he is. And happier.” There was a bit of a bite to that last sentence, but not enough for anyone to plausibly take offence over.

Shen Qingqiu looked nervously back at his martial brother. Does he miss the Original Goods? He must, surely, if he wants the ‘old me’ back with all the associated memories. Which isn’t going to happen. Couldn’t happen. Could it?

“I accept you however you are,” his shibo said soothingly, “and it is true that you often seem happier like this, with some… harder memories all washed away. Yet I know many pieces of you remain strong. You play guqin in the same style as before, even when playing new compositions. Your calligraphy is the same, and so are your sword moves. Yes, your fighting style has lost something with the change, it is more disciplined now – not worse, just different. But it’s not a bad thing to remember how important it is to win at all costs, Xiao Jiu. What you went through didn’t break you, it made you stronger. Tempered, like fine steel.”

Shen Qingqiu scrunched up his nose disapprovingly. “I’m not a sword. And maybe I don’t want to remember.”

“You can’t help but remember, though,” Yue Qingyuan said. “It comes through in bits and pieces, doesn’t it? Don’t worry – Mu Qingfang says there’s no chance it will come back like a flood of memories to overwhelm you… drown you. That won’t happen. However, with guidance and prompts we could perhaps guide the process of reclaiming fragments of memories.”

Over against the wall Binghe made a small thoughtful noise. He was neglecting his painting.

Shameless eavesdropper, Shen Qingqiu thought, a little grumpily.

Yue Qingyuan got his attention back by touching his elbow lightly, and Shen Qingqiu pulled away sharply. “It’s interesting how sometimes when I say or do things you react just like you used to. Even when you don't even know why you're responding that way. Wouldn’t you rather understand that? You never liked being ignorant.”

He scowled. “I’m not ignorant.”

“Tell me honestly, what do you think and feel when I call you ‘Xiao Jiu’?”

“I… I don’t know. I don’t like it, I guess.” This much honesty he could give him.

“Why?”

“No reason,” he said, looking shifty. He didn’t want to admit that it wasn’t his name, and when he heard it, it was like Yue Qingyuan was trying to talk to a person who didn’t exist anymore.

“Did I like it before?” he asked, curiously.

Yue Qingyuan unexpectedly gives a wry smile. “No, not really. Not for a long time. How do you feel about ‘Shen Qingqiu’?”

“I like the ‘Shen’ part the most,” he answered, with nervous sincerity. He wondered if Shen Jiu had felt the same, what with his history with the Qiu family that Shang Qinghua had mostly glossed over as ‘terrible abuse of all kinds’.

“I feel like it fits me the best. Does that seem odd to you, or in… in line with how I felt before?”

Don’t say ‘in-character’! he chided himself.

“Not at all.” Yue Qingyuan’s smile was soft and encouraging. Shen Yuan had a hunch he’d spent the past couple of days practising for this talk, maybe brainstorming his approach with Mu Qingfang.

He sighed, shoulders hunched and his hands cradling his cup of warm tea. The warmth was soothing on his hands… grounding. “I don’t want to remember. The Qius, his… my childhood. I don’t want to. I don’t think I can, but even if I could, I wouldn’t want to.”

“Not all of it is bad,” Yue Qingyuan promised, failing to hide a certain nervousness, his smile a little too fixed. “You remember… what do you remember about the Qius?”

He glanced meaningfully over at Luo Binghe before continuing, “No need to go into too much detail, of course.”

Shen Qingqiu shrugged. “I can’t give detail anyway. I only know the bare bones of my past, and it’s like a summary of a story told to me by a stranger. I know some facts, but I don’t have the emotions attached to them. I… I’m not angry at you, if that helps. You probably know what I’m talking about, right?”

Yue Qingyuan shuddered… he literally shook, his shoulders trembling. In a broken voice he said, “I think I might, yes. And I appreciate that a lot, Xia… Shen-shidi.”

“Don’t have a qi deviation on me now,” Shen Yuan said, with a nervous laugh. He glanced over at Binghe, who was determinedly pretending not to be listening to every single word they were saying. “I got lucky with Liu Qingge, but I’m really not an expert at fixing them. Let’s not have any heavy conversations right now, alright?”

Wiping his teary eyes and visibly pulling himself together, Yue Qingyuan agreed with a curt nod. After a quiet pause to drink tea and calm down, the sect leader had a proposal to make.

“When I was talking with Mu Qingfang we realised that you hadn’t left the mountain in some time to visit your ah… friends.”

Shen Qingqiu snorted. “What friends? I don’t have friends.”

Yue Qingyuan glanced over at Luo Binghe, who was intently dabbing spots of pink delicately onto his painting. “Shizhi is excused,” he ordered brusquely.

“Shizun?”

He waved an apologetic hand. “Your shibo clearly wants more privacy for the rest of this talk. Binghe may go to his room.”

“Yes, Shizun.”

In a low voice, Yue Qingyuan explained after he’d left, “I was referring to the ladies of the Warm Red Pavilion. Shidi hasn’t visited them in years, ever since your qi deviation, unless you’ve been more discreet than either I or Mu Qingfang are aware of. You should go and see them again, to discover if it prompts some memories to return. Happy ones.”

Yue Qingyuan looked almost as uncomfortable as he himself felt right now, blushing and avoiding eye contact.

[+20 Protagonist Anger Points! -20 Protagonist Satisfaction Points.]

Shit! Is that little b… is Binghe eavesdropping?! Shen Qingqiu thought angrily, his mind a panicked whirl. He stiffened defensively in his seat, whipping out his fan to hide his outraged expression. System, what’s with this new points category, anyway?!

“This master is not a lecher,” he hissed angrily, as quietly as possible.

“So you’ve said, Xiao Jiu. Many times before when we’ve had similar conversations,” Yue Qingyuan said. He looked rather delighted by that fact.

“I have?”

A nod.

“Well, I’m not going,” he stated decisively. “I don’t remember going, and I don’t see the point in remembering any of that sort of thing, even if I ah… indulged in the past, it’s not who I am now.”

[+5 Protagonist Satisfaction Points.]

Sweet relief! See, Binghe! This master is not a lecher! No throwing this poor transmigrator into the Water Prison, please and thank you!

[If host does not visit the Warm Red Pavilion and spend the night there, he will automatically fail the quest ‘A good night’s sleep’ and suffer a 500 point deduction!]

He froze up again. He couldn’t afford to lose that many points with the Immortal Alliance Conference looming ever closer!

System, I completed that quest ages ago! I sang Binghe to sleep, remember?

[Quest is incomplete.]

Oh crap, I remember now, I never got the points for that, did I?

[Correct! Host may still complete the quest for a reward of 50 B-Points!]

How is that fair?! 50 points is nothing! I already lost twenty from Binghe overhearing the suggestion I go there! I’ll lose even more if I actually visit there and he thinks of me as the scummy, abusive, lecherous teacher of his past! It’s daylight robbery, you duplicitous, microtransaction-shilling, point-robbing son of a transistor!

[If host wishes to avoid angering the protagonist, host will have to be discreet leaving Qing Jing Peak.]

“Is shidi sure he won’t try?” Yue Qingyuan asked in a confidential, coaxing whisper. “Shidi need not do anything he’s ah… uncomfortable with.”

Lips thin, he shook his head in refusal then gave a jerky, angry nod to Yue Qingyuan. It was a mess of mixed signals, but Yue Qingyuan seemed to somehow divine the correct meaning and gave him a more genuine smile than usual at his implicit compliance. He seethed with anger at being forced into this situation. What would he have to do? How many more points would his System take away if he refused? Would he be forced into sex – his first time – with some heavily perfumed, squishy prostitute simpering at him despite her dead eyes at being used?! He felt sick at the thought.

“Xiao Jiu, I appreciate–”

His anger boiled over, and his hands clenched with rage. “Stop calling me that! Your ‘Xiao Jiu’ died years ago!” he yelled.

In a panic, he clapped his hands over his mouth. Fuck! What am I saying?! I didn’t mean to tell him that terrifyingly painful truth! System, please don’t take away my precious points! His anger drained away in the rush of fear. He only needed two thousand more to save Luo Binghe from the Endless Abyss, he couldn’t afford to be nickel and dimed to death and certainly couldn’t weather any massive deductions from hinting at his transmigration!

“I… I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I said that, obviously I’m still alive!” Shen Yuan babbled nervously. “Just nonsense, please forgive me, I told you… what I mean is that I just can’t get those memories back.”

Yue Qingyuan was openly sobbing now, having burst into deep ugly tears. He wasn’t a pretty crier, all red and blubbery. “It’s alright, Xi… Xiao Shen. It worked just fine. It’s good to know your past is still in there somewhere. It’s not the first time you’ve said things like that, and your Qi-ge will try to listen better in the future than he has in the past.”

Fuck. The guilt was immense. His shixiong’s Xiao Jiu was gone and Yue Qingyuan didn’t even understand so he could properly mourn his loss.

“Next time, gege,” he ordered, “you’re just going to visit and have tea and pretend everything is fine and enjoy some music, like usual.”

“Your gege would like that.”

Yue Qingyuan fled after that. Thank goodness Shang Qinghua’s ‘gege’ trick still worked for getting him out of awkward conversations in a hurry. He wondered if it might wear off eventually if he overused it.

It didn’t get rid of Binghe, though, who crept back out of hiding as soon Yue Qingyuan was gone.

“Is Shizun alright?” he checked.

“As well as I can be. My mind feels like a bit of a mess right now,” he admitted.

“Shizun could play a song? Something new? That always makes you happy,” Binghe suggested.

It’s a good idea, he agreed silently.

He moved over to his guzheng and picked out a soothing tune from a video game he’d really liked. It was a sweet and calming song about jellyfish bobbing in the waves under the moonlight; a purely instrumental song with no lyrics.

“You know what else makes me happy?” he said, as he tried a sequence again, trying to get the notes right. “My disciple not eavesdropping on private conversations.”

Binghe flushed guiltily. “I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry, Shizun!” he whined, a sparkle of tears suddenly in his eyes like diamonds. “I just have good hearing, I guess.”

Ah, demonic-level hearing, perhaps? Well, I suppose if he can’t help it there’s not much to be done except to send him further away if I want to have private talks in the future.

“Mn. It’s alright, Binghe, I understand. Just do your best to give more privacy when its specifically requested.”

“Can this disciple ask a question? If it’s not too personal?”

“Go ahead.”

How did this song go, again? I must have heard it dozens of times at every festival, grinding away at those friendship points talking to everyone there.

“This one was wondering how Shizun manages to know so many skills despite losing the memories of gaining those skills?”

“Good question... I will answer it if you promise not to share my answer with anyone. Including but not limited to the sect leader and Mu-shidi.”

His curiosity is understandable. Part of him has to be worried that his old, abusive master will come back one day. I’ll give you what reassurance I can, my poor little white lotus.

Binghe nodded eagerly, creeping closer to sit right next to where he was playing. “This one promises!”

“I… when I was first recovering from my qi deviation I didn’t remember… many things at first. It took some time to regain full use of my skills. At least, I think I have regained them. I didn’t want to admit I’d… that I didn’t have some skills, so I practiced in secret. Zhangmen-shixiong seems to believe there’s something still lacking in my sword-fighting, so perhaps not everything is back to its prior standard. I’m not entirely sure about my weiqi skills either, to be honest.”

“Shizun is perfect! There is nothing that needs improvement when someone is perfection itself!” Binghe blurted out, then looked embarrassed.

Sweet child! He coughed, a little embarrassed himself by the overblown praise. Best to just ignore it.

“Well, Binghe asked how I relearnt so many skills. My process was – and is – rather simple. I just try and relax – a sort of standing meditation, I suppose – and try to let my mind drift away and let my instincts guide me. I start doing something and just… let myself go, for a moment. Thinking hard about how Shen Qingqiu – me, that is – how I’m a master of something and this is easy for me, and I let my hands just move how feels natural to me. Then after some initial breakthroughs like that for different skills I can consolidate the results with practice until it all feels natural and it’s just me, it’s my skill, not something from a forgotten memory.”

“It sounds a bit like developing a golden core, Shizun,” Binghe said, still a little pink-cheeked. “A different kind of meditation, but still… still absorbing only the best things from the universe and making them yours. Refining the gold and breathing out the dross.”

“You might be right! And practice makes one perfect!” he replied cheerfully, pausing his playing to ruffle Binghe’s hair again, making a complete mess of it.

“Shizun, stop teasing me!” Binghe whined cutely, but he leant into his hand as if he didn’t mean a single word of his complaint.

[+1 Protagonist Satisfaction Point.]

I knew it!

Chapter Text

He’d had to covertly exchange messages with Yue Qingyuan just to find out where the Warm Red Pavilion was located, which wasn’t in the tiny village at the bottom of the Cang Qiong mountain range as he’d unconsciously expected, but in a larger city a few hours’ travel away. In preparation for his discreet outing, he’d sent Binghe away on a two-day night hunt to make eluding judgement easier on himself. The trip to the city was rather fun on a swiftly flown sword, if hell on his wind-whipped hair! He felt like a long-haired surfer, balanced precariously but with consummate skill as he zoomed through the sky, riding the invisible currents in the air.

He smoothed down his errant locks and then tucked a cloak over his head in an attempt at anonymity. The Warm Red Pavilion wasn’t too hard to spot in the end, thanks to decent directions and the distinctive glow of the red lanterns hung out the front of the premises, a notorious indication of the kinds of services that were available for the discerning customer. At least it looked like a high-class sort of place; it was an elegant building with intricately carved window frames and the title of the building painted in gold on the lintel.

A smiling young lady in her mid-twenties with bright red lipstick greeted him with a bow as he entered. “Greetings, gongzi! This one’s name is Peng Meifeng! What can the Warm Red Pavilion offer gongzi this evening?”

He looked around nervously, clutching the hood of his cloak like a security blanket and avoiding the gaze of the smiling young prostitute in the sheer silk robes that clung embarrassingly tightly to her lithe figure. There were red and pink curtains draped everywhere between decoratively carved pillars, festooning the lounge area with soft elegance and creating intimate little nooks where men young and old sat at low tables to share tea or wine, laughter, and a bit of flirting with silk-clad beautiful young ladies. On a small stage a young lady in a modest robe was playing traditional classical music on a pipa, while two others danced with elegant curving motions of their arms and swaying of their hips. The soft scent of some musky incense hung in the air. It wasn’t quite as bad as he’d feared, honestly! No-one was naked, and no-one was going at it right in front of him. He relaxed a little bit; it could have been so much worse.

“I’m not interested in paying for the company of women this evening,” he said, as politely as he could, in a firm and deep voice. “I just want to… talk. With some young ladies here that I may have visited before.”

“Many of the ladies here would be delighted to share tea and casual conversation with you for a very reasonable price, gongzi, or perhaps a game of weiqi if you like,” she reassured him, her voice practised and soothing. “Is there a special lady gongzi would like to request? Unless you would prefer the company of a handsome young man? Li Cheng is available to entertain–”

“I don’t like men,” he said stiffly. “Not like that.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said calmly, “such a handsome young man would be a loss to womankind if he was a cut-sleeve! Now, if gongzi could spare a tael for entry to the Warm Red Pavilion and lower his hood to show his distinguished face so that this Peng Meifeng can determine that he is not one of the ruffians banned from this establishment, it would be greatly appreciated.”

Glancing just behind her he noticed a rather buff young lady armed with a sword lurking in a curtained alcove, watching him with narrowed eyes. Some kind of cultivation-skilled bouncer, he guessed.

He sighed and, turning his back to the crowd, he raised his hood enough to display his face properly.

“Oh! It’s our A-Jiu!” the young lady said, her face lighting up with genuine pleasure. “We haven’t seen you in years, A-Jiu!”

She reached out to grab at his arm, and he flinched away from her and drew back before she could clutch it. “I don’t… that is, I’m not looking for that,” he said awkwardly. “I really just wanted to talk.”

“A-Jiu? It is you, isn’t it?” she asked, nervously biting her bottom lip. “Are you alright? Is that ill-mannered brute following and spying on you this evening or something?” She gave a commanding nod to the bouncer, who stepped outside briefly to check outside the building for lurking troublemakers.

“This master’s name is Shen Qingqiu – Shen Jiu – but I ah, I have experienced some memory loss following a qi deviation, and someone recommended that I used to come here but I really don’t want any company, if you know what I mean…”

“Oh, you poor thing,” she cooed sympathetically. “Don’t worry, A-Jiu, no-one here will impose on you in the slightest. This isn’t that kind of place, and almost all the jiejies here know your preferences well.”

He let out a shuddering, relieved breath at clearing the first hurdle. “Thanking Xiaojie for her consideration.”

[+5 B-Points for in-character actions!]

Really, System? And here he thought his nervousness had ruined everything!

She nodded decisively, and clapped her hands, summoning one of the nearby young women in a peach hanfu who was just standing around looking pretty and fanning herself. “Cao Chunhua! Tell Madam Zhao that A-Jiu is here–”

“A-Jiu!” Cao Chunhua chirped happily, interrupting and rushing towards him excitedly, her jade necklace clattering with the swift movement, before Peng Meifeng held up a stern hand to stop her.

“No, meimei! He has suffered a qi deviation and lost some memories; go upstairs and warn the madam and some of the other girls accordingly. Oh, and tell little Kong Xiaolian that she can try out A-Jiu as her first customer, it should help with her nerves. Help her prepare A-Jiu’s usual room for later.”

Cao Chunhua looked at him with mournful eyes, before bowing formally and scurrying away. He noticed she grabbed another girl to gossip with, heads bent down close together as they headed upstairs, presumably in search of the madam of the brothel.

“You understand that I won’t be um… doing anything with some poor young girl?” he checked with stiff disapproval. “I just want to sleep, maybe have some tea. Talk with people, that’s all.”

“Of course, A-Jiu, this jiejie remembers,” Peng Meifeng promised gently. “We will treat your visit today much like it was your first time all over again. Xiaolian will just practice serving tea and entertaining you with music or dance, nothing more. She will appreciate the calm of a non-demanding customer, being new to this life.”

That sounds alright! Much better than I expected!

With another lady smoothly replacing her position at the front door, she led him over to a table, and a few of the women waved discreetly or blew him flirtatious kisses as he passed. Shen Qingqiu seemed genuinely very popular here! One lady, a little older than the others – probably in her thirties was his best guess, but her heavy makeup made his estimate difficult – brought over tea at Peng Meifeng’s covert coded flick of her fingers, smiling at him a little sadly but excusing herself afterwards without a word.

“The lady who brought the tea was Xiang Qiaolian,” she said quietly, after the woman had already left. “Your A-Lian, as you used to call her. That or ‘jiejie’, as you addressed many of us, including myself. Do you remember her at all? You spent many hours tutoring her on the guzheng, over years of visits.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember anyone here,” he apologized. “I do know I visited here a lot, and that I uh… had a reputation for lechery.”

She shook her head in gentle negation. “Lies. Likely spread by that useless sect leader of yours, or that Bai Zhan brute you liked to complain about over wine. You never touched a woman here beyond a kiss on the forehead, or to embrace us as you slept – just slept – for comfort and the warmth of holding another person in a life that you found otherwise very lonely and isolating.”

He blinked. Oh? Really?!

“The young men here like Li Cheng – he’s new, by the way – were also never permitted in your room, and you never laid so much as a finger on them, though you always did enjoy watching their dances. Cheng-di is quite flexible you know,” she added, with a teasing gleam in her eyes.

Madam Zhao was a dignified middle-aged lady with greying hair, who offered her hands and waited patiently for him to take them and give them a gentle squeeze before deigning to seat herself at their table. Peng Meifeng ran through the situation again for her, and Shen Qingqiu added some additional explanations to round things out, and the old madam gave a melancholy sigh.

“Well, old things are new again,” she said, sounding wistful. “I did wonder why we hadn’t seen you in so long, but you always insisted if you went quiet for a time we shouldn’t contact you at your mountain for the sake of your fragile reputation. Don’t worry, A-Jiu, the jiejies here will all look after you like you are their own precious younger brother. If your sect leader thinks familiar things may jog your memory, we shall treat you to a typical evening. With of course no more than the usual compensation expected…?”

At that hint he fished out his money pouch, and let the madam take what she wanted, which she did with a tinkling laugh. “This is the standard price for your typical night’s stay,” she said, showing the handful of coins in her palm. “And if I didn’t believe you before about having lost your memories I would now, after handing over your whole purse to a stranger without a qualm!”

It was one of the pleasantest evenings he’d ever had, with the exception of the cuisine which of course couldn’t hold a candle to Luo Binghe’s but was tasty enough. He drank tea, feasted on sweet pastries, listened to Xiang Qiaolian perform on the guzheng, and had a succession of jiejies stop by his table whenever they had a free moment from their customers to share what they remembered of him and his visits, eager to jog his memory or failing that, to build it anew.

Cao Chunhua chattered about how she used to do his hair, while poking at and admiring his current style (which was done up with a new hair crown gifted by Yue Qingyuan that she hadn’t seen before).

“I taught you a few new styles, which you would practice on me and your other jiejies.”

He nodded politely. “I do find my hair a constant trial,” he confessed.

“I shall teach you them again later this evening in your room, if you would like?” she offered, with shy eyes.

“Gladly, jiejie.”

Xiang Qiaolian stopped by briefly for a tea break in a small gap between sets to list a few of his favourite songs that he’d taught to the girls. She showed subdued happiness to hear that he still remembered how to play at least some of them.

“I will play one for you later,” he promised, when she pleaded to hear him play again, “and you can tell me if my style has changed.”

Young Peng Meifeng spoke of how he provided cheap medicines for ‘feminine complaints’ on request when the ladies of the Warm Red Pavilion had ‘troubles’, then fetched the even younger Kong Xiaolian to meet him.

She was a shy young wide-eyed meimei in pale pink who had to be younger even than Luo Binghe! He patted her head, which made her giggle.

“Don’t worry, meimei, I have no ill intentions towards anyone here,” he promised her earnestly. “We shall just have a nice evening with tea and music, hm?”

“Yes, A-Jiu!” she agreed, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’m helping get your room ready. The jiejies promise you are the best customer, and I got to cancel giving a massage to a wrinkly old man, so this meimei is very happy you are here tonight.”

Poor thing. He gave her more headpats, and one of his pastries.

Another girl to stop by and next to him for a while, Shi Yu, said simply that she missed him, with a choked voice.

“I prayed for your safe return, A-Jiu,” she said earnestly, giving him a tight hug.

What a sweetheart!

Madam Zhao Xifeng shared how his visits to their establishment started back when Shen Qingqiu was merely young Shen Jiu, disciple of Qing Jing Peak.

“You were anxious for a safe space to sleep away from the loud disciples’ quarters, too overcrowded with boisterous young men. Men frightened you back then, and too many of them would try and grab you and demand you spar with them, or even simply jostle you in a friendly but alarming way,” she explained gently and quietly. “You didn’t tolerate roughhousing in any form. Between that and some bullying you had a great deal of trouble sleeping there and escaped whenever you could spare the time and money to visit us.”

Shen Yuan avoided her eyes, looking down in his teacup like it could divine his future. “I believe Shen Jiu, that is… that I had some negative experiences with young master Qiu, many years ago before I joined the sect. Though I don’t know exactly what happened, I believe he imposed himself in some way upon me, though I don’t believe he did… everything. I know he definitely beat me a lot.”

Shang Qinghua had been unhelpfully vague about Shen Jiu’s time with the Qius but his hint that the young master had inflicted ‘unpleasant abuse of all kinds’ was suggestive of sexual abuse of some sort as well as physical violence.

“Perhaps that is why… I was nervous in the past. I don’t find myself so afflicted in the present day, fortunately. My troubles of the past are but a dry summary to me, not something I recall enough to feel upset about.”

“You never told me his name,” Madam Zhao said, her eyebrows arched. “If you still remember it, will you share his full name now, so that we may be sure to bar him from this establishment?”

“Qiu Jianluo,” he replied quietly. “Though I believe he has long since passed away, survived only by his sister.”

“Good riddance, then,” she said, asking no difficult questions about how or why he was dead, which was probably for the best. “And you tolerate men’s company better these days, you say?”

“One of my disciples – Luo Binghe – shares my Bamboo House with me. He sleeps in the side room and tends my house perhaps more than he should. He at least is good company. And I believe I get along better with my martial siblings now, notably the sect leader who is popping around for tea as often as his duties allow, and the ‘Bai Zhan brute’ too, if Liu Qingge is who you meant by that. He’s not much of a conversationalist, but he visits from time to time and gifts animals from some of his hunts. I saved his life a couple of years ago, and he feels honour-bound to join me in mending our fractured relationship as a result of that, I believe.”

Madam Zhao hummed thoughtfully at that, then called over one of the girls he hadn’t been introduced to yet – there were so many of them!

“Some sweet chilled plum wine for the table,” she ordered, “and tell Xiang Qiaolian to play accompaniment while our star Li Cheng dances with our sweet Hou Mingzhu.”

The young man performed an acrobatic and occasionally suggestive sword dance for the crowd, while the young lady swirled around the edges of the stage with her long sleeves fluttering like a butterfly in the wind.

Shen Yuan watched with fascination, while absent-mindedly answering a few of the madam’s curious questions about Luo Binghe.

Li Cheng was a lithe, muscular young man in a white red-trimmed top and dark pants, and he wore a charming, charismatic smile as he whipped the thin-bladed sword around his body while spinning in mesmerizing circles, his high ponytail swishing about as he leapt around the stage. It reminded him a bit of Liu Qingge’s simple but beautiful hairstyle! He applauded as the smiling young man tumbled around doing cartwheels and flips in the air, swishing his sword at imaginary opponents before dropping to the ground in a split that hopefully wasn’t as painful as it looked! It was a lovely combination of fierce swordwork and dextrous grace. At the end of the performance as he took his bows, Li Cheng directed a flirtatious wink to him with a bright smile that reminded him oddly of Luo Binghe, though really they didn’t look that much alike. He knew better than to take any flirty winks personally, the poor man was just doing his job!

“What did you think of the performance?” the madam asked conversationally, sipping her wine. It really was nice of her to keep him company all this time!

“He was excellent,” Shen Qingqiu observed. “If he was fighting he’d want better follow through on those sword thrusts, but of course for a dance it is unnecessary. Finishing those moves with a leap forward across the stage would add drama, as an alternative suggestion! Also, he looked quite tight across the shoulders in some places – he must remember to keep his shoulders loose and down, and to stretch both before and after his practices. Movements should be fluid like water at all times.”

“And Hou Mingzhu?” she asked, eyes glancing at him over the lip of her wine cup.

He blinked. “Oh, the young lady? Yes, a very pretty dance.”

Is Madam Zhao smirking at me?

“There was so much to watch!” he complained defensively.

“I didn’t say a word. Would you like to meet Li Cheng?” she asked.

“I see no need for that,” he replied, wary of her intentions. “I’m not a cut-sleeve, you know.”

“Of course not, A-Jiu. But if you have no fear of men it won’t hurt to share a polite greeting now, will it?”

Huffing at her trap, he drained the last of the wine in his cup and reluctantly agreed.

“Li Cheng, this is our A-Jiu of whom you have heard tales.”

“It is an honour, gongzi,” the handsome young man said, bowing politely. His ponytail looked a little crooked, and Shen Yuan’s hands itched to fix it like he would for Binghe (though not for Liu Qingge, who always got red-cheeked and told him not to be so fussy). His face was lightly powdered, though a little marred by sweat, and his lips glistened in the soft candlelight, moistened by some kind of oily lip balm.

“The pleasure is mine,” he replied politely. What did one say to become better acquainted with a male prostitute? Should he give tips on his performance? It was different with the slightly dishevelled young man standing right in front of him. What if he took offence?

“Your dance was very good,” he eventually offered. Not everyone appreciated a direct critique! He’d leave it to the madam to relay his thoughts. “You must have practiced a great deal.”

“Young man, your hair is coming loose,” the sharp-eyed madam tutted. “Let A-Jiu fix it for you. You don’t mind helping, do you? My old fingers are not as adroit as they once were.”

“Of course not,” he replied. The man sat next to him, and turned away so he could reach more easily.

His hair was long and silky, smooth and smelling faintly of sweat and some richly spiced oil he had no chance of identifying. Shen Yuan tidied his hair back into its pretty silver guan, pinning it more firmly in place so it wouldn’t come loose in a hurry. “There you go, all fixed.”

“My hero! Whatever can I do to repay this service, gongzi?” the young man purred, a smile on his face as he leant in a little too close for comfort.

He leant away nervously. “Um. Nothing.”

“That will be all,” Madam Zhao said, calmly but firmly, and the young man rose and took himself off with a bow and a smile.

“I thought you weren’t scared of men now, A-Jiu?” she observed teasingly.

“He was flirting with me!” he pointed out defensively.

“Yes, that is his job.”

“The ladies here don’t do that with me.”

The madam tilted her head at that but didn’t reply directly. “Well, it is getting late. I shall have Kong Xiaolian lead you upstairs if you don’t mind – she needs the practice – and Cao Chunhua will supervise her as a senior jiejie here since he doesn’t have any of her regular clients here tonight. Some other girls may join you if and when they can.”

Kong Xiaolian clung cutely and led him upstairs by the hand, giggling and smiling as they went. His room was a large and grand one, with an obscenely large bed. Orgy-sized, Shen Yuan would call it! Cao Chunhua supervised as the younger girl offered for him to change into a more comfortable robe for sleeping, which was provided as a courtesy loan by the brothel. He changed behind a bamboo and paper screen and emerged to find Cao Chunhua setting up hair care supplies.

It was much more like a slumber party than an orgy! They all did each other’s hair, lounged around in pyjamas – okay thin sleeping robes but it was close enough – shared gossip, and listened to music.

The brothel’s best guzheng had been set up in the room for his convenience, and when Xiang Qiaolian retreated from the hubbub of the brothel to the safety of the slumber party in his room, he drew on buried instincts and played ‘Dialogue Between the Fisherman and the Woodcutter’ for her at her request, which she swore was at least as good as it had always been.

He plucked a melody that ebbed and flowed like a conversation, evoking an air of pastoral scenes and simple pleasures. Peng Meifeng joined in on a xiao, a recorder-like instrument of a long hollowed-out piece of bamboo with drilled holes. Her clear notes wound back and forth as a complement to his playing, often echoing the main melody, while Xiang Qiaolian listened raptly.

“Another, A-Jiu?” she pleaded. “This one always learns so much from listening to you play! How about ‘Three Stanzas on Plum Blossoms’? Do you remember it, it was a favourite of yours! You said you loved how the blossoms emerged in defiance of the bitter, cold winter. That they embodied perseverance through hardship.”

“I painted some recently,” he mused, trying to zone out and think of plum blossoms while plucking tentatively at the guzheng strings. “It came out well.”

“I have one of your paintings of blossoms in my room!” Shi Yu said excitedly.

“Then you’re very lucky,” Shen Qingqiu replied. “I don’t give out my paintings often.”

The song came together with a little work, a gentle, quiet melody with notes dropping here and there like falling blossoms drifting down in swirls of an intermittent breeze. It was a long, unobtrusive song perfect for subtle background music while the jiejies lounged around, talking and laughing with each other. Some had to go after visiting for only an hour or so, sighing with disappointment, but young Kong Xiaolian and Cao Chunhua seemed to be intent on staying for as long as possible.

“Don’t you have to go?” he hinted, as the night wore on and he grew tired and began yawning, his head muzzy from too much wine and not enough sleep. “It’s rather late.”

“We’re staying with you, of course,” Cao Chunhua replied, matter-of-factly. “We’ll sleep beside you and just cuddle a little. We’re your jiejies. Well, I am. A-Lian is your meimei, she’s so new!”

The teenager giggled at him again.

Silly little thing, he thought fondly, patting her hair.

“Alright, but no bad touching,” he warned dozily. The life of a teenage prostitute wasn’t something he could easily change, but he could at least not make things worse for her. Or for himself. He was nervous too.

“We promise,” Chunhua vowed, and led him to bed, slipping under the covers beside him while her meimei took his opposite side.

It was odd, but not so different to a sleepover with his sister, Shen Yuan concluded, as they nestled against his sides and chest like warm living dakimakura. They all closed their eyes at peace with the world.

He woke in the morning very well rested, with his System chiming happily in his mind.

[+50 B-Points! Quest: A good night’s sleep is complete!]

Chapter Text

Binghe didn’t catch him sneaking back onto Qing Jing Peak the next morning since his disciple was still away, but he did give Shen Qingqiu some odd looks a few days afterwards, once he had returned from his extended night hunt. It made Shen Qingqiu twitch a little guiltily as he re-arranged the ornaments on his merch shelf (formerly a dignified feng shui approved round bookshelf holding only books and ornamental fans) to make room for his new additions, avoiding eye contact as Binghe swept the floors of the Bamboo House clean of undetectable traces of dust.

Does he know something? No, how would he? No-one even knew I was gone! Anyway, I have nothing to be ashamed of.

He paused as he realised what he was doing; fussing with the new merch he’d commissioned and picked up in town. So that was it! Binghe was curious about his new statuettes!

“Binghe, put that broom away; the house is clean enough. Come and have a look at my newest purchases, if you’re curious.”

Eager housekeeper though he was, Binghe was happy enough to instantly comply and bounced over to look. He’d had three new ceramic figurines crafted by a master potter who was good at sculptures, since pottery wasn’t one of the skill sets Shen Qingqiu was an expert in.

He gestured to the first demonic-looking figure, a gangly tall male demon with implausibly wide shoulders and a muscular torso tapering to a lean wasp-like waist. The statuette had been painted almost entirely in black except for the greyish skin, roughly depicting the skin-tight black clothes of his anime counterpart, and his shoulders were adorned with a ruff of black feathers which had been glued on after it had been glazed and fired. The skin was a pale grey, his eyes a sickly yellow, and sharp shark-like teeth showed in his unnaturally wide smile.

“Doesn’t he look cool?! This is Demon Lord Ryuk – not a real demon, just one from a play I watched once,” he added hastily, in case Binghe got the wrong idea and it mucked up his future knowledge of the politics of the demon realms. And as a nice bonus, saying it was from a play instead of a book meant that no-one would be insisting he find a copy for them to read.

You can’t fact-check me! he mentally gloated.

“Lord Ryuk is from a race of demons that have to kill humans to stay alive. In the play he intentionally let loose a demonic artefact in the human realm, a cursed scroll that killed whomever had their name written in it. He was delighted by the entertainment of it all at first, but then in the end when he grew bored he reclaimed it from the corrupted cultivator who’d abused it.”

“He sounds terrible,” Binghe said, looking broody. “What happened to him at the end of the play? Did cultivators kill him?”

“No, he just laughed and flew off back to the demon realm. The cultivator died though.”

“It sounds like a terrible tragedy. What did you like about it enough to commission an artwork for it?”

“Good question! Well, I guess I really liked the story’s plot, the long moral decline step by step of the cultivator, Light. His journey was fascinating, that of someone who started out with the best intentions of only bringing righteous and final justice to the wicked, but who gave in slowly to their worst impulses, killing more and more people with less justification. Ryuk was a death-bringing demon, but that was just his nature. He’s an oddly likeable character, almost an audience stand-in. He’s just there to alleviate his boredom and have fun just like us, to laugh at the chaos while acting almost like a sidekick to the cultivator. Some see him as less evil than the cultivator himself, despite his unrepentant mischievousness and wickedness. What do you think? Who is worse?”

Binghe looked like he was giving it serious thought, despite not knowing the ‘play’ at all. “Both are wicked,” he concluded. “Without more details I cannot decide who is worse. The cultivator should not have become a monster, and the demon could have fought against his nature. It sounds like neither cared about the chaos and death they caused, or the innocents who must have suffered. I am glad it is not a true story, Shizun.”

“Mn. This master enjoys things in stories he would not enjoy living through,” he said, painfully aware of the irony. “Both were wicked, and both could have chosen to do better.”

“I remember you told me once that both demons and humans can be good or bad,” Binghe said thoughtfully. “Who are the other statues of, Shizun?”

Shen Yuan perked up. “This one is Son Wukong!” he said excitedly, cradling his new figurine carefully as he passed it to Binghe to admire.

“The Monkey God? It doesn’t look much like him,” Binghe said doubtfully, with a critical gaze. “This is more like an impossibly muscled man in a shamelessly tattered uniform. No-one looks that strong, Shizun. Why is his hair so yellow and why is he holding a blue rock above his head? They should have made it a peach. What even is that supposed to be, him breaking free of the mountain? You should have given them some reference pictures to work from, Shizun.”

“…I did,” he sniffed, offended. From a drawer he pulled out his painting he supplied to the artist – he’d asked for it to be returned afterwards – and passed it to Binghe, who was looking at him with anxious, repentant puppy eyes.

It was his lovingly painted depiction of Goku going full Super Saiyan, battered and bruised and practically shirtless in his ripped orange uniform, in the middle of summoning a Spirit Bomb above his head. He’d owned an awesome lamp like that back home, and he missed it in the middle of the night sometimes when he had to fumble around with candles.

“I wanted a night pearl for the spirit bomb – the energy technique he’s forming above his head – but I couldn’t find one large enough to fit the scale of the piece at anything even remotely approaching a reasonable price. The sculptor chose a sphere of labradorite instead, which is roughly the right colour and has some lovely iridescence to it.”

“Shizun, this disciple didn’t mean any insult!” Binghe whined plaintively. “It is very unique and looks just like your picture. It will make a lovely addition to your household shrine!”

Shrine?!

“It’s not a shrine, it’s a display.”

“Yes, Shizun.”

“It’s not religious.”

“Understood, Shizun. Shizun, why does Son Wukong look so angry?”

“He’s focused on saving the entire world from destruction. Heroes can be angry sometimes; we’re cultivators, not saints. All men are fallible… myself included.”

Binghe hung his head. “I’m sorry I criticised your artwork, Shizun.”

Shen Qingqiu ruffled his hair, then gave it a little pat. “It’s alright, Binghe. I’m the last person in the world who would ever tell someone off for being too critical of a creative work! I love criticising things! So go ahead – even if it ruffles someone’s feathers that’s how they learn to get better, if they’re willing to listen to constructive feedback. I have two more new additions to my display, do you want to see? I was just unpacking them.”

“Yes, Shizun!” Binghe said, and gave him a little hug. “Thank you for forgiving this disciple.”

He gave his silly student a gentle squish and then let him go. “It’s quite alright. Now, this one – ah! I really wanted to show this to you! – this is from a metalworker, a silversmith in fact as I wanted some fine detail work done.”

He settled the tiny sword – about 15cm long, like a small letter opener – on its little stand. “This is a replica of a real sword – well, a sword of legend – called Xin Mo.”

He’d discussed with Shang Qinghua a couple of emergency backup plans in case he didn’t manage to grind his way to 10,000 B-Points, and one of them was lore dropping whenever he could manufacture a plausible lead-in. He’d commissioned his Xin Mo replica with that in mind.

He waxed lyrical about the powerful sword’s long and bloodied history, its lust for the energy produced by death and by dual cultivation, and its ability to cut through space that permitted travel between the realms. He also pointedly mentioned some details of its last known wielder’s final battle, wounded near-to-death and fighting in a berserk fury against a terrible dragon as they tumbled together into the Endless Abyss right above a particularly spiky-looking mountain range.

Shang Qinghua couldn’t describe its location any better than Shen Yuan could, since he’d forgotten so much of his own work and neither of them had seen the location, obviously, so they were relying on Shen Yuan’s memory of the author’s purple prose about ‘mountains like jagged spears stabbing angrily at the blood-drenched sky’.

“It was safe for the demon lord to use for a time, you see, but in the end he was unable to control the sword’s endless hunger. Consumed by its thirst for blood, with his rage inflamed by the heart devil sword, retreat was no longer something he could even consider; he became just another blood sacrifice to its hunger, and the sword was lost in the Endless Abyss,” Shen Qingqiu concluded.

“It’s very interesting, Shizun,” his innocent bun said. “They put a lot of work into it, I can see! I like the garnets in the hilt.”

He doesn’t like it? He’s not really interested in his golden finger? Well, I guess he doesn’t need it yet! Hopefully he never will. The lore’s planted in his mind now for later, anyway. Just in case.

A little disheartened, he chattered away a little more about it to make sure Binghe wouldn’t forget the critical bits of lore, before moving on.

“This last one,” he said, unpacking the shiny glazed pottery figurine from its soft woollen packaging, “is another Pokémon. This is Mewtwo!”

He put it on the shelf next to his Pikachu, Charizard, Houndoom, Meowth, Zorua, and Phantump. Some were fan favourites he’d become obsessed by right from the first season, while others were later additions with great lore. The potter was making a lot of money off him lately, bringing his reference paintings to life! He’d been considering getting some cast as something similar to his old keychain dangles to hang off the end of Xiu Ya like a sword tassel, but was worried porcelain or jade would shatter, while metal ones might scratch the blade or be too heavy and throw off his balance. It might also ruin his image as a refined master. Something inside him cringed at the thought of being laughed at. His fans with artistic renderings of Pokémon painted on them he could get away with; people just thought they were rare monsters.

“It looks like a furless cat monster,” Binghe observed, “a little like Meowth. I like it! Does this Pokémon have a story you would share with this disciple?”

Shen Yuan arranged Mewtwo next to Pikachu, turning the smooth pale pink and lavender figurine around a little so its long tail wouldn’t get in the way. “Yes, perhaps over tea, Binghe?”

“Yes, Shizun!”

A few minutes later they were settled down for some important info-dumping about Pokémon, as Shen Yuan babbled away to his enraptured disciple, retelling a summary of the first Pokémon movie sanitised for a xianxia audience, all about the monster grown with a blood sacrifice by evil rogue cultivators as a stronger version of the legendary Mew, and how it turned on its abusive creators. He choked up when he retold the ‘legend’ about Xiao Zhi’s dramatic ‘death’ as he was caught in the middle of a battle trying to stop Mew and Mewtwo from fighting, to protect his little friends. Shen Yuan tearily shared how he turned to stone, and how Pikachu and all the Pokémon cried over him and how he was miraculously revived, and Mewtwo’s heart was turned to mercy.

Binghe was looking teary too; he’d heard a number of tales from Pokémon now, and was clearly deeply invested in Xiao Zhi and Pikachu’s friendship.

“That was so touching!” Binghe said, dabbing at his much prettier sparkling tears. “I liked that line, Shizun, that Mewtwo said. Will you write it down for me so I can turn it into some beautiful calligraphy, just like Shizun does?”

“This master would be delighted to,” he promised.

And a day later Luo Binghe proudly hung up on his wall the line that had spoken so deeply to his heart, in beautiful black xin shu script on cream silk:

     “I see now that the circumstances of one's birth are irrelevant. It is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are.”

Shen Qingqiu put a proud hand on Binghe’s shoulder as they admired his new wall hanging.

“Beautiful work, Binghe, and words to live by.”

Hmm, maybe I should commission some merch for Binghe? Something inspiring for him to keep.

-000-

Shen Qingqiu was having fun ‘composing’ (more like arranging covers) of songs as gifts for his fellow peak lords. Shang Qinghua had gotten the first one, and despite Yue Qingyuan’s ongoing hints he’d like a ‘gift song’ as well, he’d been skipped over in favour of Qi Qingqi. He’d visited her for tea at her peak, in pursuit of some sweet B-Points, hoping to either stumble across a hidden plot event, or at least a chance to ‘raise the average IQ of supporting characters’ which the System had long ago pledged rewards for.

Over tea at her peak she’d shared the reason for her invitation; she’d appreciated how he’d dispatched Ning Yingying and the small handful of other female Qing Jing disciples to Xian Shu Peak to join her girls for their annual discreet but informative talk (with help from inner disciples from Qian Cao) about women’s cycles, dual cultivation, and how to guard themselves from unwanted attention when out on missions. She’d praised him that his girls had proven better informed than she’d feared (for which the Original Goods Shen Jiu deserved all the credit), and that she’d had a nice chat with Ning Yingying (for which he deserved the credit; it had been a deliberate attempt to nip in the bud any accusations of impropriety by encouraging her to stay and gossip with her shigu about what a good teacher he was).

As a result their relationship had thawed from frosty disapproval to tentatively polite curiosity, and she’d shared a bit of her past with her amnesia-plagued shixiong; how she’d shaken off her family’s expectations of raising a quiet, filial daughter, and had forsaken an arranged marriage to instead pursue a martial career in the jianghu.

He’d arranged a guzheng-friendly cover of ‘Roar’ by Katy Perry for her as her ‘gift song’, and she’d been delighted by it on visiting his Bamboo House for the maiden performance. Binghe served his favourite candied wintermelon again as a snack, which was developing into his standard snack for visitors, despite its relative unpopularity. He needed to branch out a little!

The next time Liu Qingge visited to clear his meridians Binghe obediently varied his cooking and offered him some of his delicious sweetly-scented osmanthus cakes.

“Thank you, but no, I’ll just have tea,” his shidi said, waving the plate away. “I keep my body and qi pure and mostly eat a simple, plain diet of meat, vegetables, and rice.”

“Oh dear, this disciple didn’t know,” Binghe replied, looking teary-eyed and biting nervously at his bottom lip.

Shen Yuan hurried over to reassure him, putting an arm around his shoulders and quickly leading him to the privacy of the kitchen where he could cry in private.

“This lowly one tries so hard!” Binghe sobbed, leaning in to rest his head on Shen Yuan’s shoulder to hide his tears. “Shizun praises this disciple’s cakes so much, I just thought…”

“Shh, it’s alright! Binghe didn’t know! Hush now, how old are you to be crying like this, hmm?” he said, fishing out a handkerchief to wipe Binghe’s eyes with. “Don’t worry so much, he wasn’t offended, and anyway, you can always make another snack, right? Something simple!”

“There’s no time for that,” Binghe sniffed. “Maybe I can make something different next time, Shizun!”

“There’ll be time if you want to try, Binghe!” he reassured. “I was planning on playing a ‘gift song’ for him after he’s cleared my meridians today.”

“Oh,” Binghe said, not sounding very cheered at all by that suggestion. “Well, I… I have some work to catch up on, Shizun. I was planning to practice playing ‘Cruel God’s Thesis’ on the guqin this evening, but if shishu is staying longer it will cut into my practice time…”

He gave his fretful disciple a comforting pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about any cooking, Binghe. And since I’ll be playing here, why don’t you go and find Ning Yingying and do some practice in the Music Hall?”

They really don’t get enough time together, those two. Time to help things along a little!

Binghe left the Bamboo House with his own guqin in a bag on his back, and a sulky expression.

Liu Qingge, thankfully, was resilient in the face of sub-par snacks and the departure of their potential chef.

He gazed at Shen Qingqiu with an air of quiet contentment as he played a song on the guzheng just for him, singing a tale of a boy who learnt to fight to avenge his family’s deaths at the hands of demons, and to help his sister.

It’s really for the best, Shen Yuan concluded quietly to himself. I don’t know how Binghe would take to hearing that I picked a song called ‘Demon Slayer’ for Liu Qingge. And look at him, that’s a real smile! He loves it!

     “I've found a reason to become strong
     Take me with you, and let's march forward.
     Unforsaken dreams and an unstoppable present
     If I can become stronger for someone
     I'll be thankful to carry all the sadness
     I graspеd what it meant to protect
     While being beaten up by the world
     A crimson flower, bloom proudly and illuminate my fate”

Chapter Text

Shen Qingqiu moved around the classroom full of guqin students, correcting a few people’s postures with a chiding tap of his fan on their backs to encourage them to sit straight, or a hand on their shoulders to encourage them to relax and stop tensing up. He rested one hand on Binghe’s shoulder, pressing it down into a better position. He leant over his back and picked one of Binghe’s hands up to move it to another string.

“Wrong string entirely, Binghe. You can do better than that,” he chided.

“Yes, Shizun!”

There was a snicker from a couple of students behind them, but when he spun around with a warning glare, looking for the bullies, he only saw innocent-looking lambs concentrating on their own guqins.

Binghe was all tense and nervous again now, pink-cheeked at the mocking laughter. He gave his shoulders another little squash, kneading the tight muscles.

Hmph. Poor Binghe, he still doesn’t get along with all his martial siblings. Maybe I should do something to cheer him up? I was saving the merch for his birthday, but aiyah, I’m not supposed to know when that is!

“Shizun, I don’t understand this notation,” Ming Fan called.

He moved along, checking on him and the other students. Binghe always played a little better without his teacher hovering next to him, anyway. Stage fright! It was adorable.

An hour later he was done for the day and ready for a break. Teaching was fun, but exhausting.

Luo Binghe trailed behind him like a little duckling as they returned to the Bamboo House, carrying his Shizun’s guqin for him so that Shen Qingqiu could glide along like an untouchable immortal, all flowing pale green silk drifting gently in the soft cool breeze as he walked smoothly home, his long hair flowing like a banner behind him. The weather was cool with autumn’s chill, and the multiple layers of diaphonous silk garments were increasingly comfortable to wear, and very showy.

“You know you don’t have to carry my things for me, you’re not a servant.”

“This one is your loyal disciple, however!” Binghe insisted.

Sweet duckling! Precious white lotus!

Binghe hovered once they were home, and since he couldn’t be persuaded to go and have fun with his sect siblings and it was too early for dinner, Shen Yuan decided it was as good a time as any to give him the little merch gift he’d had prepared for him.

“Binghe is getting older,” he started. “In only a handful of months he will be off to the Immortal Alliance Conference, and then I believe it will be only a couple of years until he goes through his Guan Li ceremony and is officially an adult.”

Binghe stared at him with rapt attention. “Yes, this one is almost an adult,” he said, his voice cutely lower than its usual pitch. “I’m turning seventeen very soon.” He took a step forward.

Shen Yuan nodded. “Yes, and as this one does not know Binghe’s date of birth”–the winter solstice was the popular fanon–“your master decided this was a good a time as any to offer you a gift.”

“Oh. Well, this one would be honoured!” Binghe said. “This one believes it was some time in winter, but it could be late autumn. Honestly, it is possible that this one is a year or two older than is commonly thought.”

He smiled indulgently, ruffling his hair. Children were so quick to want to be grown up! “I believe Binghe still has some growing to do to match the size of his feet, just like a puppy! You are not grown yet, Binghe.”

“Shizun!” he whined. “This one really is grown, if I was a girl I would have had my Ji Li ceremony years ago and be pinning my hair up just like Ning Yingying!”

Shen Yuan laughed. “Stop being so jealous of your shijie, your time will come!”

I have 8,565 B-Points! I’m very close, Binghe! Your Shizun won’t fail you!

“Do you want your gift now, or shall I wait for winter?”

“Now please, Shizun!” he begged.

Retrieving it from its hiding place in his bedroom, Shen Yuan returned with his small gift, wrapped up in a long green woollen scarf. “The wrapping is a gift too – I thought you could use a new scarf now it’s getting colder. Your old one is a bit tattered. Open it carefully, alright?”

Binghe unwrapped the layered scarf slowly, unwinding it on their cleared low-set dining table. “Oh!”

He retrieved the gift inside with reverent hands. “A sword tassel? No, a yaopei!”

He nodded. “Yes, it’s a waist ornament, a yupei to be precise, since it’s made of jade.”

It was a dangling ornament on braided bamboo-green silk; a little mushroom figurine made of green and white spotted jade, with two big, cute eyes carved on it. The silk tassel had an intricate round brocade knot tied in it, a symbolic wish for a bright future with endless possibilities.

“It’s lovely, Shizun, I… this one will treasure it always. Is it a Pokémon? Can Shizun explain what it represents? This one is sure there is a story or song to accompany it.”

Binghe leant in cautiously, looking a little teary and in search of a hug which Shen Yuan was happy to provide. “Happy early birthday, Luo Binghe.”

He clung tightly as he said, his voice muffled in his Shizun’s shoulder, “Thank you, Shizun!”

“You’re welcome.” Shen Yuan gave his hair a pat. “Tch, your hair is a mess due to all that wind! You should tie it back in a ponytail or braid more often on a day like this. Sit and I will brush it out and tell you the tale to go with your mushroom ornament. It’s not a Pokémon, by the way.”

Well, I can tell him something vaguely resembling a tale. It’s not like I can tell him it’s a 1-Up from Super Mario, and I loved it to pieces and had one dangling on my phone case because people were always telling me to ‘Get a life!’ and I could say ‘I have a spare!’ Well, now I really do have a spare life. And with luck and another 1,435 B-Points, I’ll give you a chance at a new life too, Binghe. A better one than in PIDW!

Binghe settled down in a chair, and tilted his head back slightly, relaxing in boneless happiness as he was pampered. Shen Yuan ran his hands through Binghe’s hair, untangling some of the larger knots by hand before he got to work with the comb and hair oil.

“It’s a rare and powerful mushroom – green with white spots, so I got the sculptor to use spotted jade – and it has eyes because it has a basic sort of consciousness and can bounce away from those trying to harm or eat it. It’s from a long tale about a brave but humble man, a simple sanitation worker who maintained the sewers of a large city. He and his brother were the only ones willing to strive to save a kidnapped princess from a terrible horned turtle monster with fiery breath, and they faced many fierce creatures and carnivorous plants along the way to rescue her.”

“And what is the moral of the tale, Shizun? What does the mushroom do?”

Shen Qingqiu thought about it, slowly combing out the ends of Binghe’s long wavy locks. “The moral – if the story has one beyond pure entertainment – is to never give up. No matter how many times he was beaten down, no matter how fierce the battle, he and his brother always got back up again. The mushroom symbolises that, it was a special mushroom that would grant the eater an extra life; it would revive the one consuming it from a near-death state. I wanted to remind Binghe to always keep fighting in the face of hardship, to remember that life is a gift and tomorrow is a new day, with a new chance for success and a brighter future.”

“But the mushroom is just a story, right? It sounds a lot like the lingzi mushroom of immortality, but the appearance is all wrong,” Binghe checked, twisting around in the chair to face him, heedless of the tugging on his hair that resulted. “It’s not something I could find that would help you with Without a Cure, is it?”

“Yes, it’s just a…” Shen Yuan paused. There was in fact a mushroom in Proud Immortal Demon Way that would grant you an extra life, though not by eating it. “Mn. Just a story, as far as this one knows, and I know a lot about the flora and fauna of this world. Though you never know what strange things there are in existence, Binghe. If you ever see one – story though it is – you should certainly collect it.”

Airplane was a terrible plagiarist. It’s not impossible it might show up.

Binghe promised earnestly to collect it if he ever saw it, and settled back down to have camellia oil massaged into his scalp and hair.

Leaving aside the possible canonical existence of 1-Up mushrooms, there is a PIDW mushroom I should discuss with Shang Qinghua later. Just in case. Even if I manage to avoid the Endless Abyss arc, there’s still the risk that Without a Cure may take me out at some point. One day that clogging of qi and dull ache of pain may intensify to a fatal level.

Under his gentle scalp massage, Binghe was practically purring, making soft little contented noises.

“Hmm! Mmm…”

Shen Yuan smiled happily. Sweet boy!

[+1 protagonist satisfaction point.]

You’re so stingy lately, System! It used to give more points for hair brushing.

“You know, Binghe, I used to have a mushroom ornament of my own a lot like this one, but I lost it years ago. I had someone skilled at working with jade carve this specially for you. I hope you don’t think it looks too silly. I know a mushroom isn’t fierce like a tiger or powerful like a dragon. Still, I hope it brings you luck and reminds you to keep pushing on even when there are endless enemies and obstacles between you and your goal of a bright and happy future.”

“This one will treasure it always, Shizun,” Binghe swore. “I too lost a precious jade amulet many years ago, so this disciple understands how Shizun must feel.”

“Oh!” Shen Qingqiu gave a guilty jerk.

How could I have forgotten?! I guess I haven’t thought about it in literal years. He had a tiny moment of empathy for Shang Qinghua forgetting so much about his own world, before brushing the thought off like a pest.

“Ah… was it a jade Guanyin amulet, perhaps? This master found such a thing tangled in the branches of some bamboo a long time ago.”

I can’t in good conscience save it to reduce his anger points with such a prompt before me. System, could I maybe get some B-Points for filling a plot hole or developing the ‘nonsensical’ plot?

[System sees no such occasion for gifting points. However, as satisfaction points have exceeded the threshold, drop conditions for key item have been achieved. Pleas pay 50 B-Points to retrieve the key item from storage.]

Highway robbery! I found that item myself! I never asked you to store it! You never told me it would cost points to retrieve it!

[Host never asked.]

“Shizun found my jade Guanyin?!” Binghe gasped, spinning around in the chair again.

In the tangle of movement, Shen Yuan’s hands ended up cradling his face, one hand on his forehead, and the other on a cheek.

Binghe looked up at him with starry, expectant eyes, and Shen Yuan just couldn’t bear to disappoint him.

Okay, I’ll pay the points, he thought grudgingly. For Binghe’s happiness, it was worth it.

[-50 B-Points. Please prepare to receive.]

Running his fingers back into Binghe’s hair, he scrunched his fingers a little in those wavy locks to remove some more of the oil coating his hands, then gave his head a little pat.

“I believe I must have, yes. Give this master a moment to find it.”

He stepped away from Binghe who was practically quivering with anticipation, and went into his bedroom so the System could deliver the pendant directly to his hands. It only took a moment, and he was back handing it to Binghe.

“This is it,” his little white lotus gasped, receiving it with reverent hands. “I thought it was lost forever. This is the best almost-birthday I could ever wish for, Shizun. A jade ornament from each of my most precious people. This disciple could wish for nothing more.”

[+10 protagonist satisfaction points.]

Aww, bless you both!

“Not even a night off from cooking?”

“This disciple loves to cook for you, Shizun!” he said, the words bursting out like he’d been offended by the mere notion he might want a break.

“Even if the alternative is a sword flight down the mountain to eat together at a restaurant?” he teased. “You can even invite a couple of friends along. Ning Yingying perhaps, or your shixiong Zhong Jianjun who’s been giving you tips for your guqin playing? Or that pretty shijie Cai Xiulan you play weiqi with sometimes?”

“She’s not that pretty,” Binghe grumped, “and we’re not friends. She’s just a good opponent, that’s all. And Ning Yingying is visiting Xian Shu Peak this evening for her book club meeting with the girls there. Can’t we just go on our own, Shizun, right away? This one is very hungry and would love a night off from cooking!”

He caved in an instant. He couldn’t resist those big pleading eyes! Bingpup used Puppy Eyes! It was super effective!

“Come on then, let me finish doing your hair and we’ll get going.”

“Shizun could pin my hair up in a bun with a guan?” Binghe asked optimistically.

Shen Yuan flicked him on the forehead. “Binghe is not twenty yet. He is only close to seventeen. Patience.”

“Not even for my birthday? As a treat?”

He avoided eye contact this time. “Half up,” he compromised. “A bit like mine, but without the guan. We’ll use a ribbon.”

“Yes, Shizun!”

[+2 protagonist satisfaction points.]

It’d be a couple of weeks’ work to claw back the fifty point loss, but it was worth it!

Tonight, he’d celebrate an early birthday with Binghe. Tomorrow, he’d interrogate Shang Qinghua about the Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom.

-000-

A couple of weeks later, Shen Qingqiu was delighted to have finally hit the 9,000 point milestone.

It’s over 9000!

He’d obtained some rare mushrooms and earnt some bonus B-Points thanks to his windfall for unlocking a hidden character (the snake demon Zhuzhi-Lang), and had later interrogated Shang Qinghua for all the hidden lore about Binghe’s birth family he could squeeze out of him.

Even with the impressive 300 point bonus for meeting Zhuzhi-Lang, it had taken a lot of point grinding to hit nine thousand. Winter was now upon them, and the chill of the air, bare branches, and early darkening skies was a poignant reminder that long night of the Endless Abyss would be falling upon them soon, as soon as spring was underway.

With only three months left, Shen Qingqiu was busy doing increasingly frustrated (but still optimistic) maths calculations daily, nagging his System for quests (rarely granted) and hunting out acquaintances to point grind.

Three months and a bit to go, let’s say that’s 400 points a month for the first two months, and a modest 200 points in the last month and a bit just in case the System gets stingy again. So to do some maths, it’s roughly 100 points a week. That’s what, around 15 points a day? I should be able to do it if I push hard! Apart from the 300 point bonus, I earnt 184 points in the past fortnight! That was 92 a week, which is almost at my goal, but not quite. Hmm, it could be tough. I don’t always earn that much. Some days I’m barely scraping 5 a day, and get hit with occasional deductions to boot. What if I end up short?!

[Host was not interacting with the protagonist for much of the past couple of weeks.]

He calmed down a little. That’s true, I lost out on points for not praising his cooking for a week, or tutoring him. I can make it. But just in case, I’d really appreciate some more bonus points, System! Got any quests for me today? he prodded.

[Intermediate-level quest issued. Quest: A taste of the past. Please click to accept.]

How many points will I get? What does it involve? he asked, a little suspicious. Is this a Shen Jiu thing again?

[Please click to accept.]

Fine. I guess the last one wasn’t so bad, in the end. He clicked obediently. Now what, System?

[Wait.]

He didn’t have to live in frustrated anticipation for very long, as a disciple arrived with a letter inviting him to Qiong Ding Peak for an early dinner. He left a note for Binghe in the Bamboo House to not worry about cooking that night and headed off as soon as he’d finished lecturing his junior painting class about Xie Hie’s famous Six Principles of painting. Today he’d focused on the principle stressing the importance of ‘resonance of the spirit’, which was essential to maintain a relaxed and flowing style of brushwork for the Xieyi freestyle painting method which aimed to express the artist’s feelings as well as depicting a scene. Their paintings of orchids could be charitably described as ‘passable’, but at least they were trying harder by the end of the lesson to put feeling into their art, a skill which was essential for all the Four Arts except weiqi, and even there a case could be made for it helping.

Yue Qingyuan was delighted that he’d stopped by a little early, and they chatted lightly about their respective students while enjoying tea and waiting for dinner cooked by more able hands than their own.

“I have never mastered cooking even the simplest dishes,” Yue Qingyuan confessed. “Nor did you, I believe. I can char some meat on a spit over a fire to something passably edible if one is not too fussy, but that’s about it. Have you found yourself struggling in the kitchen, Shen-shidi?”

“It’s Binghe’s domain, so I leave it to him. If the fire’s already lit for me I can make a pleasant cup of tea, but nothing beyond that. Does cutting up fruit count?” he asked, with a wry smile that made his shixiong snort with amusement.

Honestly I’m lost without my microwave and rice cooker. I can cook some nice noodle dishes… if the noodles are pre-made and the sauce comes in a bottle.

“Truly, the skill of a master chef! But really, how were either of us ever to learn? You know… do you remember our background, Xiao J… Xiao Shen? Or have you been told of it by… anyone?”

“I… have some basic knowledge,” he admitted cautiously, “but not full memories, or the emotions attached to them. I know we were slaves together on the streets, before I was… taken in by the Qius, which was a miserable time for me. Then I escaped, burnt the place down, and was recruited by a wicked rogue cultivator named uh… Wu Yanzi. We killed him at a conference, and then I joined Qing Jing Peak.”

Yue Qingyuan let out a relieved breath. “That’s the basics of your history, yes. Did you… did you recall it on your own?”

Shen Qingqiu stared down at his teacup, avoiding eye contact. “I would rather not discuss that topic further, thank you.”

“That’s fine, it’s alright,” his shixiong rushed to reassure him. “This one is not surprised you would prefer it if many memories stayed lost. But we shared good times too, shidi!”

“Like what?” he asked curiously.

But Yue Qingyuan paused there, as a couple of disciples arrived with a variety of dishes in bamboo steamers and on platters, overloading the table to its maximum capacity.

“What is this feast?!” he demanded. “Unless we’re going to be joined by a half dozen extra guests, there is not a chance we’ll get through even a fraction of this! It’s going to be wasted. You’ll have to share the leftovers with your disciples, or it’s going to go off.”

Yue Qingyuan wore a wistful smile. “I hosted a similar feast for you shortly after you joined Qing Jing Peak. It’s a relatively good memory for me – hopefully you as well – and I thought we could revisit it. In case it helps.”

Shen Yuan thinned his lips, feeling guilty. “I would rather you got to know me as I am now, not try to chase a friendship with someone who’s gone.”

[-5 B-Points. Warning! Host should be careful what he reveals!]

Oh, come on! That was interpreted just how I meant it to be! His System stayed stubbornly unrepentant about taking his points.

His shixiong slumped wordlessly in his seat, and Shen Qingqiu couldn’t bear the woebegone look in his eyes. “But I am sure we can still enjoy a meal together,” he conceded.

“Thank you, Xiao Shen,” his shixiong replied softly. “You hated the idea of the waste of food back then too, you know. Don’t worry, we’ll give the leftovers away to those who need them. I just wanted to give you a feast, like I promised I would when I was rich one day, back when we were just two hungry slaves: Yue Qi and Shen Jiu. We were like brothers, back then. We pretended that a lot to get sympathy from passers-by; two lost, orphaned children looking for their family. You were always a better actor than I was.”

Overwhelmed by the quantity of food, but eager to fill his mouth and avoid a fraught conversation, Shen Qingqiu picked and chose some choice pieces from a multitude of dishes, taking just a bite or two from each.

There were so many to choose from, including steamed fish in soy sauce, pork ribs with black beans, soft-skinned boiled chicken, sweet barbeque pork, roast duck, some token vegetables for nutrition’s sake, rice of course, and a vast array of desserts including hawthorn tanghulu, egg tarts, sesame balls, sticky rice pudding with fruit, and rich mung bean cakes.

“Are you going to try the oysters?” Yue Qingyuan asked, when he was pushing aside his bowl of scraps of meat and rice in favour of loading up a new dish with samples of the desserts. “They were a favourite of yours.”

Oh. Better stay in character, then.

He begrudgingly took one – one should be enough, on such a full stomach – and tipped back the shell into his mouth, letting the gross slimy bit of meat slide into his mouth.

“Delicious,” he said, trying to give a convincing smile as he chewed on the unappetising rubbery, salty mouthful.

“I really want to leave room for dessert, though,” he dissembled. He quickly leapt to crunch on some sugary tanghulu to cleanse his palate.

The sect leader smiled placidly as he munched on his own selections and continued to watch what his shidi ate with an intent focus. It wasn’t off-putting as he was used to that sort of behaviour from Luo Binghe, who always stared keenly when he was trialling some new culinary creation. It made his young bun happy to show off new dishes and have them appreciated, and he liked the resultant protagonist satisfaction points! Win-win.

“You didn’t try the cha siu bao either,” Yue Qingyuan replied. “You used to love those. You stole a couple from a street seller once then shared the second with me like it was the greatest sacrifice a boy could make.”

Not this time. The oyster was enough.

“Well, I refuse,” Shen Yuan said stubbornly, chin jutting up high in the air. "Tastes change. I almost choked to death on a pork bun once, so I don’t like to eat them anymore.”

I actually did die, but I certainly can’t tell you that.

He took a bite of an egg tart and hummed in pleasure at the combination of its soft custardy centre and the buttery flaky pastry.

“When was that?” Yue Qingyuan asked, clearly fascinated. He selected a sesame ball to munch on while they talked.

“Some years ago,” he replied vaguely, wiping crumbs off hit mouth. “Before I joined Qing Jing Peak.”

“You also didn’t try the dried plums.”

“Did I like them before I lost my memories?” he asked warily.

“No, you hated them. Too sour for you, with a salty aftertaste.”

“Then why did you serve them?”

Yue Qingyuan hunched up his shoulders, looking embarrassed. “Some things on the table are just there because I served them last time. And… I wanted to see if you’d like the same things.”

Shen Qingqiu stared at the table. “Was this a test?”

“No! Xiao Jiu, it’s not a test, I just wanted to give you another good memory. You were so happy when we had our feast. Perhaps I was a bit curious… I’m sorry about the oysters…”

“What about the oysters?” he demanded.

“You hate oysters. You ate a spoiled one once and you were sick for three days.”

“You lied to me?!” Shen Qingqiu asked, outraged. “It was a test!”

“No, Xiao Shen! I really wanted to share a meal, and I’d planned to privately share some memories of our past in case you didn’t remember being a slave. It was only a test for just that one bit!” he replied defensively. “I only wanted to know if you’d like them without the memory of getting sick with the runs after eating one! And you didn’t, so maybe that memory is still there, buried down deep!”

“I’m leaving,” Shen Yuan said, increasingly frantic at the thought of being tested. What if he failed? What if he lost hundreds of points?

He pettily snatched up a couple of baskets off the table, jamming the woven lids on roughly. “And I’m taking dessert with me!”

“You did that last time too, Xiao Jiu,” Yue Qingyuan said, looking teary. “It was a lovely dinner, but it ended badly when I wouldn’t talk about why I never came back for you.”

“Fuck you, I’m Shen Qingqiu now,” he spat angrily, as he spun around. Drawing his sword, he hopped on Xiu Ya, his arms laden with baskets of sweets.

Yue Qingyuan just smiled brightly through his messy tears at the insult and watched him fly off without a word.

[-5 B-Points. Warning! Host should be careful what he reveals!]

Fuck you too! He’s too busy pining over his precious Xiao Jiu to care about me!

As he zoomed through the sky stubbornly clutching the desserts to his chest. His heart still pounding fast, he checked in with his System.

No more point gains or losses?

[As rapid gains and deductions almost balanced out, this System decided not to make any announcements until the end of the meal. Also, Host was rude.]

Where’s my points for mission completion? he demanded.

[Quest is incomplete.]

Fuck your mother!

[This System will not deduct points on this occasion. This System doesn’t have a mother and thus cannot be offended in such a way.]

-000-

The very next morning, Yue Qingyuan stopped by to apologise for the previous day’s incident, offering his lukewarm apology – did he even mean it? – along with polite pleasantries and harmless chatter over tea that for some reason left him still stubbornly seething. He said farewell to the smiling sect leader through clenched teeth, still bewildered by his own anger.

Get over it, he told himself sternly. Of course he would try to bring back his sworn-brother’s memories. That’s both natural and reasonable.

If only he would listen to himself! It wasn’t working, and he didn’t understand why he was still so cranky.

I’m probably just tired.

That afternoon, Binghe stumbled again and again while practising his sword moves, crashing into Shen Qingqiu’s chest for the fifth time, even with his guiding hands helping direct his favourite disciple’s arm movements. It was getting a little tiring today, and the measly trickle of protagonist satisfaction points didn’t feel worth it right now. He’d slept poorly; a restless night plagued by nightmares he couldn’t recall on waking. He’d also woken early, startled awake by the sounds of Binghe bustling around and getting breakfast ready.

“A-Luo!” Ning Yingying’s voice call echoed across the mountain, as she approached the little clearing amongst the bamboo, a relatively private space that they used for sparring practice. He also occasionally took inner disciple painting students there for outdoor classes, as it was a quiet retreat with minimal distractions unless you counted the susurrus of wind through the bamboo leaves which he found a pleasant white noise.

“This master really should go,” he said, with a sigh, sheathing his sword. “Binghe should join his shijie.”

Binghe reached out to grab his wrist. “Don’t go, Shizun. Won’t you stay with me?” Binghe asked, and there was something dark about his eyes, staring into his. His low, quiet voice sounded almost threatening, the deep tones of a mature man. When did his voice get so deep? “We aren’t finished yet, and you know how I enjoy our time together.”

Ning Yingying bounded towards them through the narrow winding path between the thickets of bamboo. “A-Luo! Have you finished training yet? Come and play with me A-Luo!” her girlish voice called.

Binghe frowned and tutted in disapproval at the approaching interruption to their time together, and his hand unconsciously clutched tighter for a moment, squeezing his Shizun’s wrist a little too hard.

“Don’t touch me!” Shen Qingqiu snarled, jerking his wrist away from his student’s outstretched hand. “And don’t look at me like that!”

Luo Binghe froze in place, stunned, with a look of fear on his precious face that Shen Qingqiu had never seen before. Hadn’t he? He couldn’t remember why it looked a little familiar. His fearful expression had seemed oddly comforting, for a fraction of a moment. Unthreatening. Better than it had before, all dark and demanding.

“I… I’m sorry, I don’t know what… I’m sorry,” Shen Qingqiu stammered in apology.

What is wrong with me?!

“Look at you like what, Shizun?” Binghe asked nervously, twisting his hands in the loose fabric of his uniform, hands down at his sides. “Did this one hurt your wrist? This disciple is very sorry!”

“I… I don’t know. I just didn’t like it how you looked for a minute, I don’t… Binghe wasn’t looking at me any differently than usual,” Shen Yuan replied. “It was fine. My wrist is fine, Binghe did nothing wrong, I promise.” He found his own response bewildering. What had come over him?!

[+5 B-Points for in-character actions! Quest: A taste of the past has progressed!]

“This master is going to go and visit Shang Qinghua,” he said abruptly.

If anyone could help, it was him. If he couldn’t, well… there really was nothing to be done! It’s not like he could go to Mu Qingfang and say, ‘My disciple looked at me and I snapped at him. Fix it!’ It felt like… it felt like he was the Original Goods for a moment there. It was something Shen Jiu might have said, if the beast had dared to grab at him.

“Is there anything this disciple can do to help you, Shizun?” Binghe asked anxiously. “This one wishes to assist, and did not mean to anger Shizun in any way! I… your disciple is sorry for grabbing your arm without permission!”

“It’s alright, Binghe,” he replied, reaching out cautiously to pat Binghe’s fluffy hair. Slowly, gingerly, wary of triggering negative impulses that shouldn’t exist. Binghe remained carefully still while he did so, his eyes flicking away as if wary of making eye contact right now. “Like I said, Binghe did nothing wrong.”

“But something went wrong. Please, Shizun, tell me what I can do differently to not make you… to not remind you of anything bad!”

Binghe waved frantically at Ning Yingying, trying to shoo her away. She didn’t leave, but she did halt her approach, watching them uncertainly from a short distance away at the edge of the small clearing.

Had there been a trigger? Shen Yuan wondered. Maybe.

“Perhaps,” he started hesitantly, “if Binghe doesn’t mind… he could ask Ning Yingying not to call him A-Luo in public? Maybe try a different term, if you must use affectionate names for each other.”

The nickname gave him a shuddering feeling of visceral repulsion. He hated it.

“Of course, Shizun! This one will speak to her about it right away! Does… does Shizun understand why it upset him?” There was a little bashful, oddly shy look on the protagonist’s sweet face now. “And is there anything else this one can do to make Shizun happy?”

“Yes… no. Not really,” he admitted honestly. “But I think… I think there’s a bad memory attached to it. To that name. And if you wanted to be sure to avoid… triggering anything in the future, perhaps you could both avoid using it?”

He got a low bow in return. “This one will remember and obey, Shizun! I will tell Ning Yingying about your order, too!”

“Good, good,” he said vaguely, drawing his sword and setting it to hover in the air as he hopped aboard. “This master will be visiting your shishu now but will be back in time for dinner. Noodles, please.”

Watching his disciples discreetly as he flew off, he saw Ning Yingying wander up to Binghe and rest a comforting hand on his shoulder as he hunched over in clear distress.

She’ll comfort him better than I could. It will be best if I stay away for now, while I figure this out.

-000-

Shang Qinghua took only seconds to sus out the immediate cause of his minor freak out, when he showed up for an emergency debrief.

“Oh, right! The ‘A-Luo’ thing! Yeah, Shen Qingqiu hated that nickname. It reminded him of Qiu Jianluo. Like, his sister Qiu Haitang called him ‘A-Luo’ a lot, so it brings back all these PTSD kind of memories about that bastard son of a turtle who caused Shen Jiu all the grief in the world. Throw in some unwanted touching and yeah, that’ll set off another trigger for a snowball of badness. Did my protagonist son say anything else in particular that worsened things?”

He picked up a pile of paperwork off a chair and placed it atop a teetering pile of paperwork on a desk, so Shen Qingqiu had somewhere to sit down.

Shen Qingqiu couldn’t remember precisely what Luo Binghe had said. “Nothing that stood out. Something about how he wanted me to stay with him and keep training and not leave.”

“Hmm. I don’t remember anything relevant from my original draft. It’s so long ago! But maybe there was a bit of a match for some old dialogue in a flashback scene that got deleted. Qiu Jianluo got jealous whenever his plaything left him to run off to shelter with his sister.”

“Don’t call me… don’t call him that. Oh my god, is he coming back? Is Shen Jiu taking me over?!” His breathing was coming fast now, shallow and rapid.

Shang Qinghua watched him with sympathetic, worried eyes. “It’s okay bro, it’ll be okay, just breathe, Cucumber-bro. It’s just you in there, I promise. No-one but you.”

“Just me?” he pleaded, his head in his hands.

“Just you, I promise. We checked, bro. The peak lords. We had a secret meeting, years ago. You don’t even know how many… Yue Qingyuan had Mu Qingfang run every single test for possession and mind control we could scrounge up from our collective knowledge, just in case. I only heard about most of them after the fact. It wasn’t just you trying to draw Hong Jing, which they had you try three times, as you might recall. There were talismans and artefacts involved too. There’s only one soul, one mind, and it’s yours, I swear it, bro. Alright, your memory’s a bit dodgy, but it’s just you. Breathe. You like music, right? Maybe sing a little modern song to yourself, something to help you calm down and feel more like you.”

He took a series of long, slow breaths until he started feeling calmer, and hummed wordlessly under his breath as he ran through the lyrics of ‘Thunderstruck’ in his mind, his latest practice piece just for fun.

     Sound of the drums
     Beating in my heart
     The thunder of guns
     Tore me apart!
     You've been…
     Thunderstruck!

“Better?”

“A little,” he said, focusing on keeping a calm headspace and settled qi, almost like basic meditation. “So, if it’s not Shen Jiu’s soul rattling around in my head, what is going on?”

Shang Qinghua looked shifty, and Shen Qingqiu reached for his fan threateningly. “Talk, Airplane!”

“Okay, okay! So… look, there’s just the one soul, right?”

“Right.”

“You remember how I got my memories as a baby?”

“Yes, you transmigrated super early.”

“Reincarnated,” Qinghua corrected. “When someone dies, and their soul moves to be reborn as a baby, they’re reincarnated.”

“So, what, you think you are Shang Qinghua?”

He shrugged. “I guess. I don’t think I displaced him. I think I just… woke up when I was a few months old. I dunno, I guess I skipped the bit where you drink Meng Po’s soup and forget your last life. It’s a theory. I don’t know if it’s right, because this isn’t like some random new life, it’s the world I wrote. Or at least I think I did. Maybe I just saw visions of it and wrote them down. Maybe it’s all timey-wimey and tangled up. What if my next life is in modern China, and right now I just think I know about it, but it's just a vision of a future that hasn’t even happened yet? Maybe I have lots of visions?”

“That doesn't even make sense,” Shen Qingqiu said, thoroughly bewildered. “How do I even fit into that?”

“You don’t! So, it was just a theory. One I kind of scrapped when you showed up, Cucumber. So, my current best idea – though I don’t think you’re gonna like it – is that we both reincarnated. Either that or I’m a god.”

“A god.”

“A descended immortal who mucks around creating worlds and messes up his own mind for immersion’s sake.”

“You’re not a god.”

“Prove it.”

He blinked. Where would one even start? “Why would you pick to be the pathetic little browbeaten rodent of a man you are in either life if you were a god? Your suffering isn’t even interesting.”

His shidi slumped a bit in his chair. “Yeah, okay. So ow, but that’s a good point. So that leaves us with reincarnation.”

“…Or transmigration,” Shen Qingqiu insisted. “I’m not Shen Jiu. I’m not like you; I didn’t grow up from a baby knowing who I am. I just popped in one day. One day choking to death on a bao, the next blinking up at Yue Qingyuan after a qi deviation. Shen Jiu’s soul left, mine popped in.”

Shang Qinghua’s mouth screwed up tightly. “Yeah, so you see, that should have made Hong Jing react, is the thing. Which is didn’t. And if Shen Jiu had really died, Xiu Ya should have shattered; spiritual swords are drama queens like that, and almost impossible to break apart from spontaneous destruction on the wielder’s death. Remember how in my book that’s why everyone instantly believed my son was dead not just lost, because Zheng Yang was broken? You’re not possessing your body; you own it.”

“The System did it, putting me in here! So, it doesn’t count! Maybe I’m just not a resentful spirit, did you think of that?!”

“Shhh! Look bro, I know you don’t want to be Shen Jiu but–”

“If I was, I would have said something as a child. Yue Qi… Qingyuan would have known. Fuck. I would’ve said something to him, right?” He didn’t give Qinghua a chance to reply before continuing. “And! And I would have known I was in Proud Immortal Demon Way. I wouldn’t have just hung around being a slave or let myself be abused. I would have been off cultivating.”

“You might not have remembered your past life when you were a child. By the way, early cultivation is kind of what Shen Jiu did the moment he could? At least, that’s how I wrote him in my draft. He was cultivating even when he was a child. He did that trick sharpening stuff with his qi when he was just a little kid. Also, he could do sword seals at fifteen before he ever studied with Wu Yanzi or reached Cang Qiong, and no-one ever taught him that. He stabbed the shit out of Qiu Jianluo.”

“I’m not listening to this.”

“Look, bro, it’s just a little memory leakage, that’s all,” Qinghua said, trying to sound soothing but instead sounding like an irritating little bitch. “You know Mu Qingfang studied the heck out of your qi. There’s no big cache of buried memories in there, no secondary soul, no extra mind trying to break free. He said it’s like your big qi deviation hollowed you out, leaving only bits and pieces behind.”

“Fuck that guy! Fuck you both!”

“Don’t take it out on me you black powder bitch!” Qinghua shouted. “Unless you want to suddenly proclaim me god I didn’t do this! I’m trying to help you! I’m telling you there’s only fragments of Shen Jiu’s memories left so your System dragged your past life to the fore to take over so you wouldn’t drop into a coma or die!”

“System,” he said softly and venomously.

System. HEY LISTEN! System, are you there? Is it true? What he’s saying?

[…System wishes you the best in changing the nonsensical plot and transforming a stupid work into a magnificent, high-quality, first-rate classic!]

“Mine never says anything useful. I don’t even know what the System is,” Qinghua offered, while Shen Qingqiu spaced out. “My best bet is that it’s a servant of King Yan that likes to kinda cosplay as a System. You know, because us modern types understand that better than a demon from the afterlife messing with us for shits and giggles.”

“System, am I Shen Jiu?” he asked out loud, teeth gritted.

[Bound Role: Cang Qiong Mountain Sect’s Peak Lord of Qing Jing Peak, ‘Shen Qingqiu’. While no points will be deducted for deviations, it is not recommended to act in violation of the original Shen Qingqiu character.]

“It’s just repeating stuff it’s said before,” he echoed out loud for Airplane’s benefit. “How I am bound to the role of Shen Qingqiu and should act like that.”

“What happened to Shen Jiu’s soul?” he asked the System, staring up at the ceiling like that would help. It at least let him avoid looking at Shang Qinghua. “Did he… he died right? His soul is gone?”

[User is the only soul in possession of Shen Qingqiu’s body!]

“Well, it says I’m the only soul here. That’s something, at least.”

“Look, you want my advice?”

“No.”

Yes.

“Well, you’re getting it anyway; that’s what you came here for. My advice is to try not to think about it too much. I second guess myself all the time. Did I write the world? If I did, how are there hundreds of thousands of people wandering around that I certainly didn’t write? Maybe millions? With names and fleshed-out histories and family trees they can trace back for generations? Bro, my writing was never that thorough. I only liked world-building Cang Qiong, the monsters, and the fun plants, not boring history and a million NPCs.”

“You even got some of the wives mixed up.”

“Exactly! So how can I go to an An Ding trade meeting and talk to a balding wine-seller with a limp, a widowed mother, and a hobby of whittling animals out of wood? He’s an unimportant NPC who shouldn’t even have a name, let alone a family history and a hobby.”

“You’re not that thorough a writer,” Shen Qingqiu summarised. “So, someone or something much more genuinely godlike is filling in the details. Maybe using your shitty porn as a template for their world creation, at most.”

Shang Qinghua nodded vigorously. “So, if I created anything – which most days I think I didn’t – it was only a handful of people. And maybe some wives. I don’t honestly even know if any of them exist apart from four or five, like the disciples here. It’s not like I checked if they all exist here.”

Shen Qingqiu sighed. “But… do you ever feel like your original goods? Like you’re not yourself?” he asked plaintively. “Does anything about this bother you at all?”

Airplane hesitated. “I… I’ve forgotten my original name. You know, from back home. It doesn’t bother me most days! I’m just Shang Qinghua. I freaked out about it decades ago; I worked through that trauma early. Literally shitting myself as a baby and waiting around for my next breastfeed gave me plenty of spare time for existential angst.”

“But do you like, want to betray the sect? Do you feel like there’s another personality influencing you?”

He shrugged. “My System insists on it, and I like to avoid those Punishment Protocols. I learnt the limits of my leash decades ago. But I know what you mean and the answer, sorry to say, is a vague ‘maybe’. It just… it doesn’t bother me to think about the disciples who died at Mobei-Jun’s hands. Or the ones who might die in the future at the Immortal Alliance Conference. Fuck Huan Hua! I wrote it full of entitled noble born arseholes and bullying little shits. I’ll minimise deaths where I can – and I am trying – but that’s about it.

“I can’t tell you if I don’t care much because I’m a cold son-of-a-bitch who knows this world is kinda fake under the pretty surface, or because the original Shang Qinghua didn’t give a shit about all the bitches who treated him like dogshit and sneered down their noses at him while piling all their work on him then blaming him whenever anything went wrong.” The last part came out in an increasingly resentful speedy babble.

“…I’ll try to give you less work,” Shen Qingqiu said, guiltily. “And appreciate you more.”

“Thanks bro! I’m still waiting on that budget report explaining exactly why you need us to cover you for more painting supplies, by the way.”

Oops! Ming Fan should be handling that! Have I not reviewed something I should have?!

“I’ll get it to you. But Airplane-bro, is that it? Just… try not to think about it? Is that all you’ve got for me? ‘Maybe your soul isn’t your own, try not to worry?’”

“What can I tell you? I really honestly just try not to think about the metaphysics of it too often. For what it’s worth, I don’t think there’s any chance of you turning into Shen Jiu and suddenly abusing your blorbo again. Even if a full half of your memories came back – which they won’t because they’re almost all gone – Shen Jiu is too smart to abuse him like that knowing the dire future ahead of you for doing that. Your memories and soul are 99% modern Shen Yuan, bro. Look at me! Stable for decades. You’re gonna be fine.”

Hmph. Fat lot of good he is! He took a deep, calming breath, and sang inside his mind again.

     My mind raced
     And I thought, what could I do? (Thunder)
     And I knew
     There was no help, no help from you! (Thunder)

[+50 B-Points! Quest: A taste of the past is complete!]

Yay, he thought sarcastically. That was so much fun.

“So what now?” he said, slumping in his chair. “I refuse to think that I’m Shen Jiu, with actual amnesia. But if I am… Well, even if I’m not, I’m kind of him right now, aren’t I? I’m welded to this role. This body, this name.”

“I guess.”

“So, should I do anything about that? He was such a shitty monster in the past. Am I a terrible person, Airplane? If I’m him, I kinda hate myself for that. I wanted him castrated, remember?”

“I think he hated himself too, at times,” Qinghua mused, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers behind his head. “He was cruel, sure, but he didn’t do half the things he was accused of, like sleeping with prostitutes or abusing Ning Yingying. Or killing Liu Qingge – good work changing that, by the way.”

“Thanks. But still, Shen Jiu was a child-abusing fuck to Binghe.”

“Your poor blorbo, I know he was always your fave! And bro, you forgave Bingge all kinds of cruelty on the grounds that he’d suffered so much. If you could love and accept Bingge despite all his cruelty, can’t you forgive and accept yourself?”

“That sounded almost profound,” Shen Qingqiu said, with a wry, twisted smile.

“Well, I am an immortal master. And probably old enough to be your grandpa! I have my moments, bro.”

He snorted at that but thought on his words all the same. Does suffering justify cruelty? Can I judge Shen Jiu for burning down Qiu manor when I cheered on Binghe for burning down Qing Jing Peak? I don’t even want Binghe to be like that now. Have I changed enough? So that he’ll spare the peak?

“I want Binghe to be better than in the story. And if I’m Shen Jiu – or acting as such for the rest of my weird reincarnated or transmigrated life – I want me to be better than that too.”

“So be better,” Shang Qinghua said, like it was simple. Maybe it was. “Change things. Apologise. Make amends. Act like you would want Shen Qingqiu to act in your very own spin-off fix-it story.”

“Is that what you do?”

“Nah. I just said a few prayers for the dead and used my author knowledge of rare stuff and major events to make Cang Qiong Mountain Sect a shit-ton of money harvesting all those once-in-a-millennium plants plus nabbing stuff from secret realms. What? Don’t judge me, bro! I see that sneer! You don’t get to judge when you reap the rewards of a dozen new guzhengs paid for with my filthy, filthy money!”

“You’re despicable.”

“What I said is all still good advice,” he retorted. “I went to therapy for like a year after my parents divorced, before the guilt money funding it all ran out. I learnt some things. If you’re all riddled with guilt or anger you gotta learn how to forgive and forget, or if you can’t you at least put it behind you and move on with your best life.

“Who you are, what you’re doing with your life… even with the System breathing down our necks about major events… the rest isn’t all set in stone, bro. If you think things suck, change them. Be the Shen Qingqiu you want to see in a much better Proud Immortal Demon Way!”

“You’re damn right I will. I’m gonna fix this trashfire if it’s the last thing I do!”

Chapter Text

Shen Qingqiu repeated to himself some advice about proper apologies that Shang Qinghua had given him, with all the credit ultimately resting with his shidi’s therapist in his past life.

‘Stay calm. Acknowledge your error. Take responsibility without making excuses. Express regret. Show how you will change in the future. Actively listen to the other person talk about how they feel. Let go of the outcome.’

He’d decided to talk to Binghe over breakfast, otherwise he’d be worrying over it all day. He deserved an apology from Shen Jiu over how he’d been treated in the past. Since he was Shen Jiu – even if only acting as him, having taken over his life – shouldn’t he give that apology? Staying quiet and saying nothing to your victim was a shitty way to plaster over past abuse.

As soon as he rose for the day, Binghe heard him and was up and about, stumbling to the kitchen in his hastily donned disciple’s robes, cooking up some congee for their breakfast.

Sweet little sheep! He ruffled the sleep-mussed fluffy hair on his way past, earning a tired but pleased smile and one B-Point. A happy protagonist was a point-farming opportunity! He had plans to step up his acquisition of points from the System for in-character behaviour too. Nothing bad. Just little things.

With congee and tea on the table, he waved Luo Binghe to sit opposite him.

“Wait for a moment before starting eating breakfast, please, as this master has some things he wishes to say to you, Luo Binghe,” he said formally, waving his fan slowly for the comfort of hiding his face, since a cool breeze was entirely unnecessary in winter.

“Yes, Shizun,” Binghe said, straight-backed and looking a little nervous, to his observant eye.

“Binghe, I am… I was… a broken man. This master had a difficult childhood, I was never the pampered young master some people claim. And people who’ve been hurt, who’ve suffered too much hardship in their lives, sometimes they go on to hurt others, Binghe. Just like they were hurt in their youth. Through bitterness, or not knowing any better, through being shaped by terrible conditions, they can become cruel in their actions. It’s a cycle of abuse.”

A cycle Binghe himself had fallen prey to, in Proud Immortal Demon Way.

“Shizun…” Binghe said, trailing off and looking a bit sad as he bit his lip.

“I don’t mean that as an excuse, Binghe!” he rushed to add. “I shouldn’t have hurt you. I should never have dumped tea on your head, or whipped you, or given you a faulty cultivation manual. That was wrong of me, and I apologize; I regret it deeply now. All of it. I shouldn’t have done such things, and Binghe never deserved such treatment.”

“This disciple,” Binghe said, choking up as tears welled in his eyes, “very much appreciates that, Shizun. This one knows Shizun has changed, and to be valued now by Shizun is everything. I… this disciple knows it must be hard to have suffered a qi deviation that meant you lost so much of who you were, but… I am sorry, Shizun! I can only be glad for the change that stole your memories, no matter how devastating it must have been for Shizun!”

He was bawling now, sobbing his heart out. Shen Qingqiu moved around to his side of the table and pulled him to his chest for a hug. Binghe cried into his shoulder and clenched his hands in the back of Shen Qingqiu’s robes with fierce desperation, scrunching the fragile outer layer of silk terribly, no doubt.

“I’m so glad, Shizun! Forgive me!” he sobbed, all muffled since his face was buried in his Shizun’s robes.

“Binghe, hush, it’s alright. Those lost memories of this master’s past, the ones that pained me, I don’t miss them. They are either gone now, or just the shadowy outlines of what used to be there. They don’t hold the pain they once did. I’m just glad I have all the skills I need to thrive as peak lord! So, this master isn’t going to be like that again… like I was once. Those times are gone. This master… I… I will do better in the future. I like to think I’ve been doing better by you, and all the rest of my students too.”

“Shizun is the best peak lord!” Binghe vowed tearily.

‘Show how you will change in the future’, Shen Qingqiu quoted to himself, before giving Binghe a final squashy hug – he was so big now! – then pulling away.

Binghe sniffled and wiped away his tears, smiling at him with devoted eyes.

Ah, he really is so happy that I apologised. I knew this was a good idea!

“As a formal show of how things have changed, I thought we could have another go at a tea ceremony, for me to officially accept you as a cherished and welcome disciple of Qing Jing Peak. A fresh memory for both of us, without the taint of the previous disastrous ceremony.”

Binghe gasped out loud, and pushing hastily to his feet, he clasped his hands together, palm over fist, to do a low formal bow.

“Shizun! This one would be honoured!”

He bustled away instantly to make tea. Like there wasn’t already some on the table! But it seemed only the best tea would do for a special occasion.

“If you want,” Shen Qingqiu called out, while his student was in the kitchen, “I could make sure there is a place for Binghe in the dorms with the other disciples? Not that I don’t want you here in my Bamboo House, I just want you to know you’re fully accepted and have a proper place here at Qing Jing Peak.”

“No, Shizun! This one would prefer to stay with you!” Binghe called back, sounding a little anxious. “Who would cook your meals, or clean, and fill your bath for you if I left, Shizun?”

“Then Binghe can stay.”

In short order Binghe was back with a formal tea tray, kneeling in front of him and carefully pouring out tea into delicate porcelain with hands that trembled ever so slightly.

He picked up his teacup and sniffed the steam; it was his favourite blend – longjing tea – an expensive pan-roasted green tea he usually reserved as a treat to drink while relaxing with a book in the evenings. He took a small sip; a little hot, but sweet and mellow with notes of roasted chestnut.

“Perfectly brewed, Luo Binghe,” he said approvingly, setting the cup down. “I, Peak Lord Shen of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, welcome you as my newest disciple of Qing Jing Peak. Study well, train hard, and meditate often! As your Shizun, I look forward to seeing how your skills and talents bloom here under my guidance. You are a young man with excellent potential, and I know you will flourish here before moving on to a grand future.”

“Shizun!!” Binghe said, kowtowing low. “This lowly one promises to work hard and is honoured to have been accepted as your disciple and wishes nothing more than to stay here with you forever and make you and my mother’s memory proud!”

Aw, that was lovely. What do you think, System? Worth a few B-Points for such a touching scene that made him happy and raised this villainous Shen Qingqiu’s IQ while filling in a plot hole, all in one?

[+5 B-Points.] Curtly, it grudgingly coughed up a small reward that was still enough to take him a third of the way to his daily points goal in one hit.

-000-

Shen Qingqiu stopped by Qiong Ding Peak, hoping to have a nice meeting with Yue Qingyuan without tears, for a bit of a change. He gave it fifty-fifty odds.

The sect leader dropped whatever it was he had been doing when he heard his shidi had arrived for tea and ushered him into his quarters with a blinding smile.

After the usual pleasantries had been exchanged, Shen Qingqiu got down to business. “I was hoping there might be a mission that would suit a senior inner disciple or two for a trip away from the peak for a couple of days, but preferably not longer than that.”

Yue Qingyuan hummed thoughtfully. “There’s always something, our sect is always plagued with requests. A quarter of the time we have to pass missions on to other sects. Let me see, this might do.”

He passed over a letter, which Shen Qingqiu skimmed. A report of eerie singing at night in a coastal town, and men going missing. A good mission for Binghe, who would never lose and could make himself into the siren’s bait.

Though maybe I should also send a couple of female disciples since they should be immune to its melodic lure. The protagonist might enjoy the company of some cute shijies, too!

“Excellent, Qing Jing Peak will take care of this for you,” he promised.

“But not you personally?” his shixiong double-checked.

“Ah, no. I was actually hoping to have leave for a day or so.”

An awkward smile crossed Yue Qingyuan’s face. “Visiting the Warm Red Pavilion?”

“And some time off for shopping. If it’s not too much trouble to the sect,” he said, face aflame. He might not be doing anything lecherous, but it was still embarrassing to go to a brothel! He needed those sweet in-character bonus points and had some more commissioned merch and some art supplies to collect.

“Of course. I will supply shidi with some extra funds before you leave.”

“That would be most welcome,” he said, surprised and pleased.

“Did Xiao Shen find it… useful, visiting last time?” Yue Qingyuan asked, staring at him intently.

He shook his head, then nodded thoughtfully. “Yes and no. It didn’t awaken any memories… oh, well actually I learnt – remembered – two new classical songs for the guzheng, but nothing much apart from that.”

“You remembered some songs? That’s wonderful, Xiao Shen!” Yue Qingyuan seemed happy despite the relative insignificance of the memories, smiling brightly.

“It’s not much. Still, I got a better sense of who I am as a person and enjoyed spending time with my jiejies.”

“Your… jiejies.”

He nodded. “Just so you know, shixiong, my past reputation for lechery isn’t a deserved one. I had an enjoyable and platonic evening with the ladies there, just playing music and literally sleeping.”

Yue Qingyuan’s eyes were wide, his teacup frozen in the air, lifted halfway to his lips that were now parted in shock.

“I think…” he continued, “I think in the past I let you assume things that weren’t true, feeling that you didn’t deserve the truth, a petty repayment for how you thought the worst of me too many times. But with so many of my memories permanently burnt away – Mu-shidi reconfirmed it for me recently – I am in essentials a new Shen Qingqiu. Or Xiao Shen, if you prefer. And I wish to be treated as my own person and not held too tightly to expectations of how I should behave. I teach differently now, and I also wish to be on better terms with my sect siblings. Part of that is not being misunderstood, especially when it could be ruinous to my reputation. I am happy to learn who I was, but it will not substantially change who I am. Gege.”

His shixiong’s teacup was replaced on the table with a hurried clatter and a slosh of tea. “Xiao Shen!” he said, grabbing and clasping his hands fervently.

It didn’t bother him to be grabbed, not like when Binghe had done it, and he wondered what the difference was. He guessed the lack of a trigger like ‘A-Luo’ was the key difference. It was odd, worrying about having unexploded mines in one’s mind that might go off at odd moments.

“Your gege promises to support you always!” he said, with bright eyes thankfully free from tears for a change. “You can be who you want to be, and this gege of yours promises to not make you uncomfortable in the future. And I sincerely thank you for sharing that truth with me. I will try and be more open with you about… about the secrets of my past too…”

Uh oh! Teary gege alert! I see that glimmering, shixiong! And you were doing so well, too!

“No crying!” he ordered sternly. “Today is a happy meeting only.”

Yue Qingyuan laughed, and seemed relieved. “Of course, Xiao Shen. Another time, then. When were you planning to head off the mountain, shidi?”

“Tomorrow around midday, after the Peak Lord meeting.”

Any points today, System? he prodded. It was getting more and more reluctant to award him points as that ten-thousand-point goal was in sight, and the Immortal Alliance Conference was drawing ever closer, but it sometimes co-operated better with a bit of prompting. He was still meeting his calculated required daily point gain, and that was what mattered most.

[+2 B-Points for changes to the nonsensical plot.]

Thank you, System!

[Host is welcome! ദ്ദി ( ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ )]

-000-

After the Peak Lord meeting, Shen Qingqiu stayed a little longer to drop off some paperwork for Shang Qinghua, who was grateful for the early delivery, and even more grateful to be gifted a basket of dumplings.

“Binghe cooked them before he left for his mission this morning with the girls,” he explained, passing over the bamboo basket, “so you know they’re the best. He thinks they’re for me to eat over the next day, but as I won’t be around to eat them I thought you might appreciate them more. Be sure to drop the basket back at my house so he doesn’t know I shared his snacks, okay? He gets all sniffly and offended when I do that.”

“Bro! You’re the best!” Qinghua exclaimed, starry-eyed. He stuffed a prawn dumpling in his mouth as he left laden with paperwork and snacks, and moaned happily at the burst of flavour.

Qi Qingqi came up to him, with Liu Mingyan trailing behind her. His own escort Ming Fan, he noticed, eyed them curiously too; the ladies weren’t usually interested in socialising with either of them. “Shen-shixiong, I was wondering if you’d like to join me for tea and a chat about poetry this afternoon.”

Bad timing, what a shame.

“Unfortunately not,” he said, “I have business elsewhere.”

“Oh? A mission?”

He waved a hand vaguely as he replied, “Personal business. Shopping for books, and just a bit of time away. A new restaurant to visit, you know how it is.”

“Hmm,” she said, with narrowed eyes.

Did I offend her? Sorry, shimei!

“I would love to join you for tea and poetry on my return, however,” he offered politely. “It would be nice to catch up soon.”

“Well then, I shall look forward to that occasion.”

“Come, Ming Fan,” he said. “We have some lesson plans to go over, for you will be in charge while I am absent.”

“Yes, Shizun!” he said happily.

He was such a good little sheep now he’d been directed away from his bullying ways.

-000-

The ladies at the Warm Red Pavilion were delighted to see him again, flittering around him when he arrived late that afternoon like butterflies around the sweetest of flowers.

It was a quiet time of day for their business; too late for the lunchtime crowd looking for a meal and conversation with a beautiful companion, and too early to light the red lanterns to attract the evening crowd who mostly desired more intimate companionship.

There was a little sniping between the girls as to who would get to go upstairs with him, until Madam Zhao clapped her hands sharply to make her pronouncement on the matter when Shen Qingqiu warily abstained from expressing a preference.

“Three girls will suffice,” she proclaimed. “Hou Mingzhu, you didn’t get to spend time with A-Jiu last time, and you should be resting your ankle in any case. Xiang Qiaolian, you did a fine job with musical entertainment last time, you may rejoin him. Kong Xiaolian, another easy night for you, cherish this and work to get to know A-Jiu as he’s a repeat customer to cultivate.”

“Might A-Jiu desire some male companionship too?” the dancer Li Cheng asked optimistically. He was posing in a seductive manner, leaning up against one of the wooden poles in the main lounge area, one arm sliding up the post, stretching out his muscular torso so it appeared to its best advantage, while his other hand toyed with the neckline of his robe where a little triangle of his bare collarbones and chest was visible. He might not be showing much skin by modern standards, but it was shockingly flirtatious in this time and place!

“No thank you,” he replied, embarrassed. A couple of the ladies were giggling, and he was pretty sure it was at him. “Your dance last time was very nice, though. I enjoyed watching it.”

“Perhaps gongzi can watch me perform another time,” Li Cheng said, his voice a low purr.

Madam Zhao looked more amused than sympathetic, but she shooed him away with some quietly murmured instructions. “Leave A-Jiu alone unless he requests your company. You may talk to him only in public areas, and no touching.”

“Of course, Madam. A-Jiu.” Li Cheng gave a small obedient bow in farewell, before leaving to mingle with the small handful of other patrons, fetching them drinks.

Shen Qingqiu’s three selected ladies rushed him upstairs, with Kong Xiaolian practicing her escorting skills, clinging closely to his arm as they went up, her small breasts pressed up against his arm in a very uncomfortable fashion.

He pulled free politely once they were inside ‘his’ room, which was labelled with Xiang Qiaolian’s name on a carved nameplate.

“We picked my room today because it’s nice and clean, and my guzheng is here, and there’s plenty of space in here.”

Hou Mingzhu perked up. “Room for dancing!”

Oh yes, she was the woman who was dancing with Li Cheng last time.

“Aren’t you supposed to be resting your ankle?” Xiang Qiaolian said doubtfully.

“Well… it’s fine for a little while,” she replied defensively. “But I would be in a lot of pain if Madam Zhao wanted me to dance for hours. What do you think Xiaolian, do you want a dance lesson? If A-Jiu doesn’t mind, of course?”

“I don’t mind,” he promised. “I can play accompaniment.”

“No, I can do that,” Xiang Qiaolian insisted. “Refreshments first, then a dance lesson and I’ll play! A-Jiu can watch, or maybe join in.”

“Oh yes!” Hou Mingzhu said, with a light giggle. “I could teach you a fan dance, A-Jiu!”

“That sounds fun!” the youngest one agreed. “I’d like to dance. I don’t have much talent for playing the guzheng, but I’d like to become a better dancer!”

“Is that something I’ve done before?” Shen Qingqiu asked cautiously.

“I don’t know,” Hou Mingzhu said. “But don’t you think it would be fun?”

He wasn’t sure. Maybe? It’s not like anyone would see me.

Kong Xiaolian was dispatched to fetch wine and sweet snacks and fruit, then they relaxed together for a while sampling two different kinds of plum wine.

Hey System! Any points gains yet? Or a quest?

[No quests. No points. Does Host wish to spend 300 B-Points for a Small Scenario Pusher – Basic Edition?]

He huffed sulkily, draining his cup and slamming it down on the table. The plum wine went down with a heady, burning sensation that left a sweet, tart aftertaste in his mouth. The junior meimei refilled it instantly.

No. Not unless it will gain me more than 300 B-Points for using it!

[Maybe!]

He sighed and had a nibble on some melon slices before indulging in a little more wine. Hopefully he’d get more out of this visit than the collection of new yellow books full of delightfully dramatic plots and questionable sex scenes, his silver Totoro yaopei, and his new dragon-covered teapot with the matching set of seven cups each decorated with a starred orange dragon ball. He wanted some points, damn it! He deserved points. Shen Jiu came here all the time! He was being in character, and he was missing out on his usual reliable trickle of points for praising Binghe’s cooking, training with him, and braiding his hair at night!

Pleeease System! Aren’t we friends? he pleaded, feeling a little tipsy and desperate.

[System is your friend! System will try and find an option for you to gain big points today. (๑ > ᴗ < ๑) ]

Thanks, System!

It gave him a single point for playing the guzheng for a lesson for Xiang Qiaolian, which was something at least.

He relaxed as the night wore on, and his jiejie took over playing the guzheng while he just lounged around, reclining on a sofa as he watched Hou Mingzhu give Kong Xiaolian a dance lesson. It was warm and stuffy in the room, with the windows closed and a roaring fire going, and musky incense burning in the corner. Nothing aphrodisiac – he’d asked! – just something faintly soothing that also had a nice fragrance.

“Your arm is up too high, meimei,” he observed, his inner critic coming out. He drank some more chilled wine, then slurped a spoonful of some soft almond jelly from his bowl. “Your jiejie is making a more graceful swoop lower down, while you’re flailing about like a giant squid trying to yank down a ship.”

[+1 B-Point for in-character actions!]

Yes! Inner critic for the win.

“Your fan should be an extension of your arm,” he added. “The movement you start with your shoulder continues down your arm and into your fan as a single motion. Don’t separate them out into steps, let it flow.”

The young girl pouted and puffed her cheeks out like an angry little hamster. “I’m trying! You do it if it’s so easy.”

“Oh yes, do join in, A-Jiu!” Hou Mingzhu said, clapping her hands. “I brought a spare fan for you!”

It does look fun. I wonder if I can dance? I was dreadful at dancing back home. But I’m more graceful here. Still…

“I don’t have the right robes,” he demurred. “The sleeves are all wrong for dancing. They won’t flutter right.”

“You can borrow some of mine,” Xiang Qiaolian offered. “I’m the tallest!”

Twenty minutes later he had conceded to being bundled into her spare robes, and Cao Chunhua had snuck into his room to do his hair and makeup to match.

“Not too much!” he pleaded. “I’m not a girl.”

“Just a little,” she promised. “Like we’d do for Li Cheng or another man.”

First, she lightly powdered his face, then darkened his eyebrows and added an upward slant at the far corners, and also applied a little clear lip gloss. “Would A-Jiu like a huadian?” she asked.

“A little flame?” he asked, thinking of Luo Binghe’s zuiyin, his heavenly demon mark of sin.

She drew a small symbol between his eyebrows in red with a fine brush that tickled as the paint went on. “Anything else, A-Jiu? Shall I draw in some dimple spots? Have a look in the mirror.”

He looked, and found his own appearance startlingly pretty, but a little disturbing. The huadian was nice – not really like Binghe’s mark, it had turned out more flower-like, but vaguely reminiscent of a flame if you squinted. “A veil maybe.”

I can hide with a veil, just like Best Wife Liu Mingyan!

“I want a beauty spot too,” he added. “Just here.” He pointed to a spot under his left eye. It looked very nice and manly on Liu Qingge!

Look at me, I’m Liu Mingyan! he thought happily to himself, twirling in front of the mirror once the veil and final touches were done. If I was at a convention my cosplay would be a big hit.

“Now we dance!” he pronounced.

Cao Chunhua sighed. “I have to get back out there before the madam notices, but you have fun, A-Jiu!”

And he did. Hou Mingzhu dragged him into dancing, and all relaxed by wine, good food, and better company, he loosened up and found himself having a lot of fun. He’d never used a fan like that before! He typically just waved it for the aesthetic, and occasionally hit Shang Qinghua with it, or Binghe if he was being too cheeky and practically asking for a reprimanding bop on the head.

The jiejies loaned him one of their pretty embroidered silk fans dyed sunset orange, a little larger than his usual style, and with lovely balance that made it good for flipping around as part of the dance.

He followed the steps a little stiffly at first before he got the hang of it. Not because he was remembering it, but because he was learning the fan dance. Sure, the gracefulness was borrowed, and the smooth coordination was innate to his body. But this dance was new, it was his, and it was fun!

A sword cut through the air, precise and sharp, but a fan dragged through it. It resisted the air, it shaped it. He played with the push and pull of it, how it flowed and drifted. Sharp flicks with his fan closed, then splaying it open to let it drift down. Like a painter creating invisible art, the breezes he made shaped the world around him, patterns in the air that no-one could see, but could only feel. With his body he showed the shape of the wind; he was the wind. Like air, like water, he ebbed and flowed. He was music.

He laughed and spun around to the strum of the guzheng’s strings, copying Hou Mingzhu’s moves and then trying new variants. He pushed a little qi into his fan and with judicious flicks he sent a qi-enforced breeze to swirl around him, making the trailing silk sleeves flutter artistically, and sending his hair streaming in a light breeze that affected no-one else. This would look so cool if he could dance in the middle of falling cherry blossom petals!

“I could do this with plucked leaves and flying flowers!” he boasted, a little tipsily. “It would look so pretty. Look at our sleeves!”

The other two ladies dancing shrieked playfully and laughed as he sent a little breeze their way too, ruffling their clothes for the sheer aesthetic of swirling silk. “Ah, stop A-Jiu!” one squealed.

He relented right away, laughing and twirling his fan around himself. Graceful as a swooping bird, light as a butterfly flapping its wings! He danced and spun, having the time of his life.

I bet Liu Mingyan would dance for Emperor Luo Binghe, he thought, swaying his hips for his imaginary audience. He flipped the fan in his hand successfully a few times and then fumbled a little before catching it and giving it another wave. He laughed out loud. This was so fun!

“You’ve almost got it! Move a little lower this time,” Hou Mingzhu encouraged. “I’m getting a little sore though, I’ll have to stop soon.”

“I can keep going! Let’s do it again!” Kong Xiaolian demanded, with a girlish giggle.

Their accompanist on the guzheng groaned. “Isn’t four times enough? My hands are getting tired and sore.”

There was a sharp rap on the door. “Shen Qingqiu, you have a visitor,” Madam Zhao announced, opening the door.

But it wasn’t just her at the door, Qi Qingqi was right behind her, looking around the room with a purse-mouthed furious expression.

“Lecher! You are ruining our sect’s reputation! Just what do you think you… are… doing…?” she said, starting angry but trailing off in confusion when she looked around the room at the four fully clothed women (albeit in thin silks) with no sign anywhere of Shen Qingqiu.

He gulped and raised his fan over his face out of nervous habit, forgetting for a moment that he had a veil on which hid his face anyway.

It had the opposite effect to the one intended and drew his shimei’s attention like a hawk. “Shen Qingqiu… is that you?”

He coughed nervously. “Ahem. Is there some dire emergency back at the sect which requires my presence, Qingqi-shimei? I must admit I might be a little too drunk to fly back, right now.”

She stared at him with her brow furrowed in frustration as he fluttered his fan, and the girls around him scowled. The two older ones moved in front of him, closing ranks, while the youngest eeped and hid behind him.

“This? This is what you were doing with these… women? Dancing and drinking? What are you wearing? And why are you dressed up like–”

“It simply suited the dance,” he said, trying to salvage his dignity and save face with his interruption. But he suspected he was failing miserably in that attempt.

“You’re coming back to the sect before you disgrace us.”

“Disgrace you? In a private room – private before you barged in – with no-one else around to see what I do or even suspect that I’m here at all?”

She harrumphed unhappily, crossing her arms sternly. It was a better look on Liu Qingge.

“It is time to leave.”

He tossed the fan aside onto a table and threw himself down dramatically on the long plush chair designed for lounging. “You’re not the boss of me! I outrank you. So, I order you to leave me alone,” he insisted. “I paid for my time and I’m not hurting anyone – I never do – so leave me alone to drink and dance and nap with my jiejies. Madam Zhao, I believe I paid for privacy.”

“Of course, A-Jiu,” Madam Zhao said. “I do apologize, your sect sister insisted she needed to see you urgently. Please come this way, Peak Lord Qi.”

To his relief, she left quietly at that, looking thoughtful… though not truly apologetic.

After a night’s sleep, some meditation to help clear his hangover a little, and a leisurely bath (insistently taken on his own, no back scrubbing required), he eventually stumbled downstairs for some breakfast and some fresh air. Qi Qingqi was still there in the Warm Red Pavilion the next the morning, like a disturbing stalker.

“Join me for breakfast,” she said, patting the chair next to her.

He took a seat, eyeing her cautiously as he sat and served himself something light from the offerings already on the table.

“I think,” she said, “that I have been misjudging you for some time, Shen Qingqiu. Haven't I?”

He nodded regally, acting like he wasn't hungover in the slightest or at all embarrassed about the situation she’d caught him in the night before. “I rather think that you have been. I would like to be on better terms with you, shimei. I'm not a lecher, and I don't prey on my students. I never would.”

She nodded. “Yes, I'd started to realise the latter from my discussions with Ning Yingying recently; I interrogated her discreetly about how you treat all your female disciples. I'm sorry I mistook the matter for so long; I do apologise. I see now that not only are you disinterested in your students, you aren’t interested in any women at all. You will be welcome in the future to visit Xian Shu Peak any time.”

Shen Qingqiu spluttered, choking on his tea. “It's not like that! I do like women!”

Qi Qingqi waved a hand dismissively, the bracelets on her arm chiming softly. “Of course. I understand you're not a misogynist; you're simply not interested in women sexually.”

“I’m not a cut-sleeve!” he insisted.

She gave him a sceptical look and hummed as she drank her tea.

“I'm not! I'm attracted to women!”

“I talked with some of your ‘jiejies’,” she responded lightly. “I bribed them to tell me the truth; I wanted to know if last night was an aberration or a standard kind of visit for you. Perhaps I should have trusted you... no, I really should have trusted you. But I wanted to know the truth beneath the nasty rumours, and men always hide their worst sides. They all said you've never touched a single one of them. Well.... nothing beyond harmless embraces. They sang your praises to the heavens, in fact.”

“I don't touch the few men here either,” he said, shifting awkwardly and whipping his fan out to hide his embarrassed face. “You probably know I'm missing some memories… but from what I do know, I just started coming here because I wanted somewhere sa… nice to sleep, and to listen to music in pleasant company, that’s all.”

She gave him another thoughtful look. “Perhaps you should ask the women here about more of your history; I certainly can't fill you in on your past as you never spoke much at all with me. They seem like trustworthy acquaintances, well, apart from that youngest girl who was with you last night; she offered to say pretty much whatever I wanted so long as I paid her enough.”

He blinked. “Oh, you mean Kong Xiaolian? Poor thing. I can't say I'm surprised – she's new to the Warm Red Pavilion, and like many of the women here has been forced into prostitution due to some rather dire circumstances. I understand she's recently lost her mother and her father is unable to work due to some permanently disabling leg injury. I hope you gave them all some money?”

“'Poor thing?' That's all you have to say about being betrayed?”

He shrugged. “It's hardly the worst kind of betrayal in the world. I don't blame her. You have to care about someone to feel the sting of betrayal, and I just don't know her that well. And she doesn't know me. If anything, I feel rather touched that the other women wouldn't badmouth me for money.”

“I understand.”

He thought about Shen Jiu being betrayed by his fellow gutter rats, then abandoned by his Qi-ge, and about the betrayal he might have to enact soon upon Luo Binghe if he couldn't scrounge up the last few hundred B-Points. Speaking of points...

[+20 B-Points for raising a character’s IQ and filling in a plot hole.]

Thanks, System!

“Are you planning to go home soon?”

“Yes, I finished my shopping yesterday afternoon, so I'm happy to head back to the peak after breakfast.”

“There’s always time for more shopping!”

Qi Qingqi insisted on accompanying and treating him to a little shopping expedition before returning back to the sect, and he had more fun than he expected. They picked up a variety of snacks, new teas, hair accessories, and a new winter-weight outfit in dark green that she insisted would bring out his eyes.

While they were out and about, they both took the opportunity to get better acquainted with each other. He apologetically admitted to using physical discipline on his students in the past but explained that for some years now he'd been using nonviolent methods, such as asking his students to run laps or write lines. She seemed to favour discipline through embarrassment; she publicly castigated them for their failings in front of their peers but wasn't averse to administering a few strikes with a bamboo cane when she felt it was needed. They boasted about their respective favourite students, and she expressed a fair amount of interest in learning more about Luo Binghe, while dodging what she called ‘inappropriate’ questions about what Liu Mingyan looked like beneath her veil.

“I'm just curious to know if she looks like her brother,” he explained.

“You’ll have to learn to live with that curiosity. She enjoys her privacy. Plus,” she added, with a mischievous look, “you should know on a personal level just how fun wearing a veil can be.”

“Low blow,” he said, with a wince. “I was drunk! You can't hold against me things I did or said while I was drunk.”

“I absolutely reserve the right to tease you about it until the day we ascend.”

“I can't believe the madam even let you in,” he grumbled. “I paid a lot for my privacy and wasn't supposed to be disturbed.”

Her eyes sparkled as she smiled. “I think it was either because she was worried that I might kick the door in if denied, like Liu Qingge would, or that she thought it was about time for someone in the sect to be on your side.”

He rolled his eyes. “So long as you don't start accusing me of lechery, I don't really care if you're on my side or not.”

[+1 B-Point for in-character actions!]

“Too late, we're friends now,” she pronounced.

He guessed that wasn't the worst thing in the world. A couple of days later, however, when Qi Qingqi stopped by after dinner with a bottle of plum wine, his ‘lost’ fan (that was actually from the brothel – the one he’d danced with), and some terrible poetry to bitch about together, Luo Binghe’s woebegone face suggested that he held entirely the opposite opinion on the matter.

“Don’t fret shizhi,” she reassured him, in a mock whisper accompanied by a very obvious wink, “this Qi-shigu of yours is only interested in women, while your Shizun is only interested in men. So, there's really nothing to worry over in my visiting him; we're not courting.”

Binghe smiled at her, no doubt humouring her nonsense.

“I told you I prefer women,” he insisted.

“He did indeed say that,” she agreed, but with a teasing smile. “The bad news is that he also insisted with great sincerity that he would never consider any kind of romantic liaison with a student.”

“Of course not, shigu,” Binghe said politely. “Shizun’s behaviour is exemplary and above reproach.”

[-5 protagonist satisfaction points.]

Oh, come on! he complained in his mind, with an anxious look at his student’s determinedly bland expression that didn’t show his internal upset.

“You're upsetting Binghe with your insinuations and nonsense,” he said crossly.

Of course the stallion protagonist wouldn't be interested in anything to do with cut-sleeves, or want to think about his old martial aunt sleeping with women! A threesome with a couple of young wives, maybe, but not Qi Qingqi!

Maybe Binghe is worried that I might prey upon Ning Yingying, since Qi Qingqi alluded to those rumours in a roundabout fashion?

“This shixiong is not interested in anyone and is happy to simply concentrate on advancing his cultivation. This one kindly asks shimei to focus on tearing this terrible poetry to shreds instead of people’s characters.”

They had a lovely visit after that, and Binghe brought out his best snacks and seemed to settle down, though sadly the System didn't give him any more points until it was time to brush his student’s hair for bed.

-000-

9821 points. That’s 179 points to go, and only four days to earn them before the conference. That’s 45 points a day. I’m not going to make it, am I, System? Why aren’t you giving me more Protagonist Satisfaction points? Why do you keep giving me deductions? I’m giving him all the opportunities in the world to spend time with Ning Yingying and Liu Mingyan, and… nothing! I don’t think he's dating either of them and I certainly can't force the matter. Leading classes, praising Binghe’s cooking, and brushing his hair just isn't enough to earn 45 B-Points a day. I don't know what you want me to do here. Do you want me to start abusing my students like Shen Jiu did for more points?!

[This System would prefer that you complete the critical quest ‘The Endless Abyss and Endless Hatred’ but is kindly offering Host completely fair opportunities to earn points to offset the penalty Host is planning to incur.]

He sighed and poked sadly at his congee. What he wouldn't give for a hot coffee and a big bag of chips right now! He needed comfort food, and while Binghe was an excellent cook, it was impossible for him to make junk food with ingredients that didn't even exist in ancient China, like potatoes and coffee.

[-1 protagonist satisfaction point.]

Fuck. He buried his face in his hands. There goes another point for not appreciating his cooking enough. You don’t want me to get 10,000 points, just admit it.

[This System is being as fair as possible.]

“Shizun?”

He straightened up and gave his student a serious look. “Binghe? Do you want to become stronger? Stronger until you are without rival?”

The answer was yes, of course. It was of small comfort to him right now. He moped around the peak playing melancholy songs on his guqin, and sent another letter to Shang Qinghua checking on how their mushroom-growing project was going.

“What would make Binghe happy?” he asked that evening, giving up on the book he was reading and tossing it to one side. It was trash anyway.

Binghe looked at him and smiled but looked worried beneath that surface mask. “Shizun makes me happy. This student could want for nothing more.”

Well, that was no help. I hate this world. I hate the System.

“Thank you, Binghe,” he said dully.

[-1 protagonist satisfaction point.]

Just what I needed, thank you System.

“Maybe Binghe should find something else to do elsewhere this evening that makes him happy, this master has not been very good company today,” he suggested, with as calm and friendly an air as possible.

“This disciple is happy here, Shizun,” he insisted.

[-2 protagonist satisfaction points.]

One of you is lying!

His lips pressed together in a tight, thin line, he strode over to his guzheng and tried getting his feelings out with some angry music. He could only remember the chorus right now, though. The first line of it repeated almost endlessly!

     “…Now you do what they told ya
     And now you do what they told ya
     Now you're under control!
     And now you do what they told ya
     Now you're under control!”

He paused his frustrated singing to experiment with the right notes for his arrangement of ‘Killing in the Name’, and to ponder how to fix the lyrics to remove the swearing that came later. He knew the band’s other song ‘Wake Up’ much better because it had been in The Matrix, and he’d loved that movie to death (though not its shitty sequels). He felt a lot like raging against machines right now! One in particular!

     Fuck you, I won't do what you tell me!

[Warning! Your planned course of action risks deportation back to your original world!]

Would his still-growing Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom body catch his soul in the case of deportation by the System? Or only for natural death?

He’d tried roping in Shang Qinghua to brainstorm ways to make Binghe happier, but the pervert could only come up with papapa-related wife plots involving sex pollen, and he absolutely refused to inflict a sexual assault plot device on any of his students! Binghe and the girls deserved better than that; he’d literally rather die than be a party to such things.

“Shizun sounds a bit stuck with composing lyrics today,” Binghe said tentatively. “This disciple would love to hear a different song.”

He sighed and nodded. Would that make my protagonist happy, perhaps? Anything for Binghe!

     “Baby, I have no story to be told
     But I've heard one on you
     Now I'm gonna make your head burn…”

Binghe sat on the floor in front of him to watch and listen from close by.

     “You're gonna wish you never had met me
     The scars of your love remind me of us
     Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep…”

His fingers stumbled on the strings as his voice choked up. The chorus was difficult to sing on his own. He really needed a second person helping him; a backing singer to make the lyrics flow right. He couldn’t manage well on his own; he was ruining it but he didn’t know how to change things to fix it.

He hung his head and stared down at the guzheng blankly.

Idiot! Stop being so depressed, stupid! he ordered himself. You’re just making things worse and worrying Binghe! Snap out of it!

It hadn’t worked back home when he got like this on bad days; he didn’t know why he thought castigating himself would work now. It never did. He wished he could lock himself up with his laptop and read shitty novels in bed while listening to his favourite playlists. But he’d never be able to do that ever again. Soon he might not be able to do anything ever again.

“That was beautiful and haunting. What does it mean, Shizun?” Binghe asked gently.

“Ah!” Shen Yuan said, startled. “The song is called ‘Rolling in the Deep’. It’s… well it’s the angry song of a scorned woman; she thought her lover would always be there for her, but he let her down and she’s bitter and vengeful about it. All that love turned to raw pain and anger now the good times are over.”

Taking out a handkerchief from his sleeve, Binghe stood and walked over, hesitantly passing it to him. He touched his own cheeks and found to his surprise they were wet with tears. How embarrassing! Shen Yuan took the hanky with silent gratitude. He wiped away the tears he hadn’t even noticed leaking out, then dabbed at a couple of drops that had fallen unnoticed on his guzheng.

“Please forgive your foolish master. I’m in a poor mood lately, but it’s not Binghe’s fault in any way. Binghe makes me happy, your Shizun appreciates your thoughtfulness,” he said, offering a wan smile.

[+1 protagonist satisfaction point.]

“Does your song tell of someone who is Shizun’s lost love?”

The look on his face as he asked was odd; Shen Yuan couldn’t make it out. He dabbed his face dry.

“No, no. I haven’t lost anyone like that yet; I’ve never fallen in love to be hurt like that! It’s just… it’s a sad song. That’s why I’m crying. And I’m having a bad day,” he admitted, shamefaced. “A bit silly, I know.”

Binghe tilted his head like a curious bird but then smiled with satisfaction. “I hope Shizun never suffers such loss in the future, then.”

[+1 protagonist satisfaction point.]

“Let us hope so.” He really did.

“Hug?” he asked tentatively, a quiet whisper in the night. He wasn’t sure if he was asking for himself or for Binghe; maybe they could both use a hug right now with the future ahead of them looking so dark. Binghe stepped forward without hesitation, and Shen Qingqiu moved into his embrace, letting Binghe’s arms wrap around him comfortingly.

[+5 protagonist satisfaction points.]

He leant his head against Binghe’s shoulder and clung tightly to him, and Binghe stroked down his long silken hair like he was a child in need of comfort. He buried his face in Binghe’s robes, not wanting to face the world right now, or whatever potentially judgemental look might be on Binghe’s face.

Ah, shouldn’t every child grow up and learn that their teachers and parents aren’t perfect? No adult is. He could chalk this incident up as a Valuable Life Lesson.

“Shizun…” Binghe murmured softly, squeezing him gently to his chest with his left arm while his right hand continued its gentle stroking of his hair, an echo of his own head-patting behaviour whenever Binghe got upset. “It’s alright, Shizun. I have you. It’s alright to cry for just a little while. I won’t tell anyone.”

I’m not crying! I’m just… resting a little. Just for a minute. They were practically like family, anyway. It wasn’t weird.

He squeezed Binghe back, both arms wrapped around his waist and back.

“Binghe… thank you.”

[+2 protagonist satisfaction points.]

If you keep being generous again with the points like this, I might start thinking I can make it, System.

He lingered in the hug for a while, earning an extra point, and wondered for the dozenth time just when it was that Binghe had gotten so tall and muscular! He has to be the same height as me now; it’s totally unfair!

Wasn’t Shen Qingqiu supposed to be a little taller than him? He blamed all the good nutrition he’d blessed his precious lotus with instead of that original scum’s neglect.

[There will be more opportunities to earn B-Points at the Immortal Alliance Conference!]

Promises, promises. You’d better make good on them! This Shen Qingqiu will not appreciate being let down!

Chapter Text

So, this is what his scrimping and saving and grinding for points for years had gotten him! He’d worried he’d be hit with a sneaky point deduction on the last day, but it was worse than that. The point penalty had been doubled at the last minute.

Twenty. Thousand. Points! TWENTY. System, you utter bastard. Fuck your ancestors to the eighteenth generation! You know how hard I worked to get that ten thousand, grinding and hoping every day for literally years, and then you just spit in my face like this!

It was counting down now. FUCK!

“Shizun?”

He couldn’t look at that teary face. He wouldn’t be able to do this if he had to look him in the eye, or even at the fiery red zuiyin on his forehead.

“Binghe, I… I’m so sorry. You’re a demon so you… you have to go,” he said, choking up. “This is for the best… I’m so very sorry. I pray one day you’ll understand. Please, just go.”

I’m not going to give a speech about how shit being a demon is, he thought angrily, through the tears. Pushing him is all you’re demanding, and I’m not giving you one bit more than the minimum, System!!

He let his bloodied sword drop – threw it behind him – to a choked gasp of relief from his little white lotus (still small and precious in his heart, no matter how tall he got). But his disciple’s relief didn’t last long, because Shen Qingqiu lunged forward and pushed him down with both hands.

There was no music in his heart. How could there be, at a time like this?

He looked down at the blood on his hands. He was still shaking and staring at the red staining him when the other peak lords found him, the qi in his veins a tangled, blocked mess.

The System took away the rest of his points before powering down, with some bullshit excuse about Binghe’s heartbreak total. His System was not helping him. It had never been interested in helping him. It only cared about the story, and a tragic sudden betrayal by a student’s favourite teacher made for an even better narrative than the predictably inevitable betrayal of a hateful scum villain.

Twenty. Thousand. Mother-fucking. Points!

-000-

Binghe sang to himself in the Abyss, crooning sadly out loud while running his hands over the new scar on his chest.

     “The scars of your love remind me of us
     They keep me thinkin' that we almost had it all”

While he fought monsters his mind replayed an echoed memory of his Shizun singing, as Binghe bathed in their blood and his own.

     Don't underestimate the things that I will do!
     There's a fire starting in my heart…

He sang as he wandered the endless fiery plains alone, then he sang to drown out the chittering when he waded through acidic swamps full of blood-sucking monsters, always desperate to find a path home. Or if not home – for was it truly home if he wasn’t welcome there? – at least out of this hellish realm and back to the Human Realm.

     “Think of me in the depths of your despair
     Make a home down there, as mine sure won't be shared”

I think this is what Shizun called an ‘earworm’, Binghe mused sadly.

He huddled under a rock overhang for its rough shelter, hoping to snatch a few precious hours of sleep. He cradled the cute jade mushroom ornament his Shizun had given him in his hands. He’d turned it into a necklace after his belt had become too ruined to hold it safely; it now dangled next to his mother’s gift on the same cord. Shizun’s gift had undoubtedly been more expensive, but they were both equally valuable to his wounded heart. He brushed his hand across his mushroom pendant.

One more life… I’m going to fight for it. I won’t give up, no matter how much it hurts. No matter how what you did haunts me, no matter how your words keep echoing in my mind like knives, killing me softly with your song…

‘Rolling in the Deep’. It was the last song he’d heard Shizun sing. Perhaps the last he’d ever hear him sing, since he was destined to die alone in the Endless Abyss. He sang a couple more lines plaintively, before breaking into gasping sobs.

     “You had my heart inside of your hand!
     But you played it with a beating–”

The next morning, he tried to focus less on how utterly miserable he was and instead concentrate more on how he was going to get out. And how someone was going to pay for his suffering. He remembered his Shizun’s tales of the legendary sword Xin Mo that could cut between dimensions and turned his weary steps towards an especially jagged mountain range far off in the distance.

That’s the spirit! Meng Mo encouraged, his only company now, and more annoyingly active in his current desperation, knowing that their collective existence was constantly at risk. Start with that ice demon you hate – maybe conquer the whole Northern Desert while you’re at it – then head for Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. Embrace your demonic nature and make them all pay for how they’ve treated you. As a Heavenly Demon, you could even become Emperor!

Binghe nodded unenthusiastically and hummed a final line before falling quiet for a while.

     “You'll pay me back in kind and reap just what you've sown.”

I’ll see you again, Shizun, whether you want me to or not. You couldn’t even look at me properly when you pushed me in… You looked at me like I didn’t even exist, like I wasn’t right there before you begging for mercy. Why, Shizun?!

He shifted to another song.

     “He sang as if he knew me
     In all my dark despair
     And then he looked right through me
     As if I wasn't there–”

Why?! Shizun, do you really hate demons that much?

-000-

Almost a year later, Shen Qingqiu stared blankly at the walls of the Bamboo House, his book discarded at his side. The light grew dim early these winter evenings, and the house seemed colder and emptier than it ever had before. There was no cheery bustling and singing coming from the kitchen. There never would be again. Nothing but the sound of wind in the bamboo outside relieved the unrelenting pressure of silence that weighed him down. Smothering him… trapping him. Silent as the grave. He stared at the cooling bowl of rice and stir-fried vegetables and meat on the table before him but couldn't muster up the slightest enthusiasm for his unappetizing meal.

Grabbing Xiu Ya and shoving his guqin in its padded carry bag, he fled his too-silent house, headed for the noisy bustle of An Ding Peak.

“Airplane, I've come to help you with your paperwork like the kind friend I am,” he pronounced, entering without so much as a by your leave.

“Bro! Really?” Qinghua said, raising his ink-stained face from where he was bent over his desk and looking at him with dawning hope. “Please don't be joking, because I swear I have so much to get through this evening.”

“No joke. I just felt like helping you out today.”

A couple of sweet little An Ding disciples stopped by to both deliver and pick up paperwork for their peak lord, but as the evening stars began to appear the busy little beavers headed off for their own dinners and bed.

“Tea and snacks? Or maybe some wine?” Qinghua offered. “I don't know what else I can do to thank you, Cucumber-bro.”

“Wine, I think. Maybe a few snacks,” he conceded.

He stayed for hours, probably drinking more than he should have. But didn't he have good reasons to want to forget his troubles?

“Binghe always made the best snacks,” he commented wistfully, nibbling at a sweet haw flake. “I still miss his cooking. Do you think if he kept me imprisoned he would still cook for me?”

“Probably not bro. I think the best you can expect is the same I'm hoping for; a quick death at the hands of your favourite demon. If we’re really lucky we’ll get enough advance warning to try running for it… if our Systems allow it.”

“How can Mobei-Jun be your favourite demon? Isn't your protagonist your favourite? That doesn't even make sense. Binghe Is literally the best thing in this world,” Shen Yuan said, poking him crossly in the chest, making Airplane sway slightly and clutch at the table to regain his balance.

“You don't understand! Mobei-Jun is the hottest. I wanna climb that man like a tree. Binghe was for the readers, bro, Mobei-Jun is the secret gay love interest that never got used, and I wrote him for me. The strong and silent tsundere type, hot as fuck and hung like a horse.”

“You made the macho King of the North gay?! Airplane! What the hell?!”

“I'm gay bro. Didn't you know that already? You teased me about not wanting to date me and everything!”

Shen Qingqiu shook his head in disbelief. “No. Wow. Wow. You don’t look gay.”

“Be cool, Cucumber! Aren’t you gay too? You totally set off my gaydar. Haven’t you been simping for Luo Binghe for years?”

“Your gaydar is broken, I’m straight.”

Qinghua gazed at him narrowly with drunken suspicion. “That's not what Qi Qingqi says.”

“Qi Qingqi is full of shit,” he said, slamming down some more wine. “She's fun to talk smack about terrible literature with though.”

He looked at his friend curiously. “So, are you and Mobei-Jun like… together?”

Shang Qinghua snorted in amusement. “I only wish I could squeeze and bite those luscious pecs like ripe peaches. Nah, I’m just an unpaid, poor little doomed NPC minion, thanks so much, System.”

“Fuck the System.”

“Ganbei!” Qinghua called out, toasting the sentiment whole-heartedly, and they both drained their cups.

[This System is in Hibernation Mode. Please reconnect to central power source ‘Luo Binghe’.]

It’s still weird to not be trying to grind points every day. Fuck the System.

[This System is in Hibernation Mode. Please reconnect to central power source ‘Luo Binghe’.]

Stupid thing pings at me whenever it hears its name!

Qinghua snacked on some reddish Dragon-Bone Cantaloupe seeds, and he nibbled a few too. Not bad!

“You know, knowing that you're a gay virgin suddenly explains so much about the sex scenes in Proud Immortal Demon Way.”

“I never said I was a virgin.”

“You are though, right?”

Qinghua started sobbing and suddenly lunged at him, grabbing him in a hug. “Yes! Bro, I'm gonna die a virgin! It's so sad!”

Shen Qingqiu pushed him off roughly.

Qinghua whined, looking up at him with pathetic, sad eyes from where he lay sprawled on the floor. “You don't mind that I'm gay, do you? This isn't gonna be like my parents all over again, is it?”

Shen Qingqiu sighed and hauled his friend back up to a sitting position. “I'm not rejecting you, I’m just you know… rejecting you,” he explained drunkenly. “If that was a pass it was pathetic, and it's a no.”

“Pfff. You can't measure up to my ice king’s bounteous bosom. You're not that hot.”

“I am so hot!” he insisted. “Shen Qingqiu is like the third hottest guy in Cang Qiong Mountain Sect after Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge.”

“I wish Shang Qinghua was hotter,” was the whining reply. “If we were back home I'd totally be a model, but here I'm just average. What about Yue Qingyuan? You don’t think he’s hot? You telling me you don’t wanna moosh your face on that big chest and grab that pert arse and–?”

He held up a warning hand, cutting him off.

“I’m begging you to stop. It’s a big NO. Too brotherly by far, so stop making me think about him like that. Ew.”

As they debated the objective merits of the various peak lords and their favourite demons, Mobei-Jun himself arrived in Qinghua’s house, stepping out of the shadows and swirling his heavy cape around himself as he did so.

He’s a dramatic fuck, but he sure does look cool, Shen Qingqiu mused, his mind a muzzy mess.

Mobei-Jun paused in shock before manifesting an ice spear and levelling it at Shen Qingqiu.

“No, my king! Please don't! He's cool, it's cool, we're all cool,” Qinghua babbled, stumbling as he grabbed at his demon’s arm, pulling it down. “No revenge, he understands. It’s cool!”

“Great,” mumbled Shen Qingqiu. “Now you're dragging me into your conspiracy. Couldn’t you have warned me he was going to show up? I don't even like him that much, especially not since he treats you like shit and is likely to kill you.”

Mobei-Jun narrowed his eyes. “Is he a threat, Qinghua?”

“No, no, my king! He’s a friend, don't hurt him!”

The slate-blue ice demon narrowed his eyes suspiciously but let the ice spear disintegrate in a shower of white sparkles. “You are drunk,” he accused.

“You can't kill me,” Shen Qingqiu insisted. “My death is reserved for someone else. You get to kill Qinghua but I'd rather you didn't; he’s my friend. Poor Qinghua is going to die a virgin, and it's all your fault!”

Qinghua clung to Mobei-Jun’s arm and slumped against his broad, muscular chest, his burst of adrenaline gone. “It’s true. It’s so sad. Hey Alexa, play Despacito!”

Funniest. Idea. Ever!

Shen Qingqiu stumbled over to the desk where he’d set up his guqin earlier and started picking out the notes slowly. “Do you know the lyrics? I don’t. I think I can do the tune, though.”

“I know some of the translation, but I suck at foreign languages.”

Mobei-Jun stood in the centre of the room, bewildered at being ignored. “You don’t have friends. No-one visits here,” he insisted, despite the obvious evidence to the contrary. “Why isn’t he trying to kill me after I attacked both him and his student, the one you wanted me to fight?”

“Please, like you could kill Binghe. You could never. But you shouldn’t have set it up, anyway!” Shen Yuan complained, talking to them both with his back turned, trying to remember the melody.

“I had to,” Shang Qinghua whined. “His seal, bro. Would you have preferred the rhino python thing?”

“Hmph,” he retorted, his fuzzy mind unable to think of a comeback right now. He restarted the song, playing more smoothly the second time.

Qinghua stumbled over to where he was playing, and started swaying to the music as he sang, out of time with the song but doing his best to match the melody despite the difficulties posed by singing a rough translation.

     “I want to breathe on your neck slowly
     Let me whisper things into your ear
     So you remember if you're not with me
     I want to undress you with kisses slowly”

“What is this?” Mobei-Jun snarled. “Are you courting him?”

“No, he’s only interested in you, and you don’t even care,” Shen Qingqiu complained. “He can do better than you. You beat him up.”

“It’s so sad,” Qinghua agreed drunkenly, before realising what they were talking about. “Hey! Don’t tell him!”

“Too late,” he snorted. “Just finish the song.”

Qinghua nodded and picked it back up as best he could, resting a hand on Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder for balance as he swayed dizzily next to him, gyrating roughly in time with the beat.

     “I want to see your hair dance
     I want to join your rhythm
     Teach my mouth
     All your favourite places–”

Mobei-Jun snarled again, all pointed fangs and rage. He darted across the room and grabbed at Shang Qinghua, who let out a scared yelp as he was seized by the scruff of his neck.

“He is mine!” Mobei-Jun growled, then disappeared with Qinghua in a swirl of shadows, yanking him into black nothingness like a horror movie villain.

Huh. I hope Airplane will be okay. He tried to think if there was anything he could do to help his friend, but the frozen north where Mobei-Jun lived was so far away it ruled out most options for a swift rescue. I guess I’ll take over tending the mushrooms and setting up that array if you don’t come back, Airplane-bro.

He stumbled back over to the table and grabbed another cup of wine. “Good luck! Ganbei!” he toasted, raising his glass for his absent friend.

Back home the next morning, horrifically hungover and regretting all his life choices, Shen Qingqiu got a short note with proof of life from Qinghua.

     ‘Bro, I’m not going to die a virgin now! :D’

Ew. TMI.

Chapter Text

“Xiao Shen.”

Shen Qingqiu blinked, startled by the sudden address. He looked up from the sword mound to see Yue Qingyuan standing next to where he was kneeling, watching him with concern leaking through his usual placid mask.

“Are you alright?”

He nodded. “Just a little lost in thought.”

“We had planned to have tea together today,” Yue Qingyuan reminded him.

“Ah, it slipped my mind,” he apologised, and they walked back together to the Bamboo House.

Ming Fan was delighted to fetch them both some tea, though Shen Qingqiu ignored the bao buns he brought (without asking) to accompany them.

They had a pleasant time discussing peak business; what missions people had been dispatched on lately, what materials had been ordered for various peaks, and how their respective students were going.

“I wouldn't object to hearing a story from my past if you want to share one today, gege,” he offered, feeling in a generous mood. And hey, the secret lore was cool! He still wasn’t completely convinced by Shang Qinghua’s reincarnation and amnesia theory, but either way it was still interesting learning about Shen Jiu’s past.

Yue Qingyuan lit up. “Then would you like to hear about your old shizun from the An generation, the former master of Qing Jing Peak?”

“I would love to.”

Yue Qingyuan, he suspected, saw the past through rose-coloured glasses. As his tale went on it painted a picture of a stern and demanding woman who focused on her classes and gave special privileges to her best students, but let the brats run feral in their free time. Not as bad as Liu Qingge’s absentee mentoring, but far from the involved manner Shen Qingqiu preferred. It sounded like her Lord of the Flies approach to managing the students outside of class had worked to Shen Jiu’s advantage in the end, though not without some stress.

“…You were so happy when the old head disciple left in disgrace and went back to his family,” Yue Qingyuan reminisced. “You never admitted to me outright that you were behind your shizun catching him red-handed selling Qian Cao’s more interestingly recreational drugs to mortals, but you were so insufferably smug about it I’m still convinced you had a hand in the matter somehow.”

“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” he sniffed dismissively, sipping at his tea with a small smile. “Qing Jing Peak is better off without someone like that around.”

Yue Qingyuan gave a soft smile that he was pretty sure meant he was acting rather like Shen Jiu. +5 B-Points to me for in-character actions!

[This System is in Hibernation Mode. Please reconnect to central power source ‘Luo Binghe’.]

“I heard Shang Qinghua got a second ‘gift song’,” Yue Qingyuan commented. “He was humming it to himself. Rather risque lyrics, Xiao Shen!”

You can’t blame me, aiyah! I only remembered the melody and a blur of incomprehensible Spanish!

“It was a collaborative effort,” he dissembled. “I worked on the tune, but Shang Qinghua composed the lyrics. He’s rather… distracted at the moment with a new love interest. He’s shy about it though, so don’t expect to see them visiting Cang Qiong.”

Yue Qingyuan’s eyebrows rose up high in startlement. “I can’t imagine him courting.”

“I certainly try not to,” Shen Qingqiu said dismissively. “I have been working on a song I selected for you but… it’s a rather sad one. My students have been whining a bit lately about me singing too many melancholy tunes. Though of course that’s not all I’m singing!”

Yue Qingyuan raised a thoughtful hand to his mouth then rested his chin in his hand. “I suppose there’s no way a song for me wouldn’t have some sadness in it. Your gege will be happy so long as it’s not angry.”

“…It might be a little angry,” he warned. “I don’t know… I was just thinking about our past and this song just resonated for me. Are you sure you want to hear it? I can work on arranging something else.”

“I want to hear it please, Xiao Shen.”

Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you! Please enjoy some broody rock, arranged for the guzheng. I had to change ‘bullets’ to ‘arrows’, but it’s otherwise much the same. I feel like a fraud taking credit for ‘composing’ someone else’s song, but at least the arrangement is all mine.

“It’s called ‘Believer’.” He started by drumming a beat with his palm on the wooden end of the guzheng, before starting to play.

     “First things first, I'm a say all the words inside my head
     I'm fired up and tired of the way that things have been, oh-ooh”

Yue Qingyuan started listening with his polite mask on, but he couldn’t hold it for long and it failed him almost instantly, as he winced even at the first lines.

     “Second thing second
     Don't you tell me what you think that I could be
     I'm the one at the sail, I'm the master of my sea”

That line got an amused, wry smile from his shixiong.

     “I was broken from a young age
     Taking my sulking to the masses
     Writing my poems for the few…”

A serious look now; it didn’t seem like Yue Qingyuan was going to like the song, exactly. Good music was like that though, it spoke to the heart.

     “Pain! You made me a, you made me a believer, believer
     Pain! You break me down, you build me up, believer, believer”

Yue Qingyuan looked he’d been punched in the gut now, his eyes wide and pained.

     “I was chokin' in the crowd, building my rain up in the cloud
     Falling like ashes to the ground, hoping my feelings, they would drown
     But they never did, ever lived, ebbin' and flowin'
     Inhibited, limited 'til it broke open and rained down
     It rained down like
     Pain!”

There was only broken sobbing from his shixiong now, and he broke off his playing.

“There’s another verse about fire and the future, but I think maybe that’s enough for now,” he said worriedly.

“I w-would like to hear the rest of it! Please!” Yue Qingyuan insisted, then blubbered ugly tears through the final verse and a couple more renditions of the chorus.

“It was beautiful,” he averred afterwards, through his tears. “Terrible, but beautiful. It was me… it was us.”

“Come here, gege,” Shen Qingqiu offered, holding out his arms.

Yue Qingyuan froze, staring at him and his outstretched arms.

“It’s alright, I know. I don’t have all the feelings right, but I know the broad outline of our past, and I’m sure you would have come back for me if you could. I forgive you for not keeping your promise, gege.”

“Xiao Jiu!” he sobbed, launching himself like a giant missile and letting himself be enfolded in a soft, green silken embrace. “I’m s-so sorry! I tried! I was too late! I was so broken, they locked me up in the Ling Xi Caves, Xiao Shen! The pain! There was so much pain, it ripped at me body and soul and never st-stopped! I know you suffered too, you believed in me and I let you d-down! The fire! I thought you’d died, I only found ashes – so many bones!”

His jumbled explanation would have been incoherent if not for Shen Qingqiu already knowing Shang Qinghua’s dry rendition of much of their secret history.

“Shh, it’s alright, I forgive you, gege.”

Yue Qingyuan sobbed and laughed so much that Shen Qingqiu started to panic, repetitively patting his shixiong’s hair like the man was Binghe having a breakdown about an imperfect dinner. “Don’t go having a qi deviation on me now, gege! I don’t have the spiritual reserves I did when I saved Liu Qingge!”

“This o-one will try not to trouble you so,” Yue Qingyuan sniffled into his shoulder, clutching him tightly like he’d disappear if he let go for a moment.

Too many of our meetings end in tears, gege. Next time I will sing you a happy song.

-000-

“Bro, do you have any idea how much you’re stressing out your students playing all these melancholy songs like your heart is broken?” Shang Qinghua asked, flopping down opposite him and pouring them both some tea. “They’re saying you never paint or do calligraphy anymore, and you used to do that practically every day. I hear you’re almost surgically attached to your guqin these days, only straying away for an occasional guzheng performance for the masses, or some quality time brooding at the sword mound every day.”

Shen Yuan ignored his tea, he just wasn’t thirsty right now. “There’s simply no point painting or doing calligraphy when I don’t get points for it, and I haven’t been in the mood to do it for fun. Besides, I do other things! I still teach my classes, do my important paperwork, and all sorts of stuff. I take missions off-peak as well! Also, I play a wide range of songs, they’re not all sad.”

Okay, Ming Fan does most of my more boring paperwork lately, but it’s still done and that’s the important thing. I’m not putting it off on you.

“‘Paint it Black’ isn’t sad?” Qinghua asked incredulously.

“It’s a rock classic. My students enjoyed it,” he said defensively. He had a sinking feeling about what Qinghua might say next.

Qinghua nodded. “At first they did. I heard about it from Ming Fan. They liked it at the start until they noticed how dark the lyrics got. When you paused in your singing to explain how black rather than white was the colour of mourning in a distant land, they put two and two together.”

“It’s an interesting cross-cultural fact; the song doesn’t make sense without that context.”

“Ming Fan said you were crying while singing about wanting to blot out the sun in your grief so the whole world would be black. He said you didn’t even notice tears were running down your face until Ning Yingying offered you a handkerchief.”

Shen Yuan hid his face behind his fan; a new creation with Mewtwo hiding amidst some bamboo

“Ming Fan’s a little snitch… I’ll have to have words with him. It’s just one song, anyway. I was having a bad day, that’s all. Look, I know I’m a bit depressed lately, it can’t be helped.”

“It’s not just one song. What about ‘Unsullied’ from Ashes of Love?”

“I loved that show, did you ever watch it? I felt like working on the theme song; I came up with a great arrangement.”

Shang Qinghua huffed in frustration. “What about the lyrics? ‘The flowers in the centre of my heart withered, time can never turn back’?”

Shen Yuan winced. “Yes, well I can see that they’re not uh… all the most upbeat lyrics. But overall the theme is kind of positive! Besides, I play other songs too; happier ones.”

“Happier songs like ‘Sadness and Sorrow’?”

“I love Naruto, that’s not a crime!” he snapped defensively. “Besides, it doesn’t even have any lyrics, it’s just an instrumental song! I didn’t name it!”

“Bro. Don’t forget your kids think you wrote all those songs yourself. They think you’re the xianxia equivalent of an emo teen dropping all his hobbies in favour of locking himself in his room to write broody sad poetry all day.” He tilted his head curiously. “Do you write broody poetry too, Cucumber?”

Shen Yuan flicked his fan closed sharply and put it down on the table. “Alright, you’ve made your point. I admit I’ve been working through some… feelings with my song choices. I will try and diversify more.”

Shang Qinghua slowly sipped his tea some more, watching him wordlessly over the lip of the cup.

“What,” Shen Yuan snapped, feeling the pressure of Airplane’s silent judgement.

Qinghua set down his cup quietly. “Diversifying your music isn’t really the point. The point is that you’re still so sad – mourning – and people are worried about you. The songs are an expression of that, not the cause. Changing what you play will make your students happier, sure, but what they really want is for you to feel better. We want you to feel better.”

It was a surprisingly mature and touching insight from Airplane, purveyor of low-quality smutty stallion novels for the masses. It was easy to forget, looking at his immortal, round-cheeked, youthful face, that this was a man on his second life who’d lived through decades more than Shen Yuan had. He was like 50 or 60 or something; he was old.

“I… I can’t,” he admitted quietly, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper. “When I think of him being gone, what I had to do, what he’s going through now, not to mention what is likely to happen when he comes back… I just don’t have the heart for happy tunes right now, Airplane. I’m doing my best just getting through each day.”

“It’s okay to feel sad, but you’re not uh… you’re not going to hurt yourself, are you?” his friend asked carefully, biting nervously at his lip.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not suicidal, no. Not without a mushroom body ready to go, anyway, and they’re still not done growing.”

“Oh! Good, I think that’s good. You’re sure? Anything I can do for you?”

He’s really stressed about this. I didn’t realise anyone was that worried that they’d stage an intervention! I mean I’m okay, but if I wasn’t, it’d be nice to know someone cared.

His heart felt a little warm at the thought, and his lips curved up in a small smile.

“Yes, don’t worry. I don’t want anyone to worry, so please reassure anyone who asks that I’m okay.”

Shang Qinghua moved the teapot and cups to one side, clearing a space in the middle of the low-set table. He started pulling dishes of food out of a qiankun pouch. “Speaking of not worrying people, Ning Yingying promised to help me with my paperwork for a week if I could get you to eat something, she’s fretting you’re getting too skinny. So, I brought a bunch of things to try and tempt you!”

The dishes Airplane laid out proudly on the table did look good; there was xiao long bao, hand pulled noodles with some kind of meat, snow pear stewed with red dates, and a bowl of peanuts in the shell.

But Shen Qingqiu’s heart sank a little at the pressure to eat. Looking at Airplane’s expectant face, he knew he wasn’t going to get away with vague promises that he’d eat something later.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I got you a few things! The pork soup dumplings and the peanuts are from town. The peanuts are for snacking on later – though you can eat them now if you like! They’re boiled with cinnamon and star anise, and they’re a favourite of mine, along with my beloved melon seeds. The aunties at that stall sell all kinds of seeds and nuts! The noodles and the snow pear dish are from my king’s palace kitchen.”

He was simultaneously touched by the thought that had gone into the offerings and irritated by the heavy-handed insistence he eat something.

They're all ganging up on me! Isn’t inedia enough to sustain an immortal master?

With a sigh and his best attempt at a thankful smile, he hid his resentment and served himself up some of the pork soup dumplings as one of the lighter offerings, and Qinghua copied him, either in a spirit of encouragement or perhaps just out of hunger.

It’s good, but it’s not as good as Binghe’s xiao long bao. He pushed it aside half-finished, his appetite waning fast. His little white lotus would never come back to cook for him again, he’d come back looking for revenge. He sat there for a while lost in thought about whether Binghe would spare the rest of the people in the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect if Shen Qingqiu went quietly to his doom, until a polite cough from his friend brought back his focus.

Glancing up he saw a worried look on Airplane’s face, and also noticed that a small dish of noodles had been placed in front of him while he’d been wool-gathering.

“The noodle dish is made with meat from the Crystal Glacier Yak, do you remember those?” Qinghua prompted.

“Oh! Yes, the ones where the male yaks spar when they’re in rut, and their crystal horns can shatter into razor-sharp shards?”

His monsters always were one of the cooler things about his writing.

“That’s them! I know they say all strange meat tastes like chicken, but not these! The meat tastes a lot like dry-aged beef.”

Tempted by the siren call of learning more lore about this occasionally amazing world, he had a little nibble. “This is so good! The noodles are a little tough, though.”

“Ah, well my king did his best! He made them himself, you know. I called in a favour.”

Aw! That was thoughtful.

“Please thank him for me – assuming he knows you gave them to me… it’s not a regifted meal is it?”

“Oh, he knows. I might’ve rambled worriedly for a while there,” Qinghua mumbled, rubbing embarrassedly at the back of his own neck. “He wanted to help. In an adorably gruff tsundere kind of way. He fusses over me now, it’s so sweet!”

Shen Qingqiu ignored the sappy look on his shidi’s face and concentrated on his food. He never wanted to hear about Mobei-Jun’s assets ever again and absolutely refused to encourage Airplane’s rambles. No. More. Dog food!

He finished the thankfully small bowl of noodles then tried a little of the comforting sweet dessert soup in a token effort to sample almost everything.

“I’ll save the nuts for later, alright?”

Airplane gave him a toothy smile and a thumbs up. “Sounds great, bro!”

He called in Ning Yingying to clear away their plates and pack up the leftovers, and she looked teary-eyed at seeing the used bowls in front of him. Shen Yuan grumpily caught her mouthing her silent thanks to Shang Qinghua.

I’ll eat a little more then, so that they don’t worry so much. Perhaps some soothing instrumental music in classes and at recitals? Nothing with a depressing name that will make my ducklings flap about in a panic about me. Admittedly I’ve been… a bit down of late. Depression is a bitch; it’s an ongoing battle. I can make an effort at least, so they fret less.

In the wake of Shang Qinghua’s visit his students were happier to see that while their Shizun was still inclined to mope too much at the sword mound for his lost disciple, he was eating better and playing fewer depressing songs.

“This one is called ‘Zelda’s Lullaby’,” he told his next music class, strumming out the soothing melody to the delight of his starry-eyed audience.

“Shizun composes so many beautiful tunes,” sighed one of his students dreamily. “He’s so creative!”

Shen Yuan smiled politely and tried not to feel like the utter fraud he was.

Chapter Text

Shen Qingqiu was brooding today, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it. Most days were fine now… fine enough. He taught classes, he left the peak and went on missions, and he dabbled in painting again. Heck, he’d even painted up a dakimakura with Mobei-Jun’s scantily clad figure on the pillowcase as a joke gift for Shang Qinghua, who’d laughingly insisted he’d sleep with his new body pillow every night he couldn’t sneak away to the North. Didn’t that show he was doing okay? Laughing and joking with a friend?

But some days… he had to admit that some days were tough, and depression clung to him like a sickly scent he just couldn’t wash off. When he’d woken up that morning, he’d sleepily called out for Binghe to get breakfast started, and the dead silence that answered him was like a knife twisting in his heart. He didn’t want to move; the grief was too much for him to bear. What he’d lost. What he’d never have again. His white lotus would come back eventually, perhaps in another two years’ time, but he wouldn’t be back to make him congee, he’d be a black lotus back for revenge. His pathetic apologies to Binghe at the edge of the chasm to the Endless Abyss – or any future apologies he might attempt – would never be enough to mitigate the horrendous acts of stabbing him (accidentally!) then pushing him into literal hell.

It was too quiet in the house, too silent and still and empty. As he couldn’t face putting a happy mask on that day, he assigned Ming Fan to organise a substitute teacher or two for the day. Determined that if he was going to be useless he may as well have a good wallow, he’d packed up his guzheng and a light table to set it up on and taken himself out to Binghe’s sword mound to sing his heart out, remembering times past.

     “Sunlight through the trees in summer
     Endless masquerading
     Like a flower, as the day is breaking
     The memory is fading!

     Touch me!
     It's so easy to leave me
     All alone with my memory
     Of my days in the sun…”

He cut himself off quickly when he glimpsed off in the distance a dark robed figure next to another in yellow, and a third in white and blue, all heading towards his location down the path through the bamboo.

Fuck. Did I miss a meeting? He whipped a handkerchief out of his sleeve and wiped his face dry. I’d better play something happier or Shang Qinghua will do another intervention.

By the time Yue Qingyuan, Liu Qingge, and Shang Qinghua reached the clearing, he was the picture of a serene master calmly playing a delicate instrumental piece.

Shang Qinghua recognised it as one of the songs from Harry Potter, but of course no-one else would. “Ah, a magical song that evokes an owl’s flight,” he observed, with a twinkle in his eye.

Shen Qingqiu nodded graciously, as he kept picking out the gentle melody. “Did this master miss a peak lord meeting this morning?”

Yue Qingyuan smiled placidly. “Yes, but it’s alright Shen-shidi, we settled business without you. However, as Shang Qinghua volunteered you for a dangerous mission, we thought it best to confirm your opinion on the matter. There is trouble in Jin Lan City, a plague of unknown cause that is possibly demonic in origin. The whole city has been shut down. Mu-shidi will naturally be attending, though not alone.”

“I’m going too. You can stay behind of course,” Liu Qingge offered, “but if you do go, I will accompany you to keep you safe and your meridians clear.”

“I thought you could use another mission away,” Shang Qinghua explained apologetically, “and you know your memory for details is the best of all of us.”

“Enough!” he replied, with a smile. “This master would be happy to assist, and while I do not feel a guard is necessary your company would be welcome, shidi.”

“Mn, good,” Liu Qingge said, looking satisfied.

Should worst come to worst and I be stricken with plague, the mushroom bodies are almost ripe. It will be fine.

-000-

It wasn’t fine. Binghe was back two years early!

When he’d seen him there in that plague-ridden brothel, surrounded by a swarm of Huan Hua Palace disciples he just… he hadn’t known what to say. When his System had started up again, he’d almost had a heart attack! He hadn’t planned for this. He’d rehearsed some options of what to say on reencountering Binghe a few times, but it wasn’t supposed to be so soon, or with them surrounded by so many people!

Panicked and confused, he’d focused on the business of investigating the sower demons and so had Binghe. Perhaps he too didn’t know what to say or do first; he’d smiled a lot but who knew what anger lay behind that beautiful mask?! Binghe’s face had blackened into a scowl when he’d looked at Gongyi Xiao, so there was certainly a streak of danger hidden behind the pleasantries. No sign of a wife as yet – it was early – Binghe had been oddly quick to assure him that there wasn’t a reason like that for staying with Huanhua Palace. He’d promised to talk to him later, a foreboding message that sent chills down his spine.

He'd earnt a couple of hundred points from his reawakened System but did not give a shit. Points were meaningless to him now.

A flare up of Without a Cure had him confined to his temporary bedroom on the second floor of the weapons shop while Liu Qingge got to go demon hunting. It would have been rudimentary accommodation if not for the impressive capacity of the quality qiankun pouches he’d brought with him! He’d retrieved fluffy pillows and a warm blanket for his bed, a couple of books to read, and his favourite guqin for entertainment.

He took some medicating tea for the pain from Without a Cure flaring up (it’d gotten worse the past few years) and got on with his evening, refusing to let his disability stop him from doing anything. While waiting for the eventual return of Liu-shidi to clear his meridians – and hopefully to help him brainstorm about how to approach Luo Binghe – he set his guqin up on the small table in the room and sat down to play an old classic favourite of his, ‘Creep’. He played the opening notes then sang the melancholy melody clear and pure. With his guqin he plucked out the backing harmony; a haunting ostinato of broken minor chords going up and down.

Seeing Binghe like that, so sweet and strong and all grown up, it had been overwhelming.

     “When you were here before, couldn't look you in the eye
     You're just like an angel, your skin makes me cry
     You float like a feather in a beautiful world”

Such a wonderful young man he’d turned out to be. And for all the current horror of a plague, it was still such a beautiful world, for all the shit he gave Shang Qinghua about some of the more moronic plants. He loved it. He loved Binghe too, he always had. Just originally in a parasocial kind of way! He was his favourite character after all! It was natural to love the handsome, accomplished protagonist. He’d missed him so. He just wished he didn’t have to play the villain to Binghe’s hero.

Was that a noise outside?

“Hello?”

As there was no response, he sighed and returned to his performance for himself, wrapping up the first verse and hitting the chorus. Liu Qingge would just come in anyway when he got here. Knocking and waiting was for lesser men. Men with manners.

     “I wish I was special, you're so very special
     But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo
     What the hell am I doing here?
     I don't belong here”

This was his world, not Shen Yuan’s. He didn’t belong here. He never had. He was a nobody shut-in loser turned into a creepy villain.

     “I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul”

It wasn’t his body – not really, it never 100% felt like it was – and he’d ruined both it and the golden core and meridians Shen Jiu had worked so fiercely to attain, fighting tooth and claw for every scrap of advancement. He’d thrown all that achievement away to protect Luo Binghe from a poison he was immune to.

He cried a little as he sang, but it suited the song, so he didn’t let his choked-up voice stop him from singing his heart out.

     “I want you to notice when I’m not around”

Had Binghe missed him at all? He hadn’t really acted like it, so suave and calm. He’d mourned the loss of his white lotus every day of the past three years, but Binghe had settled in at Huan Hua without a second thought about his old teacher he’d left behind. His teacher who’d betrayed him. Could he blame Binghe for starting over, in the face of that treachery?

After another round of the chorus he hit the bridge, adjusting the lyrics slightly for himself as a male singer. He sang it loud and pained and clear like he felt it deep in his gut – a frantic desperation to flee.

     “He's runnin' out the door
     He's runnin' out
     He run, run, run, run, RUN!”

He could try. He’d probably fail. Binghe had already threatened to find him, and the protagonist always got what he wanted, right?

He wrapped up more softly with the outro, his watery eyes downcast as he played the last scrap of yearning, heartbroken verse that came before the final repetition of the chorus. His voice came out cracked and broken but it fit the lyrics so that was alright.

     “Whatever makes you happy, whatever you want
     You're so fuckin' special, I wish I was special”

What Binghe wanted was the most important thing in the world, after all. The System had a whole mechanic just to track how happy he was. The world literally revolved around him.

The question was, what did he want from Shen Qingqiu? Grovelling? Torture? Death? He didn’t want to live for years in a pickle pot!

His hands came to a gentle stop on the strings.

In the quiet, he heard a soft choked noise from the doorway, and he looked up in startlement to see Luo Binghe standing there, tears running down his face.

“Shizun…”

For a split second, Shen Yuan thought again about running for it… but he knew it wouldn’t work. By the time he’d pushed his chair out and run for the window (since the door was blocked by Binghe) the protagonist would have all the time in the world to catch him. But more importantly… Binghe was crying. He couldn’t possibly leave him in such a state!

“Binghe? What’s wrong? Are you alright?” he asked gently, dabbing his face dry as he stood up, walking cautiously over to his former disciple. He held out his damp handkerchief in an outstretched hand out of sheer habit.

Binghe, perhaps used to the same comforting routine, took the hanky from him and tried to wipe his own eyes dry, but the tears just kept coming. He sobbed as he clung onto the hanky with a tight-fisted grip, burying his face in it. Far from looking like a threatening demon lord, right now he looked very much like the watering pot white lotus who sometimes used to cry over silly things like his Shizun not coming home on time for dinner.

Slowly, he reached out to Binghe and took him by one unresisting limp arm, pulling him in for a hug. “It’s alright. Shizun is here. Tell this master what is wrong.”

“Shizun!” Binghe collapsed against him, and Shen Qingqiu had to brace against the sudden substantial weight of his bulked-up disciple clinging to him.

“Is it… is it one of the Huan Hua Palace girls?” he asked cautiously. “Did Binghe lose… did someone die?” He spiralled into worried speculation. This plague wasn’t in canon… had Binghe lost a potential future wife? He tried to remember which of them might have come along to Jin Lan City but couldn’t remember. When he’d seen the Huan Hua disciples together with Binghe they’d been a bit of a blur; Binghe was all he’d focused on.

“No, Shizun! Everyone’s fine. It’s just… your song, it was so heartbreaking!” Binghe blubbed. “Shizun wrote a gift song for me!”

Oh good, no-one’s dead. Wait, what?

“Binghe? It wasn’t… it was a song about me,” he explained. “I mean, Binghe was in my mind for a part of it, I supposed. Binghe was the beautiful angel it was hard to look at.”

“No, this one is the freak who doesn’t belong!” Binghe insisted. His fingers were like tight claws digging into his back, possibly literally. Clingy bun x 100!

Oh.

“It was about me, Binghe,” he repeated. “I’m the fraud who shouldn’t be a peak lord. Binghe… Binghe did nothing wrong. Binghe is the special one who should be happy.”

[Warning! Host should–]

Fuck. Off! he thought poisonously. I’m not breaking your fucking rules!

“Shizun is the special one! This one ran away to Huan Hua Palace, too scared to face you! But I was going to come back – I only stayed away because you told me to in your letter, Shizun!”

Shen Qingqiu’s hand stopped the unconscious stroking of Binghe’s hair he hadn’t even realised he was doing.

“I never wrote to you, Binghe. I didn’t even know you were out of the Abyss until I saw you here in Jin Lan City.”

“But your letter…” Binghe said, raising his pretty tear-streaked face to gaze into his Shizun’s bemused eyes from far too close. He looked so confused. “You said I should find somewhere else to stay.”

Either this was some epic messy amnesia bullshit – and if so Shang Qinghua was going to think Mobei-Jun’s cutesy domestic violence bullshit felt like a fucking feather to the beating he was going to give him – or someone out there was meddling.

“I never sent any letter. How could I when I didn’t know you were out of the Abyss?” he repeated, hoping the sincerity on his face would come across clearly from so close. “If Binghe isn’t here to wreak bloody vengeance on this master for pushing him into–”

“No! I just wanted to understand why Shizun keeps trying to get rid of me! And to show you I can control my demon side!” Binghe insisted, his hands moving to hold him by the waist. “I can, Shizun! I promise I’m not a danger to you!”

“Really?” he checked, with an edge of hope.

Binghe’s eyes welled up with tears again. “I’m not a freak, Shizun! I mean, I know I am one, but I’m trying so hard to belong! I won’t hurt you!”

Shen Qingqiu sighed and pulled away from Binghe’s desperate clutching, and Binghe let him, his hands trailing along his Shizun’s waist as he moved back to the table. His eyes overflowed with tears as he let out soft choking noises.

“Tch. Silly disciple,” Shen Qingqiu said, and the obvious chiding affection in his voice had Binghe’s panicked cries stuttering. “I’m not getting rid of you, and I repeat, my song was about myself. Come sit down and we’ll talk and have some tea, maybe.”

Binghe wiped his face again with the borrowed hanky, which he then tucked away into his own sleeve. “I suppose you were ‘killing me softly’ with your song, then, if it was really supposed to be about yourself, Shizun. Does Shizun feel like he’s not… not worthy to be a peak lord because of… his background?” he asked delicately, taking a seat opposite him at the small table. His large puppy-like feet that he’d finally grown into – so strong and tall! – brushed against his own as he sat down. Binghe looked so much calmer already!

Is it possible we can… just fix this? he hoped, with dawning optimism. Did I change enough already?

“What does Binghe know about… my past?” he checked warily. “This one doesn’t recall how much Binghe ever learnt. Binghe should understand he should be careful what he says…”

He nodded furiously. “Yes, Shizun! This disciple understands why you don’t always feel like an immortal master. Shizun was… a slave, back in his youth. Mistreated and left behind – abandoned – when the sect leader came to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. This one does not think less of Shizun for that! Your disciple admires Shizun’s fortitude and determination for overcoming the challenges of his background, to become the second highest peak lord and the most renowned and accomplished scholar in all the land! An amazing swordsman and a master of the Four Arts.”

“I wouldn’t say master–” he mumbled bashfully.

“And this one has never betrayed what he learnt of Shizun’s background to anyone,” Binghe promised, “not even Ning Yingying. Not even when foolish Bai Zhan brutes sneered at how Shizun is a spoiled young master who got everything handed to him on a silver platter and didn’t deserve… anything good.”

Binghe finished with a scowl and a bit of an evasion (though he didn’t grasp what about) but otherwise seemed very much in earnest. A little disappointingly, he didn’t seem to have figured out anything about his transmigration, but it was all for the best anyway, since he probably wouldn’t survive his System’s disapproval if the real truth came out.

“That’s everything?”

And how does he know all that? It’s not common knowledge!

“Unless you were thinking about your amnesia after your qi deviation?” Binghe added hesitantly. “Shizun struggles at times. Perhaps he feels a little… weird about that too. But Shizun is a better teacher than he ever used to be before, and no less skilled! He is… he is very loved.”

Binghe looked bashful at that, the sweet semi-blackened lotus!

My little bun isn’t altogether gone, just a little toasty!

“I’m not that special… but I do my humble best,” he said, pleased by the praise. He gave Binghe a small smile, which was returned a hundred-fold by Binghe’s gigantic beaming grin.

“I do feel like a fraud, a lot of the time. But I think I’ve regained my skills pretty well now to be”–convincingly like Shen Jiu–“a good peak lord.”

Binghe had a coy, teasing look on his face as he asked, “So, if the song was Shizun’s own song, and Binghe was the other person in it, does Shizun really hope that Binghe thinks about him constantly, and wants his precious, special disciple to be happy above all things?”

“Ai! Where’s my tea, huh? Binghe is not fulfilling his duties as my disciple!” he blustered, deeply embarrassed. He didn’t mean it like how Binghe was teasing! He whipped out a fan to hide his reddened face.

“Forgiveness, Shizun, this one doesn’t carry around a teapot full of hot water at all times,” Binghe replied, with a laugh. “I do have some snacks for emergencies in a qiankun pouch, however.”

Shen Qingqiu lit up happily as Binghe gently pushed the guzheng to one side of the table to make room for the bag of moon cakes he proudly fished out of a belt pouch. This evening was turning out so much better than he’d expected. He took a bite of one and moaned happily at the taste of the sweet lotus paste inside it. Delicious, as expected of Binghe’s sublime cooking!

“At the rift, Shizun,” Binghe asked, “I have to know… you said I was a demon and had to go. Was it because you worried others would attack this one?”

That’s the best excuse I had; I made it ambiguous at the time but hoped I might convince you of something like that later, if I ever got the opportunity to plead for mercy.

“Yes. It was not safe for Binghe. I know the Endless Abyss would not be safe either, but I was confident Binghe would survive there and only grow stronger. Many demon elders cast their young heirs into dangerous situations to coax their powers into full bloom.”

Binghe nodded, relief clear on his face. “I did think so! I wasn’t sure, but I hoped, oh how I hoped! But… when I got out, I arrived near Huan Hua Palace, terribly wounded. They took me in, and said that… The Old Palace Master said I shouldn’t go back. That you’d written confidentially to him and many other sect leaders, warning that I was dangerous, and should I survive to escape the Endless Abyss no-one should take me in. I sent you a letter anyway, and he said you only replied to him warning him to have nothing to do with you.”

Why would he do that?

“Why did Binghe believe him? I sent no such letters to him or anyone.”

“You’d told me I should go, Shizun! At the Abyss, you told me! And… and you stabbed me, and… and pushed me into hell!” Binghe said, and in his anger the red zuiyin on his forehead lit up with an eerie blood-red glow that pulsed ominously.

Shen Qingqiu flinched back.

“No, Shizun don’t… Shizun, I’m sorry!” Binghe pleaded, the light dying away as he hid his mark of sin with his cultivation once more. He also slapped his hand over his own forehead as if out of sight would be out of mind.

“It’s alright, you are… right to be angry with me,” he murmured apologetically. “It’s not much, it can never be enough but… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Binghe.”

Binghe started crying again, but he was still smiling this time while he did so. He wiped his tears away with his own sleeve, this time.

“It’s enough, Shizun. And knowing that you didn’t write warning others I was a half-demon, that helps… you don’t know how much! The Old Palace Master said no other sect leader would accept one of mixed blood in their sect but him.”

Shen Yuan snorted. “That man is scum. I said no such thing and Binghe is… is welcome to return to Qing Jing Peak, if he wishes to.” He stuffed his face with a third moon cake, since Binghe wasn’t eating them. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten so well!

“I do, Shizun!” Binghe said loudly, almost shouting. “I hoped I might prove myself safe through staying at Huan Hua until Shizun had word of my righteous behaviour, but if Shizun already is willing to trust this one…?”

Shen Yuan hesitated. “I do, but… Xin Mo…”

Luo Binghe gave him a serious look. “You know I have it? Of course you would guess, Shizun! You’re the one who taught me its legend. Yes, it is a struggle to manage the heart demons it inflames. But I can set it aside for you. I won’t need it on Qing Jing Peak.”

He wondered what would become of Binghe’s empire in the demon realm if he did give up his golden finger! Maybe Shang Qinghua could find out the latest gossip about all that from Mobei-Jun? “You don’t need it to travel to… anywhere? Anyone?”

“Not if this disciple is welcomed home, Shizun.”

He nodded. “Well, we can talk more about the sword later. Zheng Yang is awaiting you back home; I had it reforged for you. We have sower demons to deal with tomorrow, and Binghe must be getting as worn out as this master is. It’s very late.”

Binghe’s face grew worryingly dark at that, but his next words explained why. “Or perhaps Shizun is especially tired because he was infected.”

Shen Qingqiu pushed his sleeve down to belatedly and futilely try to hide the infection on the back of his hand. “Ah, this is just an old rash.”

“No, it’s not, Shizun. This disciple can heal you,” he said, reaching out for his hand.

Shen Qingqiu drew his hand away from his reaching grasp, picking his Pikachu fan back up as part of his evasive movement, and fanning himself with anxious flutters.

“Only if there is no other cure. Mu Qingfang is working hard, this one is confident his shidi will have something concocted soon.”

Luo Binghe tilted his head curiously. “How does Shizun believe so swiftly that this one can cure him?”

“This one researched heavenly demons, of course,” he bluffed. “There are few now, I would wager, who know as much of the potential of your blood as this master does.”

“Does Shizun know if this disciple could cure Without a Cure for him?” Binghe asked eagerly.

Shen Qingqiu blushed red. “Out! It is late! Binghe certainly cannot help me with that!”

“Hmm.”

Binghe didn’t look totally convinced, but he went along with his Shizun hustling him out of his bedroom. “This disciple of yours will see you tomorrow, Shizun,” he promised. “And return home with you, yes?”

He looked confident enough, tall and strong, the very picture of a fierce young black lotus all clad in imposing red and black robes. But his voice pleaded uncertainly for reassurance as he stood in the doorway once more.

“Yes, Binghe. You can come home, I promise,” he said, reaching up to pat that fluffy overgrown little sheep’s head. “This master has kept your room ready for you, all this time.”

“Shizun!” he sniffled.

“Don’t cry again!” he ordered, and gave him a quick squashy hug before releasing him. “Off you go now, let this master sleep.”

“Yes, Shizun,” he said, abashed.

He left with a determined smile on his face – despite the tears sparkling unshed in his eyes – and Shen Qingqiu could finally relax. He slumped against the closed door with a relieved sigh.

My white lotus lives. I’m going to live. What do you think of that, System?! Fuck your planned story! Proud Immortal Demon Way was a trashfire anyway. I’m making it better.

[This System is satisfied with the changes; the dramatic tearful reunion was acceptable and didn’t reference Host’s transmigration or mention this System. +2000 protagonist satisfaction points.]

I wanna spend them on something! he demanded, flopping down onto his bed and his fluffy pillows. What have you got on offer?

[Would Host like to buy a Small Scenario Pusher Luxury Edition to ensure he is cured from Without a Cure? ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ ]

He spluttered at the thought of what that would inevitably involve, his face heating up at the thought. System is so mean!

[This System is only trying to help progress the narrative!]

‘Progress the narrative’ my literal arse! I’m not talking to you, Temu Siri!

[ (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ ) Host is so mean!]

-000-

The next morning at dawn Shen Yuan was delighted to discover that Mu Qingfang had concocted a cure for the plague, though he was less delighted by the epic scolding he received from his shidi for hiding his infection.

“You cannot afford to be so cavalier with your health, shixiong!” he chided, as a final summary after the detailed recitation of his health problems and lecture on why proper treatment was essential.

“I know, I know,” he groaned.

“You took your medicine for Without a Cure last night?”

“Yes, shidi. I even ate something!” he volunteered, heading off the next typical question.

He got no credit for that, though, as Mu Qingfang just nodded as if it was to be expected (even though it honestly shouldn’t be). Where is my praise, ah?!

“Promise me you won’t hide future illnesses from me. Or curses. Or pollen contamination, or monster bites…”

He waved off the rest of the overly specific list. “Yes, yes, I will keep you better informed of any and all health concerns.”

With the sower demons all captured overnight, and Mu Qingfang distributing medicinal cures throughout the night and all morning – little though he’d known it – it wasn’t long before the gates of the city were opened up and the leaders of a few of the sects were all entering to claim their share of glory in assisting, whether warranted or not.

The leaders of Tian Yi Temple and Zhao Hua Monastery were both there, and the Old Palace Master was walking side by side with Yue Qingyuan. And Luo Binghe was there with them, striding along right next to Yue Qingyuan on his other side.

Binghe’s expression was as bright and cheerful as the morning sunlight, and Yue Qingyuan, he could tell from experience, had a hint of determination leaking through his placid mask. The Old Master Palace on the other hand was practically gritting his teeth; his smile was a rictus of bared teeth that was more like a snarl than an actual grin. He was clearly not happy, and his dark looks at Yue Qingyuan suggested he blamed their sect leader for everything.

Jin Lan City’s governor kowtowed to Binghe, who’d won fame overnight by catching four sower demons to Liu Qingge’s two. Yue Qingyuan got to claim credit (with a façade of humility) for Cang Qiong Mountain Sect single-handedly saving the city, between their two demon hunters and Mu Qingfang’s rapidly distributed cure. He had a protective and approving hand on Binghe’s shoulder, a proprietary show of their sect’s claim on him as their disciple.

Meanwhile the Old Palace Master got to fume impotently at Luo Binghe’s sudden desertion of his sect, and the loss of respect and face they would have gained by leeching off his hard work.

“As expected, a hero’s nature is evident even in youth, and famed masters raise outstanding disciples!” the governor gushed.

“Huan Hua Palace has been pleased to host Luo Binghe since he had… problems with his former sect that caused him to leave it,” the Old Palace Master said, interjecting himself into the conversation with a sly insinuation.

“This disciple was honoured to visit and learned much of the world during his stay but is overjoyed to finally be returning to his home, and his place as a disciple of Qing Jing Peak,” Binghe proclaimed loudly. “Everything this disciple has accomplished is, as the governor so wisely observed, because I had the most famed teacher in my Shizun, Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu.”

What could he do but bow politely? And hide his embarrassed smile behind his fan, of course.

There was a dramatic scene a short while later, when the sower demons threw out wild accusations that Shen Qingqiu had sicced them on the city. However, with Cang Qiong the leaders in catching them and wiping out their kin, and himself given the credit for the effort – albeit secondhand – thanks to the combined efforts of Luo Binghe’s boasts and Yue Qingyuan’s polite demurrals, their ravings were dismissed by almost everyone as being malicious lies. A conclusion the Old Palace Master clearly didn’t share, the suspicious old bastard.

“It is a point worth considering,” the old relic suggested.

“Such an amazing plan it would be,” Luo Binghe argued, “or such disloyal minions, that left the orchestrator himself infected with the plague.”

“I treated my shixiong for it just this morning,” Mu Qingfang added. “Or are you accusing this healer – the Peak Lord of Qian Cao Peak – of lying as well?”

“Surely the Palace Master is not so gullible as to believe every rumour a demon concocts?” Luo Binghe said, with an infectious laugh that many in the surrounding crowd picked up and echoed.

The Old Palace Master laughed too, a forced chuckle. “Well, you cannot blame me for being cautious! All accusations should be considered, even those from prisoners… or demons. Huan Hua Palace is known for its scrupulous fairness to everyone, after all.”

And here I thought it was best known for being the sect you could most easily buy your way into, and its horrific Water Prison!

“We would never want unwarranted rumours to spread, and seek only the truth at all times,” the Old Palace Master said, staring at Luo Binghe with an unblinking gaze and a paternal smile.

Binghe smiled back at him brightly. “Of course!”

Qi Qingqi muffled a snicker, exchanging an amused glance with Shen Qingqiu, who returned it from behind the shelter of his fan, seen sidelong by his shimei but not the watching crowd.

“Those demons clearly only sought vengeance on our sect, and on my shixiong who proposed their execution by fire,” Qi Qingqi said haughtily. “Any other conclusion is patently ridiculous.”

“So be it,” the Old Palace Master conceded, through gritted teeth. “Far be it for me to stand in the way of demons getting the punishment they so rightfully deserve, at the hands of the righteous Cang Qiong Mountain Sect.”

He turned to Luo Binghe after that, extending a welcoming hand out to him. “My boy, will you be returning to your position within our sect? This old master thought you were safe and happy with us.”

Nasty poacher, Shen Qingqiu thought, catching Binghe’s gaze. Binghe was looking unflappable, like the conversation wasn’t disturbing him in the slightest. Hah! Shen Qingqiu thought Binghe would probably be crying or clinging if they were in private, but out in public Binghe’s protagonist aura shone strong and clear, and he always kept his composure much better.

Yue Qingyuan smiled, another of his deceptively placid looks he liked to wear whenever engaging in ruthless politics. He gave Binghe’s shoulder a light squeeze. “Luo Binghe, please go and rejoin your master.”

“Of course, Zhangmen-shibo,” he said dutifully. With a bow to the sect leader, he scurried obediently to stand at Shen Qingqiu’s right-hand side, ignoring the disgruntled muttering from his temporary sect siblings.

“About time,” Liu Qingge harrumphed, crossing his arms. “I don’t know where you’ve been, but shame on you for taking so long to return.”

Luo Binghe bowed again as he reached his teacher. “Shizun, I am pleased to have returned after having recovered fully from my injuries. Huan Hua Palace looked after me well, and I have been pronounced once again safe to travel, as the expedition here proved. I feel I have repaid my many debts for their kindness in hosting and caring for me, and I look forward to coming home.”

Shen Qingqiu smiled fondly at him and rested a hand gently atop his fluffy head of curls. “I’m so glad.”

The Old Palace Master’s friendly façade turned venomous. “I’d surprised you were willing to return to them, considering that the truth is at the Immortal Alliance Conference your despicable master in fact… in tact trew… conshidering vat yu yurself are a de–”

Something was clearly going very wrong, as the Old Palace Master’s speech slurred, and he began swaying dizzily where he stood, his eyes looking glazed.

“Palace Master!” his disciples cried. Gongyi Xiao was one of the first to his side, helping to lower him to sit on the ground, as the old man clutched at his chest, gasping for breath.

“He needs a healer!” Gongyi Xiao cried.

Mu Qingfang was quick to respond, rushing over to take the Old Palace Master’s wrist for a quick assessment, and getting out his silver acupuncture needles.

Shen Qingqiu noticed Binghe staring at the scene with narrowed eyes and saw a look of wicked satisfaction cross his disciple’s face for a moment.

“Binghe?” he murmured, in the softest whisper possible, the movements of his mouth hidden by his fan. “Is that your work?”

Binghe flinched guiltily. “He was going to say things about me, and even worse, he’s making trouble for Shizun. There’s a few plots going on–”

Tch. Black-bellied protagonist!

“That’s no reason to–”

“–And I didn’t like how he looked at me, when I stayed there at their palace. He said… I reminded him a lot of his old head disciple, Su Xiyan,” Binghe continued, with a hangdog, ashamed expression. “I didn’t like how… how he touched me, Shizun.”

Binghe kept watching the Old Palace Master writhe on the ground, but his eyes were glistening now with unshed tears.

“…Make it hurt,” Shen Qingqiu hissed, behind the cover of his fan. He didn’t need to know the details. He could guess enough, based on what he knew from Airplane about the man’s unhealthy obsession with Binghe’s mother. The world would definitely be better off without him.

“Shizun,” Binghe murmured, starry-eyed.

[+50 B-Points for in-character actions! +50 protagonist satisfaction points!]

Yes, System! Make it rain! And I’m going to spend almost all my points, so start thinking up something nice I can buy. No point in saving them. And don’t suggest a scenario pusher again!

“Oh dear, I hope Mu Qingfang can help him!” he said out loud, in a public show of concern.

Oddly enough, Mu-shidi was unable to save the Old Palace Master, who died in pain clutching at his head, writhing on the filthy ground.

“A stroke, I believe,” Mu Qingfang announced to the worried crowd, letting the old man’s wrist go, laying it down on his unmoving chest. “A congestion of blood and qi in the brain. It is sadly common in the elderly. Combined with some heart trouble as well, I believe. I am sorry for the loss to Huan Ha Palace.”

[+500 B-Points for increase of Luo Binghe’s coolness level.]

“Come on, Shizun, let’s get out of here,” Binghe said, tugging on his arm. “We don’t want to seem rude, standing around gawking while others are mourning. Can we go straight home?”

“Quite right,” he agreed loudly. “Zhangmen-shixiong, if you don’t mind?”

Yue Qingyuan, distracted by the drama of the Old Palace Master’s death, waved them off. “Of course, shidi. Go home and rest. Mu Qingfang, send him with an extra… no, give it to Luo Binghe. Shizhi, look after your Shizun and ensure he takes his dose of medicine each morning for the next–” He paused and looked at their healer.

“Three days,” Mu Qingfang interjected, handing over a small handful of wrapped bundles to Binghe, like Shen Qingqiu couldn’t be trusted with his own medicines! “The larger ones are his usual decoction for night-time.”

“–Three days, with a full breakfast,” Yue Qingyuan finished, looking distractedly off at the crowd again with an odd expression.

Isn’t he going to fuss more about me being infected? Ah, I guess Mu Qingfang must have already told him and he got it out of his system in private.

“Off you go now,” the sect leader ordered brusquely. “I’ll handle the rest of the sect’s business here. You two hurry home; flying will be fastest.” He headed off into the seething crowd of people gathering around the Old Palace Master, loudly reassuring people that there was no evidence in the slightest that demons were involved in the man’s death, and that this was natural causes and not a new plague.

Luo Binghe passed his sword – a loaner from Huan Hua Palace – to Qin Wanyue, who looked teary and disgruntled at his abrupt departure.

“This disciple must trouble Shizun for a lift,” he said, hopping on Xiu Ya and holding tight to his Shizun’s waist.

For some reason as they flew off, Liu Qingge spontaneously decided to escort them all the way home, despite his own pleas that a babysitter was entirely unnecessary.

“I was returning home anyway,” he insisted.

Chapter Text

Safely back on Qing Jing Peak, he led Binghe into the Bamboo House where his disciple looked around curiously. Binghe ran a finger across a bookshelf and sniffed disparagingly at the grey dust that accumulated on his fingertip.

“I imagine the kitchens are even worse, Shizun,” he tutted.

“Almost certainly,” he agreed. “They haven’t seen a lot of use in the past three years. But come, sit.”

Binghe, however, insisted on making tea while Shen Qingqiu sat and relaxed. Hearing the burble of complaints from the kitchen about the state of the pots and the almost complete lack of ingredients soothed something in his heart. The Bamboo House wasn’t achingly quiet any longer.

When Binghe emerged with a tea tray with his best tea and an apologetic offering of boiled peanuts and roasted sunflower seeds to snack on, he was met by his Shizun’s soft smile, so his own anxious smile melted into a more genuine, relieved grin.

“Shizun, I’m so happy to be home!”

[+10 protagonist satisfaction points!]

I don’t care anymore. Talk to me again when you have something new to offer me to spend them on.

His System stayed grouchily unresponsive.

“While in general I approve of your plan to safely dispose of Xin Mo,” Shen Qingqiu said, “first I think you should consider if there’s unfinished business that you need to wrap up, Binghe. Xin Mo is a powerful tool for both battles and travel. Is there… anyone or anything Binghe has left behind? Any tasks left incomplete or… friends left alone?”

Binghe hesitated. “While this one always carries his belongings on him in a qiankun pouch – not trusting the privacy at Huan Hua Palace – this l- disciple did have business still in the Northern Desert. I have typically been travelling there once a week when I am unobserved.”

He nodded and took a sip of his perfectly brewed tea. That made sense, perhaps he was he ruling in absentia with an occasional check-in.

“My most precious things I always keep on my own body, Shizun,” he explained, pulling out a thick, worn leather cord from which hung his two jade pendants, one each from Binghe’s mother and from himself. “To remind me that mercy and forgiveness are what we need most especially when things are at their worst, and to always keep striving for a better life in the face of near-unendurable hardships.”

“I’m glad, Binghe,” he said, with a soft smile at the touching speech.

“Now, I think once a week should be manageable, for as long as you need to settle matters to your satisfaction, whatever that looks like. Perhaps leaving and returning via your bedroom would be safest, in case of unexpected visitors to the Bamboo House. But Binghe, you must be sure to come to me if you start feeling emotionally upset, or at risk of a qi deviation. Basically, any time you worry that Xin Mo might be inflaming your heart demons, I want you to check in and see if I can help.”

As Binghe’s eyes widened, he suddenly realised that perhaps that offer of assistance might possibly be taken the wrong way. “I meant for advice or support, of course,” he added hastily. “If Xin Mo is ah, desperately hungry and you need to… fuel it by absorbing jing energy. Then of course you should ah… well if meditation doesn’t help perhaps you could go hunting to slake its blood lust? Unless of course there’s a willing young lady that–”

Binghe was quick to interrupt, and Shen Qingqiu didn’t mind being cut off in the slightest. “No, Shizun. I’m not interested in women like that. Hunting or a battle will suffice, if I must.”

“Mn.” Shen Qingqiu, his face aflame, avoided eye contact and concentrated on his tea and on shelling a few spiced peanuts. He wondered if there would even be a harem. Given his current disinterest in assembling an entourage of women, maybe Binghe would choose only a single wife, or perhaps a few select ones. Binghe was – thankfully – not as much like his canonical counterpart as he’d fearfully expected. What else might change?

“Shizun? I heard a rumour A-Bing was alive and had come back? Is it true or is someone playing a cruel prank on you?” Ning Yingying called out, tapping on the door before peeking inside. “Binghe! You’re alive!”

She strode quickly across the room and pounced on Binghe, dragging him to his feet and into a hug. He looked pleased but uncomfortable at her tearily wrapping her arms around him.

Shen Yuan let out a little chuckle as Ning Yingying switched from being delighted to tearily angry.

“Where have you been?” She held Binghe by the shoulders and gave him a little cross shake, before hugging him again. “I thought you were dead, and Shizun did too – he kept writing sad songs and pined for you and wouldn’t eat! We all missed you so much! Where were you! What happened? Why didn’t you write to us or come back?!”

Pulling out of the hug she pushed him away, making him stumble. She stomped her foot. “I can’t believe it! It is you, right? Why did you let us all think you’d died at the conference if you’d actually survived?!”

“Shizun pined for me?” Binghe asked, wide-eyed.

Ning Yingying’s cheeks puffed up in irritation. “Shizun! Shizun! Shizun! What about me, ah? I mourned for you too, A-Bing! Where’s my ‘It’s so good to see you again, shijie’?! I missed you too! Say it with me: ‘Please forgive me, shijie for abandoning our sect and letting you think I was dead!’”

Cross things must be said three times! he thought amusedly, snacking on peanuts as he watched the show.

“Shijie, I’m sorry,” Binghe whined. “Please forgive me for abandoning our sect…”

“You two should catch up,” Shen Qingqiu said politely, draining his teacup and pushing himself to his feet. “I will go talk to some of the Hall Masters and return in a shichen or so.”

If that young woman calls me a ‘grieving widow’ to Binghe I will make her run laps! Best to flee all the embarrassment – both mine and Binghe’s – and let the two lovebirds reconcile in private.

-000-

A few days later there was a soft tapping at his bedroom door in the middle of the night. “This disciple had a bad dream,” Binghe said, tears glimmering in his limpid eyes.

“Bwah?” he queried, brain muzzy with sleep.

No, that can’t be right? Didn’t he learn how to manage his nightmares from Meng Mo?

He shook his head. He had to remember this wasn’t the Luo Binghe from Proud Immortal Demon Way! He wasn’t back for vengeance, and his path was different! He was his own person!

Maybe he’d never taken Meng Mo as a teacher, or maybe they’d argued and he’d cast the parasite out. Maybe dream manipulation was a skill he’d been too distracted and busy to learn to a high level, with a proper full load of classes on Qing Jing Peak, instead of Shen Jiu’s hateful, grudging offerings in the original PIDW.

“Binghe has nightmares?” he checked sleepily.

“Yes, Shizun. I didn’t want to bother you, I know it’s an hour before dawn. But you said to let you know if my heart demons were bothering me, and I was dreaming of the Endless Abyss. I was so alone and scared down there,” he said, his voice small and sad. “I could… use a hug, Shizun.”

Shen Qingqiu sat up in bed, drawing back the bedcurtains and shuffling back a little so his back was against the headboard. He held out his arms encouragingly as he ordered, “Come here, Binghe.”

Binghe crawled into his bed, not truly a little bun anymore but still a needy white lotus in his heart, perhaps.

“Shizun,” he murmured softly, in his deep masculine voice. “Thank you.” He sat at the edge of the bed and leant in close, resting his tired head on Shen Qingqiu’s chest.

[+10 protagonist satisfaction points!]

Shut up! Mute while we’re talking, you Google Translate reject!

[… ( 〃．．) ]

“Do you want to talk about it?” Shen Yuan asked, stroking the back of his head softly.

Binghe’s long wavy hair was still in the braid he’d done before they went to bed; an old habit Binghe had been keen to reinstitute on his return, despite being theoretically too old for such pampering. He’d insisted sadly he ‘just wanted things to go back to normal’, and Shen Qingqiu had caved instantly at his heartrending plea.

Would it be wrong to be a little curious to hear about the monsters he fought? “Were you remembering a monster fight down there that went badly or… or was it me? What I did?”

Binghe shook his head, which felt a little odd with his head cradled so close to Shen Qingqiu’s heart. His disciple’s face kind of nuzzled and rubbed against his chest, accidentally brushing against bare skin for a moment when his thin sleeping robes were pushed aside. “Not you, Shizun. It was about one of the worst battles I went through. I… it disembowelled me. I recovered of course, my self-regeneration is impressive now, but… it was bad.”

Binghe’s arms tentatively crept around Shen Qingqiu’s waist, and he let out a little content sigh as his Shizun didn’t react and just kept stroking his hair.

Poor thing! He’s still so afraid of rejection. It’s good he’s open enough to ask for the comfort he needs right now. We’re doing so well at healthy, open communication!

“It was a Bone-Footed Stork, I think. I was just trying to get some water, and I thought the birds weren’t a threat. I hadn’t seen their feet at first – they were wading in the shallows.”

“You can tell me all about it, if you like,” Shen Qingqiu encouraged, and Binghe was more than happy to take him up on his offer. He cuddled his sad disciple and listened with carefully restrained enthusiasm to the dramatic tales of his suffering until the sun rose.

-000-

After a full week had gone by Binghe had reconnected with old friends (and rivals like Ming Fan) and been berated by some and cried over or hugged by many. Far too many people had dobbed on Shen Qingqiu’s behaviour in Binghe’s absence, judging by his determined fiery insistence that his Shizun eat at least twice a day, and his nagging every evening for Shizun to take his medicine that helped keep the symptoms of Without a Cure in check. Nothing could cure it – well, not that Mu Qingfang or Binghe knew of – but the medications helped ease the frequency and intensity of attacks, dulling the pain of qi clogging up his meridians which had slowly worsened over time. They’d settled swiftly into a routine, much like the old one they’d had before the Endless Abyss, with only a few changes.

Firstly, Binghe was now officially one of the most senior inner disciples – though not head disciple as Ming Fan was still clinging jealously to keeping that role and Shen Qingqiu didn’t have the heart to take it from him after how hard he’d worked all these years, even though Luo Binghe was his superior now in many ways. It helped a lot that Binghe didn’t seem to want the position, claiming that just being at his Shizun’s side was good enough.

Neither he nor Ming Fan minded if Binghe took on some of the duties of head disciple though, since the latter was unconcerned about getting the credit for it. Binghe got to help only with the tasks he enjoyed, and Ming Fan got a lighter workload with no loss of status; he was back to doing only the jobs he’d done before Binghe had disappeared. Shen Qingqiu had foisted off extra work onto Ming Fan in his depression, but he was feeling much better now, especially with Binghe home to help share his workload.

“This disciple just wants to lighten Shizun’s burdens,” he insisted. “I want to be here to support you. Ming Fan enjoys handling financial reports and trade arrangements more than I do, anyway. When Shizun eventually ascends, let Ming Fan be the one to remain behind to take Shizun’s place. He has worked hard for it.”

“If Binghe is sure?”

“Very sure, Shizun,” he insisted. “I have other ambitions.”

Not that he would go into great detail what those were! He was probably shy about wanting to conquer more of the demon realm. Well, so far as it came to the business of Qing Jing Peak, it was all amicably settled without the fuss Shen Qingqiu had feared. Binghe looked after the maintenance of the Bamboo House, meals, and laundry for them both like he used to, and now also helped grade some papers, while Ming Fan carried out the majority of the duties of head disciple.

Binghe was also assigned a new role in leading sword fighting drills for the youngest outer disciples; Shen Qingqiu had picked up another ten disciples in the years Binghe had been gone. Liu Qingge had nagged him into it, like some fresh new faces would replace the disciple he’d lost! Well, it didn’t work like that – Binghe wasn’t a dead goldfish a parent could just swap out for a new fish and the child wouldn’t notice! But… it had helped a little, seeing those tiny, bright faces turning towards him like sunflowers towards the light. They were good little sheep!

Binghe did an admirable job leading the little ones through their sword forms, puffed up proudly as his Shizun watched him lead the class with an approving smile. Binghe stepped in here and there to correct footwork or unbalanced postures, and dispensed head pats for good work just like his Shizun did.

Shen Qingqiu laughed at him later in their private sparring sessions when Binghe ‘stumbled’ and fell into him a few times. “Cut that out, Binghe. I know you know those sword forms perfectly. I watched you demonstrate them yesterday. And of course you would have only improved during constant fighting in the Endless Abyss! If you want to convince me you’re a terrible swordsman then I will have to ban you from teaching and night hunts, and our spars will only be revision of the easiest forms. Is that what you really want?”

Binghe slumped sadly, looking at him with a pout. “I just want things to be like they were before. Shizun, you don’t hug me like you used to,” Binghe complained. “I thought at least this way…”

Shen Qingqiu bopped him on the head with his closed fan. “Binghe could use his words.”

“Ow. Okay, I’ll try, Shizun.”

Binghe drew himself up – how did he get so muscular in the Abyss? – and took a deep breath. “Shizun, I know I’m a grown man now, but I miss how you used to hug me every day. And… and sometimes bad memories bother me, or I get scared if you look a bit too sternly at me. Hugging – or holding hands – would help ground me. Remind me that I’m here, not there, and that I’m not alone. But if I’m a bother…”

Oh no! Teary sheep alert! He was weak to Binghe crying.

“You’re so much older now though, you’re not a child any longer,” Shen Qingqiu said. “I’m not rejecting you Binghe, it’s just a little more awkward now you’re um… so grown up. I thought maybe you were too old to need such attention. That you might even be offended at being treated like a child who needs head pats or gifts of sweets, since you keep pointing out to me how you’re not one any longer.”

It was all a little embarrassing, this open communication, but he thought it was best to be as honest as possible.

Plus the System’s points mean nothing to me now. I don’t care it’s offering more than it used to for hugs, it’s all a scam anyway.

The System popped up sad emojis and self-justifications at that, but he steadfastly ignored it. He had an insecure disciple who needed comfort!

Luckily, Binghe did indeed seem comforted by his reassurances, and a little head pat. He smiled with evident pleasure, the corners of his mouth curling up cutely. “I am very pleased you noticed I’m an adult now, Shizun. But even adults need hugs and comfort from their loved ones, you know.”

His face softened with understanding. “Then I will be there for you when you need me. I can’t take back what I did, but I can make it up to you now, until you feel safe and secure here again, Binghe.”

“Would it be alright if we cut training short today, Shizun? Could I maybe get a hug, or you holding my hand while I tell you about another one of the monsters I fought in the Abyss?”

“Of course, Binghe, whatever you need,” he promised. As he led him by the hand back to the Bamboo House his disciple looked as happy and carefree as a bird flying through a clear spring sky.

Binghe really seemed to take to telling him tales of the Abyss, and Shen Yuan suspected he’d caught onto how he loved to listen to his stories for he started making a regular habit of it, almost a ritual. Almost every afternoon after classes were done Binghe would sing happily to himself while bustling around in the kitchen preparing a pot of tea and some light snacks. He’d then set them out for them to enjoy while he found a good position for storytelling. He seemed to be experimenting with what brought him the grounding comfort he craved; he tried holding hands, leaning against Shen Qingqiu’s side, and being fully hugged, though that one didn’t work so well as Shen Qingqiu got uncomfortable hugging him for the entire duration of a long story.

One lazy afternoon Shen Qingqiu was sitting on a cushion on the ground with another squashy cushion in his lap that Binghe was using as a pillow. Binghe had sprawled out on the ground to the right-hand side of him with his head resting in Shen Qingqiu’s lap. Storytime was going on longer than usual that day, as Binghe put off preparing dinner to continue rambling about his misadventures, but Shen Qingqiu didn’t mind in the slightest as he got to hear about all kinds of interesting monsters. Also, Binghe was clingier than usual today, clearly in need of some extra comfort as he debriefed again about his struggles in the Endless Abyss.

Binghe was tearing up a little recounting a time when he hadn’t been able to sleep for three days straight because the ground was infested everywhere with Teal-Barbed Nightcrawlers.

“They kept trying to burrow into my skin whenever I lay down or even just stopped walking, Shizun,” he sniffled, “and the ground was so soft everywhere! I was looking everywhere for some solid rock just so I could lie down for a while. I was so dizzy and tired I was stumbling with every step, knowing that if I fell down I might never get up again.”

Binghe’s right hand reached out to gently rest on Shen Qingqiu’s knee, the sticky thing!

“Binghe was so brave and steadfast!” he complimented, stroking his hair to help ground him. “What did you do?”

[+20 protagonist satisfaction points.]

Whatever! he thought grumpily at his System. I thought I muted you! And don’t offer me another scenario pusher again! Mute!

[Fine. This System knows when it is not wanted! (｡•́︿•̀｡) ]

“Well, I eventually found a grove of tall trees and decided to climb one to sleep up there, but there were thorny vines wrapped around–”

There was a perfunctory rap on the door before Liu Qingge strode right in. “Shen Qingqiu, I’m here for… your… meridian… Um. What are you doing?!”

Liu Qingge’s face was rapidly turning red, and Shen Qingqiu suddenly realised with a blush how this scene might look to someone suddenly coming across them, even though it was totally innocent!

“Uh, shidi! It’s nothing… ah, Binghe was just telling me about…” He trailed off awkwardly as he realised that he hadn’t really told anybody much about where Binghe had been.

We need to get our stories straight!

Yue Qingyuan had just been so delighted at his shidi’s pleasure in having his lost student return that he hadn’t asked any awkward questions about it, being satisfied with Binghe’s story about having suffered a ‘dire injury’ at the Immortal Alliance Conference, followed by his subsequent lengthy recuperation at Huan Hua Palace.

Zhangmen-shixiong had been away for the past week at Huan Hua Palace, helping sort out the chaos there left behind in the wake of the Old Palace Master’s death, as well as dealing with some unspecified ‘personal matters’ he’d insisted on handling privately. Shen Qingqiu had communicated his endorsement of Gongyi Xiao over the Little Palace Mistress as the old lech’s successor but was otherwise happy to leave it all in his shixiong’s hands.

The question is, what did he tell our shidis about Luo Binghe before departing?

“Shishu really should wait after knocking,” Binghe chided, rolling his head on the cushion in Shen Qingqiu’s lap to look over at Liu Qingge. “Sometimes Shizun needs his privacy, you know.”

“Not that anything um, improper was going on! Binghe just was relaxing while telling me a story. He’s a bit tired this evening, that’s all,” Shen Qingqiu blustered, pulling his hands out of Binghe’s hair and fumbling to retrieve his Mewtwo fan from his sleeve to hide his face.

“That’s right,” Binghe said, sounding unruffled and calm rather than embarrassed like his poor self. He was still lying shamelessly in Shen Qingqiu’s lap. “Absolutely nothing odd happening here. Just life as usual, shishu.”

Shen Qingqiu couldn’t see Binghe’s face well now he’d turned his head to the face the door, but he had a hunch his grey lotus wasn’t pink-cheeked at all, the shameless thing! He did appreciate the support, though.

“If Liu-shishu wouldn’t mind waiting outside for a moment,” Binghe suggested smoothly, “Shizun will be ready for you to clear his meridians shortly.”

Liu Qingge looked practically constipated his face was screwed up so tight. He stomped outside with a heavy tread, and slammed the door so hard on his exit that Shen Qingqiu suspected someone would be doing another repair request to An Ding Peak soon.

“Up you get now, Binghe,” he encouraged quietly. “Let’s not embarrass your shishu; he doesn’t understand the situation.”

Binghe replied at a more normal volume, with an exaggerated sigh, "I'm sorry he interrupted our time together, Shizun, but it could have been worse!"

Binghe rose and fetched a third teacup for the table, turning away as he adjusted his slightly wrinkled robes.

“That was embarrassing,” Shen Qingqiu complained very softly. “I don’t recall if he knows about you know, the Endless Abyss, and I didn’t know what to say.”

"Don't be embarrassed, Shizun, we have nothing to be ashamed of,” Binghe called back, his voice clear and firm. “I am sorry I forgot he would be coming over this evening.”

“I should have remembered too,” Shen Qingqiu apologised, smoothing down his robes before settling down at the table for tea and a meridian-cleansing session. “I don’t know how I missed it; it’s the same day of the month he always visits on! I suppose I just got caught up in your story this afternoon.”

Binghe laughed loudly at their shared mistake and was still grinning when he opened the door to let his red-faced shishu back inside.

-000-

After a fortnight back on Qing Jing Peak, Binghe was starting to get anxious about wanting to go ‘check on business’ in the demon realm but was also getting sticky and clingy about parting from him, wanting reassurance multiple times that his Shizun didn’t mind Binghe being a demon lord. Eventually he conceded with a sigh that he really did have to go, and Xin Mo was fished out from its banishment to a storeroom, and the talismans on it suppressing demonic energy were peeled off.

“I’ll be back soon,” Binghe promised nervously. “I can still come back, right?”

“Always,” Shen Qingqiu insisted, giving him a hug that turned into a painful clinch as Binghe clung to him extra tightly.

As he grunted in discomfort, Binghe set him free and took a step back. With a flicker of his qi, he let his scarlet zuiyin flare up bright and visible, watching Shen Qingqiu’s face carefully as his mark of sin was revealed.

“It’s okay,” Shen Qingqiu said soothingly. “It’s alright, I’m not going to… do anything. Binghe is fine just how he is.”

Binghe shuddered a little, manfully holding back tears, and released his demonic qi a little more. His ears grew to slightly tapered points, and his nails turned dark as they lengthened and sharpened.

“Binghe is still Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu reassured him. “This master will still welcome you here and is sorry you ever feared differently. I was scared too, that Binghe might hate me.”

“Shizun!” Binghe sobbed. “Never!” As his mouth opened to let out that plaintive cry, Shen Qingqiu was fascinated to see his canine teeth had transformed to be a little sharper than before, just like many demons’ fangs. That meat-eating heritage was shining through!

He stepped forward and carefully took hold of both of Binghe’s hands, and Binghe’s claws lay carefully soft and still in his palms so they wouldn’t scratch his skin. “Whether you are only my disciple or ruling as a demon lord, this master still cares for you, Binghe. I always will. Your Shizun is proud of you.”

“Shizun, I l- look forward to seeing you again soon,” Binghe said, smiling through the few crystal tears that had escaped his best efforts at suppressing them. “I have to go now, or I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to ever leave your side again.”

He gave Binghe’s hands a careful squeeze – wary of his talon-like nails – and let him go. “Binghe should go then, but remember to be careful not to overuse Xin Mo.”

He was fascinated and eager to see the legendary weapon in Binghe’s rightful hands but wary of making his disciple fret that he was frightened of him, which he just wasn’t. Not any longer! “Go. And come back soon with a little souvenir for your Shizun, hmm?”

“Yes, Shizun!” Binghe swore, then retreated to the security and privacy of his room to depart for the demon realm.

Shen Qingqiu sighed as he peeked into the empty side room. It was too quiet again.

He sat down at his guqin and plucked out a soft song.

     “Hey, Jude, don't make it bad
     Take a sad song and make it better
     Remember to let her into your heart
     Then you can start to make it better.”

It was a pity Shang Qinghua was still away, it’d be nice to have him visit for a good gossip, and so he could boast to his friend about how much better his stupid story was going to be with Binghe and himself properly reconciled. He felt quite smug about it!

Chapter Text

“Shizun, did you know… do you know where Shang Qinghua is… right now?” Binghe said, striding out of his bedroom in full demon lord regalia, all flashy black and red embroidered layered robes, with a large bared triangle of skin at his chest that tapered down dangerously low, practically to his belt. He’d been gone for three days, and had presumably travelled straight home via Xin Mo, landing in his bedroom for privacy’s sake as a security precaution.

“Hmm?” he asked, distractedly. Was that a scar on Binghe’s chest? Oh god, was that where he’d stabbed him? “Why didn’t that heal right? You shouldn’t scar; your heavenly demon regeneration should prevent that.”

Binghe huffed loudly, touching an impatient hand to his forehead. “Shizun! Shang Qinghua – what do you know about where he spends his time when he’s not on his peak?”

“Oh, your shishu has a boyfriend,” he said, matter-of-factly. “I mean a ‘cultivation partner’, I believe that is the formal term.”

“Shang-shishu said they were courting, but his partner said they were engaged. Then they argued about it.”

“So, you met him? I mean, you know who he is, right? He’s a… man of some renown,” Shen Qingqiu hedged carefully.

He didn’t want to ‘out’ Shang Qinghua as dating a demon if Binghe didn’t know yet. Being gay was oddly acceptable everywhere in this world, despite its origins as a stallion novel, but dating a demon certainly wasn’t considered normal. Shang Qinghua definitely hadn’t mentioned seeing Binghe anywhere in the Demon Realms! That was odd actually; why hadn’t he heard about that through his demonic contacts? Did Binghe not conquer his way across the north?

Binghe stared at him. “It’s Mobei-Jun. The demon king of the Northern Desert. If that’s what you’re trying to hint at. If you didn’t know, Shizun, you should know.”

“Oh good!” Shen Qingqiu said, relaxing a little. “I didn’t want to give them away if you didn’t already know.”

Ah! Has he conquered it yet? I need to know! Where are we in the world-conquering timeline after his speedrunning of the Endless Abyss?

“Were you conquering the North? You did leave him alive, didn’t you? Your shishu wouldn’t want him hurt.”

Shang Qinghua will be devastated if his beloved ‘king’ is killed off! I think technically he’s still a prince at the moment, but he rules like a king in his father’s stead, so he gets the title. Demons can be rather pragmatic like that.

“Yes, Shizun. We fought a year ago and he submitted to me and begged for mercy. Did Shizun want him killed? Because I can still go do that! I know he harmed you, Shizun, but he swore fealty and offered me all his lands and called me Emperor! He vowed to aid me in anything I wanted and I thought…” Binghe trailed off, and a frown creased his pretty brow right where his zuiyin was.

“Shizun, I never saw Shang Qinghua there before, I never even heard so much as a rumour about him. I think Mobei-Jun’s been actively hiding him from me.”

“Oh, well, perhaps he was scared you might hurt him, as a traitor to your sect consorting with a demon.”

Binghe nodded. “Possibly. Is it… tell me again, is it really alright that this one is recognised as a lord in the Demon Realm? I can give it up!” he promised, clutching at his hands fervently, his nails all human and soft. “One battle just led to another, and then another. But I didn’t mean to become a- an emperor, it just happened after I won so many challenges! I can quit… anything for Shizun!”

Shizun withdrew his hands, sparking tears in his little grey lotus’ eyes, but they dried up fast when he patted that fluffy head. “Hush now, it’s alright if you’re a demon lord, even if you’re an emperor! Shizun is proud you accomplished so much in so little time! And I want Mobei-Jun spared, so that’s just fine. Binghe did the right thing.”

Binghe leapt into his arms for a hug. “Shizun!”

“Aren’t you tired yet of hugging me and crying so, Binghe?” he chided gently, enveloping him in his arms despite his words suggesting Binghe should draw away. He breathed in the odd new scent of Binghe’s hair, all smoke and dust and rich spices. “How old are you now?”

“Twenty, Shizun! But this one will never tire of hugging Shizun.”

“Silly.”

“Shizun?” he asked, from the safety of the hug, his face hidden and looking over his Shizun’s shoulder. “You don’t think there’s anything wrong with your shidi dating a demon, do you? Would you date a demon? M-marry a demon lord?”

Oh! I know what this is about!

“Binghe isn’t really worried about his shishu, he’s thinking about himself.”

Still hidden in the hug, Binghe’s hands clenched nervously on his back. “Yes, Shizun.”

“Binghe is a handsome, capable young man, an admirable cultivator who can accomplish anything he wishes in life. He can certainly find a human wife – or even many wives, both human women and demonesses – who would be honoured to join him in marriage. Though I would personally advise you focus on quality over quantity, Binghe. The Little Palace Mistress, for instance, might be a pretty young girl, but her tendency towards violence and petty behaviour wouldn’t make her a good match for Binghe.”

Binghe sighed deeply and slumped with evident relief in his arms.

“Don’t worry, Binghe,” he said, giving him a comforting pat on the back before pulling away to put his hands on Binghe’s shoulders. Oh! His grey lotus was looking a little downcast, alas! “Your mixed heritage won’t count against you in courting, if you’re confident enough and present yourself well! I’ve said it before and I will say it again – and please cast from your memory any bad things I might have insinuated at the edge of the Abyss – there is nothing wrong with being a demon. Binghe is Binghe. Anyone would be lucky to be with you!”

“Anyone?” Binghe asked wistfully.

“Anyone,” he repeated firmly, giving him a final head pat and stepping away. “Just take the time to get to know them well before revealing your heritage or proposing to them. Don’t rush into anything unwise just because you’re in danger, or someone begs for help, or you think it’s the only way to get a hold of a magic artefact. Trust me.”

“Would Shizun marry a demon?” Binghe asked, his head tilted curiously, and his dark eyes intent. “If they looked human and would look after his home for him, and love and treasure him always?”

He didn’t need to give it a lot of thought. “Of course I would if they were a good match,” he agreed, with a nod. “Not Mobei-Jun, or Sha Hualing… no-one violent who thought hitting me was the way to my heart. But hypothetically, sure! Demons are pretty cool. It… it would even be alright if they had horns, or sharp claws or something. I’m not prejudiced. I don’t know how the sect would take it though, so that might be a matter of concern.”

A little lost in thought, he eyed Binghe’s hands, wondering if he might bring his claws back if he asked, so he could take a closer look at them. The PIDW fandom varied in its opinion on what made them come out; it appeared to be will-based, with them appearing with a flex of demonic qi. Would strong emotions or danger trigger them too? What if he was in bed…

Anyway, Binghe won’t have any trouble courting, there were endless chapters of papapa to prove it!

“And Shizun would marry a man?”

Why is he staring at me so? Why would he think that?! I thought the rumours about me were all about the brothels!

“Wh- what? I didn’t say that. I’m not like that. I like women, Binghe.”

“But Shizun listed Mobei-Jun first, when thinking about matches.”

“I was just listing demons I knew first-hand!” he pointed out insistently. “I didn’t mean anything by listing him, I hardly know him! We’ve only met a few times, for incredibly awkward talks over tea!”

Personally, he thought those chats had been set up because Mobei-Jun had gone through a patch of possessive jealousy about Shen Qingqiu spending too much time with Shang Qinghua.

It was almost adorable how dense that cold wall of muscle had been! Fancy him not being able to see how utterly besotted Shang Qinghua is!

“But this disciple has seen Shizun look at men sometimes,” Binghe said.

Was that scepticism on his grey lotus’ face?! Rude!

“You’re ganging up on me with your pest of a shishu on this?” he huffed, throwing his hands up in the air. “I do not stare at people! Nothing unusual, I just like to watch sparring, for example… that’s normal for a martial arts teacher! I can appreciate the aesthetic beauty of people or how they move without desiring them!”

Binghe stared at him for a while, then smiled broadly. “Of course, Shizun. My apologies, I was wrong. May we both be lucky in love, then. One day.”

Good! That’s settled then.

“About my journey to the north, it was a bit cut short, Shizun,” Binghe said, changing to a less emotionally uncomfortable subject, to his great relief. “I don’t want to use Xin Mo again so soon, so I was wondering if maybe Shang Qinghua would be willing to be a go-between?”

“He’d probably be happy to help. Well, ‘nervous but willing’ might be a better descriptor,” he corrected. Luo Binghe always made his friend a little bit twitchy. He’d have to reassure Airplane about Binghe’s good intentions, but it should be fine. “Bribing him with snacks might help settle his nerves. He likes your cooking, but then, who wouldn’t?”

Binghe smiled. “Do let me know when he returns, won’t you, Shizun? There are a few matters I’d like to talk to him about and enlist his assistance with.”

“I’d be happy to help,” he promised.

“Well, I’m going to go change into my disciple robes and make a start on dinner for us, Shizun.”

Binghe spun around in a whirl of majestic jet-black robes edged with red flame embroidery, and Shen Qingqiu couldn’t resist grabbing a swirling sleeve, stopping his disciple in his tracks. “Binghe?” he asked, with embarrassed softness. “Would you wear these robes a little longer? I’d like to make some preliminary sketches for a painting. If could you put Xin Mo’s sheath on your belt for a little while, and bring your claws and zuiyin back out that would be um… good too. For completeness’ sake. For the aesthetic.”

He’d have to make sure Shang Qinghua never saw the finished painting, or he’d suffer endless ribbing about how much he missed his Demon Emperor PIDW merch. A blush spread unchecked across his face.

With a warm, delighted laugh, Binghe instantly changed his plans. “This Demon Emperor would be delighted to pose for you, if it would make you happy, Shizun.”

Shen Qingqiu hid behind his Hatsune Miku inspired painted fan, with her depicted as a turquoise-haired siren posing on a rock at the seashore. “I’ll go get my easel and painting supplies, and some parchment too. You lock the door and move a chair somewhere the light is good and wait for me.”

“I’ll be waiting for you, Shizun. As long as it takes,” Binghe said, and his voice was a deep rumbling purr that left him feeling oddly unsettled.

I bet he uses that voice on his wives.

-000-

Shen Qingqiu poured some tea for Zhangmen-shixiong, stubbornly doing the honours despite the sect leader’s attempt at insisting that he wanted to do it.

“You outrank me, that’s protocol,” Shen Qingqiu insisted, more successfully. “Hush, just sit and enjoy it, and tell me all the gossip from Huan Hua Palace.”

“Well, I won’t bore you with all the details,” Yue Qingyuan replied, rapping the knuckles of two fingers on the table a couple of times in a sneaky little symbolic thank you bow for the tea. “The short version is that the late sect leader’s daughter – the rather bratty ‘Little Palace Mistress’ – mostly failed in her coup to seize control of the sect. Head Disciple Gongyi Xiao was just too respected and advanced in his cultivation compared to her, and had broader support. So, with the blessing and support of some other sects including our own, as well as strong internal support within Huan Hua Palace, he’s been installed as the new sect leader.”

“Good for him! A good sprout. Now, you said the Little Palace Mistress ‘mostly’ failed in her coup?”

While waiting for his tea to cool he picked at some boiled peanuts, which Binghe had made yesterday in a cutely petty fit of competitiveness with Shang Qinghua’s market stall purveyor. They were, of course, even better than the original, as expected of the protagonist’s sublime cooking!

“I believe she and young master Gongyi are now officially courting, with an engagement announcement expected any day,” Yue Qingyuan said, with a smile.

“Huh! Well, it’s not a match I would want, but I wish him luck with her; I suspect he’ll need it.”

Well, there’s another wife off the market, Binghe! Probably for the best, in my opinion.

“And how did gege’s mysterious personal errands go?”

Yue Qingyuan smiled blandly, calm as a still lake. “All settled, nothing to worry about, Xiao Shen. Shang-shidi helped me with some of the duller details; he’s good with paperwork and the like. I believe you two have become quite good friends now, gossiping away about all kinds of secrets?”

Shen Qingqiu shifted uncomfortably. Had they given anything away? What was his shixiong hinting at, exactly? “Yes, well, we all have things we’re not always comfortable discussing widely. A confidant can be good at times.”

“Mn,” Yue Qingyuan agreed. “Well, I’m glad of it. He’s a good friend to you, didi. I always hoped you’d settle in better at our sect with time, and I feel you truly have of late. Qi Qingqi speaks more highly of you now too.”

Didi! How cute! Now we match, gege.

“We’ve bonded,” he agreed, smiling and relaxing more as the conversation shifted away from secrets he shared with Shang Qinghua.

They spoke comfortably and lightly of their sect siblings and discussed poetry and the latest books they’d been reading. Well, he did, at least. Yue Qingyuan didn’t seem to read a lot of novels. They also played a couple of companiable games of weiqi, which Shen Qingqiu eventually won thanks to the sect leader being an even worse player than he was.

Eventually as the afternoon dragged on and the tea grew cold, Yue Qingyuan started to shift around and show signs he thought he should leave, glancing at the door thoughtfully and brushing at his robes.

“Well, I suppose I should be going,” Yue Qingyuan said, with obvious reluctance, lingering and not actually moving to rise from his seat. “It’s getting late.”

“I believe I promised to play you a happy tune, the next time you stopped by for a long visit,” Shen Qingqiu offered, with a smile. “If gege has time to stay a little longer today?”

“For you, Xiao Shen, I will always have time,” he promised. “I would love to hear you play something sweet again.”

He settled down at his guzheng and smiled brightly as he sang.

     “Little darling
     The smiles returning to their faces
     Little darling
     It seems like years since it's been here

     Here comes the sun
     Here comes the sun
     And I say, ‘It's alright’”

In the midst of his playing Luo Binghe returned from his classes, bowed briefly to their guest, and after dropping off his things headed straight for the kitchen. He bustled around preparing something as quietly as possibly so as not to disrupt his Shizun’s performance.

Shen Qingqiu thought he might hover around, since they had a guest lingering and asking optimistically for a second song, but Binghe seemed determined to head off on business of his own.

“Shizun! This one will be off now to see Shang Qinghua, I just heard he’s returned to An Ding Peak at last. This disciple has left you some drunken chicken and a wood ear mushroom salad in the kitchen, in case I’m late home this evening. There’s only enough for one though, sorry Zhangmen-shibo.”

Shen Qingqiu nodded agreeably. “Tell your shishu I said ‘hi’ and that he should stop by with his draft next week for an editing session.”

“What?” Binghe said, pausing and turning back in puzzlement.

“What? His writing’s not as bad as you might expect,” he said defensively. Now Airplane didn’t have to pander to the lowest common denominator to keep himself in rent money and ramen noodles his writing was better since he had time to work on it properly. Shen Qingqiu was his self-appointed editor.

“Shizun, this disciple didn’t know he wrote stories… or that you read them,” he said, tilting his head in curiosity.

“You were gone for a few years, Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu said softly. “I… things change in that time. Your shishu became an even better friend while you were gone. He worried about me a lot, especially since Ming Fan snitched to him every time he fretted I wasn’t eating properly, or I stayed too long at… Ah! Never mind.”

He stumbled to a halt on seeing the worried, inquisitive look on Binghe’s face, and Yue Qingyuan’s deeply amused expression.

He gave Yue Qingyuan a warning look, but it only made his shibo grin even harder, and he mouthed the word ‘caught’ at him.

Hmph! Binghe already heard most of all that from my gossiping disciples, anyway.

Yue Qingyuan plastered on his calm polite mask in lieu of an apology when faced with Shen Qingqiu’s scowl.

Binghe didn’t need to hear about his fellow disciples worrying about how long he stayed at Zheng Yang’s sword mound! “Don’t worry about it. It was just a little lonely while you were gone, that’s all. Various people tried to help, in their own way.”

He nodded politely at Yue Qingyuan in recognition of his shixiong’s efforts to keep him company through his depression too, and in assigning him to the most interesting hunts off the peak he could think of.

“Yes, Shizun,” Binghe said, serious faced but politely not pushing for more information. “Well, this disciple has a lot to discuss with Shang-shishu so I really need to be going.”

“Before you go, have you seen my Hatsune Miku fan anywhere? I’ve misplaced it, and Yue Qingyuan hasn’t seen it.”

“Sorry, Shizun, I haven’t. Bye!”

Oh well, maybe Liu Qingge will stumble across it. He might already have it and be waiting to return it to me.

Binghe must’ve had a lot of business in the demon realm to handle via Shang Qinghua, because he was often away at An Ding over the next couple of weeks, always popping off in the afternoons once classes were done. Still, he seemed to have a happy, stable mood (no Xin Mo drama!) and was always back in time to cook dinner, and his company in the evenings was comfortable and relaxed. Shen Qingqiu worked on his painting of Demon Emperor Binghe, or read books by the bright light of a new nightpearl (a souvenir Binghe had gifted him) while Binghe graded essays from the young outer disciples, and he often played the guzheng for Binghe while his disciple did some calligraphy. On bad days Binghe leant against his side or laid in his lap late in the evenings before bed, and retold stories of the monsters of the Endless Abyss.

Binghe had asked for some inspirational lines to consider for a calligraphy project, and after rejecting a lot of them the one he eventually settled on made Shen Yuan smile at his choice, for it was a quote from a One Piece movie.

     “If you don't take risks, you can't create a future.”

“That came out lovely, Binghe. Why did you pick that saying out of all my suggestions?” he asked, resting a hand on Binghe’s shoulder and leaning over him to admire his artistic brushwork.

“It just spoke to me, Shizun,” he said, beaming happily up at him.

-000-

Late one evening Binghe approached him after the dinner dishes had been cleared away. “I… I have a song I’ve been secretly practicing for the past week,” Binghe said, shifting nervously from side to side. “I feel I am ready, that is, that the song is ready, and I would like to play it for you this evening, Shizun.”

“Oh, Binghe! I would be delighted to hear it,” he encouraged.

Binghe took a deep nervous breath as he settled down to play, setting out his own personal guzheng, and Shen Qingqiu was delighted to recognise the familiar strains of an ABBA tune.

So that’s why he’s been sneaking off so often to An Ding Peak! Airplane’s been tutoring him!

Binghe’s voice was shaky at the start, and he kept switching between watching his uncertain fingering on the strings and glancing at his Shizun, as if fretting about his reaction.

     “I wasn't jealous before we met
     Now every man that I see is a potential threat
     And I'm possessive, it isn't nice”

Aw! Jealous bun! I wonder who he has in mind, and what rival suitor is worrying him? Is it Ning Yingying and Ming Fan, maybe? Those two have been spending more time together lately; their friendship grew stronger while Binghe was away in the Endless Abyss. That must have hurt him.

Binghe sang with a pure, deep voice, heartfelt and sincere. His hands shook a little at the start as he played, but his nerves calmed the longer he went on, under his Shizun’s encouraging smiles. He could see Airplane’s tweaking (or misremembering) of the lyrics here and there, but most of them seemed right. By the time Binghe reached the second verse he was much calmer; his shoulders had relaxed from their tense posture, and his fingers no longer trembled on the strings.

     “It was like shooting a sitting duck
     A little small talk, a smile, and baobei, I was stuck”

Ning Yingying seemed a likely candidate. Small kindnesses always meant a lot to him, growing up. Shen Qingqiu nodded and smiled.

Drawing confidence from within as the song continued, Binghe’s voice rang out loud and intense as he reached the chorus, no longer watching his fingering but playing the no doubt well-practiced section with ease while staring intently at Shen Qingqiu.

     “I feel a kind of fear
     When I don't have you near
     Unsatisfied, I skip my pride
     I beg you, dear!

     Don't go wasting your emotion
     Lay all your love on me
     Don't go sharing your devotion
     Lay all your love on me!”

He skipped the third verse and finished up with another pre-chorus and then a final repetition of the chorus. An interesting choice, but not unsatisfying. He came to a breathless halt and gazed expectantly at Shen Qingqiu.

“That was beautiful Binghe, and very sweet,” he complimented, applauding with polite enthusiasm. Binghe’s face lit up at his praise. “An excellent arrangement, I can tell you worked hard on it. I suppose your Shang-shishu taught that song to you?”

Binghe laughed, clear and bright. “He told me you would probably recognise it but wouldn’t mind I didn’t write it myself as you sometimes do something similar yourself. I did have to work quite hard on writing out the melody though, as Shang-shishu doesn’t play at all so he could only sing it and offer corrections. So, you… you really liked it?”

“I loved it, were you practicing it for someone in particular? It’s quite a romantic tune.”

“I practiced it for Shizun,” Binghe replied shyly, blinking softly as he looked up at him through thick lowered eyelashes, pretty as a coy maiden.

“There’s no such thing as too much practice,” he said approvingly. “Did you want some feedback from me on the arrangement before you perform it?”

“I just sang it for you, Shizun.”

“Yes? It was very good,” he encouraged. “An excellent rendition! You can be very proud. A bit unsteady at the start, but a little more practice will fix that stage fright. Binghe played very well.”

Binghe slumped, as if he’d been hoping for more unalloyed lavish praise. “I guess Shang-shishu is right; I still have a lot of work to do,” he muttered unhappily.

No hurried reassurances about his overall top-quality performance were enough to perk his disciple’s mood back up, and Shen Qingqiu worriedly decided he’d better check in with Shang Qinghua about what criticism he might’ve said to upset poor Binghe. How dare he be so mean to Binghe to leave him fretting that his near-perfect performance still needed so much work! He could even gather a little sneaky gossip; perhaps Airplane knew who the song was meant for!

-000-

Shang Qinghua’s response to that question was short, blunt, and like a hammer blow to the head.

“You.”

“What?”

“He played it for you. It’s a love song for you,” Shang Qinghua said bluntly. “It’s how he feels about you, the man he’s in love with. He picked that song out of about a dozen I sang bits of for him. That was him confessing to you, you pickle-brained fool. I warned him you probably weren’t ready to hear it, but he was so determined. He worked so hard on it, too!”

Shen Qingqiu held up a trembling hand. “Wait. Wait a minute.”

“Take your time, bro. And don’t worry, I think Binghe will thank me for telling you, in the end.”

He shook his head. “He’s in love with me? Me? Is there some kind of pollen involved? The stallion protagonist with hundreds of wives can’t be in love with a man, let alone me! The changes we’ve made to the world aren’t big enough to change his sexuality!”

“No pollen. And this isn’t new. He’s felt like this for years, apparently. Since before the Abyss even, when he was just your little white lotus.”

“Nope. There must be some mistake. You misinterpreted something he said. It’s probably meant for Liu Mingyan.”

Best wife.

“Bro,” Shang Qinghua said, shaking his head with a disbelieving huff. “Cucumber-bro. You can’t ‘nope’ your way out of this, he feels what he feels. And he’s very clear about this. He asked me for tips about courting and human-demon relationships, once he was reassured me and my king were engaged with no chance of me trying to poach you. It was tough to shut him up once he got going about how wonderful you are… Well to be honest I didn’t really try very hard; I don’t want him mad at me.”

“This doesn’t make sense. Why would he think I would be interested?”

Shang Qinghua gave him a deeply sceptical look. “Really? I heard he acts so much like your wife that a few of those little hyperactive balls of trouble on your peak call him ‘Shiniang’.”

“They’re bullying him?”

“They’re like, ten years old! Twelve at most! They’re showing respect, bro!” Qinghua insisted, shaking his head in disbelief. “They genuinely think you’re together. You live together, he cooks and cleans for you, and you hug and hold hands in public far too often for the cultural standards of my world for anyone who’s not married or courting. They legit think you’re sleeping together, and he’s the wife. And Binghe doesn’t deny it.”

“Well, he should,” he said, folding his arms defensively. “Because we’re not.”

“You’re not denying the hugging, though,” Qinghua observed.

“Well, he needs support! The Endless Abyss was very traumatic for him! Touch is grounding. I think he has PTSD.”

“Uh huh. And what other kind of ‘comfort’ do you offer?”

“Nothing unusual.”

Shang Qinghua stared at him. “What’s usual, then?”

“I haven’t encouraged this!” he insisted.

I didn’t, did I?

“Maybe… I suppose hair brushing while we’re in our in sleeping robes is a bit inappropriate, compared to modern times,” he conceded.

“A bit?”

“I did it for my sister all the time back home!”

“Was she a long, cool drink of water with rippling muscles? So, tell me bro, after you brush his hair do you tuck your twenty-year-old baby boy in at night with a little kiss?”

“You’re being ridiculous. And I only tuck him in after he’s had a nightmare. No kisses!”

But he’d asked for them – forehead kisses. He’d gotten head pats instead. He blushed.

“A nightmare. The prize student of the Elder Dream Demon has nightmares. Are you even listening to yourself right now?”

“Shut up!” he yelled, embarrassed. “He’s not like the Luo Binghe from your trash! He’s different! He’s even better! You don’t know what he’s been through, or what he has or hasn’t learnt from Meng Mo!”

He panted furiously, his fists clenched.

“Okay, okay bro,” Qinghua soothed. “Look, forget about that. Just…”

“I don’t like him like that,” he insisted. “And I don’t see any evidence that he feels like that about me.”

He bit his lip as he thought about how Binghe cooked him all his favourite meals and served them with those wife lines like, ‘I hope my humble offering brings Shizun pleasure!’ He begged for hugs and praise with starry eyes, and sometimes sleepily snuggled into his bed at night, sighing with contentment all tucked up against his chest after a bad dream. That was just for comfort though, right? Right?!

‘I sang it for you, Shizun.’ That’s what he said. I just wasn’t listening.

“He does. I’m not lying, Cucumber-bro. But it’s alright, you don’t have to like someone back just because they like you.”

“I like women. Binghe’s just a friend. A good friend, but that’s all. Obviously I know he’s handsome beyond compare, and anyone would be lucky to have him, but it’s not going to be me. I don’t like him like that.”

His heart hurt at the thought of how upset Binghe was going to be. A dull ache started in his chest, and a choking sensation in his throat.

What if Binghe cried? He would cry. I can’t bear to make him cry again, not like that.

“If you say so.”

“I do. He has to move on. He will move on from this hypothetical crush. To his harem.”

His eyes glazed over as he thought about the future. Binghe would move on, it was inevitable. A stallion protagonist would never be happy with just one person, no matter who they were.

Poor Binghe. Fixated on his old teacher instead of someone healthier for him. What did I do wrong? Have I ruined him?

“Cucumber-bro,” his friend said, resting both hands on Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders to get his full attention. “He’s not going to move on in a hurry, and I’m begging you, don’t go to him and bluntly reject him. Don’t say those things to him. It will break him. Don’t do it.”

“I’ll rehearse what to say. I won’t hurt him,” he promised. “He doesn’t deserve that.”

Qinghua shook his head, his mouth an atypical thin, serious line. “Don’t do it at all. Firstly, I think you should take the time to sort your true feelings out, instead of going with a knee-jerk first reaction. And secondly, don’t reject him while he’s still wielding Xin Mo. I’m really serious about the ‘no breaking him’ thing. Heart demons will mess him up big time. I should know, I wrote that shit. Heartbreak is going to give him like, serious mental illness. The xianxia equivalent – which is qi deviations and heart demons. Then Xin Mo will dial that shit up to eleven unless he’s fucking and killing his way through the world, and he’s not doing either of those things right now. Don’t do it, I beg you. Just stay quiet, at least until he gives Xin Mo up for good.”

Shen Qingqiu nodded slowly. “Right, yes, that makes sense. I can… I can just be quiet for now. Nothing needs to change.”

“Think it over,” Shang Qinghua urged. “Your sexuality. How you feel about Binghe. Bro, to be perfectly blunt there’s a reason my other readers were always telling you to ‘just go fuck him if you love him that much’ in the comments sections.”

“They were just being crude, you know we’re all trolls online looking for a reaction. Except for my perfectly valid criticisms, of course.”

Shang Qinghua snorted.

Rude! But I guess I was asking for that.

“Listen, I know about being closeted and trying to act straighter than the straights.” He held a cupped hand up to his ear. “Do you hear that sound? It’s your gaydar pinging off yourself, bro. I’m begging you to spend some time thinking it over. Imagine having sex with a woman – some woman you’ve actually met and seen the face of – and then imagine doing the same thing with Binghe. Kissing. Touching. Getting down and dirty. Or picture yourself with another man altogether, like Liu Qingge, or Yue Qingyuan. Or hell, even me! But if you pick me don’t tell me about that ever, bro. And if no-one makes you hot at all, well, you’ve learnt something about yourself there too.”

“You are disgusting,” he sneered. “I will do no such thing. I’m leaving.”

“Just think about it, seriously. And don’t break my son. The world wouldn’t survive it.”

He paused halfway out the door. “I promise not to break him. I’ll stay quiet. Don’t… don’t tell him you told me. Don’t say anything. I just want things to be normal.”

“I’ll stay quiet but promise me you’ll really think about it.”

I won’t. I won’t.

“I already know what I feel.”

-000-

But of course, he did think about it. He couldn’t help it.

“Binghe are you”–in love with me?–“ready for bed yet?”

“Almost, Shizun!”

Act normal, act normal.

He brushed Binghe’s hair, the long wavy locks curling around his fingers like a caress. He imagined what it would feel like to kiss his hair.

Binghe moaned with happiness as the comb scratched across his scalp, and Shen Qingqiu’s fingers tightened involuntarily on his hair, jerking it down harshly.

“Ow!” Binghe gasped.

“Shizun is sorry, sorry he hurt you.”

“It’s alright,” Binghe said, twisting around to smile at him. “I don’t mind if Shizun hurts me a little.”

Don’t think about what he just said, he insisted to himself. He didn’t mean anything by it! Don’t think about it like that!

Binghe smiled at his blush, and settled back to let him finish braiding his hair.

-000-

“Shizun, I made youtiao to go with the congee today,” Binghe said, serving breakfast before sliding in to sit close to him at the table.

“You didn’t have to, that’s a lot of work,” he replied, though it didn’t stop him helping himself to a few. He didn’t want Binghe’s hard work to go to waste, after all! And they did look good.

“Cooking for someone you care for is never work, it’s an honour,” Binghe said.

Shen Qingqiu choked briefly on a mouthful of congee.

That’s exactly what he said to the Little Palace Mistress when he brought her breakfast in bed the morning after they first had sex.

“Is Shizun alright?” Binghe said, patting him anxiously on the back.

“Fine, fine! It was just a little hot, that’s all. Stop fussing.”

He couldn’t help picturing Binghe in bed with the Little Palace Mistress, her face all flushed and wanton, and Binghe biting his lip as he thrust vigorously in and out of her, just like in their wedding chapter.

But I don’t even like the Little Palace Mistress! he thought anxiously to himself. It’s not at all hot! It’s not! It’s just the thought of boobs, and sex in general.

He wondered what Binghe – the real Binghe – looked like naked. Was he as big as Airplane always described?

His eyes flicked involuntarily to Binghe, who smiled at the attention.

Don’t think about it.

He stared down at his congee and ate it mechanically, flushed and uncomfortable. He stayed there thinking about Qi Qingqi abusing his taste in novels until he was able to safely rise from the table without embarrassing himself.

He thought about Shang Qinghua telling him he might learn something about himself trying to think about women and swore at the memory.

Fuck! I just don’t like Qi Qingqi! It doesn’t mean I don’t like women in general!

-000-

He hung his completed painting of Demon Emperor Luo Binghe on his bedroom wall, safely hidden where no visitors would see it and look askance at his disciple portrayed as a demon. He’d be able to see it when he lay down in bed, just like his similar PIDW fanart poster in his old room back in Shanghai.

He’s just a boy. He doesn’t know what he really wants, he told himself, but it wasn’t very convincing, lying there staring up at Binghe’s partially bared, muscular and clearly very adult chest. He’d even included half of one brown nipple, exposed by the gaping robes. He’d had to paint accurately! That was how the robe had hung when Binghe had modelled for him.

He looked at the painting again, that darkly brooding Demon Emperor smiling wickedly at him. His Binghe wasn’t a boy any longer.

He’ll get over it. He’ll move on.

He closed his eyes and took his semi-firm cock in hand, trying to think of the prettiest of the jiejies of the Warm Red Pavilion. It felt wrong. They were all such sweet girls, like sisters really.

He tried thinking of a few of them, before he got distracted wondering what kind of medicines Shen Jiu used to prescribe for them and if they’d found a decently priced new supplier.

Does this world have contraceptive herbs? STDs? I should send them a letter.

Between his wandering mind and his desultory stroking he went limp and eventually gave up, rolling over and curling up in his blanket.

Binghe woke him in the morning with a gentle hand on his shoulder to shake him awake, and an offer of breakfast in bed.

“You slept in, so I thought I’d bring you something! Oh, your painting is finished!” he gasped excitedly.

“Emperor Luo Binghe looks so handsome, doesn’t he?” Shen Qingqiu said, and blushed at the truth of it. Of course Binghe was handsome, that was just an objective fact. It didn’t mean… He meant the painting!

“Not as handsome as Shizun.”

Ah! No more wife lines! he thought, his heart lurching in his chest. “Enough of your nonsense,” he corrected sternly, taking the bowl of congee mixed with mouth-watering minced pork and a diced century egg.

Binghe sat on the edge of his bed and watched him eat, picking at his own bowl.

That’s not weird… is it? For him to join me? What am I supposed to do – kick him out? It doesn’t feel weird. Is it encouraging him too much, though?

-000-

“This disciple believes it’s time I stopped by the Demon Realm again, Shizun,” Binghe confided one morning. “Shang Qinghua said there’s rumours of a new demon lord taking over swathes of the Southern Demon Realm, and there’s whispers they were behind the sower demons in Jin Lan City.”

“Hmm, well I’m sure whoever they are they won’t pose much of a challenge for you, but be careful all the same, Binghe. But remember you don’t need to rule the entire demon realm if you don’t want to – it’ll just extend the time you need to keep using Xin Mo – so don’t get embroiled in any fights you can easily avoid.”

Binghe shook his head incredulously. “If they’re truly behind the sower demons, how could this lord let them walk free?”

Shen Qingqiu raised his eyebrows. “Is there much of a point when their plans have already been defeated?”

Binghe’s face darkened with anger. “They infected Shizun. They could have killed you, Shizun. They will pay.”

“Easy now,” he said, reaching over to stroke Binghe’s hair. “Stay in control of your emotions.”

Binghe melted instantly, his anger draining away like water poured on sand. He leant into Shen Qingqiu’s hand, and for the first time Shen Qingqiu paid attention to how Binghe turned his head and nuzzled into his palm, rubbing his head gently against his hand.

Maybe it’s Xin Mo’s influence. Maybe he needs… you know, papapa. From anyone close by. It might not even be personal, maybe he’s just around me too much and I’m the nearest person.

He coughed in embarrassment and gave him another more perfunctory pat on the head. “I’m sure Binghe will make the right choices and come back to me soon.”

“I will, Shizun. I will always come back to you. I won’t take any longer than is necessary.”

-000-

It had been three days, and the house was quiet again, a dead, empty silence that begged to be filled. Shen Qingqiu sat and read, marking up one of Shang Qinghua’s drafts with cinnabar red ink.

Another saccharine ending to a subplot, with the neglected daughter forgiving her sobbing parents for not believing in her and crippling her ambitions. It’s like he’s scared to write anyone suffering, now. I completely understand it, but it’s making for very bland scenes.

Shen Qingqiu heard a rustling in the kitchen and perked up. “Binghe? Are you back?”

He wandered into the kitchen. “Binghe?”

There was no-one there. No-one human, anyway. A diamond-patterned green snake was slithering over the windowsill and had knocked a small jar over.

“Hello little fellow,” he said softly, picking up a broomstick from where it leant against a nearby wall. “Let’s get you outside, hey? Easy now. You’re a Diamond-Scaled Tree Snake, am I right? What are you doing up on Qing Jing Peak at such an altitude, hmm?”

His eyes carefully on the scaly visitor entangled on the broomstick’s bristles, he leant over the kitchen counter and poked the end of the broom outside the window, then gave it a gentle shake to dislodge his guest without harming it.

A second snake, unseen, dropped onto his back from above – it must have been hanging off the top of the window frame. It bit into his back with sharp fangs, the razor-sharp tips slicing through both cloth and skin in a single bite.

He dropped the broom out the window and stumbled back in shock, flailing at his back.

“Fuck!”

The snake dropped to the ground, and as his back started throbbing with a burning sensation like acid searing through his veins, he suspected he was in real trouble. Studying the pattern and colouration of the new snake turned that suspicion into a certainty. It was jet black and had a scattering of tiny white dots all across its back, like a painter had flicked a brush to litter it with a fine spray of white paint. It reared up and hissed at him as he collapsed to the floor, its curved fangs displayed in threat.

A Thousand Nights Dream Cobra! Fuck!

“Ming Fan!” he called out optimistically. “MING FAN!”

He didn’t arrive; no footsteps hurried towards him. Ming Fan didn’t hover like Binghe did. He’d be off teaching calligraphy around about now.

As his eyes fluttered, and his body started draining of energy – almost like a sudden attack of Without a Cure, though he wasn’t due for one – he made a sword seal with his hands and with an effort that made him gasp he plucked a single leaf off one of Binghe’s potted herbs and sharpened its edges with qi.

He used it to quickly carve a single character into the wooden floorboards – 蛇 – snake. Then he tried propelling it towards the rearing snake in question, but lost control of it halfway there as his qi congealed in his meridians with the absolute worst timing. The leaf fluttered to the ground, useless and soft.

“Ming Fan…” he called weakly, trying to crawl away. “Binghe… help…”

As he lost consciousness, he heard steady, unhurried footsteps approaching through the Bamboo House, and relief filled his heart that someone would arrive soon to find and help him.

His eyes fluttered closed and his head clonked on the floor as he fell into a thousand dreams.

Chapter Text

Shen Qingqiu drifts in dreams of his life.

He sits at a desk in school kicking his little legs as he writes out a long list of words in English, frowning at the ridiculously inconsistent spelling. He doesn’t want to go into the family business like his brothers do, so he doesn’t see why it is that useful a language. He shrugs. At least I’ll be able to watch more shows and listen to lots of music and understand what they’re singing!

His little sister laughs as she pats her new hairdo and finds the tiny braid he’d sneakily woven into her hair. Meimei, you look so cute!

He takes down a poster from his wall of Xiao Zhi turned to stone with Pikachu weeping over his too-still body, to make room for some fanart of a young orphan boy in green and white robes, kneeling and looking up pitifully as his sneering teacher holds a dripping teacup over his head. I hope he gets his revenge one day.

He sits on his sofa as he browses the internet on his phone, tapping out some constructive criticism that he hopes his favourite author will appreciate. He feels too tired today to leave his house or do anything much. In the background the television blares out the mechanical clanks of a lumbering mecha. It’s too quiet in here without something on. I hate the silence; it reminds me of how alone I am.

Filled with rage and disappointment, he glares angrily at his laptop, stuffing his face with a pork bun while he types venomous words. He chokes as a mouthful goes down the wrong way, and clutches at his throat in panic. It wasn’t supposed to end like this! Dumbfuck author! Dumbfuck novel!

He lies shivering on the ground, his head cradled in someone’s bony lap. He sobs like his heart is breaking in a tragic show of emotion but doesn’t feel an ounce of sadness as he calls pitifully for his imaginary lost mother. I’m so hungry.

Shizun…!

A skinny older boy makes a covert hand sign that he’s going to act as a decoy, and nods discreetly in the direction of a well-dressed man. While they’re distracted by his friend’s fake racking cough, he moves in and goes for their mark’s pockets. You’re too noble and too clumsy to steal, but that’s alright. I’ll do it for us.

He struggles to break free of a taller boy’s restraining arms, desperate to kick a fellow street child who mocks and taunts him. Bastard! Fuck you! Who’re you calling your Qi-ge?! He’s not yours, he’s mine!

He kneels on the floor clad in coarse clothes, crestfallen, his hands tightly tied with a thick, rough rope. Stuck down here in the dark again! He’s never coming back for me. I have waited so long…

Wait for me, I’ll find you!

He cowers obediently and silently watches blood drip onto the richly patterned rug he kneels on, while someone kicks and beats him and calls him a filthy beast. He’s probably dead in a ditch somewhere. When I get out of here, I’ll search to the ends of the earth for his remains and dig him a grave with my bare hands. If he’s still alive, I’ll risk my own life to save his.

His skin crawls as he creeps into a young girl’s room. Exhausted, he clutches at her richly embroidered robes as she pats his head and coos over him. I’ll be safe here. He can’t fucking touch me when I’m with her. I can sleep here.

Shizun, where are you?!

He is kicked on the back of his knees, and falls face-first onto the floor, bleeding again. Qiu Jianluo stands up and snarls at him for his ingratitude for all he’s taught him. His master grabs him tightly by the hair and croons in his ear about how Wu Yanzi offers nothing but tricks and lies, so he should learn his place. There’s a sword on the wall…

A mansion goes up in flames, and he smiles. I’m free.

He swings a sword at a young man glad in golden robes and ignores the spray of warm blood that hits his face. He indifferently loots a qiankun pouch from their waist while they gasp their last breath. A painfully familiar rangy boy – when did you get so tall, Qi-ge?! – in black and grey robes steps out of some bushes and looks at him in wide-mouthed shock. He grabs a signal flare off the fallen corpse and sets it off unhesitatingly with a touch of qi. Gold fireworks burst in the sky, and as he stares he thinks he’s never seen something so beautiful as that shining moment. The trees rustle behind him, and a man laughs cruelly as he steps out to join them. I’ll save you!

He holds Zhao-jie’s soft – safe – warm hand as she leads him upstairs while the mellow sounds of guzheng music echo comfortingly through the air. “Of course I understand, A-Jiu,” she murmurs. “You don’t have to say any more if you don’t want to. All of us girls here have our own sad stories to tell.” He sighs with pleasure as she curls up behind him in bed with her soft arm over his waist, and he knows it is safe to sleep at last.

He pulls away harshly from the beautiful young cultivator that he’d ended up fighting back-to-back with, revolted by the unwanted press of the man’s lean, hard body against his own. He shoots a qi blast of pure energy over the man’s shoulder, dispersing the white wisp of an angry spirit. Sword in hand, the man turns on him and attacks with a hateful snarl that ruins his pretty face. Typical idiot brute. I should never have expected anything from you except betrayal and disappointment.

He wears elegant teal and emerald robes as he and others watch a young boy in ragged clothing dig a hole. Ning Yingying is excited at the thought of having a shidi, and he’s the best of a sorry lot; he’d be wasted as a feral brat on Bai Zhan. I want that child. What?! Even over this you’re judging me with a distrustful sneer, Qi-ge?! Fuck you! You even care more for this unknown brat than for me?!

He staggers from a woodshed with blood on his hands, his head awhirl with self-hatred, and his qi raging through his meridians like liquid fire as he lurches towards the safety of home. I’m the one who is like A-Luo. Right now I’m just as bad as he ever was; I wish I could start over again. Fuck this life, and fuck Qi-ge! I wish I was dead. Fuck the heavens and the gods themselves for writing me this shit fate with crippled fucking cultivation!

He hears a strange, stilted voice in his head, as his fever rages. [Memory badly damaged, data loss at 5%; data loss at 7%; data loss at 9%...]

He wakes, and a tall stranger in black and grey robes asks how he’s feeling while a mechanical voice speaks of B-Points in his mind. What is going on… where is he? Oh, I transmigrated!

-000-

What? This isn’t Qian Cao, it doesn’t smell of bitter herbs and vinegar, was his first muzzy thought upon waking, closely followed by a burst of panic.

Shit, did I die? I don’t want to transmigrate again! Where am I?

He cracked his eyes open just a sliver to try and get a sense of where he was; hopefully who he was hadn’t changed! His gaze was bleary and he couldn’t see much, but there seemed to be some light, and a brown-ish roof somewhere above him; he was somewhere indoors. He closed them again, pretending to still be asleep, trying to figure out what was going on. He was pretty sure he wasn’t still in his Bamboo House nor at Qian Cao, but that still left a lot of places in the world he could be.

Was there a snake? Shit! I got bitten! He remembered now, it had been a Thousand Nights Dream Cobra! Did I fall into a coma for three years?! If someone just fucked me awake I will literally kill them.

He kept his breathing calm and quiet and strained his ears, trying to figure out if anyone was in the room with him. Thankfully his body felt untouched, if tired. As he lay still, the memories of all the dreams he’d had in his too-long sleep whirled in his head as they rushed back to the forefront of his mind. Overwhelmed, with his head aching, he curled up on the soft bed beneath him and let out an involuntary whine.

Qi-ge! Meimei! Zhao-jie!

Some of those memories were his, Shen Yuan’s, but the others… they were… they were also his.

He let out a sob of relief that he had regained only a few memories of Qiu Jianluo, just enough to hint at the many reasons he should be glad he’d forgotten most of his current life. Even with all his dreams stitched together there weren’t more than a handful of memories of being Shen Jiu, perhaps a few days or a week at most; it was hard to judge the length of a sequence of hazy dreams. He still felt very much like Shen Yuan at heart, but it was increasingly hard to deny that a small part of him was also Shen Jiu. Perhaps had always been him, for forgotten decades until his System had dragged his past self’s memories to the fore to take over.

He died much like I did, cursing the world and the author of his fate as he qi-deviated. Hah! We both died cursing Shang Qinghua. I wonder… but no. If he’s really a god surely he wouldn’t be so pathetic. Right?

“Is gongzi awake at last?” a soft female voice asked. “I will fetch my masters!”

There was a soft patter of footsteps retreating from his vicinity, and he pretended to lie still and asleep again.

“Excellent, you are awake!” a young man’s voice said. “This one has been trying to awaken you for days now, Immortal Master Shen. The venom took longer to clear from your blood than I had hoped.”

Busted.

He opened his eyes, which took more effort than he’d expected, and blinked as he lifted his heavy head to gaze at the speaker, a handsome young man with kind, intelligent, golden-brown eyes. He was unfamiliar to him, though something about the eyes looked a little familiar despite their unusual shade.

He decided to skip straight past the ‘who’, ‘where’, and ‘how’, and go straight for the important question.

“Why was I kidnapped?”

“Ah! Begging Immortal Master Shen’s forgiveness for the indignity, it is intended as a kindness, to keep you safe while my uncle destroys the Four Sects and merges our two realms together. As you were kind to me once at Bai Lu Mountain, I believe Immortal Master Shen’s gentlemanly behaviour should be repaid by a flood of kindness. This Zhuzhi-Lang is at your service to protect and shelter you through the upcoming troubled times.”

“I remember you, I think, though you look very different now. You were the snake demon, right? If you wish to repay me for that kindness of sparing you when Gongyi Xiao wished to kill you, restoring me to my Sect would be ample repayment.”

But Zhuzhi-Lang shook his head. “That kindness was greatly eclipsed by your assistance in obtaining the Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom for my lord’s sake. I owe you far more. Now please, lie still while I clear more of the venom from your blood; it is this one’s first time utilizing my power in such a way and has proven more challenging than expected. However, Immortal Master Shen has awoken after only two weeks, which is excellent! Though if you would prefer to sleep through the coming calamities for the next year or two, this one would be happy to let his efforts lapse? You would be perfectly safe in my care.”

“No! No, please don’t, this master would much rather be awake,” he pleaded courteously.

There was a tingling in his body, and the numb heavy feeling in his body and his head started to recede.

He laboriously pushed himself up to a sitting position and looked around. He appeared to be inside some kind of luxuriously large canvas tent, furnished with a proper bed, plush carpets overlapping each other to form a floor, an ornate folding screen and cupboard, a very small bookshelf filled with books (half of them with tellingly yellow covers that hinted at their risqué contents), a guqin on a small side table, and a wooden table set with four chairs. A couple of snakes slithered across the floor as he watched, darting into nooks and folds in the rugs, and under his bed.

“Is it safe to get up?” he asked warily.

“This one would appreciate it if Immortal Master Shen would stay under my protection and meet my uncle. Immortal Master Shen is of course welcome to rise and dress so he can join us for tea.”

Zhuzhi-Lang smiled, and it was a calm smile that reminded him of Yue Qingyuan; the practised smile of a political animal who knew how to bullshit politely.

Stay calm, Shen Qingqiu, he encouraged himself. You’ve been in worse fixes than this.

“This is all very courteous and no doubt thoughtful of you, but you won’t take me home?”

“It would not be safe,” Zhuzhi-Lang insisted. “We are in the midst of my uncle’s army, in the Southern Demon Realm near the border. Immortal Master Shen is a very long way from home, surrounded by demons who are no friends to cultivators. Also, when we do reach Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, it would be best for you to be sequestered away from the fighting. I appreciate your older loyalties may tempt you to participate in the battle, but it will not be permitted.”

He nodded his understanding. When he realised that he was clad in only a thin cream underrobe, he rose from the bed and walked shakily to the wardrobe, lurching slightly like a foal taking its first steps. “If honoured Zhuzhi-Lang would give this one privacy to change, it would be appreciated.”

I’ll be damned if I’ll just sit around waiting for rescue ever again. I’m going to talk, sneak, or fight my way out of this. The first step is getting dressed.

“This one will wait outside for you.”

The contents of the wardrobe were all very fashionable… if you were a demon. He couldn’t find his own robes in there, but there were lots of options if you liked ominous jet-black robes and blood-red silks and wanted your clothes to show off a lot of skin. Still, anything was better than xianxia underwear! Moving a snake aside he selected a relatively plain black robe with silver embroidery that unfortunately gaped at the chest. His cream underrobe clashed terribly and smelt rather ripe, so he swapped it out for a black sheer silk robe that looked like something someone like Sha Hualing would wear as outerwear, but no human would dare to don outside of a brothel. And he would know! Anyway, as an underlayer the near-transparent dark gauze ended up looking nice peeking out from under his cuffs and hem and covered up the bared triangle of his chest comfortingly.

He was just shaking a snake out of some matching black boots – luckily in his size – when from the other side of the paper changing screen, he heard people approaching his tent.

“Is gongzi ready to receive guests?” a young woman’s voice asked politely.

“Just a minute!” he called, fixing his shoes and adjusting his silver-on-black belt before stepping out from behind the changing screen.

There’d been no sign of Xiu Ya or any weapons stored anywhere, unfortunately, not even a fan or a leafy plant he could harvest to turn its leaves into razor-sharp darts. Still, all it would take would be taking down one minion and then he’d be armed, and with luck it would be a spiritual sword and he could fly out of here before anyone was the wiser!

His visitors were waved in by a female demon with dark skin and legs like a gazelle. Zhuzhi-Lang entered first, followed by a second imposing demon also emblazoned with the scarlet zuiyin of the heavenly demon line – this could only be Binghe’s father!

He bowed politely – there was no point ruining a chance at negotiating his freedom before they even got started – and Zhuzhi-Lang did the honours of introducing them to each other.

“My lord, may I introduce to you Peak Lord Shen of Qing Jing Peak, the one whose drop of kindness must be repaid with a flood. Immortal Master Shen, Demon Emperor Tianlang-Jun of the Southern Demon Realm, my honoured uncle.”

Tianlang-Jun nodded his head. “Qing Jing Peak Lord, it’s an honour to meet you at last.”

Binghe had his father’s eyes, deep set and dark, with long eyelashes, but apart from the zuiyin and other marks of demonic heritage like black talon-like nails and pointed ear tips, their countenances, while both handsome, were not much alike. Tianlang-Jun also looked a little unwell or injured; he could see sickly violet-black bruises on the pale skin of his arms and creeping out from beneath his collar.

“The honour is mine,” he said politely. It was rather cool to meet him! Still, he was nervous about what it all portended. “I am pleased to be able to visit the Demon Realm, though I do hope I will be permitted to return home soon.”

“In company, perhaps, but not on your own, Peak Lord Shen,” Tianlang-Jun said, with a smile that looked a great deal like Binghe’s own mischievous grin. “My nephew has been quite insistent for some months that we extend our hospitality to you.”

His eyes drifted down to the sword at Tianlang-Jun’s waist, and his eyes widened at the sight of a familiar black sheath. “Is that Xin Mo?” he blurted out, before he could stop himself.

Tianlang-Jun laughed. “Indeed it is!” he said, patting the sheath at his side and sitting down at the table. “It was traded to me in exchange for your safe return.”

A tight tension across his shoulders that he hadn’t even noticed was there fell away at those words, and he sat down at the table too, with a relieved smile. The gazelle demon scurried to serve the three of them tea, then bowed as she backed out of the room.

“I am very pleased to hear it,” he said, letting his tea cool. “When will I be returned to my sect?”

“You won’t be,” Tianlang-Jun replied, still smiling.

His eyebrows rose in shock. “You traded me for Xin Mo… but you’re not honouring your bargain? Cang Qiong Mountain Sect won’t stand for that. Don’t you realise the war you’re courting?”

“Don’t realise it? Peak Lord Shen, I am counting on it. There’s no better way to rid the world of the most combative, demon-hating cultivators in one fell swoop! Any from the Four Sects – and any rabble who accompany them – who will be obstacles to my plan to unite the realms will fall. Barring your good self, of course, as my nephew insists on repaying your kindness with his own benevolent protection.”

He angrily crossed his arms and tried to ignore how Tianlang-Jun’s eyes flickered down to ogle his pectoral muscles under their gauzy silk covering, as if his chest was on display purely for others’ viewing pleasure.

Hello, my eyes are up here! he thought, outraged. It's not like I even have boobs! What’s with the cupboard full of wife trope outfits anyway?! This was the best option available!

“Are you not ashamed to have cheated your own son out of his hard-won sword?” he demanded angrily. “To have kidnapped his teacher, and be sitting there threatening to destroy the sect that has sheltered and raised him?”

“Ah, my son,” Tianlang-Jun said, blank-faced with an oddly indifferent tone to his voice. “Apparently he greatly resembles my traitorous late wife.”

“He has your eyes and your smile,” he replied, “and he doesn’t deserve to be treated in this manner.”

Tianlang-Jun ignored his chiding and plastered on a teasing expression. “Zhuzhi-Lang reported you had quite the masterful painting of this Luo Binghe hidden away in your bedroom like a dirty secret. Is there something I should know about you two, Peak Lord Shen?”

Shen Qingqiu couldn’t help how his cheeks pinked up. “I can’t have a painting of him with his demonic features on display where just anyone could see it!” he pointed out. “The risk would be too great.”

“So, no-one knows about him except for you then; he’s your shameful forbidden secret.”

“Two others know that I am aware of,” he admitted, then thought for a moment and mentally added in the possibility that the Old Palace Master might have told others. “Possibly more. One late individual may have told others before his death. And I expect a large number of assorted demons in the north know. I don’t believe he wants the world at large to know, but if he did, I would support him.” His chin jutted forward stubbornly.

“Hmm, so you say. You’ll take him to your bed but not make a place for him in your life. How long until you turn on him, I wonder?”

“I would n–” he began in outraged denial, before cutting himself off with a choking gasp as he remembered that he’d already betrayed Binghe to the depths of the Endless Abyss. Ai! He hadn’t wanted to! “I wouldn’t turn on him. And he’s not… we don’t sleep together. He’s my student.”

“Hmm. Interesting,” Tianglang-Jun said, sipping his tea.

Shen Qingqiu took a drink of his tea too, feeling very thirsty with a dry mouth. If they wanted to drug him, they would have had ample opportunities to do so while he slept so the risk was minimal.

“About Su Xiyan–” he began, but was swiftly cut off.

“I heard that painting of yours was quite the masterwork. Zhuzhi-Lang reports you are quite the master of all the Four Arts! I have long held an admiration for the writing and music of humankind.”

“His guqin playing is without peer, my lord,” Zhuzhi-Lang agreed.

“You should know that she didn’t betray–” he tried again.

Tianlang-Jun slammed his cup down so hard it shattered in a spray of tea and porcelain shards. “I believe it would be a lovely time for some music,” he said, in a calm voice that was a stark contrast to his actions. He picked some shards of his teacup out of his hand, and his skin sealed over instantly, under Shen Qingqiu’s fascinated gaze.

“My lord’s healing is quite remarkable,” he said politely. “I would be happy to play a song if afterwards we might return to the topic at hard. No matter how difficult the subject matter, there are things my lord is unaware of but should be told about.”

He finished in a hasty rush, not wanting to be cut off a third time.

“So be it,” the emperor agreed with a sigh. “I suppose you will be annoyingly persistent unless given the chance to spew your lies.”

“They’re not lies,” he bit out, “and that’s a fine accusation coming from you, given the manner in which you acquired Binghe’s sword.”

He stood up from the table and walked past Tianlang-Jun, wondering if it would be worth trying for the sword. Could he master it fast enough to cut a portal home to Binghe?

“Don’t even try it,” Tianlang-Jun warned, putting a hand on the sheath.

His skin was buzzing for some reason. A flare up, perhaps? Hopefully it was that. If one of them had infected him with blood mites he was going to be pissed.

“Of course not, my lord,” he lied. He totally would if he thought he could get away with it later on.

He has to sleep eventually, right?

“Escape is useless. You won’t be harmed here unlike the rest of the jianghu, so it would be best to become swiftly resigned to your soft captivity,” Tianlang-Jun warned.

He moved to the guqin, gritting his teeth. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he lied again, and pettily decided to pick a song pointing out the obvious insincerity of his words.

     “I want to break free
     I want to break free
     I want to break free from your lies
     You're so self-satisfied, I don't need you
     I've got to break free”

I don’t want to be here. I want to get back to Binghe; he must be so worried about me.

     “I've fallen in love, yeah
     Heaven knows, knows that I've fallen in love.

     It's strange but it's true, yeah
     I can't get over the way you love me like you do”

Binghe had forgiven him. Forgiven him for the worst kind of betrayal! He had a second chance for happiness in this life, and he didn’t want to waste it.

     “I can't get used to living without, living without
     Living without you by my side
     I don't want to live alone!”

Heartfelt pain echoed through his voice, and as he glanced over at his small audience he saw tears running down Tianlang-Jun’s face as he cried silently. He was a pretty crier, like Binghe was.

Those years without Binghe had been the hardest of his life. Only with his precious disciple back could he truly grasp how miserable he’d been without him, with colour returned to his grey-toned world, making every new day a vibrant source of joy.

Maybe… he cared for Binghe too.

After all, who wouldn’t? It’s impossible for someone beloved by the protagonist to reject him! It’s only natural. Inevitable.

There was slow applause at the end of his song. “Truly, Peak Lord Shen has the gift of composing or choosing songs that speak to a listener’s heart. You sang the story of my life and it pierced through my heart like an arrow. That was both beautiful and cruel, Peak Lord Shen.”

Killing him softly, he thought.

“I didn’t intend it to hurt you, my lord. Please can I tell you now the secrets of Luo Binghe’s birth and his mother’s life?”

Tianlang-Jun looked lost in memories. “It was music that first drew her to me, you know. She heard me singing and playing my guqin underneath a willow tree and was intrigued.”

He sighed and dabbed his face dry, recomposing himself swiftly. “Well, go on and speak of her too, if you must get it out of your system.”

Huh. My System’s been very quiet lately, come to think of it. Well, he’d worry (or rejoice!) about that later. He had a tale to tell.

The two demons sat stoically while he told what he knew of Su Xiyan’s betrayal and poisoning at the hands of the Old Palace Master, all second-hand information from Shang Qinghua, but hopefully reliable. He’d interrogated for Shang Qinghua for hidden lore multiple times back when he’d been desperate to earn all the B-Points he could; learning bits and pieces about Binghe’s family had been fascinating!

Tianlang-Jun frowned and turned to his nephew. “The Old Palace Master…?”

Zhuzhi-Lang caught his inquiring tone and answered, “He died in Jin Lan City – suddenly and conveniently – whilst in the midst of an argument with your son and Immortal Master Shen, my lord.”

“’Conveniently’? Was it your doing, nephew?”

“Not mine, my lord. I had hoped there might be an opportunity for you to personally revenge yourself upon him and his sect at a later date.”

Their eyes turned to Shen Qingqiu, who wished he had a fan on him right now to hide his face. He wore his best ‘untouchable immortal’ bland expression.

“Mu-shidi said it was a stroke, complicated by heart trouble,” he said blandly.

“You’ve shared so many ‘truths’, what is one more?” coaxed Tianlang-Jun. “Who would we tell, anyway? Would you want us to think you silenced him so your ludicrous story couldn’t be challenged, with the main culprit unable to be interrogated?”

Shen Qingqiu let out a frustrated huff. “I’ve told you only the truth about Su Xiyan.”

“I don’t believe you, but it’s nice to imagine it happened that way. I think it all very unlikely, and I do wonder how you purportedly learnt all these ‘facts’ no-one should know, given my absent and allegedly late wife died alone in your story. In any case, it won’t change my plans.”

He slapped his knees as he rose, and his nephew drew aside the flap of the tent door as they exited, stepping over a couple more snakes. Those things were everywhere!

Shen Qingqiu could only see a narrow glimpse of the outside – he judged it was late afternoon by the light outside, and he saw groups of demons gathered in their hundreds or thousands, dots of tents and campfires stretching out into the distance below where their current tent was perched high up on a slope.

“Thank you for the song, Peak Lord Shen. Do try and relax for the rest of today, as we will be on the move tomorrow morning.”

Zhuzhi-Lang hissed at his snakes as they departed, and across the tent many of them reared up attentively to listen to his commands.

Ai, what is this Parselmouth power! Unfair! I know some of those snake species, and I certainly don’t want to be bitten by them. Alright, so how can I get out of here then?

He rummaged optimistically in the sleeves of his robe, but neither was a hidden qiankun storage space, nor were any of the others in the wardrobe.

It’s a pity I don’t have a handy hidden inventory space to carry with me everywhere. Wait a second, System stored the jade Guanyin. I wonder if it can store and fetch stuff for me, maybe for some points. Or buy me a rescue, hah! Hey, System!

[…]

System? Hey System, I have some questions about your inventory space, and I was wondering if I could buy a scenario pusher to get me safely out of here, maybe? How many points for some realgar wine? Do you have a shop function?

[This System was MUTED. (•̀⤙•́) ]

That explained why it had been so quiet lately. But this wasn’t a good time for pouting!

Unmute, then. I’m sorry, System! Can I buy items, or maybe a rescue scene! A luxury scenario pusher, if I have the points for it. What do you say?

[Host should show more appreciation! The mute feature is intended only for use during climatic battles or intimate moments to reduce distractions!]

[Beginning backlog of messages. +20 protagonist satis–]

Seriously? I don’t need to know all those tiddly point gains and losses! I don’t really care about any of them! Just tell me what I can afford.

[ (•̀⤙•́) System will list only major point gains and losses over 200 B-Points.]

Sure! Thank you!

Boy, it was in a mood.

[+200 protagonist satisfaction points.]

[+300 protagonist satisfaction points.]

Not bad. And a slap in the face compared to all those measly one point gains it used to give him while it was dangling the hope of saving up ten thousand points to avoid the Endless Abyss arc.

[+500 protagonist heartbreak points.]

Ouch. Probably from his song not being appreciated properly.

[-1000 protagonist satisfaction points.]

He had a hunch this one meant Binghe wasn’t happy he’d been kidnapped. On the plus side, he must’ve had a little cushion of points accumulated to not die from that dramatic point loss! Or did that only happen with his B-Points?

[+200 protagonist satisfaction points.]

Good? Maybe? Whatever had gone on after he’d been kidnapped, Binghe was really happy about something.

[Plot hole-filling event “Shen Jiu”: complete! +300 B-Points]

Probably my dreams. He was trying to ignore the knowledge he’d gained, honestly. Repressing had been working great for him so far!

[Increased degree of story line completion and filled in hidden character list: B-Points +300. Activated plot hole-filling event: B-Points +100.]

System, what plot hole event is that?

[Motivation and history of Tianlang-Jun and Zhuzhi-Lang: the Demon Emperor and his Nephew.]

So, how about that inventory purchase or a rescue scenario pusher? Can I buy some realgar wine to take care of these snakes?

[This System is not a shop. User may only store key items temporarily when acquired. User may purchase a Small Scenario Pusher Luxury Edition to progress his escape.]

Shame. He’d been hoping to drug the snakes asleep and sneak out of here himself, maybe with some kind of cool disguise! Maybe a veil? He could tear apart one of the robes in the wardrobe!

Let’s gooo!

In the end he didn’t need to rip anything up, there was a perfectly serviceable scarf he could use as a veil.

Continuing his efforts to kickstart his own escape before relying on the dubious assistance of his System, he capitalised on his time unobserved by anything smarter than a snake and tried to make a new exit from his tent. He attempted to rip a hole at the bottom of the canvas tent, behind the shelter of the folding screen so it wouldn’t be noticed by someone walking in, but the cloth resisted his efforts like its durability had been heavily reinforced with talismans. Three snakes popped their heads up to hiss warningly at him, and he backed off.

How about that scenario pusher, then, can I afford one?

[Host has a surplus. -3000 B-Points for a Small Scenario Pusher Luxury Edition! Activating wife plot quest “Your Princess Is In Another Castle!”]

This isn’t a damn wife plot! he thought at it in outrage. I’d better not be the ‘princess’ in question! I’m the Scum Villain, or hopefully, the Trusted Mentor!

[Host’s designation is currently Love Interest.]

His face burned with the embarrassment that filled his entire body with shame. He sat down on the bed, ready to harangue his System with a long explanation of why he wasn’t just a love interest.

Suddenly, in a burst of black demonic qi like swirling smoke, Mobei-Jun suddenly teleported into the tent right next to the bed, with Shang Qinghua clinging to his arm.

Shen Qingqiu’s eyes widened. Yeah, that’ll do nicely! Good work, System!

[ (˶ˆᗜˆ˵) ]

“Watch out for the snakes,” he warned softly, “but don’t kill them; he might sense that. And stay quiet.”

He had a hunch all the controlled snakes had blood mites in them. Or, that they were tethered spiritually to Zhuzhi-Lang somehow. And if they weren’t, hey, they were cool and rare snakes that didn’t deserve to die!

Shang Qinghua slapped a hand over his own mouth to muffle his ‘eep’ of distress at seeing so many snakes hissing at him and clung tightly to his boyfriend’s arm. Mobei-Jun thrust his hands out dramatically to imprison many of the snakes in blobs of ice, leaving them alive but trapped.

“Are you sure that’s him?” Mobei-Jun said, looking Shen Qingqiu up and down.

Do all humans look alike to him?

“That’s him!” Shang Qinghua confirmed. “Hey, your Liu Mingyan obsession is showing, bro.”

“Shut up, the veil’s for a disguise,” he hissed.

It was good enough to fool Mobei-Jun! he thought defensively.

“Come,” Mobei-Jun ordered sternly, grabbing Shen Qingqiu’s arm.

It was an indignity that he chose to ignore, given the circumstances.

Mobei-Jun concentrated and wisps of black qi appeared around him again for a moment, before disappearing. The ice demon frowned and tried twice more, with a similar lack of success.

“Uh oh, that’ll be some array at work,” Shang Qinghua hissed warningly, and Mobei-Jun nodded his agreement and ceased his attempts. “Backup plan time.”

Mobei-Jun nodded again and, pausing only to flash freeze some more snakes into hibernation, started drawing a complicated runic array on the ground in his own blood.

Shen Qingqiu tilted his head. He was a bit crap at talismans and arrays, knowing only a handful of the more useful ones. “What’s that do, then?”

“Location beacon,” Shang Qinghua said. “Cang Qiong will come for us.”

“What did you tell them about your boyfriend then?”

“Fiancé,” Mobei-Jun corrected proudly, making Shang Qinghua go all mushy and cow-eyed.

I don’t need this dog food!

Shen Qingqiu prodded Shang Qinghua to snap him out of it.

“Huh? Oh, I told them he was a demonic contact I made through some shady trade deals for the sect. From Cang Qiong’s point of view, Mobei-Jun is my secret spy,” he said, cooing at the last bit and pinching his fiance’s cheeks roughly. Mobei-Jun just looked smugly pleased at the abuse, gazing into his eyes.

Shen Qingqiu coughed meaningfully, and Mobei-Jun unashamedly got back to work like he’d never stopped.

“Anyway, they didn't ask too many questions; they're desperate to get you back, bro, especially Luo Binghe. He even traded Xin Mo for your safe return, though you’ve probably already figured out that was a scam. Anyway, I’ve gotta say our illustrious sect leader is a close second fighting for that top spot of champion fretter, and Liu Qingge’s chomping at the bit in third place.”

“How did you find me here? And why are you here, when Mobei-Jun should in theory have been able to teleport me out of here on his own.”

Shang Qinghua puffed up proudly. “We scried for you! Do you remember... uh... ever reading about an ancient scrying mirror, guarded by a lonely weeping maiden stuck in a mirror maze?”

He nodded. Wife 214.

“Anyway, long story short, Binghe only knew you were asleep somewhere in a Demon Realm, but the sect’s own big scrying mirror can’t see into those, only the mortal realm. So Mobei-Jun and I went and got that smaller legendary mirror instead and used it to find you. Oh, and Yue Qingyuan doesn’t trust my king, so I’m like, officially guarding him at all times. I have to stick to him like glue.”

He wondered for a moment what they needed a homing beacon for if the others had the Mirror of Yearning and could scry for Shang Qinghua in turn, then remembered it would only work once a day to find the lost loved one, until the person scried for was kissed. Then it could be used to find a new loved one. Binghe had used it to locate only two kidnapped wives, until Airplane forgot about his MacGuffin and never used it again.

They waited for a moment in silence, sitting together on the bed while Mobei-Jun cut himself to provide more blood to paint his elaborate magic circle thing.

He looked at Shang Qinghua thoughtfully and poked his shoulder roughly, making him wobble slightly. “You’d tell me if you were a god, right?”

“Ahaha… what, seriously?” he asked with a laugh, as Shen Qingqiu glared at him. “I’m not a god! Why would you even think that?!”

“You know why,” he said, his eyes narrowed. “If you are, I want you to know I will pay you back a hundred-fold one day for my utterly shit childhood, even if I have to wait until we both ascend.”

“Weren’t you a fuerdai?” Shang Qinghua asked quietly, before his eyes widened in terrified realisation.

He flailed his hands, waving them in a panic. “Wait, no. Bro! Bro, trust me! I didn’t do anything like that! I couldn’t, I would never! Don’t blame me for the workings of heaven! I’m just an ordinary cultivator, and our miraculous appearance to save you was just because y’know… like a quest! The peak lords all agreed I’d scout for you! This wasn’t even the first place – or even the tenth place – that Mobei-jun and I looked for you! We got lucky with me remembering about the mirror!”

Shang Qinghua reached out to grab him by both shoulders. “Bro… Shen Qingqiu… you’re with me, right? Your head is straight? Any memory problems? This literally can’t be happening!”

Shen Qingqiu leant back and slapped his hands away. “Don’t touch me! And don’t panic, yes, I remember you, and your terrible writing. I just had some dreams that brought up a few things from my past… that’s all.”

Mobei-jun slapped his hand down on the array and pushed a flare of demonic qi into it that made the complex lines flare up and pulse repetitively with a dark purple light. He moved over to them and yanked Shang Qinghua off the bed so the rat could cower behind his imposing bulk. “No-one strikes Shang Qinghua but me.”

Shen Qingqiu sniffed dismissively and turned his back to the demon lord. “Like I’d want to touch him. Who knows where he’s been.” He wished he had one of his fans with him right now. At least he had a veil!

“I’m hurt, bro.”

“Watch how much I don’t care right now. Thanks to that stupid venom I’ve been lost in dreams and nightmares, stuck in a coma for the past week or something,” he said, then spun back to face them both. “Now, enough of that nonsense. Did you bring Xiu Ya, by any chance? What’s next in our escape plan?”

Tianlang-Jun pushed aside the tent flap and entered, and two blood-red translucent wolves trotted in too, flanking him with jerky steps. Their paws squished oddly as they crossed the floor, almost like they were liquid pressed into a solid shape; they reminded him of raspberry jelly.

Are they made of blood?! That’s so cool!

“Whatever plan you had in mind, I suggest you cancel it. It ends here,” Tianlang-Jun pronounced grandly.

Zhuzhi-Lang peeked out from behind him, looking at Shen Qingqiu with hurt eyes – too much like Binghe’s! – on seeing the intruders and his poor frozen snakes.

Shit. We were much too loud.

Chapter Text

With only a brief glance at Shang Qinghua, who nodded curtly back at him, Mobei-Jun instantly leapt forward to fight, peppering both heavenly demons and the two blood-wolves with a spray of ice shards.

Shen Qingqiu looked at his shidi too. “Do you have a third plan, perhaps?” he asked optimistically, his skin crawling as his body suffused with panic, freezing him in place.

“Store the time!” Shang Qinghua ordered, in accented bad English. He leapt off the bed and drew his sword, then whirled about with surprising agility and cut down the poor frozen snakes Zhuzhi-Lang was freeing.

Wait. That’s not panic! Shen Qingqiu gasped as he collapsed back on the bed, his numb limbs suddenly not answering to his commands. Well, fighting might be ruled out, but he could still help stall verbally!

“Blood mites,” he spat out. “This is your kind repayment, Zhuzhi-Lang?”

Mobei-Jun sliced a wolf in two – though it just glooped back together – then lashed out at Tianlang-Jun, who smiled as the second wolf leapt up in the way of his blow, splattering them both with a spray of blood.

“Close your mouth!” Shen Qingqiu ordered, in sudden panic. “Mobei-Jun, clean off the blood fast! Use your ice!”

“Do it, my king!” Shang Qinghua yelled, distracted.

“It really is all for the best,” Zhuzhi-Lang said calmly, scooping up a few injured snakes and dropping them protectively inside his robes. One in decent condition he looked at assessingly before he threw it directly at Shang Qinghua.

“Haah!” Qinghua yelled, lashing out with his sword at the snake. He caught its tail tip – enough to throw it off course, but Zhuzhi-Lang was fast behind it, moving in with razor-sharp claws ready to rend his flesh.

“Shang Qinghua’s my best friend, Zhuzhi-Lang! If you feel you owe me, please don’t hurt him!” Shen Qingqiu shouted.

Confusion to my enemies!

Shang Qinghua didn’t hesitate to still try to skewer Zhuzhi-Lang, but the snake demon seemed more uncertain about the fight now. He curled his hands up into tight fists and bit his lip in hesitation. No, not in hesitation, there was blood on his mouth now, and dripping from both hands where his talons had dug into the meaty flesh of his palms.

“As Immortal Master prefers,” Zhuzhi-Lang said, moving back to spar with Qinghua, “however, do not think to spare all your sect siblings’ lives with such a plea.”

“Blood mites!” he warned.

“I know, bro, I know!” Qinghua shouted back, before pressing his lips tightly together and battling in dead silence without even a huff of breath escaping his mouth. He even used a flash of qi to make an energy seal over his mouth; a technique usually used as a much larger emergency shield against qi blasts. Even small and localised it would be very draining and Qinghua probably wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long. Shen Qingqiu was honestly impressed he could use it at all! It required good spiritual reserves and focused will. Without a Cure had sadly nixed his ability to do such tricks himself.

Zhuzhi-Lang had a self-sacrificing style of duelling only a heavenly demon would dare try. When faced with life-threatening blows he caught his opponent’s sword with his bare hands reinforced with purple-black demonic qi. He deflected or blocked most of the worst attacks, but he didn’t hesitate to continue his strategy even when a lucky blow bit into his skin. The less vicious attacks he didn’t bother defending against at all! He would move into them, letting them cut into his torso or limbs, angling himself so that the resultant blood spray would splatter across his enemy’s body. Shang Qinghua’s robes seemed to repel the blood, however, and it slid off the fabric like it’d been coated in Teflon. When a splatter hit Qinghua’s face, however, he wiped it off frantically with a sleeve whenever he could seize a moment to spare.

Shen Qingqiu, his head stiff and hard to move, his blood burning in his veins and immobilizing him into a near-useless mannequin, rolled his eyes to check how the other fight was going.

On the surface it looked like Mobei-Jun was winning; the blood-wolves were immobile quivering blobs of jelly, and Tianlang-Jun was bleeding from multiple stab wounds where icicles had skewered him through. On top of that, one of the demon emperor’s arms had been completely severed and was lying on the ground in a pool of blood.

On the other hand, however, Mobei-Jun had collapsed to the ground and was groaning in pain, clutching at his stomach in agony, and Tianlang-Jun hadn’t even bothered to draw Xin Mo yet.

“Your father served me loyally, once,” Tianlang-Jun said conversationally, picking his severed arm back up and calmly holding it in place against the ruined stump near his shoulder, waiting for his blood to stitch his body back together. “I hope you have the sense to do the same, Mobei-Jun, if you wish to keep your lands and your title. I heard you have an alliance with my son; you had best give that up if you want to live.”

Shen Qingqiu exerted his will to try and pull Xin Mo off his belt while he was distracted, hoping to maybe suck it away into System’s inventory if he could secure it – it was surely a Key Item, right? – but it resisted his qi like it was nothing more than the brush of a feather.

He tried yanking at other objects in the room with his qi – use the force, Luke! – but couldn’t get a good grip on them like was possible with a spiritual sword or the ease with which he manipulated bits of plants with his practiced Plucked Leaves Flying Flowers technique. If he – Shen Jiu – had ever mastered more than that (and he recalled dreaming that he’d once been good at manipulating metal), he’d lost those abilities in the wake of ruined meridians due to repeated qi deviations, and also Wu Yanzi’s crippling flawed mentorship in cultivation before that.

Shang Qinghua was fighting like a dervish, throwing out wild attacks at both Zhuzhi-Lang and Tianlang-Jun, but it seemed inevitable that he’d lose. The odds were not in his favour, outnumbered by two heavenly demons.

“Deal with the pest if you want him to live, nephew,” Tianlang-Jun drawled, sounding bored as he deflected Shang Qinghua’s attacks with smooth sweeps of his hands (the reattached one was now fully functional again).

Shang Qinghua bent over to try and pick Mobei-Jun up; from the way he’d dropped his sword to have it hover and inch above the ground it looked like he was going to try and make a run for it.

Shen Qingqiu couldn’t blame him for that; self-preservation was natural, and he wasn’t shocked to be left behind. A little disappointed, maybe, but not shocked.

“Hey! Over here!” he called out. “Don’t you want to know why those two are working together so loyally? A demon and a peak lord?” An obvious distraction maybe, but it sufficed to catch Tianlang-Jun’s attention for a moment.

Zhuzhi-Lang, unfortunately, wasn’t as distractable. As Shang Qinghua hopped on his sword, his arms laden with his king’s frozen body, the demon leapt upon him with his hands full of blood. The scarlet zuiyin on his brow blazed fiercely, as he tackled Qinghua off his sword.

“I am a little interested,” Tianlang-Jun conceded, while with a wave of his hands he puppeted Mobei-Jun into stumbling robotically out of Shang Qinghua’s desperate clutching hands. “Go on.”

“They’ve been courting for years,” Shen Qingqiu said, wondering if this was distracting him at all. “They got engaged really recently. They’re in love, look at them! Don’t you feel any mercy for them?”

Shang Qinghua stumbled and pushed Zhuzhi-Lang off him, and twisted his hands in a sword seal, making his sword Xiao Niao float up to try and skewer his opponent.

Zhuzhi-Lang grinned, his sharp teeth stained red with his own blood, and let it run him right through, catching on his ribcage so that Qinghua couldn’t pull it free. He slammed into Shang Qinghua and grabbed his head roughly, holding a palm full of blood over his nose.

“Well, he’s trying to save his beloved,” Tianlang-Jun said, sounding wistful and a little envious. “What would you do for my son, I wonder? Ah, but it would be best if you transferred your affections. How do you feel about considering Zhuzhi-Lang as a cultivation partner? He’s a sweet boy really, if a little foolish at times.”

He didn’t look especially sweet at the moment, grunting in pain as Qinghua sawed his sword through his torso, trying to do as much damage as possible. It was well and truly stuck between his ribs, however, especially with their bodies pressed so close together.

Shang Qinghua flailed for something in his sleeve and threw it towards where Tianlang-Jun stood in the doorway.

“Su Xiyan would have fought for you if she could have. Shang Qinghua can tell you more about her,” Shen Qingqiu said hurriedly, trying to distract him from whatever his shidi’s last ditch attack was.

However, Tianlang-Jun simply stepped smoothly to one side and let the small, rolled cylinder of something-or-other (probably a rare poison) go sailing past him.

Shang Qinghua went limp in Zhuzhi-Lang’s arms, the blood mites having finally spread enough for the demon to control him. He was laid down next to Mobei-Jun on a blood-splattered carpet while Zhuzhi-Lang worked Qinghua’s sword out of his ribcage with a horrible squelch and the grating noise of metal on bone.

Qinghua let out a gasp as he let the now-useless energy shield over his mouth lapse, and said in broken English, “Go boom New Year!”

Zhuzhi-Lang gave him a suspicious look, and Shang Qinghua’s mouth was promptly forcefully snapped shut.

But it was too late, Shen Qingqiu had figured out what his shidi was trying to get him to do. He’d even recently done what was being hinted at… in a dream.

With a burst of directed qi, he made a spark to set off the firework that Qinghua had thrown not at Tianlang-Jun, but at the canvas doorway he was standing in front of, giving it a little System-aided push to boot.

It wouldn’t be very dramatic for it to just fizzle out in here now, would it? Wouldn’t it look cool bursting above a demonic army as a signal flare to lead rescuers right to us? he wheedled, grateful that time sort of slowed a little when he was in discussion with his System. Take some of my points and make that happen!

[+50 B-Points for increase of Shang Qinghua’s coolness level. -300 B-Points for a Small Scenario Pusher – Basic Edition. +200 B-Points for progressing wife plot quest “Your Princess Is In Another Castle!” First checkpoint completed!]

With a high-pitched squeal it rocketed through the entrance trailing butter-yellow sparks as it flew off, and from the sounds of the loud bang and crackle of sparks, it presumably then exploded somewhere up in the sky above them.

He smiled smugly beneath his veil, his eyes crinkling up in pleasure. He might not be able to move a single limb, but even in this proto-pickle form he still wasn’t useless and could contribute to his own rescue.

“Cunning little things, aren’t they?” Tianlang-Jun mused, cracking his neck and massaging his own shoulder joints and flexing his fingers as if preparing for a real fight. “Well, I imagine we’ll have more company soon. Let this be a lesson to you, nephew, never underestimate a cultivator’s capacity for duplicity. Let’s put them all to sleep for now.”

“Yes, Junshang.”

There was a dizzying pressure in the veins in his neck, and Shen Qingqiu promptly passed out.

-000-

[+200 B-Points for progressing wife plot quest “Your Princess Is In Another Castle!” Second checkpoint completed!]

Shen Qingqiu awoke on the same bed as before, almost as confused as last time, with his mouth tasting like blood and the air filled with the noise of battle as people and demons yelled and yowled outside, and weapons clashed with the sharp ring of metal on metal. Someone was holding his hand, and he turned his tired, aching head to see Luo Binghe kneeling alone at the side of his bed.

“Shizun!” he gasped, squeezing his hand joyfully. His forehead was aglow with his scarlet mark, and his pointier canines were on display as he smiled.

“Binghe came for me,” he said muzzily. A slow smile dawned on his face. He came to rescue me.

Alright, saving himself would have been better, but he’d helped a little, right, helping set off a signal flare? And you can’t undermine the protagonist’s badassery by just waltzing out of captivity on your own! It was probably always going to be like this.

He felt a little begrudging that he – a very cool cultivator in his own right – hadn’t managed to escape even with two friends helping him. But another part of him, a small, broken part, could feel nothing but bone-deep ecstatic joy that someone had come to save him at last. Not because the System made them, but because they chose to. And Binghe wouldn’t fail. Binghe would get him out of here.

“Shizun, I’m so sorry I left you!” Binghe gasped, bowing his head and pressing his forehead to the back of Shen Qingqiu’s hand. “I didn’t want to ever leave you; I was looking into rumours of this new Demonic Emperor in the south and the sower demons. I would have come back sooner, but then I got distracted in a sage’s library in the North reading about heavenly demon bloodline powers. If I’d been home, you could never have been kidnapped! Please forgive this useless disciple!”

“Silly thing,” he chided tiredly, patting Binghe’s always temptingly fluffy head, “thinking that this master would blame you for that! My capture was due to my own inattentiveness.”

“Shizun never put up arrays around his home against demons because of me-e-e!” Binghe sobbed.

“If I had a fan I would smack you with it right now,” he said sternly, pulling his hands free and pushing himself up to a seated position. His head swam with a momentary dizziness, and his veins tingled with an odd creeping sensation he was growing to recognise as the work of blood mites. He looked down at his body and was pleased to find he hadn’t been undressed this time; he was wearing the same black layers of robes as before, though his improvised veil was missing.

“Binghe fed me his blood?” he checked, looking over at his disciple. He looked very repentant… or a good facsimile of it.

With his head bowed, Binghe was holding out Xiu Ya, and also his formerly lost fan with his painting of Hatsune Miku as a tempting siren lounging on a rock at the seashore.

“Asking Shizun for discipline; this unworthy disciple did feed you his blood,” Binghe admitted, “but only because Shizun would not wake up even when shaken! This one suspected the influence of the other demons’ blood mites but also found lingering traces of a new poison in Shizun’s veins that made it harder for him to wake. Shizun is always getting poisoned for this unworthy one’s sake!”

Shen Qingqiu took Xiu Ya with relief, and took the folded fan too, immediately thwapping Binghe on the head with it three times. “Shame on you! You should have taken me to Mu-shidi! The venom could have been easily countered with the right medicine! And stop blaming yourself for the workings of fate!”

Binghe looked delighted rather than repentant, to be struck and chided.

Don’t enjoy this! he thought, aghast. What are you, a raging masochist?

“Enough,” he said sternly, tucking his fan habitually away in his sleeve, and startling as the weight dropped into the loose fabric instead of disappearing into a hidden qiankun storage space. Ai! He’d really gotten too spoilt.

Infodump time, please! This master wants to know what’s going on.

“Did you come here on your own? I can hear the battle outside… what’s going on? Have you seen your shishu and his fiancé? We all have to get out of here before my captors come back… and Binghe…” he hesitated, but it had to be said, “you may have to fight your father, Tianlang-Jun, who has your sword. Your cousin, Zhuzhi-Lang, as well.”

“Shizun, I traded Xin Mo for you, but he reneged on the deal!” Binghe said, sounding outraged. “Zhangmen-shibo is battling that lying scoundrel – he’s no father of mine I only had a mother – and Liu-shishu is there too, and Qi-shishu, and well… everyone! All the peak lords, and a lot of inner disciples are coming too, even some people from other sects have rallied to Cang Qiong’s call as well. I know people were looking for Shang-shishu; I’m sure someone will find him.”

Gege came too! He came for me! It was almost unbelievable.

“They know to be careful of blood contamination?” he fretted. “What if Qi-ge gets blood in his mouth?”

Binghe hesitated briefly, then replied, “The peak lords warned everyone. Zhangmen-shibo has fought him before, after all. Many of us have cleansing talismans stitched into our robes to repel blood, and he is also wearing a warded weimao as well.”

He nodded. If he’d personally been around for the original fight that had sealed Tianlang-Jun he couldn’t remember it, and Airplane had never mentioned that detail.

“We’d better get out there and help them then,” he said, getting up and putting on the boots he’d realised he was missing from his outfit. He glanced up at Binghe’s forehead and added a disclaimer, “But Binghe, you can’t go out there looking like–”

“It’s okay, Shizun, I did what I think you’d call a ‘big reveal’ when shishu didn’t return but instead set off an emergency beacon,” Binghe explained, tapping his zuiyin. “I needed Sha Hualing’s help to get, well… to get an army here to rescue you, so I really had no choice. Everyone took it better than I’d hoped, and we have a temporary alliance. Probably because Yue Qingyuan was so determined to find you quickly.”

“Bless that big idiot,” Shen Qingqiu said, strapping Xiu Ya’s sheath on properly. “Okay, I’m ready to fight! Let’s go get Xin Mo back for you!”

Binghe beamed, and turned for the exit with Zheng Yang drawn, ready for trouble.

Shen Qingqiu stepped outside the tent right behind him and looked around at the scene. The tent they’d left was a command tent of sorts, up on a hillside ledge overlooking the main battle on the barren black rocky plain below. He could see a mass of animalistic demons from the Southern Demon Realm – most either full or part animal in appearance – battling against a smaller mass of cultivators and more humanoid Northern demons who’d allied against them, albeit in two disparate groups. They were coordinating passably well on a pincer movement against the Southern demon army, since centuries of distrust weren’t easy to overcome. The smaller forces had chosen strategic locations where it would be challenging to surround them, closer to the encircling sharp mountains around the edge of the plain. The fight was also going on up in the sky, where bone eagles and crane demons whirled and chased cultivators zooming past on swords, who peppered the birds with arrows shot from recurved horn bows.

“Where are the other peak lords?” Shen Qingqiu asked, scanning the battlefield. “And Tianlang-Jun?”

“Probably where the fighting is thickest,” Binghe said, pointing across the large oval plain at a particularly thick seething mass. “Watch for the light from Xuan Su.”

He set Xiu Ya to hover and hopped on, and Binghe did the same with Zheng Yang. Down below in the crowded group of demons, a brief burst of light flared out in a ring, knocking over lesser demons like it had a physical force to it. Three figures could be seen left standing in the epicentre for a brief moment before the seething masses rushed back in like a wave, but his eyes weren’t good enough to identify who, though he could certainly make an educated guess. Binghe’s eyes, of course, would surely be much better! Being a heavenly demon came with all sorts of perks, depending on the needs of Airplane’s plot! He gave an enquiring look to Binghe, who answered him as if his question didn’t even need to be voiced to be understood.

“The sect leader, Liu-shishu, and my rival Emperor,” Binghe summarised. “Qi Qingqi and Wei-shishu should be around somewhere but I didn’t see them. The Ku Xing peak lord and his disciples are mostly up in the sky, since they are more skilled with bows and hit and run strategies.”

“Mn.” Reaching out with his qi, Shen Qingqiu stripped a nearby tree of all its leaves and set them to circling around him in a swirling multilayered mess that gradually tidied itself under his guiding qi into a whirl of overlapping offset circles of razor-sharp green blades. He felt like some avenging angel, ready to unleash his fury upon those who’d dared steal from his disciple and threaten his sect siblings. Oh, and who’d kidnapped him. That was also inappropriate.

“That’s so amazing and… and beautiful, Shizun,” Binghe said softly, gazing at his display of power with obvious and flattering admiration.

“Binghe, I want you to know that–” he started shyly, right before it all went wrong. The rings of deadly leaves fluttered harmlessly to the ground as his qi seized in his meridians, congealing and blocking the flow that let him spread his energy outside his body. His body ached with the pain of it. It also interfered with his connection to Xiu Ya, so he quickly stumbled off his sword and onto the ground before he fell. He flipped Xiu Ya up with one booted foot, bouncing it back up to his hand, a move he’d sadly had too many chances to perfect since being poisoned.

Without a Cure. Fuck! System, why now?! He didn’t actually expect a real answer, but he got one that chilled him to the core.

[It’s narratively dramatic! ╮ (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) ╭ ]

Fuck! You! I want to fight! I was looking so cool, too!

“Shizun, it’s Without a Cure, isn’t it? Come with me, I have to get you to safety!” Binghe insisted, leaning down from his hovering sword, holding a hand out for his Shizun to join him like a dainty maiden who needed to be saved. He looked the spitting image of a handsome hero, all rippling muscles with his long hair waving gently in the breeze. “Sha Hualing can evacuate you; she has an artefact that allows rapid travel much like Mobei-Jun’s ability.”

Fuck! That! You want drama, you bug-ridden GameCube?! I’ll give you drama! Take some of those useless fucking points and work with my scenario. That’s what you brought me here for, right? To make this shit story better?! Listen to some goddamn concrit because I will not be turned into Princess Fucking Peach just because the protagonist is in love with me!

Shen Qingqiu ignored Binghe’s outstretched hand and grabbed him by the shoulders, yanking him off Zheng Yang and onto the ground too. Binghe stumbled and fell against him, bumping into his chest.

“Binghe. I’m not leaving, and neither are you. I absolutely refuse to run and leave our sect siblings behind. You’re going to go down there, defeat your father, and save everyone from his insane plan to destroy the sects and merge the realms, and I’m going to help you. I believe in you.” He finished his dramatic speech by hauling Binghe in and pressing their mouths together in a bruisingly passionate kiss.

Damn, that felt… nice.

“Shizun…” Binghe said, breathless and starry-eyed. His tongue flicked out to run across his own bottom lip as if trying to catch the last bit of the flavour of his Shizun’s mouth, and he shuddered.

[+2000 B-Points for “Physical Relationship Development” achievement! Heartbreak Points reduced! +500 B-Points for increase in Shen Qingqiu’s coolness level! -3000 B-Points for a Small Scenario Pusher Luxury Edition!]

“Go!” he ordered. “I’ll be fine!” He pushed him away and gestured over at the battle where Liu Qingge and Yue Qingyuan were still desperately trying to gain some kind of edge against Tianlang-Jun, while simultaneously drawing a horde of demons into their tornado of destruction.

Instead of leaving right away, Binghe grabbed him back and hauled him in for a second, briefer kiss. He put energy into it, quite literally. While his tongue delved into his Shizun’s mouth with a passionate moan, he also pushed clean, non-demonic qi into Shen Qingqiu.

The energy gushed through his meridians like a high-pressure hose, sluicing them clean. Shen Qingqiu gasped and shuddered from the rush of power, and concentrated fast, trying to guide the flow of qi to break through the blockages where it was most needed. Binghe let out a little gasp too, panting and sighing against his lips, but he had a suspicion that had nothing to do with qi flow in the slightest.

Binghe let him go and jumped back on his sword, looking determined and heroic as fuck as he instinctively posed for a moment, his hair whipping in the breeze and the sunset blazing in gorgeous red tones in the thick clouds behind him, echoing the bright flame on his forehead. “I… I love you, Shizun! Join me when you can!”

He fled before Shen Qingqiu could say anything in response. In the back of his head, System was pinging insistently about Binghe’s coolness level and awarding more points for his love confession, but Shen Qingqiu had only one thing to say to that!

“Mute.”

[ (°ロ°) ]

You’ll be fine, Binghe, and you’ll win.

Reinvigorated, he leapt back onto his beloved Xiu Ya and drew his satellite rings of razor leaves up with him.

But you’re not going to have to fight alone!

Chapter Text

He meant to fly straight after Binghe, he really did, but while the protagonist headed straight for the epic boss battle like a rocket, Shen Qingqiu got distracted along the way.

First it was because he spotted a magical archway appearing out of nowhere – a doorway-sized arching rainbow just springing into existence in the midst of a mass of bestial demons.

Is that the Sha clan’s Iridescent Portal? Isn’t it supposed to be more like a rainbow-flecked shimmer? The fanart lied to me!

Seeing a couple of Bai Zhan disciples step through the rainbow arch only to be immediately beset by enemies, he swooped over to spray the encircling demons with a barrage of deadly razor-sharp leaves, slicing at their eyes and legs for the maximum disabling effect. There was a time and a place for honourable combat, and life-or-death battles wasn’t it!

The grateful senior students gave him a salute with their swords before falling on the enemy, clearing a bridgehead for more students – including some of his precious buns from Qing Jing Peak. Ming Fan and Ning Yingying were right at the front, and it both warmed his heart to see them while simultaneously terrifying him that they were throwing themselves into battle.

“Shizun!” his students cried out in a ragged, elated chorus. “Look! It’s Shizun!”

“I’ll clear you a path!” he yelled, blazing a line through the enemy so that the reinforcements could join up with a larger group of human cultivators near a rocky cliff at the dark plain’s edge. “Weaker fighters stay in the centre of the group!”

It wasn’t the most helpful advice he could have given, as close to everyone tried to rush to the edges, jostling for position. The path of injured demons he laid out for them was much more useful.

He flew above them until he was sure he’d shepherded them to safety as best he could. Some of the leaves encircling him now dripped red and black with demonic blood. He left the disciples behind in the fierce care of a mix of master cultivators from various sects.

When he saw a group of humanoid demons in black armor with red trim – Binghe’s colours – beset by a charging herd of minotaurs, he hesitated for a moment before zooming over and sending his leaves whirling to blunt the charge, slicing deeply into their unarmoured furry legs. The front row went down with a thunderous boom and the following few rows crashed into them; the lethal charge against an outnumbered foe became a rout for the other side, and they cheered him as he flew past them, falling upon their opponents with bloodthirsty zeal. He doubted any would recognise him as Shen Qingqiu but they would logically know him as an ally from his actions. Perhaps they even mistook him for a humanoid demon, since he was wearing daringly cut black silk robes in the local fashion and had fought for them!

Moving onwards towards his goal he was next distracted as a tent on the battlefield burst open as a gigantic green snake exploded up from inside it. It thrashed about as it tried to free itself from the jumble of canvas and ropes and, more critically, from a large bright red net tangled around its head.

Immortal Binding Cables. But do they work on demons? Maybe it’s a special net? I think that must be Zhuzhi-Lang!

He flew closer to get a better look but was wary of getting close enough to be spotted and possibly disabled due to his unwillingly ingested blood mites.

Qi Qingqi and Liu Mingyan were there leading the fight, peppering the snake with searing sword glares, and taking turns darting in to secure the red net, grabbing at the ropes lashing about in the air like whips.

Shang Qinghua struggled out of the mess of the ruined tent and pulled the dead weight of Mobei-Jun out to sit with him, who still looked to be as immobilised as he had been the last time Shen Qingqiu had seen him. He kept his fiancé cradled in his arms facing outwards as if he didn’t want Mobei-Jun to miss out on at least looking at the fight.

Shen Qingqiu sent his tornado of leaves into the fight, clearing away the rabble of demons around the ladies so they had more room to manoeuvre. A few sliced into Zhuzhi-Lang, but he was careful to aim for the tail, far away from where his allies might get splattered with blood. It wasn’t much, but it proved enough to help distract their opponent!

Zhuzhi-Lang shrank, shifting to a lamia-like half-snake form and throwing the suddenly loosened net off him in the process. Then he summoned his own spilled blood to him, and it sucked towards his hand like a reverse injury. However, instead of healing himself he used it to create himself a weapon instead, manifesting a clear red sword fashioned out of his blood.

Qi Qingqi glanced around and quickly took stock of the battlefield. She nodded approvingly before yelling at the top of her voice, “NOW, MINGYAN! THROW THE POISON!”

Reaching into a qiankun pouch, Liu Mingyan extracted what looked to him like one of the large, sealed jars the sect stored wine or oil in, and lobbed it at Zhuzhi-Lang. He reared backwards as it smashed right where he’d been coiled, rendered off-balance in his haste to evade the poisonous attack.

One thing he hadn’t noticed, however, with his more limited range of view, was the black portal of demonic qi that Mobei-Jun had just manifested right behind him.

Working together, Qi Qingqi and Liu Mingyan crash-tackled him through the portal. The instant he was pushed through Mobei-Jun was reinvigorated and struggled out of Qinghua’s grasp and leapt through as well. The portal dissipated into wisps of black smoke right as Shang Qinghua was trying to pass through too.

“Oh, come on, my king!” he yelled, swiping angrily through the fading vestiges of smoke with Xiao Niao. “Like here is any safer!”

“Want a lift?” Shen Qingqiu offered, gliding down beside him and opening up a gap in his telekinetic leaf shield. “You can shoot off some sword glares as we fly to the boss fight.”

“Might as well,” he sighed, hopping on and balancing on the narrow blade. “I can’t believe he left me behind. That wasn’t the plan!”

“Binghe tried to ditch me too,” he sympathized. “System was in on it. Hey bro, will your baobei be okay? What about the blood mites?”

As they flew towards the epicentre of the battle in the middle of the flat rocky plain, they both picked off enemies as they went. Shen Qingqiu went for the AoE attacks, injuring swathes of the bestial demons below to give their allies an edge in attacking, while Shang Qinghua went for kill shots on any flyers that got in their way, be they bone eagles, bird demons, or anyone angry-looking flying a sword who moved to attack them. Shen Qingqiu skipped over hurting a small cluster of panda demons, however. Those were super endangered (and very cute)!

“He should be fine. Our plan was to seize a chance to dump Zhuzhi-Lang into some snow until the cold forces his ectothermic snakey-self into hibernation, and he loses control of his blood mites. My king will be back soon with the others in tow, good as new,” Shang Qinghua said, with a bit of forced confidence at the end of his recitation. “Qi Qingqi will kick arse, anyway, even if he can’t. He’ll be fine, he has backup!”

There was a big flash of light up ahead, and another bubble of demons went flying in all directions.

“Shit bro, I think that’s Xuan Su. That’s not good,” Shang Qinghua worried. “Go faster.”

They shot like an arrow towards the boss battle, and Shen Qingqiu kind of wished they had some epic backing music, instead of having to listen to the disturbing realism of clashing weapons and pained screams. He absent-mindedly started singing a repetitive chant in bad Latin.

“Is that Sephiroth’s theme song?” Shang Qinghua laughed. “You’re such a gamer nerd.”

“Says the guy who recognised it,” he sniffed imperiously. “Get ready, Airplane.”

He landed them in the temporarily clear inner circle where Tianlang-Jun, wielding Xin Mo, was being harried by three cultivators at once: Liu Qingge, Yue Qingyuan, and Luo Binghe.

Shang Qinghua kicked a demon’s body casually aside to give himself somewhere clear to stand as he dismounted. “The cavalry’s here! Well, not literally. We don’t have horses.”

“Shizun! You’re safe!” Binghe cried out in relief, distracted. His scarlet zuiyin and his demonic features were hidden away once more, as if despite his earlier words he hadn’t wanted Zhangmen-shixiong and Liu-shishu to see him looking demonic, which was understandable.

“I always feel safe when you’re around, Binghe,” he replied, smiling at him.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught Shang Qinghua silently mouthing the name ‘Ning Yingying’, and he realised he’d accidentally quoted one of her famous classic lines from Proud Immortal Fucking Demon Way! He blushed while Shang Qinghua smirked at him and wiggled his eyebrows meaningfully. He thought perhaps dying wouldn’t be so bad after all, as his face burnt with shame. He determinedly dragged his mouth into a more serene, controlled expression.

Despite being accidentally plagiarized, what he’d said was true though. I spent so long fearing Binghe’s return, but now just being near him makes me feel safe, like nothing can go wrong so long as he’s with me.

Liu Qingge just glanced at him briefly and grunted in satisfaction, hyper-focused on the taxing fight. He was looking battered but still going strong harrying the demon emperor. He looked to be wearing one of his sister’s veils, and blood just slid off the fabric when it splattered on his face.

Yue Qingyuan had a weimao on his head for similar blood-warding reasons, and judging by what he could glimpse through the sheer white silk Shen Qingqiu thought Yue Qingyuan looked... well… to be honest he looked awful! His gege had dark shadows under his tired eyes, and he had stubble. Had he been worried so much the past week – or however long it had been – while Shen Qingqiu was kidnapped that he’d been skipping bathing, sleeping, and shaving? Even when Shen Qingqiu had been skipping meals with Binghe in the Abyss, he hadn’t ever given up on his ‘untouchable immortal’ appearance! His gege looked positively scruffy. Beneath the flowing diaphanous drapes of fabric attached to the weimao’s brim, the expression on his face on glimpsing Shen Qingqiu looked to be one of pure relief.

“Xiao Shen!” he cried out. “Stay back!”

He went back to his fight with a burst of renewed determination. Yue Qingyuan kept trying to draw his sword, but Tianlang-Jun had clearly mastered a counter technique that saw him pressing a single finger down on Yue Qingyuan’s grip on his sword’s hilt, preventing it from being drawn more than an inch before it was shoved back in its scabbard. Every time Yue Qingyuan managed to draw Xuan Su even a bit, however, there was a burst of light that knocked back any surrounding minions.

“And here I thought you’d abandoned my son to his death, as cultivators so often do with demons,” Tianlang-Jun said conversationally. The zuiyin on his forehead was glowing brightly, and the pattern of it was starting to bleed across his forehead in a messy spiderweb of new extended lines like a growing infection.

“Rather late, aren’t you, peak lord? And the other demon-lover is here too, I see. Greetings, Peak Lord Shang. Where has your stubbornly disloyal king taken my nephew? I can’t sense him anywhere nearby.”

Liu Qingge’s head whipped around at that second casual accusation about Shang Qinghua, and he leapt back to avoid Tianlang-Jun’s lazy swipe with Xin Mo that almost gutted him in his moment of inattention. “Shixiong?!”

“Aha ha!” Shang Qinghua laughed nervously. “We’re not going to listen to this demon’s baseless slander, are we?”

Binghe lunged for Xin Mo but was backhanded away by his father and sent flying, crashing into some demons and knocking them down like bowling pins.

Yue Qingyuan smashed Xuan Su – currently sheathed – into a blood eagle, and a great gust of qi-produced wind blasted it far away before it exploded in a shower of blood, sparkling in the sunset’s red glow.

Tianlang-Jun tutted. “How fickle your loyalty is after all. What a disappointment.” He merely glanced sharply in Shang Qinghua’s direction, and his friend arched his back in agony.

“Qinghua!” Shen Qingqiu called out worriedly, grabbing at him as he started to fall.

“Fuck! Not you too!” Qinghua said, doubling over and clutching at his stomach as he groaned in pain. He staggered and sat down carefully. “Urgh, damn. Mercy, Junshang!”

Tianlang-Jun raised an amused eyebrow. “This is mercy. You still live, do you not?”

“What are you doing to him?” Liu Qingge demanded, attacking furiously but unable to get past Xin Mo’s guarding strikes.

“Blood mites,” Shen Qingqiu explained succinctly.

“Dishonourable cheater!” Liu Qingge scoffed.

Tianlang-Jun rolled his eyes and said, “Oh, so very unlike the honourable conduct of the Four Sects in their battles against me. Perhaps you would you have preferred an ambush with a hundred to one odds, like last time?”

“You were going to lead an invading army to raze the Human Realm! You expected us to simply wait?” Yue Qingyuan rebutted angrily.

While Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge attacked in a pincer movement, and Shen Qingqiu shot sword glares into the emperor’s eyes and used his leaves to encircle their clearing in a warding barrier, Yue Qingyuan managed to finally fully draw Xuan Su. The resultant explosive blast of spiritual energy cleared the minions away even further and made all of them stagger to keep their footing under the pressure of the blast of qi.

“You!” Tianglang-Jun said, glaring at Shen Qingqiu the most out of all of them, for some reason.

His gut crawled with a pained churning sensation, and he fell to his knees with a scream as blood sprayed out from his own mouth.

Fuck, he got me too! I should have expected that. I should have stuck to fighting minions.

“Shizun!” Binghe cried, dropping his attack as he rushed towards him.

“Xiao Shen!”

But he wasn’t the only one Tianlang-Jun had managed to secretly infect with his blood. Amidst the worried cries for him, Liu Qingge was staggering as Cheng Luan dropped from his suddenly uncooperative fingers.

With his allies all down or thoroughly distracted, Yue Qingyuan was caught alone and off guard as blood red tentacles grabbed him around the waist and arms, yanking him over to Tianlang-Jun who grabbed him around the waist and held Xin Mo to his throat, slicing through the sheer cotton veil and drawing a thin red line on the skin of his neck.

“Hold! I want him to know the truth before he dies. Tell him. Tell them both, you who spoke so passionately of my wife’s innocence,” he demanded. “Speak the truth, if you want them to live a little longer. Where there’s life there’s hope, or so they say.”

Binghe, who’d hurried to cradle Shen Qingqiu against his side, looked like he was itching to go back to the fight, but a convulsion and a pained cry from his Shizun had him quickly changing his plans.

With Zheng Yang still ready in his right hand, he rested his left hand on Shen Qingqiu’s stomach, and the pain started to ease. It wasn’t gone, but the cramps and the agony searing through his veins were at a manageable level now. He’d functioned with worse pain, on a bad day suffering from Without a Cure. “I can counter them, I think. You’ll be alright,” Binghe promised.

Shen Qingqiu nodded, and gritting his teeth he pushed out of his arms to stand up straight again. “You want them to hear the truth?” he said to Tianlang-Jun. “I’ll tell them, just don’t… don’t kill any of them,” he said.

Liu Qingge looked furious, while Qi-ge’s eyes were wide and panicked.

“Tianlang-Jun never had an army, that first time. There was no plan to invade, no crusade against the Four Sects. The Old Palace Master lied. He attacked Tianlang-Jun over a personal grudge, not from any noble motives. Tianlang-Jun didn’t even hate humans, he liked them, and he loved his human wife deeply and truly.”

“No,” Yue Qingyuan began, before the sword at his throat warned him off speaking.

“I can counter your blood mites too, shishu,” Binghe offered quietly to Shang Qinghua.

“No, no, Junshang! I’m fine how I am, so long as I can still talk. No more blood in me, thanks!”

“You can’t fight like this,” Binghe pointed out.

“I can still deal emotional damage,” Shang Qinghua said stubbornly, “and I don’t think he’s going to summarily execute me.”

Binghe shook his head but let it go.

“Do me,” Liu Qingge grunted, his face still furious. “I want it.”

Tianlang-Jun chuckled. “How forward!”

Liu Qingge blushed. “His blood! So I can fight!”

It didn’t put the emperor off, however, he just leered even more at Liu Qingge as if he’d continued to say lewd things rather than a rebuttal.

“You trust me, shishu?” Binghe asked, wonderingly.

“I trust you to protect Shen Qingqiu!” Liu Qingge snapped.

“No, don’t. If you try to feed him your blood, I will kill him before you can blink,” Tianlang-Jun warned with suddenly dead eyes.

A blood wolf emerged from a puddle on the ground and loped over to threaten Liu Qingge and stand guard against Binghe.

“I don’t need you alive. I don’t know you by anything more than your monstrous reputation as a demon slayer, War God. Your death would mean less than nothing to me, so I’m happy to make it a quick one if you push me.”

At a warning shake of his Shizun’s head, Binghe backed off from approaching his shishu, mouthing a silent apology.

“Tell me, emperor, why none of us are dead yet,” Yue Qingyuan demanded in a strained voice, his hand clenched in a white-knuckled grip on the hilt of his glowing sword, his arms straining futilely against the rock-solid grip of the blood tentacles. “Last time it took the combined might of the Four Sects meeting just you and your general in an ambush. We had hundreds of masters, and still a third of us died sealing you away despite all our preparations with the array. Why are you toying with us like this? I know what you’re capable of, and this isn’t a fraction of it! Is this mercy you are showing for your son’s sake?”

Tianlang-Jun laughed, low and malicious, and it chilled him to the bone. “It has nothing to do with that whelp. We demons don’t care about our young like humans allegedly do. It’s because I want you to suffer. I want to see despair dawn in your eyes, Yue Qi. You and all the others responsible for my last defeat. I want you to watch all your sect siblings and students fall, and I want you to see my glorious vision for the new, combined world before you and the rest of the traitorous warmongers die, leaving the shrunken jianghu all the better for your absence.”

“You need to get Xin Mo off him before the merges the Human and Demon Realms,” Shen Qingqiu ordered Binghe quietly. “Focus on that above all!”

Tianlang-Jun laughed and tapped one pointed ear quietly, as if to remind them that demonic hearing was sharper than that of humans. “You say that like I haven’t already started.”

He looked meaningfully upwards, and Shen Qingqiu followed his gaze to the looming clouds above them.

“If she’s hiding with them, this will flush her out,” Tianlang-Jun said flatly.

The clouds weren’t just red in the west, they were growing redder all over with a blood-red glow. And far above them in the sky, emerging from a mammoth cloud bank and shimmering in place like a heat haze, the sprawling complex of Huan Hua Palace could be faintly seen. It flickered in and out of existence like it wasn’t quite sure if it should be there or not, like an old TV signal losing focus, the channel fading in and out. Cultivators flying on swords were emerging from it in a cloud, like wasps swarming around their disturbed nest.

“Su Xiyan wouldn’t have wanted this!” Shang Qinghua cried out. “She chose to die rather than betray you or see your child dead – that’s how much she loved you! You said to me and Mobei-Jun that you wanted to force the races to learn to live together, but this will only destroy us all!”

“You said she’s dead!” Tianlang-Jun snarled, and a wave of purple-black demonic qi flared out from Xin Mo. Some seared hungrily at Yue Qingyuan’s throat, evoking only a stubborn repressed hiss, but the bulk of it surged into the ground, and the earth trembled beneath their feet. “If she is, then she can’t want anything! I just wanted to read books, and sing songs, and find love with Xiyan, and for that sin the malice of her black heart and the jianghu ruled I deserved betrayal and imprisonment! Imprisoned in pitch-black darkness for decades, pinned like a crushed insect in ceaseless agony!”

Binghe left Shen Qingqiu standing next to Shang Qinghua who sat on the ground at his feet, and walked cautiously towards his father, stalking slowly like a cat across the shaky ground.

“Wait… why are we talking about Su Xiyan? Do you mean Huan Hua Palace’s dead head disciple? Is she my mother? Are you the demon she used to sneak off to meet with?” Binghe asked. “I should have realised…”

“Yes, she’s the one who spoke of love then stabbed me in the back,” Tianlang-Jun summarised. His voice had gone dull and flat. Shen Qingqiu recognised depressed resignation when he heard it. “She was supposed to be my empress, but she valued her own kind more than a throne or my heart, and led me into the jianghu’s trap with her letter.”

“Wait, Binghe doesn’t know that, how does he know that?” Shang Qinghua asked.

He yelped as Mobei-Jun blinked into their clearing, covered in snow and blood. “My king!”

Mobei-Jun leapt to grab Shang Qinghua, threw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and instantly disappeared through a smoky portal without a word.

“He’ll learn to regret his trust,” Tianlang-Jun sighed, shaking his head as the wisps of black smoke dissipated in the air. “In any case, if my nephew has been harmed I shall make that human a widower and raze the Northen Desert in revenge.”

Liu Qingge let out a strangled grunt of surprise.

“When the Old Palace Master…” Binghe started, then gulped hard before continuing. He took another tiny step forward. “When he told me how much I resembled his late head disciple, Su Xiyan, he took me to his bedroom.”

“Binghe…” Shen Qingqiu said, his voice wavering.

Binghe shook his head. “It’s okay, Shizun. He didn’t… The Old Palace Master put his arm around my waist as he showed me a shrine he had to her, hidden away in a closet. There were paintings of her, the shattered pieces of her sword, and a lock of her hair. He said I looked so much like her, even more than Gongyi Xiao did. I have her wavy hair too, he said.”

Tianlang-Jun was frozen in place by his words as Binghe took another tiny step closer to him as if just casually shifting his weight around.

“I didn’t like… how he looked at me. How his fingers lingered on my waist, or in my hair. I invaded his dreams that night, looking for… For what he wanted. How to stay safe from him while still staying with his sect. I found memories of Su Xiyan, but I didn’t realise she was my mother!”

“Tell me. Tell me!” Tianlang-Jun ordered, life back in his eyes again.

“He ranted to her about how ‘that demon’ had sullied what was his. How she was supposed to stay pure. He’d imprisoned her in the Water Prison… she was heavily pregnant, with a rounded belly. He… touched her as he crooned in her ear and told her that if she just cooperated, he’d let her go free, and everything could be like it was before. She spat at him and headbutted him in the face. He forced her to drink something from a bottle saying that he’d let her go free to see her lover if she drank it all, so she swallowed it. I don’t know what it was.”

He’d learnt a lot of lore from Shang Qinghua, but he’d never heard before how creepy the Old Palace Master had been about Su Xiyan!

“Poison,” Shen Qingqiu said, “one that was only supposed to kill demons. He wanted… it was meant to be an abortifacient, but she manipulated her qi to absorb it into her own body to save you, Binghe.”

“How… how do you know, Shizun?”

“Shang Qinghua knew”–because he wrote that in his draft–“I think he heard it from a monk who tended her as she lay dying after giving birth to you; Master Wu Chen of Zhao Hua Monastery. Your shishu told me what he knew about you, Binghe, once he’d figured it out himself.”

Binghe shook his head. “So, that old man poisoned her – tried to kill me in the womb – and then he assaulted my mother. She refused to say a word against her lover, though she pretended to repent so he’d let her go free to find him… my father. That man only saw what he wanted to see; he didn’t notice the hatred in her eyes, but I did. That old bastard died too quick.”

Shen Qingqiu nodded in fervent agreement, then looked over worriedly at Tianlang-Jun, who was quivering with emotion. The zuiyin on his forehead was pulsing as it glowed brightly, and the red mark was spreading like a weed under his skin, lines curving around his cheekbones.

This isn’t even my final form! Uh so… this might be bad. In PIDW when that happened to Bingge that always foreshadowed either a mammoth orgy or a massive beatdown, and I don’t see any women around!

“Is that how it was?” Tianlang-Jun asked, his lips trembling. “Truly?”

Luo Binghe nodded. “I swear it upon my life. Even more so, I swear it on Shizun’s life! What I have told you is nothing but the truth I saw in that man’s memories. Her love was steadfast, and even when she was tied up in the Water Prison and pretending to repent, or when he was touching… when she was suffering… she never agreed to help capture her lover. She only disguised her hatred and pleaded for forgiveness. I must admit I had assumed her child and she had both died together – that outcome was not something I looked for thoroughly, and in his memories of the past the Old Palace Master was absolutely certain they’d both perished. I didn’t understand it was my history, though it all seems obvious now in retrospect.”

“This one apologises–” Yue Qingyuan started, before falling silent at the renewed press of Xin Mo against his throat. He hung limply and tiredly in Tianlang-Jun’s grasp.

Liu Qingge was also stuck, lying flat and helpless on the ground like a pinned butterfly, his eyes wild with fury, but at least he was not being tortured right this minute.

The demons encircling them were still being held at bay, admittedly as much by the heavy press of Tianlang-Jun’s roiling qi and commanding manner as by Shen Qingqiu’s barrier of still-swirling leaves.

Tianlang-Jun turned his head to Shen Qingqiu, as if seeking confirmation. “Truly?”

“As far as I know, yes. I did not know about any… lechery, just his obsession. But the rest I had heard myself, albeit second-hand from Shang Qinghua, and he is an unimpeachable source. Su Xiyan was fooled by the Old Palace Master, just like you were. Just like our sect leader Yue Qingyuan was,” he added pointedly, with a nod at his gege. It was hard to tell under that veil, but he thought he looked pale-faced and shocked.

For the first time in a long while Tianlang-Jun looked at the hostage he still held at swordpoint, arms spreadeagled in the grasp of his blood-made tentacles. Moving Xin Mo away from his throat Tianlang-Jun used his tentacles to literally throw Yue Qingyuan away from him, in the rough direction of Liu Qingge’s immobile body.

Yue Qingyuan sheathed his sword mid-tumble in an impressive act of dexterity, though it seemed an odd priority, as it left him skidding across the ground in a painful fashion, since he didn’t have his hands free to cushion his fall.

Wait, didn’t Airplane say it hurt him to keep it out unsheathed for too long, because it’s tied to his qi from all that drama in the caves long ago? Hmm, well, he seems alright so far; it was only a minute or two.

Shen Qingqiu thought optimistically that it looked like it might all be over peacefully, as Tianlang-Jun teared up and hung his head, his posture limp and defeated. “My Su Xiyan,” he whispered brokenly.

Then Tianlang-Jun held Xin Mo out point-down, and with a mighty scream he raised it up for a mighty swing and stabbed the sword with all his force into the black rocky ground, and it erupted in a conflagration of dark purple qi, while his own black qi roiled around him. “He murdered my Xiyan!” he screamed.

Yue Qingyuan and Liu Qingge were sent flying by the force of the explosion, but Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe managed to brace enough to keep their balance.

Tianlang-Jun raised his head and his irises were glowing like blood-red lamps, brighter than daylight. The scarlet zuiyin on his forehead was spreading even further now, curling lines weaving across all his pale face, expanding outward down his neck and bared upper chest. “He laid his filthy hands on my A-Yan! Despoiled her! Poisoned her and our child!”

He kept a hand on Xin Mo, and its purple light began to pulse in time with the scarlet lines now covering his upper body. With his chest bared a second flame-like zuiyin could be seen slowly forming over the middle of his chest, just like the one on his forehead. It too thrummed with dark red light like a beating heart.

“I will kill him! His death will be slow and agonising as I tear his organs from his living body and consume them in front of him!” Tianlang-Jun screamed. The ground began to tremble, and a low rumbling sound echoed through the air.

“He’s dead, he’s already dead and buried!” Shen Qingqiu yelled. “Just… just get a hold of Xin Mo and calm down! Think of your son!”

But Tianlang-Jun seemed disinterested in Binghe, and instead looked around wildly until his gaze was caught by the flickering image of Huan Hua Palace hanging in the sky, where red clouds were gathering swiftly as the wind howled. “Then I will destroy everything he loved!”

He turned with a vacant gaze to face Binghe. “That’s fair, isn’t it, A-Yan? He took you from me, so I will take his world too. I will destroy Huan Hua Palace, his child, his disciples. Every last stone will be cast to the ground until only blood-stained rubble remains strewn around a wasteland of corpses!”

Every free cultivator who could extricate themselves from their own battles was now attempting to converge on their location, but an army of demons leapt to intercept them.

“Kill them all!” Tianlang-Jun howled. “Your Empress demands their deaths in penance! Spare only my nephew’s pretty pet; that one is his to claim, or mine to slay if he rebels!”

Holy shit, he’s lost it!

The ground shuddered and cracked, and from the fissures in the earth jets of steam and burning hot ash erupted around them, and the air reeked with a malodorous stench like burnt matches or rotten eggs.

With a snarl Binghe ceased his slow stalking, perhaps judging he’d crept close enough for a surprise attack now. With a tremendous leap he pounced upon his distracted father, lashing out with Zheng Yang.

“You will not touch Shizun!” Binghe snarled, feinting then landing a fierce blow that lopped off his father’s right arm below the elbow, detaching Tianlang-Jun’s grip from Xin Mo quite literally. The severed limb flopped to the ground, but Xin Mo’s storm of demonic qi continued unabated, as it stayed upright and quivering in the trembling earth, stuck in the rocky earth like an evil Excalibur.

A fatal injury for a mortal was only a temporary inconvenience for a full-blooded heavenly demon, however. His blood stretched out in sticky worm-like tendrils to draw the severed limb back to his body and fix it in place while his body quickly regenerated, though it left an ugly ring of bruises behind on his skin, and his clothes increasingly tattered.

“Palace Master,” Tianlang-Jun snarled, staring with wild glowing eyes at Binghe and spitting up a cupful of blood, “you will pay for dishonouring my A-Yan!”

Shen Qingqiu thought at first spitting up blood was because he’d been injured, until the blood glooped along his arm like a slug, then stretched out from his reformed hand into a shining red blood sword.

“I’m not him, he’s dead!” Binghe snarled back, his own zuiyin slowly brightening as it manifested on his brow. His claws and pointed ears were out now; the gloves were off, it seemed!

Shen Qingqiu hopped on Xiu Ya as the earth crumbled beneath him, dropping as if some hollow beneath the earth had collapsed. He zipped over to where Yue Qingyuan was hauling Liu Qingge out of a fissure he’d been about to tumble into to his probable death.

But one disaster narrowly avoided didn’t mean he was safe. As Shen Qingqiu looked around them at the ring of mountains and cliffs around them, and the flat black volcanic earth beneath them, he realised that Tianlang-Jun had carefully selected the site of the battle as one massive trap.

“Xiao Shen! Take him!” Yue Qingyuan ordered, literally throwing Liu Qingge into his hastily outstretched arms, and then tossing Cheng Luan atop Qingge’s stomach.

Liu Qingge cursed softly. “I need to… get back to the f-fight,” he slurred, his lips stiff and his head lolling against Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder. “Do something!”

“We’re in the middle of a caldera!” he yelled back to Yue Qingyuan, as he settled Qingge in his arms and ignored his rambling for the moment. “A massive volcano is about to erupt beneath our feet any second! Qi-ge, we have to evacuate everyone!”

“Go!” Yue Qingyuan ordered. “I can’t fly, so take Liu-shidi and spread the word! Return when you can! I’ll keep the rabble off the… your disciple.”

As he reluctantly but obediently left he glanced over his shoulder at Binghe who looked positively feral at the moment, though his zuiyin was reassuringly compact. It was still a tidy flame on his brow, showing he was still in control of himself… just angry.

“Demon,” Liu Qingge muttered, forcing the words out through uncooperative lips, looking at Binghe too. Shen Qingqiu was grateful that Tianlang-Jun had forgotten about Liu-shidi for the moment, and wasn’t torturing him or ending his life with a thought.

“Did you… know?” Qingge asked.

Shen Qingqiu nodded, as he sent his leaves boomeranging through the sky to shred through a flock of bone eagles as he sheared through the sky towards one of the larger concentrations of skyborne cultivators.

“I knew. For years,” he admitted.

“Should have… told us,” Qingge scolded, through gritted teeth.

“Tch. I would have if it had become necessary. Qinghua knew too,” he confessed. “We had it handled.”

Best to change the topic, he didn’t want to field any tricky questions

“Now shidi, stop being a useless lump and help fight. Blood mites may control your body but not your qi,” he explained swiftly, angling Liu Qingge in his arms so he would hopefully be able to see enemies sneaking up on them from behind. Qingge’s head flopped limply on his shoulder; he could barely hold it up. “Use energy attacks and you can still fight so long as you’re conscious.”

Liu Qingge gave a grunt of acknowledgement and then bit him viciously on the shoulder, ripping right through the black silk and his skin, drawing blood. He then sucked hard at the wound, his tongue a wet pressure to encourage blood flow.

“What the fuck?!” he yelled, almost dropping him in his shock, then grabbing him tightly to compensate for the slip.

Liu Qingge pulled his mouth off his shoulder and licked his lips. “Blood mites,” he explained quietly. “Luo Binghe’s. So I can fight properly.”

“Oh! That was a good idea, I guess.”

But fuck that hurt!

“You couldn’t have asked first?” he chided.

“No. Too risky.”

LQG was still recovering; wiggling in his arms slightly as function began returning to his limbs, but now he didn’t let his incapacity stop him from throwing out spiritual blasts at their enemies.

Shen Qingqiu lit up on seeing Ning Yingying determinedly leading the charging flock of cultivators up ahead, and they wheeled to a stop on his approach.

“Shizun!” she called out joyfully.

“Ning Yingying! There’s a volcano about to erupt beneath us, if we stay to fight everyone will die! Yue Qingyuan’s called for a retreat – spread the word and evacuate everyone!” he ordered. “Allied demons included!”

“Yes Shizun!” she said, nodding determinedly. “I will see to it!

“Tian Yi will heed the call to retreat!” a pretty woman in light aquamarine robes agreed.

They didn’t waste time, and most of the flock scattered to all corners of the battlefield.

Cheng Luan lifted off Liu Qingge’s stomach to hover in the air, and Qingge struggled for freedom. “Let me down. It still hurts, but I can move now. Can he counter it better, do you think? If I wait longer?”

“Probably not,” he admitted. “I’m still in pain myself.”

“You don’t look it,” Liu-shidi said, looking him up and down as he clambered onto his own sword, waveringly slightly but determinedly upright.

“I’m used to living with occasional chronic pain. You learn to ignore it with practice. The pain doesn’t go away, but you get used to functioning despite its presence when you have no other choice. Ah! Don’t look so worried, clearing my meridians fixes it fast, and it’s rarely a bother.”

Qingge’s brow darkened, but whatever he was going to say was cut off by Ning Yingying.

“Shishu, your sister’s in a bit of trouble; when I flew by I saw her trying to save Sha Hualing and her people from some snake demons. Also, as you know, Saintess Sha is our fast transport out of here! We need to save her!”

Liu Qingge looked longingly back at the epicentre of the fight, where the ground was collapsing and a spray of red lava shot out, showering the main combatants and those around them with a rain of searing hot rubble and choking ash.

“Tell me where Mingyan is,” he ordered, turning away from the biggest fight of his life.

Ah shidi, what a sacrifice! I didn’t want to leave either!

“Good luck!” Shen Qingqiu said. For his part, he thought he’d missed quite enough of the big boss fight already! He ran a little interference on his way back to the fight though, taking out some clusters of the enemy until his leaves were all gone (to the cheers of black-and-red clad demons) and loudly calling out the order to retreat.

“Cang Qiong and allies! Northern Demons! Retreat quickly before the volcano erupts!”

“Yes, Shizun!” an ox-horned demon called cheerfully back, leading his squad in disengaging. They leapt into their saddles, on some claw-footed horses with fanged mouths, then galloped away.

What the hell? Binghe, what are you teaching your troops about me? How are they even recognising me, I’m not even in my usual green robes? Is it Xiu Ya?

After a moment’s thought he recalled the many paintings Binghe had painted of him over the years ‘for practice’. Had he put one up in some palace somewhere, proudly showing off ‘Shizun’ to his minions?

As he neared the epicentre of the growing disaster, the cracks in the sunken ground beneath him were showing glimpses of oozing red lava, and the sulphurous air was chokingly thick with hot ash and smoke, searing the lungs with every breath. Demons of all shapes and sizes were fleeing the scene now; Tianlang-Jun might not have called for a retreat, but they still had functioning survival instincts!

Shen Qingqiu ripped away a sleeve of his underrobe, tying it around his nose and mouth to help filter out the worst of the gritty flakes of ash falling like snow everywhere around him. The centre of the sheer underrobe, already weakened by Liu Qingge’s bite, also ripped away as he tugged away the sleeve. He sighed. Showing a little skin at his chest couldn’t be helped at this point and a wardrobe disaster was hardly the worst thing in the world! His black and silver outer robe was at least still in decent condition.

He found Binghe and Yue Qingyuan battling Tianlang-Jun in a clear island of stone in the midst of a sea of roiling rising lava that crackled with a sound like breaking glass, as the ground around them rumbled with the threat of more eruptions yet to surface. Yue Qingyuan looked more tired and was clearly struggling to breathe in the sulphurous air, but while they both looked battered they were at least mostly intact! Tianlang-Jun appeared to have lost a foot at some point, but it didn’t seem to be slowing him down much as he’d fashioned translucent red bat wings that seemingly sprouted from his back, keeping him aloft as he swooped around his opponents, sticking close to the ground and defending Xin Mo from Binghe’s attempts to grab at it. As Shen Qingqiu drew closer he saw Tianlang-Jun looked worse than he’d first thought, with mottled purple skin in patches everywhere, and large chunks of flesh that were just missing. Not like they’d been cut off, but more like they’d sloughed off in a rotten mess.

It seemed to be a stalemate. While Tianlang-Jun was the stronger fighter and full of a berserk fury, he had two opponents to deal with and a valuable target to guard: Xin Mo.

Shen Qingqiu flew in to assist, shooting pure bursts of spiritual energy at Tianlang-Jun’s back, and was very successful in his distraction, from a certain point of view.

Tianlang-Jun went absolutely nuts, turning to him with wild red eyes and screaming, “You! She says you killed my nephew and drowned my son, you traitor! Your corpse will join Zhuzhi-Lang in his grave!”

He flew screeching towards him, and Shen Qingqiu decided this was the perfect opportunity to draw him away from Xin Mo, while very importantly also saving his own skin in the process. He gave Yue Qingyuan their old secret hand signal from decades ago to go for the real target while he acted as a distracting decoy, and the sect leader pulled off from his pursuit of Tianlang-Jun in instant obedience with his strategic call.

That’s it, get Xin Mo! he mentally urged, as he darted away through the air.

Binghe of course understandably didn’t get the silent message and followed in pursuit of his father and the protection of his Shizun.

Tianlang-Jun vomited up another large mouthful of blood as he flew towards him on his red glass-like wings, and three new blood eagles formed from the discarded mouthful and wheeled around to harry him too.

“Shizun!” Binghe shouted frantically. Taking a leaf from his father’s book, he used Zheng Yang as transport while using his own blood to make a backup sword and shot towards them.

“Die!” Tianglang-Jun screamed, as the dark red marks on his body pulsed like veins lit up with fire under the skin. “Die like she commands!”

Shen Qingqiu defended himself frantically, shooting blood eagles from the sky with blasts of qi and looping around in the air, barely dodging Tianlang-Jun’s sword strikes. He lost chunks of his trailing robe and his dignity (and also his precious fan!) and suffered a few minor cuts for the sake of blocking more serious injuries. Those cuts seared like fire, however, and he screamed as agony wracked his body from a relatively shallow wound on one arm. It was like liquid lava, like someone probing inside the wound to scrape at the nerves, and he remembered through the pain that his opponent’s sword had been fashioned directly from his blood.

Tianlang-Jun’s blood mites were going crazy now, and he clutched at his heart as it thundered in his body like it was going to burst. He wavered on Xiu Ya, his vision hazy.

“Binghe!” he called out desperately, wobbling on his sword and angling upwards. If he was going to fall, he needed the height, to give Binghe more time to save him! He didn’t want to go all Anakin Skywalker in that damn lava! “Catch me!”

Binghe ran his father through from behind with a furious scream, then abandoned his blood-sword in his father’s still-moving body and zoomed upwards towards Shen Qingqiu.

He felt the qi stutter in his veins – fuck you very much, System! – and decided to trust. Taking a deep choking breath of the putrid air, he acrobatically leapt off his sword, launching himself up into the air with his tattered black silk robe fluttering around him. He kicked Xiu Ya’s hilt up and caught it with his hand, sheathing it as he let himself fall, in a terrifying pure exercise of total trust. Binghe caught him in his arms just before he hit the ground, and he wrapped his arms around his student’s – his love’s – neck.

“I have you, Shizun,” Binghe said, his eyes and zuiyin blazing.

As Tianlang-Jun watched and laughed and tried to pull out the blood-sword that was slowly dissolving into his own body, Yue Qingyuan chose that moment to strike. Not to seize Xin Mo for their side but to destroy it.

With a roar Yue Qingyuan swung Xuan Su at the cursed sword embedded in the volcanic stone and blazing with demonic qi. Shining pure-white qi met roiling demonic purple-black qi, and with a high-pitched screech of tortured metal the two swords shattered into pieces. The shards sliced through Yue Qingyuan’s body as they exploded outwards in a shockwave of qi with a thunderous boom and a howl like a tortured soul. Neither sword survived the impact; Yue Qingyuan was left holding a hilt with a bare fragment of jagged broken blade left attached, whilst only the barest tip of Xin Mo was left embedded in the ground.

Lava churned and sprayed a hail of burning hot rocks into the air in a ring around the epicentre, rising like a curtain around where Yue Qingyuan was crumpling to the ground in a bloodied mess.

Binghe hunched over to protect Shen Qingqiu’s body from the burning hail of lava and ash, clutching him tight to his chest and hissing as his skin was pelted over and over by the deadly rain.

His qi was still stuttering, but Shen Qingqiu did what he could, focusing on protecting both their heads by blasting the larger rocks and gooey splashes of lava away from them.

“We have to get ge… Yue Qingyuan,” he ordered curtly, and Binghe obediently wheeled down towards their fallen ally, keeping a wary eye out for his father as they flew down.

Tianlang-Jun’s anger was draining away, the receding zuiyin marks let you see it happening; they faded as they watched him guardedly. He was looking dazedly around the ruins of the battlefield at the screaming retreat of both armies and the cracked, ruined landscape.

Shen Qingqiu coughed and hacked as they landed on the tiny island amidst the lava but didn’t let it stop him from struggling free from Binghe’s politely lax grip to rush over to Qi-ge.

Yue Qingyuan was face down on the rock, and he carefully pulled out a shard of metal from one shoulder then rolled him over slowly, ready to pick out more metal, give CPR, or scoop him up as required! He was alive, at least, blinking blearily at him as he struggled to remain conscious. However, he was... oddly injured. His face… his hair… he was so changed. He looked old. Not as old as the Old Palace Master had been, but no longer young. His face was lined, and his hair streaked with grey.

His oldest friend gasped and coughed wetly as he reclined in Shen Qingqiu’s arms, but he smiled as he reached up with a bloodied hand to shakily touch his cheek. “I saved you, Xiao Shen. I came for you. This time… your Qi-ge wasn’t… too… late…”

The hilt of Xuan Su clattered to the ground as his eyes fluttered closed, and Shen Qingqiu scrabbled for the ruined remnant of his sword, sheathing it with desperate haste.

“Binghe!” he screamed. “Your blood mites, hurry!”

Binghe rushed over and bit his own hand then thrust his bleeding fingers in Yue Qingyuan’s mouth. “It will take a moment, Shizun, but I think… I think we’re in time. Shizun, your qi… when you fell…”

“Another flare up, it can wait,” Shen Qingqiu said shortly, putting his ear to Yue Qingyuan’s chest, then pulling away with relief. “He’s still breathing, and his heart is beating.”

“I will save him for you, Shizun,” Binghe promised fervently. “Let me just cleanse your meridians, and I’ll deal with that pest before we go.”

With Qi-ge still cradled in Shen Qingqiu’s lap, Binghe leant across the sect leader’s unconscious body to cradle Shen Qingqiu’s head with both hands, and planted his lips on Shen Qingqiu’s. Binghe groaned softly as he pushed both his tongue and a fresh rush of energy into his blocked meridians, flushing them passably clear in an instant. He nipped at Shen Qingqiu’s lips briefly then drew back with a reluctant, hungry look, brushing away loose bits of hair and smears of blood and ash from Shen Qingqiu’s cheeks.

“I’ll finish this fast,” he promised, hopping on Zheng Yang and reopening the wound on his hand to shed enough blood to form a new sword.

Binghe didn’t need to go far, however, as Tianlang-Jun flapped down to join them. He landed next to the last fragment of Xin Mo, and kicked it free, punting it into the lava where it sank with a hiss and a last flare of demonic qi. “Good riddance,” he said, then tutted unhappily as the flesh of the foot he’d just used to kick the sword shard away started rotting away off his ankle, now barely hanging on and attached to the bone with only a few strands of sinew. His foot was mostly bare bone now, but he seemed oddly calm about not having any working feet, just hovering there with slow beats of his red wings.

“That sword’s qi was dreadful on this body. And I’d been so careful with it up until now!”

Binghe leapt forward with a snarl with his sword raised but froze the instant he heard a scream from behind him.

Shen Qingqiu doubled over in agony over Qi-ge’s body as the emperor’s blood mites tore at his body, and despite his best efforts Binghe was unable to counter them enough to stop the torture.

“Let’s call it a draw, hmm?” Tianlang-Jun suggested, as Binghe concentrated frantically on his blood mites. “A truce, perhaps, for the next day at least?”

“A day’s truce,” Binghe agreed grudgingly, when he realised he couldn’t spare Shen Qingqiu’s suffering now Tianlang-Jun was giving the matter his full attention.

“Cede the south to me. You can keep the north,” Tianlang-Jun said, lazily flapping his blood-wings to stay aloft.

The flesh on the remains of his ankles was oozing and moving; Shen Qingqiu didn’t know if he was healing or rotting, but it was nauseating to watch. He gasped as the pain in his body abated, taking deep breaths and shuddering as his insides healed.

“Remove your blood mites from me, and Liu Qingge too, and you can have Zhuzhi-Lang back… or whatever is left of him,” Shen Qingqiu proposed. “Heavenly demons are tough, and there’s a good chance he survived being frozen.”

“But will he honour the deal and the truce?” Tianlang-Jun asked, looking sceptically at Binghe’s bloodthirsty expression.

“A trade tomorrow at dawn,” he suggested, “where your command tent was, assuming the volcano doesn’t erupt.”

Tianlang-Jun hummed and looked at the ground. “I don’t think it will. That was Xin Mo’s energy driving it, and I believe it’s receding.” He sighed, sounding defeated. “So much for forcing coexistence. I’d planned a quiet and orderly unification of the realms, you know. I wanted peace. Admittedly some deaths, but this madness was… unexpected.”

“I believe you,” he said, and picking up Yue Qingyuan he rose shakily up on his beautiful, reliable Xiu Ya. “Binghe, come.”

“Yes, Shizun, there’s nothing for me here,” he said, with a spiteful look over his shoulder at his father’s hangdog expression as they left.

Chapter Text

Binghe seemed to know exactly where to find Sha Hualing even in the chaos of the battlefield; blood mites seemed the likely reason, but the shimmering rainbow archway with a crush of people and demons shoving and pushing their way through was enough of a clue on its own once they grew close.

She was snarling and shoving and clawing some demons away from their panicked attempts to evacuate through her portal; presumably some of their enemies were eager to abandon the fight in exchange for getting away from ground zero of an erupting volcano.

“Junshang!” she called out excitedly, waving her arm as they flew down. Tiny bells attached to her skimpy red clothing jingled brightly as she waved. “Make way for your Junshang, Emperor Luo of the Northern Demon Realm! Make way for his Shizun, the Xiu Ya Sword, the Qing Jing Peak Lord!”

Their black-and-red clad allies all dropped instantly into low bows – many even grovelled on the ground in a full kowtow – while a scattering of Binghe’s father’s people also cautiously bowed while others fled the scene in heightened panic. The few human cultivators that were left gave polite bows in their general direction that if anyone asked were clearly simple marks of respects to Shen Qingqiu, and not at all driven by fear of facing a demonic emperor. They then pushed forward to hurry through the archway while the demons were all busy grovelling or fleeing. A young woman in the aquamarine robes of Tian Yi with a horsetail whisk tucked into her wide belt flew down with an injured monk in her arms and passed him to another pretty woman who looked identical to her. Her twin rushed though the portal with the bloodied cultivator, and the flyer took off again with only a brief nod of respect to them both.

Two of the three Daoist sister-wives! Shen Qingqiu thought excitedly. Well, not that it matters now. I don’t think Binghe is interested in a harem.

He looked over at him thoughtfully. I mean, he wants me, right? Would he want to… be with me… and have a harem? He wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that.

Binghe, for a rare change, wasn’t looking at him but at the crowd below, as he took a deep breath to yell out a brief speech, enhanced with qi to raise the volume of his voice to a resonant boom. “The Southern Demon Emperor Tianlang-Jun and I have an accord – one day’s truce, with negotiations to be held tomorrow morning. The north has won – the southern emperor is injured and leaves the battlefield in shame, my Shizun and the Northern Desert’s queen-to-be have been rescued, General Zhuzhi-Lang has been captured, and the mad emperor’s plans to ignite the volcano beneath us all have been foiled. The earth still rumbles beneath us, however, so evacuate calmly but quickly, and respect the day’s truce as you do so.”

There was a roar of exultation and cheering from the demons below, who stomped their feet excitedly and called out his name and title in a cacophonous roar.

“Binghe, I have to go!” he yelled, floating over on Xiu Ya to speak right in his ear so as to be heard over the din. “Yue Qingyuan needs Mu-shidi’s help as quickly as possible! But you stay here and tend to your people, then follow us soon!”

Binghe hesitated, then shook his head. “I think I will lose control of the blood mites if I separate from him that far, Shizun!” he yelled back, at a similar volume that made Shen Qingqiu’s ears ring. “He might not make it alive to Mu-shishu if I stay here!”

Shen Qingqiu gave him a pleading look. ‘Please,’ he mouthed silently.

With a smile, Binghe nodded, and then enhanced his voice once again. “General Sha Hualing will lead the troops in an orderly withdrawal!” he bellowed. “Troops of the south, you must find your own way out, unless your clan leaders forswear your old allegiance and pledge to follow me!”

They landed and moved through the cheering crowd – and Binghe kept a hand on the small of his back as they walked, as if nervous he might lose him in the jostling mass.

“How did things go with Jiuchong-Jun, General?” Binghe asked Sha Hualing as they reached the archway.

“My father’s dead!” she replied, brightly and cheerfully. “Guess what?! That pretty Liu Mingyan helped me, and her Shizun too!”

Shen Qingqiu gave her an awkward look, then decided that the easiest way to handle this difficult confrontation with a former enemy and possible romantic rival was a strategic withdrawal. Really, Yue Qingyuan needed immediate help! Those two could catch up later.

Binghe was right by his side as they returned to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect in a blink of shimmering light, arriving directly on Qian Cao Peak where an organised group of disciples were performing triage and keeping people moving quickly away from their arrival point, to avoid creating a bottleneck.

The cheering at their triumphant return was tempered by gasps and murmurs of concern upon seeing the sect leader’s condition, and they were rushed away for priority treatment from Mu Qingfang.

Shen Qingqiu hovered worriedly, his own small wounds tended by a fluttering, worried outer disciple while Mu-shidi worked on Yue Qingyuan. The disciple wiped the bite mark on his shoulder clean and applied some ointment before bandaging it up, then started tending his other cuts.

He told Mu Qingfang all about the sect leader’s qi-linked sword and Luo Binghe’s blood mites – this was no time to hide secrets that might kill him – and Mu-shidi made an immediate diagnosis of ‘critically low qi’.

Mu Qingfang started an energy transfer and began an acupuncture placement of silver needles at key points on the sect leader’s body, trying to reopen ‘collapsing’ meridians.

“Shizun, this disciple should see to his people who’ve come through to this side,” Luo Binghe said cautiously. “My blood mites will continue to keep him stable until Mu-shishu sends someone to alert me that my intervention is no longer needed.”

With a distracted nod, Mu Qingfang said, “Please do. Many are nervous on both sides, and already some small fights have broken out.”

Luo Binghe hovered a moment longer until Shen Qingqiu also gave his nod of approval, then was off.

“Did Liu Qingge make it back safely?” he checked, as Mu Qingfang worked.

“Not yet,” he replied, “but his sister did; she saw him beating back demons and rescuing our disciples, so I think he’s fine. Shang Qinghua is unaccounted for, and we have many injured but thankfully few losses.”

Mobei-Jun must have brought her back from the north – good.

“Qinghua is fine; Mobei-Jun evacuated him. Ning Yingying? Ming Fan?”

“Both safe,” his shidi promised. “Now, either go and investigate who’s returned for yourself, or stay quiet and let me concentrate, Shen-shixiong.”

He shushed and stayed put. Eventually Yue Qingyuan began to stir, his eyes fluttering open weakly. He smiled when he saw Shen Qingqiu sitting by his bedside.

“I did it,” he rasped. “I saved you.”

Shen Qingqiu glared at him sternly. “In the most idiotic manner possible! Why didn’t you just throw the cursed sword into the lava? Xuan Su shattered.”

“You’re lucky to be alive,” Mu Qingfang added, “and that’s only due to Luo-shizhi’s demonic blood mites. You’re infested, Zhangmen-shixiong, but without that your heart would have stopped beating… multiple times. Frankly I’m concerned it still might, should they be removed. You’ll need to spend at least half a year meditating in the Ling Xi Caves to restore your qi, and I’m not even sure that–”

Mu Qingfang bit off the rest of his sentence, patting him on the shoulder. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have scolded. Just rest, for now. Husband your qi, there’s a total ban on energy techniques, do not touch what remains of Xuan Su, and try and meditate or sleep.”

“Xiao Shen, everyone knows demonic swords are heat resistant,” Yue Qingyuan chided. He totally ignored Mu Qingfang which earned him a frustrated look with rolled eyes that he clearly neither noticed (and probably wouldn’t have cared about if he had). “Throwing it into the lava would either have at best done nothing, or at worst it would have worked. It might have sunk deep into the mountain’s heart and the explosion of demonic qi upon its destruction would have triggered the volcano’s eruption.”

Shen Qingqiu huffed and folded his arms. He’d raised an annoyingly fair point, though it’d seemed to him the shards weren’t too lava resistant… he thought. To be fair he’d only seen one sink into the lava, not melt, and a damaged shard wouldn’t have the resilience the whole sword had.

“Removing it was too difficult a concept? You could have simply given it to Binghe.”

“Xiao Shen, we tried. We both did. Twenty years ago he was a strong opponent for the full might of the Four Sects. He seemed weaker today, but still too strong for a mere handful of us. We did our best, imperfect though it was. And I cannot regret my actions when I can see that I saved your life.” His mouth curved up in a smug grin that accentuated the deep smile lines curving up from his mouth to his nose, and the pleased permanent crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

“At the cost of your own!”

“I’m still alive, aren’t I? And it still would have been worth it if I hadn’t survived.”

Mu Qingfang clapped his hands sharply. “Certainly not, and you’re not dying on my watch! Alright shixiong, it’s time to go, you’re stealing all my patient’s attention. He needs tea, meditation, and a lot of rest. You may return tomorrow, now you’ve seen he’s stable.”

Shen Qingqiu sighed and headed for the door, turning back with a final warning. “Don’t let him do anything stupid, Mu-shidi.”

“Mn.” A tired grunt of acknowledgement was all he got; it wasn’t much of a promise. Perhaps he knew the challenging level of the task he’d just set him.

“You’re welcome, Xiao Shen!” Yue Qingyuan called out brightly as he left.

He snorted. Idiot Qi-ge! If he’d just gotten Xin Mo to Binghe, he would surely have won!

Crippling his cultivation needlessly for the sake of one person was idi… well it was uh… Come to think of it, perhaps it was understandable in the heat of the moment to perhaps make sub-optimal choices when you were fearful that someone you cared for might die.

Perhaps this pot shouldn’t call the kettle black.

-000-

His students were all fine – or at least not critically injured. He wasn’t permitted to go through the portal back to the battlefield to retrieve a few lost lambs who were yet to return, as Binghe had set Ning Yingying to guard the way back with instructions not to let him through under any circumstances.

“Luo-shidi says you have blood mites that make you vulnerable to the Southern Emperor killing you in the blink of an eye if he’s not around to counter them,” she explained. “So, he asked me to remind you not to risk yourself needlessly.”

“But what if I–”

“No.”

“If I’m fast I could really be helpful–”

Ning Yingying narrowed her eyes and glared at him, her lips set in a cute, stubborn pout. “Respectfully, Shizun, if you try and go through that portal I will scream. And then I will follow you. Do you want me to do that?”

Her right arm was probably broken, as it was wrapped up in a sling. No, I do not want her to do that. His shoulders fell in a slump.

“Perhaps Shizun could help escort some demons off the mountain?” she offered, sounding more perky than a disciple with a broken arm had any right to. “They will respect Shizun, for Luo-shidi’s sake!”

“Fine,” he said grudgingly.

It turned out to be a more fun task than he’d expected. It was cool to have a little squad of demons snapping to attention when they saw him and obediently trotting after him like he had the right to boss them around. They eagerly introduced themselves to him – some of them had the most ridiculous names – and seemed pleased when he asked with concern about whether they had any injuries that needed to be tended to before they departed.

“We’re fine!”

“A little scratch like this isn’t going to stop me.”

“Nothing to worry about, Peak Lord!”

“Just a few cuts, Shizun!”

He snorted and almost patted that one on his grimy, ash-covered head before he caught himself.

“Well, I can see your Junshang has some brave and robust troops,” he praised, “your help in my rescue and courage in facing Tianlang-Jun’s army was invaluable.”

They puffed up happily and chattered about how strong they were, all the way to rejoining the rest of the assembled demonic army gathering at the base of Qian Cao Peak.

A mild-looking demon with deer-like antlers on his head tugged on his sleeve. “Excuse me ah… Shizun?” he asked quietly. “Do you think Emperor Luo would accept the Deer Clan’s allegiance? We don’t live that far south, we’re practically on the border of the Northern Demon Realm! And if he does, will he help us drive off the Ox Clan? They have been increasingly invading our lands and soiling our sacred river, you see…”

Oh! I know this one! The Deer Princess, wife #134!

“Ah, that’s because the Ox Clan has been suffering from a plague of ticks that has been slowly growing worse!” he explained. “They don’t even want to use the river, they don’t like water, they’re just trying to rid themselves of insects. The solution to your problem would be the reintroduction of the Buphagus Birds…”

He rambled happily to a couple of deer-demons about the demonic clans’ interactions and what had happened to drive the birds off, and how he was certain that Emperor Binghe could easily slay the deadly tree-dwelling monster that had been eating so many of the birds. Then he could negotiate with the Ox Clan to the benefit of all the clans.

He was still talking to them – and a few other curious eavesdroppers – when Binghe arrived, his demonic features on full display and a bright smile on his face as he saw Shen Qingqiu chatting away happily amidst a crowd of demons.

“Shizun! Have my people been treating you with respect?” he checked.

“Oh, they’re fine,” he said, smiling back. “This one wants his Deer Clan to join your empire; I advise in favour of accepting.”

“Shizun has been explaining how you can deal with the Ox Clan for us!” the deer demon said. Its ears moved back and forth in tiny contented movements, and its stubby little fluff of a tail swished gently.

“I am sure he has the right of it, he will make the wisest of advisors,” Binghe said, starry-eyed.

“Well, I do know a few things that may be of use,” he said modestly.

Binghe stepped closer – perhaps too close. “How are you feeling, Shizun? Do you need any… anything from me?”

I think he doesn’t want to mention Without a Cure in front of so many demons who might see it as a weakness, but I think that’s what he’s hinting at!

He coughed and took a step backward, fumbling in the remains of his torn sleeve for a fan that wasn’t there. “Ah, I remember, I lost my fan,” he said, with a disappointed sigh. “And I just got Hatsune Miku back again, too! Liu Qingge is right; I should be more careful with them.”

He felt suddenly self-conscious as he realised what a bedraggled appearance he must be showing to the small army of demons – and Binghe! – with a ripped, low-cut black robe on, and no fan to hide his embarrassed face. Not to mention blood and ash everywhere!

“Thank you all for answering your Junshang’s call and coming to my aid, and fighting Tianlang-Jun,” he said loudly, and did a small polite bow to them all. It would have been deeper, but Luo Binghe caught him by the elbow to stop him short. “This master will not forget this day, and I hope it leads to better relations between our peoples.”

“I will join you at our home soon, Shizun,” Binghe said loudly, his eyes following him as he left.

He headed back to Qing Jing Peak in search of a desperately needed bath and a sit down to catch his breath and sort out his terribly muddled thoughts and feelings. Tea. A nice hot bath and some tea will help.

First there were some anxious little ducklings on Qing Jing Peak to reassure as he tiredly made his way home to the Bamboo House, but he managed to placate them well enough to hold them for now, and also finagled a couple of the youngest ones – whiny at missing out on all the ‘fun’ – into filling a bathtub for him. He got his bath and was wearing a blissfully clean and modest new green robe when Ming Fan found him.

“Shizun! There you are!” he cried with relief. “I’ve been chasing you ever since I heard you left Qian Cao! Shizun, there’s all kinds of sect leaders like Abbot Wu Wang and head disciples from other sects still lingering around Cang Qiong, and we need someone to talk to them! You’re second ranked, and since Zhangmen-shibo is incapacitated…”

“No-one else can do it?” he asked optimistically, but with a sinking feeling because honestly, he already knew the answer.

“Wei Qingwei is third ranked, and he’s still on the battlefield, as is Liu-shishu for that matter. Shang Qinghua is fourth and still missing, though I heard he is with that pet demon informant of his! I’m sure he’s okay, Shizun,” he reassured, as if Shen Qingqiu didn’t already know and might be fretting over his friend’s fate.

Hah! He knew exactly where that slacker shidi of his had gotten to! He’s holed up in the Northern Palace having his scrapes fussed over by his baobei, no doubt! Hopefully he’ll pop back to the battlefield eventually and hear about the truce in time. We need Zhuzhi-Lang alive as a bargaining chip; and really the poor thing probably doesn’t deserve death, even though he did kidnap me.

“Qi Qingqi is just really busy, Shizun, and anyway it would be an insult to send our fifth-ranked Peak Lord to deal with all the politics when you’re available, Shizun,” Ming Fan concluded.

No tea, he thought sadly, letting out a little sigh.

“Alright then,” he said, levering himself to his feet. He grabbed a couple of accessories before he left to complete his outfit and for emotional support in the face of all the arse-kissing he was going to have to do. He hung his favourite silver Totoro yaopei from his belt and grabbed his Mewtwo bamboo fan.

No rest for the wicked!

-000-

Luo Binghe was hovering. He stubbornly joined him on all his visits to Qian Cao to see Yue Qingyuan, who was slowly coming to terms with the news that his qi reserves had been halved or worse, and that the aging of his body was permanent. There was at least some hope that his meridians might recover with time and extensive cultivation. Soon Yue Qingyuan would go into seclusion in the Ling Xi Caves (despite his strenuous objections about the plan), so he was visiting his gege while he still could. Luo Binghe was always there again to escort him home afterwards. He was also there at the end of every class to walk him the scant few metres to home. When he played the guqin Luo Binghe was his most attentive audience, dropping whatever he was doing to listen. When it reached the point that Shen Qingqiu could barely manage five minutes to himself to change his clothes without his disciple rapping at the door asking if he was okay, he decided enough was enough.

“Binghe, this is getting ridiculous,” he said, emerging from his room with his robes all sorted but his hair still long and loose. “I just got distracted reading, nothing is wrong because I took longer getting up this morning. There’s still at least another shichen or more before your shishu is due to visit; I have time! You don’t need to check on me.”

His disciple – far from looking repentant at his mother henning – lit up on seeing him come out with his hair still unbound, and darted into Shen Qingqiu’s bedroom to retrieve a comb and hair crown. “I understand, Shizun. It won’t happen again,” he said, like a little liar.

They sat in relative silence for a while as Shen Qingqiu pondered how best to tackle the topic of Binghe’s hovering, and Binghe happily hummed the Neon Genesis Evangelion theme song as he slowly brushed his hair with great care, his fingers detangling the largest knots before he started combing it straight. There was always something deeply adorable about Binghe absorbing bits of pop culture, Shen Qingqiu couldn’t help smiling as he listened to that melodious hum.

Still, Binghe’s fretting still needed to be addressed. “Binghe, have you been experiencing any bullying or harassment, now your heritage and demonic status is known? Is that why you’re nervous about leaving my side? Or is there trouble in the demon realm you’re avoiding?”

Binghe combed his hair quietly for a moment. “No trouble with my small empire, Shizun; Sha Hualing and Mobei-Jun are handling everything. I haven’t had any problems of note here on Qing Jing Peak, Shizun; everyone knows of your support and acceptance. A few of the Bai Zhan Peak disciples have been particularly bothersome, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

He frowned. “I will speak to Liu-shidi about it when he arrives.”

“You know, Shizun, I could clear your meridians too,” he suggested, in a seductive deep voice rather than his more practised high-pitched childish whine he usually employed when trying to get his way.

He heard the comb being set down and felt BInghe’s hands smooth down his hair to rest on his suddenly tense shoulders, massaging them gently. He didn’t want to tell him to stop because… because Binghe’s feelings would be hurt.

“There’s nothing he can do for you that I can’t do better,” Binghe purred, his palms kneading at the tight muscles, forcing them to relax. “Do you remember, Shizun? How it felt? Wouldn’t a kiss be even better now we can take our time? You know, I met with Madam Meiyin in the Demon Realm, and she told me–”

Shen Qingqiu let out a panicked squawk at the mention of the infamous succubus, and batted Binghe’s hands off his shoulders. “Nope! No. No thank you, Binghe. No emergency kisses required! We’re… we’re not even officially courting!”

“We could be, Shizun,” Binghe pleaded, resuming his work on Shen Qingqiu’s hair, but more efficiently now, putting it half up in a knot and securing the little bun with the hair crown. “Can we be? I even have courting gifts ready for you!”

He moved around to the front of the chair now, standing in front of him, and Shen Qingqiu blushed at the intense look in his eyes.

“I… there are things we should talk about,” Shen Qingqiu started nervously. “I know this master’s reputation is… not always the best but… I haven’t done any of this before. And certainly not with a man!”

“I can be patient!” Binghe promised, clasping his hands. “Haven’t I proven that already?”

“Um. I need to know… is Binghe sure? That he wouldn’t rather be with a woman?” he checked. “Liu Mingyan is very pretty. And you seemed close with Sha Hualing… Would Binghe really be happy with just this master?”

“Yes, Shizun! I am very sure, and there is no-one else for me. Shizun is the only one in my heart and always will be!”

“No harem?” he double-checked. “No women, no other men?”

Binghe squeezed his hands. “No-one else, Shizun. Never.”

He nodded shakily. “I suppose without Xin Mo your uh… needs would be less.”

“Not as much as you might think, Shizun,” he said, loosening the grip on Shen Qingqiu’s hands so that he could stroke and caress them. “I can’t imagine ever not desiring you.” A faint blush dusted his cheeks with pink as he spoke.

Shen Qingqiu pulled his hands away nervously and fumbled at his empty sleeve for a fan that wasn’t there.

Binghe reached into his own sleeve and pulled out a folded fan, passing it to him with a smile. “Here, Shizun, please accept this fan.”

“Thank you, Binghe,” he replied, gratefully taking it and flipping it open, hiding his face.

“I am so glad you accepted my first courting gift,” Binghe said smugly. “I painted it myself.”

With a strangled noise he looked more carefully at the fan, flipping it over to see the painted design. It was Ryuk from Death Note, posed in a classical Chinese style like a god, holding an apple aloft in one hand and a black book in the other.

“Binghe,” he breathed softly, turning it in his hands to admire it from all angles, “it’s beautiful.”

“Shizun… Qingqiu,” Binghe said intensely, “will you please accept my suit? I promise to be the best wife you could ever hope for.”

“Wife!” he yelped.

“Or husband! Qingqiu can marry into my family if he prefers,” Binghe offered. “Neither of us have family to push for one over the other, so it would be more about rank and appearances. Wouldn’t I make you a good wife, Shizun? I look after your home well, don’t I?”

“Binghe is speaking nonsense,” he said sternly.

“Is that… a ‘no’?” Binghe asked, his eyes wide and pitiful.

“I… this master is not a cut-sleeve,” he said cautiously.

“I thought… that you liked me,” Binghe said worriedly. “You kissed me, Shizun!”

“I do! I don’t like men in general, but I like… I like Binghe. A lot,” he said shyly, hiding behind his fan and looking away. “It’s… it’s a maybe. Just… go slow.”

Binghe beamed at him. “One kiss?”

Shen Qingqiu hesitated. It wouldn’t hurt to be sure if he liked it or not, right? Now he could concentrate on the sensation instead of the rush of energy?

“Just one,” he conceded, blushing but lowering his fan obligingly.

Binghe put his hands on the top of Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders and tilted his head as he leant down to kiss him as soft as a feather, before pressing more firmly against his lips, his tongue pushing to enter.

Shen Qingqiu sighed in pleasure as he parted his lips, setting his fan aside on the table and reaching up to wrap his hands around Binghe’s back.

Binghe kissed him hungrily, greedily, his teeth nipping at his lips as he gave a guttural moan.

Shen Qingqiu pulled back, but Binghe chased his lips, stealing a couple of extra kisses before straightening up.

“Enough, stop!” he said. “Don’t make me hit you with my beautiful new fan! Also, that’s too much use of your teeth, Binghe. Don’t gnaw on me.”

“Sorry, Shizun,” he said, biting his own lip as he looked down at where Shen Qingqiu was sitting, flushed with wet, reddened lips. “I’ll do better next time.”

“See that you do,” he said sternly. Binghe just beamed at him, though. He was hard to discipline, sometimes. He seemed to love being told off! “Sit down now, you’re making my old neck ache looking up at you like that.”

Binghe sat, gazing at him expectantly, like there was nothing else he wanted or needed to do more than to just wait for him.

How long exactly has he been waiting for me?! he wondered.

He coughed awkwardly. “Binghe still hasn’t answered this mast… this Shen Qingqiu about why he has been hovering around so much. Be honest. If it is not from fear of your fellow disciples, is Binghe’s stickiness a way of courting? It’s… it’s a bit much.”

He really wanted a chance to gossip privately with Shang Qinghua, now that his fiancé had finally let him return to An Ding. That certainly wouldn’t happen with Binghe’s inevitable eavesdropping, the way things were at the moment.

“It’s just… what if you get kidnapped again?” Binghe admitted quietly. “What if the moment I leave, I lose you? Tianlang-Jun will recover from his injuries, and there’s Zhuzhi-Lang to worry about as well. When we traded him back, and Tianlang-Jun removed all the blood mites from you and Liu-shishu… he removed mine from you as well. So, I just… I can’t tell where you are, or if you’re safe.”

He nodded slowly. In Proud Immortal Demon Way, Binghe always gave his wives his blood so he could track them and heal them; wife plots were a constant source of trouble, and Binghe needed the surety of knowing he’d be able to help them when something went wrong, as it inevitably did (as least for the important, memorable wives). “I understand. I will try to be more accommodating, if Binghe will try and relax a little bit more when I’m in the company of others who could also raise an alarm.”

“Yes, Shizun.”

-000-

After that heartfelt talk about boundaries… Luo Binghe was still sticky. He wouldn’t leave the room when Liu Qingge was visiting, and he accompanied Shen Qingqiu like a burr every single time he left Qing Jing Peak. But… he was trying. He didn’t walk him to and from classes anymore, and waited more patiently for him to emerge from his bedroom in the mornings.

He also wheedled Shen Qingqiu into kissing him every morning – just once – in a way that was quickly becoming a habit.

Shen Qingqiu finally managed to convince him to go check on the Northern Demon Realm with Mobei-Jun’s assistance in making the trip there, while Shang Qinghua stayed with him for company and acted as a ‘just in case’ guard.

Binghe’s fretting was obvious enough that it made Mobei-Jun speak up to reassure him. “Qinghua is protected with two amulets and has three alert talismans. He will warn us both if anything happens, and I will bring you home at once, Junshang.”

Shang Qinghua was prompted to temporarily give two of the three talismans into Shen Qingqiu’s keeping, and finally Mobei-Jun whisked the two of them away.

“Whew! I thought he’d never leave!” Shang Qinghua said, with a huff and a laugh. “So, how’s things, Cucumber? Me, I’m in the middle of wedding planning. It’s months off at least, but it looks like I might even be able to y’know, invite our fellow peak lords to the ceremony! It’s going to be all diplomatic and lavish and shit.”

“Should be fun. Unless your guests start doing that ritual fight thing.”

“Nah bro, we’ll set up a duelling ring outside so no-one ruins the banquet hall,” he said, unpacking a qiankun pouch.

“Northern Desert Cloudberries for us to share as a snack!” he said happily, revealing the bowl of golden-yellow berries that resembled small, plump raspberries. “You’ll share some of the protagonist’s cooking too, right Cucumber-bro?”

He snorted but obliged, breaking out the ‘good stuff’ for his friend – the large caches of pastries, biscuits, and dumplings Binghe kept around just in case Shizun felt hungry enough to eat a horse.

“So, how’s the courting going?” Qinghua asked. “I heard he’s been giving you merch!”

“We’re not courting,” he said, “but I have some cool new stuff, it’s true. You wanna see?”

“Sure!”

He led his friend over to his merch shelf. “Look! He found me a giant night pearl for my Goku figurine,” he said proudly, tapping it with a finger to give it a jot of qi so it glowed. “Cool, huh?”

“That’s so nice, look at the size of it!”

“I know, right?!” he said excitedly. “And look at this, it’s a Hatsune Miku statuette with her as a siren! Binghe had it commissioned and it’s based on the painting of her I did for my poor lost fan! Binghe borrowed it for the sculptor to see! Alas poor fan, it fell in the lava. I have a new fan, though! Did you see my Death Note fan yet?”

He showed it off then dragged him into his bedroom. “I got another fan from Binghe, too! It’s not a folding fan though, it’s one of those fixed flat ones, and it’s too big for the shelf so I put it up on the wall.”

“He doesn’t mind you not using it? …Oh,” Shang Qinghua said, his eyes widening as he looked at it. “I see.”

It certainly was beautiful, if too large for everyday use as it wouldn’t tuck away in a sleeve or even in his belt very handily. It was a rigid circle of sheer black silk stretched over a dyed-red ivory circular frame with a handle at the bottom. In pride of place in the centre of the fan was Binghe’s zuiyin, the brilliant red flame of his demon mark. Around the circumference of the fan, chasing each other head to tail, a red five-clawed dragon with black claws and a scarlet phoenix with green eyes formed a stunning border. The artistry in the fine details was amazing.

“He had it commissioned, based on a sketch he’d done,” Shen Qingqiu said. “Isn’t it amazing?”

“I can see why he’s happy for it to stay on the wall for now. Bro, that is a tuan shan fan.”

“I know, right! It’s so cool. Imagine how much this would cost back home! If you look closely you can see a little bit of beadwork – those eyes are tiny gemstones, and so are the claws! The frame is ivory, made from the tusk of a Black Moon Rhinoceros-Python!” he gushed. “And he’s had Mewtwo carved onto the ivory handle, look, look!”

He lifted it down carefully off the wall and handed it to him so he could appreciate it properly.

“Cheaper than that night pearl. Look, those are imperial symbols on the fan, you know that, right? The five claws on the dragon, and also the phoenix.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well duh, Binghe’s an emperor!”

“That fan is a wedding fan. For the rite of Que Shan, where the bride coyly hides her face during the ceremony.”

He gaped a little. “But… no. It’s merch.”

“It’s a que shan bridal fan,” Qinghua insisted, handing him the fan back gently.

Shen Qingqiu turned to hang it back up carefully. “We’re not engaged. We’re not even courting.”

“In what way are you not courting, exactly?” Airplane asked sceptically.

“Well… we… we didn’t agree to.”

“I guarantee you my son thinks you’re courting, with gifts like that,” Qinghua said, with a laugh. “Speaking of my heroic protagonist, I can’t believe that painting!” He let out a low, impressed whistle.

He latched onto the change of topic gratefully. “I finished painting that just before the war and Binghe’s big reveal of his heritage, which is why I kept it hidden in here. Since his zuiyin and ears and everything are on display in his portrait.”

“Mmm, in all his bedroom-eyed, chest-bared demonic glory,” Qinghua said, with an appreciative – and annoying – hum. “Rawr! That’s such a sexy look. Like he wants to take the viewer straight to his bed. Hungry eyes. It’s way better than my original merch! I went with the cheapest bidder to do my art. Did he pose for you? You painted his expression so well, bro.”

“That’s not a special look,” he replied, bewildered. “That’s just how he normally… That’s how he always looks when he’s staring!”

Shang Qinghua grinned as he bit his lip and wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “I just bet he does, you dog!”

Oh. My. God. He stared at the painting himself. He does, he looks at me like that so often. Like he wants to take me to bed.

-000-

Hours later, after Shang Qinghua had left and Binghe had relievedly checked in to make sure he hadn’t suffered so much as a scratch in his brief absence, he left a night pearl glowing so he could admire Binghe’s portrait as he lay in bed. Binghe’s image stared at him hungrily, robes askew revealing his toned, muscular chest.

He wants me. Those are courting gifts. He wants me. I don’t understand why… but he really does.

What the protagonist wanted, the protagonist would always get in the end, right?

It’s not really gay if you only like just one man. He’s like, an exception to the rule. Binghe would be the exception to anyone’s rule! He seduced virgins, and lesbians, and nagas and mermaids who should realistically only be attracted to their own species! Anyone would be attracted to him! Who wouldn’t want to take the protagonist to their bed? Have him kiss them and… and touch them.

He bit his lip nervously as he stared up at the godlike physique in his painting, and his hand strayed over his own chest then down to grasp at his stiffening cock. Unlike on other occasions when he’d been determinedly thinking about women while trying to pleasure himself, he didn’t lose his erection when staring at Binghe’s portrait and thinking of his hungry kisses. Well, he didn’t lose it until he made a sticky mess all over his hand, to be more precise.

He panted, in a daze, and gazed up at Binghe’s ever-insatiable stare. I should get him some courting gifts too.

Chapter Text

Binghe invited him to go for a walk after an early dinner one evening, in the twilight.

“The sunset over the mountains is beautiful, Shizun, will you watch it with me?” he asked.

Shen Qingqiu couldn’t see any reason to say no.

Binghe tucked his hand in the crook of Shen Qingqiu’s arm to lead him down a path through the bamboo and trees, headed for a rocky outcrop on the western side of Qing Jing Peak. And then just… didn’t let go. When Shen Qingqiu merely gave him an indulgent smile he beamed back, and snuggled in closer, clinging closely to his arm more like a flirtatious pretty wife than a big manly disciple!

“Silly thing,” Shen Qingqiu said fondly, and patted him on the head with his free hand.

They sat down together on a large flat rock to watch the sunset together, and Binghe nestled into his side, giving Shen Qingqiu’s cheek a sneaky little kiss and then resting his head on his shoulder.

The valleys below were filled with soft mist, but up on the peak the air was clear. The western horizon was a bright streak of yellow with a layer above that of vibrant orange clouds. Further up in the sky the clouds grew darker; indigo dusted with peach.

Shen Qingqiu dropped a little kiss on the top of Binghe’s fluffy head, then hid his face innocently behind his Ryuk fan when Binghe’s head perked up like an excited puppy and he turned to look at him like he was expecting a treat.

He hummed a little song, innocent as a lamb. Kiss, what kiss? I’m a perfectly respectable peak lord! I would never kiss my student out of nowhere.

Binghe laughed at him. “Shizun, I know you kissed me. I can see you smiling.”

He continued humming determinedly under his breath. I have no idea what you mean.

“Shizun? If the song is about what you’re feeling, will you sing to me the words you don’t want to speak?” Binghe asked sweetly, then rested his head back down on Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder, giving the illusion of privacy offered by not staring at him so intently.

He cleared his throat and sang.

     “When did he get to be a beauty?
     When did he grow to be so tall?
     Wasn't it yesterday when he was small?

     Sunrise, sunset
     Sunrise, sunset
     Swiftly flow the days
     Seedlings turn overnight to sunflowers
     Blossoming even as we gaze–”

“Shizun,” Binghe sighed, nuzzling in even closer and rubbing his cheek on Shen Qingqiu’s chest. The top of his head accidentally bumped his teacher’s chin, cutting off the song abruptly.

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Binghe,” he cooed back, echoing him in a similarly loving tone.

Binghe twisted across his body to catch him for a kiss, granted willingly. Then another, and a third. He pushed a little energy into the fourth kiss, pouring his qi into Shen Qingqiu’s meridians.

“I’m fine, Binghe,” he tutted, pulling away… but not too far.

Binghe determinedly tucked himself snugly against his side, and Shen Qingqiu wrapped an arm around him.

“You’re still poisoned, Shizun. That’s not fine. Didn’t Mu Qingfang say you’d been doing oddly better lately though?” Luo Binghe took a deep breath and looked at him intensely. “I have been doing some research in the demon realm… back before the fight with my father. That’s part of why I was willing to leave you, you see. Anyway, I ended up talking with Madam Meiyin about the powers of heavenly demons, Shizun, and–”

He jerked in sudden panic. “No! I’m perfectly fine, thank you!”

“Shizun, I think I can cure you,” Binghe said, his eyes intense and dark.

“It’s not like we’re married… we’re not even courting!” he protested, blushing and letting his arm drop away from embracing Binghe. He hid behind his trusty Ryuk fan, a paper shield between himself and too many feelings.

Binghe’s eyes narrowed. “Shizun.”

“No! I’m fine, thank you!”

“Shizun,” he repeated loudly. “Why aren’t you assuming I’m talking about using my blood mites? Or even having your meridians cleared more often?”

He froze, his fan’s fluttering stilling in the evening air. “Um.”

“Shizun, you know.”

He turned his head away, his long hair flicking across Binghe’s face as his disciple leant in close to stare right at him. What an amazing sunset in the western sky! Worthy of attention!

“How do you know? How long have you known?”

“Look at those colours! Would you say those clouds are more indigo or violet?”

“Weeks? …Months? …Years? Shizun, have you known for years?”

He sighed, and folded his fan. He rested his forehead against it, praying for strength and composure. Guanyin, have mercy! He took a deep breath and turned to face Binghe, whose face was full of sheer amazement.

“This master would never have taken advantage of a young student for any reason. And even older… you might have felt obliged, and such matters… they should um… only be done with full consent between adults. And ideally… with love.”

He dropped his gaze to look down at his hands twisting together in his lap around his fan, unable to maintain his serene master countenance a moment longer in the face of Binghe’s shining, hungry eyes. He understood what that look meant, now!

“I’m twenty now, Shizun. Almost twenty-one. My love you will have always. My consent you will have with but a word,” he said eagerly. “If you would prefer us to be courting or… or married first before dual c–”

“Shh!” he hushed. “My poor thin face won’t bear it. We both know what we’re talking about. Don’t… just don’t say it.”

“Can we at least be courting, Shizun,” he pleaded, sliding a hand onto his lap to capture one of his nervous clenched hands. “Let me prove what a good spouse I can be to you.”

Shen Qingqiu tugged his hand away, and Binghe’s face instantly fell into his teary-eyed pleading puppy-like look that he was weak to.

“Tch, silly thing, I just need my hands free to get something out for you,” he said, tutting as he reached into a loose flowing sleeve, to put away his fan and bring out the qiankun pouch discreetly secured inside it. “I have been thinking about… courting. Um. This is for you, Binghe.”

He drew out a smallish red lacquered wooden box about the size of a book, though that wasn’t what it held inside.

His chest rose and fell as he took another shaky breath. “It’s a… courting gift. From me. If Binghe would like to accept it. I hope you like it.”

“Shizun, I would accept and treasure anything you gave me,” Binghe vowed tearily, his hand on his heart.

I hope he’s thinking of the jade necklace I gave him that he’s wearing, and not the scar on his chest he insisted on keeping!

Binghe undid the brass clasp and opened the shallow box with reverent care, lifting out two thick gold bangles with shaking hands. A matched set, they featured a dragon and a phoenix facing each other with a double happiness symbol in the middle, with decorative swirling clouds around them. A traditional bridal gift, but he had a feeling Binghe wouldn’t mind that. Hopefully he really did like them, because they’d cost him a small fortune in spirit stones! Luckily, he had a small fortune lying around from his winnings at the Immortal Alliance Conference; he’d never had the heart to spend them before now.

With singular focus, Binghe slid both bangles onto his own wrists and made sure they were latched safely.

“Does Binghe accept this master’s formal offer of courting?” He waited a few seconds, but Binghe was just staring at the bracelets.

“Um. Do you not like them? I had a second gift idea? But there’s not a box or anything, it’s more symbolic…” he trailed off. “Binghe? Are you alright?”

Binghe raised his head and stared at him blankly, then blurted out, “Marry me.”

He choked and raised a hand to his mouth. “Binghe!”

His free hand was grabbed in desperation by both of Binghe’s. “Please. Please! I promised to be patient, but you’ve given me a gift for our wedding and I just can’t wait any longer. I have to… please Shizun, I love you more than life itself. At your word I will conquer the world. At your smile I will throw away my empire for your sake. A kiss from you and I’ll be your slave for the rest of my life. Please, I cannot live without you at my side, I love you and will treasure you to my final breath, and I will devote my life to your happiness. Shen Qingqiu, will you marry me? Join my family, or let me marry into yours, it doesn’t matter which so long as I can be with you forever.”

“Binghe,” he said, with a blush, as his heart pounded a frantic beat in his chest. “How could I say no to that? Yes, I will marry you. You are the centre of my world. How could I live without you?”

He half expected Binghe to leap upon him like a rabid animal, but he burst into tears instead. “I’m so happy, Shizun!” he blubbered, clinging to him.

Ah, at least he’s a pretty crier!

They returned a little later to the Bamboo House a little dishevelled as they flew through the moonlit sky… but with Without a Cure still in effect.

“What if we were in a proper bed, Shizun?”

“No,” he repeated sternly. “We will wait for the wedding.”

Binghe held his hand as they walked inside. “Shizun? You mentioned a second gift?”

“Oh! Yes, well, I know you have been fretting… Um, do you trust me?”

“With my life,” Binghe swore.

He held still as Shen Qingqiu drew his sword, though his eyes widened.

Holding Binghe’s hand firmly he drew Xiu Ya’s razor-sharp edge over his disciple’s fingertips, drawing a thin line of blood, then he set his sword aside.

“Binghe, I want you to know I trust you too,” he said softly, and he lifted Binghe’s hand up and sucked Binghe’s bleeding fingers into his mouth.

Binghe whined high and desperate as Shen Qingqiu’s tongue swirled around his fingers, and his wet mouth sucked hard, drawing Binghe’s blood deep into his body.

He pulled off and lapped at the stray trickle of blood that had run down onto Binghe’s palm. “Don’t let this scar now,” he warned, and his lips tickled Binghe’s skin as he spoke.

“Shizun, when you said we have to wait for the wedding, did you mean wait for everything? Because I would dearly like to return the favour and suck–”

“Binghe!” he yelped.

-000-

Wanting as short an engagement as possible but determined to have the showy wedding of his dreams, Binghe became something of a bridezilla. Shen Qingqiu just tried to stay out of his way and agreed to almost everything he proposed as the easiest way to keep the peace.

Shang Qinghua had been conscripted as the wedding’s official ‘matchmaker’ and general wedding planner dogsbody, which he whined about regularly to Shen Qingqiu. However, he was too twitchy to complain directly to Luo Binghe, who was under the impression that his shishu was just as excited about organising the wedding as he was.

“It’s good practice for my own wedding, I suppose,” Shang Qinghua grudgingly conceded, one evening after a long bitch session about his difficulties in sourcing spider silk. “Do you know your birth date? I don’t think I ever picked one for Shen Jiu, and Yue Qingyuan found him as an infant so he won’t know either. Binghe’s been reading up on the Six Rites and insists we pick an auspicious wedding date based on your horoscopes.”

Shen Qingqiu gave him Shen Yuan’s birthday, and the zodiac year he’d been born in. “Pick a year that’s also a Year of the Rabbit around my – Shen Jiu’s – rough age… whatever that is. I guess I should learn that. Ask Yue Qingyuan if you don’t remember.”

“Shen Jiu is Year of the Tiger, I remember now deciding on that once upon a time because he was so ambitious and competitive and quick-tempered, now I think about it! But we can keep your day and month.”

Shen Qingqiu nodded. “That’s fine. Luo Binghe is Year of the Dog; that little fact drop somewhere around the five hundredth chapter launched a thousand pieces of fanart. Use the winter solstice for the day and month if you can’t remember any differently – that’s the fanon pick.”

“Yeah, it was meant to be a whole ‘fighting like cats and dogs’ symbolic thing, but then I got distracted researching astrological compatibility issues and scrapped the whole thing in favour of hitting my next deadline. Anyway, Year of the Dog people are supposed to be all diligent and loyal with a strong sense of justice, and all that good stuff.”

Shang Qinghua jotted down a note and launched into his next question. “Hey bro, help me out and pretend I asked discreetly if you’re ever questioned – what are your favourite flowers, and if Binghe was to kill a monster to impress you, what animal corpse would you like to see the most?”

“I suppose bamboo doesn’t count? No? Well then, I’ll have to go with plum blossoms, and hmm… a Black Moon Rhinoceros-Python for the animal.”

“Go big or go home, huh?” he replied, writing that down too. “You know it’s not fair you got engaged second but are getting married first. Ah well, can’t outshine the emperor and empress! We can wait.”

Spotting Shen Qingqiu’s scrunched up nose at hearing the title, he tutted. “Better get used to it; you’ll be hearing it a lot. You wanted to marry into his family for the higher status, that makes you his empress. It’s a gender-neutral title here though, I promise!”

“I didn’t want to marry in as such, I just didn’t want to undermine his authority,” he explained. “Binghe’s working so hard to civilise the Northen Demon Realm and bring peace, it’s important he be respected as more than just being a Peak Lord’s wife. So, I’m joining his family instead of vice versa. Plus, I’m an orphan, so there’s that. Shen Jiu wouldn’t – I wouldn’t – want people poking at my background too much. Binghe agreed it was a good idea, after I explained it.”

Shang Qinghua smiled secretively. “A hundred spirit stones says he still wants to live out his happy housewife fantasy whenever you’re both on Qing Jing Peak.”

“Pfft, easy money,” Shen Qingqiu scoffed, shaking on the bet. “He won’t be my disciple anymore, he’ll be my husband, things are going to be very different.”

A week later he wordlessly handed over a small sack of spirit stones to Shang Qinghua, disdainfully ignoring his smug look and his snickering. He’d caught Binghe in a serious discussion hosting tea with Qi Qingqi, Ning Yingying and Liu Mingyan where they all discussed whether “Shiniang” or “Shimu” would be the most suitable title in the sect after his marriage, and being lectured by the women on what the proper duties of a good wife were. They all settled on Shiniang as more formal and carrying overtones of still carrying out a teaching role. For as Shizun’s wife Binghe planned to still help out as a teacher for the outer students, not just look after his husband’s house.

-000-

The wedding date was upon him before he’d even fully come to terms with the idea of being engaged. Tucked away in the Bamboo House he was helped into far too many layers of robes with the help of Madam Zhao Xifeng from the Warm Red Pavilion, who was standing in for him as family. Along with Qi-ge of course, but he obviously wasn’t allowed in with the girls who were helping him get dressed.

He’d insisted on both he and Binghe wearing masculine robes – one of the few bits of the wedding ceremony he’d deigned to be involved in the decision-making on – and the basic style was a match for Binghe’s. Though Binghe’s robes were reportedly embroidered with five-clawed dragons, while his own were phoenix-themed. A sheer red robe was the innermost layer, hemmed with green bamboo embroidery. Another layer swaddled him in dark green silk, then a third red layer designed to be fully seen was richly decorated with regal phoenixes surrounded by dark pink plum blossoms, and a green bamboo motif was picked out in shimmering silk around the cuffs and hem. A wide dark green belt decorated with gold thread, garnets, and jade secured the robes in place, then a final layer of an open blood-red robe with truly enormous draping sleeves and a long trailing train completed the outfit.

Madam Zhao combed his hair, murmuring traditional blessings for a happy marriage as she did so. And children. Children?! Hopefully that was just tradition speaking!

“Men can’t get pregnant, can they?” he whispered to her, in a sudden panic. “Not even to demons?”

She laughed at him and whispered back, “No, A-Jiu, you can’t get pregnant. Not unless there’s some secret legendary fruit known only to cultivators that can give you a womb.”

Shit, there probably is! Note to self – ask Airplane about that, and in the meantime avoid all suspicious fruit!

She finished putting up his hair in a horrendously complicated but beautiful bun, and with the excited assistance of Ning Yingying, they secured a heavy gold phoenix crown on his head with gold pins that dripped with strings of gemstone beads at their ends.

“Shizun, you look so beautiful!”

“There, your hair’s all done, A-Jiu. You make a lovely bride.”

There were some thumps on the ground outside, and the sound of a crowd bursting into raucous laughter.

“This disciple thinks they’re starting, Shizun!” Ning Yingying said, bouncing excitedly on her heels.

“Ning Yingying may go peek and report back.”

Madam Zhao seized the opportunity while she was gone to covertly hand him a gift in a red silk bag and impart some last-minute advice. “Tuck this away in your qiankun pouch – I know you had one sewn in like always, just for emergencies. There’s an instruction manual in there that you will read before you have sex, if only the first page; your question about pregnancy really has me worried that I should have talked with you more, A-Jiu! Also, there’s lubricant in the bag made from red seaweed – the best kind – that you will use. Don’t worry, it’s not an aphrodisiac in the slightest, it will just make things physically easier for you both.”

She leant down to hold his face, staring him dead in the eyes and squishing both cheeks in her hands. “Men are not supposed to bleed, A-Jiu. It’s not like with women. Listen to me – if it hurts, slow down. If you bleed, stop, and see a healer. Tell me you understand.”

“I understand!” he promised, blushing, and she set him free.

“Good, hide that away now, but you must read the start of it before you go to bed with your groom. I have to hurry up with your makeup before those barbarous demons bribe or fight their way in.”

Outside there were loud cries for him to ‘Hurry up!’ and calls to ‘Steal the bride!’… and also some bestial snarling. His students, Qi-ge, and Liu-shidi replied with cries of ‘Prove your worth!’, ‘That’s a paltry offering!’, and ‘No bribe is enough to claim our precious Peak Lord!’.

Liars, he thought affectionately. Binghe and Shang-shidi had warned them all about the more demonic parts of the wedding, and they were braced to provide a token resistance and only give in to bribery or ‘fear’ once he was ready to emerge from his home.

Ning Yingying bustled back in, beaming happily. “Luo-shidi is almost here, Shizun! The palanquin’s coming through the archway now! The demons have dumped a bunch of dead animals at the door, and people are sparring a little but no-one’s getting seriously hurt.”

Madam Zhao tutted and hurried, doing his makeup with swift, efficient care. She took extra time to paint Binghe’s red zuiyin onto his forehead as a huadian, working off a sketch as a reference. While only heavenly demons had the mark of sin, many demon nobles – like Mobei-Jun – chose to paint on a huadian of their own design as a fashionable status symbol. As Binghe’s empress Shen Qingqiu should wear his husband’s mark.

Husband, he thought, feeling faint. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he whispered.

Ning Yingying looked at him anxiously. “A-Bing will cry if you call off the wedding, Shizun.”

Madam Zhao tutted and kept doing his make-up. “It’s just pre-wedding jitters, he’ll be fine. A lot of brides are like this. A-Jiu, just keep in mind that you’re marrying the man you love, and all else will fall into place.”

He took a deep breath. He did love Binghe, and he certainly didn’t want to make him cry on their wedding day. “I can do this.”

“You can.”

“You look beautiful, Shizun! A-Bing is going to faint from your loveliness!”

He picked up his que shan bridal fan. “That’s why I’ll have to hide!” he said, with a nervous laugh.

There was a tremendous thump on the ground outside that made the walls rattle.

“I’ll go hint that you’re ready!” Ning Yingying said, scampering away.

When he emerged from the Bamboo House, all dolled up and hiding his face fully behind his translucent round fan, he peeked to the sides of the fan to dutifully admire the massive piles of dead monsters – all edible species – piled at either side of the door.

“My, what mighty hunters are these who have come to claim this bride from the bosom of my family?” he complimented. “My family will feast well, I see! But where have my protectors gone?”

He smiled behind the safety of his fan as they laughed and whooped at him.

“Beaten away!”

“Fled in fear!”

“Bribed with flesh and jade!”

He put on a tone of mock-fear and asked, “But who shall care for me with my family fled before these hunters and warriors?”

Luo Binghe stepped out from behind the mammoth corpse of a Black Moon Rhinoceros-Python and put his foot up on its horned head. He was wearing a long red and black robe embroidered with dragons and other bits of design it was hard to make out through the screening effect of his bridal fan. Binghe was also likely to be having trouble seeing things himself, as he was wearing a red veil. He’d insisted on wearing a veil, claiming he needed it to complete his vision of the ‘dream wedding’ he’d planned for years. Shen Qingqiu had folded and tried hard not to think about exactly how long Binghe had fantasised about marrying him.

“Binghe! You killed a Black Moon Rhinoceros-Python for me!” he gasped happily. His reply wasn’t part of the tradition, but as the crowd whooped happily at his greeting, he guessed at least he hadn’t ruined things.

“Shizun,” Binghe said happily, then harrumphed and said more formally. “Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu of Qing Jing Peak, Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, I have come to claim you as my bride, and there are none left to oppose me, except you yourself. Will you come willingly?”

I mustn’t peek!

“I will.”

Amidst a crowd of cheering demons – none of whom he recognised apart from Sha Hualing and the laconic Mobei-Jun – he was escorted to the red-draped bridal palanquin, and they carried him and his fiancé through the Iridescent Portal to Binghe’s palace. His own guests would follow shortly after once they were out of sight; he had been ‘kidnapped’ after all!

Binghe’s palace – it turned out he had claimed one of his own! – was an explosion of red, bedecked with swathes of red silk and red flowers. Black and gold were used as accent colours, and dashes of bamboo green snuck in here and there to break up the generally monotone decorations. Double happiness symbols were everywhere, for luck.

Two lines of cheering demons made a living aisle for them to travel between in the gently rocking palanquin, and the loud sounds of drumming resonated in the air as they entered the wide palace gates and were carried towards the hall where the wedding ceremony was to be held.

“Shizun, we’re getting married,” Binghe said, his voice shaky with wonder.

He reached over and gave Binghe’s hand a squeeze. “Yes, we are. Though perhaps it’s about time you stopped calling me ‘Shizun’?”

He couldn’t make out Binghe’s face through their respective layers of silk, but was sure Binghe was trying to stare at him, all the same. “But Shizun… you don’t like any of your other names. And I can’t call you Xiao Shen; that’s what Zhangmen-shibo calls you and I just… I don’t like it.”

Hmm, true. And using a familial nickname romantically would be weird. Using my family name in general doesn’t sound very intimate. Hey System, can I ask him to call me Yuan? I can say it’s like a random name I picked because I liked it! I won’t give away that I’m a transmigrator!

[…]

System? Oh yeah, I muted you, didn’t I? I’m still shocked that works.

[ (¬`‸´¬) ]

You want to unmute and answer my question?

[Host is lucky he has earnt so many points. Host could have died from unexpected point losses or plot events, with this System muted. Muting does not stop point gains or penalties.]

What about my question?

[Host can continue guessing on his own without this System’s help! 凸( •̀_•́ )凸 Try it and see what happens!]

Yeah no… I don’t think I will.

“Binghe can call me ‘h-husband’ soon,” he suggested nervously.

“Husband,” Binghe breathed, holding his hand tightly. “Husband. My husband. Baobei. My precious love. My heart! My husband, Shen Qingqiu. My empress!”

“Silly boy,” he scolded, blushing.

“Silly wife,” Binghe corrected, “or husband, I can be a husband too if you like. Your beloved emperor. Husband. Your loving wife. Shiniang.”

“Just Binghe for now, I think,” he said, blushing. “Maybe… maybe you can also be hus… husband.” It was still difficult to say!

“Husband. Husband,” Binghe echoed reverently. “Say it again, Shizun!”

“Pff! I’ve said it enough! You can be my silly sheep, instead.”

Sweet, fluffy sheep! My precious grey lotus!

The procession was slow and yet somehow still over in the blink of an eye, then he was alighting with the assistance of his attendant Ning Yingying (how did she get here faster than him?) while Mobei-Jun helped Binghe alight, as he was also struggling to see where he was going.

The feasting was next, and the tables were practically creaking with the weight of the dishes on them. Some guests had already begun eating, though they paused to cheer the bridal couple as they entered, bowing and kowtowing as they took their seats. Over at the sides of the great hall spits were being loaded with freshly slaughtered fowl and piglets, and servants scattered sawdust on the new bloodstains on the floor.

“When you said the banquet would have ‘fresh meat’ I didn’t quite understand it would still be squealing,” Shen Qingqiu murmured to Binghe, still hiding his face demurely as they walked to their respective thrones.

“It’s a demonic tradition for political marriages where enemies are invited to the wedding – warier guests can be reassured there’s little chance the meat has been poisoned, and can even bring their own animals if they wish,” Binghe explained. “The meat is cooked out in the open where everyone can watch the whole process from the slaughter to the plate.”

The crowd of cultivators trickling in were those selected for their tolerance of demonkind, and the demons likewise were those handpicked by Binghe who’d proven loyal and unlikely to make trouble, but there were still some wary looks on both sides. Some of his jiejies from the Warm Red Pavilion were huddling nervously in the protective midst of some of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect’s disciples and peak lords.

Madam Zhao was off at the table for family, along with Yue Qingyuan, and also the Southern Demon Realm Emperor, Binghe’s father Tianlang-Jun, and Binghe’s cousin Zhuzhi-Lang. The protests about their inclusion had been loud and long, but they really couldn’t afford to reject the proffered olive branch if they wanted peace between the realms, and Binghe’s father had really wanted to attend the wedding. He’d sent a massive crate full of lurid romances and pornographic novels as a wedding gift, full of older titles like The Demon Warlord’s Stolen Bride and The Emperor’s Secret Succubus and new hits like The Forbidden Love of Spring Mountain. He was secretly dying to dive into the collection! It looked terrible in all the right ways.

Shang Qinghua as matchmaker and his fiancé Mobei-Jun as Binghe’s right-hand man and attendant got pride of place at the main table too, along with Abbott Wu Chen from Zhao Hua Monastery. He was chatting away happily with Tianlang-Jun as they entered. The disabled monk had lost his legs at Jin Lan City but wasn’t letting that dampen his faith or quell his zest for life; he got around now on a pair of wooden prostheses. His congratulatory letter on their engagement had impressed Binghe so much with its genuine acceptance and delight in their union, and his hopes for peace with the demon realm, that Binghe had struck up a correspondence with the man and ended up employing the monk in a position of honour as their Master of Ceremonies.

Wu Chen prompted them to snip a lock of each other’s hair, which were then combined and placed in a little bag tied to Shen Qingqiu’s belt, symbolising combining their lives together and Binghe’s trust in him. Then they feasted! It was the least stressful part of the evening, though a little challenging to get through without ruining his makeup.

Madam Zhao stopped by to touch it up, and that seemed to prompt others to visit too, one or two at a time. Some offered gifts, others swore their obedience to their new empress under Binghe’s approving eye, and many wished them well. Liu Qingge – who had a bruised cheek from some earlier scuffle – wanted reassurance that he was sure he wanted to get married to a demon but strode away satisfied at his earnest promise that he did.

When the feasting was done – though he hadn’t eaten much in the end, being nervous and repeatedly distracted from his meal – they did their three bows. To heaven and earth, first. To their families second; Tianlang-Jun and Zhuzhi-Lang for Binghe’s family, and Yue Qingyuan and Madam Zhao for his own. They might not be ties of blood, but they were the closest thing to family that he had in this world, and the ties of affection were even stronger now he’d remembered a little more about both of them. Then they bowed to each other… and they were married. He was a married man. An empress of the demon realm! Binghe’s wife!

The only thing left was drinking the bridal wine, and Shen Qingqiu slowly lowered his fan, peeking out over the top of it with his darkened eyes, then revealing his smiling face. He lifted off Binghe’s red bridal veil, removing it entirely. Binghe’s face was smiling more broadly than he’d ever seen before, and he looked so handsome with his hair tied up tightly in a bun, capped with a golden hair crown of his own (though it was much simpler and lighter in design than his own heavy, gem-bedecked phoenix crown). His zuiyin blazed fiery red on his brow, and he looked every inch a demonic emperor in his red-and-black dragon robe. The golden dragon and phoenix bracelets Shen Qingqiu had given him were proudly in place on his wrists.

“I wish I could paint you right now,” he murmured. “You’re so handsome.”

“I’ll dress up again in my wedding finery for you another day, husband. And you should know that you’re the most handsome one.”

They drank wine from a heijin cup; a bronze construction of two cups decoratively welded together with auspicious decorations of a dragon and a phoenix sculpted into the metal. They held the handles together, and drank as one, and it was all over. Binghe kissed him lightly on the lips.

Abbot Wu Chen said some more words – he was sure it was something touching and meaningful but to be honest he was just lost staring at his husband.

“Behold your Emperor Luo Binghe! Behold your Empress Shen Qingqiu!”

Binghe, thoroughly delighted to be wed and entirely out of patience, then scooped him up in a bridal carry to the cheers of the assembled guests.

“This Emperor thanks you all for coming and witnessing our wedding. Remember, there is a duelling arena set up outside if anyone wants to fight. Please continue feasting and drinking into the night if you wish, but I believe your empress and I will retire for the night, now!”

“Where’s my fan,” Shen Qingqiu muttered, hiding his face with his hands, then burrowing it shamefacedly into Binghe’s shoulder. “Get us out of here!”

A few guests pelted them with dried fruits and coins as they left the hall; Ning Yingying, Ming Fan, Mobei-Jun, and Sha Hualing walked as escorts on either side of them to keep off any drunken guests or surprise last-minute assassins (who thankfully didn’t pop up).

Such good buns!

Binghe put him down at the door to their suite.

Shen Qingqiu patted his students’ heads. “Make sure everyone gets home safely, you two!”

-000-

The instant the doors were closed and they were alone, Shen Qingqiu panicked at the hungry look in Luo Binghe’s eyes and took a step backwards when Binghe stalked towards him.

“Perhaps some tea?” he squeaked. “No need to rush things.”

Binghe hesitated, clearly disappointed, then nodded in understanding. “Shizun is nervous. This d- this husband will fetch some tea. Please try and relax while I am gone.”

In his absence, Shen Qingqiu scrambled to read the pillow book Madam Zhao had given him to tuck away in his sleeve. In between the flowery metaphors about chrysanthemums there was some very useful information about how to best conduct relations between men. The illustrations of more challenging activities later in the book made him yelp and slam the book shut, however.

He put the gifted jar Zhao-jie had given him next to the bed, and then hurriedly strode away from it in search of a soothing distraction. He shed his outermost later of robes – it was very heavy and annoying how it trailed behind him on the floor – and sat himself down in front of a particularly well-made guzheng that had been set up in the room. He gave it a strum – perfectly in tune. His shoulders relaxed as he played.

I do want this, he thought. It’s just… won’t I break? It’s supposed to be legendarily big! What if we just did… other things tonight?

That didn’t seem too bad a thought. He was… curious, after all. And they could just start with kissing and see how things went!

He was picking out the notes of a love song when Binghe returned with a tea tray and snacks.

“Binghe,” he greeted. “Would you like to sit and hear a song?

Binghe smiled, and with a nod he set down the tray and moved a chair close to sit and listen to him. He shed his outermost robe too, folding it carefully and laying it over the folding screen next to his own.

“This husband would love to hear a gift song for our wedding night,” he said softly.

He blushed as he sang, and looked coyly up at Binghe through his darkened lashes.

     “I feel like running to you
     Telling you now how much I love you
     Oh… for you, I would do anything for you
     Anything for you, I am ready to forget even my name
     Just to stay in your arms even for seconds only
     I don't care even if I'll lose everything”

Binghe looked enraptured, his hands clenched tightly at his sides.

     “As long as you love me
     With the same sincerity
     I am willing to do
     Anything for you”

He finished with a flourish then stilled the strings. “I just want you to be happy, Binghe. I think sometimes that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Thank you… That was beautiful, Shizun,” he said, his voice sounding strained. “Did… did husband really want some tea?”

He shook his head. “Not really. I just needed a moment to compose myself.”

Binghe walked towards him slowly, with careful restraint. “Can I take your crown off for you? And brush your hair out?”

He relaxed and nodded then walked hand in hand with him over to a dressing table. The quiet routine was soothing and familiar, and when his hair was out in a smooth fall like black silk, and Binghe started to sneak tiny kisses on top of his head then the tip of his ear, he smiled and stood.

“Binghe… husband,” he said softly, putting his hands nervously around his waist. “Kiss me?”

Binghe was delighted to oblige, putting his practice to work, going slow and careful with no biting.

“Shizun – husband – I love you.”

He looked down shyly. “I… I love you too.”

The System blared in his mind with a joyous cacophony of trumpet music and whistles, as the world seemed to pause.

[Congratulations! Congratulations! Congratulations! Good things must be said three times!]

Go. Away!

It ignored him. [Host has earnt the following major achievements since the last time notifications were reviewed: “Plot Hole Filler”, “Forbidden Love”, “Heartbreaker Champion", “Genre Update: Danmei Romance”, “Wedding Bells”, “Love Confession”, and “Trash Turned Readable”. +10,000 B-Points! Hidden Characters: Shen Jiu, Tianlang-Jun, Zhuzhi-Lang, Su Xiyan, and Madam Zhao Xifeng 100% complete. Objective accomplished. Host has achieved the targeted score for various attributes and your account has been upgraded to “Junior VIP” user.]

Huh. What privileges does that get me?

[As host doesn’t care if they live or die enough to listen to this System, advanced function “Self-Saving” has been forfeited, and “Return Home” function has been disabled. Instead, in recognition for their work transforming “Proud Immortal Demon Way”, as a new Junior VIP user will be left to complete the epilogue on their own while System moves on to a more appreciative host in another realm. Please rate this System’s performance out of 5 stars!]

Wait, hold on a second. You’re really leaving? For good?!

[Yes! User should not break the world with forbidden revelations or cause the protagonist’s death but is otherwise free to act how they wish! Much like they did already… (¬_¬) ]

5 stars! Off you go, then! No point antagonising it on the way out, in case it changed its mind.

[ … ✧ദ്ദി( ˶^ᗜ^˶ ) ]

And with a noise reminiscent of a Windows System shutting down, it was gone. Gone.

He crushed Binghe to him fiercely. “Binghe, I’m so happy!”

Binghe gazed at him adoringly with his heart in his eyes. “I am too, Shizun. Come to bed with me, husband?”

“Nothing would make me happier.”

Chapter Text

They went hand in hand towards the bed, and Binghe started by untying Shen Qingqiu’s belt.

“Binghe… go slow,” he warned, biting his lip nervously.

“I will,” he promised, setting aside the belt with loving care and moving to the richly embroidered robe next, untying the knots at the waist and sliding it off his shoulders.

Two full layers remained but he felt oddly naked! The modesty standards of this world had really sunk in, but it was also the knowledge hanging like Damocles’ sword over his head of what they would be doing once he was fully undressed that was making him both anxious and alight with anticipation.

Binghe knelt to slide off his red slippers and white stockings next, caressing his bare feet with loving hands. “Your jiejies warned me, Shizun, to be slow and careful with you. You must warn me if anything I do scares you. This husband understands it is not personal if you… if you turn from me unexpectedly.”

He bit his lip and pulled Binghe up to his feet. “Binghe I… I don’t remember much. What I do remember is enough to make me glad I have amnesia of those times with… with him. He was violent and… Well, anyway, most of this”–he waved vaguely at the both of them–“is just ah… first time nerves, because I never really thought much about being with a man.”

He added in a tiny whisper, “And I’m afraid you’re very big, and I don’t want to get hurt.”

Binghe leant in to kiss him and stroked his cheek. “Shizun, you can be in charge. We can do just what you want to do and avoid anything that might upset you.”

Thinking about it, he could only identify a few triggers. “No beatings or violence – that should be obvious but just to make it clear, don’t hurt me – I don’t like that. I know it’s sexy for some demons, almost like foreplay, but it’s not for me. Um. Don’t hold my wrists tightly, just in case it triggers a bad fragment of memory. Gently should be fine. Leaning too much on my back might be a problem – don’t pin me down so I’m trapped, especially if I can’t see you.”

He thought a bit more then shook his head. “That’s all I can think of that might cause a panic reaction. I’ll try and simply tell you if something upsets me, too.”

Binghe nodded, looking dead serious as he suggested, “Then Shizun should be on top and take me.”

What?! You’re the stallion protagonist and you want me to push you down?!

“That’s ridiculous, you’re the… an emperor. My h-husband,” he finished, with difficulty. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” With a gentle smile on his face, Binghe started taking off his own elaborate wedding robes. “This emperor wants to feel you inside him. Husband, if I take you first, I might hurt you or frighten you, and I want you to only feel pleasure tonight. If you lie on top of me, or take me from behind, you’ll be in control of everything. Also, I will get to feel what it’s like, so I’ll know best how to pleasure you when we try that another time.”

“But it might hurt… I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered, watching as Binghe took off his boots then stripped down to his final robe – a sheer black underrobe that didn’t conceal much of anything. He could see the outline of his husband’s enormous erect cock through the silk, a damp patch of fabric at the tip. His eyes widened.

“No way! That thing will split me in half!”

Binghe winced at his blurted outburst. “So Shizun will take me first, and if I get hurt you won’t need to worry because I will heal quickly; my blood guarantees it. But Shizun, it doesn’t have to hurt. I know I’m… large, but with enough preparation it should be alright. I’ve read books from Qian Cao and talked with um… your jiejies. And we don’t have to do it that way at all really! But at least once… please… so we can cure Without a Cure. It doesn’t even have to be tonight, if you don’t want to. Let’s try it the other way around first – that might be enough.”

“I think it’s Binghe’s seed that is important,” he admitted, in a choked voice. “I think it needs to be in my body.” He watched with fascination as Binghe’s cock gave an interested twitch at that embarrassed statement, straining against the black silk.

“Husband could use his mouth on me then,” Binghe suggested.

He pulled off his final robe, and stood naked before him, and smiled at Shen Qingqiu’s wide-eyed interested stare. He stretched to show off his body to its best potential, all lean and hard muscled with a stunning ripped torso and of course a ridiculously large cock. The only thing he was left wearing was his hair crown, keeping his curly head of hair all pulled up tight. Shen Qingqiu missed those long locks a little, but the rest was perfection. He reached up to pull out a hairpin and work the crown loose, which pressed him tight against Binghe’s chest, which neither of them minded.

“Husband,” Binghe moaned, sliding his hands around his waist. “You are still wearing too much.”

“Just let me get your hair down first,” he murmured, with a smile. He gave a little shimmy to press himself closer to Binghe in the process. It would be a lot more efficient to have Binghe sit for this, but where would be the fun in that? He squirmed some more as he pulled some more pins and a strip of ribbon free from Binghe’s hair, coincidentally pushing his own hard cock up against Binghe’s, separated only by a couple of layers of thin silk.

“Almost done, be good now, Binghe.”

“Yes, Shizun,” Binghe said, but his hands had snuck down from his waist to gently trace the swell of his buttocks. “Is this alright?”

“Mn. Let me just… put these down somewhere.”

Binghe took the gold crown and handful of pins away from him, and Shen Qingqiu admired the view as he walked away. You could bounce a coin off that arse!

Blushing, he pulled off his layer of green silk, leaving only the thin red underrobe. When Binghe turned around and saw him in it, he stumbled.

“Shizun…” he breathed. “Husband. You look beautiful, breathtaking.”

He stepped close and rested his forehead against Shen Qingqiu’s. “I’m so lucky.”

Shen Qingqiu snorted and reached up to curl his hands in Binghe’s hair. “Silly boy, don’t be ridiculous. I’m the lucky one.” He kissed him, and then again, and Binghe returned every kiss with increasing passion, holding him tightly against his naked body.

“Husband, can I tear this robe off you?” Binghe murmured, peppering his neck and collarbone with kisses. His hands toyed with the collar of the robe.

“Ghost-head Spider silk? Don’t you dare!” he replied. He quickly took it off before Binghe succumbed to temptation, then pulled his husband tight against his body. While being close was embarrassing, being stared at was worse, somehow.

Hmm. With a glance, and a few flicks of his fingers to send out his qi to move the air, he extinguished over half the candles. Their light might be romantic, but they revealed far too much. It felt a little safer now the light in the room was much dimmer. Binghe let out a little strangled whine, and sucked hard against his neck as he felt their bare cocks press against each other. His hands clenched on Shen Qingqiu’s buttocks, pulling him closer as he rutted against him.

“Don’t you dare come yet,” Shen Qingqiu warned, feeling the moisture at the tip of Binghe’s cock oozing onto his stomach.

“Shizun, I don’t know how long I can hold on,” he pleaded.

Shen Qingqiu stepped away to lead Binghe to the bed and gently pushed him to lie down on his back in the middle of the red linen sheets. He clambered onto the capacious bed himself, a hand on Binghe’s hard muscled chest for balance as he shuffled into position above him, kneeling astride his waist. Binghe’s cock bumped into his arse as he bent over and kissed him with passion, his tongue delving into Binghe’s eagerly welcoming mouth.

“You can wait a little for me, I’m sure.”

Shuffling around some more, he climbed off his waist and resettled lower down, kneeling beside Binghe’s thighs. He kneaded the firm muscle of Binghe’s thighs, his hands creeping higher as he stroked along his beautiful smooth skin to the nest of dark hair at his groin. He watched Binghe’s hungry expression as he reached out and wrapped both hands around Binghe’s generously sized cock. Binghe bit his lip and arched his neck back as he squeezed his cock gently and started stroking it. It was a job for both hands!

Without breaking the stride of his strokes too much, he nudged Binghe’s legs apart with his knee, spreading them gently apart. He pushed his way in between them to kneel between Binghe’s legs, and still holding onto his cock, he leant forward to tentatively lick at the head.

“Shizun! Shizun, Shizun, Shizun… Husband! Please, please…” Binghe babbled, bucking up into his mouth helplessly. “It’s my dream come to life, suck me please, Shizun. Take your disciple! Use me however you want!”

Ah! How embarrassing!

Red-faced, he lapped at the head of his husband’s cock and tentatively tried wrapping his mouth around it. It was a strain to stretch his mouth that wide, and his teeth scraped the edges of the heavenly pillar as he determinedly pushed forwards, stuffing his mouth full of his husband’s warm, leaking cock and breathing harshly through his nose. He barely managed to get a quarter of the heavenly pillar in his mouth, and that was a struggle as any more than that made him feel like he was choking. He slurped and sucked the few inches he managed to get into his mouth, excited by it more than he’d ever imagined he would be, his own neglected cock rising to attention.

Binghe seemed to appreciate his efforts – teeth and all – and just moaned and babbled his desperate pleasure through his every attempt. His husband’s hands were buried in the sheets at his sides, making a crinkled mess as he clenched them tight with the effort not to touch him.

In the end, jaw aching, Shen Qingqiu gave up trying for a full blowjob, it was just impossible for his unpractised self to manage without choking or biting! He’d heard of deep throating but had no idea how it was actually accomplished at a practical level. Instead, he continued masturbating his husband with his hands, sliding the velvety smooth skin of his cock up and down with a co-ordinated rhythm, watching his face as he experimented with how much pressure Binghe liked, and what tempo drew the best moans from his lips. Binghe preferred a tight firm grip, and a slower speed seemed to drive him wild, bucking up frantically into his hands. He lapped at the head with his tongue, laving over the weeping tip, and occasionally kissing or mouthing at it with a soft press of his lips. He suckled gently, swirling his tongue, while his hands slid constantly over the shaft.

“So good, Shizun! Husband, more please! Yes, like that!”

Binghe was babbling a constant litany of praise and calling for him as his pleasure grew. His hands were fisted so tightly in the sheets beneath them that the fabric was ripping as his fingernails shifted to black demonic talons.

That’s not in the book! His wives would be cut to pieces! No wait, that happened with Sha Hualing once, actually. And a couple of demonesses in the Endless Abyss. It got into bloodplay and I skimmed those bits. It must be something he can learn to control then. So long as he doesn’t cut me up with those, I guess it’s… kind of hot?! Watching him lose control like that, because of what I’m doing…

He picked up the pace of masturbating his husband, switching from slow to a fast, furious tempo and shoving his mouth down on Binghe’s cock the short length that was as far as he could manage, sucking Binghe as hard as he could even though it made him choke and splutter around his cock.

Binghe came with a guttural groan, gushing in his mouth with a rush of salty come that was choking in its volume. He swallowed as much as he could, but when he pulled off there was still drool and come leaking from his swollen lips. He wiped it away with the back of his hand. Binghe’s cock was still twitching, letting out tiny dribbles of come, and he touched the tip gently to swipe up a little of the liquid, smearing it between his fingertips. Binghe moaned happily again, as his sensitive cock gave another delighted twitch.

Is this the universal panacea for all ills? he wondered.

Binghe was clearly pondering something along the same lines for he asked dazedly. “How do you feel, Shizun? Is my husband cured?”

“Good, I mean… that was nice, but I don’t feel significantly different. There was no rush of energy scouring my meridians clean. Did Binghe not exert his qi at all? I think perhaps ‘dual cultivation’ needs a joining of energy for the best effect.”

With a woebegone look Binghe cried out, “This useless husband forgot to try!”

Silly boy.

He moved around to lie next to Binghe and pulled his head to his chest, stroking his hair comfortingly. Binghe clung to him, with extra care to ensure his claws didn’t scratch at Shen Qingqiu’s skin. “This husband will do better next time, he promises. Shizun must take this one now, and your disciple will exert his qi to the utmost!”

“Binghe!”

Binghe cuddled into him, wrapping his arms around him and nuzzling his head into Shen Qingqiu’s chest. “Don’t be shy, Shizun. This one wants to be taken. But you must prepare me first, Cheng-di was very insistent about the matter.”

“Who?”

“Your didi from the Warm Red Pavilion who specialises in dance and male clients, Shizun,” Binghe explained, then cocked his head to one side. “He lectured this one for some time on how relations between men are best conducted.”

“How did you even meet?”

Binghe rolled his head up to look at him with amusement, and a naughty smirk. “Did you think you could invite the prostitutes of a brothel to our wedding, and their madam as an honoured sister of yours, and not awaken this one’s curiosity, Shizun? Of course I went to meet them all!”

Shen Qingqiu bopped him on the nose with a finger. “You jealous thing. I hope they explained there was nothing to fret about.”

“Yes, Shizun.” Binghe’s hand traced softly over his hip as they embraced, then slid down between their bodies to cradle his cock. His claws were, thankfully, carefully subsumed back into his more human form now.

“What are you doing?”

Binghe smiled hungrily at him as he slowly stroked his cock. “Take a guess, Shizun.” He started mouthing at his chest, laying a row of kisses down on his skin and then licking tentatively at his nipple.

“I’m not a woman, Binghe!”

“Men have nipples too, Shizun. Some men find they’re sensitive in a good way. Shall we see if you like it?”

It’s not bad, he thought. But it’s strange.

Binghe rolled on his side and pushed Shizun gently onto his back, sucking on one nipple while toying with the other with his fingers, tweaking and teasing it into a hard little nub. He pulled off the nipple he’d been suckling on and blew on it, and watched with fascination as his cool breath on the wet tip made it harden up. They were sensitive now, almost too much.

“Binghe, enough!”

“Yes, husband.” Binghe switched to kissing his collarbone and neck for a while. “Too hard?”

“No, it’s… good,” he mumbled. “Binghe can do more.”

The hard suction of Binghe’s mouth on his neck – sure to leave a bruise – made him gasp and buck his stiffening cock up into Binghe’s hand. Only one hand – he wasn’t monstrously sized like the protagonist, just a normal kind of length! Maybe even a little longer than he’d been in his last life.

Binghe seemed excited by his moans, sucking and biting at his neck with enthusiasm, then he leant over him to kiss him hungrily, while his hand stroked away down below. “Shizun… husband,” he moaned, between kisses. He pulled back a moment to watch his face intently from inches away. “Is it good? Am I doing well?”

“So well, my dear little sheep,” he praised, stroking his hair. “But Binghe should… stop soon, if he wants this master to… to…” He couldn’t finish, his cheeks blushing.

“Binghe is still sure?” he double-checked.

Binghe nodded eagerly and untangled himself from their embrace – and alas from the delightful hold he had on his cock – to fetch the little jar of lubricant from beside the bed like he recognised it.

“Put it just around my entrance and then inside me, husband,” he encouraged. He laid down on the bed on his back and pulled his knees up, then let them fall apart gently to the sides, exposing himself to his husband’s enraptured gaze.

Biting his lip nervously, Shen Qingqiu dipped his fingers in the little pot of viscous lubricant and moved to kneel between Binghe’s spread thighs. His fingertips, trembling, touched Binghe’s pink entrance, and rubbed gently. Binghe moaned and panted as his fingers traced the wrinkled skin, and a fingertip slowly pushed its way inside him.

“Shizun is inside me,” Binghe said dazedly. “Getting this disciple ready for his cock…”

“Binghe! Don’t say it like that,” he complained, slapping Binghe’s thigh rebukingly with his free hand, which only made Binghe moan some more.

Incurable M! What even is that reaction?

His finger was held so tightly, he didn’t understand how his cock would fit inside such a small hole. He clenched up thinking of Binghe trying to fill him! Impossible!

“Um… what now?” he asked, thrusting his finger in and out slowly. “It doesn’t seem very loose down there.”

“More lubricant, and then a second finger please, husband,” Binghe instructed. “And maybe try crooking your fingers up a little bit, pointed at my navel? There’s an angle that’s supposed to feel nice… a hidden good place only inside a man, like a little lump you can feel…”

Did Airplane give men clitorises inside their arses? he wondered incredulously. Does he even know biology?!

Whatever. This world made no sense, sometimes! He’d have to chalk it up to Airplane logic – he wanted gay sex to be more fun than in their own world, clearly!

A couple of knuckles deep, there was a smooth spot on the upper wall of his passage that seemed to bulge ever so slightly, and Binghe moaned with extra enthusiasm when he pressed against it. He stimulated it as best he could for a while then pulled his finger out and added a second one with an extra dollop of lubricant, slowly bullying his way back inside.

Binghe breathed out as he pushed in carefully. “It’s good, Shizun,” he encouraged. “Just a little more stretching, and I think I’ll be ready for you.”

Since he was there anyway and Binghe was looking needy and desperate – and not at all because he found Binghe’s cock fascinating and alluring – he also used his other hand to gently play with his cock again. Not masturbating Binghe with firm strokes, but instead just gently teasing him. He ran his fingertips lightly over his hard length, watching him grow and twitch under his light caresses. He held his balls and squeezed and tugged on them, and watched the skin shift around. He batted at Binghe’s penis like it was a toy and he was a curious cat, and watched it bounce back. He wrapped a hand around the base and squeezed tighter and tighter, waiting for Binghe to cry out for him to stop but he didn’t.

“Is that not too tight?” he asked, thrusting and twisting his fingers instead Binghe’s slippery hole. “When is it too much?”

“Anything Shizun does is good,” Binghe gasped.

“But what does Binghe want?”

Binghe lifted his head off the soft pillow and stared at him with desperation. “Please husband, I want you to take me now.”

It made his heart thunder in his chest, and he looked down with wonder at where his fingers were inside Binghe, stretching out his warm entrance.

I’m going to put my cock in there, he thought, with a shiver of excitement. He pulled his hand out and for lack of a better idea, wiped off the excess lubricant off on the ruined sheets.

Binghe wiggled around excitedly as he settled down between his legs, his cock nudging against the warm, stretched hole.

Lying atop him, he checked, “Binghe doesn’t want to kneel on all fours? It’s supposed to be a good position for men.”

“I want to watch you, Shizun. Please, please put it in!” he whined, trying to angle his arse up to catch his cock.

“Shh, I will,” he promised. Keeping himself hovering over Binghe like he was doing a one-handed push-up, he took a hold of his cock with his left hand to better guide the tip in, pushing in slowly. It felt tight and moist and welcoming, like a kiss on the tip of his cock. Binghe’s heat engulfed him, and both of them groaned as he slowly pushed in.

He put both his hands on Binghe’s shoulders for better balance, arching his back up and thrusting his hips forward. Binghe held on tightly to his hips and buttocks, frantically trying to pull him in deeper.

“Isn’t it hurting?” he panted. “You feel so tight… so good, Binghe.”

“Husband… husband,” Binghe replied, dazed. “Yes, more!”

He shoved in hard, cooperating with Binghe’s determined pulling, and groaned in pleasure.

“Dual cultivating with Shizun,” Binghe said dopily, then blinked and looked startled. All of a sudden there was energy swirling between them. Qi, both human and demonic, spilled into Shen Qingqiu’s meridians from where they were joined together.

He whined with pleasure and collapsed down onto Binghe’s chest, catching his lips for frantic kisses. “Husband!”

“Yes!”

He pushed one of Binghe’s legs up closer to his shoulder for a better angle, then rutted hard into Binghe’s lean, muscled body, thrusting in and out with frantic fervour as qi swirled between them, rushing and thundering between their spirits like a tidal wave, unstoppable, scouring everything before it. He came with a strangled groan, buried deep within his husband’s body, and thought for a moment he might faint from the pleasure of it. He felt swept utterly clean, overflowing with power in a way he hadn’t for years.

Staying cradled inside Binghe’s body, he reached between them to stroke Binghe’s cock hard and fast.

“My precious lamb,” he crooned, drunk with pleasure as he watched Binghe writhe and moan beneath him. “My beautiful boy, you did so well. I’ve filled you all up with my seed, and now it’s your turn. Husband, won’t you come for me?”

“Shizun!” he sobbed. “Shizun! Yes!”

It didn’t take long for Binghe to join him in orgasming, spilling over their bodies in a sticky mess that was just beautiful to watch. He swiped a bit up with his fingers to suck on – it tasted salty and sour but deliciously rich in qi like a rare fruit – and Binghe spurted just a little bit more before finally starting to soften.

He pulled out and slumped down to lie next to him, ignoring the mess. Binghe cuddled happily on his chest, embracing him like an octopus with all limbs as close as possible.

“I feel amazing,” Shen Qingqiu admitted.

“Shizun?” he asked, with wide, excited eyes. “Are you… is Shizun cured now?”

“I think so, yes.” He patted him on the head, praising him reflexively. “Good boy.”

He winced at his phrasing. “Um, I didn’t mean… that is, thank you, husband.”

Binghe nuzzled against his chest. “I like being Shizun’s good boy. It’s alright, husband.”

He felt so light now, the qi in his meridians running smooth and free. He also felt a bit sleepy, and Binghe also seemed ready to just cuddle lazily, his indefatigable cock temporarily sated.

Binghe sang softly to him as they snuggled, a new song he hadn’t heard before.

     “Love warms, grace weight, our lips come together
     I wish this night would last unto the morn
     All day all night unto eternity”

“That’s lovely,” he said, stroking his hair sleepily.

     “The rustle of autumn, Xiu Ya unsheathed,
     Icy water gushes forth, choking sobs”

What the hell is that sword metaphor?! It just gets more shameless the longer it goes on!

“I beg your pardon?!”

Binghe just giggled. “Some new friends of one of my shimeis wrote it. Isn’t it fun? It’s quite popular!”

“It is banned, that’s what it is.”

Binghe kissed his cheek. “I love you, Shizun.”

He grumbled a little but kissed him back. “I… too. I love you too, Binghe.”