Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The only sound in the alley was Shen Qingqiu’s strained, gasping wheezes. Sweat prickled across his skin as the cool night air breathed over him. His earlier flight should not have left him so breathless. His lungs burned, and pain dominoed up his body. In front of him, Luo Binghe smiled. It was warm and gentle, a grand contrast to the chilling blackness in his eyes. 

“After so many years of separation, we meet amidst golden wind and jade dew, yet Shizun calls someone else’s name. That truly saddens this disciple a little.” 

Shen Qingqiu’s eyebrows folded. He fought to keep his face clean of emotion; fear was a beast inside his chest. He was almost certain Luo Binghe could feel the tenacious tempo of his heart with the hold on his neck. His jaw clenched as that hold tightened. Black spots started to dot his vision. It was too soon. Luo Binghe had returned far too early. He should have more time than this!

A light flashed in the corner of his eye, and a dialogue box popped up in front of him. Through the haziness of his fear, he barely caught the words:

[ Accept a System tip to resolve the small complication our valued customer is facing? ]

Shen Qingqiu almost laughed. “Small complication?” Years of practice smothering his emotions was the only thing that saved him. He had no doubt if he started laughing that his once beloved little sheep would truly show how far Shen Qingqiu’s betrayal had blackened his soul. 

As he glanced at Luo Binghe’s face, his heart stilled.

Luo Binghe had his head cocked to one side, with the smallest of wrinkles forming between his eyebrows. 

The System, almost as if sensing something was off, abandoned him. 

What the fuck?? HELLO? Where is my tip?!!

With a desperate breath, Shen Qingqiu caught Luo Binghe’s wrist. He did not dig his nails into him, as much as his terror desperately wanted him to. The hold suddenly loosened. He sucked air greedily into his lungs, and collapsed to the ground. His palms scraped against rough stone. Gentle hands caught his arms, and guided him back up to his feet. As soon as he was steady, Luo Binghe drew his hands down his arms and caught lightly onto his wrists. His fingers pressed against his quickened pulse. He was so caught up in the warmth of that smile, with memories nibbling the back of his mind, that he forgot that he had nearly blacked out seconds ago from those same hands. 

Luo Binghe had changed. He was no longer a little sheep. The softened fat of youth had hardened into sharp cheekbones, and an even stronger jaw. His shoulders were wide, with strength decorating his arms with muscles. He was beautiful. Every inch of the man before him was the very essence of beauty and power. A strange twist of emotions boiled in Shen Qingqiu’s chest: pride and absolute dread. His disciple had truly grown up. It was too bad that he would have to look at that sweet, beautiful face as it tore his limbs free from his body. 

Would he still be wearing that same gentle smile as he did it?

“Why did Shizun think to take such a late night stroll? Especially with the state of his health?” 

Drawing back his shoulders, Shen Qingqiu straightened. His ears heated. Luo Binghe had used his hold on him to check his meridians!? Not that the flare-up wasn’t obvious. Fuck you, Without a Cure! He tugged one hand free from Luo Binghe’s grasp, only to find the other trapped in a harsh, bone-creaking grip. 

Luo Binghe’s eyes flashed dangerously. 

“This master can… take walks whenever he pleases,” Shen Qingqiu rasped. He wished he still wasn’t so winded. No, protagonist! That wasn’t terror in his voice!! 

System?? Help? Shen Qingqiu cried out. 

“Besides,” Shen Qingqiu pressed. “Luo Binghe should worry about his own health.” His eyes slid down to the hand that grasped onto his wrist. There he saw the mark of the sower. By all level-headed reasoning, he knew that the disease would not harm Luo Binghe. That knowledge did nothing for the worry that wormed in his brain. 

[ Friendly reminder: the protagonist is a Heavenly Demon, immune to most poisons and diseases! ]

…

[ You’re welcome. No B-Points will be deducted for this explanation! ]

As Shen Qingqiu went to dismiss the dialogue box, he saw it again: that curious tilt to Luo Binghe’s head. The fingers against his pulse dug deeper. Pain smarted up his arm, and he forced himself not to cringe. He swallowed the discomfort down. 

“Shizun has learned some new tricks,” Luo Binghe said. The warmth in his voice had a sharp edge, and his eyes were lifeless things. “Shizun truly harbors such hatred towards his own disciple, he goes to such extremes to call for help?”

Wait.

What?

There was something dangerous in Luo Binghe’s eyes. Any hope that Shen Qingqiu had that he might be able to ask for forgiveness was dashed on that darkening glimmer. Fear laced through him. Terror wiped his mind of any sense. Luo Binghe took a single step forward. Without thought, Shen Qingqiu brought his free hand to Xiu Ya and began to draw it.

Fuck, FUCK-

He had to run. He had to get out there. He was a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf. It was too late. That didn’t stop him from trying to kick out his feet in one last attempt to leap away.

Luo Binghe moved at the same time, and caught the blade with his bare hand. 

Before the sword even fully drew from its scabbard, Luo Binghe stopped it. His blood dripped down the cold metal. Shen Qingqiu stared, aghast, as his disciple’s blood drenched the blade once again. A torrent of emotions rushed through him, none of which he could fully digest before he was pinned to the wall once more. 

“Is this lowly one truly such a beast that Shizun can’t stand holding a single conversation with him?” Luo Binghe snarled. His eyes flashed red. 

No, it's not that! Shen Qingqiu cried, then paused, Well, with how you're acting right now, sort of. SYSTEM!!

[ Yes, Host? ]

WHERE IS MY TIP!!

“Who does Shizun call for!?” 

W-what… what? WHAT? 

Luo Binghe growled. Anger twisted his expression so fiercely, it no longer was anything Shen Qingqiu recognized. There was only blood lust in those eyes. 

Luo Binghe couldn’t sense the System… could he??? 

Could he have leveled up so much-

“If Shizun wants so badly to be tied to another, why not this disciple as well?” Luo Binghe caught Shen Qingqiu’s hair and wrenched his head back. His bloodied hand clamped over his nose and mouth. 

Hot iron hit his tongue. Shen Qingqiu fought, trying to twist away. The hold on him tightened. He held his breath to close his throat, only to choke in surprise as a leg shoved between his own and nailed him to the wall. He flailed. 

Motherfucker – SYSTEM!!!! 

[ Access privileges activated. Use key item to maintain state of living? ] 

His vision was starting to splotch again. Fuck fuck fuck! Despite his best efforts, his body betrayed him and he tried to gasp in a breath. Blood slid down his throat, and he started choking in earnest. 

[ Item is- ]

“There it is.” Luo Binghe threw out a clawed hand, one drenched in demonic energy, and cleaved through the dialogue box. It splintered.

The dialogue box broke. Shards of bright light exploded outwards, demonic energy threading into it like a parasite. Then there was agony. It was as if someone had grasped onto the threads of his nerves and tried wrenching them from his body. Feverish heat burned through him. He didn’t realize he was screaming until Luo Binghe’s hand fell from his mouth; that wretched sound was him?

It was an inhuman noise – something he hadn’t even expected he could make. 

All at once, the blood lust fled from Luo Binghe; like someone had ripped open the curtains and he finally saw sunlight. 

Shen Qingqiu’s vision blackened.

He was on the ground, body seizing.

Someone else was bellowing.

Shizun!

Shizun!! 

Ah. He was dying, wasn’t he? Blood coated his throat, and he wasn’t sure how much of it was Luo Binghe’s or his own. Blood parasites flooded into his veins, stirring around in a strange frenzy. Blood spilled from his mouth, his nose, and he was almost certain from his eyes and ears as well. Shen Qingqiu’s vision was blurry. The pain was immense. It turned his limbs to cement. Still, above him, his sheep cried. He couldn’t have that, could he? What a tender heart. He raised a hand and caught the face of his desperate little sheep. Blood smeared across his cheek.

Panic and fear filled Luo Binghe’s eyes.

Shouldn’t he be celebrating…? 

Shen Qingqiu tried to speak. He had to tell him that it was fine. That this master understood what was coming for him – he understood what he had done. The words stubbornly refused to leave. 

Then there was darkness.

A quiet, steady beeping stirred Shen Qingqiu. It brought old memories crashing into him – ones from another life. Years spent in and out of the hospital. His fingers twitched. He wanted to snap at Mu Qingfang; whatever made that sound needed to stop now. Shen Qingqiu hated it. He hated it! The beeping quickened. 

Voices murmured somewhere in the room. 

That’s when Shen Yuan gasped, tearing up into a seated position. 

At the far side of the room, his father startled. He shot Shen Yuan a warning glance, and responded to someone on the phone. Be quiet, that glance warned him. 

The beeping quickened. Shen Yuan threw a wild look around the room, one that was so familiar to him. Most hospital rooms were carbon copies of another, with very little variation. Though his family might as well have rented one like a hotel room with how often Shen Yuan had been carted to one. 

“...I have something to attend to, you will have to excuse me,” his father said. “I will call you back later.” 

Shen Yuan drew his eyes out towards the large windows that faced the city. His heart rate continued to run in the background like a tiny needle picking at his eardrums. Confusion bent his brow. It took him too long to realize his father was addressing him. 

“How long…” Shen Yuan interrupted. 

His father’s face twitched with irritation.

There was a time in Shen Yuan’s life that he would have had both of his parents at his bedside when he woke, both clinging on to him with an aggrieved terror shining in their eyes. That was many years ago, hundreds of hospital trips before now.

“Two days,” his father answered.

Two days. Dread started to sink through Shen Yuan, and his heart rate began to settle. There was a precipice that he stood on in his mind. Almost-thoughts pressed against him, waiting for the right moment to toss him in. He shoved it down. Not. Now. His body was foreign to him. Aches pulsed up his arms and legs, with his own bones protesting abuse. His arms felt too short. He didn’t even recognize his own hands. His hair – where was his hair? 

“...are you listening?” His father stepped up next to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. In a rare moment, his face softened. “The doctor said you were in and out of it for a while. Though you should be stable.” 

Despite the softness of his face, his voice was as clerical as if he were talking about a hiccup in a business plan, not his own son. Shen Yuan had long since learned that some people just reached their capacity for empathy and sorrow, and they simply just… stopped. He had long since stopped blaming them. It was a relief, really, not worrying about being a burden on their hearts.

“I’m fine,” Shen Yuan lied. There was no point in telling his father anything else. 

With a nod, his father withdrew his hand. “I told your sister you were on a short trip. You will have to come up with where you went.” 

Right. Shen Yuan’s eyes fell shut. If his sister had heard that Shen Yuan had another episode, she wouldn’t have left his side. She was the only one left that he hadn’t exhausted. Not yet, at least.  

Mistaking his silence for something else, his father chided, “She has exams.”

“I understand,” Shen Yuan said.

There was a long drawn out silence. His father stared him down. Shen Yuan did not want to hear the same lecture again – the same piss poor excuses. He was an adult now. They had spent so much of his youth doting on him. Now it was time for his siblings to be looked after. 

It was only fair. 

Sometimes, Shen Yuan wondered if they ever quietly pleaded, Just die. 

“Someone brought my bag?” Shen Yuan asked, keeping his voice civil.

“Yes,” his father glanced towards the closet. “Your things are in there, including a change of clothes.” He paused as he glanced down at his phone, his eyebrows tightened together. “They’ll want to…” He frowned. “I have to take this. Your friend can take you home. Right?” 

“Mn.” Shen Yuan stared out the window, not really listening.

His father didn’t even wait for his answer, heading towards the door. “Hello?” A pause. “No need to apologize. It wasn’t anything important.” The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Shen Yuan alone.

He stared down at his hands. 

He should get out of here, and return to the Jin Zi Weapons shop, and see if there have been any developments with the sowers. Ah. Right. One had touched his hand. His cursed hand. Except that right now there wasn’t a single blemish on it. Just bright veins against his paper-thin skin. It was a stranger’s hand.

And there was Binghe. Binghe had been cursed as well.

Binghe. 

His white sheep.

Now a black lotus.

Shen Yuan’s hands curled, his nails digging into his palms. He started shaking. His heart rate picked up, the annoying beep getting faster and faster. 

He had done that, didn’t he? 

The System had told him – hardly gave him a choice. Either betray his little white sheep or die. But it was a choice. And instead of dying…

“Binghe,” Shen Yuan choked. His arms wrapped tightly around his torso and his eyes squeezed shut. They burned. Something clogged his throat, making it hard to swallow and even harder to breathe.

His cheeks were suddenly wet. 

A weakened, strangled noise ruptured from the back of his throat.

Whatever Luo Binghe had done, it brought him back here. That should have been impossible. He transmigrated. He thought he died. He thought…

Two days.

What if it all had been nothing but a dream? 

His mind couldn’t connect from one thing or another. He kept thinking that Without a Cure was acting up, and that’s where his cultivation had gone.

When his eyes closed, he saw Luo Binghe. He had changed so much. He was broken. Shen Yuan had broken him. Was it worth it, if he was going to die anyways? If he was going to come back-

Was any of it real?

A quiet, shuddering breath left Shen Yuan, and his entire body started wracking with soundless sobs. He had learned to cry quietly decades ago. Hands clutched to his chest; he curled his knees up to his chest. Grief smashed his lungs flat, and he couldn’t take in a breath. His mouth dropped open in a silent, anguished scream. 

Why was being back in his own body worse than being dead?

He didn’t want to be like this. He didn’t want the last near-decade of his life to be nothing but a dream. He wanted his disciples. His peak. His home. He wanted Luo Binghe at his side again, eager to learn with a sun-bright smile.

He wanted Liu Qingge’s awkward conversations, and even more awkward gifts.

He would even take Luo Binghe’s anger and his revenge. It was better than this. Better than-

Something hit the ground with a clang.

Shen Yuan dropped his hands. He hadn’t heard the door open again. Had one of the nurses…? 

On the other side of the room stood a man. His presence alone ate up the entirety of the room. He stood tall, with a face so striking it made Shen Yuan’s lungs ache. His hair was thick and curled, pulled into a half-up style. A leather jacket adorned his shoulders. He had spikes on his belt, and thick military standard boots with a metal tip over the toes. Every single inch of this man screamed dangerous. 

“...Binghe?!” 

Chapter Text

Shen Qingqiu was dying.

Agony burned in his eyes, even as he tried to force them to something gentle and kind. His lips moved, and instead of words, blood slipped down his chin and colored the front of his robes. It was Luo Binghe's fault. Shen Qingqiu should hate him. He should be angry and spitting fire, cursing Luo Binghe on his last breath. Instead it almost seemed as if he were trying to comfort him. 

Luo Binghe's throat was raw from screaming. There was a time in his life where his shizun was large and indomitable; a fortress that would stand for ages to come; a tree that held thousands of lifetimes within its roots; a mountain so steady and certain that nothing could bring it down.

And now he was dying. 

His blood parasites worked in a frenzy. Something was happening. Luo Binghe needed one fucking moment. He needed a minute, an hour; he needed more time than he was going to get. Because Shen Qingqiu was fading. There was energy sparking around him, violent and vindictive. It was the same energy he had sensed on his shizun before; foreign and cold. Now it tore through Shen Qingqiu's meridians and attacked his brain.

Luo Binghe gathered Shen Qingqiu in his arms (he seemed so small, why was he so small now?) and poured every last bit of his qi into his shizun. 

Energy crashed together in a titanic burst.

Everything went black.

There was sterile, clean air, and a peculiar beeping. Luo Binghe snapped awake. He sat in an uncomfortable chair with a man towering over him. The man wore foreign clothing; sharp, crisp cloth that looked unforgiving and exuded wealth. Despite the clean cut of his clothes, he had short hair. He stared down at Luo Binghe in disapproval. It wasn’t a look Luo Binghe wasn’t used to – it’s just been a while since anyone had dared. His eyebrows furrowed, and he shot the man an equally unpleasant look.

He didn’t even notice. A small black box sat in the palm of his hand, held up to his ear, and he turned from Luo Binghe to talk into it. He paced leisurely around a small room.

Everything was off. Luo Binghe's body was sluggish and slow. A quiet ache whispered in his joints, and everything was slightly off-color. Muted. He blinked several times, as if waiting for his eyes to adjust. They never did. 

Luo Binghe had woken in many strange situations before. The time he spent in the Abyss forced him to learn to adapt or die. It hardly got any easier outside of the Abyss in the demon realm. The creatures he faced there were smarter and cunning. He had woken without his cultivation before. This was fine.

At least, he tried to tell himself that. The air grew thinner. His vision darkened at the edges.

It was fine.

His cultivation-

Someone gasped at the far end of the small room.

Atop some sort of plush bed, there was a diminutive man with brittle arms and dark circles bruising the bottoms of his eyes. The beeping quickened as he drew a dazed, confused look over the room. The man on the phone addressed him. Their exchange was cold, that of two strangers. Luo Binghe took stock of himself as the two conversed. Neither seemed at all worried about him or his presence.

First of all, the room was clean and bright, though despite those two things it was rather bleak. It did not seem like a prison cell. The door was closed, and a curtain drew over a thin and tall window beside it. Beyond the gauzy fabric, there was some sort of hallway. The door might be locked, and if so Luo Binghe would just smash through the window. Either he could wrap the fabric around his arm to mitigate the damage, or he could attempt using the chair. The room was mostly bare. It reminded Luo Binghe of a medical recovery room. If that were the case, then why was he here and not with-

Shizun-

Next, Luo Binghe wore strange clothes: uncomfortable tight pants that pinched, what felt like several layers of differing styles, and some strange bit of leather that was too tight on his shoulders.

Thirdly, and worst of all, was his cultivation. There was nothing. Nothing. Even as he tried to call forth his demonic blood, there was no answer. His hands remained chillingly human. Something wasn’t right. Whatever he did to Shen Qingqiu-

Luo Binghe’s heart collapsed to the floor. His shizun’s screams echoed in his head. Tears burned his eyes. Not once had he ever heard his master so much as gasp in pain before. Not even when Without a Cure acted up. Not when Luo Binghe had slammed him into a fucking wall-

His eyes squeezed shut and he had a hard time controlling his breathing. He recognized this. Some sort of illness that caused his lungs to snap shut and make the world dark. He had fallen into a few of these in his time in the Abyss. It had gotten better outside of it, only one or two occasionally surprising him. Needles pierced his chest. The edges of his vision narrowed. 

Stop, he scorned himself, grabbing tight on to his chest as he stared at a single point on the floor.

You will get through this, Luo Binghe mouthed the words to himself. He always got through it. There was always a goal. He broke down his situation. One: figure out where he was. Two: figure out why he was here. Three: as soon as he found someone to pay attention to him, he would force them to bring him back to his shizun. 

He kept repeating the words, and the steps, and breaking them down further and further into simple, easily achievable things. 

He did not think about his cultivation.

He did not think about the fact that everything he had worked for, the only reason he had ever survived, was gone. Like it never existed.

The man with the strange block was talking to it again. He left the room without a backwards glance. It wasn’t anything important, he had said.

Fourthly, Xin Mo was gone.

It should make him panic. It should make him feel unsafe.

Instead he just felt relief. 

Like sunlight breaking through a heavy curtain of fog. Or stepping into the shade after training underneath the sun for hours.

His muscles relaxed, and he leaned back in his chair to bask in the silence. It was silence (other than the incessant beeping.) There were no voices in his head, and no endless, gaping hunger. The vengeful anger that had plagued him since the moment he stumbled across that thing... it was quiet.

Serene.

It became easier to breathe. His traitorous mind found other things to torment him with. The previous night started to replay in his mind's eye. He took each moment and broke it apart; opening the door to Shizun's room. Chasing him. At what point had he lost control? He had let Xin Mo spill too freely into his mind. It fed his betrayal and his hurt; he never actually wanted to hurt Shen Qingqiu. He just wanted answers. Why did he push him into the Abyss? His shizun said that demons had the capacity to be good, and yet he decided Luo Binghe was not. Why?  Why did his shizun hate him so much? Why wouldn’t he just talk to him? Why? WHY? 

His shizun had told him- 

He said-

“Binghe.”

The man in the bed… said his name?

Had Luo Binghe heard right…?

His focus shifted back to the peculiar room, with its odd smells, to the strange man on the bed. Huh. The man was crying. A half-drawn curtain blocked most of Luo Binghe's view, and he realized with a start that he must be hidden. Luo Binghe’s stomach twisted with sharp discomfort when he saw those glistening trails. He felt as if he had stepped into something he wasn’t meant to see. Throat tight, he drew up to his feet and scoured the room until he found what he was looking for: some sort of thin, black box. It was different to the one that man had. It only had a few choice symbols on the face of it, and looked as if they were buttons to be pressed. He threw out a careless hand and swept it off the side table. It hit the ground with a clatter.

On the bed, the man straightened in shock. His eyes swept through the room and snapped to him in an instant. 

His expression twitched, recognition spilling into the depths of his eyes.

“...Binghe?!”

Luo Binghe stared at him, perplexed. The man spoke his name with such familiarity. He watched the man's dazed confusion shift into mortification. In an instant, a mask slid over the man’s face and he straightened in his bed. The body language was familiar. Achingly familiar. Luo Binghe straightened his shoulders and narrowed his eyes. “How do you know me?”

His fingers ached to have any sort of weapon. Without his cultivation he felt so chillingly mortal. Though, the man in front of him was weak. It wouldn’t take much to overpower him. His bones probably would snap with the barest hint of pressure. Even without his cultivation, Luo Binghe was strong. (He had to keep reminding himself that.) He began to weigh his options in his mind: charm or threaten? This man had answers. He knew who Luo Binghe was, which meant he knew why Luo Binghe was brought here. 

The man opened his mouth to answer, then stopped. He swallowed whatever he was about to say. One of his hands came up and pressed against his temple. “Are… are you real?” 

Luo Binghe stilled, keeping his expression neutral and pleasant. What? What sort of question was that?

Unless...

When Shizun had di-

When Shen Qingqiu was-

Back in that alley, there was some sort of qi explosion. The sensation afterward was not unlike stepping through one of Xin Mo's portals, but bigger. There was the slight possibility that Luo Binghe was no where near Jin Lan City or even in the same realm. The thought sent a slight spark of fear into his chest, one that he quickly crushed. He would not give in to panic. This was just another obstacle. He would get back to his shizun, no matter where he was.

Luo Binghe let his head fall to one side. “This one would like to think so.” 

Uncertain, the stranger shrank into himself. At some point he had cleaned his face of any evidence of tears, as if he hadn’t just been holding his broken heart in his hands. The switch was so fast, and so practiced. And so fucking familiar-

Oh.

Luo Binghe’s heart leapt into his throat. He took a few steps towards the bed, magnetized. His eyes scoured the stranger, curious. What he wore was highly inappropriate, nothing but a single thin layer of fabric. The sleeves were short, showing off delicate arms that had some bruising here and there. The collar of the top was too loose; painfully sharp collarbones jutted out beneath a long, slender neck.

The man turned his face away, thoughts churning like a massive storm in his eyes. His mouth opened and shut again, as if he was trying to come to terms with reality. 

Cautious, Luo Binghe lifted a hand and laid it to rest over the stranger’s. The man jumped at the contact, and the peculiar device next to him started beeping faster. His hand was startlingly cold, like ice. “It appears this one is real,” Luo Binghe said. Without Xin Mo whispering into his mind, it was easier to keep calm.

Without a fan, Shen Qingqiu could only turn his face away as a blush rose up and colored his deathly pale cheeks. He stared out the window, blinking fast. “...why are you here…?” 

It was without a doubt that this man was his shizun. Luo Binghe spent the better part of his life studying him, learning the subtle tweaks of his expressions in a desperate and hungry way to know him. Shizun kept so much behind his masks and his fans, it was far too difficult to pick apart who he was underneath. Though Luo Binghe had lived with him for years. He learned to read the soft tilt of Shen Qingqiu's lips. He was mesmerized by the grace that coated each and every single one of his shizun's movements. Even something as simple as picking up a dirtied dish was made into a spectacular art by this man.

He was no different now, trapped in the body of someone else, sitting in inappropriate clothing. 

Luo Binghe wondered if his shizun knew he looked different. He had to, right? This body of his was so much smaller than his other, and so much weaker. Would he admit to Luo Binghe who he was? Luo Binghe's eyebrows tightened together. “This one finds his memories.. a bit fuzzy. Why are you here?” 

“I’m ill,” Shen Qingqiu answered, unlike himself. His eyes became half-lidded with the weight of a lifetime of burdens.

Stomach twisting, Luo Binghe’s hand tightened over his shizun’s. “This one will seek a cure-” 

“There is none,” Shen Qingqiu interrupted. His eyebrow pinched in pain and a slight breath sucked in through his soft lips. He glanced down at their joined hands for half a second.

It was enough to make Luo Binghe understand. He snapped back his hand immediately. Already he saw Shen Qingqiu’s flesh mottle in response to his tightened grip. His stomach sank. He had hardly exerted any pressure. Whatever curse had brought them here, it had greatly changed his shizun’s form, weakening him into a frail, mortal capsule. He needed answers. He wanted to scream and shake Shen Qingqiu, to force him to fucking speak.

Why are you acting as if you already understand what's going!?

Why won't you tell me anything?!

Luo Binghe could not wait for answers, and he knew better than to bombard and demand them. That had only led to... this. Whatever, wherever, this was. He decided to play dumb and see where that got him. “Does this young master know where we are?” He wondered if his shizun would correct him. He wanted his master to correct him.

There was no reaction. “Yes,” Shen Qingqiu said, keeping his head turned away from Luo Binghe. The short crop of hair on his head did nothing to hide his face. A blush had crept all the way up his neck, settling in his ears. As if remembering something, Shen Qingqiu sat up and threw a startled look at Luo Binghe. “We have to get out of here.”

“Are we in danger?” Luo Binghe asked, bracing himself for a fight. 

“No.” Shen Qingqiu shook his head with a frown. “But they won’t let you spend the night, and you going off on your own sounds like a terrible idea.” 

The reproach in his shizun’s voice made Luo Binghe grin with glee. “Oh? Does this young master know this Binghe so well?” Any question that Shen Qingqiu did not know what was going on flew out the window. He was familiar with this place, and familiar with his disciple. 

Shen Qingqiu went to answer with a huff, until his words stilled. He flattened his lips into a thin line. “Luo Binghe shouldn’t wander off on his own.” 

Luo Binghe almost sighed. He ignored the sting of pain in his chest. Why did his shizun try to keep so many things to himself? No matter. Luo Binghe altered his initial plans. There was more than one way to try and get information. “Well,” Luo Binghe smiled sweetly, reaching out to take Shen Qingqiu’s hand. He ran his thumb over his knuckles. “This Binghe will trust in this young master to make certain he does not get lost.” 

It was a bold move that had his own heart spinning.

At any moment, his shizun would break. He would scorn Luo Binghe, and give himself away. Then-

“R-Right,” Shen Qingqiu swallowed, then he added, “Shen Yuan.” 

What?

“Shen Yuan,” Luo Binghe murmured. The name rolled around his tongue, and as he looked over his shizun he spotted the slightest piece of vulnerability in his eyes. It wasn't the type of look a liar had when they came up with a name. It was... the truth. Luo Binghe's heart started roaring in his ears. This was the closest he had ever gotten to getting any semblance of truth about his shizun's past. Could... this be it? Still, Luo Binghe could not resist the urge to get back at his shizun for withholding his identity. So, he added, “Yuan-gege.” 

With a jolt, Shen Yuan threw Luo Binghe a wide-eyed, embarrassed look. “Binghe!” He scorned. 

It was delicious to be under that reprimanding gaze again. Luo Binghe couldn’t stop his grin, or the near giggle that followed after it. “What?” He asked, blinking innocently at Shen Yuan.

“You’re probably older than I am,” Shen Yuan mustered, his eyes falling to the side again. His shoulders curled ever so slightly. It seemed without a fan, Shen Yuan liked to sink into himself. 

Luo Binghe resolved to find him a fan sooner rather than later. “But Yuan-gege seems so much more mature and well learned than this Binghe...” He thought aloud, keeping his voice innocent and light. It might be cruel, but until Shen Yuan told Luo Binghe who he was, he was not going to go easy on him. 

With a heavy breath and dark blush, Shen Yuan waved Luo Binghe away. “The nurses will need to come in before they’ll discharge me. Go sit down. It won’t take too long.” Under his breath he added, “Hopefully.” 

Chapter Text

It took far longer than Shen Yuan wanted to get out of there. Out of the corner of his eye, he kept a watch on Luo Binghe when the nurses first flooded into the room. His sharp attention was not missed, and Luo Binghe kept flashing… flirty? Smiles?? At Shen Yuan?? 

No. Shen Yuan had to be misinterpreting those smiles! It made more sense to think that Luo Binghe was overwhelmed and nervous, and maybe that’s why his smiles looked weird? 

Whatever. The important fact was that the nurses actually saw Luo Binghe. (One point towards not being insane. Woo!) At first there was a slight tension in the room. Luo Binghe was a cutting silhouette; one that screamed “rebellious” and “dangerous." The nurses weren’t quite sure what to make of him. All it took was a big smile and a few well-placed words for Luo Binghe to be immediately swept into the good grace and care of the nurses. It was embarrassing. They all had known Shen Yuan since he was young, so they had the audacity to be relentless in their teasing. 

“He never brings anyone around!”

“Finally we know that our little Shen Yuan can make friends!"

“Such a handsome young man too!”

Shen Yuan spent the rest of the time trying to mitigate his own humiliation, and to make sure that Luo Binghe did not give away that he wasn’t even from this fucking world!!!

The beginnings of a headache started to inch around his skull.

He had to get the protagonist back into his own story before– 

Before… what?

The story would collapse, wouldn’t it?

Worry stung his chest as he thought of Liu Qingge, and everyone else whose lives would end if he didn’t figure out how to fix this. First things first: get Luo Binghe back to his apartment.

Not, uh, like that! 

He had to get Luo Binghe somewhere safe before he did something that got them both carted off to prison or some mental institution.

Ugh. 

Right as the last nurse was preparing to leave the room, she leaned in close to Shen Yuan and said in a loud whisper, “Your boyfriend is very polite!” 

Shen Yuan might have died for a third time. (The first, of course, being his transmigration into Shen Qingqiu, and the second being the transmigration back into his own body.) He sputtered. 

With a laugh, the nurse patted him on his head. “Don’t worry, we’ve been hedging bets for a while. Glad I finally get to collect!”

Bets!? On what!?

Before Shen Yuan could clear up any misunderstanding, the nurse vacated the room. He very studiously ignored any curious glances from Luo Binghe. He swept the blankets aside and scooted off the bed. It was odd being in this body again. The weakness in his limbs was foreign. He had long since forgotten what it was like to compensate for the constant slight pulses of pain, along with the dizziness that often trailed after him. 

It might have been a slight blessing. He looked nothing like Shen Qingqiu, which meant at least in this world he hadn’t earned Luo Binghe’s scorn! All he had to do was not give away the fact that he was a transmigrator, and then he could get Luo Binghe back to his world! He had to admit what a relief it was to have his little sheep back on his side. His hand wrapped around a cane, and he used it to stand.

Questions burned in Luo Binghe’s eyes, but he did not ask any aloud. He waited, patient and quiet, for Shen Yuan to gather his things.

After a change of clothes and several different written forms and verbal assurances, Yes, I’m fine. Staying here any longer won’t change anything, he and Luo Binghe were able to step out of the hospital. 

Had he been any other patient, if they hadn’t known him for as long as they did, they might have fought harder to keep him.

But he was the spoiled son of a rich family who spent enough time at the hospital for it to be a second home.

His attention drifted towards the man at this side. It was odd seeing Luo Binghe here.  He was made for a world with monsters and swords and magic. Yet here he stood, almost… normal. Well. Not too normal. People kept throwing looks at him as if he were a celebrity. He didn’t seem to notice. As soon as they hit the pandemonium of the outside world, walking the streets, Luo Binghe’s eyes fell into a slight squint. 

The life of a city grew around them, like a discordant band that kept adding in more instruments. It smelled. It was noisy. Cars honked, buses screeched, and sirens constantly screamed in the distance. And there were people. So many people. 

“Stay close,” Shen Yuan told Luo Binghe.

A hand wrapped around his, and he felt heat crawl up his cheeks. Ugh! He never thought he’d miss another man’s body. Shen Qingqiu never managed to blush this much! 

Looking as innocent as ever, Luo Binghe smiled at him. “This way, I won’t lose Yuan-gege!” 

Shen Yuan considered stepping out in front of one of the many fast cars. He barely restrained himself. I’m doing this for you, PIDW!! He held back the urge to pull up his hood and disappear into it. Instead, he led Luo Binghe down the street. “It’s a few blocks to the train,” he told him. “Then it will be about a forty minute ride.” 

“Mn.” 

That was a slightly strained response, unlike Luo Binghe. Eyebrows falling together, Shen Yuan dared a glance at the man beside him. His disciple caught his eye, and quickly smoothed out his face to flash him a warm smile. Not for the first time, he wondered why Luo Binghe was okay with all of this. He had just been transported into another world, and he hadn’t even bothered to ask Shen Yuan anything other than his first few questions. 

Normal people would be freaking out.

Maybe Luo Binghe assumed it all was a dream?

(Was it?)

They stood at a crosswalk, waiting as a crowd of people gathered. Shen Yuan leaned against his cane. He watched his disciple out of the corner of his eye.

Sweat began to glisten on Luo Binghe’s forehead. His eyes fell into another squint, with his eyebrows collapsing together. Someone bumped into Luo Binghe’s side, and he shot them a glare that made Shen Yuan’s heart jump in fear. Ah, there is the black lotus! 

The light changed, and Shen Yuan guided them across. 

Luo Binghe kept his head down, eyes slightly shut. He didn’t take in the advertisements, the people, the technology, or anything. 

That’s when it clicked for Shen Yuan.

Ah, my poor little sheep! This master understands now!

He guided Luo Binghe to an alcove between buildings. “Hold this,” he told him, passing over the cane, as he swung off his backpack and dropped it to the ground. Crouching, he began to dig through it. There weren't too many things in here – it was his hospital bag. It had money, some identification, an extra jacket because he was always cold, and–

There!

Triumphant, Shen Yuan pulled out his prize. He straightened up, and started to say, “I have-” A wave of dizziness crashed over him. 

Luo Binghe’s hand snapped out to steady him.

Flustered, Shen Yuan cleared his throat. “I have these for you. They’ll help.” He held up his offering.

“Yuan-gege is so thoughtful,” Luo Binghe said with a sugary sweet smile. “This one… finds himself lacking education on what these are.”

How does someone even begin to explain overstimulation to an overpowered half-demon protagonist? It only makes sense that there would be too much going on for Luo Binghe in the city!! It was a lot for Shen Yuan, and he grew up here! “Here,” Shen Yuan said, deftly ignoring the ever persistent use of ‘gege,’ “can I?” 

Luo Binghe hummed his assent. 

“Bend down then,” Shen Yuan said with slight scorn. The man was a giant. So!! Unfair!!! Shen Yuan hadn’t realized how tall Shen Qingqiu had been, not until he was stuck like this again! His height had never bothered him. At least not until he was standing in front of a god-like protagonist that was as tall as a skyscraper. 

A pleased smile filled Luo Binghe’s lips. This one was more real than the last. (How did Shen Yuan know that?) “This one will do whatever Yuan-gege asks of him.” His eyes fluttered coyly.

Why did that sound so suggestive!?

Binghe!!

Clearing his throat, Shen Yuan tugged up the hood of Luo Binghe’s jacket. Embarrassingly, he had to gather Luo Binghe’s hair and pull it to the side, and his hand trailed across the back of Luo Binghe’s neck. Did he just shiver? Shen Yuan supposed his hands were cold. His sister always complained that they were, at least. With the hood up, he turned on the headphones and placed them over Luo Binghe’s head. He connected them to his phone and pulled up some soothing guqin playlist. 

Almost instantly, Luo Binghe’s shoulders relaxed. His smile loosened. “Yuan-gege takes good care of this Binghe.” 

Not wanting to shout over the music, Shen Yuan pulled up a writing app on his phone and hastily wrote out, “Just a little bit more to the train. If the music is too loud, just tap my shoulder.” 

With fascination, Luo Binghe looked down at the screen. He glanced up into Shen Yuan’s eyes. Warmth filled his expression, and he nodded.

What are you doing, smiling like that at a complete stranger!?

Shen Yuan ducked his head before his blush could finish forming, and he took back his cane. This time, he held out his free hand and waited for Luo Binghe to take it before he guided him back down the street. 

This was fine.

It was fine. 

He tried telling his heart that as it bounced around his ribs like an eager puppy. Stop that! 

All of this was a minor setback. Whatever it was. He would get Luo Binghe back to his world, and…

There was no use thinking about what would happen after. He needed to worry about right now. Like getting Luo Binghe back to his… apartment. Why did that seem like the only safe option!? 

Going to a hotel seemed worse! 

Not before long, they made it to the station, and waited for the next train. With the headphones secure on his head, Luo Binghe gave in to his interest and looked all around him. Even with his hood up, he still drew many eyes. 

Shen Yuan saw more than a few people casting curious eyes towards him and… their joined hands.

His heart began to bounce around again. He dutifully ignored it. 

The train arrived, and they followed a crowd in. Luo Binghe’s hand tightened around his own. With a hum, Shen Yuan let his cane hang off his arm as he reached over to pat consolingly on Luo Binghe’s arm. They made it into the packed car. 

After a bit of elbowing and maneuvering, Shen Yuan got Luo Binghe next to the window, with no one else around them. He stood as a wall between his disciple and the crowd. Not that he was much of a wall. The train called overhead in warning. Shen Yuan dropped Luo Binghe’s hand to catch on to a pole. 

The train set off. Startled, Luo Binghe caught on to Shen Yuan. One hand caught on to his shoulder, and the other on his waist.

Their eyes met. 

“Sorry,” Shen Yuan mouthed. “I should have warned you.” He moved one of Luo Binghe’s hands to the pole, and patted his forearm consolingly.

Something tender spilled into the darks of Luo Binghe’s eyes. 

Clearing his throat, Shen Yuan dropped his gaze. With his cane hooked on his arm, he pointedly started scrolling on his phone. One of Luo Binghe’s hands stayed on his waist. He tried not to focus on it. Luo Binghe just needed some stability! Something to ground him in this new and frightening world. That’s all it was. Or maybe he thought Shen Yuan might fall? He found himself flipping between the same two apps before he realized that he didn’t even know what to do with this thing anymore. All the muscle memory he had for it – pulling up forums, scrolling blogs, so on so forth – had erased over the time he spent as a-

Did that really happen? 

His lips pursed. He had a ridiculous urge to make sure that Luo Binghe was real and wanted to ask him if he even remembered another world. His eyes lifted from the phone. To his shock, Luo Binghe was watching him. 

Heat scorched his skin.

Why??? There is! So many things to see! Even a window! I got you a window!! 

Luo Binghe held out his hand. (It was the hand holding on to the pole – not the one on Shen Yuan’s waist. Huh.)

Curious, Shen Yuan dropped the phone into his palm.

Luo Binghe, ever the quick learner, began manipulating the items on the screen. After a few stumbling moments, he managed to find the note app. His eyes lit up in triumph as he fumbled over the keyboard. In a few short moments, he wrote, Does Yuan-gege have more sound options?

When he passed the phone back to Shen Yuan, their hands brushed. It was ridiculous for Shen Yuan’s heart to jump. They had been holding hands before! He considered the question, before venturing, I have some playlists. He paused, and deleted it before writing, There are songs that are very different to the ones you are used to. Want to give some a try? 

Luo Binghe considered, again their hands brushing, as he wrote back, Are these songs that Yuan-gege likes?

Shen Yuan nodded.

A smile filled Luo Binghe’s lips, and he nodded eagerly. 

They spent some time diving through some of Shen Yuan’s playlists. It should have been boring, standing in silence as he queued up songs for someone else to listen to. Though he had an immense amount of satisfaction watching Luo Binghe react to the music. He hadn't realized how close the two of them had drifted, not until he felt Luo Binghe's breath tickle his forehead as he huffed a slight laugh. (The current song was meant to be humorous; it was about a date who had a very questionable fascination with a certain grotesque horror film.) Shen Yuan tried to take half a step back, to put more space between the two of them.

He should have been paying attention. At the same time, a flood of new passengers spilled into their car. A large back-pack collided with Shen Yuan, and he bit back a surprised yelp. He fell. Arms caught him, and he was folded into the safety of Luo Binghe's strong hold. He did not see the dark, almost murderous glance that Luo Binghe shot the man with a large backpack. At the moment, Shen Yuan was a little preoccupied.

Oh, no. 

Shen Yuan had never been held like this before – as if he were something precious that needed to be tenderly protected.

Warmth surrounded him. It was comforting, and smelled really good. He could have melted. Luo Binghe, with the gentlest touch and care, moved the two of them so that Shen Yuan's back rested against the window. He lifted one arm to box Shen Yuan in, hand resting right next to his head, and used his own body to shield Shen Yuan from the rest of the crowded train. His eyes swept down over Shen Yuan's face, and he pulled off the headphones. "Yuan-gege?" 

"Mn?" Shen Yuan did not trust his voice. His heart took up too much space in his throat. He knew he was blushing. 

Didn't Luo Binghe know that this was a classic romantic cliche!? What was he doing!?? It wasn't even the right world!! He had over six hundred maidens waiting for his return in PIDW! 

"Are you alright?" Luo Binghe searched his eyes.

"Yes," Shen Yuan croaked. He knew he shouldn't trust his voice! Ah, how embarrassing. It cracked! Anyone would react like that, if they had such a handsome face in front of them! 

Unconvinced, Luo Binghe frowned. The hand that wasn't boxing Shen Yuan in lowered to hold Shen Yuan's waist, steadying him as the train rocked back and forth.

He was quite steady, thank-you! 

Shen Yuan cleared his throat, placing a hand over the one on his waist, "No need. This m-" 

Shit.

He almost fell back into Shen Qingqiu's diction!

Stuttering, Shen Yuan corrected, "I-I am fine! Just normal train things. Now stop fussing, hm?" He tugged away Luo Binghe's hand and shot him a warning glance. "I'm not going to collapse." Well, there had been several times in Shen Yuan's life when he had collapsed, but for the sake of this argument he wasn't going to bring them up. 

Almost as if he were pleased to be disciplined, Luo Binghe grinned. The now freed hand rested on the other side of Shen Yuan's head. His eyes darkened and he leaned in close. "If Yuan-gege says so."

Shen Yuan could not back up anymore. There was a window preventing him from doing that! He refused to back down, setting his jaw and raising his chin to narrow his eyes at Luo Binghe. He wished he had a fan to hit his disciple! 

Ah. Wait.

Their faces were too close!

Far, far too close! To anyone else, it might look like they were going to kiss!

It was at that exact moment that the train jerked, and someone collided into Luo Binghe's back. Shock widened Luo Binghe's eyes, and he fell forward. Their faces crashed, noses smashing together. A strangled noise slipped from Luo Binghe, and he stumbled half a step forward. Shen Yuan went from being boxed in to being pinned against the window. 

And...

And!?

Kiss-?

Shen Yuan threw his hands out and attempted to shove Luo Binghe back. The man was solid as stone. He turned his face away, skin hot. There was far too much of Luo Binghe on him. One leg was between his own, and-

"B-Binghe!"

Another small noise left Luo Binghe. He managed to move just enough to pull their faces back. Luo Binghe was... blushing!? "This-" he choked.

"No matter!" Shen Yuan admonished, too horrified to hear Luo Binghe bring up what just happened! It!! Did not happen! Thank you!

The train rocked again. Luo Binghe was forced to lean against his forearms, still mostly pinning Shen Yuan. Heat kindled in Shen Yuan. It had to be because Luo Binghe was so warm. And the embarrassment of having him so close. Ah. Luo Binghe was quite muscular, wasn't he? And warm. He smelled nice. Did he exist in this world before, and find Shen Yuan? Or did he wake up in that hospital room? How come no one questioned the fact that a random man was in his room? 

His father had even mentioned a friend, didn't he...?

"D-Did you," Shen Yuan spoke, his voice cracking. He was determined to ignore their current situation. "Did you just wake up in the hospital room?" He refused to look into Luo Binghe's eyes. 

It took a bit for Luo Binghe to answer. He shifted. His thighs slid against Shen Yuan's hips. "I-" He cleared his throat. "Yes, this one woke up and-" Right as he moved back half an inch, someone moved and shoved Luo Binghe back against him.

The movement was worse!

It was worse!

"Binghe."

"I-I am sorry," Luo Binghe gasped into his ear.

Oh, no. 

Never mind. That was the worst. Shen Yuan, at some point, had covered up Luo Binghe's mouth with his hand. It was to preserve both of their dignities! "Binghe," Shen Yuan said, forcing his voice to be low and calm. "It's fine. You're fine. It's just a few more stops, alright?" We can get through this, Binghe! It must be disorienting to be stuck in such a strange situation with a complete stranger. His heart sank.

Luo Binghe blinked a few times down at him. The shy embarrassment melted off his face, and he watched Shen Yuan with warmth in his eyes. He nodded once. 

"I'm sorry," Shen Yuan told him. "I should have called a car. There's nothing to be done about it now. Just do what you need to get comfortable." He reached up and replaced the headphones back on Luo Binghe's head. "I understand." 

"Sh..." Luo Binghe stumbled over his words, his eyes watering. His lips pulled into a thin line, and he nodded. After a few moments of contemplation, he managed to shift them into a different position. He leaned over, forearm braced above their heads, with his head resting on Shen Yuan's shoulder. 

With a sigh, and definitely no smile, Shen Yuan consolingly patted Luo Binghe's back. Dry those tears, little sheep! They stayed like that for the rest of the trip, Luo Binghe braced well enough to not get jostled into Shen Yuan any further. It was close, but not as uncomfortable as it should have been. Shen Yuan ignored the little worm in his heart that told him that it might have been really nice to be protected and warm on the train. He ignored how soft Luo Binghe's hair was on his cheek. He ignored the way his heart crawled up his throat. Instead, he continued to pick songs for Luo Binghe, sometimes feeling his breath spill over his neck. 

It was... 

Maybe, just maybe, it wasn't the worst experience ever.

We'll be back at my apartment soon, Binghe! I promise!

Shen Yuan definitely did not think about what would happen once they finally got there.

Chapter Text

Luo Binghe had to reserve every single last drop of restraint to not brush his fingers over his lips. It was quick, and absolutely an accident. That didn’t matter to him. It was his first kiss. His heart was causing havoc in his chest, and he wondered if his shizun could hear it. The two of them were close enough that all Luo Binghe could smell was him. 

There had been a turning point in Luo Binghe’s life when he had started seeing his shizun as someone other than an untouchable immortal god. Though he could not pinpoint the exact moment he fell in love. It felt more like an inevitability, rather than a single event or moment. It was like the slow growth of a tree, from a sapling to a massive tower filling up with branches and leaves. Something you didn’t even notice until one day you looked out your window and the tree blocked your view.

Luo Binghe ached. 

Standing this close to his shizun was a dream. Even his younger self barely dared to even fantasize about what it might be like to be this close. Though Luo Binghe was greedy.

He wanted to be closer.

Then the train ride was over.

Whatever little bubble he had created with Shen Yuan popped, and the real world came barreling in. He knew he should be paying more attention to his surroundings. If he and Shen Yuan were separated, he would be helpless. There were hundreds of people – it was overwhelming, loud, and smelly. It reminded him vaguely of the Immortal Alliance Conference. Though, a hundred times worse. His hands twitched with unease. Not even Jin Lan City, in the midst of a plague, was this bad. 

Even with the device Shen Yuan gave him, his headache was quietly persistent. He had no cultivation to banish it. 

People brushed past them, and shot them looks as if they were ones in the way. More than anything, Luo Binghe wanted to lay down. It was too much. He was slightly overwhelmed by all the different magics and strange lights and screens. The only thing that grounded him was his shizun holding on to his hand, and every now and then he would reach over and pat his arm. Every single touch was a blessing. 

If Shizun touched him so willingly and comfortingly now, maybe he wasn’t disgusted by Luo Binghe?

There was a slight whisper of hope in Luo Binghe’s chest. Maybe… maybe he had misunderstood at the Immortal Conference. 

The words his shizun had said – those replayed in his mind. The moment had replayed enough times in his nightmares, before he gained enough control over his dreams to banish them. What had he done wrong? 

His shizun said…

He said-

Before long, they stepped inside a building. All the bright lights and sounds muted into one tightly controlled space. A sigh of relief escaped Luo Binghe. With his free hand, he reached up to pull off the device and let his hood fall back. They stepped through another threshold, and someone greeted Shen Yuan. 

The two shared a polite conversation. Luo Binghe guessed the woman who supervised the entryway was some sort of guard. She asked about Shen Yuan’s health. 

With the expertise of someone being asked that same question thousands of times, Shen Yuan moved past it, and the conversation remained civil and distant. 

Not before long, Shen Yuan made his escape with Luo Binghe. The entry way of the building held lavish ornamentation, with a fountain and a seating area. On the far wall sat several pairs of closed doors, each with a button beside it. There, Shen Yuan pushed one of the buttons and turned to Luo Binghe. “This will open to… a room that can move.” 

“Move?” Luo Binghue asked, staring towards one of the doors that dinged. Moments later, the doors pulled open to reveal a crisp, vacant room. His eyes traced around it, trying to figure out how it could move. Would it be some sort of array? 

“Yes. It is extremely safe, but I don’t want to…” Shen Yuan was trying to form his words to not say, “scare you.” 

Luo Binghe smiled. “If this Binghe gets scared, he will just hold on to his Yuan-gege, hm?” 

His shizun’s skin colored brilliantly as his face fell into a well-practiced neutral expression. Did Shen Yuan blush this much normally? Luo Binghe examined his expression, looking for tells so he might be able to read it in his shizun’s other face. 

“Alright.” Shen Yuan stepped into the room with a click of his cane. He seemed to momentarily forget they were holding hands, and instead of freeing his hand from Luo Binghe’s, he hooked his cane on his arm again and pressed a code into the buttons on the wall. The doors slid into place, blocking them into the small room. 

Then it moved.

It was a strange sensation, making Luo Binghe’s stomach swoop. He wasn’t necessarily scared, but he squeezed Shen Yuan’s hand anyway. As he hoped, his shizun’s hand, the one that normally held the cane, rested on his arm and patted him in a reassuring manner. 

Why was Shizun being so nice, masquerading as someone else? 

If he had wanted to be rid of Luo Binghe, it would have been easy for him to act as if he didn’t know him. Luo Binghe would have left on his own accord, to figure out where that strange entity sent him. Instead Shen Yuan took responsibility for him, and was even being considerate and kind.

He had a burning urge to grab his shizun’s shoulders and shake him, and demand answers. Instead, he let this game continue to play.

When the doors opened, Shen Yuan took hold of his cane and guided them a few steps down the hall. Even in a different world, Luo Binghe recognized wealth when he saw it. The hallway was decorated with cold, sharp lines. Everything was painstakingly clean and well polished. Each step echoed around them. Large paintings ate up parts of the walls. Paintings that looked more like someone just spilled ink. 

Shen Yuan led him to the very end of the hall. There, an unassuming door sat. He pressed his little black box against some sort of pad on the wall, and the door unlocked. 

The two stepped into a sterile, clean space. Straight ahead of them, the far wall was made entirely of glass. Beyond, the city stretched endlessly into the horizon. There was a large sitting area, a dining table, and what could only be a kitchen. There were a few doors, one that looked like it led into some sort of bathroom, a strange room decorated with tons of colorful things, and a bedroom.

“Alright,” Shen Yuan looked around them. “I’ll…” His eyes fell to the strange room. All at once, he stiffened. Color flooded his face. “I need to deal… with something.” He stepped away from Luo Binghe, attempting a calm retreat towards the room. “Do not move!” he said, and dove into the room. The door clicked shut behind him. 

Luo Binghe probably would have listened to his shizun, before he threw him into the Abyss. He was obviously hiding something. 

With a smirk, Luo Binghe drew towards that closed door. He pressed his ear against it, not disrespectful enough to immediately barge in. After he made certain that the noises he heard on the other side wasn’t Shen Yuan undressing or anything else untoward, he eased the door open. 

A desk ate up an entire wall of the room, with multiple blackened glass hanging on stands. Against a window, a well-cushioned couch sat with tall bookshelves surrounding it and eating up most of the wall space. What shelves weren’t cramped full of books were stuffed full of small dolls and knickknacks. The wall space was covered with paintings. 

Luo Binghe stopped when he saw his own face reflected back at him. In some cases, the resemblance was a thin thread, with only his dark robes and demon sigil to tie the person in the painting to him. In other cases, it was startlingly accurate. 

A gasp escaped Shen Yuan. He was plucking a framed painting off the wall, and he nearly dropped it in his startlement. “Binghe!” he cried. 

Luo Binghe stood, stupefied. 

There was a replica of Xin Mo on the wall. 

One of the paintings showed Luo Binghe as a child, surrounded by Shen Qingqiu, Shu Hualing, and demons from the demon invasion. All were sneering. A strange sensation shifted through his stomach. It was almost like the realization that something had been watching him in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to jump out. 

“What is this?” Luo Binghe asked, his eyes jumping from painting to painting. There was a painting of Vanishing Stalk Lily Tiger, a very rare, dangerous, and beautiful foe. And there, one of him much older… on some type of throne? His eyes landed on one of the small dolls. Really, with their quality, they were more akin to miniature statues. He drew across the room to the shelves. 

There were versions of himself, versions of others within the Cang Qiong Sect — and a few dozen monsters and demons. A ton of them, in fact. The creatures took up more space than the people did.

“Binghe.”

Of course, there were other statues and things he did not know or recognize. Those were grouped differently than the ones from his own world. 

“Luo Binghe…?”

He stopped in front of another painting. This one showed a version of him facing off against the monsters of the Abyss. It… was the Abyss. In the painting, he was bloodied and feral, claws out with his fangs glinting in the low light. Why did his shizun have this? Each beat of his heart rang in his chest. “…is this why?” Luo Binghe asked. 

“Why…?” Shen Yuan asked him. 

“Is this why you shoved me into the Abyss?” 

Eyes widening, Shen Yuan fell back. At some point he had started trekking across the room, hand up as if to placate Luo Binghe. Now his skin was pale. Fear filled his eyes as he scrambled back, with the intent to escape through the door. 

Luo Binghe sighed. 

Then he shot across the room. He couldn’t afford Shen Yuan to leave him; not here in this world where it would be so terrifyingly easy to lose him. 

Shen Yuan did not make it far. 

It was a mirror of that night that started this all: Shen Qingqiu running through the streets of Jin Lang City. Except Shen Yuan barely escaped the room before Luo Binghe caught him. He kept his hold gentle, wrapped delicately around Shen Yuan’s wrist. He tugged him back inside the room, and let the door shut. “Shizun,” Luo Binghe murmured. 

Shen Yuan flinched. His back pressed up against the door, with Luo Binghe standing over him. His arms created almost a frame around Shen Yuan’s head. In this form, his shizun was startlingly small. He was so unlike the Immortal Peak Lord. He was brittle and fragile, and still so terrified of Luo Binghe. It hurt.

His heart was a tangled mess of thorns and shards of glass.

Frustration and pain boiled in Luo Binghe. Tears burned his eyes. He didn’t understand. Every single part of him wanted to grab on to Shen Yuan and scream and demand answers: why, why, why!? Without Xin Mo, it was easier to ignore the darker thoughts. His eyes fell shut, and he breathed in through his nose. Slowly, he sank to his knees and held Shen Yuan’s hand to his forehead. “Shizun, please,” he whispered. The tip of his nose burned, and his voice was thick and wet. 

“Binghe…?” Shen Yuan asked. After a few moments, his other hand settled atop Luo Binghe’s hair. 

“Why does Shizun think this disciple would…” Luo Binghe stopped, the words tightening in his throat. Why does Shizun think this disciple would hurt him? He already knew that answer. It’s because Luo Bighe already did. He had chased his shizun, slammed him into a wall, and forced him to consume his blood. Then he attacked that entity connected to Shizun. It was because of him they were here. Tears filled his throat and his head bowed. Guilt and self-loathing choked him. He let go of Shen Yuan. He was everything his shizun had hated. 

And he had the audacity to believe that he might someday earn to be beside his shizun again? 

When this is where his effort brought them?

A strange noise left Shen Yuan. 

Luo Binghe pulled back.

Blood spilled Shen Yuan – from his eyes, his nose, his mouth, everywhere. That small sound was agonized. 

“Shizun!?” Luo Binghe cried.

Power surged around them once again.

Everything turned dark. 

Chapter Text

There was nothing left to fight, and that was annoying. Liu Qingge preferred problems that he could physically cut down, not ones where he was left to sit and observe and be a nuisance. Frustrated, he ground his teeth. He stood in vigil over Shen Qingqiu’s body, glaring down at it as if by pure intimidation he might get his shixiong to wake up. He wasn’t even the one that found the two of them – that brat of a disciple and Shen Qingqiu. But he was the one to tear through a few Huan Hua disciples to stop them from stealing Shen Qingqiu, under the pretense that he harmed Luo Binghe. As if!! 

After rescuing Shen Qingqiu and bringing him back to the Jin Zi Weapons Shop, there was nothing left for him to do. Other than stand around like an ass and glare down at his shixiong. 

Mu Qingfang tolerated his presence. He floated around the space in a controlled frenzy, splitting his time between finding a cure for the sower’s bullshit and trying to figure out whatever bullshit happened to Shen Qingqiu. 

At this point, Liu Qingge was seriously considering tying some sort of leash around his shixiong to keep him out of trouble. His gut twisted uncomfortably as he remembered what he told his shixiong: Don’t be a nuisance. 

As it turned out, if Liu Qingge didn’t stay near, Shen Qingqiu would find ways to turn the world upside-down and get himself killed. 

In this case, he found his revived disciple, and created a qi explosion so big that it nearly toppled two buildings. Mu Qingfang assured him that it was not a qi deviation. 

Luo Binghe should be dead. Instead, that brat of a disciple, annoyingly, managed to catch more sower than Liu Qingge. Then after catching more sower, he had enough time to waltz through the city and somehow cause chaos with Shen Qingqiu.

Was he annoyed?

Obviously not. 

It’s fine that a disciple managed to capture more sowers and out-do him. 

It’s perfectly fine. 

It’s so totally fine that Liu Qingge wasn’t even thinking about it anymore. 

Not at all. 

Nope!

His not-thinking-about-losing was gravely interrupted by a scream. 

Everyone in the weapons shop paused to figure out where it was coming from. 

The scream was raw and unfiltered – the type of noise that Liu Qingge only ever heard once before. It was when he came across a half-consumed victim of some type of slow-devouring beast. The victim had no chance of living. They had nothing left inside of them but pain. Hearing that sound ripped straight through Liu Qingge’s heart, and sucker-punched all the air from his lungs. 

It was Shen Qingqiu. 

Shen Qingqiu was screaming. 

His shixiong was in utter and complete agony. 

Liu Qingge moved before he knew what he was doing. He caught Shen Qingqiu in his hands, and was holding his shoulders tight. The scream was awful. His shixiong didn’t make sounds like that. Nothing was allowed to even touch his shixiong. Not once had Shen Qingqiu even winced before. 

Awareness trickled into Shen Qingqiu. His mouth snapped shut, and his eyes peeled open. He stared up at Liu Qingge, swallowing the rest of the scream. It sank into a whimper, before cutting off into a wet gasp. His eyes glistened.

He was still in pain. 

He simply was holding it all back. 

He was holding it all back. How did someone learn to conceal that much pain? Why would someone hide it? How many times had Shen Qingqiu been hurt, and simply hid it? 

“Mu Qingfang!!!” Liu Qingge shouted. 

“I am here, I am here!” Mu Qingfang snapped. He snatched one of Shen Qingqiu’s wrists and checked his meridians. Confusion filled his eyes. 

That wasn’t okay. Mu Qingfang needed to fix this now. 

“Fix him!” Liu Qingge demanded. 

Mu Qingfang did not respond. The only sign he heard was the irritated twitch of an eyebrow. 

“B-B…” Shen Qingqiu tried to speak. 

Blood dribbled from his mouth. 

Liu Qingge wanted to punch something. Himself, maybe. Mu Qingfang more likely. 

Excruciating agony shined in Shen Qingqiu’s eyes, even as he tried to tamp it down. His entire body shuddered. Tears began to build in the corners of his eyes. He kept glancing slightly to the left, as if seeing something there. He was dying. He had to be dying. 

“Binghe!” Shen Qingqiu groaned through bloodied teeth. 

“What did that little beast do?!” Liu Qingge was one second away from tearing down a wall, or an entire building. He hated there was nothing he could do. 

A pained noise escaped from the back of Shen Qingqiu’s throat and he shook his head. He tried to speak again, the words broken and disorganized. “Need,” he said, more blood slipping from his mouth, “him. Here.” 

Mu Qingfang straightened. “A curse?”

Shen Qingqiu nodded. 

Before anyone else could even blink, Liu Qingge was gone. 

Fear was worse than anger. Anger was easy. It stoked warmth into his veins, it shielded him from pain, and it helped keep him alive. This — whatever this was — it was the worst thing Liu Qingge had ever felt. He hadn’t felt this useless, this weak, in years. He was surprised as he flew over the city to find tracks of liquid slipping down his cheeks. 

Many liked to think so, but he wasn’t stupid. He never said much, and acted decisively and often quickly, which led others to think him a dunce. He was not. The problem was he thought too much.

And right now he knew why his face was wet. For once he did not want to think. He wanted blinding rage to wipe his mind clean. He wanted the clarity of something to defeat and kill. Instead all he had was Shen Qingqiu’s scream echoing in his mind, replaying again and again. By the time he made it to the temporary housing of the Huan Hua Palace, he was shaking. Someone attempted to stop him, and he nearly cut them in half. He gave them a sharp glance, and they fell backwards two steps. 

“Luo Binghe.” It’s all he said. 

The cultivator didn’t answer. 

Jaw tight, Liu Qingge burst into the building. He stomped through the hallway, shoving back figures as they stepped out in his way. “Luo Binghe!” He raged. 

“You can’t just-“ someone protested. 

With a single flick of his wrist, they flew through a door with a loud crash. 

“Luo!” Liu Qingge shouted, accentuating it by kicking a door open, “Binghe!” 

“How dare you!” Someone snapped at him. 

Oh, Liu Qingge dared. He would tear this entire building down. He would beat up every single last person if they didn’t tell him where-

“Liu Qingge,” a dangerous voice called at the end of the hall. “Are you so familiar with this Binghe?”

Twisting around, Liu Qingge breathed out through his nose. He was still shaking. “What.” 

In a doorway, Luo Binghe adjusted his robes and finished tying his belt. His hair was a wild mane around his shoulders, frizzy and unbrushed. His eyes had a dazed, almost sleepy look to them. There were some other cultivators behind him. Healers? “Calling me ‘Binghe,’” the brat said with a bright, charming smile that held the barest hint of animosity. 

Liu Qingge gripped the hilt of his sword until his fingers creaked. He must have only heard the end of his last shout, or he was aggravating Liu Qingge on purpose. With that stupid ass smile, there was no question that it was the latter. He ignored him, and drew a few steps to him. “He needs you.” 

The smile on Luo Binghe’s face dimmed. “Where?”

He didn’t have to ask who. They both knew who. 

Good. 

Liu Qingge raced to Luo Binghe. 

Other cultivators cried out, reaching for their swords. 

There was no reaction from Luo Binghe. He didn’t even flinch, the smile on his face disappearing into something wretched and pained. Liu Qingge caught his arm, and hauled him outside. He didn’t think. Cheng Luan was under his feet, and his arm was tight around Luo Binghe, and they flew. 

“What happened?” Luo Binghe demanded as soon as they were in the air. 

The wind roared, and Liu Qingge wished he would stop shaking because there was no way that the brat couldn’t feel it. He hated fear. His teeth chattered. 

“Liu Qingge,” Luo Binghe demanded. 

It wasn’t until hands tightened around his hips that Liu Qingge became very aware of their proximity and how had essentially manhandled the little brat onto a sword, and hadn’t even paused to consider that Luo Binghe could fly on his own. It was too late. “Let go,” Liu Qingge demanded. 

“Shishu,” Luo Binghe pleaded. 

At the sudden use of the title, Liu Qingge glanced over his shoulder. 

Was… Luo Binghe pouting?

Shameless! 

Ignoring him, Liu Qingge turned forward and sped. He was silent for the rest of the trip, even as Luo Binghe pleaded, and demanded, and squeezed. Disrespectful!!! There was no point. He would find out soon enough, and it’s not like Liu Qingge understood more than just…

The scream. 

His teeth stopped chattering at some point — possibly because the beast was annoying. They reached the weapons shop, and Liu Qingge dragged Luo Binghe down into the basement, heart ramming in his throat. To his surprise, Luo Binghe did not immediately rip free from his hold to sprint to Shen Qingqiu’s side. He lingered, expression diplomatic. 

Years ago, he would have flown to his shizun’s side, rather possessively and irritatingly. What happened? It wasn’t as if Luo Binghe had matured and aged out of such actions. Liu Qingge recognized the restraint tightening his muscles, his fingers curling ever so slightly. 

“Ahh… that is better,” Mu Qingfang said with a relieved sigh. He had his fingers on his shixiong’s wrist.

Yue Qingyuan sat on the other side of the bed, face tight and pale with worry. He only barely opened his eyes, fingers pressed to the meridian near Shen Qingqiu’s heart. 

“Closer, Luo Binghe,” Mu Qingfang demanded. 

Jerked into motion, Luo Binghe peeled away and drifted across the room. “What happened?” His eyes snapped to a dozen different places: the blood splattered over Shen Qingqiu’s robes, the bruising underneath his eyes, his trembling hands, the sweat that made his hair cling to his face. Not once had Shen Qingqiu ever appeared this disorderly. 

“It appears as if there is… some type of curse,” Mu Qingfang started. “Connected to you.” His eyes shifted to Luo Binghe and he raised a single eyebrow in question. 

Liu Qingge curled and uncurled his fingers. 

“What happened?” Yue Qingyuan asked, voice cold and level. 

“Nothing,” Shen Qingqiu croaked. His voice startled them all. 

As if tugged on a thread, Liu Qingge drew close. He rounded the bed, stalking like some sort of predator, uncertain and anxious. Quiet yearnings whispered in the back of his mind, ones that he would not listen to. 

They wanted him to push Yue Qingyuan aside and take Shen Qingqiu into his-

No. 

He never allowed himself to even think about it. 

Disrespectful, he chided himself. 

Not for the first time, Liu Qingge hated that he went on that mission with Shen Qingqiu – the one Madam Meiyin. It was that mission that made him realize what the warmth in his chest meant. Before it had been fine. Before he could hold Shen Qingqiu’s elegant wrist and flush his meridians, basking in the warmth in complete ignorance. 

Now he knew what that feeling was. 

And it made it worse. 

“Nothing,” Shen Qingqiu said again, clearing his throat. He tried to pull himself together, wiping wrinkles from his blankets and straightening his robes. “We were taking a walk. There was much to catch up on.” 

Everyone looked at Luo Binghe to confirm. There was a strange look in the disciple's eyes. Then he seemed to make a decision. Tears spilled down his cheeks. His lips trembled as he let out a weakened whimper. “It’s this disciple’s fault.” 

“Oh, Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu murmured, warmth spilling into his voice. His hand reached out to him, shaking. 

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe choked. He stumbled towards him and collapsed down beside the bed, torso draped over his shizun’s legs. 

Liu Qingge grit his teeth and hissed a quiet, “Disrespectful!” 

The truth was he was jealous. He wanted that. He wanted to shove aside the others, and sink into the arms of-

No. 

“Explain!” Liu Qingge demanded instead. 

Hesitation sank over Shen Qingqiu’s face. He was hiding something. “It is not Luo Binghe’s fault,” he said, resolutely. “There…” His voice died off and his eyes flickered slightly to the left. Eyebrows pinching, he frowned. 

“This disciple found a-“ Luo Binghe started. 

Shen Qingqiu’s hackles raised. “It’s fine! Binghe! It wasn’t your fault!” Before the disciple could explain further, Shen Qingqiu rushed to add, “It appears to be a temporary curse that binds this master to Luo Binghe. It will resolve itself shortly.” His fingers twitched, as if reaching for a fan. “This master must simply trouble Luo Binghe with… staying nearby until further notice.” 

Something curious flashed over Luo Binghe’s expression. He reached out to catch one of his shizun’s hands and leaned forward. His eyes searched his shizun’s face, resolute and reverential. “This disciple will stay at Shizun’s side.” 

Shocked, Shen Qingqiu stared at his disciple. His free hand jerked again. After a few moments, his face smoothed out. “This master is grateful.” 

There was some tension there. 

Liu Qingge’s eyes narrowed on the two of them. He was at a loss on what he was missing. Something happened between the two of them. That much was obvious. Whatever it was, whatever happened, Liu Qingge would figure it out. 

Something, someone, had to answer for it.

And he would figure out who.

Chapter Text

It was a really bad day for Shen Qingqiu. His muscles quivered from the memory of the pain, and everyone in the room kept staring at him as if he were a fragile piece of art teetering on the edge of a pedestal. He wanted to be alone. He wanted a bath. He wanted to close the door to his bamboo house and possibly scream for an hour or two.

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck-

Out of the corner of his eye, he kept eying Luo Binghe. His disciple’s face kept falling, eyes turning dark, whenever he thought no one was looking. That did not bode well for Shen Qingqiu!! He wondered what Luo Binghe’s angle was. Why did he stick around? Why did he pretend to be doting and afraid for him? He even was (mostly) respectful to the other peak lords in the room. 

Luo Binghe allowed Mu Qingfang to experiment without complaint, holding out his wrist as Mu Qingfang compared his meridians to Shen Qingqiu’s. There were a few more tentative explorations, one of which being: how far could Luo Binghe be away from Shen Qingqiu before he started to feel pain?

That experiment came to a rather quick and decisive end when everyone realized that Shen Qingqiu wasn’t saying when he started to feel pain, and instead only admitted anything when he could not bear it any longer. 

After getting an earful of Mu Qingfang’s lecture, they all had decided that this mess can be revisited after finishing business in Jin Lan City. The others left to go deal with the sowers and begin the process of divvying out the cure. There were a few others left in the basement, yet none seemed overly eager for conversation, which Shen Qingqiu appreciated immensely. 

The System had yet to spout anything but absolute garbage. Every now and then a sharp ear-piercing noise would crackle through his brain and leave him silently gasping and holding back a whimper. 

[ERROR: uPda%T(01101110    G]

There was some sort of progress bar, and it jumped between 85% back down to 0.0005% in the span of seconds. Earlier that day, Shen Qingqiu had watched it sluggishly grow from 24% up to 98% and he had hoped that by the time the afternoon hit, that he would be able to jump up in a flourish of his robes and escape.

He had no such luck.

He leaned back against the headboard, hands folded in his lap, as he tried to recount the last twenty-four hours. 

Had he imagined waking up as Shen Yuan?

Ah! He wished he had his fan. It was too embarrassing to ask Luo Binghe, especially with so many others in the room. How would he even go about it?

Do you remember meeting a slightly ugly man who was probably just a few months away from dying?

Did you accidentally kiss him on a train ride?

Do you remember a room that had a rather expansive collection of your face?

There’s no way he could do that!!

“Is Shizun hungry?” Luo Binghe asked.

Someone who was thrown into a modern world ought to have more questions. Luo Binghe did not. He had a pleasant, warm expression plastered on his face whenever Shen Qingqiu’s eyes fell on him. 

“No,” Shen Qingqiu told him. He hated being bedridden. Despite the exhaustion that sank into his body, he wanted the freedom of his own two feet. It was too soon since he had that strange maybe-dream as Shen Yuan. The hospital was too fresh in his mind.

Luo Binghe frowned. Well, really, it was a pout. 

“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu admonished, unable to help himself. “This master needs you most by his side.” His eyes flickered to the System, reading the broken dialogue box, so he missed the way his disciple's cheeks dusted red. 

“Shizun has not eaten since the previous evening,” Luo Binghe pressed.

“And how will Binghe solve that?” Shen Qingqiu asked.

“This disciple will make food for his shizun,” Luo Binghe said, his voice growing warbly and wet.

Shen Qingqiu wondered how much of it was an act. Common sense screamed for him not to fall for it. Despite every ounce of self-preservation he had, his heart crumbled. “Binghe,” he murmured and lifted a shaking hand to his disciple’s head. His coordination was lacking, but he still managed to pat his hair.

Luo Binghe’s eyes fluttered shut and he pressed into the touch. His lower lip trembled. What an incredible performance!! 

Hello?? Protagonist?? Who is this for? No one else is here to pay attention!

“This master is bedbound, and needs his disciple to stay near,” Shen Qingqiu said. “What would Binghe do? Carry this master to the kitchens?” He meant it as a joke.

Though Luo Binghe seemed to take it as a challenge. He sat up with determination shining in his eyes.

The door to the Jin Zi Weapons Shop burst open and footsteps pounded down the stairs, saving Shen Qingqiu from whatever Luo Binghe was about to say or do. His disciple jumped to his feet. He kept his body loose and casual, but Shen Qingqiu recognized the energy coiling in him: he was ready to fight whoever reached the landing. 

It was Liu Qingge. 

There was the slightest flush from exertion and anger on his skin. It made his dark eyes shine. Shen Qingqiu was caught, not for the first time, by Liu Qingge’s beauty. Even with his hair and clothes slightly mussed by a quick flight, he was fiercely handsome. “Get up,” he demanded. “We’re leaving.” 

“Excuse me?” Shen Qingqiu blinked.

Liu Qingge raced across the room and started snatching things and stuffing them into his qiankun pouch. 

“What happened?” Luo Binghe asked. He rolled back and forth his feet, as if itching to start a fight. 

Not down here, please! 

At least wait until there would be no other bystanders to get caught in the crossblows! 

“They blamed him,” Liu Qingge said, breathless. He threw a sharp glance at Shen Qingqiu and threw a robe at him. “What are you doing? Get dressed.” 

“Blamed me?” Shen Qingiu asked, startled. He started to untangle himself from the blankets. His joints screeched in protest as he wrangled on the robe. Dizziness washed around him, and his legs buckled. Hands caught him before he could collapse. 

Luo Binghe was right there, with such convincing worry on his face. Really!! This acting was top notch! 

“Disrespectful,” Liu Qingge grumbled. 

After securing the robe, Shen Qingqiu collapsed back onto the bed. His weakened state did nothing for his thin face, and again he wished for a fan. 

“Well?” Luo Binghe demanded.

“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu said, more weakly than he meant to. “Be respectful to your shishu.” 

“The sowers called you out by name,” Liu Qingge said with a deep frown. “The Old Palace Master is demanding justice. And some woman started…” His fury made his ears pink. “She said you…” 

Shen Qingqiu stared up at him blankly. 

“Get up!” Liu Qingge spat. “We leave now.” 

This must be the beginning of the campaign that would slander his name. Shen Qingqiu felt a distant sort of resolve settle over him. Was this what Luo Binghe waited for? It only made sense. The protagonist would only finish exacting his revenge after fully dismantling every single thing that the Original Goods had fought for. “What of the Sect Leader?” 

A frustrated growl grit through Liu Qingge’s teeth. To both Luo Binghe’s and Shen Qingqiu’s amazement, he turned to Luo Binghe and asked, “You want him safe?” 

“Yes!” Luo Binghe said, spine straightening in a snap.

Wait. What?

“Then grab him. We leave. Now.” Liu Qingge turned towards the stairs. 

“What!?” Shen Qingqiu nearly squawked. 

There was half a second delay before Luo Binghe gathered Shen Qingqiu in his arms.

WHAT!?!?

Excuse me?? Protagonist! I am not one of your maidens!

His heart had a strange reaction, leaping into his throat and practically singing. Luo Binghe was so much taller now. The broad planes of his chest cushioned Shen Qingqiu. He felt as if he weighed no more than a hissing kitten in his disciple's arms. When did he get so strong?! The heft of his biceps was no joke! Ah! 

“You don’t think we can stop him?” Luo Binghe asked. 

“Luo Binghe!” Shen Qingqiu cried. “Set me down this instant!” He absolutely did not have a thick enough face for this!! He was being cradled in another man’s arms!

The protagonist’s arms!

Anyone would find themselves a bit breathless and embarrassed by such attention!!!

Both Liu Qingge and Luo Binghe expertly ignored his protests and continued their conversation. 

“No,” Liu Qingge frowned. 

Despite the vague answer, Luo Binghe was able to collect enough of the clues. “He gained too much traction with the sowers and whatever that woman said,” he said, thoughtfully aloud. That’s the protagonist for you! “And with what happened last night... The Huan Hua disciples were convinced that Shizun tried to harm me. Then you came in and dragged me away. I bet they’re spinning a tale that you wrongfully captured me. We need to get Shizun out of here, and let tempers calm down. The Old Palace Master has too much influence here.” He frowned and sighed heavily. “Shizun, this lowly disciple has caused you too much trouble…” 

“Binghe, that’s nonsense,” Shen Qingqiu said with a frown. “None of this is any fault of yours.” Wait. Or was it? The protagonist was a master manipulator. A few well-placed rumors and truths is what brought down the Original Goods. Except that Shen Qingqiu was confused. If this was all a part of Luo Binghe’s plans, then why whisk him away from it all? Why not allow him to fall? Why carry him? Right. He was being carried. Heat scorched his cheeks, and Shen Qingqiu snapped, “This is nonsense. Let me go. I can stand!” He continued to protest, even as both Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge reached the outdoors and threw down their swords.

Neither listened.

There was one good thing to come out of this mortifying situation: the System seemed to have slightly less errors in its dialogue box. That meant that the closer he was to the protagonist, the more likely the System would be able to repair itself.

But... how much closer would Luo Binghe have to get to fix it!?

Shen Qingqiu was already in his arms!!

Despite his continued protests, both Liu Qingge and Luo Bingghe took off. Together, the three of them left Jin Lan City behind.

Chapter Text

Somehow, Liu Qingge ended up here: sitting in the bamboo house kitchen with Shen Qingqiu leaning against him. He tried not to get distracted by the heat of his body or the fluttering in his own heart. No matter how long he thought about it, he had no idea why he was there. Well, he knew he was stand-in support for Shen Qingqiu who lacked the strength to even sit on his own (even though he had pestered them the entire flight that he could stand). 

There probably were other options than using Liu Qingge to make sure that the thin-faced peak lord did not fall over. 

No one suggested one. 

Not too long ago, the three of them had arrived back at Qing Jing Peak. Without any further discussion, they went into the bamboo house.

 (Had Shen Qingqiu stopped complaining at this point? No. He had not. His voiced complaints grew louder upon arriving at the peak. He was probably too thin-faced to let his disciples catch sight of him like this…)

 Luo Binghe had brought his shizun to the kitchen and set him down, and as soon as he started to teeter, Liu Qingge was there. The most that came out of it was a slight fire in Luo Binghe’s eyes — a warning. Nothing else. Not even a disgruntled huff from Shen Qingqiu. 

Not a lot of people touched Liu Qingge. Sometimes there were battles, and other times there were reasons to visit Qian Cao Peak. There were few people in his life that had ever dared to reach out and touch him: his sister for one and on a rare occasion, Shen Qingqiu. To say he was mildly aware of his shixiong would be a bit of an understatement. He felt every small shift of movement in the man beside him. There were many layers of silk between them, and still Shen Qingqiu’s heat sank into his body and settled deep into the recesses of his heart. 

Liu Qingge did not know why he followed them into the house. He should have delivered them and left.

Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t even needed to fly all the way back to the fucking sect! He could have just convinced the two to leave, and headed back.

There was probably something to attend to on his own peak. Hell, he should coordinate with the Sect Leader and the other peak lords about whatever bullshit was happening in Jin Lan City. The others didn’t even know what Liu Qingge had planned. The most anyone knew was that Liu Qingge had looked Yue Qingyuan in the eye and they shared a look. In the background, the Old Palace Master passionately cried out his declamation. The old man had demanded Shen Qingqiu be brought to them to face “justice” and he self-righteously begged for the freedom of his “prized disciple.” 

Somewhere in the middle of that speech, Liu Qingge had left.

Now he was here, listening to the quiet sounds of dishes clinking and the gentle click of flames. Luo Binghe’s chopping was precise and consistent, and lulled Liu Qingge to a place of comfort. The stress of the entire evening crashed on him all at once, and he became achingly aware of how little rest he had actually given himself these past few days. His eyelids grew heavy.

Fuck.

He would not fall asleep here. 

Liu Qingge glanced at Shen Qingqiu. The man was in a meditative state, eyebrows slightly furrowed. He would need a bath, his hair brushed, and a new change of robes. Not that he could do any of those on his own. Heat rushed to Liu Qingge’s cheeks as his brain helpfully began to supply him with images on how he might help. He hissed under his breath, “Disrespectful.”

Awareness filled Shen Qingqiu’s eyes and he glanced over at Liu Qingge. “What was that, Liu-shidi?” 

Embarrassed with himself, Liu Qingge cleared his throat. “Make it bland,” he said, louder. 

Luo Binghe paused at the order and he threw a frustrated look over his shoulder. It was one thing to allow Liu Qingge into his kitchens, and an entirely other thing to let the peak lord order him around. Disrespectful brat! Liu Qingge was his shishu! At the very least, as the brat’s senior, he was owed some respect!

Instead of sneering or glowering, Luo Binghe flicked one glance to his shizun. Just like that, his scowl relaxed. He understood. It was… odd being understood so well. Liu Qingge did not have to painfully outline all of his thoughts. It always confounded him when people didn't make the same leaps in logic that he did. 

The same thing had happened when Liu Qingge first went to the two of them, and said that they needed to get Shen Qingqiu out of there. There weren't a thousand annoying questions trying to connect the dots – Luo Binghe had done that on his own.

Right now, both of them were on the same page: Shen Qingqiu was in pain and weak. He did not have the constitution or appetite for a grand meal.

Frustration tightened Luo Binghe’s jaw for a single second. Then he looked Liu Qingge in the eye, and gave a bare nod. “This disciple will not insult his shizun with bland food,” he grumbled. 

Even with the grumbling, Liu Qingge read between the lines: the food would be mild enough not to upset his shixiong’s tender stomach. 

As if summoned by his disciple's discontent, Shen Qingqiu blinked awake and soothed, “Any food Binghe makes will be exceptional.”

Liu Qingge could not withhold a snort. 

With a thoughtful hum, Shen Qingqiu continued, “Liu-shidi has not had a meal prepared by Binghe.” He raised a shaking hand to tap his lower lip in a pondering manner. “Binghe, are you making enough for your shishu?”

“…” Luo Binghe had a stormy expression. 

“I do not need any food,” Liu Qingge said, stiffly. He should leave after ensuring Shen Qingqiu was taken care of. He should…

He did not want to. 

There was nothing he could do if Shen Qingqiu started falling to the whims of the curse. He had no useful medical knowledge. No knowledge of curses. If it were something he could face with a sword, that would be an entirely different matter. But in this, he was utterly useless. He hated it.

“Nonsense.” Shen Qingqiu waved his hand in place of a fan. “You should have some of Binghe’s food. It’s truly exceptional.” 

Luo Binghe looked as if he struggled between a pout and preening underneath the praise. 

“Unnecessary,” Liu Qingge argued. 

A hand took his, and Shen Qingqiu looked him in the eye. All at once, he seemed to realize what he did. His ears colored with a blush, and he quickly let go. 

Liu Qingge couldn’t hear past the beating of his heart. 

“Does Liu-shidi have matters to attend to?” Shen Qingqiu asked, voice strained. There was a quiet hue of desperation in his eye, as if he did not want to be alone. That… didn’t make sense. 

Mouth dry, Liu Qingge did not answer. He could not answer. Nothing was as important as making sure Shen Qingqiu was okay, even if there was nothing he could do. He should leave. He should go. He should-

“Liu-shishu should stay so we know more about what happened with the Old Palace Master and the sowers,” Luo Binghe said. He sounded like he was sulking. 

Startled, Liu Qingge sat in befuddled silence. He should stay? 

“So, that settles that.” Shen Qingqiu had a pleased smile.

It did? 

He supposed explaining more would not hurt; though, the thought of straightening out his thoughts and attempting to give a verbal report on that bullshit sounded just as fun as pulling off his nails. He stewed in silence, and he tried not to think of the way Shen Qingqiu’s head rested against his shoulder.

If he gave away that he noticed, it would ruin the moment and his shixiong would move.

Liu Qingge did not want him to move.

His heart was in his throat, and the palms of his hands started to sweat. Then a thought occurred to him. Sitting up straight, Liu Qingge said, “How about the curse?” Beside him, Shen Qingqiu tensed.

Luo Binghe froze. 

Silence stretched. 

The two of them absolutely were hiding something. Liu Qingge was not conversationally adept enough to figure out what. His fingers curled. Just as he was about to demand them to explain what the hell happened, Shen Qingqiu spoke, “We will discuss such matters after the meal. For now let’s hear what happened with the sowers and the Old Palace Master.” 

There was no room for argument.

Besides, Shen Qingqiu let his head fall back again. The weight of it felt so grounding against his shoulder.

Throat tight, Liu Qingge recounted the day’s earlier events.

Then came the stupid and annoying questions.

Well. 

Shit. 

The food was good. Liu Qingge had never really paid too much attention to food before. It either kept him energized or it didn’t. He never was one to crave or allow himself to crave. This might ruin that. Inwardly, he scorned himself. He could not allow this meal to ruin his self control. He could not begin to want it. 

Wanting something he couldn’t have, something he never knew he wanted to have, was too much. 

There was already one thing, one person he couldn’t have.

He had never known he wanted it, until it was too late.

Until it consumed him.

His want for Shen-

It took him too long to realize two pairs of eyes were staring at him. Liu Qingge startled, and glanced between a gently pleased smile and a smug one. The three of them sat around a table, with Shen Qingqiu now sitting at Luo Binghe’s side, pressed ever so slightly against him. Two different feelings varied within Liu Qingge at the sight: relief that he no longer had to stifle a blush whenever he felt movement and the sharp bite of jealousy. 

“Well?” Luo Binghe asked, knowing full well the answer to his own question. “Does this meal please Shishu?” 

Liu Qingge’s eyes narrowed. 

“You seem to enjoy it,” Shen Qingqiu said, voice smooth and elegant. “You smiled.”

“What.” Liu Qingge straightened, and felt color rise to his cheeks. There is no way he smiled at Luo Binghe’s cooking. Absolutely not! He refused to believe it. 

Luo Binghe’s face grew even more self-congratulatory. “Here you go, Liu-shishu, you seem to really enjoy this.” Their meal was congee with very light toppings. Luo Binghe had cooked more additives for himself and Liu Qingge, without a doubt just to show off. He plucked a few things to add to Liu Qingge’s dish, and fuck. 

It was exactly what made Liu Qingge’s body melt as soon as it hit his tongue. He scowled. It was… discomforting that Luo Binghe had read him so well. 

The annoying brat fluttered his lashes at Liu Qingge and stole a bitter vegetable from his bowl. “Liu-shishu seems to dislike this one.” He popped it into his mouth, sensually slow.

Blush deepening, Liu Qingge glowered. 

What. 

What. 

“Luo Binghe!” Shen Qingqiu admonished, scandalized. 

An innocent expression flooded Luo Binghe’s face and he turned his fluttering lashes at his shizun. Shameless!!! “What, Shizun?” Luo Binghe asked, the perfect picture of innocence. “This disciple didn’t want Liu-shishu’s dish to be ruined by something he did not like.” 

Shen Qingqiu lifted his chopsticks as if he might smack his disciple with them, and decided at the last moment not to. He was missing his fan. 

Neither Liu Qingge nor Luo Binghe had fetched one for him — probably for the same reason. With the persistent fluttering weakness of Shen Qingqiu’s body, he kept dropping things. Even his handling of the chopsticks was a bit rough. The rest of the meal continued on without too much fuss. Despite Shen Qingqiu’s praise of the food, he only picked at his own bowl. Clearly, the pain had stolen too much of his appetite. 

Every now and then, a dark look settled over Luo Binghe’s face. Liu Qinge recognized it as guilt. 

When everything was finished, Luo Binghe started to gather the dishes. Liu Qingge considered him for a moment, and then said, “Stop.”

The disciple stilled and cut a glance at him.  

“Let me.” Liu Qingge took the dishes from him. 

Shock relaxed Luo Binghe’s expression. 

As an answer to the unasked question, Liu Qingge threw a pointed look at Shen Qingqiu. If Luo Binghe left to take care of the dishes, he would have to drag the weakened peak lord behind him. It was easier if Liu Qingge did it. He gathered the rest of the dishes without a word, and went into the kitchen to deal with them. He traveled on his own often enough to know how to clean up after meals. It wasn’t a big deal. He didn’t understand why both of them were looking at him that way. (No, he wasn’t retreating into the kitchen to hide from them!) 

As he scrubbed the dishes clean, his thoughts ran. Always, always, they ran. Fighting was easy, and it cleared his head. Meditating was nice, too. He could stamp away all of his thoughts, and sink into a state where there was nothing but blissful silence. 

It was all the in-between of all of that.

Thoughts, so many thoughts. All of them returned to that scream. His shixiong’s scream. 

There was nothing Liu Qingge could do. Nothing he could even do right now. He was useless.

Useless-

One of the bowls broke.

Teeth clenched, he dropped both of the halves and gripped tightly onto the side of the basin. 

He hated this. 

He hated that something managed to harm Shen Qingqiu, and Liu Qingge had let it. 

Now his shixiong was tied to his un-dead disciple, weakened and falling apart.

(Wasn’t Without a Cure enough?) 

His eyes shut. The night replayed itself all over again – finding his shixiong covered in blood in the hands of another sect. Taking him back to Mu Qingfang, begging him to figure out what was wrong. An entire night of waiting, and waiting, and waiting. Then the scream. That fucking scream. 

Shit. 

He was shaking again.

“Liu Qingge?” 

Startled, Liu Qingge jerked away from the basin. He glanced up and spotted Luo Binghe in the doorway. The brief experimentation earlier with Mu Qingfang told them that there was a decent range that Luo Binghe could walk from his shizun. Not far enough to really leave the building – but enough that Luo Binghe might be able to stand in another room for a short time. Most of the experiment was inconclusive because, like a fucking idiot, Shen Qingqiu hadn’t vocalized when he was in pain. 

Luo Binghe’s eyes dropped, and he stared at Liu Qingge’s hands. 

It was then that he realized he was bleeding. The broken dish had cut into his palm. Huh. He turned and plucked the two halves of the broken bowl out of the water. There was no need to explain himself. He would simply wait for Luo Binghe to voice what he wanted. 

He did not. 

The disciple simply stood there and watched as Liu Qingge finished cleaning up. 

His expression was dark. 

Guilt, again.

Something strange was happening to Luo Binghe. There was a pull of energy that started to sputter and waft around him. The energy was dark. It almost seemed like…

“What happened?” Liu Qingge demanded. Whatever happened last night, it made the disciple feel like he was at fault. And it was causing his qi to become unbalanced. Fuck. Liu Qingge was not the person to help him. Where the fuck was Shen Qingqiu?

Again, Luo Binghe did not need any clarification. He knew where the question had come from. The silence simmered. Then he raised his eyes. They almost glimmered red. “It was my fault.” 

Liu Qingge turned to him, hands clenched at his sides. He waited. 

The look on the disciple’s face darkened. “Did you not hear me? It’s my fault. I did it.” 

“What are you saying?” Liu Qingge demanded. His shixiong adored this brat of a disciple. Even if he would never say it aloud, the past few years were more than enough proof. It pissed Liu Qingge off that it was yet another thing he could not fix. He wanted to be angry, to rage that Luo Binghe had stayed away and joined another sect when his shizun was grieving his loss.

But he did not know all the facts.

Something happened. Unfortunately, he knew his shixiong. He knew that if Luo Binghe had done something wrong, that his shixiong would protect him. Even if it meant hurting himself.

And on the flip side of that stupid fucking coin, he knew that Luo Binghe always took every single minor mistake and thought it a catastrophe. There was one time he was in the room when the disciple had accidentally spilled some ink on some calligraphy. 

He had seen the way Luo Binghe’s body tightened, the fear that coiled around his muscles. It was the fear that this would be it – the moment that finally let Shen Qingqiu see what an utter mistake it was to trust and take Luo Binghe into his care.

At the time, Liu Qingge did nothing. There was nothing he could do.

Besides, it wasn’t Liu Qingge’s comfort that the disciple had needed. What he needed was Shen Qingqiu’s soothing voice and open arms and assurances. Luo Binghe always punished himself severely, as if it were something he deserved.

The question was: did he deserve it now?

Luo Binghe stared at him, all play-acting friendliness gone. That awful energy was whipping around him. “Are you really this stupid?”

What?

It was a different person standing in front of him. Not the doting disciple that adored his shizun.

 “Do you need me to spell it out for you? I did it.” Luo Binghe’s lips quirked, harsh and cruel. “I am the reason he is cursed. He was running from me, and crying out for you. But you weren’t there. You were too slow, trying to catch that last sower. Weren’t you?” He raised an eyebrow.

Breath quickening, Liu Qingge curled his hands into fists. “You-!”

This did not make sense.

Don’t listen, he’s doing this on purpose, he’s riling you up-

“And while you were floundering around, Shizun was calling for you. Where were you, when I tracked him down? Where were you, when I slammed him into the wall? Where were you, when he bled-”

One second, Luo Binghe was in the doorway. The next he was flying across the room and slamming into the table. It cracked. Liu Qingge drew Chen Luan. The sword sang as it flew through the air, igniting the adrenaline in his veins.

Finally, finally, Liu Qingge had something he could actually fucking do.

Rage silenced every last thought in his mind. He had one clear goal:

Fight.

Chapter Text

Luo Binghe was many things. An orphan. A disciple. A Heavenly Demon. He was wanting, greedy, and stubborn. Someone had once called him kind. He was hard working, determined, and never knew when to give up. Someone else had once called him optimistic. 

But the one thing that Luo Binghe was not, the one thing he could never be, was enough.

The second Luo Binghe’s eyes cracked open that morning, he knew something was off. Healers surrounded him with their fingers on his meridians. Tiny pulses of spiritual qi flooded into him and grated his insides. To his horror, he heard the quiet confused mumble of, “Demonic…” 

Then there was Liu Qingge.

Brilliant, beautiful, and the picture of wrath, demanding for him. 

Luo Binghe was still trying to piece his mind together. One instance he was in a completely new world, and now he was here again. His cultivation should feel like a relief. Something was wrong.

Something was wrong. 

His shishu had been shaking. Shaking. The War God of Bai Zhan Peak, the fierce unbeatable warrior, the man who taught demons fear, was shaking. 

Teasing his shishu was always fun. More fun now that Luo Binghe had fewer reservations than he did when he was younger. (So what if it had the added benefit of distracting his shishu?) The two of them had always played this delicate line between open jealous-hostility and impeccable politeness. That hadn’t changed. 

It was comforting. 

Even if the two had never been on good terms, at least his shishu had never been afraid of him. Besides, Liu Qingge saw Luo Binghe. 

Not all of you, a dark voice reminded Luo Binghe. Never all of you. That is why he hasn’t cast you out.

Something… was wrong.

The morning passed in a strange haze, with Luo Binghe fighting to keep his thoughts in order. He felt as if his body were nothing but a puppet, and he was desperately fighting to find the right strings to execute a convincing act. He was losing control. 

As soon as his shizun’s arms were around him, clarity hit him like a pail of water clearing away a stain. 

It was familiar. He smelled of blood and strange medicinal herbs, but underneath was bamboo and Shizun and it was home. 

Home. He was home.

It’s not your home anymore.

“It is not Luo Binghe’s fault.”

But it is, isn’t it? 

The only reason Shizun was allowing Luo Binghe this close was because it would kill him otherwise. Luo Binghe had done that. He hurt his shizun. Right now, his bloodmites worked in a frenzy, attempting to repair what the “curse” had done. There was too much. His meridians were in complete disarray. 

That was Luo Binghe’s fault.

All the blood, the pain that his shizun went through, was his fault. 

Why did he run? Why is he covering for me right now? Why…? Why? 

Maybe it was for self-preservation. Shen Qingqiu played nice now, doted on him and patted his head, and let him pretend. The moment all of this was fixed, his shizun would run again. He would leave. 

Because Luo Binghe wasn’t enough.

No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he fought, no matter how much he trained, in the end it wasn’t enough. 

He had earned the good grace of his shizun, and somewhere along the way he had ruined that. 

Demon. Beast. Liar. Insatiable. A disappointment. 

Except… 

The other world. Shen Yuan. 

Where did that all fit into all of this? 

Was that… not real? 

The moment of clarity that Luo Binghe had in his shizun’s arms disappeared into a confusing haze. 

All Luo Binghe wanted was to go home. He wanted to be by his shizun’s side. He wanted to be good enough. He wanted to prove to himself and to Shen Qingqiu that he was worthy of standing by him. 

He wasn’t. 

When it came down to it, he was selfish, greedy, and he wasn’t enough. 

(Something was wrong.)

Blood roaring, Luo Binghe flipped back and narrowly avoided Cheng Luan. The sword was a blur, cutting through the air with a hiss. It was beautiful. The pure fury on Liu Qingge’s face was a sight to behold. He could admire his shishu in this: the way he became a figure of perfect violence. He was fast. From the kitchen to the doorway, he moved with rapid precision.  In half a heart beat, he was there leaping across the broken table to slam a foot into Luo Binghe’s chest.

His ribs creaked. Air swept from his lungs. Luo Binghe flew backwards to slam against the wall. Eyes fluttering shut, he drew in a shallow breath and eased through the electric discomfort in his chest. 

It brought some pieces of clarity.

There was a knot of gore where his heart should be. It was a violent tangle of betrayal, self-loathing, and confusion. His meridians burned. Scorching heat flashed through his body like a fever. He felt the imbalance. It felt as if one part of himself was trying to consume the other. 

Something was wrong.

Xin Mo. 

The sword pounded in his head. It raved in excitement and screeched to be drawn. Blood. Bones. Break. Bleed. Cut. Slice. Win. Rage. Death. Pain. More. Now. NOW.  It was usually easier to ignore its rantings. 

Not now. Every single want burned like a need in Luo Binghe. He felt the desire to draw the sword and let it sink its teeth into Liu Qingge. His arms ached to feel the clash of their swords. It would be a beautiful fight. One that would run his body ragged.

Break.

Bleed. 

HURT.

Luo Binghe shot to his feet and launched across the room in an animalistic fury. His shoulder slammed into Liu Qingge’s chest, and both of them collapsed to the ground. He caught one of Liu Qingge’s arms in a tight grip. The other freed arm threw a qi-enfused punch just below his ribs. It hurt. Good.

Kiss. Bite.

Their legs tangled. A knee slammed into his gut. He threw his weight down and pinned Liu Qingge to the floor, breathing ragged.

Fuck.

Sex. 

Rut.

Heat roared through Luo Binghe’s blood. He was confused, momentarily, by the change in Xin Mo’s chanting. Confused even more by the way his body reacted with Liu Qingge squirming underneath him. 

He looked beautifully bullied and annoyed and-

A powerful kick launched Luo Binghe off. He skidded across the ground, heaving. What the fuck was he doing? Luo Binghe rolled on to his feet, and side-stepped a sword glare. Adrenaline empowered him. It sang an enchanting tune.

Rage.

Pain.

Death. Death. DEATH.

That wasn’t the point in all of this, was it? 

No. The point was punishment. 

Luo Binghe deserved this. Maybe, he could show his shizun how sorry he was. He would take penance for his crime. And his shizun would see that he didn’t mean to hurt him. 

I won’t do it again, I am sorry. Please. Please. Let me come home. 

He let Cheng Luan catch his side. A sharp, acidic cut stretched over his ribs.

Good. 

He deserved this. 

He hurt Shizun. 

It was his weakness and his lack of control that caused all of this to begin with. He had let his jealousy and pain guide his actions.

Another series of sword glares flew at Luo Binghe. He put up a bit of a resistence, just enough to dodge a few more lethal blows and to give Liu Qingge the impression that this was a fight. 

Not a self-imposed punishment. 

Pain blossomed across his thigh as a particularly vicious cut sliced through his muscle. His leg faltered, and he stumbled back to narrowly avoid the sharp hiss of a blade.

Luo Binghe grew up being beaten – because he wasn’t good enough. Those beatings had stopped, but obviously that wasn’t because he had grown out of needing them. He deserved this.

I’ll learn, Shizun, I’ll get better. I promise. I swear. 

He did not know why, even back in Jin Lan City, his shizun covered for him. It’s not your fault, Shen Qingqiu had said with such conviction that Luo Binghe nearly believed him. 

Why?

Why?

Why push him into the Abyss? 

Why protect him now, yet still cling on to Liu Qingge for safety? As if Luo Binghe might-

As if he might hurt him.

Isn’t that what you did? 

Luo Binghe felt the pricking of tears in his eyes. A fist empowered with qi slammed into his chest. Bones cracked. His vision swam as his back slammed back against the wall. That was the war god for you – lethal beauty and precision. He slumped to the ground, tensing to dodge a blow from Cheng Luan.

It did not come.

Jaw clenched, Luo Binghe blinked back into awareness. 

Liu Qingge stood before him, the picture of wrath. He held himself at bay, dark eyes sliding over Luo Binghe. “Fight me,” he grit out. 

Shit.

“I am.” Luo Binghe started to rise to his feet, casting a slight glance towards Shen Qingqiue’s bedroom. He had deposited his shizun there with a change of robes. It was cruel of him; he knew it would take far too long for Shizun to freshen up and change. Just enough time to incite the war god. 

Lips curling in distaste, Liu Qingge drew back. “Then draw your sword.” 

“I don’t need a sword to beat you,” Luo Binghe said, and pulled on an egotistic grin. If he wasn’t hiding his heritage, he would have allowed his eyes to flash red. 

To his horror, Liu Qingge eased his stance and took half a step back. 

“What are you doing?” Luo Binghe growled, his grin dimming. “It was me. It was me. I did it!” 

“No,” Liu Qingge said, frustration igniting his eyes.

Cheng Luan slipped back into its sheath. 

No. No. Luo Binghe was hardly bruised from that fight. He threw himself forward, raising a fist to the war god. 

This time Liu Qingge only blocked and side-stepped. He did not raise a hand against Luo Binghe. 

“It was my fault” Luo Binghe roared, frustrated.

Xin Mo whispered to him and told him to draw his blade. Once he drew his blade, he could fight in earnest. He and Xin Mo could match themselves against Liu Qingge’s fighting expertise and truly test their own strength. What an incredible battle it would be! 

Pain. 

Break. 

Cut.

He stole your precious shizun from you. He’s all that your shizun wants. Take him out of the picture. Show your shizun who is strongest. Show him that he can’t run from you. That he is yours, and only yours-

“No!” Luo Binghe shouted. 

There was sound and movement beyond the door. Shen Qingqiu had finished. 

Luo Binghe did not have much time before his shizun put a stop to this. He needed to anger Liu Qingge again. Hundreds of different options slid through the grease of his mind, things he could say or do. In a flash, he slipped in Liu Qingge’s defenses and slammed a fist into his cheek. That had to be enough, right? It had to be-

Shock widened Liu Qingge’s eyes and he stumbled backwards. Outrage ignited his eyes, and his mouth pulled into a vicious snarl. This was the face that would make disciples wet themselves. This was the face that meant the end.

Good.

Good. 

Luo Binghe waited for a series of blows that never came. 

“Brat,” Liu Qingge hissed. He spit, and a wad of blood and saliva hit the floor. “If it is your fault, then fix it.” 

At a loss, Luo Binghe stared.

What?

Why wasn’t he losing control? 

Why?

Was it because he still thought Luo Binghe a human?

Luo Binghe could fix that.

The door finally swept open, and Shen Qingqiu stood against it, body trembling from exertion. “Binghe!” he cried out. 

Xin Mo howled and laughed with glee, Do it, do it, do it, do it-

The plan coalesced. He did not think about what would happen after, he thought about now. A false calm settled over him, and he narrowed his eyes at his shishu. The smile on his lips was cruel and arrogant. “How did Shizun explain this lowly one’s absence?” 

Distrust narrowed Liu Qingge’s gaze. “You died.” 

“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu said, voice breaking.

There was a shine in his shishu's eyes. Was that… regret? 

Luo Binghe couldn’t dare to hope for that. It couldn’t be that. His shizun was scared of him – of the monstrous and dirty thing that he was. Because Luo Binghe hurt him. But now, now, this beast will show him that it was alright to punish him. He would accept it. He would atone. He would do anything to earn the right to be by his shizun’s side.

“This lowly one wonders if Shizun hoped for such an outcome?” Luo Binghe asked, his voice cracking. Tears burned in his eyes. “Seeing as he-” 

“No,” Liu Qingge cut him off. “He mourned.” 

What…?

“Liu Qingge!” Shen Qingqiu cried out, alarmed. 

All the gusto swept out of Luo Binghe at once. 

Lucidity sprinkled over him. 

Something is wrong.

He was losing control. It was Xin Mo. Last night, he had poured every last bit of his qi into Shen Qingqiu to prevent his death. Whatever happened through the night, from then to now, it gave Xin Mo a stronghold over him. Both of his spiritual and demonic qi were horrifically imbalanced. Was this why it hurt? Everything was on fire. Was he at the start of a qi deviation?

Was he already having one?

Xin Mo had swept underneath his nose, sinking its tendrils into him. It fed his betrayal and his confusion. It weakened him. 

“What is this?” Shen Qingqiu demanded. He tried to pull himself up into a picture of authority, though as soon as he took a step his knees shook. Neither Liu Qingge or Luo Binghe could get to him fast enough before he collapsed on to his knees. Even in a heap on the floor, he drew in a harsh, disciplinary expression and demanded, “What is going on?” 

“Luo Binghe’s using me to punish himself,” Liu Qingge explained, dryly. 

“Binghe?” Shen Qingqiu choked in shock. 

Why did he look horrified? Why did he seem to care? 

It didn’t make sense. It didn’t-

Xin Mo’s power swelled and knocked the air from Luo Binghe. He cried out, hands gripping his hair. 

It tore through him.

Blood. Anger. Death. Pain.

Break bones. 

Fight. 

Rage. Death. Pain. More. More. More. 

Now. 

NOW. 

Hands caught his shoulders. Someone was trying to talk to him. It was a calm, steady voice. A thread of spiritual qi began to seep into his battered and inflamed meridians. It wouldn’t be enough.

Luo Binghe needed to escape it now. If he lost control, he would hurt his shizun, again. He-

There was a thread of power, stuttering and swelling. It was alien and strange. His focus narrowed in on it, the only hint of light in this desolate darkness, and tugged. Cold energy swelled towards him.

In the background, he heard someone scream.

All at once, Xin Mo silenced.

Luo Binghe woke to silence. It was freedom. Every single muscle in his body relaxed. The knots on the back of his neck loosened. He could finally breathe. A gentle rhythm of breath tickled the inside of his arm. His eyes cracked open. Shen Yuan lay beside him, head cushioned by his forearm. He remembered, vaguely, the last moments of their time in this world. Blood had started to seep out of Shen Yuan, and he collapsed. Luo Binghe managed to catch him before succumbing to the darkness. 

Blood dried underneath Shen Yuan’s nose and around his mouth. He was the utter visage of horror. 

He was too fragile like this.

With his free hand, Luo Binghe brushed some hair off his shizun’s forehead. He hated what he had done to his shizun, despised that despite it all he had proven that he could not be trusted. Still, he could not stop himself from giving in and touching his shizun in such a way. 

He was a weak and greedy man. 

He wanted more.

The novelty of peace and quiet draped over him. His heart felt like a tender thing. Here, his mind was clear and his body did not burn. It was just his shizun and himself in their own world. 

Was there really any reason to go back?

Shen Yuan stirred. He had dark, long lashes that fanned his eyes. His beauty in this form was an unconventional one. Where Shen Qingqiu was harsh edges and power, Shen Yuan was delicate and soft. Like the fragile gleam of a soap bubble. His eyes opened, and he blinked a few times. His eyes focused on Luo Binghe.

As Luo Binghe guessed it would, color flooded Shen Yuan’s cheeks. He tore himself out of his arms and scrambled back until he hit the door. 

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe murmured, and he drew himself up onto his seat. 

Shen Yuan watched him with a mix of worry and alarm. “Binghe, are you alright? Xin Mo-” 

How did his shizun know about Xin Mo? Luo Binghe purposely disguised the blade, and did not draw it. When he had to draw it for the flight, it was unrecognizable. The question was proof in itself: this shizun knew of the current events in the other world. He also knew so much more than he should.

He knew more than he was explaining.

With a grieved sigh, Luo Binghe dropped into a kowtow. 

“Binghe!!” Shen Yuan startled. Hands immediately caught on to his arms and tried to encourage him to rise up. “What are you doing!?”

“This lowly one does not understand,” Luo Binghe whispered, tears glistening in his eyes. He was exhausted. “He does not know what he did wrong, so he asks for forgiveness.” As soon as Shen Yuan’s hands left him, and dropped back down, forehead pressed into the floor. 

“There’s no need for that,” Shen Yuan reprimanded, gently. “Get up this instant.” 

“Shizun says that,” Luo Binghe said, with no will to stop his sorrow from drenching his throat and thickening his voice. “But Shizun keeps things from this Binghe. This Binghe is stupid-” 

“Don’t you dare,” Shen Yuan said with a sharp hiss. With a surprising amount of force, he wrenched Luo Binghe up and kept a tight hold on his shoulders. “You are not stupid.”

“Shizun!” Luo Binghe wailed. “Is this lowly one not worthy of your attention or teachings? Is that not why you pushed him into the Abyss? Is it not why you continue to run and hide yourself from him?” He tried to fall back down into a kowtow, yet he was stopped by hands desperately catching his face.

“Binghe, please,” Shen Yuan said. “No more of this.” 

“This lowly one is stupid and must beg for explanation.” Luo Binghe choked out, weak to his shizun’s gentle hold. He pressed into the chill of Shen Yuan’s hands, tears racing down his cheeks. “Please, Shizun. Please. This Binghe is confused. This lowly beast must demand explanation, or he is afraid he will never know what he has done wrong and will never be able to gain his master’s forgiveness.” 

“You do not need my forgiveness, Binghe!” Shen Yuan shouted. “It is this master that must ask forgiveness from you.” 

“Shizun!” Luo Binghe gave in, and he threw himself forward to latch on to his shizun’s waist. It was too thin. He felt ribs through the indecent clothing. He immediately wanted to throw himself into the kitchen and begin to cook a buffet of food for his shizun until he stopped looking like a brittle stick. 

“Oh, my sweet little sheep…” Shen Yuan muttered, almost to himself. His hand swept over Luo Binghe’s hair and soothed him. 

A mix of frustration and desperation gave way to the soothing comfort Shen Yuan offered. He smelled different here. There was no lingering bamboo smell. Instead, it was that artificial cleanliness. Though underneath that was him. Luo Binghe wanted to be the beast that he was and crawl underneath Shen Yuan’s shirt and breathe in his skin. He wanted to feel the warmth of his body against him.

It was a daring, dangerous thought. 

He was such a greedy man. 

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe murmured. He was slightly frustrated that despite his begging, there still wasn’t a single word of explanation. To stave off the need to bite his shizun, he murmured into Shen Yuan’s hip bone, letting his breath sink through the thin fabric, “please.” 

Greedy…

Shen Yuan shifted and cleared his throat. “Right.” He patted his shoulder, and then lifted his arms for Luo Binghe to get up.

Pfft. As if Luo Binghe was going to give up this prime spot. He had dreamed of being back in his shizun’s arms for years. Now that he was here, nothing was going to make him move. 

He was not going anywhere. Not until he got answers from his shizun, even if that meant groveling for the next several hours and staining him with snot and tears. It was a fight that he would win.

There was a crash in the other room. 

“What was that?” Shen Yuan tensed. 

Luo Binghe was going to murder whatever it was. He was going to shove it off the balcony and not even watch it fall.

With great reluctance, Luo Binghe dragged himself out of Shen Yuan’s arms and gathered his feet underneath him. He did not wait for Shen Yuan to take his hand before gently plucking him off the ground and guiding him behind him. 

There was only a slight muffled protest from his shizun. 

Luo Binghe might not have cultivation in this world, but he was definitely still able to put up a fight. He pulled the door open and stepped outside the room to a rather strange sight.

In the middle of a sitting area, red-faced and scandalized, stood a man. He held the ends of his top, attempting to stretch it down. If Shen Yuan’s clothing was inappropriate, this man was downright near-naked. His top did nothing to cover the carved planes of his stomach, even as he attempted to stretch it down.

It was Liu Qingge in what could only be described as a cropped top.

Chapter Text

The War God of Bai Zhan was in his living room. In a crop top. And he looked pissed. Absolutely breathtaking, and also extremely and very dangerously pissed. Shen Yuan had never seen so much of Liu Qingge. The most he had ever seen was after their dip in the pond on that succubi mission, where Madam Meiyin told Shen Yuan he would have two great loves in his life. Two!! Did that mean he was destined for heartbreak, to watch one of his loves die!? 

Also, where were they!? 

Hello?? 

“Do you know, Immortal Master? These individuals are deeply in love with you.”

That was what she had said, right before Liu Qingge had exploded for whatever reason, and then there was the issue with the aphrodisiac… and then the rose pool. 

The water had made Liu Qingge’s robes cling on to him – not that Shen Yuan was purposely looking!! That was nothing compared to the visage now. The war god wore tight skinny jeans that practically plastered to the thick muscles of his thighs and calves. There was a large gap of skin, with a single mole above his hip bone. With modern standards, the outfit wasn’t that revealing. 

Liu Qingge wore long sleeves, thick boots, and his pants might be considered high-rise.

The problem was that for a near decade of his life, Shen Yuan had worn at least what seemed like a dozen layers of clothing, with Liu Qingge also wearing a similar amount. And now he wasn’t.

And fuck. He was hot. 

In a… perfectly normal way of recognizing that your friend was extremely hot.

Never mind the heat that Shen Yuan felt swimming through his veins.

He would have to consider that reaction later.

“Stop. Staring!” Liu Qingge hissed through his teeth, face mottled red. 

“Liu-shishu,” Luo Binghe purred. His face was clean of any tears. How unfair! If Shen Yuan even thought of crying, his eyes would be swollen to the size of baseballs!! That’s the protagonist- 

Wait.

Protagonist rules shouldn’t work here. It wasn’t Luo Binghe’s world. Why was he still impossibly attractive!? 

“I’ll get you another shirt,” Shen Yuan told him, “just… don’t kill each other.” He escaped into his bedroom, and had to catch himself against the wall as dizziness started to chase him. Ugh. 

Behind him, he heard a near predatory laugh from Luo Binghe. “How bold of you, Qingge~”

“Y-You-!” Liu Qingge grit out.

“You’re the one half-naked-”

Something crashed against the wall.

“Do not break down my house!” Shen Yuan yelled, voice sharp. The two had already left a mess in the bamboo house! His apartment was off limits!! 

Uneasy silence followed after his sharp warning. He rushed to his closet, throwing on the light overhead. His closet was sparse in comparison to his computer room. He never really had a reason, or a want, to dive into fashion. Most of his outfits were just a vague variety of some sweatshirt or sweater and jeans. Though, in his high school years, he used to wear overly large t-shirts. There, in the back of a drawer, he found one. 

By the time he came back out into his living room, he had to use the wall as a support. He had pushed himself too far, getting up and down too quickly, and his body ached in protest. Luo Binghe broke his staring contest with Liu Qingge to throw Shen Yuan a worried glance. He stepped across the room to take his elbow. “Yuan-gege? Are you alright?” 

Shen Yuan blinked, and his face colored. He was back to this “gege” bullshit?! “Binghe!” He scorned. “There’s no need for that!” 

A pleased grin lit up Luo Binghe’s lips. 

Liu Qingge drew a sharpened gaze between the two of them, still attempting to hold the ends of his shirt down. 

With a light shake of his head, Shen Yuan turned to the embarrassed war god and offered the shirt. “Here. This should be better. There’s a bathroom right there.” He pointed.

After a moment’s hesitation, Liu Qingge tore across the room. He snatched up the shirt and disappeared into the bathroom. The door closed with a slam. 

Shen Yuan blinked after his disappearance. His eyebrows fell together. “Binghe?” 

“Mm?” 

“The hospital… you don’t remember going to that room at all, do you?” Shen Yuan asked. He paused, and clarified, “The room with my father. The man on the phone.”

All the humor swept off Luo Binghe’s face. “That was your father?” 

Shen Yuan blinked up at him. What sort of reaction was that!? Was it that hard to believe that Shen Yuan had a family!? “Yes?”

“He-“ Luo Binghe struggled with his words, before he gave Shen Yuan a concerned look. “This Binghe thought you two were strangers.” 

Oh. “Uh.” Shen Yuan shifted on his feet. “No. Anyways. Do you remember how you got there?”

The concern did not fade. It stayed ever-present as Luo Binghe answered, “No. We were in the alley, and I…” 

His expression darkened.

Uh-oh.

Was Luo Binghe finally remembering everything that Shen Qingqiu had done to him!? There was no way Shen Yuan stood a chance against the protagonist now, cultivation or not. As Shen Qingqiu, he might have to deal with Without a Cure, but at least the peak lord was a little bad ass! 

But then why did his disciple cry in the room just now…

Who benefited from that act?

Wait. 

Was… that guilt?

Had Shen Yuan been misreading him? 

“It’s not your fault,” Shen Yuan told him, almost experimentally. 

Luo Binghe quickly corrected his expression and smiled. “There was that big qi explosion, and then darkness. And then that room with Yuan-gege!” 

Ignoring his blush, Shen Yuan said, “Just now, you almost had a qi-deviation with Xin Mo, and it brought us here. This time… it appears Liu-shidi got pulled in as well. Considering his… reaction, I tend to think he does not know how he got here, either.”

A deep frown settled over Luo Binghe’s lips. “This… disciple… is extremely sorry. He should not have lost control.” 

There was that expression again! Had he been reading Luo Binghe wrong this entire time?! “Binghe,” he soothed, raising a hand to pat his shoulder. His head was too high! “You did not cause any real harm. Xin Mo took advantage of the situation. All things considered, this is the better alternative. We just… have to figure out how to get back.” 

Before Luo Binghe could answer, the door to the bathroom slammed open. 

Liu Qingge stood, fuming. 

Ah. This shirt… was somehow worse. 

It covered most of his stomach, sure. There was only the barest hint of skin there. The problem with this shirt was that it was too tight. It ran over Liu Qingge’s form like paint. 

Shen Yuan’s mouth dried. 

There was nothing left to the imagination.

“This. Is. Worse.” Liu Qingge grit through his teeth. He looked as if he might smash something, and that something might be Shen Yuan. 

Panic seized him. His mouth ran before his mind caught up. “It’s not my fault you two have the body shape and size of some sort of…” Shen Yuan threw his hands in the air. “Sex gods!” 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

He did not just say that. 

Liu Qingge’s mouth dropped open, and certainly a sound was supposed to accompany it but nothing did. 

“‘You two?’” Luo Binghe asked, looking quite proud of himself. 

Shen Yuan really said that. Aloud. With his mouth. 

He was mortified. 

After a few moments of long, drawn out silence, Luo Binghe took pity on them both. He shrugged out of his leather jacket, and then slipped out of his zip-up. “Here,” he said, and tossed it over to his shishu. “Until we can get you something better.” 

Liu Qingge looked as if he might protest. He considered the jacket, then his shirt, and pulled it on. His face was bright red, even as he glared at the zipper. 

“Oh,” Shen Yuan said. Right then and there he decided to pretend he never said anything. Ever. Not once in his life had he ever spoken words! He certainly would never string together the words “sex” and “god.” Nope! Not him. He closed the distance between them. “Let me.” He plucked the ends of the jacket and set the zipper. “I actually hate zip-ups. They’re ridiculously difficult.” Plus, sometimes the joints in his hands hurt far too much for the coordination required to use the zipper. He smiled, and drew his head back to look his shidi in the eye.

Ugh. 

Why was he so short in this body? He had to really crane his neck. 

So!!! Unfair! 

Liu Qingge stared down at him. “Shen… Qingqiu?” 

Shen Yuan stiffened. How did they keep guessing???

“Looks like Qingge isn’t as thick-headed as people say,” Luo Binghe said with a sharpened smirk. 

Eyes snapping up, the war god’s jaw tightened. “You! Disrespectful!!” 

“What?” Luo Binghe asked in mock affront. “Was it not Qingge who spoke so familiar to this Binghe first?” He fluttered his lashes. 

Anger flared in Liu Qingge’s eyes. “What is this place? What the hell did you do, you-“ He moved to go past Shen Yuan, shoving him as he went. 

As Shen Qingqiu, that would have been nothing. 

Unfortunately, that little jostle was everything. Shen Yuan stumbled, surprised, and threw out a hand to try and catch himself. He bit back any sound as he slammed into a set of shelves. A soft hiss escaped through his teeth. 

Liu Qingge froze. 

There was a dark look in Luo Binghe’s eyes. Ah. Yeah. That look was different and it definitely wasn’t guilt — not this time. That was the full power of the black lotus! “This Binghe heard that Liu Qingge was-“

Whatever Luo Binghe was about to say wouldn’t be good for Shen Yuan or his apartment. He quickly interrupted, “Binghe! Please!” He paused as two pairs of eyes snapped to him. “I…” Fuck. The full power of their attention, from both of them, was very nervewrecking! “I am hungry.” He wasn’t, really. Though he would have to eat a meal if he wanted to take any medication — and a meal wasn’t a bad idea. If time continued to move on in either world, their bodies would still need nutrition. That was… if they all had two different bodies in both worlds.

Judging by the fact that Liu Qingge didn’t have a bruised cheek, and that they were in different clothes, they probably were in different bodies.

How come only Shen Yuan got a downgrade!? 

How was that fair!!??

Luo Binghe brightened. He looked like a kid who just got told he was going to an expensive amusement park. “This disciple will prepare a meal for Shizun!”

“For everyone, please,” Shen Yuan corrected, sternly. 

There was the slightest pout. Luo Binghe threw an annoyed look at the war god. 

“I wonder if Luo Binghe’s cooking will make Liu-shidi smile again,” Shen Yuan said, attempting to say it nonchalantly as if thinking aloud. He ignored the cutting look from Liu Qingge and pushed away from the book shelf. Bruises started to smart his arms and side. Oh well. 

“It will not!” Liu Qingge grumbled.

Taking it as a challenge, Luo Binghe grinned. “This disciple will prepare food right away!” He swept around the kitchen island and started diving through all the cupboards with vigor. 

Shen Yuan turned away to hide the way his lips curled. He eased back across the room and settled down in a large and plush arm chair. His body sank. Ah! He missed this chair. It was so difficult not to just completely dissolve into a useless puddle.

After a moment of staring, Liu Qingge disappeared into the bathroom. He came back out with a damp towel and stomped over to Shen Yuan, shoving it into his face. 

Shen Yuan stared at it. 

“Your face. Blood.” Liu Qingge glared at him. 

“Oh.” Shen Yuan took the warm rag. His face heated. “Is that how you knew?” He scrubbed his face, watching as the bright white rag turned into a horror prop. 

Liu Qingge frowned. “No.” 

“How then?” Shen Yuan asked. He thought he had finished cleaning up the mess. What an awful thing for Luo Binghe to wake up to!! Not to mention it being Liu Qingge’s first time seeing him as… this! 

(There really shouldn’t have been a first time.)

There was a twisted look on Liu Qingge’s face. It almost looked like some sort of constipation. He sighed and held out a hand. 

Confused, Shen Yuan handed him the rag. 

“You didn’t… get it all.” Liu Qingge dropped down beside the chair, and held the rag between them. 

Shen Yuan’s heart leaped into his throat. He was going to wipe his face for him!? “Oh.” 

Liu Qingge waited. 

It was an offer, not a demand. It would be easy to tell him no, and take the rag and hobble off to the bathroom to finish. Except then Shen Yuan would have to get up again, and there were bruises on his side and his body ached and…

And Liu Qingge was right there already. 

He was kneeling for Shen Yuan. 

This was ridiculous! Shen Yuan opened his mouth to tell his shidi he didn’t have to worry. 

But Liu Qingge ran out of patience. He took Shen Yuan’s chin with a delicate hold, and carefully maneuvered his head back and forth as he scrubbed away the last bits of blood. He was achingly gentle. 

Shen Yuan’s face was bright red. It probably was not helping to find any left-over flecks.

“It’s… you,” His shidi told him. 

“Mm?” 

Coloring, Liu Qingge scowled. “How I knew. It’s easy. It’s just you. How you act.” 

Shen Yuan did not know how to respond to that. The two of them had barely exchanged a few sentences before Liu Qingge figured it out. How could he tell from such a small interaction?! What sort of tells did Shen Yuan have??

With one final swipe, Liu Qingge jolted to his feet. He held the rag in a fist, and said, “There.” He paused, struggling for a second, and added, “Sorry. For pushing you.” He left, stomping away to go deal with the soiled rag. 

Shen Yuan’s heart continued to pound in his chest. He forced his hands to stay in his lap, so he wouldn’t trace the tingling afteraffects of Liu Qingge’s touch. He wasn’t some female lead in some sort of drama!! Why was he reacting like this?! He let out a long breath and dared a glance towards the kitchen. 

Standing in the middle, Luo Binghe studied a pitiful pile of ingredients. All of his previous excitement was now just gloom. 

“Do… I not have food?” Shen Yuan asked. 

“This disciple has failed you…” Luo Binghe murmured, miserably. Most of the words were inaudible, but Shen Yuan knew his disciple enough to figure out what he might have said. 

“No, that’s on me,” Shen Yuan said with a heavy sigh. He hated grocery shopping and cooking in general. It was easier just to order pre-made food or eat snacks. “We’ll order food. That’s okay. Come here and sit down.”

“I can still make tea!” His disciple said with burning determination. 

Shen Yuan smiled at him. “That would be wonderful. Thank you, Binghe.” He pulled out his phone and started fishing through delivery apps. There was a delicate balance of figuring out what sort of food he wanted Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge to try, and what menus had something he could actually eat. He was still scrolling when Liu Qingge came back from hiding in the bathroom, and Luo Binghe finished the tea. Three mismatched cups sat in the middle of the coffee table, steaming with freshly brewed tea. 

“This one is yours, Qingge,” Luo Binghe said, fluttering his eyelashes. 

“Wh-“ Liu Qingge’s voice was strangled. 

Shen Yuan glanced up. He only had a few blissful moments of wondering what was so wrong about a cup of tea until he realized what mug it was. 

A provocative image was spread across its face: Luo Binghe stripped near bare with his muscles glistening with sweat. He was grinning with a sultry wink. It was a gag gift his sister gave him, and he had shoved it far back into the corners of his cupboard because she made him promise he wouldn’t throw it away. 

Choking on air, Shen Yuan moved before either of them could. He snatched the cup, so thoroughly embarrassed he couldn’t even form words. Before anyone could say anything, he fled to the kitchen. Behind him, Luo Binghe was doing his best imitation of innocence and Liu Qingge was probably succumbing to a stroke. 

Shen Yuan wanted to die. Again.

He deposited the cup onto the counter and dropped behind the safety of the island, hiding his face in his hands. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re fucking kidding me!! Of all fucking cups!!! Binghe!!!!!

“What?!” The war god finally managed, sounding outraged. “Y-You!” 

Shen Yuan squeezed his eyes shut and allowed himself a few more seconds to drown in humiliation. Then he took in a big breath, stood up, and got a different cup. “Luo Binghe,” he called, forcing his voice to sound reprimanding and calm. “Stop provoking your shishu.” As he transferred the tea into another completely appropriate cup, he heard a strange sound.

A laugh. 

On the couch, Luo Binghe fell back and was laughing. His hand rested on his stomach. The laughter was free and joyous. It was the same laugh Shen Yuan had only started to pull from Luo Binghe before the Immortal Alliance Conference in the rarest of moments. 

This might have been at his expense, but he somehow was no longer regretting that stupid cup.

Well. He didn’t regret it for one or two seconds. Then his cheeky disciple had to choke out through his giggles, “W-Why does-” Wheeze. “-Sh-Shizun have that!?” 

Liu Qingge’s affronted ire now pinned directly on Shen Yuan, as if he were the one who personally delivered the inappropriate mug to his hands.

Partially to give himself a few moments to respond, Shen Yuan found another hiding spot for the cup and shoved it in the far back. It would not be seeing the light of day ever again. He cleared his throat, grabbed his cane, and made his way back to the sitting area with as much dignity as he could pretend to have. “My sister thought it would be a hilarious gift.” 

Well. Really, despite it thoroughly wrecking Shen Yuan’s integrity, it at least had its intended effect. She probably would have cried laughing so hard if he told her– 

It hit Shen Yuan right then that he could see his sister again. Homesickness cut into his lungs, and he almost forgot to breathe until he plopped back down into his chair.

Both Liu Qingge and Luo Binghe were staring at him now. 

It took him a few moments to gather himself. Sitting up straight, he narrowed his eyes. “You don’t believe me?” he asked, an eyebrow raised pointedly. He refused to admit to buying any salacious pictures of the protagonist.

“Yuan-gege has a sister?” Luo Binghe gaped. 

Oh. Shen Yuan dropped his eyes to his tea. “Yes. And two brothers. Though I haven’t seen either in…” The corners of his lips drooped. It had only been two days in this world – technically three now. Except that for Shen Yuan, it had been so much longer. It had been years. “A really long time. I also have a mother and a father, which may be a shock, I know.” 

No one said anything, not for a long while. 

“...can Shizun explain now?” Luo Binghe asked, voice low. He had a desperate, pitiful shine in his eyes. 

“Yes.” Liu Qingge glowered, as if perturbed to agree with Luo Binghe. “Explain. Now.”

Chapter Text

There was a delicate allure to the man in the chair. The way he held the mug of tea was with effortless grace, a mirror to Shen Qingqiu. It was no question who this man really was. He blushed more easily, had his hair cut short, and had dark circles under his eyes; but it was him. Through and through. Liu Qingge could not look at him for too long. He wore inappropriate clothing. 

The collar of his top was so loose. Shadows played against the cords of a thin neck. Collarbones traced to delicate shoulders, disappearing underneath the thin fabric. It was such a small thing that left Liu Qingge breathless.

With everything else going on, he should be more bothered about the fact that he was lost in an alien place without his cultivation. He should be figuring things out, and finding a way back. Instead, it didn’t seem to matter what body Shen Qingqiu had morphed into, Liu Qingge was still… distracted around him. 

“...I’ll explain,” Shen Qingqiu said, eyebrows tightening together. “After I order food. It will take a while to get here, and we should eat something.” 

Liu Qingge studied him. The only tell that his shixiong might be somewhat anxious was a slight quiver in his fingertips as he set the tea down and pulled out a little black box. It was the one he was playing with earlier. Liu Qingge leaned in, trying to get a peek at what he was staring at.

“Oh,” Shen Qingqiu said, surprised. His eyes lifted and he glanced between Liu Qingge and his disciple. “Here.” He eased himself up onto his feet, forgetting his cane, and stepped to the couch. He sank into it next to Liu Qingge. “Come, Binghe.” He patted the space on his other side. 

Now that there wasn’t the looming threat of anyone dying or anyone being scandalously dressed, Liu Qingge got the chance to really look at his shixiong’s disciple. The only times he had mildly paid attention to the brat was whenever he swung by his shixiong’s, mostly to help circulate his meridians. He remembered the first time that he had ever seen Luo Binghe. So young, yet already brimming with potential. It was odd to see Shen Qingqiu go from scorning the boy to favoring him. And now that boy was somehow a man. 

That happened to people, yes. 

But Luo Binghe died. It had destroyed Shen Qingqiu.

Not that his shixiong would never admit that. Liu Qingge had watched him for years, and knew his shixiong’s moods. Most of them, that is. He felt selfish and hungry to want to know all of them. Not that he had ever wanted to witness Shen Qingqiu’s grief. Sometimes grief was a solitary thing. At least, it was to his shixiong. There was nothing that Liu Qingge could do for him. (Did he even try hard enough?) It only made him angrier that Luo Binghe had stayed away for so long.

And now Luo Binghe was back and alive, and… a grown man. An irritating man. A shameless, disrespectful, handsome-

What. 

Luckily, Liu Qingge was distracted from his own thoughts. 

His shixiong was too lenient on his teachings, because his brat of a disciple sat so close he practically shoved the small man into Liu Qingge’s own lap. 

 Color drenched Shen Qingqiu’s pale skin, and his ears turned a vibrant red. He murmured some sort of reprimand to Luo Binghe, who blinked innocently and pouted, “This disciple just wants to see better!” 

“Shameless,” Liu Qingge murmured without heat. He was too focused on calming his heart. Really, he wasn’t sure who the “shameless” was for.

“Sorry, Liu-shidi.” 

There were some words. As well as some questions. Liu Qingge did not remember how he answered any of them. All he could think of was Shen Qingqiu’s body heat, and the thin fabric of his top, and the way their thighs pressed close together. From this angle, the collar of his shixiong’s shirt was open enough to let anyone’s eyes drop down his chest. Not… that he was looking.

Would Luo Binghe stop jostling him into Liu Qingge!?

“What’s that?” the brat would ask about every single picture, his eyes alight in excitement. It might not be unlike what Liu Qingge felt when he found a new beast to fight. Picking out food, it seems, would take far longer than what his shixiong had initially planned.

After promising his disciple something called “cooking shows”, Shen Qingqiu finally settled on a meal for the three of them. He set the little black box on a low table. 

It was time now. 

Silence stretched. Shen Qingqiu did not look at either of them. He sat with a stiff upper back, shoulders tucked up near his ears, and stared down into his tea cup. Their thighs still pressed together. He was tense. 

Almost as tense as Liu Qingge.

“Would either of you like more tea?” his shixiong asked. 

“Shizun.” It was a quiet plea, and far more pitiful and real than Liu Qingge had ever heard from the brat. 

Eyes shutting, Shen Qingqiu stole himself for a few delicate moments. Then he set his tea down, and stood. He moved with great care in this form, as if each step his body might decide to betray him. His hand braced against the arm of the plush chair and he sank down into it. The cushions nearly swallowed him whole. He grabbed a blanket to drape over his knees, and his hands folded in his lap. “Alright,” he breathed in deeply. 

His lips trembled. 

Liu Qingge narrowed his eyes. Of all the expressions and moods he had observed on Shen Qingqiu, this one was new. He had no real reference as to what it could be. Other than, of course, fear?

“Shizun?” Luo Binghe asked. His eyes darted to Liu Qingge.

He caught his eye. There was something curious about that look. Why would that brat look at him? He frowned. Was he asking for something? At first, Liu Qingge had thought that this was all Luo Binghe’s fault. The brat had cried as much — even to go as far as provoking him. Except now, he didn't even know what was at fault. The scope of it all had changed. Apparently his shixiong had a sister that existed wherever this was. A sister who gifted him… 

…unique things.

Confused, he turned his attention to his shixiong. “Start small,” he said, and leaned back. “Where are we?” 

“Uh…” Shen Qingqiu blinked and glanced up at him. “We’re… not in your world. I am sure both of you have guessed. This world has no cultivation.” He drew his eyes across the two of them, studying their expressions in turn. His eyes fell back down to his hands. “There’s also no demons, no magical plants, or…” His voice died out.

Whatever this curse was, it brought his shixiong somewhere he was familiar with. Extremely familiar. 

“You… have been here before,” Liu Qingge prompted. 

His shixiong’s lips pressed into a tight line, discomfort twitching around his body. 

“He was born here,” Luo Binghe observed.

All the little pieces of information had pointed to that – but it wasn’t possible. Was it? Liu Qingge searched his shixiong for any sign of a lie. The man’s breathing had picked up, short and shallow, and he tried to hide the shaking of his hands in his lap. Anyone else might have thought him quiet and calm. They wouldn’t know what to look for. 

“Luo Binghe is right,” Shen Qingqiu murmured. His eyes fluttered shut. 

Shock hit him like a piece of glass shattering on the floor, all of its pieces flying into different directions. His thoughts broke into hundreds of tangents, each louder and more demanding than the last. Through the massive mess of his brain, he managed to demand, “Explain.”

“My name is Shen Yuan,” he said, voice breaking only slightly. “I died.”

Shen Yuan. Shen Yuan. 

The name repeated itself over and over as horror continued to compound into a crescendo of buzzing noise. 

I died. 

Liu Qingge couldn’t breathe. The thought that he-

That Shen-

Died.

“At least, I thought I did. I am not quite sure what is going on anymore. When I died, I transmigrated into someone else.” 

“Shen Qingqiu,” Luo Binghe murmured.

I died. Those two words resounded across his skull. Mouth tight, Liu Qingge asked, “Transmigrated?” 

Shen Yuan’s mouth opened and shut. He waved a hand through the air, gathering his thoughts in front of him. The motion lacked the flare of a fan. “My soul… got placed into another body. In this case, I was placed in your world. Binghe is right. I… was put into Shen Qingqiu’s body.”

On the other side of the couch, Luo Binghe was artificially relaxed, lounging on the couch with one arm up on the back of it. One of his legs hooked over the other, foot bouncing in random intervals. The expression on his face was ambivalent and kind. It was fake. 

Liu Qingge did not know how he knew that.

Maybe because he has been on the receiving end of so many of this brat’s plastic smiles. 

“When?” Luo Binghe asked.

That question sparked an epiphany. The qi deviation. Liu Qingge sat up. 

All the peak lords had a secret meeting about the changes in the Qing Jing Peak lord. At the time, almost all had agreed the changes were for the better. The only one in minor disagreement was Zhangmen-shixiong, who had tested Shen Qingqiu for possession. Liu Qingge’s eyebrows tightened together, and he tried to recall his thoughts at the time. He could not remember. It wasn’t in his strong suit to ever really invest too much time or thought into his sect siblings – especially not Shen Qingqiu. The two got along as well as clean silk and oil, and Liu Qingge had no doubt that the man had hated him.

Then one day his cruelty had simply… stopped.

Liu Qingge had wondered if he had always misunderstood his shixiong, especially after his rescue in the Ling Xi Caves.

That moment changed the trajectory of Liu Qingge’s life (read: heart) forever. 

His eyes lifted and he realized that Shen Yuan was staring at both of them, absorbing both of their reactions to the news. The flutter of his hands was tempered into a white-knuckle grip on his blanket. That was the only sign of anxiety in the man. It would be frightening, wouldn’t it? To explain to two people, at once, that he had taken over the body of someone else. Someone who was elevated, and arguably critically important, in their world. How would Zhangmen-shixiong react?

Liu Qingge’s hands tightened into fists, He can never find out.

That thought surprised him.

Had his loyalty flipped so carelessly?

It’s not careless.

“I…” Shen Yuan dropped his gaze and turned away. He sank a little, as if growing smaller. “When I woke for the first time in your world, Shen Qingqiu was sick…” 

“You gave me medicine for the first time shortly after,” Luo Binghe murmured in surprise. 

Liu Qingge nodded. As he suspected. The qi deviation. 

Across the room, Shen Yuan fidgeted. He swallowed, shoulders curled, as he tried reading both of their faces. 

It was hard marrying him with Shen Qingqiu. Well, perhaps the better way to say that was: it was hard thinking of Shen Yuan as anything but Shen Qingqiu and remembering that there was another who had taken residence in that body before him. 

Liu Qingge should have some loyalty, shouldn’t he? He should be angry for the death of his shixiong, and the subterfuge and lying. Instead all he could think about was re-learning Shen Yuan, and knowing him as who he was and not the mask he hid behind. 

He decided in that instant that if Luo Binghe made so much as a twitch against Shen Yuan, he would do anything in his power to protect his shixiong.

“So it was Shizun who pushed me,” Luo Binghe murmured with a faraway look in his eyes. 

Liu Qingge snapped to attention. What?

“Binghe,” Shen Yuan choked on the name. His eyes shined.

The disciples were never privy to Shen Qingqiu’s health, at least not as much as the peak lords were. Luo Binghe must have thought (hoped?) that Shen Yuan’s transmigration happened at a different point. 

“Explain,” Liu Qingge demanded. What did Luo Binghe mean “pushed?” The years following the Immortal Conference, Shen Qingqiu was absolutely wrecked with grief. It made him a shadow of the man he was before. Mixed in with that grief, there had been guilt too. Liu Qingge had always assumed it was because his shixiong believed that he had failed his disciple. 

What did you do?

“I…” Shen Yuan dared a glance up at them. Guilt and pain shined in his eyes, and he had a hard time looking over at his disciple. 

“What happened at the Immortal Conference?” Liu Qingge asked, and he directed this question at Luo Binghe. 

The disciple’s hands were shaking and his lips were trembling. Fuck. His eyes were shining.

Fuck.

“I…” Shen Yuan closed his eyes. He breathed in through his nose and sat up. “I pushed Binghe into the Abyss.”

It took a little time for those words to make sense.

They did not make sense. 

Liu Qingge leaped from the couch. He prowled around the room, curling his hands into fists. The years following the Immortal Conference were both the worst and best. There had been a few stolen moments between him and Shen Qingqiu, just the two of them. He managed to make his shixiong laugh a few times — those memories he held dear to his heart. But even then, he would never trade his shixiong's happiness for a few selfish memories.

“That does not make sense,” Liu Qingge said, throwing a sharp glance to Shen Yuan. “You were bereft. You grieved.”

“…I wouldn’t say bereft-“

This man and his fucking thin face! “Shen. Q-“ Liu Qingge stopped. “Yuan.”

The two stared another down. 

Liu Qingge did not understand. There was no reason for his shixiong to do something so terribly cruel to a disciple that he adored to no end. What could have even prompted such a reaction? Horror started to shrink his lungs. Luo Binghe, that little brat, that poor child, had been tossed into the Abyss. That’s where he had gone? This entire time?

“He did it because I am a beast,” Luo Binghe spoke, voice void of any real emotion. 

“Binghe!” 

“I am a d-“

“There’s a System!” Shen Yuan spoke over him, voice raised and sharp. 

The disciple’s mouth snapped shut. 

“What.” Liu Qingge was getting ready to punch something, probably himself to make this all make sense. 

Shen Yuan paled. He stared down at his hands, looking as if he regretted his outburst. It took a few minutes for him to collect himself, time that Liu Qingge spent trying not to break something. “...there is an entity,” he spoke slowly, considering each word, “that… set rules when I transmigrated.” He swallowed, and dared a quick glance up at Luo Binghe. “When-“ His breath hitched, and his face froze. Considering his words, he gently said, “When Luo Binghe and I met in the alley, he thought I was calling for help…” His voice trailed off again. “Well. I suppose I was. But not in the way he thought I was.” 

Something had occurred in that alley, and Liu Qingge had to figure out what. But first, he had to figure what the fuck happened at the Immortal Conference. And before that, he had to figure what the fuck was going on with an entity?! As calmly as he could manage, he asked, “What rules?” 

Shen Yuan’s eyebrows tightened together. “I don’t think we really need to get into that.”

“This one finds himself very curious about an entity who has rules on how his shizun can act,” Luo Binghe said in an overly friendly way that somehow also sounded like a threat. 

As a child, that sort of tone was just presumptuous and annoying. But coming from an adult…

It was almost intimidating.

Almost… impressive. 

Discomfort twitched across Shen Yuan’s face. “If you insist.” 

“This Binghe insists,” he said, cheerfully. 

Shen Yuan took a deep breath. Then he sighed. “At first I had to attempt to… act like Shen Qingqiu. Until I earned the ability to act with more freedom. More like myself.”

That did not sound good. Liu Qingge felt anger begin to curl in his core. “And how did the System think Shen Qingqiu acted?”

His shixiong looked distinctly uncomfortable. He glanced at his disciple, worry adding a wrinkle between his eyebrows. His eyes fell. “There were certain things that I had to do,” Shen Yuan continued, each word halting, “and some things I was not able to do.”

“What would happen if you did not do, or do, these things?” Luo Binghe asked, his smile growing brighter. 

It did nothing to ease his shixiong’s discomfort. “...there were…” he corrected, “are… repercussions.” 

Liu Qingge narrowed his eyes. “What.” 

“What sort of repercussions, Yuan-gege?” Luo Binghe asked. Somehow he managed to keep his voice light and airy, meanwhile Liu Qingge wanted to smash the table. 

His shixiong did not answer. “It does not matter.” He waved a hand through the air, and again it lacked the added charm of a fan. “That is not the point of this. I…” His eyebrows fell together and his tone became grave. “This one is deeply aggrieved that he could not tell the truth. He did not…” He had been speaking so informally this entire time, it was a shock to hear the sudden switch. “He did not mean to hurt either Liu Qingge or Luo Binghe or anyone else for lying. Sincerely, and deeply regretful, he apologizes.” He pulled the blanket aside and moved.

It took Liu Qingge too long to realize what he was doing.

Luo Binghe moved first. “Shizun!” he cried. He caught his shizun, stopping him from dropping into a low bow. 

“I’m sorry,” Shen Yuan whispered. There was water in his eyes that he tried to hide by ducking his head. Even with Luo Binghe keeping a hold on his shoulders, he managed to force his upper body into a bow. 

“Shen-” Liu Qingge choked out, and stopped himself from adding Qingqiu. He quickly corrected and said, “Shen. Yuan. Stop.” 

“Shizun, please,” his disciple cried. He dropped to the ground and threw his arms around his shizun’s waist. 

Face pinched, Shen Yuan turned away from both of them. “Luo Binghe. I am not your sh-”

“No!” Luo Binghe roared. 

Shen Yuan flinched, and Liu Qingge’s hand snapped to summon a sword that wasn’t there. The room leadened with strained silence.

“Shizun is Shizun!” The disciple’s voice became wet. He buried his face in his shizun’s side. “Don’t… don’t say you’re not. Please.” 

“Binghe…”

The look on Shen Yuan’s face was far too vulnerable. It was full of pain and regret. He looked close to breaking. 

Neither were talking like they needed to. It was pissing Liu Qingge off.

He moved. In a few steps, he reached the mess on the floor and slid down beside the chair. His hand caught the back of Shen Yuan’s head, forcing their eyes to meet. “Did you want to push Luo Binghe into the Abyss?”

The sudden touch surprised his shixiong as much as it surprised himself.

“No!” Shen Yuan was appalled. “No, but-“

“What was the punishment for not pushing Luo Binghe?” Liu Qingge demanded. 

Shen Yuan’s face shuddered with shock. 

Was it really that surprising that Liu Qingge connected the dots? “There was one,” he said slowly, hoping to ground his shixiong and his needy and traumatized disciple. Someone had to keep their fucking head. “There is no other reason why you would.” At least, no other reason that actually mattered. Luo Binghe had a secret. That much was clear to anyone with half a brain. 

(Well, really, the brat had attempted to confess to it twice and his shizun interrupted both times. Those two were not fucking subtle.)

“It’s no excuse,” Shen Yuan croaked, his throat thick. “It doesn’t matter what the System said. It wasn’t worth it. I was weak, I shouldn’t have-“

“Shen. Yuan.” Liu Qingge dragged his face closer, glaring. “What. Was. The. Fucking. Punishment?” 

With a slight gasp, his shixiong stopped looking him in the eye. He gulped. His hands spasmed. “…death.” 

That was what he had thought. Luo Binghe needed to hear it, and Shen Yuan needed to stop blaming himself. Why was it up to Liu Qingge to get them to stop being idiots? He was bad at this! There was a reason he spent a bulk of his time fighting monsters. Fights had a clear set of rules he knew, and he understood how he fucked up if he ever did. 

But people? Conversations? Feelings? 

There were no rules for those things. And he always fucked them up. 

Liu Qingge dropped his hand. He wanted to kill something. That something was “the System.” He turned his head away, not quite sure what to do with Shen Yuan’s wet eyes. It was best to give him a moment to gather himself. 

He should move.

Instead, he reached out a hand and pressed it against Shen Yuan’s back to-

Ah. 

Fuck. 

He was going to circulate his shixiong’s meridians, but neither had any cultivation. So now it was just awkward. 

Throat tight, he experimented and rubbed one small circle on his shixiong’s back. He wore too little fabric, and it was too easy to feel his bones. 

To his shock, Shen Yuan leaned into the touch. 

Liu Qingge ignored the way his heart fluttered. 

The strange reaction made him want to leap up and run away. 

He forced himself to stay.

Chapter Text

“...death.”

Two and a half years. Over nine hundred days. Twenty-one thousand hours that Luo Binghe spent flipping between desolate heartbreak and betrayed outrage. Why why why why, he had asked countless times. He had cried, he had screamed, he had broken down, and he had fought. 

All on his own. 

Some nights he would torture himself, force himself to live through the Immortal Conference all over again, to study the expression on his shizun’s face and watch as it turned and shut him out. 

He had agonized over what he had done wrong and why the single person – the only person left who loved him and knew him and cared for him – cast him aside as if he were nothing better than a piece of rotten fruit. 

Death. 

It hurt to breathe. Every single breath was ragged and stripped his lungs raw. Heat boiled the backs of his eyes, and the tip of his nose burned with his disbelief and tears. After all this time, by some divine grace, he was back in his shizun’s arms and he finally had an answer. His heart still sat fragmented in his chest, sharp edges digging into his soul with every single desperate gasp. But…

There was a chance…

A chance he might heal.

“....Shizun…” Luo Binghe whispered, voice breaking. A weight landed softly on the back of his head. His eyes fluttered shut. Tears scorched pathways down his cheeks. He clutched onto Shen Yuan, greedily. What he really wanted was to drag him closer until it no longer was Luo Binghe and Shen Yuan, and instead was just them. “Shizun… did not want to throw this Binghe away?” 

“Oh, Binghe…” The hand on Luo Binghe’s head started to comb through his hair. “No. This master did not want to.” 

Luo Binghe wished he planned the broken sound that escaped his lips. It was rough and pathetic. 

“Oh, my little sheep…” Shen Yuan whispered. “I… am so sorry.” 

Those words weren’t enough to mend these last few years, but it was a start. Luo Binghe wished he had more control over himself. He did not. He was weak, selfish, and greedy. So incredibly greedy. He breathed in a wet, trembling breath. His tongue curled to form words, but instead a sob broke free from him and shuddered his shoulders. 

A soft, hushing sound came from above him. Comfort settled around him like a tentative fog, with a gentle hand combing through his hair and the other rubbing circles into his back.

 It took a while for Luo Binghe to gather himself, to be able to speak the question he needed to ask.  “Shizun… Shizun does not hate this Binghe…?” 

For the first time since this conversation started, Shen Yuan had a hint of a smile in his voice. “No,” he consoled, “No, Binghe. This master could never hate you.” 

It was like taking the pieces of his shattered heart and gradually sewing them back together. 

“Shizun…” Luo Binghe started to speak again, and his voice turned into a wet mess of a sob. He had to take in a shuddering breath, attempting to gain some semblance of control. “Shizun does not think… this Binghe a lowly beast? Undeserving of his shizun’s care?” 

“Binghe,” Shen Yuan admonished. “You are not a beast. You are more than deserving. It is this master who has failed you.” 

“No,” Luo Binghe croaked. He knew he was getting snot and tears all over Shen Yuan’s clothes. He did not have the willpower to stop. There was still so much more he needed to ask. His throat was swollen with emotion, and so many questions wanted to leak through his mouth. He was forced to pick and choose. “Then why did Shizun run? Why did he hide from this Binghe? Why…?” 

The hand on his head stilled.

“I…” Shen Yuan sighed. The petting resumed. “Binghe.”

Luo Binghe rolled just enough to catch sight of his shizun’s expression. It was tight with discomfort. “This one does not understand-” His vision blurred as more tears spilled over. 

A soft tutting sound left Shen Yuan. He used his thumb to clear away some of Luo Binghe’s tears, revealing the quietest of smiles on his lips. “Binghe. What is someone supposed to think when you barge into their room at midnight?” 

That… made sense. Still, Luo Binghe pouted and could not stop himself from bitterly saying, “Shizun called for Qingge.” He spotted the man sitting uncomfortably close to his shizun, and touching him! A bitter jealousy soured his tongue.

“...insolent!” The war god snapped, face reddening. He threw Luo Binghe a glare that he ignored. 

“Binghe,” Shen Yuan sighed, again. “Of course this master was expecting Liu-shidi. We were sleeping together.” 

The floor fell out from underneath Luo Binghe. He stared at his shizun in disbelief. 

On the other side of his shizun, Liu Qingge made a strangled noise. 

Envy and a weak sense of betrayal tore into Luo Binghe. It was such a powerful flare of jealousy he had never felt before. He threw an acidic scowl towards the other man, wanting to tear out his throat. 

“...two beds!” Liu Qingge choked, not noticing the death glare at all. He stared aghast at his shixiong. “Two beds! Shen. YUAN.” 

“What?” Shen Yuan glanced up at him, startled.

Before they could continue down that line of questioning, the little black box on the table started rumbling. His shizun hummed. He leaned forward, plucking it off the table. “That must be for the food. They always get confused…” He manipulated the screen with one hand, and continued to wipe away Luo Binghe’s tears with the other. Most of his attention was on Liu Qingge, though, with a clear question on his face.

Ah.

Just like Shizun to somehow completely miss the obvious. 

“Don’t say it like that!” Liu Qingge said through his teeth, practically a glowing light with his embarrassment. 

Luo Binghe found a smirk on the corner of his lips. Cute, he thought. Then he was startled that he thought it at all. 

“Say what like what? We were sleeping together! What else do you want me to say? We slept together countless times before!”

“Shen. Yuan.” 

Now that Luo Binghe understood the situation, it took just about every single ounce of willpower not burst out laughing. This time the tears in his eyes were from suppressing his giggles. As innocently as he could, he blinked up at Shen Yuan and asked, “Countless times? Yuan-gege and Qingge are so prolific!” 

Shen Yuan stared at Luo Binghe in complete and utter bafflement.

It almost broke him.

“...Luo. Binghe!!!” Liu Qingge cried. He lunged towards him. 

Before the two could start anything, all three of them heard, “...San-ge??”

Both the war god and Luo Binghe froze.

“Meimei?” Shen Yuan asked, startled. He spoke to the black box. 

“San-ge? Can you hear me now?” 

“It’s you!” Shen Yuan exclaimed, unfiltered emotion drenching his voice. His face stretched from tearful joy to uncertainty.

“Yeah, it’s me, dummy! All I see are boogers right now. What show are you watching? It sounds super gay.” 

Many things happened at once. 

The first: Shen Yuan fumbled with the black box, and it fell towards Luo Binghe’s face. The second: Liu Qingge caught the box before it did any damage and stared at it critically.

The third: “Yuan-ge! That’s a man! Like. A real life man!” 

The fourth: Shen Yuan spasmed and tried to grab the phone. Then he froze and realized his shirt was covered in blood. He began to squirm and he called out, “Give me a second!” In his haste to get up, he managed to accidentally throw his cane. He wasn’t strong enough to dislodge Luo Binghe. 

The fifth: Luo Binghe did the only sensible thing in the moment. (It was sensible, alright?) He took off his own shirt and offered it to his shizun. 

It wasn’t that bad. 

In fact, he had another shirt underneath. 

The sixth, and the most mind boggling:

Shen Yuan took off his own shirt. 

There was so much skin. 

There was so much skin. 

Whatever happened after that — well. Luo Binghe’s brain had stopped the second he laid eyes on the expanse of his shizun’s chest. That image was burned inside of his mind, and he would never forget it. Ever. 

He met eyes with Liu Qingge.

They stared at another. 

“…would you shut up? You’re on speaker!” Shen Yuan snapped. 

“You have two men at your apartment, Yuan-ge! You were talking about sleeping with them?!” 

“Don’t say it like that!” Shen Yuan snapped, color flooding his cheeks. 

Ah. Now he gets it?

“Yuan-ge!” His sister whined. “You told me you were going to die a vir-“

The noise Shen Yuan made was extremely undignified. (And, yes. It was extremely adorable.) He slammed the black box, and his sister’s voice cut off. 

“What.” The war god’s voice cracked. 

Luo Binghe grinned. Nothing sobered him up more than complete and utter fucking chaos. All of his earlier pain was just a quiet ache at the moment, retreating until it could all unfold itself later.

“Just.” Shen Yuan threw his hands up in the air. “Hold. On.” 

The black box started vibrating again. 

All three of them stared at it. 

“That’s my sister,” his shizun explained. 

“It is a device that allows long distance communication?” Liu Qingge clarified. 

Luo Binghe raised his eyebrows. He was half expecting the war god to ask, Your sister is a box? He was half considering it himself, if just for the fun of it. 

“A phone. It is a phone. And it’s a video call. Which means we can see her and she will see us, now please, don’t say or do anything. Like. Maybe… not speak at all?” Shen Yuan winced. 

“We’ll be on our best behavior, Yuan-gege,” Luo Binghe said, fluttering his lashes. 

His shizun had an expression that said he would rather jump from the balcony. With a heavy and resigned sigh, he picked up the phone and poked the screen.

“…so much trouble! You best be ready to square up! I’ll be there in fifteen!” 

“You will not!” Shen Yuan snapped. 

“Yuan-ge,” his sister whined. “It’s been two whole days and you went AWOL, and now there’s two men in your apartment?”

“Stop saying it like that,” Shen Yuan sighed. All of his earlier flustered panic disappeared behind a tight and controlled mask. “They’re… friends.”

“Friends, ge? You don’t have friends.”

Shen Yuan winced. “Wow.” 

“What?! You’re the one who got all morbid, saying that you’re just leaving people behind. That there was no point in dragging people down…”

Curiosity won. Luo Binghe moved to sit beside his shizun, and he leaned in to set his chin on his shizun’s shoulder. The audacity of the contact made his heart spasm delightedly. On the front of the phone was a young woman. She was maybe sixteen, and looked exactly like Shen Yuan, if not a healthier and more expressive version. She stopped midsentence, her eyes snapping to Luo Binghe. 

“Hi,” she said, voice turning sugary sweet. 

“Hello,” Luo Binghe smiled at her in turn. 

Once again, his shizun sighed. 

His sister flashed him a look with wide eyes. 

“Shut up,” Shen Yuan groaned. 

“Ge???” His sister cried. “Ge?” 

“Okay. Nope.” He shoved Luo Binghe away and tried to ease up off the floor. 

“I want to see the other one. I saw him for like two seconds.”

“Nope.”

“San-ge!” 

Shen Yuan stilled at the whine in her voice. He flashed Liu Qingge an apologetic look. 

After a moment’s hesitation, the war god nodded and held out his hand. It took him a few moments to angle the phone correctly, and he stared curiously at the face on it. 

“…hi,” the sister said shyly. 

“Hi.” Liu Qingge echoed. His eyes flashed to his shixiong. 

Grinning, Luo Binghe slid across the floor and bumped shoulders with the war god. He leaned in, which resulted in the two of their heads resting together. The sister gave a little giggle at the display. He said, “Hello!” 

“Hi!!”

“We are not doing this,” Shen Yuan frowned. “You saw them. Alright, mei?” 

Ignoring him, his sister waved at the two of them. “Hi!”

“Hello!!” Luo Binghe waved back eagerly. 

Both Luo Binghe and the sister looked pointedly at Liu Qingge. 

Cringing, the war god muttered, “Hi.”

Giggles spilled from the black box. “Are you two really friends with Yuan-ge? Like. For real?”

Luo Binghe thought for a few moments, remembering a term he heard the nurses use. He perked up and said, “Boyfriends!” 

The phone disappeared from their hands in an instant, snatched by Shen Yuan. It was screeching again.

 “Ge?????????!!!!!!!”

His shizun attempted damage control, using the furniture to escape the room. The back of his neck was crimson. He stepped back into the strange room with all the paintings and slammed the door. 

“Get. Off.” Liu Qingge shoved Luo Binghe. “Shameless!” 

He let him, and sank to the ground giggling under his breath. Watching the war god with a smirk, he rested his head in his hand.

They stared at another, with his smile growing with every passing second and the war god’s frown deepening. The next words to leave the man’s mouth was one of the most astounding things Luo Binghe had ever heard in his life:

“Are you alright?”

The question threw Luo Binghe. It knocked off his grin.

Earlier the mood had drastically flipped from him slowly stringing the pieces of his heart back together to the sudden chaos that was Shen Yuan’s sister. Suddenly it was just him and his shishu and a question he had never once expected from the fucking War God of Bai Zhan Peak.

“It is a lot,” Liu Qingge said, as if that explained anything. 

Luo Binghe was at a loss. He didn’t know how to interact with his shishu — not if he wasn’t trying to anger him. Being asked that question… as if his shishu cared… 

What would Liu Qingge even do if he was not alright? What was the point in asking? It’s not as if the war god planned to bring him into his arms and soothe him the way that his shizun had. 

Well. There was only one way to find out, right?

“No,” Luo Binghe said, and found a bit of honesty in his words when he said, “I’m not alright.” 

Liu Qingge nodded, face still impassive and as hard to read as ever. It was a nice face. Sharp, yet delicate. Beautiful. Dark eyes searched for something on Luo Binghe’s face. Were they outlined with some sort of paint? It seemed so. After the war god was satisfied, he abruptly stood. Then he plucked the mugs from the table, and disappeared into the kitchen. 

Sounds like splashing water and scraping ceramic trickled across the room. Beyond the door, Shen Yuan’s muffled voice rose. It was stern and loud — and somehow looser. Less rigid with formality. Ever since they had stepped into this world, it was like his shizun was able to breathe. He let a few of his masks fall away.

 Luo Binge wondered to himself, for a moment, if he was disappointed that his master was so different here; that “Shen Qingqiu” was just an act. He let that sit for a while, and came to a solid decision.

He was not disappointed. 

Warmth unfurled in his chest.The second he was welcomed into the bamboo house, he had been fed crumbs of the real Shen Yuan. It left him greedy, starving, and full of want. He ached to tear through more masks; he needed a buffet. More than anything he wanted to pull every last layer away from his shizun and know the truth of the man that hid beneath it all. 

“Get up,” Liu Qingge ordered. 

Opening his eyes, Luo Binghe spotted the war god standing over him with three mugs. 

Eyes narrowed, Liu Qingge nodded towards the couch. “Move.” 

There were several ways this could go. Luo Binghe decided to humor whatever this was, and pulled himself up on the couch. As he settled down, Liu Qingge set down the mugs and plucked up a blanket. He wrapped it around Luo Binghe, then shoved a mug of tea into his hands. Dumbfounded, Luo Binghe stared down into the tea. 

What?

A moment later, Liu Qingge sighed. He sat down on the table, in front of Luo Binghe, and looked him in the eye. “You did not deserve what happened to you.” 

What. 

“You… care for your shizun,” Liu Qingge said, haltingly, “but that does not take away what you went through. Ask for what you need. You’re a disciple of the Cang Qiong Sect. We’re here to take care of you.” 

Luo Binghe felt his skin tighten with a rush of emotion. His throat clogged. The tip of his nose prickled. 

“Spoiled,” Liu Qingge added, with a frown. “Shameless and insolent. But still under our care.” He wavered. “His care.” 

“Liu-shishu?” Luo Binghe asked, surprised. His vision blurred.

“He may let you cling on to him, I will not.” Liu Qingge threw up a hand, as if to prevent Luo Binghe from launching at him. 

It honestly was a very real possibility. The swell of emotions in his chest startled him. Fresh tears spilled down his cheeks. He hadn’t expected this. He had never expected anything from his shishu. The only thing anyone ever expected from the war god was violence. Luo Binghe felt a little chastened to realize that he was one of those people who saw only one side of Liu Qingge. He had so much more depth to him; more than his battle expertise and his rage. 

A strange new feeling seeded in the pit of Luo Binghe’s stomach. All at once, after all of these years, he found himself hungry for something other than his shizun. His skin prickled. If he were honest with himself, he would admit it scared him. He had depended on one person for so long, with that one person being the scope of his entire world. It was hard to see anyone else, much less let them in. Yet somehow, amazingly, Liu Qingge had managed to shift the balance of his world. He had a foot in the door. 

Was Luo Binghe perhaps encouraging his tears? Maybe. He ducked his chin, and made sure his soft intake of breath was loud and miserable, as an experiment. The cup shook in his hands, and tea sloshed around the sides. 

Liu Qingge let out a strange noise. He sighed, taking the tea away. Then he plopped down beside him on the couch, looking extremely uncomfortable. “Fine.”

Making certain to shrink, Luo Binghe turned a confused glance to his shishu. He trembled his lower lip, attempting to blink away some of his excessive tears. 

With an irritated huff, his shishu said, “I said it’s fine. Come on.” His arms opened up. 

Really? Really? Luo Binghe froze. He hadn’t even been shameless enough to ask for comfort from Ning Yingying. Yet here Liu Qingge, the stiff and indifferent peak lord, was offering a hug. “Why?” Luo Binghe couldn’t help but blurt, shocked. 

Liu Qingge blushed and scowled. “You’re not alright.” As if that explained it. He dropped his arms. “Fine.” 

“No!” Luo Binghe threw himself forward, and somehow found himself afraid to let this opportunity slip by. To his shock, the war god captured him in a gentle hold. He was stiff as a statue. Where Shen Yuan was bony angles and soft limbs, Liu Qingge was lean and taut and full of muscle. 

It took an entire minute for his shishu to lower his arms.

Five more minutes passed before he ran a single, uncertain hand over the back of Luo Binghe’s head. 

In just ten minutes, Luo Binghe was a complete puddle, soaking in comfort from a man he had never even thought about twice before. He did not want to move. Greedy, he silently admonished himself. 

Liu Qingge never asked him to get up or move. Every now and then, a stilted hand would pat his head. 

At one point, the war god sighed. His hand settled on Luo Binghe’s back. “Shameless.” 

There was no real reprimand in that word. 

That hand rubbed comforting circles into Luo Binghe. Incorrigible, he silently agreed. His heart was full of warmth, even as it was fractured and bleeding. He wanted. Oh, how he yearned. 

His selfish, greedy heart had now decided that one impossible thing was not enough. 

Now it needed two. 

Chapter Text

By the time Shen Yuan was able to hang up on his sister, he had a pounding headache. He sank down in his desk chair, not unlike a shrimp with his legs folded, and let his aching head rest in his hands. Rubbing his face, he groaned. Despite nearly thirty minutes of arguing, his sister did not believe him when he told her that Liu Qingge and Luo Binghe were just friends. He spent the majority of that time rejecting his sister’s insistence that she needed to meet them right this second. He barely managed to scrape away with a half-promise to meet at a cafe in a few days. 

(If they were even here in a few days!) 

He sank into his chair, and allowed himself five whole minutes to just sit in silence. There were things he purposely did not think about. Like talking to his sister again. Or the possibility of getting to see her. He crumpled up into a knot of a man and bit his own arm as a surge of emotions burst inside his chest. 

Then he decided to be a grown up and get out of his chair. It was time to crawl back to his “boyfriends.”

Ugh! Why does everyone keep thinking that?!

He’s straight!

(Probably.)

As he reached the doorknob, he stilled at that startling thought. Probably????? What???!

It was too much to unpack. 

Not now. 

Not ever. 

Besides, it did not matter!

Liu Qingge was most likely asexual and Luo Binghe had an entire harem waiting for his return!

(AHHH!! Why was he thinking about those two?!)

Setting his jaw, Shen Yuan tried to secure a modicum of self-control. Then he pushed the door open to a fever dream. 

What? The? Fuck?

Luo Binghe lay on the couch with a blanket resting around his shoulders. His hair was a frizzy mess, probably due to how much it was pet. On the couch with him – underneath him – Liu Qingge sat. The War God of Bai Zhan, the Great Master Liu, was cuddling! Cuddling!! Well. Not so much cuddling as being a stand-in emotional support teddy bear. He was stiff as a dry piece of bamboo, hand awkwardly patting Luo Binghe’s head. His disciple clung to the war god, as if he were the last standing tree in a windstorm. 

The sight made Shen Yuan’s heart constrict. Not in jealousy, but-

He wasn’t sure what. 

It made him happy and tingly and warm and it was fucking weird. 

As Liu Qingge’s eyes snapped to him, Shen Yuan instantly understood if he said anything, he would ruin whatever was happening between the two. So he decided to move on. 

Yes! This is all perfectly normal!!

“Food has arrived,” Shen Yuan said. “Sorry for the wait.” 

So normal!

Luo Binghe stirred. “This disciple can get it!” 

“No, no,” Shen Yuan said, throwing up his hands. “Stay there. I’ll get it.” 

Despite his urging, both of them separated and his sticky disciple was happily trailing after him. To no one’s surprise, Luo Binghe asked about his sister, which Shen Yuan answered reluctantly. He hoped to let the subject drop. Talking about his sister made his heart heavy in a way he couldn’t necessarily define.

 Before long, they had their meal set up on the dining room table with plates and napkins for all three of them. 

Liu Qingge eyed the food suspiciously, while Luo Binghe marvelled at it. 

“Here, Liu-shishu,” he said, cheerfully. He served up a healthy portion to his shishu. 

Very normal. 

“Here, Shizun!” He grabbed his plate. 

“Ah, Binghe, wait,” Shen Yuan said with a wince. “I can’t eat that.” Two pairs of eyes slid to him, questioningly. With a sigh, he explained, “Some foods don’t work well with me. So I have to eat very boring things.” He smiled, and collected his portion of the ordered food. No gluten, no dairy, no spices, and so on and so forth. 

“This Binghe will learn recipes for Shizun to have good food,” Luo Binghe said, determined. 

Shen Yuan smiled. “The list of what I can’t eat is probably longer than the list of what I can. Don’t worry, Binghe. It’s fine.” 

The doe-eyed look he received in turn made his heart pang. 

With a reluctant sigh, he said, “…I’ll put together a list for you, and we can go out shopping for food tomorrow.” He paused, thinking. “That is, if we don’t return to PIDW. Ugh. You two will need a change of clothes. And toiletries.” He frowned. “Hopefully we will return soon.” 

“PIDW?” Liu Qingge asked. 

“Ah.” Shen Yuan’s face heated. He poked at his food. Of all the things that had happened within the last twenty-four hours, he really didn’t want to explain this. “Home,” he offered, and then hesitated. “The other world.” His posture shrank, and he frowned at his food. It was hardly palatable. Even compared to the normal shit that he got at Qing Jing Peak. It was crumbly, dry, and lacked any real flavor. (No, he was not spoiled by a certain protagonist’s cooking!) “There is no easy way to explain this,” he continued, ignoring the eyes that bore into him. He did have to explain. It was either now or later. If he got it over with now, he could hide in his room until the morning. Maybe they would be back in PIDW by then. “…the other world… exists here as a…” He winced. “The best way to say it, is that it exists as a book.”

“A book?” Luo Binghe asked, curiously. He was overly polite again, sitting properly with his thick lashes fanning his eyes. 

“…yes,” Shen Yuan said. 

“Is it a history book?” his disciple probed. Then he perked up. “Is Binghe your favorite character? Is that why there’s so many paintings of him?” 

Shen Yuan felt his face scorch with embarrassment. “Ah-!” He cringed. “Well.” 

Hand slamming onto the table, Liu Qingge stared at them. “What.” 

“Mmhmm, Liu-shishu! There’s a lot of paintings, like that mug I gave you! Right in there!” His cheeky disciple pointed towards the room. 

Shen Yuan stood abruptly. “Binghe! They are nothing like that cup!” 

A curious expression set over his shidi, and he stood while eying the door. 

“No!” Shen Yuan cried. “No one is allowed in that room!” 

“But Shizun,” his disciple pouted. “Liu-shishu’s imagination might run a little wild…”

“Who is imagining?!” Liu Qingge snapped, his face turning red. 

Righteous anger filled Shen Yuan, and he was Shen Yuan, Peerless Cucumber, who spent thousands of hours and a ridiculous amount of cash putting together a clean collection that did right by the characters! An extensive, well-rounded collection that was not focused on their dicks or boobs or anything else inappropriate! Shen Yuan hadn’t realized he started a rant until he took in a big gust of air and threw a fist down atop the table, “-it’s hardly better than that hack of an author. Try finding any merch where everyone has all their clothes! I am not even asking for something historically accurate! Just please, for the love of all that is good, give Binghe a fucking shirt! People are so obsessed with your-!” 

Then he froze.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Shen Yuan dropped down into his chair.

That was very unlike Shen Qingqiu.

If he could choose a point in his life where his body finally gave out, he would choose right then and there. Well. Maybe about five minutes earlier, before he even started the rant. Fuck. Fuck. What would they think of him now? It was one thing being a coward and a liar. Now he was… this? Whatever he was?

Shen Qingqiu was coy and calm and always collected. He was elegant and graceful. 

Flip that on its head, make it a bit scrawny and a bit ugly, and voila! There was Shen Yuan. And he was…

A basket case. A shut in. A burden. Someone who had given up living, and instead just read shitty online serials. And got really upset about said shitty online serials. 

When compared to someone like Shen Qingqiu, he fell short in almost every single aspect. 

He was just… Shen Yuan. 

Head in his hands, he stared down into his lap. He wanted to melt into the floorboards. Maybe someone in the building would start a fire, and he could just disappear in the chaos of the evacuation. Maybe-

“Shizun!” Luo Binghe exclaimed. “That was amazing!”

Shen Yuan flinched and peeked up at his disciple through his fingers. There were stars in Luo Binghe’s eyes, and a large smile on his face. He looked like he just witnessed the moon shapeshifting into a dragon. 

On the other side of the table, Liu Qingge watched him with an open expression. His head was tilted ever so slightly, as if he was able to see a whole new spectrum of colors on Shen Yuan with the right angle. 

“I…” Shen Yuan’s voice broke. He cleared his throat and poked at his food. “It’s… been a long day.” He couldn’t stop himself from tacking on, “Sorry.”

His disciple slid from his spot to scoot closer to Shen Yuan. He paused as he reached out, uncertain. Then he stole one of Shen Yuan’s hands, and held it dearly in both of his own. “Yuan-gege! Shizun!!” He grinned. “Why are you apologizing? This Binghe-“ After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “I really thought that was impressive.” 

Ah. Something about Luo Binghe using “I” made Shen Yuan’s stomach swoop. He shrank. “Uh…” 

“Speak your mind more often,” Liu Qingge told him. “Now eat. Tell us about PIDW after.” 

That was that. 

Huh. 

Shen Yuan’s face felt like a ceramic mask fresh from the kiln. They’re just being nice, his brain supplied, helpfully. They’re just hiding their dislike. He wanted this night to be over. Really, if he had the power to, he wanted to go back in time to Jin Lan City. If he had just stopped and listened, rather than just fucking assume, they would never be here to begin with. Ah! His face would never recover from this debacle, would it? 

“Liu-shishu, try this!” Luo Binghe leaned over and dropped some food onto his plate, with his chin set on his hand. He kept sharp attention on his shishu’s reaction. “What do you think?” 

“Mn.” 

His disciple beamed. 

Yep. This is perfectly normal. 

“This one too, Liu-shishu!” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Shen Yuan saw the war god flash him a meaningful glance. It surmised to: What the fuck? 

This on you!! You deal with it!

Perplexed and only slightly suspicious, Liu Qingge humored the food-tasting. He kept flashing Shen Yuan looks, which he ignored. 

What was he supposed to do? 

There was no harm in… whatever this was! 

Eventually, Luo Binghe started tailoring the food to things that his shishu obviously enjoyed, and started piling up his plate with them.

Liu Qingge looked down at the large pile of food with almost regret. Then he sighed, resigning himself to whatever this new development was, and ate. 

The rest of the evening rolled on, and Shen Yuan kept waiting to be rescued back into the safety of PIDW. It did not happen. Instead, he was forced to sit in his favorite chair, with a big comfy blanket, and talk. He never thought once in his life that he would ever have to explain the Proud Immortal Demon Way to its protagonist and its canon fodder. It was awkward. So awkward that Shen Yuan turned his TV on at some point as an attempt at distraction. 

It did not work.

Quiet music played in the background as Shen Yuan divulged the briefest of summaries of the book. He did not explain the acronym PIDW. He did not mention who the protagonist was. He did not say that it was almost entirely papapa. 

There… really wasn’t a lot he had the face to say, really.

Up until this point, Liu Qingge had stewed in a pensive silence. When he finally spoke, the room hushed. “Have things played out in our world as they did in the book?” 

“A little of yes, a lot of no,” Shen Yuan said, thoughtful. He phrased his next words with care. “Binghe came back sooner in our world than in the book.” 

“This Binghe was thrown into the Abyss there, too?” Luo Binghe asked. His smile was on without a single twitch. There was still pain there. It was difficult to detect, hidden underneath a polite gaze. But it was there. 

Shen Yuan dropped his guilty eyes down into his lap. “Yes. The Abyss is where… Luo Binghe was supposed to become strong, and get a few key items to help him on his journey. The System said it could not be skipped.” 

Neither of them answered, becoming quiet and reflective.

These two were a very dangerous pair. Both of them were too smart and too observant for anything to pass by. He was beginning to learn that his shidi often just let things slide, but he always internalized it. 

Shen Yuan played with some fuzzes on his blanket and pressed his lips into a thin line. “How are you two taking this?” 

“This Binghe…” Luo Binghe pondered, switching to a more informal speech, “I need more time.” He danced between attempting informality with Shen Yuan, and being more respectful to his shishu.

“Mn,” Liu Qingge nodded. He stared down into this mug of tea with a thoughtful frown. 

Shen Yuan mirrored the nod. He ran his fingers through his hair, a luxury he hadn’t been able to afford for years as Shen Qingqiu with the complexities of his hair styles. Breathing out through his nose, he flopped back in his seat and stared up at the ceiling. 

“Shen Yuan,” Liu Qingge waited for his attention. “The System.” 

“The System,” Shen Yuan echoed. 

“It is trying to influence the world to go the way the book did.”

That… wasn’t really a question. Shen Yuan was about to answer, and had to stop. To Liu Qingge, there was still a distinct difference between the world and the book. He stared at the man in front of him. For so long, he had thought of him as a character – well, worse than that. He was background canon fodder. When he thought of his shidi now, his mind no longer went there. He wasn’t quite sure where Liu Qingge fell anymore.

 “Yes,” he answered, cautiously. “I suppose.” 

“Did you…” Liu Qingge frowned. “Did you have a hand in the demonic invasion of the Immortal Conference?” 

Eyes widening, Shen Yuan balked. “No!” 

A bit of tension eased from his shidi’s shoulders, and he nodded. 

No one spoke for a bit. The same thought occurred to them all: he hadn’t had a hand in the Immortal Conference, but he certainly hadn’t attempted to stop it. Shen Yuan stared down at his lap, his heart beginning to sink. All this time, he had looked at each and every single event as inevitable. Events that he would have to prepare for.

He never had considered they might be something he could impact or change. 

Not once had he ever considered PIDW as a world that had already existed – that the System might twist it to match something some stupid hack author wrote. 

It had always just been a web novel. 

“Ling Xi Caves.”

Shen Yuan glanced up at his shidi. “You mean… the qi deviation?” 

“The System…” Liu Qingge cut off, face pinched. “Is that how it happened in the book?”

“No,” Shen Yuan answered, confused. “No. In the book-” His throat dried and he wondered if he should even say any of this. After floundering in hesitation, he finally sighed. What was the point in lying? “In the book, you died.” 

Expression relaxing, Liu Qingge probed, “The System didn’t tell you to save me?” 

“Ah.” Shen Yuan shook his head, still slightly confused. “No, it didn’t.”

There was something almost soft in his shidi’s eyes. “It was you, then. Your choice.” 

Heat settled over Shen Yuan’s face. It wasn’t as if it were entirely selfless! He shook his head, and he said, “I was irresponsible and wasn’t quite certain of what I was doing. I could have ruined your cultivation.” 

“Or I could have died,” his shidi retorted with a raised eyebrow. 

Shen Yuan winced.

“Did the System hurt Shizun for helping Liu-shishu?” Luo Binghe asked, pondering.

“Hm? Oh. No,” Shen Yuan said and shook his head. “It did not. It only seemed to care at first if I acted as Shen Qingqiu, at least until I unlocked OOC – er, out of character. It seems to only care about big plot points.” 

“The Immortal Conference,” Liu Qingge pointed out.

“Yes. And I can’t tell anyone about the System itself or being a transmigrator.” Shen Yuan stopped himself from squirming, as tempting as it was with both of these men staring him down. 

“Because of repercussions,” Liu Qingge added. “Death.” 

“Not in all cases!” Shen Yuan said, lifting up his hands. “Sometimes it’s just a little pain. Other times it is just some point deductions.” 

“Pain?” The war god was starting to look very angry again. “Points?”

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe interrupted. “What happens if your deductions go to zero?”

“...” 

Liu Qingge’s mood soured.

“How does Shizun earn points?” Luo Binghe asked.

Shen Yuan opened his mouth to answer, and his face colored. “I don’t think it’s necessary to get into that.” He waved a hand through the air. “None of this matters. I…” He stared down at his lap, guilt prickling his insides. “I have done what I can with the System, but it isn’t enough.”

“Shizun.” His disciple swept a hand out to gesture all around them. “It is.” 

Shen Yuan shook his head. I could have done more. I should have.

Reading the look on his face, Luo Binghe continued, “Shizun said the System forced him to act like the other Shen Qingqiu. That Shen Qingqiu was cruel to this Binghe. Even when the System was telling Shizun what he could and could not do, he was kind to this disciple. He saved this disciple. Many times! Shizun even got gravely injured-”

“Bah,” Shen Yuan said, throwing his hand in the air to wipe away that memory. As if he wanted to be praised for that again! It was such a stupid move, and crippled his cultivation. Fuck you, Without a Cure! “This m-…” He wasn’t really a peak lord or cultivation master, was he? “This one was simply doing what is expected of a master.”

“Shizun, it wasn’t expected!” Luo Binghe exclaimed. “You threw yourself in front of this disciple! The System tried to tell you what to do-”

“Binghe,” Shen Yuan snapped. “I listened. I…” His voice wavered and he took in a slow breath to garner some control over his voice. “I didn’t try hard enough. I threw you away. I was a coward.” He stopped himself from saying he wasn’t Luo Binghe’s real master, because last time that did not go over well. “We’re done talking about this.” He threw the blanket off his lap, and eased up on to his feet. Fuck. His body hurt. “We should get ready for bed. I don’t have…” His voice trailed off. 

Both the protagonist and the war god had exchanged a look when they thought he wasn’t paying them attention. A look!! 

“What?” Shen Yuan narrowed his eyes. 

“What don’t you have, Shizun?” Luo Binghe asked, sweetly. 

What?

The. 

Fuck!!

Liu Qingge and Luo Binghe weren’t supposed to get in league with each other!! Not against Shen Yuan!! 

“You’re too small,” Liu Qingge said, obviously trying to distract Shen Yuan from their quiet scheming. He was trying to say that the two of them could not fit into Shen Yuan’s clothes. 

Because he had no self-restraint, apparently, Shen Yuan murmured to himself, “You can’t just say that to a man, aiyah…” 

Apparently he hadn’t spoken quietly enough, because his disciple’s eyebrows jumped in shock and his shidi blushed. 

“Your clothes will not fit,” Liu Qingge hastily explained. 

It was far too easy to rile his shidi. “I think my clothes fit me fine, thank you.”

“Shen. Yuan.” Liu Qingge threw him an aggrieved, almost bullied look.

He tried to bite back his smirk. He failed. 

“Yuan-gege,” his disciple said, cheerfully, “the clothes you’re wearing now aren’t all yours.”

“Oh,” Shen Yuan looked at his shirt. He fiddled with the collar, attempting to adjust it. It had slid off to the side, showing off a big section of his shoulder. Scandalous! “You’re right. Thank you, I completely forgot. I’m sorry.” 

“It looks good on Yuan-gege,” Luo Binghe said, with a slight pink on his cheeks. He exchanged another look with his shishu. 

To this one, Liu Qingge’s eyes widened. Then his face went bright red. 

“Since you two are so well acquainted,” Shen Yuan said, dryly. He had no idea what that exchange was for, either. “You two can sleep out here.” Not that there ever had been any other option, really. There’s only one bed? Ha! Not today, Satan. He began moving furniture around the room, which meant both of his guests sprung up and instantly took over. 

Halfway through, with Shen Yuan leaning on his cane, he hit his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Fuck!” 

Luo Binghe jumped.

Blushing, Shen Yuan held up a hand. “No! Not you. Sorry. I forgot to take my meds.” He waved his hands at the two of them, and quickly escaped the room. Frowning, he took stock of the many bottles in his medicine cabinet. Normally, he took his evening meds before eating to help with the nausea. He sighed. 

It’s been far too long since he had to worry about medicine. That was partially why he had all the pain, and why he was feeling weaker and dizzier. Ugh. He took the medication dry, and went to go see what he could do for his surprise guests. 

Staying in his living room would not be a good long term solution.

Fuck.

He better not need a long term solution. 

Chapter Text

Liu Qingge stared out at a vast darkened landscape, with geometric silhouettes cutting up the horizon. Twinkles of light winked in the depths of the night sky, floating like false stars. Unfamiliar sounds echoed all around, even long after the sun had set. The city never seemed to sleep. Strange blocks crawled along flattened roads, people continued to scramble along walkways, and distant unnatural cries haunted the night. When he craned his head up to peer at the stars, the sky was empty. It was terribly lonely. His eyes fell shut. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of all of this – of Shen Yuan, of the alien world, or even of the fact that he might be just a character in a book. 

A character that was supposed to die.

With a slight sigh, he sank against the railing and set his head on his chin. Even if this world was strange, he had to admit it was somewhat beautiful. The same way monsters could be beautiful: every abhorrent limb and twist of their body was perfectly manufactured for violence and survival.

Footsteps drew up behind him. There wasn’t any need to be cautious, but his spine straightened and he shifted ever so slightly to catch sight of whoever joined him. Decades of training, even without his cultivation, did not go away in the span of a few hours. 

“Yuan-gege mentioned not too much time passed here when we were back in our world,” Luo Binghe said. He pretended not to notice Liu Qingge’s guarded behavior, and leaned against the railing beside him. “Hours passed in our world, and here only enough time passed for the blood on Yuan-gege to dry.” He glanced over at Liu Qingge. “But when we were here, time moved differently. A night passed in our world, when only a few hours passed here.” 

Liu Qingge let the observations sink in, and he nodded. 

Setting his chin on his hand, Luo Binghe looked up at him through his lashes. It was almost coy. “What is Liu-shishu thinking?”

That I am not quite sure what game you’re playing, Liu Qingge thought as he narrowed his eyes. Throughout his life, he has had more than a few unwanted advances from other people. He was not blind to the way Luo Binghe watched him. That didn’t make it any less shocking. For as long as Liu Qingge could remember, the disciple had only ever had eyes for one person. Even just that day, Luo Binghe had unabashedly made eyes at his own shizun. Why was he turning that face to Liu Qingge too!? 

Instead of voicing any of that, he only commented, “We need more information.” 

“We’re going to kill it, right?” Luo Binghe asked. He didn’t have to say what it was, both of them were on the same page: they needed to figure out how to get rid of the System and save Shen Yuan. That was no question.

The fact that Luo Binghe included Liu Qingge… well. It made his chest a little tight.

 “Mn.”

A long silence passed between the two of them, with Liu Qingge staring off into the city. He felt a pair of eyes slowly taking scope of him, trailing down the side of his face and down his legs. It was hard to lose himself in his thoughts when he felt those eyes like teasing fingers on his skin. He managed another minute before he drew his eyes back to the man beside him.

“What.” 

The corner of Luo Binghe’s lip plucked upwards in delight. “This one likes seeing Liu-shishu like this.” Heat rushed to Liu Qingge’s cheeks and he straightened, ready to snap. Quickly, Luo Binghe clarified, “Not as… the War God of Bai Zhan, but…” His posture was relaxed in a melted kind of way. He motioned in front of him, to let that fill in his meaning.

Lips pulling into a thin line, Liu Qingge grunted. He understood. Here he wasn’t necessarily a “peak lord.” He was just himself. With a shrug, he said, “You too.” A lot of Luo Binghe had changed over the years; most of what Liu Qingge had ever thought of the boy was… well. Not much at all. Now, standing next to him, he realized that there was so much that he didn’t know. 

What surprised him more was that he wanted to know.

“Mn…” Luo Binghe watched him, seemingly content just to study his face as if it were a masterpiece of calligraphy. 

Liu Qingge wasn’t one to start a conversation, or really carry one out. He sighed out through his nose, feeling his skin prickle with discomfort. He felt off kilter in situations like this; when he had to interact with people he didn’t really know. 

“Can this one be so bold to learn more about Liu-shishu…?” Luo Binghe asked.

“You can ask.” That did not mean he would answer.

Luo Binghe nodded, and he turned to look out at the twinkling lights. He considered his next words, letting the sounds of the city waft around them. “Liu-shishu really likes fighting. What do you like about it?” 

He wasn’t wrong, if only understating it. Liu Qingge considered the question; it was easier without eyes on him. He braced both hands against the railing, and missed the familiar weight of Cheng Luan. He gathered some words together. “The rules make sense.” That made it fun. His lips pulled into a small line, and after some deliberation he added, “People don’t.” 

“Mn.” Luo Binghe nodded. He watched a couple hop out of one of the many moving boxes on the ground and didn’t press for more. 

Liu Qingge would have left it there. Except that for some reason, he didn’t want to. With Luo Binghe focused elsewhere, it was easier for the thoughts to line themselves up. There was no expectation for him to perform a certain way, just an open invitation. It was comforting and encouraging. The words volunteered themselves. “The world never made sense,” he said, and out of the corner of his eye he watched the other man smother a startled look. “Not as a kid. Not even now, really. I was a headache to my mother.” His father never really cared one way or another. But he wasn’t the one that had to deal with navigating the lethal politics of being one of many wives. “Private tutors did not last long. I didn’t learn the way they wanted me to.” He frowned. “And then one day someone put a sword in my hands.” 

It was wooden and a little too big for him at the time. He could practically feel the worn grain against his fingertips. 

“And the world made sense. For once.” Liu Qingge sighed and shifted on his feet. “Everything else fell into place after that.” It was more than that – more than what he would ever get into. There was a point in his life where he was so weak and helpless, he nearly lost everything. He had promised himself that he would never be that weak again. 

“And becoming Peak Lord?” Luo Binghe asked. 

Liu Qingge shrugged. “It was the next step.” 

It had been a goal, something to fight for. Build his cultivation, learn, fight, and get better. 

“What’s the next step now?” Luo Binghe asked. 

Frowning, Liu Qingge tapped his fingers on the railing. “Ascension?” 

Luo Binghe laughed, eyes dancing. It wasn’t unkind. “That sounds like a question. Liu-shishu, what about what you want?” 

There were rules for wanting – rules he didn’t really understand. So it was safer to ignore that part of himself, and push it away. Wanting was terrifying. It made him vulnerable and weak. He could not want. Mouth dry, Liu Qingge shook his head. 

“Do you like being Peak Lord?” Luo Binghe asked, quickly switching to a new line of questioning. 

Liu Qingge never considered that. He liked being strong. He liked being good. He liked having goals and tasks that he could accomplish, with little to no ambiguity. But he did not like other things. The politics. The people. The mess of disciples. 

(If he were honest, he would admit that he liked them. They grew on him, the way someone might start appreciating the way a landslide changed the course of a river.)

For years now, his loyalty to the sect and his position had been him. It had been everything. He was good at being the War God of Bai Zhan. People depended on him to be that. He wasn’t quite sure who he was without it. But did he like it? 

Liu Qingge stared down at his hands. “It’s who I am.”

“No,” Luo Binghe spoke very softly, “Liu-shishu is more than just that. He is very capable. He is an excellent fighter. But he is also someone who knows how to dissect the world and see the hidden parts within it. The way he sees the world is very beautiful. He takes in everything, but only chooses to comment on some things. Ultimately, he tries to uphold justice and do what is right, not because anyone tells him to, but because he chooses to.” His eyes held soft admiration. “He is loyal. He is kind to those that he chooses. He is a good person.”

Cheeks heating, Liu Qingge turned away. He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. A part of him wanted to deny it, and tell him that he was wrong. He couldn’t bring himself to lie. 

As if he knew not to push any further, Luo Binghe switched topics. “What are Liu-shishu’s thoughts on Shizun?”

That question did not help with the flustered warmth of his face. He tried to not immediately give in to violence. It was easier to hide behind the certainty of his strength. Instead, he glowered at the city. “What sort of question is that?”

Still smiling, Luo Binghe leaned closer. His shoulder brushed close to Liu Qingge’s arm. He fluttered his lashes. “He’s different.”

“Shen Yuan is Shen Yuan.” Liu Qingge did not move away. He was tense, but he did not move. 

“What about when Yuan-gege is Shizun?” Luo Binghe asked.

That question draped over Liu Qingge and slowly sunk in. He turned to look over his shoulder, back into the darkened sitting area. Some time had passed since Shen Yuan had disappeared into his room. That left just the two of them. It was different seeing this new side of his shixiong. The man was nothing like Liu Qingge had initially thought. And it wasn’t a bad thing. It was breaking a rock open and seeing all the varying crystals hidden inside. “It’s always been him.” 

Grinning, Luo Binghe bumped their arms together. “This Binghe agrees! He is eager to learn more about him, too!” 

With a heavy blush, Liu Qingge was certain he responded to that. He wasn’t quite sure what he said. Luo Binghe was too close, and it was making his chest tight in a way that usually only Shen Yuan caused, and now it was too much. He stormed back inside and mentioned something about going to sleep. There were two places set up on the floor: each with their own pillow and a mass collection of blankets. Shen Yuan had many comforts in this world; plush chairs, thick blankets, over-stuffed pillows, and so on and so forth. It really was a wonder how he adapted so well to life in the other world.

Stiff, Liu Qingge chose a bed and laid down to wait until he passed out.

There was a slight issue: the pants he was wearing were not meant for sleeping. He had only worn them for a few hours, and he was very done wearing them. Not that he would ever even dare such impropriety as taking them off. 

By the time Luo Binghe closed the door to the balcony and settled into his sleeping spot on the floor, Liu Qingge briefly felt like breaking everything. 

The pants were too tight. 

He was never going to fall asleep. 

Every little noise grated. Some device quietly hummed somewhere in the kitchen. There was another slight ticking somewhere else. Annoying. Liu Qingge grit his teeth. He had slept in worse conditions than this. Here, he was practically spoiled with comfort. 

Time crawled. 

He gave up even attempting to sleep, and tried meditating. 

It worked for the better part of an hour. 

“...Liu-shishu?” 

Liu Qingge withheld a sigh.

“...how offended would you be if this Binghe took off his pants?” 

A choked sound threatened to slip from his lips. Liu Qingge twisted on the floor so his back was to the other man, ignoring the way his skin flared with embarrassment. “Why are you asking?” 

“Liu-shishu can’t sleep either, and this one thinks it may be because of… similar discomforts,” Luo Binghe spoke in a low, rough whisper. 

He needed to stop speaking because that voice hit somewhere in Liu Qingge that he was very apt at ignoring. Until now. “Whatever.” 

“...so Liu-shishu will not be uncomfortable?” 

“Luo. Binghe!” Liu Qingge snapped into a sitting position and shot him a glare. “Shut. Up. Do what you wish. Now sleep.” He flopped back down and barely resisted the urge to hide under the blankets. 

“Thank you, Liu-shishu!” the other man whispered. 

There was the very awkward noise of a zipper. Then shuffling fabric. 

Liu Qingge’s heart relocated in his ears. His hands knotted around his blankets. The last time his face was this warm, it was back in that cave full of succubis, and it wasn’t the naked demons setting him off. 

With a happy and relieved sigh, Luo Binghe murmured, “Good night, Liu-shishu.” 

His heartbeat pounded in his fingertips. Liu Qingge did not answer, not trusting his voice. He wasn’t even sure what he would say. There was nothing to say. He went back to meditation. 

The pants were really uncomfortable. 

Two hours after they were supposed to go to bed, Liu Qingge was considering all manner of destruction. He worked his way through all the items in the sitting area, and rated them on two different categories: how difficult it would be to break them, and how satisfying it would be to do so. Despite Luo Binghe’s drawn out breaths, he doubted the man was actually asleep. Between Liu Qingge’s fidgeting, his half restrained sighs, and flipping back and forth, he would be surprised if anyone else could sleep at all. 

At one point he gave up and sat up to meditate.

After about twenty minutes of that he considered arson. Then he decided it would not be anywhere near as satisfying as breaking things with his hands. 

Liu Qingge ran his fingers through his hair, attempting to alleviate some of the tension in his shoulders. 

That’s when he heard a thump in Shen Yuan’s room. 

He stilled. 

Moments later, the door to the bedroom slammed open and Shen Yuan burst out of his room. He tripped over his own feet, and caught himself by slamming into the far wall. 

Liu Qingge was on his feet in seconds, and he was not at all surprised to find Luo Binghe standing beside him. 

(Don’t. Look. Down!)

With a small noise, Shen Yuan tore into the bathroom. The lid of the toilet seat hit with a sharp clang, and then the sound of him retching filled the silence of the apartment. 

“Water,” Liu Qingge told Luo Binghe. He walked after Shen Yuan, following him into the bathroom. His finger brushed the light switch, and he tugged a towel from one of the many drawers. After he ran it under some water, he slid into an (uncomfortable) crouch beside Shen Yuan. Out of habit, he reached out and placed his hand on his back. 

Then he remembered that they had no cultivation. 

Shen Yuan gasped, the entirety of his body shaking, “Ugh, ew…” His skin was pale and thin. The circles under his eyes were more pronounced. He looked miserable. “Qingge,” he groaned, without looking up. “I… am fine. Just…” 

Whatever else he was going to say was interrupted by another round sickness. 

Qingge. 

Shen Yuan… He knew who was next to him without even looking. He had said Qingge. 

Just like how he only says Luo Binghe’s name. 

Qingge, Qingge, Qingge…

“Only one bathroom. J-Just… close the door. Leave me. I’m sorry.” 

Liu Qingge snapped back to the present. He rubbed a circle between Shen Yuan’s shoulder blades. He still wore Luo Binghe’s shirt. Except-

No pants. 

Why?!

Is everyone-

“Liu-shishu?” 

At the doorway and very pantsless, Luo Binghe held a cup of water. He watched Shen Yuan with terrified worry. 

“I’m… fine!” Shen Yuan said, as he gagged into the toilet. It was very convincing. 

“Blanket.” Liu Qingge jerked his chin to his shixiong. “Tea. Any to settle a stomach.” 

“Yes, Liu-shishu!” Luo Binghe said. He placed the water and he left the doorway. 

“I’m sorry…” Shen Yuan murmured, sinking down as much as he could with his head in the bowl. 

“Stop apologizing.” 

It had been something Liu Qingge had noticed — the more Shen Yuan was himself, and the more he let his walls come down, the more he apologized. As if he were apologizing for his existence. Liu Qingge hated it. 

Masquerading as the Qing Jing Peak Lord, Shen Yuan was confident and coy. He still had a difficult time allowing others to care for him, even in the case of Without a Cure, but he never apologized just for existing. 

Liu Qingge had moved from back rubs to threading his fingers through silky, short hair. He froze for only half a heart beat. Fuck. He blamed Luo Binghe and his fucking head pats. Then he blamed his stupid mortal body. It needed far more sleep than he was used to! If he hadn’t been exhausted, or if he hadn’t awkwardly tried comforting Luo Binghe earlier-

On the ground, Shen Yuan shifted. It was a small thing, but it made his body press against Liu Qingge. He was so small and shaking all over. 

The two of them did not speak. 

Warmth swelled in Liu Qingge’s chest. He wanted to kiss this man. (Not right now, obviously, but…) It was a need. As much as he needed to take a breath of air, or eat, or sleep – the need to kiss Shen Yuan was powerful and strong and…

Very, very wrong. 

It was disrespectful. 

It was…

Shen Yuan murmured something about it being over, and he closed off the toilet and flushed it. He was still trembling. Confusion filled his eyes as he blinked owlishly at the damp towel offered to him. His hands shook too much to even properly hold it.

Fighting a smile, Liu Qingge cleaned his face for the second time that day. 

I want to kiss you.

Luo Binghe came back with the blanket just in time to help Shen Yuan wash out his mouth. Soon his shixiong was wrapped up in a blanket, murmuring exhausted apologies.

When he slipped and got far too close to hitting his head on the corner of the cabinet, Liu Qingge lifted him up in his arms. There was barely even a mumble of protest. His shixiong’s head rolled, and his hair tickled Liu Qingge’s neck. 

The blanket was wrapped around Shen Yuan’s shoulders, but not… all of him. 

So one of Liu Qingge’s hands slid across the smooth, bare skin of his legs.

The warmth from earlier turned into a loud burn that smoldered in the pit of his stomach. Don’t. Look. Liu Qingge scorned himself. Be. Respectful. 

When he turned, he caught Luo Binghe’s expression. There was a powerful passion in his eyes as his gaze slid up the length of his shizun’s leg and settled on Liu Qingge’s hand. 

Disrespectful, Liu Qingge almost croaked. He could not be so hypocritical. Instead, he cleared his throat and moved past. He focused on the steps it took to get to the bedroom, and not on how his shixiong’s breath teased his skin.

Now his pants were too tight for an entirely different reason. 

He laid the smaller man down on his bed, and tucked him in. “Can you drink tea?” 

“Stay,” Shen Yuan told him, catching his wrist.

Liu Qingge’s heart pounded. Each beat resounded in every single fiber of his being. The tips of his fingers numbed. 

“The bed is big enough,” Shen Yuan said, blinking. “Just stay. Binghe can, too.” 

The bed was rather large. All three of them would be able to lay in it without so much as touching. Why did a single man have so much space for himself? It just made Shen Yuan look even lonelier.

Wakefulness seemed to thread into Shen Yuan, and he blushed. “I… don’t want to wake you guys if I get sick again. You won’t have to listen to me hurling if you’re in here.”

Following that line of thought, if they shared a bed Liu Qingge could wake if his shixiong got sick again and help him to the bathroom. It diminished the possibility of him falling and hurting himself in his haste.

“Besides, neither of you seemed comfortable. ...had you slept at all? You seem tired. I’m sorry. The bed is better. It’s really nice, actually. Though, you might think it’s too soft. I-If…” Shen Yuan swallowed. “If you’re not comfortable…”

“Shut up. Can you drink tea?” Liu Qingge demanded, his skin reddening. 

“Mn.” 

Luo Binghe delivered the tea, and both of them piled up pillows so Shen Yuan could sit up. With the warm cup in his hands, he still seemed half asleep. His hair was an adorable, frizzy mess atop his head. 

I want to kiss you.

“Yuan-gege?” his disciple asked.

Shen Yuan took a sip of tea, and made a curious sound. 

“Can I look through your closet?” Luo Binghe asked. “For some pants. I know we said your clothes won’t fit, but maybe there’s something?” 

Eyes dropping, Shen Yuan started to answer. Then his eyes widened and he started choking. He waved both of them off as both they jerked towards him. “Fine! Fine! Go. Go. I’m fine!” His face and neck were entirely red. 

Don’t. Look-

Luo Binghe had strong legs. That much was to be expected. Most cultivators had strong legs. There was nothing special about those legs. The defined muscle of his calves and the sharp lines up his thighs – none of that was new or interesting. Definitely not. And the shorts. It was just a short and small version of pants. Not special. Especially not with the way that the thin fabric clung. There was no mistaking what it clung to. Liu Qingge’s mouth dried. Heat scorched through him. He barely stopped himself from making some sort of noise.

To his utter horror, he lifted his eyes and found Luo Binghe watching him. 

The tiniest of smirk’s quirked the other man's lips. Satisfied, he turned and disappeared into the closet.

Don’t-

Liu Qingge tore his gaze away too late. The image of Luo Binghe’s retreating ass played over and over in his head. He fought to retain any semblance of calm and control. 

On the bed, Shen Yuan was having his own crisis. He murmured very quietly, “Heavenly pillar…” 

If Liu Qingge admitted he heard that, he possibly might qi deviate. Even if he did not currently have any cultivation, his body would figure out how.

There was a long, drawn out silence as Luo Binghe searched the closet. 

Liu Qingge did not know what to say. He wanted the awkward, stifling air to release. Unfortunately for everyone, he had no conversational eloquence to do so. So he suffered, quietly embarrassed.

A while passed before Shen Yuan broke the silence, staring into his cup. “It was my medication.” He winced, guilt tucking his shoulders up towards his ears. “It’s hard getting used to all of this again. I was supposed to take it before dinner. It’s powerful stuff.”

Frowning, Liu Qingge finally met his eyes. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you guys, or cause-“ 

He glared at him. “If you’re going to apologize, don’t.”

“But I-“

“No.” 

The expression on Shen Yuan’s face shifted from guarded guilt to an almost frustrated smile. “No?” 

I. Want. 

“No.” Liu Qingge confirmed. “Done?” 

“That’s it?” his shixiong asked. “Just ‘no,’ and we’re moving on?” 

“Yes?” Liu Qingge raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh, I get a ‘yes’ now?” Shen Yuan had a real smile now, and seemed more awake. 

To. Kiss. You. 

“What else needs to be said?” Liu Qingge asked, swallowing around the lump in his throat. 

“You can’t just say ‘no’ and have the conversation be over,” Shen Yuan retorted. 

Liu Qingge raised another eyebrow, and crossed his arms. He absolutely could, and he would. Case in point. 

As the silence drew out, Shen Yuan lifted a hand to cover his laugh. He looked up at Liu Qingge, eyes glittering like stars. 

Liu Qingge could not breathe. 

They stared at another for a second too long.

As if he were shy, Shen Yuan dropped his eyes.

“You want a conversation, Shen Yuan?” Liu Qingge grabbed his wrist, pulling it away from his mouth, and leaned in. They were close now. He stared the other man dead in the eye. “You are not unwanted.” For a moment, he let those words sink in. Shen Yuan’s eyes widened. “You do not need to hide yourself. Your illness isn’t everything you are. Who you are, all that you are, is all that you need to be. So stop. Apologizing.” 

The smile dropped from Shen Yuan’s face and he stared at Liu Qingge, aghast. He started blinking very rapidly with the shine in his eyes growing. His jaw set. He swallowed. “You… you can’t just say things like that.”

“Why?”

“B-Because…” Shen Yuan swallowed, again. 

And for a second his eyes dropped to Liu Qingge’s lips. 

The inferno that followed nearly overtook Liu Qingge. His body screamed to close the distance between them. He ached. His mouth tingled with expectation. 

Shen Yuan licked his lips.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement. He dropped Shen Yuan’s wrist, and pulled back. The flutter of his shixiong’s heartbeat left an echo on his fingertips. He cleared his throat. To underline what he said before, he threw Shen Yuan a scathing look. “Stop apologizing.” Then he acknowledged Luo Binghe, who stood by the door. 

The disciple had that look in his eyes again. Hunger. His eyes danced between the two of them, dark and wanting. Then it cleared. He smiled and stepped across the room, offering a piece of folded fabric to Liu Qingge. “I found something, Liu-shishu! They’re still a little small, but they’re comfier than what we were wearing. See?” 

Oh. 

The pants Luo Binghe wore were not any better than before. 

It was almost worse. 

The fabric was thin, and clung to his skin. Every single swell, curve, and line was well defined in the low light of the bedroom. 

A quiet, strangled sound escaped Shen Yuan. 

Luo Binghe, hiding a satisfied smile, pushed the fabric into Liu Qingge’s hands. 

Changing into these would be worse than just taking off his current pants… right?

His fingers twitched. 

Would they look at him the same way… if he wore it? 

The thought made his skin turn to cinder. He stiffened. 

Luo Binghe moved on. As he passed, their shoulders brushed and fingers trailed across his hip. It was sly enough to easily be excused as an accident. 

It wasn’t. 

Soft voices sounded behind Liu Qingge as he stared down at the pants in his hands, indecision warring within him. Hours ago, he was abhorred and uncomfortable by the clothes he was stuffed into. Now he was considering something highly inappropriate. It should be outrageous. 

Liu Qingge made a decision. 

He left the room, and stepped into the bathroom. 

In a few short moments, the uncomfortable pants were on the counter and he wore a tight but stretchy material. It was soft and light, and he sighed in relief to have them on. His stomach flipped as he reached for the doorknob. Then he ignored it.

At least he wore pants. Right?

He would ignore the offer to share the bed, and sleep out in the living room. Then he would rise before the others, and change back. There was no need-

As he turned out of the bathroom, Luo Binghe was right there. The man took half a step back to prevent them from running into another. “Liu-shishu,” he said, eyelashes fluttering over his cheeks, “This one moved your things to the bedroom. You have the middle.” 

Liu Qingge’s throat tightened. He froze.

There was a heady look in Luo Binghe’s eyes. His eyes slid down Liu Qingge, for a second, before glancing back up. He searched his expression, as if asking for permission. Whatever he saw made his lips curl in pleasure, and he dragged his eyes down Liu Qingge’s body. 

It was highly inappropriate.

It was disrespectful.

It was shameless.

Liu Qingge felt his breath catch. 

“This Binghe is glad that his shishu is comfortable,” Luo Binghe purred in a low, sultry tone.

Tingles ran up Liu Qingge’s arms. He opened his mouth to retort, and found that his voice had decided to stop working. 

Luo Binghe finally looked back up. The heat of his expression softened. “This Binghe will let his shishu get comfy in bed, first.” 

With a jerky nod, Liu Qingge stepped past him.

This time, Luo Binghe caught Liu Qingge’s hip. He stared into his eyes, turning him ever so slightly so that their faces were close. “Liu-shishu.”

“What?” Liu Qingge tried snapping, but his voice came out too airy. 

“This Binghe might not sleep well,” he murmured, a playful air curling his words. Behind his light and teasing smile, there was something heavy and ugly. Pain. “Liu-shishu should not try to touch him if… this Binghe has a troubling dream.” 

The heat sapped away, and Liu Qingge nodded. He searched Luo Binghe’s eyes, until the man turned his face away. There was something there. “Is there something else I can do?” 

Luo Binghe didn’t turn to look at him, even as his lips filled with a fake smile. “Liu-shishu is too generous to this Binghe… do not worry. Just leave this one be. Hopefully he does not disturb your sleep.” 

Frowning, Liu Qingge stalled. That must be the reason why the sticky disciple didn’t jump at the chance to sleep next to his shizun. If he were afraid of acting out from nightmares, then there’s the likelihood he would really hurt Shen Yuan. Uncertain of what to do, Liu Qingge reached up and patted Luo Binghe’s head. Then he turned and escaped into the room.

To the bed that he was going to share.

With Shen Yuan.

(And Luo Binghe.) 

How did he get to this point?

Chapter Text

Sharing a bed with his shizun and shishu should have been a dream. Back in his own world it would have been. Here, though, Luo Binghe worried. He did not have control over the dream realm. That meant that all the nightmares he had trained to hide away had full control here. 

As Liu Qingge methodically slipped into the bed, Luo Binghe watched with quiet fear curling underneath one of his lungs. His fingers twitched with unease. He could only distract himself so much by the pants his shishu wore or even by the fact that his one shizun didn’t wear any. He wondered if his shizun thought of that fact as a handsome man slid into bed next to him. Neither looked at each other, playing some silent game of flustered ignorance.  

Shen Yuan finished his tea and stared into the empty cup. Sleepiness overtook him all at once, and in moments Luo Binghe was at his side. He relieved the mug from his shizun’s weak grip, and rearranged the pillows so he could glide back down into a more comfortable position. His eyes were heavy lidded as he searched Luo Binghe’s face. A wrinkle formed between his eyebrows, and he asked, “Will Binghe be okay?” 

Startled, Luo Binghe smiled reflexively at his shizun. It was too bright and forced. The Qing Jing Peak Lord could both be so masterfully observant and completely oblivious all at once. Somehow he always managed to notice the wrong things, and worse, interpret them incorrectly. 

Just as he misinterpreted now. “I thought you and your shishu were…” Shen Yuan’s question was eaten up by a yawn. One of his hands slid up and trailed over the side of Luo Binghe’s head. Fingers tangled in his hair. “I thought you were getting along.” 

“We are, Shizun,” Luo Binghe said, voice low. His heart was somewhere underneath his tongue. The simple gesture of affection had his knees weak, and he was seconds away from collapsing next to the bed and burying his head in his shizun’s chest. “This disciple is not worried about sleeping next to his shishu.” It was so hard to cut the habit of being respectful to his shizun. For years he had always thought that he had finally done something right, that he had proven himself and somehow managed to earn the affection of his scornful master.

Now, it was hard to wrap his brain around the fact that he hadn't earned it.

Shen Yuan had just… given it to him. 

The realization left him floating in a pool of uncertainty. Everything he thought he knew he needed to reconsider. Even thinking as far back as the early days, when Shen Yuan was locked in what he could or couldn't say. The man had still accepted punishment in order to treat Luo Binghe with kindness. 

It made his heart a mess. 

The hand on the side of his head dropped. Shen Yuan looked moments away from drifting away. “This… master is here,” he murmured. “He is here for… his Binghe…” Whatever else he tried to say, it disappeared as sleep finally won. 

Luo Binghe watched him. He reached out a hand, wanting to push some of his shizun’s hair away from his face. His hand stilled. How could he ever dare? As lowly and as dirty as he was? His fingers curled. Then he startled when he realized another pair of eyes watched him. 

In the low light, Liu Qingge’s expression was hard to discern. He did not comment on his actions. “Sleep.” It was both a demand and an invitation. 

With a nod, Luo Binghe left his shizun's side. As much as it pained him to leave a dirtied dish, he set the tea cup aside. Then he wandered around the bed, using a hand to help trace his steps along the foot of it. These new eyes of his did not see well in the dark. In fact, they hardly saw at all. Even with the low light at his shizun's beside, everything was more blobs and blurry edges than sharp lines. He made it to his side of the bed, slid underneath his covers, and stared up at the ceiling. 

He silently resolved not to sleep. That would be best. He would close his eyes and meditate throughout the evening until morning came. 

He failed.

He wasn’t sure how far he made it through the night before he woke up in a cold sweat, fighting to breathe. 

Terror blinded him. His mind was a mess of memory and dreams. There was a creature hot on his heels ready to sink its teeth in the soft flesh of his stomach. It had already gotten his heel, and he was limping. His blood left a trail. He needed to stop the bleeding, and he needed to get away, but he couldn’t, he-

“Luo Binghe, you’re safe.”

A terrible song filled the air. Its notes were cackles and eerie howls – the sound of beasts on a hunt. He only knew their names and weaknesses because of his shizun. (His shizun who threw him down here. Because he was unwanted. Because he was a beast. Because he was a demon.) It was one thing to learn about a creature from a book, and another to be faced with twenty of them. They toyed with him, tearing small chunks off the back of his calves and chasing him down unknown paths. Panic ate all sense and he hadn’t realized that they were herding him straight to a dead end.

He was thirsty and hungry and alone and-

“Binghe. Deep breaths. One.. two… three…” 

He was dirty. He was unwanted. Was there any real reason to fight? His shizun had said that demons could be good or bad, but he threw Luo Binghe away. That meant he was bad, didn’t it? That meant that he didn’t deserve to live. If his shizun-

Arms wrapped around him. 

Luo Binghe choked on a scream, and tore his fingers into the flesh of the beast that-

“Fuck! Binghe. You’re safe. Breathe. You’re safe.” 

His vision cleared.

It was Liu Qingge.

One of his hands braced the back of Luo Binghe’s head, and the other secured the small of his back. He kept repeating calming instructions in his ear, guiding him back to the waking world. 

“Breathe,” Liu Qingge whispered. “You’re safe. You’re home.”

Tears spilled into Luo Binghe’s eyes. He clutched on to his shishu. It was tight and greedy. All of his strength poured into that single hold. It wrenched him out of the horrors of his memories, as if he had been plucked from the icy depths of a frozen lake. He gasped and tried to catch his breath. 

Liu Qingge did not complain. He continued to murmur into Luo Binghe’s ear, not once hushing him or telling him to stop crying. They were promises of safety. Promises of being loved. Why would Liu Qingge say such things? He was a brute. He was cold and distant. The only thing he ever cared for was fighting.

(Didn’t he have a sister?)

As quietly as he could, to not wake his shizun, Luo Binghe broke. All the pieces of himself that he had forced into some semblance of normalcy came apart. He was a child again, in the arms of his mother who always smelled of soap and dirt and home. He soaked the front of his shishu’s jacket. He trembled and choked on soundless sobs.

But he also felt safe.

When was the last time he had ever felt safe?

Luo Binghe did not expect to fall back asleep.

The last thing he remembered was Liu Qingge easing the both of them back down on the bed, and running a hand through his hair. “You’re not dirty,” he whispered. “You’re wanted. You’re safe, Binghe. You’re safe and you’re home.”

Luo Binghe woke with his face buried in someone’s neck and holding someone’s hand. Their fingers were threaded together. They had been that way long enough for the tips of his fingers to go numb. His eyes peeled open. Dried tears crusted his lashes. His face felt swollen and his eyes puffy. 

But he was rested. 

The shades on the windows completely blocked out all the daylight, so it was difficult to tell what time of day it was. Luo Binghe did not want to move to find out. If he moved, then Liu Qingge might push him away. And right now, he was dusted with warmth and comfort. Upsetting that seemed like a crime. 

“You’re awake,” Liu Qingge accused, voice in a low whisper. 

Luo Binghe smiled, and did not answer. His nose brushed against his shishu’s neck and his eyes fluttered shut. He took a quiet and long breath in. He smelled the salty sprinkling of sweat, along with some lingering perfume. Under that, it was wholly Liu Qingge. He was beginning to really love that smell.

“Binghe.” 

When did Liu Qingge start referring to him so casually? It made him giddy. 

“Help.” 

The request surprised Luo Binghe. With a sigh, he opened his eyes and, very slowly, he moved. He pushed up onto his elbow and rested his chin on his hand. He spotted the “problem” immediately.

While he had smothered Liu Qingge on his left, with his face buried in his neck, another koala had clung to his shishu’s right. 

Shen Yuan was behind that hand that held onto Luo Binghe, his thumb twitching every now and then. Both of their hands rested on his shishu’s stomach. His cheek was smashed against Liu Qingge’s shoulder, and he had a leg thrown over him. It made Luo Binghe’s heart swell. He flashed his shishu a confused glance. “This one-”

“Cut the shit,” Liu Qingge hissed, face red. “Please.” 

Grinning, Luo Binghe shrugged. “This Binghe thinks that… his shishu will just have to suffer.” 

“Binghe.”

With a pointed yawn, he dropped back down and shamelessly snuggled back in.

To his shock, Liu Qingge did not push him away.

Instead, his shishu sighed reluctantly. 

Shen Yuan was like a beloved grumpy cat. If that cat decided to deem you worthy of a pillow, how could you ever anger the gods by waking him up and pushing him away? The answer was: you didn’t. You always let your body wither away first before you even dared to move. 

Besides, Luo Binghe was greedy. His thumb traced lightly over his shizun’s hand. He stole warmth from his shishu. It was a dream. Safe. Home. Wanted. Those words repeated in his head. He dozed. 

A strangled sound from Liu Qingge woke Luo Binghe. His eyes flashed open just in time to catch his shishu’s head roll back, face tight as if in pain. He grit his teeth, with his eyebrows knitted together. The entirety of his face was bright red. Luo Binghe used his arm on his shishu’s chest to leverage himself up, wondering what was hurting him. As soon as he stirred, his shishu tried folding away his reaction into a meditative calm. 

Liu Qingge lay with his arms at his sides. It was, of course, an extremely disciplined position to sleep in. Even after an entire night of rest, his braided hair was hardly mussed. One of his eyes cracked open, and he glared at Luo Binghe disapprovingly. 

Still sleeping, Shen Yuan still clung to Liu Qingge-

Ah.

Unable to help his own glee, Luo Binghe smirked. 

His shizun had thrown off some of his blankets in his sleep and moved closer. At some point, he had hooked his leg around one of Liu Qingge’s. His hips sandwiched his shidi’s arm to his side. There was only a thin layer of fabric, a delicious pair of very revealing shorts, separating the natural morning reactions of someone’s body and Liu Qingge’s arm. Not to mention, the large shirt Shen Yuan wore, Luo Binghe’s shirt, had ridden up his torso. A lot of skin was on display. 

Luo Binghe knew for a fact that his shishu hadn’t been in pain earlier. He was holding back a reaction. 

The thought sent a delighted chill up his spine. 

Heat slowly simmered in his gut. He had seen the way his shizun and shishu looked at each other, and he wanted them to act on it. He had to be careful and delicate with his pushes. Right now, if they woke Shen Yuan, his shizun might lose too much face. 

“What.” Liu Qingge glared at Luo Binghe.

“Just thinking about breakfast,” Luo Binghe lied, sweetly. He turned demure eyes towards his shishu. “Is something hurting Liu-shishu? This one apologizes…” 

Face an impressive crimson, Liu Qingge narrowed his eyes. “Binghe.”

Luo Binghe wondered how far he could push his shishu before he snapped. Grabbing at him hadn’t done anything so far. Neither had cuddling. When would his shishu decide that it was too much, that he was too much, and push him away? 

“I’ll help,” he said, smiling. 

As he moved, he couldn’t stop himself from patting his shishu consolingly. He plucked his pillow, mostly unused throughout the night, and crawled off the bed. With care, he tiptoed around the bed and leaned over his shizun. 

His heart warmed. 

Before the Immortal Conference, Luo Binghe’s favorite time in the day was the morning. He got to see his shizun in a way no one else ever did. It was before his shizun was awake enough to pull on all of his masks, with his hair messy and his expression still half asleep. As Luo Binghe reached over, he felt his heart begin to hop between his ribs. Touching his shizun always felt so bold, and it was no different now. He drew his fingers around a delicate wrist and lifted his arm off Liu Qingge.

“Slow,” Luo Binghe murmured. 

With the expert care of surgeons, both Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge managed to get out of bed without waking Shizun. In his shishu’s place, Shen Yuan clutched tight onto a pillow. Luo Binghe smiled, and tucked the blankets up and around his shoulders. Then he escaped from the room, following his shishu out to the seating room. He gently shut the door behind him. 

As his shishu disappeared into the bathroom, Luo Binghe rushed into the kitchen to prepare some tea. There was a large learning curve on preparing tea in this world. It was nothing like he was used to. A strange kettle was hooked into the wall; with a press of a button, the water heated to a boil. 

Dozens of different types of tea filled the cabinets. Some were pre-packaged into tea bags, others left loose in careful containers. After perusing through the different types, he found a suitable tea for the morning. 

Liu Qingge came back out of the bathroom.

To Luo Binghe’s shock, he hadn’t changed back into his other pants. 

“There’s nothing to eat, right?” Liu Qingge asked.

“N-No.” 

Liu Qingge straightened, as if surprised by the flustered response. His ears turned red, but the smallest of satisfied smiles quirked the corner of his lips. It was gone in an instant. “Let’s figure out the phone.” 

“Mn!” 

In a few minutes, both of them sat on the couch with the phone between them. Liu Qingge had disappeared back into the bedroom to snatch it from the nightstand, and he had used Shen Yuan’s face to unlock it. Now, the two of them perused through different breakfast options. 

Luo Binghe tried his luck and scooted closer until his thighs brushed his shishu’s. His heart pounded. He forced his face to remain clear as he focused on the food on the screen. 

Beside him, his shishu tensed slightly. His thumb paused. Then a moment later, he continued. The worst part about deciding what to eat for breakfast was that neither really knew what Shen Yuan could or couldn’t eat. So they decided to get something similar to what he had chosen the night before. 

Food ordered, they set the phone aside and sat in amicable silence. 

The mug warmed the palms of Luo Binghe’s hands. He leaned back against the couch, thigh still pressed to his shishu, as he turned his attention towards the large sliding glass door. Morning light filtered into the seating area. A slight fog clung to the air, turning the morning into a cozy gray haze. He felt eyes on him. 

“Nightmares from the Abyss?” Liu Qingge asked.

Luo Binghe dropped his eyes into the cup. Pieces of the previous night trickled into his mind. He had the vague recollection of trying to claw apart his shishu, and his face stretched in a mix of shock and horror. “Did this beast hurt-?” 

“No,” Liu Qingge said with a frown. Then he amended, “Yes. Nothing that matters.” He waved away his concern, and continued, “You warned me. I did it anyway.” 

I did it anyway. 

Luo Binghe felt as if he were tethered by a single thread. It threatened to snap at any moment. He was half convinced that he might wake up at any moment and find himself back in the Abyss. That everything leading up to this moment was nothing but a wishful hallucination.

“...why?” Luo Binghe watched his shishu, eyebrows tightening together. “Why… are you…” Being so nice?

There was a twitch on Liu Qingge’s lips, like he almost smiled. He dropped his gaze, unable to meet Luo Binghe’s eyes whenever the conversation slid into the dangerous path of emotions. “What did I say? You are a disciple of the Cang Qiong Sect.” 

“You… don’t even treat your own disciples like this,” Luo Binghe pointed out, warily. He had the irrational fear that if he pointed this out, his shishu would make that realization as well and stop. Even with that potential threat, Luo Binghe selfishly didn’t want to just be a disciple to Liu Qingge. He wanted more. 

“Mn,” Liu Qingge considered. As usual, when asked a question or when he observed something new, he did not speak right away. More often than not, a lot of time would pass before he brought it up again. If he ever did. 

It was something that Luo Binghe was slowly beginning to admire. He thought of the conversation last night that his shishu and his shizun had. 

“Who you are, all that you are, is all that you need to be.”

No one would have expected such a line from the war god. In fact, if Luo Binghe told anyone that Liu Qingge was the one who said it, he doubted they would believe him. He was learning new sides of two people, and he was getting hungrier with every little morsel that dropped into his hands. At any point, they would decide he was too much. And they would push him away-

You are wanted. 

Liu Qingge had said that. Shouldn’t Luo Binghe give him the grace of believing him? 

“Disciples of Bai Zhan go through rigorous and difficult training, but it is never to break them.” Liu Qingge stared into his cup. “When one is injured, they are cared for. They are hard headed and strong, but still instructed to reach out if they need help. Cultivators need to be strong on their own, but also need to know when to rely on others. I did not go to Jin Lan City alone. I brought allies.” He looked Luo Binghe in the eye. “You went through a troubling ordeal that should not have happened. You require help. That’s all there is to it.” 

“You would never hold a Bai Zhan disciple and tell them-“ Luo Binghe started, and was surprised at the emotion in his voice. Tears blurred his eyes and he ducked his chin. It wasn’t an act this time. 

Last night had made him feel weak in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to be in a long time. Between the revelations and the nightmares and the rotting mess of his heart, he was clinging onto a single thread of sanity. He hated how quickly he broke again, with his sight disappearing into a mess of tears. His shoulders bunched up next to his ears, and he tried to pull in a breath to stop himself from breaking apart again.

At some point, his shishu would get tired of all of this.

Both his shizun and shishu would push him away.

They would scorn him for being such an insatiable and selfish beast.

Liu Qingge patted his head. “No. I would not.” 

It was strange to hear that, as if Luo Binghe had spoken his concerns aloud. He vaguely recalled what he last said. Frustratingly, his shishu left it there. No other explanation was offered. But at the very least, Luo Binghe was able to let go of his shame and fall into his shishu’s lap. 

He wasn’t pushed away.

Chapter Text

The shutters on his windows were set to open at ten in the morning. Light flooded into Shen Yuan’s room and woke him up. He stared bleary-eyed at unfamiliar surroundings. His body hurt. Like rust had grown on his joints and moving meant that pieces scraped and broke off. The thought of getting up and crawling out of bed made him want to cry. His sleepy mind told him he should call for Mu Qingfang, because Without a Cure was acting up in a horrid way. 

Except that this was just his everyday life. Well. What was left of it. 

His bladder screamed, and he heard quiet voices out in the living room. His disciple and his shidi were alone. Together. That realization terrified him enough to chase him out of bed. He found his cane, because he would certainly need it today, and padded across the room. Somehow he managed to put on a pair of pants. He opened the door and saw Luo Binghe sprawled out on the couch with his head in Liu Qingge’s lap. His brain woke up just enough for a friendly reminder:

He slept in the same bed as both of these men. 

(While not wearing pants.)

Ah! 

To think the first time he would ever invite someone into his bed would be two men!

But… wasn’t that a normal thing? They were just guys sharing a bed together. Wasn’t it usual for sports teams and such? When they went on overnight trips? It wasn’t weird, or anything. It was just some dudes.

Just some incredibly handsome and ridiculously attractive dudes. 

(He was straight?)

(Why was that a question?)

Luo Binghe paused only long enough in his story to wave and say, “Good morning, Shizun! And so, the Vanishing Stalker Lily Tiger was able to dive into the water, and it disappeared among the reeds… this disciple was unable to catch even a single whiff of its qi!” 

There was a slight curve to Liu Qingge’s lips as he nodded and listened. He did not interrupt, even if there was a question in his eyes. Shen Yuan had one himself: the hidden weakness of the Vanishing Stalker Lily Tiger was its smell. All one had to do was follow the pungent scent to find it. Did Luo Binghe figure that out? 

Before he could figure that out, Shen Yuan disappeared into the bathroom to prepare for the day. There was a stranger in the mirror. He did his best to ignore the alien feeling in his chest and instead managed to put the stranger into some semblance of order. At least his hair wasn’t a complete mess. Though he couldn’t do anything about the almost-dead gaunt of his complexion.

It was an odd feeling, watching his body wither away day by day.

(Especially after living as an Immortal Master.)

When he stepped back out into the livingroom, his two guests had moved to the table where a spread of dishes were waiting for them. 

By the smell alone, Shen Yuan wished he could eat anything he liked! He missed his old body-

It was never his. 

That body had been taken by force. He benefited from it, certainly, but it was never his.

What if Shen Yuan never got to return to PIDW…? 

That line of thought slammed his heart into his guts. The pang was so resounding, he almost couldn’t breathe. He had to take a moment to tuck that thought into a little box. Then he locked that box, and stuffed it into another box. Then he took that box and stuffed it somewhere deep inside him. His solution? 

Never think about it again. 

Ever. 

“Shen Yuan?” Liu Qingge asked. 

His shidi was standing in front of him, with concern pinching his eyebrows together. Shen Yuan blinked, and he flashed him a small smile. “Liu-shidi!” Then his smile froze. Was that even something he should call Liu Qingge anymore? It wasn’t like he had ever earned the title of peak lord. Who was he to call himself Liu Qingge’s shixiong? “Liu…” His eyebrows folded together, as he struggled to figure out how to address the man in front of him. 

“Qingge.”

Shen Yuan paused.

“I am your shidi,” Liu Qingge affirmed, leaving no room for argument. “Qingge is fine.” His ears were red. 

Shock stole any response that Shen Yuan might have had. His face grew hot. He opened his mouth for an argument, and found that he didn’t know what he would argue. Before he could say anything, he was ushered to their breakfast. 

At the table, a plate was set in front of Shen Yuan along with a cup of tea. He stared down at the food, and pressed his lips into a thin line as he considered it. His stomach was still uncertain from last night, and frankly the plate was unappetizing. He raised the tea to his lips and hoped that it would remind his stomach that food was indeed something it should want.

Luo Binghe chose that moment to ask, “If Yuan-gege can call Liu-shishu ‘Qingge,’ then does that mean Qingge calls him ‘Yuan-gege’ too?” 

Shen Yuan choked.

Embarrassment colored Liu Qingge’s face. “D-Disrespectful!” 

Resting his head on his hand, Luo Binghe fluttered his eyelashes and smirked. “This disciple apologizes, Liu-shishu.”

“Only apologize if you mean it,” Liu Qingge grumbled. He started to fill his plate.

Then Luo Binghe jumped on it. “Here, Liu-shishu!” 

After everyone’s plates were filled, Shen Yuan said, “You can, if you want to.” Two pairs of eyes turned to him. Reddening, he quickly amended, “Not… ‘gege’.” He threw a sharp look at Luo Binghe. “But Yuan is fine.” 

Liu Qingge stared at him as if he sprouted another head. 

Throwing his hands in the air, Shen Yuan stammered, “There’s no courtesy names here. So. It’s… not weird, or anything. And if we get back to PIDW, then of course, you can’t just… call me that. But you can when we’re alone!” 

“Then… Mingbo.” 

A strange noise escaped Luo Binghe, and he dropped food back onto his plate. 

Face bright red, Liu Qingge scowled down at his table. “That’s… the rules here, yes? It is what you will call me in front of your sister.” 

That… was a fair point. And it also brought up the issue that if he introduced Luo Binghe to his sister, there is absolutely no way that his name wouldn’t ring any bells. The two of them often liked to have rant-trades. For her, it usually was about whatever nonsense danmei she was reading. For him, it was whatever trashy series angered him the most. That trashy series was usually PIDW. 

Wait. What did Liu Qingge say!? That it would be what Shen Yuan will call him?! As if they were going to see his sister???! As if it was a guarantee!?  “You-” He choked. “No! We are not meeting my sister!” 

Luo Binghe grinned. “But she was so eager to meet us, Yuan-gege!” 

“She will never believe that you’re not my boyfriends if you call me that!” Shen Yuan grit through his teeth.

The fakest pout filled Luo Binghe’s lips and he turned big eyes towards Shen Yuan. “The nurses called me your boyfriend, Yuan-gege! I just thought that’s what we were…” 

“You don’t even know what a boyfriend is Binghe!” Shen Yuan snapped. Not for the first time, he was glad that his apartment was expensive enough to have sound-proof walls and that none of his neighbors would be calling the cops. 

Not that they ever really would otherwise… They would be used to him shouting to himself. 

“Shizun can teach me?” Luo Binghe said, slowly popping a piece of fruit in his mouth. Why did that seem flirtatious? 

Why did it seem like Binghe was flirting? 

“It’s… not relevant,” Shen Yuan glared down at his plate. His pure white lotus has changed so much! Was it the world they were in, or had he changed because of the blackening? Why did it seem like his prized disciple was teasing him relentlessly?! Ah! Unfair. To save himself from the boyfriend line of questioning, he asked, “What’s in these?” 

The change of topic was not lost on Luo Binghe. As always, his disciple was too sharp for his own good. He did not press it, and instead listed off the ingredients for him. “We matched the ingredients with what you got last night.” 

“Ah.” Liu Qingge glanced up. “Your medication, Yuan.” 

Somehow, Shen Yuan did not expect his name. His face colored, and he felt his stomach try and leap out of his throat. Ahh!! Why did he feel like his crush just noticed him for the first time!? He murmured, “Thank you, Qingge,” and grabbed his cane and fled from the table to go take his medicine. He didn’t have the face to call him by his birthname!

What he did not see, as he fled, was Liu Qingge almost dropping his chopsticks and flooding with color.

The rest of their breakfast went by without too much trouble. Luo Binghe continued to test his shishu’s tastebuds, and made sure both of their cups were full. At the end of their meal, Luo Binghe cleared away the dishes. He was still wearing the same pajama pants from last night. It was meant to be a stretchy, light, and loose pair. On Luo Binghe they were skin tight. 

Shen Yuan found his face heating as his eyes followed the strong curve of his thighs, and… ah! He tore his eyes away and stared down at his hands. What was he doing?! That was the protagonist! And he was straight!! Why… was he reacting this way? 

Was it just the charms of the protagonist?

“Yuan,” Liu Qingge stood beside his chair, and offered him his cane.

There really was too much dick in this apartment, wasn’t there? Even Liu Qingge still wore the stupidly thin pajamas! It! Was!! Too much!

Shen Yuan tried not to look. He failed. His mouth went dry. Anyone would be losing themselves with this eye candy, right?! Fuck. What would he do if the war god caught him staring? He would most likely end up through a wall! His face was hot, and he murmured a thank-you. When he dared a glance up, he saw a certain look in his shidi’s eyes. Was that… satisfaction?

Huh?

“We… should probably get you two some clothes,” Shen Yuan said, and he was very proud of himself for not squeaking! He pushed himself up, and took a moment to balance against the table. Everything hurt. Today was going to be a bad day. He eased past Liu Qingge, and found his way towards his favorite chair and sank into it. 

“Shouldn’t we figure out a way to get back?” Liu Qingge asked. He followed him to the sitting area and perched on the arm of the couch, facing Shen Yuan. This angle was not helping, Qingge!!

Hello??

What happened to the scandalized man in a crop top!?

(Do NOT start thinking about that!)

Pondering the question and keeping his eyes away from anyone’s legs, Shen Yuan wrapped a blanket around himself. He hoped the heat would soothe some of his aches. Or if he was lucky, his medication would kick in.  “Last time we just… went back. There was no real prompting.” 

Liu Qingge frowned. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. His eyes scoured Shen Yuan’s face. A question brewed in his eyes.

Feeling the full force of his attention, Shen Yuan shrank. Then there was a buzz on the table. “Oh!” He lurched forward and snatched the source of the noise: his phone. “How did the two of you order food?” 

“Your face unlocks it,” Liu Qingge said. The corner of his mouth still dragged down. He was unhappy to have to hold off his question.

“I should probably just tell you my password, so you don’t have to do that,” Shen Yuan said, ignoring the latest text from his sister. “Come here.” 

The frown lessened, and his shidi moved to the chair. He leaned over the back of it, his long hair slipping off his shoulder and tickling the side of Shen Yuan’s neck. He watched the screen intensely. 

Shen Yuan started with the first character, and then froze. 

Fuck. 

“Ah! Wait!” Shen Yuan said with half a laugh. “I can just… make the password easier!” 

Liu Qingge’s lips pulled down, again. “I do not need it easy, Yuan.” 

“No!” Shen Yuan choked. Now the war god thought he was calling him stupid! “That’s not it!” 

Eyes slid to him. Liu Qingge stared at him, flatly. 

“Qingge,” Shen Yuan pleaded. “Please.” He twisted in the chair, and caught one of his shidi’s hands, staring into his eyes. “I am not questioning your intelligence! I know you. You’re blunt, but just because you don’t wast time explaining your thoughts doesn’t mean you’re any less knowledgable. And I really admire you for it!” He squeezed his hand, hoping that his honesty shone through. “I mean it.”

Surprised, the war god retreated slightly. His lips parted, and color flooded his cheeks. His eyes fell to Shen Yuan’s lips. 

Um. Embarrassing! Did he have food stuck between his teeth?? Or maybe his breath smelled…

 “Fine.” Liu Qingge hesitated for half a breath, before he dropped an elbow on the back of the chair and leaned closer to Shen Yuan. He watched him with a hesitant and heavy-lidded expression. “Change it.” 

Shen Yuan was caught. The two of them were close. So close, in fact, that he smelled breakfast on the war god’s breath. His throat tightened. 

“Yuan?” Liu Qingge prompted, raising an eyebrow. 

“R-Right,” Shen Yuan stammered. He turned back to his phone, and tapped in the password. 

Wait. 

A soft sound left Liu Qingge. 

Heat rose into Shen Yuan’s cheeks, and he slammed a hand over his face. 

“The password won’t get any easier than that, Yuan.” 

Shen Yuan dropped the phone and used both hands to cover his face. 

“Oh?” Luo Binghe asked, still working on the dishes. “What is the password?” 

Of all things, there was a smile on Liu Qingge’s face. It was quiet and soft, with a teasing bite to it. “Hm.” 

“Qingge,” Shen Yuan whined into his hands. This was humiliating. 

Mirth lit Liu Qingge’s eyes. He tracked around the chair and dropped down on the table in front of Shen Yuan. “No need to worry about us forgetting the password, at least.” He set his elbows on his knees, again, facing Shen Yuan. 

Cute smile be damned!! Liu Qingge was such a menace!

Sighing, Shen Yuan shook his head and set his phone aside. He rested his face in a hand, still attempting to shield some of the blush that rose to his face. 

“Yuan.” The humor from Liu Qingge faded. All of his intensity narrowed in on Shen Yuan, and there was a fierce determination in his eyes. “Tell me what happened in Jin Lan City. In the alley.” 

Hesitation stole his voice. Shen Yuan threw a glance towards his disciple (was he really still his disciple?) in the kitchen. Luo Binghe seemed occupied by the dishes, though no doubt he was keeping a keen ear out on what was happening between the two of them. He smoothed out some wrinkles on his blanket. “It was just Binghe and I…” He hadn’t necessarily wanted to explain to his shidi that he was running from his own disciple, because he also didn’t want to go into why he was running. “I was attempting to call on the System for some… information on what was happening with Binghe. I wanted to alleviate some of the tension between the two of us. And somehow, he sensed it while checking my meridians.” He glanced up. “Without a Cure acted up earlier that day.” 

Liu Qingge frowned, troubled. “Why didn’t you call on me? Or tell Mu Qingfang?” 

Waving his hand through the air, Shen Yuan shook his head, “Why? Mu-shidi was busy trying to figure out a cure, and you were hunting down the sowers. It isn’t a big deal.” 

Eyes narrowing, Liu Qingge shook his head. “Still. You should have told us.” 

“Anyways,” Shen Yuan pressed on, not wanting to have this argument with his shidi again, “Binghe then… attacked it, the System, with his qi. I can only guess that whatever the attack did, it caused a disruption with the System and it threw us back here.” 

Liu Qingge hummed in thought.

“What I can’t figure out is how the two of you got your own bodies,” Shen Yuan continued, “Did they exist already? How did you end up in my apartment?” Without thinking, he leaned over and grabbed Liu Qingge’s face and squished his cheeks. “You feel real.”

Both of them paused.

A blush turned Liu Qingge’s pale face red, and he stared in bafflement.

“Oh,” Shen Yuan said, voice small. He quickly snapped back his hands. Fuck. Ah! He just pinched the War God of Bai Zhan’s cheeks!! What the hell was he thinking!? 

Instead of going off on a rampage, Liu Qingge just swallowed. He collected himself and said, “You… feel real, as well. And this body, although without cultivation, feels normal.” He glared down at his hands. “Except weaker.” 

The embarrassment of touching Liu Qingge still cooked Shen Yuan’s skin. He turned his head away, the corner of his lip curling wrly, and said, “Welcome to my world.” He wanted something to do with his hands. Why did it suddenly feel awkward that he had hands? “Ah. Um. Anyways.” He settled with folding his hands in his lap. “All we need to do is get back to PIDW and let the System start repairing itself again. Which means… Binghe has to stay close for a bit.”

“Hm.” Leaning back, Liu Qingge threw a glance towards the kitchen.

“Why me?” Luo Binghe asked, unable to pretend any longer that he wasn’t eavesdropping. 

Shen Yuan fell silent, again. How would he begin to explain!? Oh, right! You’re the star of the stallion novel I’m obsessed with! Do you know how many sex scenes of yours I skimmed over? Go ahead. Give a guess! Oh! And the System, that thing you broke, uses you as a power source!

Before he could flounder any further, Liu Qingge spoke up, “You’re the protagonist.” His face squished in a mix of frustration and discomfort. “Of the book.” 

Startled, Shen Yuan threw him a glance. 

Liu Qingge caught the look and threw him an aggrieved glance that said, Didn’t you just say you didn’t think I was stupid? 

A blush settled over Shen Yuan’s cheeks. “Qingge is right.” The room fell quiet as Luo Binghe digested that little bomb. The war god kept staring at Shen Yuan, which finally made him flustered enough to blurt. “What?” 

“...Luo Binghe,” his shidi called.

“Yes, Shishu?” Luo Binghe perked. He dried off his hands, and walked over. As he reached the back of the couch, he hopped over it and settled down on the cushion. 

“Your side.” Liu Qingge turned to look at him. “What happened?”

Luo Binghe paused. His eyes slid to Shen Yuan, and drew back to his shishu. “I went to meet Shizun again after securing the sowers. I…” His face fell. “I had wanted to tell him…” 

“Binghe worked very hard,” Shen Yuan said and he forced the smallest of smiles even as his heart sank with pain. All Luo Binghe wanted that night was to have his head patted and to be told he did a job well-done.

Even with a demure dip of his head, Luo Binghe could not hide the way he perked up from the praise. “Shizun ran from me, though Without a Cure was acting up.” His eyes darkened, and he frowned in displeasure. “This disciple caught up with him quickly. And this disciple behaved…” Luo Binghe’s eyes watered. “This beast had no excuses-”

“Binghe,” Shen Yuan admonished. His heart was in his throat. 

“This lowly one hurt his shizun,” Luo Binghe said, his jaw setting stubbornly. It was a strange contrast to the glittering tears in his eyes. It ached to see him hate himself this much. Shen Yuan shifted on the chair, ready to throw his blankets aside.

Shockingly, Liu Qingge reached out and patted Luo Binghe’s head. “We will get to that. What happened?” 

“This lowly one had trained hard to read energies. The Abyss had many well-hidden creatures. As hidden as they were, they often left some sort of disturbance one way or another. This disciple sensed something different from his shizun.” Luo Binghe sighed. “This beast… thought Shizun was calling for help. That it was a spell that shizun learned, connecting him to Liu-shishu.” From underneath wet eyelashes, Luo Binghe looked up at his shishu. “That was who Shizun kept calling out to. You.”

Why was that part important!? 

“Binghe,” Shen Yuan grumbled. 

Ears coloring, Liu Qingge said, “Continue.”

“This lowly one read Shizun’s meridians, and found a disturbance there. He intended to break the spell. When he found a place where the spell was tethered, he attacked it.” Luo Binghe dropped his gaze, most likely remembering in vivid detail what happened after that. “It… siphoned off Shizun to repair itself. It was killing him. This disciple attempted to transfer qi into Shizun, and…” He frowns. “This disciple woke up in this world.” 

Liu Qingge fell quiet, pondering. 

During his pondering silence, Luo Binghe decided to take the time to ask a question. “Shizun?”

“Mn?” 

“What’s the password?”

Shen Yuan bit his tongue to stop himself from making a sound. He covered his face with a hand. 

The corner of Liu Qingge’s lip quirked. “Binghe.” 

“Yes, Shishu?” He straightened.

Liu Qingge did not answer. He stared Shen Yuan in the eye, mirth dancing in his eyes. “Yuan. You said we need clothes.” 

“Yes.” Shen Yuan ignored his disciple’s confused look, and he shuffled to the edge of his chair. “Who needs to figure out the shower?” 

Despite any other attempts Luo Binghe made to learn the password, no one answered him. Only sometimes would Liu Qingge answer with a near sly smile and say, “Binghe.” 

Chapter Text

The three of them were ready to go outside. Liu Qingge was restless. He shifted from one foot to the other, trapped once again in the too-tight, stiff fabric that Shen Yuan referred to as “jeans.” He disliked wearing clothes he had slept in. It was improper — and sometimes only somewhat acceptable when he was on missions in the wild. But there was nothing he could do about that. The only other option was to pull back on that first shirt he wore, and nothing would ever get him back in that. 

(Not, unless, it was to get two pairs of eyes to ogle him again. He had not forgotten the way Luo Binghe and Shen Yuan had stared at him-) 

What was he thinking? 

Liu Qingge rolled back and forth on the balls of his feet. His brain didn’t do well when he didn’t exercise or push himself. Right now, there were so many thoughts inside his head it was as if someone was constantly screaming in his ears. Part of him wanted to see if Luo Binghe would spar with him, hand to hand. Then he started thinking about being pinned to the ground, and that led to a (humiliating) series of images that didn’t really have to do with fighting. 

“You don’t have a hood this time.” Shen Yuan’s voice drifted from his bedroom. He moved past the doorway searching for something. He wore a brand new set of clothes: a large, comfortable knit top with a white shirt underneath it. His jeans had holes in them. If the holes weren’t placed so purposely and frayed a certain way, Liu Qingge would have worried whether or not Shen Yuan could afford to buy them clothes. 

Money did not seem to be a question for him at all. 

Stepping up beside the front door, Luo Binghe turned his attention towards the bedroom. He wore his jeans with the top he slept in and a leather jacket. (There was so much new vocabulary that Liu Qingge was learning.) His curly hair had been tamed after the shower, and now dried partially frizzy due to Shen Yuan’s poor selection of hair care. Not that it did anything to dampen Luo Binghe’s natural beauty. As if sensing his stare, the cheeky brat dropped his chin and looked over at Liu Qingge from underneath his eyelashes. The corner of his lips curled into a pleased and teasing smile. 

“What.” Liu Qingge tried, by pure force of will alone, to stop his blush.

He was unsuccessful.

“Does Liu-shishu need anything from this one?” Luo Binghe asked demurely. 

Before he could even think of a way to answer that, Shen Yuan said, “Ah ha! I found them!” In a few moments, he stepped out of his bedroom. Each step with the cane was heavy and hard, as if he put more of his weight onto it. He stopped in front of Luo Binghe. “Here. These will help with the lights.” He held a strange hat and some sort of… mask? “This is called a ‘baseball cap,’ though you can just call it a hat. And these are sunglasses. Here. Try them on.” He motioned for Luo Binghe to lean down. 

It… really was adorable how small he was. 

Liu Qingge caught himself, not for the first time, with the insatiable need to pick up Shen Yuan and squeeze him. 

…he really needed to go on a jog. Or maybe he should ask Luo Binghe to spar with him. His thoughts were all over the place. 

Luo Binghe leaned down, allowing his shizun to brush aside his hair.

There was a slight pause, and Shen Yuan’s cheeks blossomed with a light pink. “Binghe… I am sorry. This is the only hat I have that’s not… ridiculous.” He hesitantly turned the face of the baseball cap towards him. There was a demon mark on the front of it. A zuiyin.

Luo Binghe’s eyes widened ever so slightly. Both he and Shen Yuan flashed Liu Qingge side-eyed glances.

Those two really weren’t subtle, were they?

If Liu Qingge did not get moving soon, he might just punch someone for the fun of it. He gave the hat a critical glance, and cocked his head slightly with a raised eyebrow. “Another gift from your sister?” he asked. 

Relieved to have an explanation for the demonic hat, Shen Yuan said, “Yes! It was.” He placed the hat on Luo Binghe, and moved aside some of his hair. Whenever he was focused on a task, it seemed that his hands were freer and he did not restrain himself by propriety. 

Liu Qingge felt an odd mix of emotions. Jealousy was one, seeing Luo Binghe preen under the gentle administration. And the other… 

The other was a strange warmth in his chest. Almost like finding the last piece to a puzzle. Or watching someone you care for receive a gift. 

With the sunglasses on, and small devices placed in the disciple’s ears, it seemed as if they were finally ready. “They’re noise minimizing,” Shen Yuan explained. “It should help. But I ordered us a car, so you should be okay for a bit. How does it all feel?” 

“Great, Yuan-gege!” Luo Binghe said. Unadulterated adoration warmed his eyes as he watched his shizun. 

It should have been embarrassing or shameless. Instead, Liu Qingge found that odd knot of… something in his chest again.

(Fuck.) 

“Ready?” Liu Qingge restrained himself from squirming. He wanted to bolt free. His brain focused on, Go? Go. Go. Go… Time? To? Go? Now? Let’s go. Go! It was difficult to stop himself from doing anything else. 

“If you start feeling overwhelmed,” Shen Yuan said, turning his attention towards Liu Qingge. “Let me know. We can pull your hood up, and I am also bringing headphones or anything else you guys might need.” He held up a pack.

“Right.” Liu Qingge nodded. Because he couldn’t help himself, he added, “Ready?” Go? We go? Now? 

“Shizun takes care of us so well,” Luo Binghe purred. 

Skin dusting pink, Shen Yuan murmured, “Binghe. Of course. It’s quite the change for both of you-”

“Yuan.” Liu Qingge put his hand on the doorknob. “Binghe. Ready?” 

Luo Binghe took a second to consider him, then the corner of his lip pulled in startled delight as if he had discovered something new. “Yes, Liu-shishu. This Binghe is ready.” 

“Um… about that?” His slow shixiong said with a wince. 

“Tell us on the way down,” Luo Binghe offered.

Liu Qingge opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

“You guys… are going to have to speak a little differently. More informal.” 

Whatever. Informal was fine. It really wasn't as if he was married to speaking formal himself. There were too many words for simple things and it was stupid. Liu Qingge did not know where to go from here, but they were at the end of a long hall and there was only one direction to go. He went. Behind him, Luo Binghe said, “So… Yuan-gege? And Ming-gege?” 

Liu Qingge nearly ran into a wall.

When he whipped around, the cheeky disciple had that stupid innocent look on his face, and Shen Yuan was trying his best to swallow a laugh. His hand fluttered up to cover an amused smirk.

What. The. Fuck?

“Uh. A-Anyways… no titles. It’s… different here,” his shixiong offered. He failed at stopping a little huff of laughter in between his pauses.

“Alright,” Luo Binghe said, smiling mischievously. “Ming-gege, is something wrong?” 

“Not ‘gege’,” Liu Qingge tried to snap with all the authority he’s learned as the Bai Zhan peak lord. Instead he choked. 

“So… I can call you Mingbo?” 

“D-Disrespectful…” Liu Qingge’s voice failed him as Luo Binghe took a step towards him. Behind him, Shen Yuan decided it was best to hide his laughter by pretending to be busy with locking his door. 

There was a sly tilt to Luo Binghe’s lips. He stopped just a breath away from Liu Qingge. Sunglasses lowered to the tip of his nose, he examined Liu Qingge’s face. There was something vulnerable in his eyes. 

Liu Qingge realized this was a test to see if he would reject him. He could. Very easily, he could take a step back and demand to be referred to as “Liu” or even by “Qingge.” It wouldn’t be uncalled for. They might have known each other for a few years now, but they weren’t close. Hell, the first time they ever held a real conversation with just the two of them hadn’t been that long ago. He wondered why it was so important to Luo Binghe to be accepted by him. Of all people! Why not his peers? Why not his shizun? Why him?

Then he remembered that the one person that Luo Binghe loved and trusted had cast him aside and threw him into the Abyss. 

Of course the needy brat would need more stability and assurances.

A long sigh left Liu Qingge. He grit his teeth and threw a light punch into Luo Binghe’s side. “Don't call me that back at the peaks. Or you'll run drills." To emphasize his point, he took a step forward and pulled on one of the fiercest glares he could muster. "Until you collapse.” 

Luo Binghe lit up like the sun. His eyes widened, and the smile on his face was so bright and warm it was hard to look at. “Of course, Ming-gege!” 

“Binghe,” Liu Qingge growled. “Not ‘gege’.” 

Fuck.

He did not have the face for whatever the fuck this was, and somehow Luo Binghe knew that his objections weren’t hard objections. That fucking brat knew when to push and when to back off, and it was annoying as hell.

“But Ming-gege is so much older and wiser than this Binghe…”

Behind them, Shen Yuan barked a laugh that he tried to cover with a cough. 

“Laugh all you want, Yuan-gege,” Liu Qingge spat. 

The look on Shen Yuan’s face was… 

Well. Liu Qingge turned and stormed down the hall to hide his own smile. He left the other two, one sputtering incoherently and the other looking thoughtful and a little inspired. 

Outside sucked. There were too many people and loud noises. But Liu Qingge took one glance at a car and knew that he wanted to learn how to control it. He itched to sit behind the wheel and see just how fast that thing could go. The hunger in his eyes was not subtle. Shen Yuan looked more than a little worried, eying both him and the car. 

Too bad they did not have the time for any lessons. All three climbed into the back, and there Shen Yuan walked them through his plans for the day. Luo Binghe ended up in the middle this time, pleased whenever his shizun leaned over him to show Liu Qingge something on his phone. The rocking motions of the car was strange to get used to, and did nothing to quell the itch he had on seeing how fast it could go.

If they were stuck here longer than a week, Liu Qingge was going to learn how to control a car.

(Really, he hoped they weren’t here for more than a day but… hey. Fast.)

The woman controlling the car dropped them off at a super-sized market. There were some stores tucked into buildings with vendors lining the walkways, and so many fucking signs and lights. Shen Yuan explained to them that this was a shopping district with more than a few places to buy clothes, food, and a myriad of other things. First plan of action: get clothes. Second plan of action: stock up on food. 

To no one’s surprise, Luo Binghe got distracted by all the different food options. Vendors leaned out, waving good-smelling treats their way. There was far too much sugar on some of them, yet none of that deterred Luo Binghe and his eye for cuisine. 

While he amicably talked up one of the vendors, Liu Qingge’s eyes caught a smaller booth. An older woman sat at a basic stall, tinkering with some sort of jewelry with her own gnarled hands. He drifted towards the hair pieces. From what he could tell, in Shen Yuan’s world men didn’t tend to dress their hair with any finery. It was a shame, really. 

He caught sight of pale green jade and lifted it up. 

Green. It was Shen Qingqiu. The color of bamboo.

“Ah… thinking of someone, are you?” The older woman asked with a gentle smile. 

Yes, Liu Qingge thought. He straightened, “Beautiful.” 

“Thank you,” the woman answered, “my wife makes most of them. She has the real eye for these things.” Her chin motioned towards the hair piece. “She made that one.” 

“Mingbo,” Shen Yuan said, voice stuttering only slightly as he stepped up next to him. “Do you want that?” 

Even in a different body, green fit Shen Yuan well. Liu Qingge nodded before he could think otherwise – what was the point in buying someone a gift if they had to buy it for themself? Currency was exchanged, and not before long the hair piece was theirs. Liu Qingge felt a little silly holding it in his hands. 

The two of them drifted back towards the center of the market, both keeping a sharp eye on Luo Binghe. Somehow the brat had managed to convince a vendor into letting him cook. 

“Would you like to put that on?” Shen Yuan asked. 

Liu Qingge glanced over at him. He nodded.

“We can find a bathroom,” Shen Yuan said, and he looked around. “Or I…” His voice disappeared as Liu Qingge stepped in front of him. 

“Stay still.” Liu Qingge ignored the blush on his face, and swept aside some of Shen Yuan’s hair. It was soft. He had to run his fingers through it a few times to wrestle it into shape, and then pinned a section of his hair back on the right side of his face. He stepped back and admired his work. The green suited Shen Yuan exceptionally well. It brought out the depths of color in his dark eyes, and played with the light flush of his cheeks.

He was truly handsome. 

Mouth slightly agape, Shen Yuan reached up to lightly touch the hair piece. His eyes were wide. Every passing second, his face grew redder.

Liu Qingge’s heart felt like it was about to crawl up his throat. 

This world, Shen Yuan’s world, had different rules. So, it was okay to do what he just did.

(That’s what he was telling himself.) 

“...it was for me?” Shen Yuan asked. His voice was a bit breathy. 

“Mn.” Liu Qingge ignored the cries of protest in the back of his head. Disrespectful! Shameless!! How dare he touch his shixiong in such a way? His palms were coated with sweat. He had slept in the same bed with this man, sure. But not in the way Liu Qingge yearned for. He felt guilty and was about to apologize for overstepping.

Then Shen Yuan smiled, slightly bashful. “We’re supposed to be getting you clothes, Mingbo. Not me.” 

Something released in his chest, hearing his name. It softened his retort. “A hairpiece is not clothes.”

“...you got me there,” Shen Yuan said, and his smile widened even more. It was beautiful. It was breathtaking. It was hard not to lean down and kiss it off his face. “Come on, then. Let’s sit for a bit.” 

The two of them found a bench underneath a tree. There wasn’t a lot of greenery in the middle of the city, and it was utilized as decoration more than anything else. Their seat at the bench gave them a full view of Luo Binghe as he charmed his way from one vendor to the next. 

“You’re different,” Shen Yuan said, with hands in his lap and his eyes on his disciple. “Here.” 

Liu Qingge made a sound as a question. He sat a reasonable distance from his shixiong, though close enough that if he let his legs relax their thighs would brush. 

For a while, Shen Yuan thought about his next words. His lips pursed, and he played with the hairpiece. It was not a fan. Liu Qingge should look for a fan next. Though, selfishly, he loved seeing all the different expressions his shixiong always tried to hide. 

“You’re more lenient with him,” Shen Yuan said, carefully. He glanced at Liu Qingge out of the corner of his eye. “Not that you’re not a nice person…” 

Liu Qingge snorted. He was not a nice person. On the other hand, Shen Yuan was a kind person. It took a while for Liu Qingge to see that. Maybe because he always saw Shen Qingqiu first. “He needs it. We’ll have to figure something out about his qi deviation when we get back.” He frowned. 

“Well… right now our other bodies are sort of laying in the ruins of my bamboo house,” Shen Yuan said, voice with a slight edge to it when he glanced at him.

“Blame your disciple,” Liu Qingge grumbled. 

“You’re the older of the two of you!” his shixiong said with an admonishing huff.

“Yuan.” Liu Qingge glanced at him. “Look at him.” He motioned towards the man who was currently getting free samples. The simple motion hopefully said all that needed to be said: he’s a man that can get a situation to play out how he wants. 

Shen Yuan sighed. “Fair.” 

With a frown, Liu Qingge added, “I’ll fix it.” 

Shaking his head, his shixiong playfully elbowed him. “No. It’s okay. Shang-shidi has probably already dealt with it. And Mu-shidi is probably already taking care of us. It’ll be alright.”

The warmth of the teasing jab spilled through Liu Qingge. He glanced over at his shixiong. There was a line neither of them had ever crossed, yet here in this world it seemed as if that line had become a blur. Suddenly, he was aware of each beat of his heart, staring into the depths of his shixiong’s eyes. “Different rules,” he said softly.

“Rules?” Shen Yuan asked. 

They were close. Liu Qingge could see all the variations of blacks and browns within those eyes. When the sun hit his iris, it brought out the amber hues. Beautiful and elegant. Untouchable. 

“Different rules. Here.” Liu Qingge nodded, because he did not know how else to explain what he meant. Back in their world, it was improper to sit so close and touch another’s hair. Those were all lessons that had taken forever for him to understand, and often had him in a screaming match (or fisticuffs) with adults. Then they became a safety net. As soon as he realized that there were predefined ways to act, scripts that he could follow, life became a little easier. Rules back in their world kept Liu Qingge safe and helped him live somewhat functionally. But those same rules held him back. 

They kept him from reaching out and taking his shixiong’s hand.

Here…

Could he do that here? 

His fingers twitched. 

“Right,” Shen Yuan said, understanding now with a smile. “That means you can do more of what you want here.” He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lip curling into a teasing tilt. “And what does Mingbo want?” 

You, Liu Qingge almost said it. The shape of the word was one his tongue. 

“More dessert?” Shen Yuan asked, his smile growing and his eyes squishing into little half-moons. “More of Binghe’s cooking that makes you smile?”

“You’re teasing me,” Liu Qingge accused and glared. The glare was to stop himself from grinning.

Apparently it didn’t work.

“You’re beautiful,” Shen Yuan told him with a laugh. Then he paused, realizing what he said. “Your smile is pretty.” His skin turned a brilliant shade of red. “H-Handsome! Very manly. Your smile is-” 

Liu Qingge laughed. His heartbeat danced on his eardrums. He wanted to kiss him. If he didn’t turn away, he would kiss him. “Thanks, Yuan.” 

Wonder softened Shen Yuan’s expression. The corner of his lips tugged into an adoring smile. (Did he know he was doing that?) “Um. Yeah. Sure.” His eyes dropped into his lap. “Sorry.” 

“Apologize again,” Liu Qingge said, and flashed him a sharp look. I dare you.

Shen Yuan gave him a challenging look from underneath his lashes. It looked as if he might really dare. 

Breath shortening, Liu Qingge started to think of what he might do when he did. 

Shut him up with a kiss? 

He wanted to taste him. 

A loud laugh caught both of their attention, and they spotted Luo Binghe holding far too many samples in his arms. An older man was clapping him on the back. Despite the bright smile on Luo Binghe’s lips, there was a slight strain in his eyes. He was uncomfortable with wherever that conversation had gone.

Shen Yuan was starting to rise up, noticing the situation as well.

“I got him,” Liu Qingge promised. He stopped Shen Yuan from getting up, and briskly walked over. In a short amount of time, he killed the conversation, rescued the little brat, and brought him back into the safe clutches of his shizun. 

Liu Qingge was rather adept at that – ending conversations. 

In quiet stupefaction, Luo Binghe didn’t say a single word even as they all sat down on the bench. 

There was no question that the brat could have handled himself. It was a matter of whether or not he had to. Not with Shen Yuan and Liu Qingge there to help him out. You’re not alone, Liu Qingge wanted to tell him. Instead he had to show him. Because words were hard, but actions were clearer. Sometimes. 

“Well?” Liu Qingge prompted, crossing his arms as he eyed the food. “What do you want me to try?” 

Luo Binghe’s face glowed with a smile. “Ming-gege!” His eyes looked dangerously close to tears that he quickly blinked away. He procured some pieces of fruit covered something that looked akin to melted sugar. “This one first!”

Later, Liu Qingge might regret encouraging this behavior. At the moment he couldn’t find it in himself to even try. Not with both Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe sharing eager smiles, waiting on his reaction to all the different types of food. 

He didn’t think he was making any particular expressions, but after one specific savory steamed bun, Shen Yuan said, “I quite like those, too.” 

Excited, Luo Binghe said, “I can make those for both Yuan-gege and Ming-gege later!” 

Yeah. He didn’t regret it. Not one bit.

Chapter Text

What seemed like hundreds of options stretched down a long road. Each store had its own signature lighting and smell, with mannequins lined up at the windows wearing fashion unique to Shen Yuan’s world. The clothes were a lot more daring than their own world. (At least, in the human realm.) It really was a wonder that his shizun was so well adjusted to the heavy swaths of robes, considering that he was used to wearing much less. Presumably, that is. Luo Binghe eyed his shizun subtly, and drew his eyes down the length of his body. 

Short hair, small stature, large sweater with a shirt underneath, and jeans with holes. (Try as he might, Luo Binghe did not understand the holes. He itched to patch them, or find his shizun alternative pants that were not ruined.) He supposed in comparison to others of this world, his shizun dressed modestly. Unless one counted what he wore the previous night. Just Luo Binghe’s shirt and a small pair of shorts.

(Or boxers as his shizun had taught them – he had stuttered adorably as he did.) 

Was Luo Binghe ever going to forget what his shizun looked like wearing one of his things and nearly nothing else? 

Absolutely not.

His wrist would not forgive him later.

In between wandering between vendors and feeding his shishu food, Luo Binghe made himself a student of fashion. There seemed to be very distinct clothing styles between genders, and so he quickly focused mainly on the men. In most cases their outfits were boring. Clingy tops and pants. Nothing like the extravagance of layered robes, paired with intricate hairstyles.

 It did not take much time before he grew confident with this world’s fashion. The three of them entered their first store. After collecting sizes and instructions, Luo Binghe began. There was a boggling amount of choices; dozens of colors and dyes. It was almost overwhelming. When he held up a pair of pants and tested them in his hands, Shen Yuan suggested, “You should try those on.” 

There was probably a private area for him to change. That assumption was easy to make, but it was more fun to turn to his shizun with large eyes and demurely murmur, “Shizun wants me to change right here?” with an innocent blink. 

The way his shizun’s face colored so swiftly was enchanting. Shen Yuan explained, courageously without a stutter, “There’s… changing rooms. Here. You can try on different clothes. It’s probably a good idea for both of you, because even if things have sizes they’re not accurate.” 

Liu Qingge’s face pinched. 

“It’s all very private!” Shen Yuan continued, “You get your own room, and we can grab you different sizes-”  He rambled on.

Feeling the texture of the pants between his fingers, Luo Binghe carefully observed his shishu. He watched him shift from one foot to the other, hands clenching and unclenching. This man was the war god, even in a completely different world, and he had as much interest in clothes as he did in the logistics of An Ding Peak. Mouth curling, Luo Binghe turned his attention to his shizun and leaned in, “Yuan-gege?” he interrupted gently. 

Shen Yuan blinked up at him, skin still flushed alluringly. “Yes, Binghe?”

“How about we just grab some things that interest us for now and try them on later?” Luo Binghe asked. “Especially because we still have to go get food…” 

Liu Qingge stopped twitching as much. 

“Oh, I suppose we could,” Shen Yuan said, thoughtfully. “If you would prefer. And it’d be more private at our place. We can return anything you guys don’t like.” 

“Mn,” Luo Binghe agreed, smiling warmly. “Shishu, what do you think of this?” He offered the material to the war god.

With a raised eyebrow, Liu Qingge rubbed the fabric. His hand snatched away rather quickly, and he gruffly said, “No.” 

The three of them wandered about the store, with Luo Binghe offering different textures to his shishu to see which were alright and what ones were rejected. By the time they made their way around the entire store, Luo Binghe had a solid idea on what clothes to seek out. 

They ended up with a decent amount of what Shen Yuan referred to as, “lounge wear” as well as some outfits they could wear out and about. The price at the end seemed… large. His shizun hardly even gave it a second thought. Then it was on to the next store. 

At first, both Liu Qingge and Shen Yuan diligently followed him from one store to the next. Then both started to lag. One was antsy and started to get a bit snippy whenever Luo Binghe asked his opinion, and the other leaned against the wall or heavily on his cane whenever he thought the other two weren’t looking. It did not take much convincing to get his shizun and shishu to go take a break. Both gave him free reign and found something else to occupy their time – something about tea. The day passed on in a blur of fabric and color. There were a luxurious amount of choices. More than once he paused by a few articles of clothing and wished he knew his shizun’s size.

In the end, he was forced to guess and limited himself to only a few things for his shizun. Each suited him far too well to be able to just leave them behind.

Luo Binghe left the last store with barely enough space on his arms to house all the bags. He found his shizun and shishu sitting with three cups on the table. His breath caught and his lungs seized, goosebumps crawling up the back of his neck. The two were locked in a conversation. There was a coy tilt to Liu Qingge’s lips. His perfect posture was ruined by his slight lean towards Shen Yuan, with his elbow on the table. They sat next to another, their knees shy of bumping.

Shizun had both hands wrapped around a cup, body magnetized close to Liu Qingge. He was shy, head bent with his shoulders tucked up near his ears. Despite the demeanor, he had a teasing glimmer in his eyes. 

Liu Qingge laughed. There was half a second of hesitation, then he shoved his leg against Shen Yuan’s to jostle him. He did not move his leg away after. 

Each passing second, they drew closer. 

Heat burned in Luo Binghe. He was caught. An unknown feeling, akin to bubbles, stirred around in his stomach. It wasn’t unpleasant. No, quite the opposite. It was a building, stirring tension that ached for release. 

The kiss he shared with Shizun was brief and too swift to be anything but a passing dream. Were his lips soft? Would he taste like the drink in his hands?

And Liu Qingge… would he be stiff, at first? Unrelenting? He imagined the kiss. Not quite resisting, but closed off. Then, like when Luo Binghe touched him, he would slowly relax into it. Would he take charge? 

The two of them were so close. Liu Qingge’s eyes dropped to his shixiong’s lips. 

Luo Binghe’s heart played like drums in his ears. Each beat reverberated in the tips of his fingers. Do it, he begged. Kiss him. 

Shen Yuan watched his shidi through a fan of dark eyelashes. A pink blush settled over his cheeks. His lips parted. He licked his lips. Every single piece of his body language was an invitation. Did he realize he was doing that? 

His shishu’s fingers trailed across the tabletop, drifting closer to Shen Yuan. The shells of his ears were red. 

Then Shen Yuan’s eyes drifted over his shidi’s shoulder and caught Luo Binghe. His back straightened, and a wide smile lit up his face. 

It was heartwarming, and also aggravating. 

So close!

The two pulled apart and turned towards him. Shen Yuan eagerly motioned for Luo Binghe to join. As he drifted closer, his shishu pulled out an extra chair for all the bags and organized them. Someone shoved a clear cup into Luo Binghe’s hands, and by the time he sat down, all the tension between both his shizun and shishu had melted away completely. 

“How much did you spend?” Liu Qingge asked, eying all the bags. He peeked through one of the ones closest to him with a raised eyebrow. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Shen Yuan said, wiping a hand through the air. “You did a lot! Good. Hopefully now the two of you can be more comfortable.” 

“We will be!” Luo Binghe said, smiling brightly. “When we get back, I would appreciate Shizun’s opinion on my choices.” 

Expression softening, Shen Yuan reached over and patted his head. “Of course, Binghe. But knowing you, you chose well.” 

It did not appear to matter how old he was, praise from his shizun never seemed to lose its effect on him. His back straightened reflexively and dislodged the hand on his head. 

Across the table, Liu Qingge smirked. He leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. “Try it.” He pointed at the drink. 

Obediently, Luo Binghe lifted the cup. There was a tube sticking out of the top. Using the power of common sense, he wrapped his lips around the tube and sucked. It was some sort of tea, milky and full of spice and sugar. His eyes widened. “That’s good!” 

“Too sweet,” Liu Qingge said with a shake of his head.

Shen Yuan hid a smile behind a sip. “Mingbo keeps saying that, but he smiles whenever he takes a drink.”

“I do not,” his shishu said, throwing an irritated glance at Shen Yuan. He shoved his leg against him again, which caused his shizun to catch suppressed laughter in his hand.

“Does Ming-gege have a secret weakness for sweets?” Luo Binghe asked, setting his chin on his hand.

Liu Qingge threw him a cutting look. “No!” he denied, and he shoved his foot against Luo Binghe’s knee. 

At the same time, Shen Yuan slyly said, “We can’t be so sure, Binghe… We might need more research.” 

“This Binghe will study and offer a second opinion,” Luo Binghe said with a studious nod. Both of them turned to Liu Qingge and motioned for him to take a sip.  

“Stop,” Liu Qingge grumbled, and he glowered at the offending drinks. 

“Try it again, Ming-gege,” Luo Binghe teased. He grinned. 

“Remember, Mingbo?” Shen Yuan asked, he reached across the table and placed his hand on his shidi’s wrist. “Different rules.” 

The glower lifted, the way fog rises underneath the heat of the sun. Liu Qingge relaxed. “Different rules,” he echoed. After a moment, his eyebrows sank together. He was too embarrassed to take a drink now, not with all the attention. “Food next?”

“Yes!” Luo Binghe said eagerly.

With a thoughtful hum, Shen Yuan leaned back in his chair. Both of his hands returned to his cup, and his head tilted back as he considered. His expression was neutral. “If you guys wanted to change into fresh clothes, we could do that. We’ll find a public restroom, and then make our way to the grocery store.” Exhaustion ate away at the edges of his words. Despite his best efforts, his shoulders slumped and his face was pale. 

Jaw tight, Luo Binghe exchanged a glance with his shishu. “I should wash the clothes before we wear them,” he said aloud. “How about we save food for tomorrow?” 

“Binghe. You wanted to cook,” Shen Yuan said. He raised an eyebrow at him. “We don’t have anything in the kitchen.” 

“I saw some food that I wanted to try on your phone!” Luo Binghe said brightly. While he was eager to feed both of the men at the table, he also wanted to make certain that his shizun didn’t strain himself. It was somewhat concerning that the three of them had only been out for about a quarter of the day and his shizun already appeared so haggard. 

A quiet pang of worry hooked into his chest. What exactly was wrong with his shizun’s health here?

“No,” Shen Yuan said and shook his head. “Let’s go to the grocery store. We’re already out.” 

“...and we can go out again,” Liu Qingge answered. “At another time.” 

Shen Yuan opened his mouth, and then closed it. He frowned. 

Amusement tickled the back of Luo Binghe’s throat. He suppressed the urge to laugh by taking a drink. He had lived with that man for a few years and knew his preferential habits. More often than not, if his shizun had the choice, he would rather lounge around and read a book. Of course the idea of “going out” seemed like such a monumental task. In that same vein, his shishu always seemed to spend more time outside of his own house than he ever did in it.

Liu Qingge gave Luo Binghe an aggrieved glance. 

They both came to the same conclusion: Shen Yuan would not back down. They would just have to rush their shopping trip.

“Give me some fucking pants,” his shishu said with a sigh. He started to sort through some of the clothes.

“Hold on!” Luo Binghe set his drink aside and plunged into the bags. After he found the outfit he was looking for, he placed it into its own separate bag and held it out. A smile filled his lips. “Shishu should change into this!” 

Liu Qingge raised an eyebrow. Defiance lit the darks of his eyes. “Importunate,” he said, though the corner of his lip was tugging up.

As an experiment, Luo Binghe let his smile fall from his eyes. His lips tightened, subtly strained. “If Ming-gege doesn’t-“ 

“It’s fine,” Liu Qingge said, hastily. He snatched the bag to prevent it from being taken away. “You did well.” Reaching across the table, he landed a stiff hand atop Luo Binghe’s head. 

Warmth swelled in his chest, and Luo Binghe had to dip his head to hide his smile. 

His shishu motioned towards a sign and said, “Bathrooms. Right?” 

Surprised, Shen Yuan twisted in his seat to look. “Yes. Do you need help?”

There was a long silence.

The war god stared flatly at Shen Yuan, with a single eyebrow raised.

Shizun blushed. “Not… with changing! Just navigating the bathrooms.” 

“I’ll figure it out.” Liu Qingge spoke with a deadpan, ruined only when his lips twitched. It appeared he had fun teasing Shizun as well. He held up the bag, nodded to the two of them as a goodbye, and swept off to the bathrooms. 

Smiling to himself, Luo Binghe slid his chair close to his shizun. He aimed a little close, and jostled him. There was a slight annoyed huff, and a hand reached over to pat his shoulder. It wasn’t as great as a head pat, but it was a close second. “You’re not going to change?” Shen Yuan asked.

“No. These clothes are more generous than what was given to Ming-gege,” Luo Binghe said, and he flashed him a flirtatious smile. “Unless Yuan-gege is offering to help me.” 

Groaning, Shen Yuan covered his face with his hands. “I didn’t mean it like that!” 

I did, Luo Binghe thought with an inward sigh. He pulled one foot up to the chair and folded his leg. “Shizun,” he murmured, hugging his knee to his chest. 

“Mn?” Shen Yuan peeled his hands away from his face to give Luo Binghe his full attention. 

“It’s nice here,” he said, voice low and slow. He rested his chin on his knee. It was hard to beat the habitual need to be formal and respectful, especially to his shizun. 

“It’s… alright,” Shen Yuan said with a wince that said he disagreed. He reached over and patted Luo Binghe’s head, his eyes warm. “This master is glad Binghe likes it here.”

Warmth cascaded through Luo Binghe’s body, and he melted. He nearly let himself collapse into his shizun’s lap, and forced himself to stay upright. “This disciple missed you,” he murmured, his throat tight. His eyes watered despite his best effort.

An embarrassed smile tugged at Shen Yuan’s lips. He shrank again, as he usually did without a fan to hide behind. With a soft sigh, he rubbed the top of Luo Binghe’s hat. “This master missed Binghe, too.” 

Reaching up, Luo Binghe tugged off his hat. He shamelessly offered his head, to which Shen Yuan tutted while he hid the pleased curve of his lips. Fingers worked their way through his curls, and he was at peace. Every second they spent in this world, he wondered again why they needed to return at all. There were no realms to conquer. No Xin Mo. No sects to run from. Just the three of them. The world was so soft here. It was a delicate dream.

Shouting broke the mood. Luo Binghe sat up and turned towards the source. Unfortunately, it came from the bathrooms. Shen Yuan paused, and scrutinized the commotion. 

“I’ll make sure Ming-gege is alright,” Luo Binghe said. He put back on the hat, and hopped off the chair. There was a quiet sound from Shen Yuan, but no further word of protest. Whatever he had wanted to say didn’t seem that important, so Luo Binghe continued on.

Two shapes became people and their faces grew clearer. Neither were the war god. They were some kids rough housing and shoving each other into the wall. When Luo Binghe drew near, they stopped and gave him a wide-eyed glance. He ignored them and stepped into the men’s restroom. 

Within, in front of the mirror, Liu Qingge leaned over a sink and washed his face. Even if his form was somewhat blurry from this distance, Luo Binghe felt a rather smug sense of satisfaction. His shishu looked good in his new outfit. He wore looser, more comfortable jeans and a jacket over a light sweatshirt. It wasn’t anywhere near as form fitting as his last clothes, but he still cut a dashing figure. 

Straightening, Liu Qingge shifted part of his awareness to Luo Binghe. He raised an eyebrow in lieu of a greeting, and used a paper towel to dry his face. 

“Ming-gege is handsome,” Luo Binghe said. The daring compliment sent a little flash of anxiety through him. His heart clenched. It was easy to ignore. Mostly. 

A pleased smile poked at the corner of Liu Qingge’s lips. It vanished quickly. “Binghe chose well.” He nodded his approval, and turned towards him. 

Instead of heading back out and leading them back to Shen Yuan, Luo Binghe stepped further into the bathroom. There was no one else around. The place was kept decently clean, and had the faint odor of some sort of plastic perfume. It wasn’t the most romantic of places, but there weren’t a lot of options for Luo Binghe to find his shishu alone. He stopped in front of him with his hands resting in his jacket pockets. He asked, “Why haven’t you told him?” 

In a second, the warmth on Liu Qingge’s face vanished. The muscles in his jaw twitched. “What?” 

There wasn’t any way that Liu Qingge did not understand him. Luo Binghe planned to let the question sit until his shishu gave in and answered. Unfortunately, the sharp switch between the tenderness of Liu Qingge’s expression and the coldness he exhibited now was too close to the jarring switch in his shizun right before he was pushed into the Abyss. Fear sprouted uncertainties in his mind, and his mouth ran free, “I don’t understand. You’re the War God of Bai Zhan. You fight everyday; you fight everything. You fought for your position. Why don’t you fight for him?” 

Shocked, Liu Qingge stiffened. His eyes widened. Seconds later, his face blossomed into an embarrassed hue. He glared, ready to bare his teeth. 

“You love him!”

That was the last cord, apparently. Liu Qingge caught his collar and swung him around to slam him against the wall. “Y-You-“ he choked. His face was red, and his eyes wide. “Shut up!” 

“I’m not…” Luo Binghe said with a sigh. His back smarted. The bad thing about this world was the lack of cultivation. He was weaker here. “This Binghe doesn’t understand. That’s all, Liu-shishu. Please. This lowly one is not trying to make light of your feelings.” 

“Feelings?!” Liu Qingge shouted through his teeth. “Who has feelings?!!”

“Shishu…” Luo Binghe sighed. This was probably a mistake, especially if he couldn’t even get Liu Qingge to admit he had feelings. He had pushed too far — gotten too impatient and greedy. Though he had been almost certain the two might have kissed earlier… several times, actually. If not for that stupid old man and his crass language about men loving men…

If not for Shen Yuan spotting him. 

With a frustrated curse, Liu Qingge let go and stalked away. He glared at Luo Binghe, prowling back and forth like a threatened animal. His fists tightened at his sides. “Why haven’t you done anything?!” 

“It’s not like I haven’t tried,” Luo Binghe muttered. He reached up and straightened his collar, shaking his head. Grievously, he had been too young in his shizun’s eyes. And now… well. “Shizun is…” He struggled to find a delicate term. 

Hackles slowly lowering, Liu Qingge grumbled, “Oblivious.”

“Yes.” Luo Binghe frowned at his feet. 

Now that the topic wasn’t entirely on Liu Qingge, he started to calm down. He still looked distinctly uncomfortable. His blush stained his skin. He frowned at Luo Binghe, looking bullied and slightly betrayed. 

If Luo Binghe were playing this smart, he would let this conversation die here. But there was an opening. He lifted his eyes and caught his shishu’s. They stared at another, seconds drawing out with every thunderous heart beat. Luo Binghe used to think he would do anything to be by his shizun’s side. The darkest parts of him, obsessive jealousy, played with the idea of chasing all others away. It would be just himself and his shizun in their own world. When he was younger, he used to pretend as much when it was just the two of them in the bamboo house.

Except Luo Binghe had known, even then, that his shizun would wilt if he were locked away. He built connections the way a spider wove together a web. It was a subtle thing that one might only see at the right angle. People had a habit of accidentally running into it, and were unable to escape the charm that was Shen Yuan at the center. He was most beautiful surrounded by those who cared for him. 

When his shizun got poisoned by Without a Cure, that brute started dropping by regularly. Even then, it was more than obvious to see the attraction between the two men.

The idea Luo Binghe would have to share his shizun with someone else used to send him into quiet heartbreaks and rage that he tried to pack away and hide from his shizun. Liu Qingge had received a lot of his jealous ire. It had upset him that his shizun had to depend on someone else, especially someone as brutish and rough and inane as that man.

That was until Luo Binghe actually saw Liu Qingge.

There was a quiet elegance to his shishu. Every single movement was not so much calculated as habitually woven into his soul. Hours upon hours of rigorous training had created an inexplicable control over every movement. Even when he moved with abrupt rage, he was more akin to the ferocity of a controlled storm. He was the wind; sharp and ruthless, sweeping across the landscape. He was heavy rain clouds that shielded all that stood behind him. He was the crack of thunder whose stirring melody shook the world.

He was a storm that had left its mark.

Oblivious, Liu Qingge had said.

With his heart in his throat, Luo Binghe said, “He isn’t the only one.”

Liu Qingge startled. 

What Luo Binghe felt for his shishu – it wasn’t love. Not in the way he saw Shen Yuan. But it was a possibility; a road he wouldn’t mind exploring hand in hand with his shizun. There were so many hidden depths to Liu Qingge, with harsh edges and intricate knots that Luo Binghe ached to untangle. 

He wanted to have the chance to.

Lips parting, Liu Qingge took half a step back. 

That step pierced a lung. Pain sprouted like a vicious weed. It was a hollow and devastating ache. Luo Binghe’s hands twitched at his sides. 

Greedy. 

His mouth dried. 

Insatiable. 

Luo Binghe had known–

Unwanted.

–they had only just started getting to know another. It’s only truly been two days–

Beast.

Luo Binghe had a fickle heart. It chose who he let in. Though as soon as it decided, as soon as he knew, it opened and wept and bled for that person–

Importunate.

–and it used to only be one. Just one impossible thing he could not have because he was a– 

Demon.

Unwanted. An orphan. Jealous. Not enough. Never enough. Selfish and greedy, always wanting more than he could take. It was too soon. It had been far too soon. Luo Binghe should have waited. He should have played different cards– 

Would it ever have been enough?

No.

This always would have been the result.

Rejection. 

“Binghe,” Liu Qingge stirred. He took half a step forward.

It was too late. Whatever consolation his shishu wanted to offer – it wasn’t what Luo Binghe wanted. It was a consoling pat for the heart of a broken child, not something for a man who was desperate to be loved. “We should check on Shizun,” Luo Binghe said, and he wrapped every broken piece of himself up. Like throwing a bandage around a limb without setting the bone. He wrenched that bandage tight and let it hurt. “This Binghe is glad Liu-shishu finds the clothes adequate.” 

“Binghe.” Liu Qingge took another step forward, his face twisting with uncertainty and concern. “I-” 

“We need to check on him!” Luo Binghe interrupted. He hated how his eyes burned and how the bathroom faded behind globs of tears. How would he explain this to his shizun? He took in gulping gasps, attempting to force emotions back down. 

Outside, distantly, they heard a commotion. Someone screamed.

Luo Binghe lurched towards the bathroom entry.

A hand caught his forearm, and wrenched him around.

“Luo. Binghe.” Liu Qingge spoke through his teeth. His face was red. 

There was a mole underneath his eye. Luo Binghe had thought about kissing it before. 

“What?” Liu Qingge searched his face, looking for something. He caught Luo Binghe’s other arm and held him so tightly it ached and grounded him. “What!?” 

“Shizun-” 

“Shut the fuck up!” Liu Qingge shouted. “What the fuck do you mean? Explain!” 

Anger lit his insides. A thousand ways to be cruel popped up like helpful suggestions. Except. 

Luo Binghe couldn’t do that. 

He had hurt his shizun because he could not have him, and he refused to do that again here, when it was his shishu who did not want him. It was not their fault that he was what he was. It was his own fault. Taking in a slow and shaky breath, Luo Binghe reached up and ripped off the hands that held him. “You already know, so why are you asking?”

“Someone call an ambulance!” A voice screamed.

Something was wrong. Luo Binghe turned to run out the door. There was a familiar sweeping sensation.

Shizun. 

Someone screamed about blood. 

Before his foot hit the ground, the world turned dark.

Awareness slid to him piece by piece. It was sluggish. He became aware of his body first. The aftereffects of the qi deviation burned through his abused meridians. He felt tender and weak. There was something else. A poison. His own body fought against it. Heat lay over his skin like a wet blanket, with flashes of cold. It muddled his thoughts. 

Luo Binghe tried to grasp onto his consciousness. There was the sharp smell of herbs, and the cleanliness of what could only be Qian Cao Peak. Voices.

 “Why isn’t he waking!?” 

Someone protectively stood beside him, cool fingers pressed to the inside of his wrist. Qi slid through him, and soothed the turmoil of the poison. 

“Liu-shixiong, please. Calm down.” 

It was Liu Qingge? Yes. It was Shishu. Anger sharpened his shishu’s words, the meaning behind them was lost on his poisoned mind. Voices shot back and forth as darkness blurred the definition of consciousness. When Luo Binghe awakened again, a hand held his cheek and a thumb traced over his brow. 

His body knew that touch. It was his shizun. 

“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu murmured. “He’s burning up, Mu-shidi.” 

“Thank you, Shen-shixiong. I am aware.” 

“Then do something about it!” Liu Qingge snapped. 

Mu Qingfang sighed. “Alright. Liu-shixiong, I need a moment to speak with Shen-shixiong, please.” 

There was some grumbling and more arguing. Finally, after what seemed like hours, a shuffle of movement. A door slammed shut. A flash of qi swept through the room. “Well. I suspect we don’t have that much time, Shen-shixiong.” 

“What’s going on?” Shen Qingqiu asked, voice level and cool. His fingers twitched on Luo Binghe’s face, the only betrayal of his nerves. 

Mu Qingfang took in a sharp breath. His voice was tight from fatigue. Even the slight irritation in his tone was subdued by how exhausted he was. That did not make his question any less horrifying.

 “How long have you known your disciple is a demon?” 

Chapter Text

Shen Qingqiu needed ten business days to process the past three days, please. Events kept happening and they would not stop or give him a single breath of peace. What the fuck? Mu Qingfang stood on the other side of the room, skin pale from lack of sleep and proper care. He stood with his hands folded behind his back, and his shoulders slumped from heavy drain. His shidi had a subtle handsomeness to him. It was one that grew like the beginning of a rising sun, its beauty only strengthened the longer you basked in its presence. 

That beauty was only mildly damped now that he had a stern, aggravated expression. His eyes narrowed on Shen Qingqiu as if he had trampled on all of his precious medicinal herbs. “Shen-shixiong. Please answer the question.” 

A sharp breath cut into Shen Qingqiu’s lungs. At first when Mu Qingfang had bullied the war god from the room, Shen Qingqiu had suspected some bad news about Without a Cure or anything else. He never expected that the man had figured out what Luo Binghe was. How could he not have expected this? The three of them were unconscious. How would Luo Binghe conceal his demonic qi if he was unconscious?!

Plus with the System gone to shit, did that mean that Luo Binghe did not have the protagonist’s safety halo!?

He stood next to his disciple and began to plan their escape off the mountain. There had to be some places within the demon realm that the two of them could hide, at least until the System repaired itself. The text box did not look any better than before, and now there was an annoying constant tone grinding in his ears. He straightened and stared the doctor down. He had to be ready to face his shidi and get Luo Binghe somewhere safe. 

At the moment, Mu Qingfang stood next to the privacy talisman that he had placed, ready to be torn down at any moment. Right on the other side of that door, Liu Qingge waited. If Mu Qingfang called out for the war god and told him the truth… it would be over. There was no way that Shen Qingqiu could win a fight against Liu Qingge. Not alone. And, for some reason, Luo Binghe wasn’t waking up. Was he poisoned? What the fuck!?

They needed Xin Mo. 

Where was that cursed sword? 

“Was he behind the Immortal Conference?” Mu Qingfang asked, voice tight. There was a deadly flash in his eyes.

For the first time since Shen Qingqiu met the doctor, he felt fear. The man had never been overtly powerful or dangerous, yet right now Shen Qingqiu felt as if one wrong word would forfeit his life. “No!”

Mu Qingfang studied him, each passing second accentuated with the long pause.

Jaw tight, Shen Qingqiu stepped between the doctor and his disciple. “Luo Binghe had nothing to do with the Immortal Conference, and nothing to do with the demonic invasion. I doubt he even knew he was a demon at that time.” 

“Oh?” Mu Qingfang raised an eyebrow. “But you did?” 

Shen Qingqiu couldn’t stop his startled breath.

“I suppose that it would have been a good excuse to explain your behavior towards the boy in the beginning,” Mu Qingfang said, absently. 

Would have been…? Shen Qingqiu did not know what to say in response to that. His eyebrows pressed together in confusion.

“A disciple found the three of you in your Bamboo House. It appeared as if there had been some type of altercation. I had thought Liu-shixiong had found out, though his apparent concern for the boy seems to say otherwise.” Mu Qingfang relayed this information with a guarded expression. His shoulders were tense and his eyes were piercing. 

“...no,” Shen Qingqiu said, slowly. “Liu-shidi does not know.” After another awkward pause, he added, “Binghe isn’t a spy, Mu-shidi. He is just a boy.” 

“Hm.” 

Drawing his shoulders back, Shen Qingqiu hardened his expression and pulled on the full force of his station. “Mu-shidi, Luo Binghe has been nothing but a dedicated student and an asset to this sect. Just because he is a demon does not mean that he is evil! Demons, like humans, have the capacity to be good.”

Mu Qingfang seemed to be waiting for something. When nothing happened, his eyebrows rose. “You seem to truly believe that.” 

Confused, Shen Qingqiu lifted his chin and narrowed his eyes. He hated that he was still without a fan. “I do. Binghe is good, Mu-shidi.”

Tentatively, Mu Qingfang drew away from the door. He paced, rubbing a hand over his chin. His lips pulled into a tight, thin line. “The three of you were… gone. There is no better way of describing it. I did extensive testing.” It went without saying that he hadn’t slept since the three of them had been discovered in the Bamboo House. “Your breathing was steady, but you were not sleeping. Nothing could wake you. But there was something binding the three of you – some strange type of energy. We decided it best to place the three of you close, and to supplement it.” His eyes flickered towards Shen Qingqiu. “There were a few times you awoke.” 

Shock spilled through Shen Qingqiu. He straightened. “I did?” At some point, his hand had started to thread through Luo Binghe’s hair. It was soothing some anxious piece of him. Fuck. What if as Shen Qingqiu, he was murmuring and having conversations as Shen Yuan? 

“Yes,” Mu Qingfang said, slowly. He was eying him again, as if waiting for something. “Only through extensive testing, was I able to locate what I think is the curse. When the energy fluctuated and was at its weakest was when you returned.” His lips pursed. “You were the only one having a reaction. That, and many other troubling factors, led me to the conclusion that the three of you aren’t simply losing consciousness.”

Because it seemed as if he was waiting for an answer, Shen Qingqiu nodded. 

“And Shen-shixiong did not think to mention this when he first woke from this curse?” Mu Qingfang asked, anger breaking the pleasant facade of his bedside manner. His hands curled into shaking fists.

“I…” Shen Qingqiu started, his throat closing. He bowed his head. “This one apologizes.” 

“I suppose,” Mu Qingfang said, voice hot with frustration, “it might have been difficult for you to explain.” 

Shen Qingqiu raised his eyebrows.

“That a curse is bringing you, your disciple, and now your shidi back to the realm you came from.” 

The very world dropped from underneath Shen Qingqiu’s feet. 

“Though, that would mean that it is not a curse, is it, Shen-shixiong?” Mu Qingfang said. “Whatever is binding you here appears to be having some difficulties.”

A loud shriek cracked across Shen Qingqiu’s skull, the System screaming garbage at him. His heart raced. He started to respond, to deny it. 

“Ah, I would be very careful here, Shen-shixiong,” Mu Qingfang continued, “on what you are planning to say. I would take stock of your person, mainly what you will find around your neck.” 

Startled, Shen Qingqiu’s hands flew to the collar of his robes. He pulled out an amulet on a loose string of leather. It was an ugly thing, like someone found a discarded piece of woodcarving and thought to make it into a piece of jewelry. He tried to raise it above his head, and could not by any force of will lift it above his chin. The muscles in his arms started to seize and tremble. 

“The one who bestowed the amulet on you is the one who needs to take it off,” Mu Qingfang explained, voice bland. “I am not certain if you have heard of it. It’s the Honorous Snare of the Spectre.” He waited, to see if his shixiong had any knowledge of it.

To his own bafflement, Shen Qingqiu had not. Such a thing had not come up within the original book. What was this!? He shook his head, too afraid to speak. 

Mu Qingfang relaxed slightly. His eyebrow raised. “I see. Well. I suppose what is most pertinent to you is the fact that every time you say something that you believe is a lie, the leather cord around the amulet will begin to shrink. It will only stop and revert back to its original size once you speak the truth. Fail to do so, and you will lose your head.” 

Wait.

There was a plant that worked similarly – the Seeking Spectre of True Light. What looked like a forest was actually just one massive organism. All the trees had connecting roots and had the ability to trap all manner of creatures within. It was featured in an extremely intriguing side-plot – potential wife candidate number 348 had managed to influence Xin Mo with a wayward explosion of energy and instead of Luo Binghe teleporting back to his intended home, he was thrown into the middle of the Seeking Spectre of True Light. He, of course, had managed to bring Potential Wife 348 with him.

The two had started off at odds, fighting another, and found themselves ensnared in a tangle of tree limbs. Eventually both realized that every time they were honest with another, the trees loosened their hold.

It, of course, ended in strange tree bondage papapa… 

But afterwards there had been so many ancient buildings and ruins that the two came across! Long forgotten sects with unique techniques! The possibilities were endless. 

Even with the cool worldbuilding to sate him for the entire arc Shen Qingqiu found himself irritated. Why didn’t Luo Binghe just use Xin Mo to teleport back out!? 

Stupid hack author!

Mu Qingfang reacted to his silence with a raised eyebrow. “Believe it or not, but I do not intend for it to behead either of my shixiongs.” 

Either. Right. Even though his shidi had figured out the truth, he still referred to Shen Qingqiu – Shen Yuan – as a martial brother. 

“Do you intend to harm the sect?” Mu Qingfang asked.

“No!” Shen Yuan said, aghast. “I never intended to hurt anyone.” 

Mu Qingfang nodded, as if it were the results of a test that he had already predicted. “Did you have a choice when you took over?” 

“No…” Jaw tight, Shen Yuan glanced over towards the broken dialogue box. It flickered red, and there was an annoying broken beep. “Mu-shidi,” he said, and swallowed, “Master Mu. This one does not know how much of this he is able to talk about.” 

Expression falling away from its hardened distrust, Mu Qingfang nodded. “Understood. I suspected. This shidi apologizes for putting Shen-shixiong in a precarious situation.”

“...Master Mu,” Shen Yuan said, tight throat clinging onto the words. His eyes dropped. An apology sat on his tongue. He had always felt guilty for lying and stepping into a role that he had not earned. But there was never any way for him to fix it. So, he ignored those feelings. He shut them all away. Now they leaked out.

“Shen-shixiong,” the doctor said, pointedly, “I can pinpoint the exact moment where it was you and not him.” His expression softened. “It’s been years. I would like to think the two of us have at least become friends. You have more than proven your worth as my shixiong. Understood?” 

With a building lump in his throat, Shen Yuan nodded. He realized with a start that at some point Luo Binghe was holding his hand. When had that happened? When he glanced over at his disciple, he appeared knocked out cold. He would have believed it — if not for the comforting grip on his fingers.

The doctor sighed. “Again, I apologize for the extremes of this situation. I just… needed to be sure. Your disciple will wake up soon enough. If not, I can administer something to help. I simply wanted to be certain that the sect wasn’t in danger. From either of you.” He glanced up worriedly at Shen Yuan. “You had nothing to do with the sowers?” 

“No,” Shen Yuan said. “Of course not.”

Bit by bit, Mu Qingfang began to relax. His expression dissolved into a light smile and he said, “Of course. Shen-shixiong, forgive me. Let me take that amulet off, and let us discuss Disciple Luo-”

The privacy talisman on the door burned off. 

Shen Qingqiu barely had enough time to stuff the amulet back into his robes before the door flew open. 

On the other side, the sect leader stood with Liu Qingge draped in his arms. Tight breaths shuttered from the war god’s lips. He was a powerful man; always pristine and in control. Now he looked broken. His skin was ashen, blood drained from his nose, eyes, and lips. Yue Qingyuan wore a hardened expression and he threw a tight look across the room. “Please excuse the interruption-”

“Qingge!” Shen Qingqiu cried. He ripped away from the bed to rush across the room. To his shock, Luo Binghe was with him. Both crowded around the entryway. 

Yue Qingyuan’s face twisted as he tried to restrain his bafflement.

Without anyone’s permission, Luo Binghe stole his shishu from the sect leader’s arms. The war god grunted, head rolling against his shoulder. Blood smeared over their light medical robes. Luo Binghe walked across the room and gently set his shishu down onto one of the beds. 

Shen Qingqiu was at his side, hands fluttering nervously. He cut his disciple a sharp glance and with his voice lowered, he sternly said, “Eavesdropping is unbecoming.” 

Having enough sense to appear chastened, Luo Binghe murmured, “...this disciple was waiting for a strategic opening in case he was needed to help Shizun.” 

Choosing not to justify that with a response, Shen Qingqiu turned his attention to his shidi. 

Breathing heavily, Liu Qingge looked up at the two of them. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead, and his skin was sickly pale. He grunted, “Stop. Fussing.” 

Mu Qingfang appeared on the other side of the bed. He stole one of Liu Qingge’s wrists, and concentrated with his eyebrows furrowed. His jaw twitched. “I…” His shoulders dropped. “This foolish one apologizes, Liu-shixiong. You’re affected by proximity to Disciple Luo as well, it seems. I had thought-”

“Doesn’t. Matter.” Liu Qingge sighed. He glowered between the three of them. “Now we know.” His eyes slid to Shen Qingqiu, and there was a new defined level of respect in them. Ah?! What was that look for?? Was it because now they both had a kinship of being tortured by a broken System??? What the fuck! After a few moments, the war god looked at Luo Binghe. His expression softened. “You’re awake.”

On the other side of the room, the sect leader cleared his throat. He waited until he had everyone’s attention, with his hands folded behind his back, and he dipped his head. “This one understands that the three of you are in recovery. He would like to give you the chance to recuperate, but there are extremely pressing matters.” His eyes landed on Shen Qingiqu. “Huan Hua Palace is demanding the return of Luo Binghe-” 

Anger sharpened Liu Qingge. He sprung into a sitting position, and threw an arm out to shield Luo Binghe from the sect leader. “No.”

With a startled yet patient smile, the sect leader continued, “I have no intention of forcing Disciple Luo anywhere he does not wish to go. The Huan Hua Sect is on their way here with other sects to act as ‘witness’, including the Zhao Hua and Tian Yi sects.” His eyes shifted over to Shen Qingqiu, smile growing strained. “And they have gathered… substantial evidence against Qingqiu-shidi.” 

“Shizun isn’t responsible for the sowers!” Luo Binghe said, determined. He stepped past Shen Qingqiu and made himself a barrier between the sect leader and his shizun. For a breathless moment, Shen Qingqiu lost his train of thought. Broad shoulders stood in front of him. Tall and proud. He had the thought many times, but it slammed into him full force now: Luo Binghe was no longer a child. The person who stood in front of him now was a man. A man that looked ready to burn down the world, just for him.

What a foolish thought!

As if Luo Binghe would do anything of the sort for an old man such as himself!  

Something went wrong with Yue Qingyuan’s expression. He looked as if he had bitten into a cake, only to realize too late that it was soap. The expression cleared as soon as it formed, and he said with a politician’s ease, “It does not matter what we believe, Disciple Luo. The matter at hand is that there is a campaign building against Qingqiu-shidi, and we must work together to gather our arguments against it.” He turned to Mu Qingfang. “What have you discovered about the curse, Mu-shidi?” 

There wasn’t a long drawn out silence. The pause between the question and the answer was normal in length, without a hint of hesitation. Mu Qingfang didn’t even twitch a glance towards anyone else in the room. His expression remained neutral and pleasant.

To Shen Qingqiu, though, that silence dragged. It hung over his head like a heavy slab of stone, ready to fall on him.

The doctor folded his hands behind his back and answered, “This shidi was successful in using both the soul-summoning array and energy transfusion to bring Shen-shixiong back. As I suspected, their souls and qi are forcefully intertwined. Bringing Shen-shixiong back brought the other two back as well.” He dipped his head. “Though, you are not asking about that, you’re questioning if they are able to make an appearance for a meeting in preparation for Huan Hua’s arrival.” 

Yue Qingyuan wavered at being caught. Face tightening, he said, “This shixiong is also worried after his shidis and the disciple of the sect. Have you come up with anything to mitigate the curse?” 

A neutral smile pulled at Mu Qingfang’s lips. “I have a few theories. None that I can be quite certain about. The curse has rooted itself into their qi as well as their souls. From what research I have been able to gather, there is only one readily available method.” 

“What is it?” Shen Qingqiu asked, feeling his heart in his throat. He ached for a fan, and his fingers tightened around something warm.

It was Liu Qingge’s arm.

Ah! When had he started holding on to him!?

Mu Qingfang dipped his head towards the three of them in apology and stated, ”Dual cultivation.” 

Complete and utter silence.

The sect leader’s mask broke and his face twisted into a pained expression, not unlike one where you learned that your parents still actively had sex. 

On the bed, Liu Qingge became so stiff that a mountain could look at him in envy. His skin painted a bright, colorful rush of red that instantly spread up to the crown of his head. 

Luo Binghe’s hands spasmed, and a sharp intake of breath lifted his shoulders. 

Plowing through the awkward pause, Mu Qingfang continued, “Reaching an equilibrium with the three different systems of qi, along with pacifying the misalignment of each of your souls would require a cumulative-” 

“But we’re all men!” Shen Qingqiu interrupted, and became horrified that his voice had cracked. 

The entire room turned to stare at him. 

After a few beats of silence, Mu Qingfang said, “...yes?” 

“That-” Shen Qingqiu was about to spit out, that couldn’t work! Then by the grace of whatever god, he stopped himself and snapped his mouth shut in order not to look completely ignorant. 

His pause was not missed by the doctor, who lost his cordial smile and said, “...I will provide the necessary learning materials and lecture on safe practices.” 

Abso-fucking-lutely NOT! 

Shen Qingqiu would rather willingly submit himself to becoming a human stick. “That won’t be necessary,” he said, with as much dignity as he could muster. Since he did not have his fan, he raised his robes to cover the bottom half of his face. His skin was hot. 

“...I really think it will be.” Mu Qingfang sighed.

“Thanking Mu-shisu,” Luo Binghe said with a deep bow, as if being offered to learn an extremely rare combat technique. “This disciple will do his best.” 

WHAT!?

There was a very real possibility that Shen Qingqiu might faint. 

Not that Liu Qingge was doing any better. He had managed to invent a whole new shade of red with his blush. He sat frozen, brain buffering.

Mu Qingfang sighed, expression twisting with an aggrieved patience. “Do any of you have experience?” 

Straightening, Luo Binghe declared, “No! This one has been waiting for his true loves!” 

The righteous declaration snapped Liu Qingge out of his internal crisis. He stared at Luo Binghe as if he had promised to steal his chastity.

Throat tight, Shen Qingqiu turned away from them all. He considered the possibility of making a hasty escape from the room, System malfunction be damned. Would it make him pass out again and save him from this awful conversation?

Awkwardly clearing his throat, Yue Qingyuan said, “...if there are any developments, keep this shixiong informed.” He added with a slight wince, “About the curse.” 

“Of course. This doctor would recommend all three patients stay on Qian Cao Peak until further notice,” Mu Qingfang said with a sigh, “though he understands the gravity of the situation at hand. Would Zhangmen-shixiong be amenable to pushing back the meeting to this evening?” 

“Yes,” the sect leader nodded.

“This master hopes that time allows for him to go back to his Bamboo House and bathe?” Shen Qingqiu asked, stiffly. He wore too thin robes, and there was a layer of grime that had built on his skin. 

With a dispirited acceptance, Mu Qingfang said, “Yes, Shen-shixiong. Before leaving, please allow this doctor to run a few more tests.” 

“If this disciple can make a suggestion?” Luo Binghe asked.

“Mn?” Mu Qingfang glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. It was hard to believe that he knew what Luo Binghe was now – he did not treat him any differently.

“Can some ingredients be delivered to the Bamboo House? Along with a few changes of clothes for Liu-shishu?” Luo Binghe asked, dipping into a bow. 

A slight smile tucked into the corner of Mu Qingfang’s lips. “Of course, Disciple Luo. I’ve already requested for new robes to be acquired for you. Give me a moment to make the necessary arrangements, and I will be back.” 

Hesitantly pleased, Luo Binghe nodded his thanks.

All of them bid a small farewell while the doctor and the sect leader vacated the room. 

Shen Qingqiu let out a long breath. The muscles that had tightened on the back of his neck loosened. He swept wrinkles from his thin robes and paced to the other side of the room to find more layers. From the haze of light from the windows, it was early morning. Maybe dawn. He had a few hours yet to prepare to face his martial siblings. He was not looking forward to it. How would he defend himself against a situation that he had no answers for? 

As he was on his way, someone caught his hand.

Head bowed, Luo Binghe reverently dropped to the ground on a knee and held that hand in both of his own. “Please, Shizun. Let this disciple heal you!”

Chapter Text

Lingering aches sponged up Liu Qingge’s sides. He felt as if he had overdone training and ripped his muscles apart. It was awful. He had done such a thing in the past before, though usually the pain was focused around a specific area of his body. Right now it was everywhere. He had absolutely no idea how Shen Qingqiu managed to bite back every single wince after being nearly half a city away from Luo Binghe. 

At the moment, his shixiong sputtered in the middle of the room. His ears were red, and he used his free hand to cover up the bottom of his face. On his knee, Luo Binghe propositioned his master with an earnest (and eager) expression. 

“Binghe!”

“Shizun-“

“Do not call me that while asking… th-that!” 

At least Liu Qingge wasn’t the only one thoroughly mortified by the topic at hand. 

“What should this disciple call you then?” Luo Binghe asked, eyes sharp and challenging. 

Yuan-gege sat unsaid, yet it had its intended effect: a legitimate blush managed to color Shen Qingqiu’s face, and he gaped down at his disciple in stupefaction.

“Please,” Luo Binghe pleaded, face sobering. “If this one can cure-“

“There is no guarantee it will!” Shen Qingqiu snapped. He tore his hand out of his disciple’s grip. “Binghe, you said it yourself! You -“ he stammered, unable to finish his own sentence. You’re saving yourself for your true loves. Clearing his throat, he continued, “This old master will not take that away from you!” 

The fact that Luo Binghe managed not to groan aloud was a testament in itself. Even Liu Qingge had a hard time not rolling his eyes. 

He’s saving himself for you, you dense idiot!

Gathering himself, Luo Binghe softened his voice and tried again, “If this one can provide-“

“No.” Shen Qingqiu glared at his disciple, leaving no room for argument. “This master will not discuss this any further, understood?”

Face falling, Luo Binghe stared up at his shizun. He tried a different tactic: his dark eyes watered piteously and clutched a hand at his chest. “Is this one truly so disgusting…?” 

Startled, Shen Qingqiu fluttered back to his side and held his face in his hands. “No! Binghe, no. You are not disgusting.” He cleaned up his face with gentle thumbs.

"...this Binghe is not too gross to sleep with?" There were more waterworks. 

"No!" Shen Qingqiu was appalled. "No, Binghe is handsome! Binghe is the best! Anyone would want to sleep with Binghe!" 

“...so…” Luo Binghe met his shizun’s eyes, looking suspiciously calm. “Shizun would want to sleep with this Binghe?” 

Mouth falling open, Shen Qingqiu stared in shock. “B-Binghe!” After a moment, his hand flew to the collar of his robes. The pink of his cheeks strengthened and he snapped, “Binghe! You-” He grabbed at the air for a fan to smack his disciple. Instead, he twisted away. “Do not take advantage of this master’s predicament!” 

What?

“Shizun!” Luo Binghe cried, his voice reaching a shrill of genuine fear. “This one apologizes! He is sorry!” He caught onto the back of Shen Qingqiu’s robes and buried his face in them. “He only wants to help!” 

Before anyone else could say a word, the door opened. Mu Qingfang stepped in the room and closed the door. In what could only be the epitome of professionalism, he sufficiently ignored the scene laid out before him. “Alright, Shen-shixiong. Let’s get that artifact off of you.” 

Narrowing his eyes, Liu Qingge spoke up for the first time, “What?” A trickle of satisfaction warmed his gut when both Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe turned their full attention to the sound of his voice. 

“Mu-shidi put something on Shizun,” Luo Binghe said, petulantly. He paused, and there was a conflicting set of emotions in his eyes. 

“What.” Liu Qingge threw a glare at the doctor.

“It’s mostly harmless,” Mu Qingfang answered with a sigh. “Provided that Shen-shixiong speaks the truth… eventually. This one had to…” He paused, uncertain of what he could say.

Tutting, Shen Qingqiu dragged his disciple off the floor. His face was red as he carefully extracted his robes from grasping hands. He said, “Mu Qingfang knows the truth.” 

Liu Qingge twitched.

“Shizun did not answer this one’s question…” Luo Binghe said with a pout.

“Of all-!” Shen Qingqiu shot a truly venomous glare at his disciple. He looked every bit the “Original Goods,” as Shen Yuan would say. “Binghe! We are done talking about this!” He waved his disciple off and started pacing. 

Luo Binghe followed his shizun like a disciplined dog, dragging his feet with a pout.

The Qing Jing Peak Lord started to frantically mumble underneath his breath. “...acting bent! What the…?”

Turning his attention away from his grumbling shixiong, Mu Qingfang said, “To be frank Liu-shixiong, this shidi expected you to have the most complaints about such a revelation.”

Frowning, Liu Qingge barely stopped himself from folding his arms. He hardly ever complained!

A smile tugged on Mu Qingfang’s lips. “Excuse me, poor choice of words on my part, Liu-shixiong.” 

Yet he did not correct his statement. 

A few more words escaped Shen Qingqiu’s frenzied mumbling, none of which made sense. “...stupid wife plot…!” When he turned and saw his disciple there, he threw him a withering glare and he stepped around him to continue his mumbling tirade. “...me?! Me!? I’m not gay!!” 

Whatever the hell that meant.

“...Shen is Shen.” Liu Qingge glanced away from the doctor to glare at the wall. He ignored the way his skin warmed. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mu Qingfang’s expression soften. “He certainly is.” The doctor turned his attention back to his shixiong, amused as Shen Qingqiu continued to pace around their room with a despondent disciple at his heels. “Ah, Shen-shixiong, if you’re ready?” 

“Please!”

The doctor stepped over to him as Shen Qingqiu tugged an ugly pendant out his robes. Both startled. The artifact was shrinking at an alarming rate around Shen Qingqiu’s neck.

“What has Shen-shixiong lied about recently?” Mu Qingfang asked, clearly humored.

Balking at the tightening amulet, Shen Qingqiu said, “I don’t know!” He was bordering on acting a little more like Shen Yuan. It might have been because everyone in the room knew.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Mu Qingfang calmed. The corner of his lip quirked and he held out a hand. The ugly thing unlatched from Shen Qingqiu’s neck and jumped eagerly into the doctor’s awaiting palm. 

“That’s it?” Liu Qingge demanded. 

“Care to clarify, Liu-shixiong?” Mu Qingfang asked. 

Luo Binghe answered, “Mu-shishu’s reaction to learning the truth is… very accepting.” He had known without even looking at Liu Qingge what he had meant. 

“Ah, well, my reaction to Shen-shixiong’s condition is mine and mine alone,” Mu Qingfang said, succinctly with a bland smile. “Though,” his smile softened as he spoke, “this shidi can admit that the current Shen-shixiong has been a friend, and now he knows that his shixiong does not intend any harm.” He held up a warding hand. “Though that does not mean that I will refrain from looking into this matter more.” 

Skin turning waxen, Shen Qingqiu murmured, “You think we should tell the others.” 

“At least Sect Leader Yue,” Mu Qingfang said. 

“No.” Liu Qingge grabbed fistfulls of the sheets. The idea, if he were honest with himself, frightened him. He did not want to be forced into a situation where he had to choose between his loyalty to the sect and his loyalty to himself. He wasn’t quite certain that he could survive it – the moment those two things started to diverge. 

“Not now,” Mu Qingfang agreed. The word eventually sat heavily over all three of them. There was too much at stake right now to bring something up that hadn’t been an issue for some years now. “Well, now that’s all cleared.” He clapped his hands together. “Let’s make certain none of you are in danger of dying, mn?” 

It might have been the worst experience of Liu Qingge’s life, being confined to a room with three other adult men as they were all taught important safety practices on Dual Cultivation. He protested, loudly, that he had already gone through such education before as a disciple. It did not seem to matter.

The doctor was ruthless.

He wanted to die.

After some routine tests (and training that none of them will EVER speak of again), the three of them were released from Qian Cao Peak. As they had left, Shen Qingqiu stopped to whisper with Mu Qingfang. The words that Liu Qingge caught were: sword and Wan Jian. Eying Luo Binghe, he realized that the disciple no longer had a sword. With a strained expression, Shen Qingqiu bid the doctor farewell and the three of them finally left. No one dared give Liu Qingge the indignity of supporting him as he walked, though he half wanted them to.

Loves.

Luo Binghe had said true loves.

His heart spasmed. 

Luo Binghe had also said that Shen Yuan wasn’t the only one who was oblivious.

A squirrely feeling rose in his gut, and Liu Qingge wanted to run. He needed to throw himself into a set of training drills or perhaps incite some of his disciples into attacking him because he needed his head clear. Instead his thoughts bounced around like annoying crickets, repeating images and words.

Dual cultivation.

Loves.

Oblivious.

A silent conversation occurred between master and disciple. It was a soundless back and forth that included a single raised eyebrow and a serious nod. When the three of them took off into the sky, Luo Binghe stood behind Liu Qingge on his sword. He did not fight it.

He agreed with it.

Everything hurt and he did not trust himself to not fall off. Though, had anyone dared say such a thing aloud, he wasn’t sure if he could have bitten back his pride. Their flight was a quiet one. The last time he had flown with Luo Binghe behind him, the brat couldn’t stop poking and prodding him. Today, his hands were solidly on his shoulders. Grounding, polite, and respectful.

Why was Liu Qingge disappointed? 

The three of them made it back to the Bamboo House, but not without gaggle of needy disciples gaping at them as they went by. He was certain by evening, the entirety of Qing Jing Peak would know that their master was back in house along with the resurrected Luo Binghe and himself. 

A little care package sat on the doorstep. Without a word, Luo Binghe picked it up and the three of them made it inside.

The damage that Liu Qingge and Luo Binghe wrought on the place was nearly imperceptible. His eyes darted around, replaying the battle in his mind as he found traces of replaced floorboards and slight scuff marks on the walls. A new table sat in the middle of the room. 

There was a low sigh from Shen Qingqiu and he threw a cutting look towards both of them. “If either of you try that again inside my house, neither of you are allowed in here again. Understood?” 

“This disciple apologizes!” Luo Binghe said, bending into a bow. There was a coy curl to his voice. “Perhaps there is a way he can make it up to you…?”

Shen Qingqiu’s mouth dropped. “Binghe!!” He scorned, face flushing bright red. “I told you that topic is no longer up for discussion!” 

Good fucking luck, Liu Qingge thought. He was silenced by his own flaring abashment. 

“Shizun…” Luo Binghe pleaded.

“Enough.” Shen Qingqiu drew his shoulders back and made the incorrect argument, “I will not have my disciple feel as if he owes me a cure that has no guarantee to work!” 

It was the weakest argument. All Luo Binghe needed was to keep the conversation open, and peel through it in that sneaky, bastardly way of his. 

Except that Shen Qingqiu knew his disciple, so he closed the conversation with a flick of his hand and said, “Come. I need to bathe.” 

Right. Liu Qingge’s mouth dried, and heat pooled in the pit of his stomach. Bathing. He hadn’t allowed himself to think of what that would possibly look like with the three of them unable to part. At the moment, his mind supplied helpful images of him, his shixiong, and Luo Binghe all squished naked in a tub, wet skin sliding against another-

Fuck. 

They were in the bathing chambers too quickly. And far too quickly after that, there was steam rising from warmed water and three painfully awkward men standing around a tub. He stared into the dancing reflection of the water, mouth dry.

Loves.

It reminded him of the time in the succubi cave, with Madam Meiyan. His throat clenched around the rise of discomfort. The woman had suggested that Shen Qingqiu would have two loves. Two. 

Could it be…?

A hand caught his shoulder in a gentle, probing way. He startled from his thoughts and found Shen Qingqiu looking up at him, worry lining his expression. “Qingge?” 

All the breath swept from Liu Qingge’s lungs. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to take Shen Qingqiu into his arms, peel away all of his layers, and reverently guide him into the bath. It was a need so sharp he could not breathe. 

“Is it the curse?” Shen Qingqiu asked, eyes searching his expression. His hand raised to take a strand of Liu Qingge’s hair and push it behind his ear. “We shouldn’t have pushed you out like that, not without-”  

When had…? 

When had Liu Qingge become someone that Shen Qingqiu needed to dote on? 

His heart was a gooey, bleeding mess in his chest. He wanted to peel it from his chest and present it to the man in front of him. You left this here. It belongs to you. 

“Fine,” Liu Qingge managed, interrupting him. His voice tasted like gravel on his tongue. “I’m fine.”

Concern glinted in the dark glimmer of Shen Qingqiu’s eyes. The sharpness of his face was softened by the tenderness that was Shen Yuan underneath it. “I’ll trust Qingge in this matter to let us know if he needs anything.” 

Every damned time he heard that name off those lips he was hit with an insatiable craving to catch the back of Shen Qingqiu’s head and press their lips together. To fight the urge, he blurted something else instead. “Let’s do it.” 

It took a while for him to realize what he said. 

It took even longer for Shen Qingqiu. 

Luo Binghe was the first to flash him a startled glance.

“Excuse me…?” Shen Qingqiu asked, pulling back. The dust of pink on his ears suggested he already understood.

Throat tight, Liu Qingge was embarrassed. The words stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he floundered silently like a buffoon. He knew he needed to finish the statement in order to chip away at Shen Qingqiu’s stubborn denial. His mouth wouldn’t cooperate. He was flustered. 

Both Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe stood, patient and waiting. 

Fuck.

Face growing hot, Liu Qingge shoved some form of words through his teeth. “Cure us. Fix the curse. Let’s do it.” 

Eyes widening, Shen Qingqiu took another step back. He looked betrayed. “Qingge!” 

A soft almost whine of a breath escaped Liu Qingge. His hands curled into tight fists at his sides to stop himself from lunging forward. 

“Not you too!” Shen Qingqiu threw an annoyed glance between the two of them. “Are you two serious? Neither of you owe me anything. Stop this! Now go, go!” He shooed them off. “I am bathing. We are no longer talking about this!” 

Any further attempts to speak were drowned out by Shen Qingqiu’s anger. He was a raving storm and would not be interrupted. In a matter of moments, Liu Qingge found himself standing stiltedly behind a privacy wall with Luo Binghe at his side. Through the thin paper, he watched a flustered silhouette of Shen Qingqiu begin the process of disrobing. 

He felt the weight of his heart between his teeth. 

Beside him, Luo Binghe unceremoniously plopped to the ground.

Liu Qingge was grateful for it and sank down next to him with little grace. Only when his head leaned back and hit the wall, did he realize that Luo Binghe had sat on purpose. For him. Because he knew that Liu Qingge would force himself to keep standing and not give in to the way his muscles ached and trembled. He cracked his eyes open and nodded to the other man.

A small smile pulled at the corner of Luo Binghe’s lips, and he dipped his head respectfully in turn.

Now, all they had to do was wait for their turn to bathe.

It was torture. Every whisper of sliding silk hit him low. A few layers of robes draped over the top of the privacy screen. Liu Qingge considered biting his own fist. 

Luo Binghe shifted back and forth on his seat. In an impressive attempt at appearing nonplussed, he stared down at his fingernails and began to pick imaginary dirt from underneath them. 

His reddened face was the only thing that gave him away. 

Closing his eyes, Liu Qingge folded his body into a meditative pose and began to count his breaths. He did not listen to the soft intake of Shen Qingqiu’s breath as he hit the warm water. Nor did he pay attention to the sounds of water displacing as he sank into the bath. And he absolutely did not hear the light moan that Shen Qingqiu made when he finally settled into the soothing heat.

Nope.

Definitely not. 

“Binghe,” Liu Qingge muttered through his teeth.

“Yes, Liu-shishu?” 

The politeness was an affordable distraction. Liu Qingge could not ignore the way that a wall had sprouted between the two of them ever since their talk in the bathroom – a conversation that kept echoing inside his mind. 

“Explain,” he demanded, quietly. 

There was a long length of almost silence. The only sounds were the torturous noises of bathing. 

When he finally broke and opened his eyes, he saw Luo Binghe staring forlornly at the ground. It was such a heart wrenching picture, the loneliness that hung around him. As soon as he noticed Liu Qingge’s attention, it snapped away in an instant and there was a too-polite smile with no trace of sorrow. “This disciple is confused. Explain what, Liu-shishu?” 

“Liar,” Liu Qingge said, without any venom. He raised an eyebrow. 

“If you two are conspiring,” Shen Qingqiu warned from the bath. 

“We’re not conspiring,” Liu Qingge raised his voice, staring down the man beside him. “Reminding Binghe that he must not decide how others feel for them.” 

The expression on Luo Binghe’s face shattered. Underneath it was something raw – something that came from growing up in a world where love was earned and not given. He blinked at Liu Qingge, a question in his eyes.

Liu Qinge didn’t have an answer. Not now.

His line of thought was completely obliterated when Shen Qingqiu said, “There’s no guarantee that Dual Cultivation is going to fix any of this! I am not going to force either of you to do something you’re not comfortable with! That is that! How many times do I have to say it!?” 

“Not comfortable?” Luo Binghe echoed.

“Yes! First off, Binghe! You’re my disciple! Second, Liu Qingge’s asexual!” 

“A what?” Liu Qingge asked.

On the other side of the privacy screen, Shen Qingqiu sputtered. 

“Yuan,” Liu Qingge snapped before he could continue his tirade, “none of these arguments are about what you want.” 

There was no answer. 

Crossing his arms, Liu Qingge glared. “Stop deciding for us. Decide for yourself.” 

The conversation ebbed away. Sounds of bathing resumed. 

On his left, he had a young man who was refusing to explain what he said in another world. In front of him, beyond a flimsy configuration of wood, was the very man that he’d been in l-

That he’d-

Liu Qingge stared down at his fists.

How could he get frustrated with either of these two when he couldn’t even admit to himself that he-

His face fell into his hands. He didn’t care how he looked, posture withered. All he wanted to do was find something to hit and to have something hit him back so he could stop fucking thinking. 

“…this one knows his shidi and his disciple,” Shen Qingqiu spoke as if each word was fragile. “He knows how much either of you will sacrifice, and he… does not want either of you to force yourself into a position over something as trivial as this one’s health. We must simply wait it out.” 

“Shizun…” Luo Binghe breathed with half a sigh. 

“Alright.” Liu Qingge set his hands on his knees. “Understood. I won’t be sacrificing anything.” 

Luo Binghe gave him half a smile. 

“Qingge,” Shen Qingqiu sputtered. 

“Qingqiu.” Liu Qingge paused, and added, “Yuan. Binghe is an adult. I am an adult. We can make our own decisions. It is not out of guilt.” 

“I can’t fucking believe,” Shen Qingqiu’s mask broke, and he was small and angry and fully Shen Yuan as he ranted under his breath, “the fucking War God of…” He smothered his own quiet rant by slipping underneath the water. After a few seconds, he popped back out, “…with me! What is going on with the plot?! Hello?!” 

Liu Qingge snorted. 

At his side, Luo Binghe wore a fondly humored smile.

Shen Yuan paused, perhaps realizing that the bathing room was not a good place to have a private soliloquy. “I can’t believe this.” 

“Obviously,” Liu Qingge muttered, dryly. 

A hand caught Luo Binghe’s surprised laugh. He turned his face away, attempting to swallow it down. 

“What did you say?!” Shen Yuan sniped. 

Shrugging, he raised his voice and repeated himself. “Obviously.” 

This time, Luo Binghe did not smother his laugh. 

“I liked it better when you two tore apart my house,” Shen Yuan muttered, grumpily. 

Liu Qingge smiled. 

“If Shizun was so impressed by our display, this Binghe is certain Liu-shishu wouldn’t mind showing him another type of tussle…?” Luo Binghe said, coyly. 

Heat rushed through Liu Qingge, and he threw a scathing glance at the younger man. “Sh-Shameless,” he hissed.

“I don’t think the two of you wrestling would be any less destructive to my house,” Shen Yuan said. He slid from the bathtub, the sound of falling water tracing after him. 

Any indignation Liu Qingge felt fled, and he shared an exasperated glance with Luo Binghe. 

How the hell was that man so oblivious?!

Luo Binghe laughed. It was a warm, delightful sound that spilled into the air the way sunshine leaks through clouds on a cold winter’s day. 

A smile sneaked its way onto Liu Qingge’s lips before he even realized it was happening. 

In between shuffling silks, a voice called, “What?”

More laughter spilled into Luo Binghe and he rolled back, delighted. “Nothing, Shizun!”

“It certainly sounds like something!” 

Liu Qingge decided not to answer, and hid a smirk in the shake of his head. 

“Life is so unfair,” Shen Yuan muttered under his breath, petulantly. “Each of you alone is already too OP and now I have to deal with this shit…?” 

It was nice to hear Luo Binghe’s laugh thicken, which was definitely not by any accident on Shen Yuan’s part. The conversation turned to safer topics as everyone else took their turn bathing. 

Not that it stopped the thoughts of Dual Cultivation from hanging over all of their heads.

All three of them had loose and damp hair as they piled into the kitchen. The bath did wonders for Liu Qingge’s aching joints, yet still he could not stop himself from collapsing to the ground. His back fell against the wall and his head rolled back. In a reflection of the first time he sat in this kitchen, Shen Qingqiu sat elegantly beside him. He was too close for propriety standards, but close enough to offer some support. After some quiet deliberation, Liu Qingge took it and leaned lightly against him.

Both of them ignored the blush that flushed both of their cheeks. 

Luo Binghe worked swiftly, first setting up some tea. Once water was heating, he laid out the ingredients gifted to them. Morning light filtered in through the windows, and delicately traced the outline of his formidable silhouette. His hair fell around him in loose curls, barely obscuring the wide set of his shoulders. He tied up the sleeves of his robes, exposing his wrists and strong forearms. His hands gathered all of his loose hair, strong fingers working with the curls to expertly tie it back in a hasty bun. 

Exhaustion tugged at Liu Qingge. It was embarrassing how much of his weight started to slowly shift onto his shixiong. He couldn’t stop himself. He stared at a loose curl that escaped Luo Binghe’s bun. He ached to step over, tuck it away, and kiss the back of his exposed neck.

(What?)

Luo Binghe decided on what he was making. In an instant, he was a flurry of activity. Each motion was swift and practiced. He washed rice. Heated some pans. Chopped vegetables. It was rhythmic, graceful and-

Some time later, Liu Qingge awoke with a start. His head had fallen completely against Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder. His skin prickled with a blush and he pushed himself up, a quiet apology falling from his lips. 

A warm smile filled Shen Qingqiu’s lips, his eyes warm and soft. “Qingge can rest more if he likes, we have some time before tonight’s meeting.” 

Liu Qingge wanted to. Aches and pains made his head heavy and his eyes had a hard time staying open. He fought it. They needed a battle plan. First, they had to figure out what accusations were thrown against the Qing Jing Peak Lord. Then they needed to determine what ones might actually be legitimate, considering that none of them could account for the Original Goods. And somehow, after all of that, they had to ensure that Cang Qiong Sect was willing to back them. That was only the start of it. Then they would need to figure out how to prevent Hua Huan Sect from stealing away Luo Binghe and destroying Shen Qingqiu’s reputation.

It was all a big fucking headache.

He wished he could just punch the Palace Master and be done with it.

“This Binghe suggests we leave any discussion until after our meal,” the disciple said, standing over a pot. His back was turned from them, but he had a smile in his voice. “Rest, Liu-shishu.” 

He wanted to fight it. 

A hand hesitantly drew him down. He fought it weakly, and then gave up. With only a grumble of protest, he slid down with his head pillowed by silk and heat. His fatigue won. 

The next time consciousness drew towards him, he felt fingers gliding through his loose hair. He hadn’t tied it back up after bathing. Right now, with fingers gently tracing over his scalp, he had no regrets in letting his hair dry slowly. 

“Qingge,” a gentle voice murmured above him. “The food is prepared.” 

His eyes cracked open. Haloed by a dark curtain of hair, Shen Qingqiu leaned over him. As soon as he noticed he was awake, his shixiong pulled back as if expecting him to spring up and off the floor. 

A few days ago, Liu Qingge might have. But just last night he hardly slept because Shen Yuan wrapped around him like a desperate snake. They had long since passed any propriety boundaries. That fact did not stop his skin from burning. He was using this man’s thigh as a pillow and everywhere was the scent of him. 

He did not want to move.

“Qingge?” Shen Qingqiu smiled, his eyes crinkling. “Are you not really awake yet?” He held up his free arm to shield the bottom half of his face. 

I am, Liu Qingge thought. He just didn’t want to move. Not once had he ever even allowed himself to hope for something like this, but now that it was happening he didn’t want it to ever end. 

“Does Shishu need to be carried?” a playful voice spoke somewhere above him. 

Liu Qingge glowered. “No.” 

Amusement sprinkled Shen Qingqiu’s eyes. “Does Qingge want to go back to sleep?” 

Yes. He sighed. “No.” 

With the strength of a god, because that’s what it took to encourage himself to get out of Shen Qingqiu’s lap, Liu Qingge sat up. He managed to make it to his feet without any support, and used the wall to steady himself. 

After his extended nap, his body had recovered a bit more from the torture it withstood earlier. Experimentally, he stretched out his arms and rolled his head. He felt more… attached to himself. 

Two pairs of eyes followed each and every single one of his moments. He was used to people watching him – and he had gotten used to ignoring them. These eyes, though, he appreciated. He felt beautiful in a way that he never had before.

Pushing his hair behind his shoulder, he raised a single eyebrow towards both of them. His shixiong dipped his chin, ears pink, while Luo Binghe met that eyebrow with a shameless grin. With a shake of his head, Liu Qingge was the first to walk back out into the main room. The other two followed, Luo Binghe with a large tray of plates and food and Shen Qingqiu speaking softly about something or other. Sometimes the man liked to fill up the quiet with words, not that Liu Qingge ever minded. He loved hearing the way sounds formed on the other man’s tongue. 

The three settled down at the table. Luo Binghe set everything up, and not before long they were eating.

As two pairs of eyes probed Liu Qingge, he found himself only mildly embarrassed. He threw a warning glare to each of them, even if he didn’t really mean it. His skin warmed and he took a bite.

“Another smile,” Shen Qingqiu said, as if the world had set itself right. 

“This one is glad Liu-shishu likes the food.” Real warmth spilled into Luo Binghe’s voice, making it warble slightly with his enthusiasm. 

It was cute. Liu Qingge’s smile grew, and he dipped his head, “Satisfactory,” he said, even if it was beyond that. 

Luo Binghe beamed as if he had been handed a piece of the moon.

Hiding a pleased smile of his own, Shen Qingqiu threw some pieces of food in his mouth. The rest of the meal passed by with amicable conversation. Most of it was fueled by his shixiong and his disciple. Every now and then Liu Qingge offered a grunt or noise for his part. Neither asked for anything more.

It was perhaps one of the easiest meals he has sat through, aside from the ones that he shared with his sister. He had never felt more at peace. 

He had never felt more at home.  

Chapter Text

Considering their situation, it was mildly amusing that when one of them needed to go somewhere, the other two followed like obedient little ducklings. Luo Binghe stood by the wash basin, with Liu Qingge at his side. Both of them worked on cleaning up after their meal while Shen Qingqiu rested against the counter. He filled the room with his voice, pondering aloud. His head sat in his hands, and his posture was abhorrent, but he was still peerless in grace and beauty. 

Seeing this part of his shizun was a gift. It was maybe one of the best ways that Shen Qingqiu told someone that he cared for them – by allowing his mask to slip. Right now he nearly had it off completely. 

Shen Yuan plucked at a lock of hair and examined the ends with a scrutinizing eye. “We need more information. The Peak Lord Meeting is going to be awful.” He sighed, eyebrows pressing together as his eyes fluttered shut. “They’re going to ask about the accusations, which I don’t really know what they are, and somehow I am going to have to bull…” His eyes fluttered open and he looked between the two of them, and quietly corrected himself, “I am going to have to fabricate something then and there.” He sighed, pressing both of his palms into the counter as he leaned back to roll his eyes. “Ugh…” His collapsed back down against the counter, muttering what seemed like nonsense under his breath. 

Now that Luo Binghe understood slightly more about his shizun, some of it made a little sense.

“First… the sowers, which did not happen…!” Shen Yuan rubbed his temples with a deep frown. “...they said I conspired with them? On what grounds? Maybe… Binghe…?” His voice trailed away and died with whatever question he was going to form.

Luo Binghe considered the tangent. It was possible that because of his connection to the demon realm, his shizun thought he had something to do with that. The thought made his heart sink. “Shizun,” he said, turning to him. His eyes prickled. “This disciple would never.”

There was a flicker in his shizun’s expression, and the mask was back. He was Shen Qingqiu. It felt like rejection.

Before Luo Binghe could spiral, beside him, Liu Qingge asked, “What happened in the book?”

Ah. That annoying book. It seemed to be both a blessing and curse — it gave his shizun advantageous knowledge… and a lot of false preconceptions. Luo Binghe turned back to the dishes, trying not to let his mood sour. 

Liu Qingge shifted closer and bumped his shoulder. 

The physical contact grounded him. 

“…well,” Shen Qingqiu started. He shifted uncomfortably behind them, letting the break in conversation stretch.

It was a long enough silence that both Luo Binghe and his shishu stopped and turned to him. His shizun stared slightly to the left, as he did when he was looking at the System. That faraway expression Luo Binghe had seen on him several times before. It angered him that this entire time that expression was his shizun communicating with the invasive entity and not just a little quirk. 

“Well?” Liu Qingge prompted. 

“Shizun doesn’t know if speaking here will anger the System,” Luo Binghe said with a sigh. 

“...about that.” Shen Qingqiu sighed, his shoulders falling. “Are the two of you done?” 

Exchanging a look with his shishu, Luo Binghe turned back to the dishes and resolved to finish. He figured either way it would allow Shizun to piece together what he didn’t want to say, and maybe break a little more through that thin face of his. It was hard not being frustrated.

At least it was easier without Xin Mo. The sword’s influence on him was a distant buzz. He knew if he wanted, he could demand the return of his sword. At the moment, he did not see the point of that. He did not need it. 

(There was a quiet childish fear that nestled next to his heart – that he was vulnerable and trapped without it. He ignored that, for now.)

With the last dish dry and put away, Luo Binghe turned to his shizun and tried to stand with polite patience. Sometimes he really wanted to grab Shen Qingqiu by the shoulders and shake him until explanations fell out. He wondered if Liu Qingge shared that sentiment.

By the crunched expression on the war god’s face, it seemed likely. 

“The System… doesn’t seem to care, if it’s you two,” Shen Qingqiu said, slowly. His eyes slid to that space as if waiting. If Luo Binghe focused, he could sense the threads of the other entity. His eyes narrowed. All at once, Shen Qingqiu slammed a fist into an open palm, “I got it!” He turned an excited glance towards the two of them. “Shang Qinghua.” 

“Shang Qinghua,” Liu Qingge echoed, dryly. 

“Yes.” A self-satisfied smile spilled across Shizun’s lips. “We need to figure out what the original goods did before we can begin to build up suitable arguments!” 

“Yuan,” Liu Qingge sighed. “What?”

“Come on. It’ll be faster to explain once we’re there.” Shen Qingqiu turned and rushed from the room, energy swarming around him. Now that he had a clear goal, it would be difficult to dissuade him. 

With matching sighs, both Luo Binghe and the war god followed him out of the kitchen. Luo Binghe didn’t even attempt to hide his souring mood or irritation. He pouted. Seeing that rat did not sound like it would be any more productive than the three of them sharing a nice quiet day to themselves until the meeting.

Shen Qingqiu led them back into his bedroom. He snatched a fan and bustled past them. Under his breath, he murmured, “...hack author…” and a few choice other words that even Luo Binghe’s demonic hearing had a hard time picking up.

“Shizun?” Luo Binghe called, delicately. He watched his shizun head straight towards the front door.

With a bemused smile, Liu Qingge caught his shixiong by the arm. “Yuan.” 

Startled, Shen Qingqiu looked at him, and then turned a curious glance towards Luo Binghe. “Yes?” 

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe laughed. “Shouldn’t we… get dressed first?” 

Shen Qingqiu glanced down at the simple robes he wore after his bath. And then studied the other two. His fan flicked open, concealing his expression. He cleared his throat and said, “Ah. Yes.” When he caught both Luo Binghe and his shidi sharing a look, he snapped his fan shut and whacked Luo Binghe’s shoulder.

Swallowing a laugh, he followed after his shizun. 

All too quickly, the three of them were presentable, outside, and preparing to take off to An Ding Peak. Luo Binghe had worn a wet pout the entire time, hoping to inspire his shizun to change his mind. He even stood so that the sunlight would catch the pathetic glint in his eye.

Unfortunately, his shizun knew him too well and didn’t look over at him.

“Let’s go,” Shen Qingqiu said, preparing to draw his sword.

“Wait,” Liu Qingge said. He eyed Xiu Ya and turned that eye towards Luo Binghe. “Come.” He turned and started down a path around the Bamboo House. 

Startled, Luo Binghe rushed after him. 

“Qingge?” Shen Qingqiu asked, taking up the end of their little line. 

Again, there was no explanation as the war god led them down a path. Luo Binghe wondered if he was quietly exacting revenge against Shen Qingqiu’s own lack of explanations. Then he decided that was too petty for his shishu. 

There were a few gardens that surrounded the Bamboo House. He had many memories built in these gardens. The echoes of warm days accented with gentle breezes played in the back of his mind. They passed by one small garden with a wooden bench, and he saw a ghost of his shizun elegantly lazing about with a book in hand while Luo Binghe practiced sword forms. His heart clenched with a strange sense of homesickness. He knew that they would never go back to those days. Bitterness sank his heart like a heavy stone.

They came to break in the bamboo trees. It was well-manicured, with only a few stray leaves littering the ground. Someone had taken great care of this area. Stones were placed meticulously, enhancing the natural beauty of the landscape. The pathway was artistically drawn out to the center. Luo Binghe’s breath disappeared from his lungs. His hands went numb. When he was a disciple, he used this space to practice. He recalled more than a few lessons by shizun’s guiding hand. The gentle warmth of his encouragement as he corrected his form or helped guide him through qi exercises. It no longer was that empty space from his memories.

It was a memorial.

In the middle of the clearing, on a little mound, Zheng Yang pierced the ground.

“He mourned,” Liu Qingge said, quiet and insistent. 

A strangled sound of embarrassment left Shen Qingqiu. He flustered. “Qingge!” He smacked his arm with his fan. “If I wanted to, I would have-” 

There was a look of heat in Liu Qingge’s eyes, which Shizun misunderstood and took a half step back, paling. In an instant, the fan snapped open and covered the bottom half of his face. 

Luo Binghe turned away from both of them and took a few halting steps before he collapsed down to his knees before the mound. His throat clenched and ached. His vision melted away into tears. His head bowed. 

A hand settled onto his shoulder and squeezed. 

You’re wanted, Liu Qingge seemed to say without a single word. A stalwart reminder. Something that Luo Binghe should not forget. 

Reaching up, Luo Binghe clutched onto that hand. It was a lifeline. Time and time again he had convinced himself that he was a beast that was undeserving of something as simple as love. There was a point when he wondered if he was capable of it at all. He had thought he only ever tricked people into tolerating him. 

But…

He mourned.

“I suppose Binghe should have his sword back,” Shen Qingqiu said stiffly behind them. “That is… if he wants it.”

If Luo Binghe was trying not to choke on a mouthful of tears, he might have laughed. His shizun spoke as if this entire endeavor was about the sword. And even then, he spoke as if Luo Binghe would ever dare reject it. “Sh-Shizun…”

It wasn’t about the sword. His shizun never said how he felt. He might complain and grumble, but someone had to look at his actions and behavior to get any clue on any other emotion. And even then, any guesses were dubious at best.

But this?

You matter to me, the memorial said. I missed you. 

It said, I love you.

“Come on.” Shen Qingqiu hit his fan into the palm of his hand and turned on his heel. He started back down the path. “We don’t have too much time before the meeting, and this master would prefer to be prepared-” 

Luo Binghe stared at him over his shoulder, a mess of emotions.

The corner of Liu Qingge’s mouth quirked up. He met Luo Binghe’s eyes and gave a subtle nod towards Shen Qingqiu.

It was all Luo Binghe needed. He tore from the ground and in two steps he captured his shizun in his arms, folding him into his chest. His face pressed between his shizun’s shoulder blades. Tears spilled and stained silk. He did not care. “Shizun,” he choked, pathetically. 

All it took was that single word for Shen Qingqiu to melt. There was a smile in his voice as he tutted and patted the arms that captured him. “Binghe,” he scorned lightly. “What is this? Stop crying.” 

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe repeated, and he wanted Shen Qingqiu to know what that word meant to him after all these years: I love you. 

“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu murmured. He twisted just enough to wrap a single arm around Luo Binghe, and to use the other to consolingly pat his head. “What are these tears?” He cleaned his face with a gentle hand, even as more tears spilled to take the place of the old ones. “You’re a man now, aren’t you?” 

“This disciple…” Luo Binghe tried to figure out the words to say thank you without completely obliterating his shizun’s thin face. He settled with closing his eyes and resting their foreheads together.

Shen Qingqiu stiffened, surprised at the intimate gesture. 

“This disciple missed his master dearly,” Luo Binghe said. His voice was shredded by his own emotions. “He is very happy to know he was missed, as well.” 

“Very missed,” Liu Qingge corrected.

“Q-Qingge,” Shen Qingqiu hissed. He cleared his throat. “Ah. Well. Good.” He patted Luo Binghe’s shoulder, and started to try and extract himself from the tight hold. 

If Luo Binghe had a choice, he would never let him go. The darkest parts of his heart wanted to lock both his shizun and shishu away and keep them to himself. He knew better. Instead of giving in, he soaked up some more warmth before he reluctantly let his arms drop.

Hiding behind his fan, Shen Qingqiu said, “Grab your sword, Binghe. Let’s go.” He shot his shidi a warning glare, as if to say, Try something like that again without my permission, and we’ll see where that gets you.

In response, Liu Qingge raised an eyebrow. Like what? Another smack from your fan? 

Shen Qingqiu huffed, turning away. It did nothing to hide the reddening of his ears.

A smile spilled over Liu Qingge’s lips. As he passed by his shixiong, he narrowed his eyes at him and dared, “Try me.” 

“Qingge!” With a squawk of indignation, Shen Qingqiu whipped around the fan for another smack.

Eyes dark and smoldering, Liu Qingge caught the hand holding the fan and yanked it towards him. He pressed a slow, possessive kiss on the inside of Shen Qingqiu’s wrist. 

The fan slid from Shen Qingqiu’s fingers and clattered to the ground. 

Both stared at the other, dumbfounded. Neither seemed to be able to believe what Liu Qingge had just done. 

Then Shen Qingqiu began to sputter. There was a mess of words that came from his mouth, sentences without any real structure. 

In no better state, Liu Qingge snatched back his hand as if he touched a stranger’s hair. His face turned a brilliant crimson, and his mouth tightened into a thin line. In the whites of his eyes, there was a quiet panic. 

Before either of them could spiral any further, Luo Binghe stepped in with a grin and said, “Liu-shishu warned Shizun!” He stepped between the two, acting as a safe wall for them both as they composed themselves, and reached down to pluck the fan from the ground. His gut was a twisting mess of want and need, and more than anything he really did not want to go to An Ding Peak.

He wanted to go back into his shizun’s bedroom and see all the other different ways his shishu could make him unravel. 

Shen Qingqiu tried a response, and it turned into an adorable mess of sounds that definitely did not make any real words.

Instead of pointing this out, Luo Binghe nodded and said, “Shizun is right. We should get going.” 

Behind him, Liu Qingge looked seconds away from taking off. His hands clenched and unclenched from tight fists.

To give him something to do, Luo Binghe placed the fan in his hand and said, “I’ll get my sword, if Liu-shishu could give this back to Shizun…?” 

Liu Qingge stared down at the fan as if it were a snake about to strike him. 

The time it took for Luo Binghe to grab Zheng Yang, neither of the other two moved. Shen Qingqiu stared off into the distance as if the very world had shattered underneath him and he was trying to make sense of it. Meanwhile, the war god was caught in paralysis and facing what he had just done. 

Luo Binghe couldn’t help the frustrated warmth that sank through him. He adored both of them. And he wanted to shake both of them. How did neither of them see the way they looked at another? 

With a roll of his eyes, he shoved his shishu into motion. 

Grunting, Liu Qingge stumbled to his shixiong. The two stared at another, surprised. Then the war god remembered he had the fan, and he held it out as an offering. 

Clearing his throat, Shen Qingqiu took the fan. He immediately opened it and hid behind it. “Thanking Qingge.” 

The war god relaxed, hearing his name. He nodded once, awkwardly, and turned. Without another word, he stormed back down the path and left them to chase after him. 

By the time the three of them took to their swords, it appeared that Shen Qingqiu had reached a level of (mis)understanding, and said, “This entire time…” He shook his head, as if betrayed. “To think my shidi was hiding the fact he was an utter menace.”

“Only to those I care about,” Liu Qingge responded, dryly.

Both of them froze.

Luo Binghe could not stop himself from rolling his eyes.

The three of them had a long way to go, and it was going to be an arduous journey to get there. 

An Ding Peak was in its usual uproar. They went straight to the peak lord’s personal home without so much as a blink from Shen Qingqiu. He knew the path well. Despite the slight reassurance from recovering Zheng Yang, Luo Binghe found his mood souring again. He did not like that his shizun had frequented this man’s house enough to not even question whether or not he was allowed. 

None of the disciples seemed to question his presence either, and only did double-takes for the war god and Luo Binghe. He tried not to be jealous. 

He was unsuccessful. 

When they reached the door to the man’s home, Shen Qingqiu knocked impertinently. His eyes narrowed. “Shang-shidi. Open the door.” 

There was scrambling on the other side of the door, and a frantic yelp. Luo Binghe cocked his head to the side and held up a hand, expanding his awareness. There was an array that wrapped around the building. The purpose itself was hard to discern, but by the fact that Luo Binghe did not sense anything inside the building seemed to be an answer in itself. Curious. His eyes narrowed. It took a bit before the door plucked open. 

On the other side, Shang Qinghua was a bit of a mess. Pieces of hair slid free from its usual style, and it looked as if he had just thrown on his over robe. Bruises splattered his pale skin, and one of his arms rested in a sling. There were minor cuts on his face as well. His eyes slid between all three of them, and he blanched when caught sight of Luo Binghe. 

“Thanking Shang-shidi for his hospitality,” Shen Qingqiu said, and pushed his way into the house.

“B-Bro!” Shang Qinghua hissed under his breath. He balked and scrambled backwards as both Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge followed after him. Clearing his throat, Shang Qinghua slipped past them and rushed into his receiving room. “Shen-shixiong, is now really that great of a time? Maybe… in like a week? Or two? Or five?” 

“This master thinks that now iis the perfect time,” Shen Qingqiu said. He sat down at a table, prim and proper with his fan hiding his expression. “Will Shang-shidi make us some tea?” 

A soft whine escaped Shang Qinghua. He dragged his feet away from the three of them and began the process of putting together tea. 

Luo Binghe turned a scrutinized eye around the place. There was that slight displacement of energy. As soon as they had stepped in, he stopped being able to sense both his shizun and his shishu. The rat was absolutely hiding someone. He wondered where he would be. 

The corner of his lip quirked, amused at the idea of a certain someone forced to hide in a cramped wardrobe. He glanced over at his shizun and asked, “Why Shang Qinghua?” 

“Manners,” Liu Qingge murmured. 

Luo Binghe pouted. 

His shishu rolled his eyes and shook his head, fighting back a smile. 

Surprisingly enough, Shen Qingqiu didn’t have a comment and instead said, “We’ll get some answers as soon as Shang-shidi returns.” 

A sigh left Liu Qingge. He crossed his arms and frowned at the table. 

“Does Liu-shishu want to spar later?” Luo Binghe asked. 

“Yes,” Liu Qingge answered immediately. His eyes lit up at the possibility, his back straightening. 

“Not in my house,” Shen Qingqiu muttered. “Is Qingge recovered?” 

“Yes!” Liu Qingge said, eyes narrowed in offense. 

At that moment, Shang Qinghua came back to the table with tea. Despite him only having one available arm, no one raised to help him. Once everyone had a warm cup sitting in front of them, the little rat of a man sat practically vibrating with nervous energy. He kept not looking at Luo Binghe, and trying to throw not-so-subtle glances towards Shen Qingqiu. 

“Well?” Liu Qingge asked. 

“Qinghua,” Shen Qingqiu nodded to him. “We need to know more about Shen Qingqiu.” 

Shang Qinghua’s eyes widened. “Bro?” 

“They know,” Shen Qingqiu said with a nod, sweeping his fan towards them. “Everything.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Shang Qinghua exploded into motion, hand slamming down onto the table. “Bro?! Bro?! What the fuck?! What the actual fuck!!” He reached over and grabbed onto the front of Shen Qingqiu’s robes, shaking him. “Is your System fucked? Mine is fucked! What is going on?!” 

Disdain twisted Shen Qingqiu — no, Shen Yuan’s — features and he whipped at his fan and smacked the grabby hand. “Let go of me.”

“Bro?!!” Shang Qinghua cried. “Are you kidding me?! I thought I was fucking done for!! I keep going back. I keep going back! Do you know who showed up in the middle of my shitty fucking apartment? Do you know who?! Thank god it wasn’t the first time I woke up! I was covered in my own piss because I should have fucking died, but no! Just laying in the middle of my own apartment for fucking weeks!” 

“Weeks?” Shen Yuan echoed, aghast. 

“Yes, bro! Yes!! How long do you think I’ve been here?! I grew up here! It’s been years!” Shang Qinghua’s voice had risen and he was shouting now. “What the fuck is going on?!”

“Didn’t anyone find you?!” Shen Yuan gaped. 

“No.” Shang Qinghua looked at him as if he were stupid. “Who was going to look for me, bro? All my bills were just taken out of my accounts, which, I am in the fucking red for by the way.” 

“Unhand Shizun,” Luo Binghe interrupted, cold and low. 

Immediately, Shang Qinghua dropped him and sprung back like he held hot coals. “Holy shit.” 

“Black lotus,” Shen Yuan mouthed, startled. 

Liu Qingge looked quite pleased with Luo Binghe’s interruption and he nodded subtly to him. 

“Cucumber-bro,” Shang Qinghua groaned. He flopped dramatically on the ground and covered his face with his hand. “What the fuck is happening with the System?!”

Ears reddening, Shen Yuan kicked the soggy rat of a man. “Don’t call me that!” He hissed. 

“Bro, watch out! You think this sling is just an accessory!?” Shang Qinghua yelped. “You said they know everything!”

“Why the hell would I tell them that?!” Shen Yuan snapped. 

“Bro, I don’t know, I’m a fucking mess. I just came back today for some reason,” Shang Qinghua whined, pathetically. 

“Sit up,” Shen Yuan ordered, and he kicked him again. “So you’ve been sent back too? With… him?”

“Yes! Cucumber-bro, come on!” Shang Qinghua whined. He pulled himself up into a sitting position and held his head in his hand. 

“When did it first happen?” Shen Yuan asked. 

“I don’t know what day it is!” Shang Qinghua threw his hand in the air. “I don’t fucking know!” 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Shen Yuan sighed. 

“Qingqiu,” Liu Qingge said, “this explains nothing.” 

“He wrote PIDW,” Shen Yuan said, throwing a hand out to the weasel of a man on the other side of the table. 

“What.” Liu Qingge’s expression shuddered as if he had taken a bite of something rotten. 

If Luo Binghe wasn’t so aghast himself, he would have laughed. Wait. He was laughing. It tumbled out of him, choked full of disbelief. He was glad he set the tea cup down. If he hadn’t, he might have pieces of ceramic in his hands.

Shang Qinghua paled by several shades and he scuttled back, staring at him in terror. “Cucumber-bro.”

“Airplane,” Shen Yuan hissed. “Do not call me that!” 

“Yuan.” Liu Qingge almost sounded as if he was begging. 

Too bad it was in this context. 

“What?” Shen Yuan glanced at him, clearly confused as to what else needed to be explained. 

“He gets ‘Yuan’ and I am stuck with Peerless Cucumber?!” Shang Qinghua squawked. 

Shen Yuan’s face blanked out with rage. It was…incredibly hot. He turned to Shang Qinghua. 

“Bro.” Shang Qinghua held up his hand. “Cucumber-bro, hold on-“

The peak lord’s yelps and begging was only mildly satisfying. 

Unfortunately, Shen Yuan broke his fan. 

Luo Binghe had taken over the rat’s kitchen to prepare what he could for snacks and tea. He needed to do something with his hands, and that meant both his shizun and shishu had flooded in after him. At the moment, Liu Qingge paced like a caged beast and his shizun rubbed his hands over his face, very clearly regretting this entire trip.

 It made sense, of course, that if there was a book there was a writer. But the fact that they met the writer made it all real. And the fact that it was that man made it all worse. 

A hand pressed against his shoulder blades, grounding him and startling him all at once. He looked over his shoulder and saw Liu Qingge standing there, watching him with sharp eyes. He cocked his head in question. 

“This one is fine,” Luo Binghe assured. 

Liu Qingge grunted and left him to pace the kitchen again. 

Warmth settled over him like thin webbing. He stared down at the boiling water, throat tight. At some point he became someone that Liu Qingge would wordlessly check in on and offer comfort. He had become someone to the war god. The tangles of his mind eased ever so slightly and he found himself smiling as he finished preparing their snack. 

“I thought this would be easier,” Shen Yuan sighed. He hadn’t pulled back on his Immortal Master mask, which Luo Binghe both adored and disliked. On one hand, he felt privileged to see his shizun this way. On the other, he hated a certain rat of a man also got to see it. With another sigh, Shizun added, “Sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing,” Liu Qingge grumbled. 

At the very least, after the beating they had gotten some explanation. The two had run into each other a few years ago, both realizing that they “transmigrated” into this world. Since then the two had developed some sort of… kinship. To say it was friendship would be a step too far – at least, according to Shen Yuan.

Though seeing the way the two harped on another, to call it anything else seemed more like a lie.

Which was… unfortunate. 

Luo Binghe found his mood souring again. At the edges of his demonic hearing, he heard a soft yelp and shushing (both by the same person). He focused in on the quiet sounds, and heard a, “My king!” which only confirmed his suspicions. Part of him wondered if Mobei Jun would make himself known, and that part itched for a bloody fight. He wondered if Liu Qingge would join him, or just admire the fight for what it was. 

Then he realized that if Mobei Jun showed himself, more than likely Luo Binghe would have to confess to being a demon. His heart froze. 

The War God of Bai Zhan hated demons. Would that mean he would hate Luo Binghe? As Shizun once had, casting him into the-

A hand draped over his. Luo Binghe stirred from his thoughts, and turned to see his shizun reaching across the counter. He stared up into his eyes, worry creasing his eyebrows together. “Binghe?”

“It’s a lot,” he murmured, hoping that his shizun’s unmatched ability to misinterpret everything would lead him in a direction that favored him. For once. 

Shen Yuan’s expression softened. “I know. I’m sorry, Binghe.” 

There was a noise on the other side of the kitchen. Stop apologizing. 

With an exasperated smile, Shen Yuan raised an eyebrow at the war god. He shook his head and squeezed Luo Binghe’s hand. Then he withdrew and turned his attention towards the main room. He seemed caught on a thought.

“Peerless Cucumber?” Luo Binghe asked.

In moments, Shen Yuan’s ears turned bright with color. He shot him a warning look. “No.” Goosebumps ran up Luo Binghe’s spine and he fought the urge to smirk with delight. His shizun narrowed his eyes. “Are you done?” 

“Yes,” Luo Binghe said with a grin. Lifting his voice slightly he added, “Shall we?” 

The three of them made their way back into the sitting room. It was not lost on him how Shen Yuan raised his voice, so anyone else might be aware of them approaching, and talked about something called “usernames” and the creation of something called the internet. They settled down around the table. 

Shang Qinghua popped back out of a room. His hair was in order and his robes a bit more in place as he sat back down. He made a point of nursing his arm that was in the sling, sending a pout Shen Yuan’s way. It did not garner him any sympathy.

“Well,” Shen Yuan said with a deep breath. He sat, posture pristine, and narrowed his eyes at the squirrely man. “Shen Qingqiu.” 

“Shen Qingqiu,” Shang Qinghua echoed. He tapped his fingers on the table top. “I’m going to be honest, bro. You probably remember him better than I do.” 

“What happened in the book?” Luo Binghe asked. 

“Scum villain got his limbs ripped off,” Shang Qinghua said, with a visceral ripping sound. “Pretty deserved, if you ask me, after what he did to you-“

“Shang Qinghua!” Shen Yuan snapped. 

“What?!” Shang Qinghua threw his hand into the air. “You didn’t tell them that either?! Bro. So when you said they know everything, you meant that they know nothing.” 

It was hard to follow what dissolved after that. Shen Yuan did not have a fan, but he still seemed capable of using his hands and feet. Luo Binghe stared down at the table, as things pieced together bit by bit. 

“I did it?” Luo Binghe asked, because he had to. His stomach was sinking. 

Shen Yuan froze. 

Jaw tightening, Luo Binghe threw a glare at Shang Qinghua. “It was me?” 

“Uh,” Shang Qinghua swallowed. He paled and threw a wide-eyed glance between all three of them, trying to decide who was the most dangerous to him. His eyes settled on Luo Binghe and he answered, “Y-Yeah.” 

Eyes falling shut, Luo Binghe dropped his chin to his chest. His hands squeezed into tight fists. This entire time, his shizun thought-

Got his limbs ripped off. 

A hand settled on the back of his neck and squeezed. It was his shishu. The heat of his palm helped to fight back some of the worst emotions. Luo Binghe took deep breaths, the tip of his nose prickling with the onslaught of his frustration and tears. “That’s why Shizun ran,” he said, voice breaking. He opened his eyes, staring up at the man who he loved across the table. “Shizun.” That man blurred behind tears. “Shizun, this disciple wouldn’t-“ 

“Oh, Binghe…” 

“Shizun, please,” Luo Binghe choked out. “Yuan-gege. Please. You know this lowly one wouldn’t do that, right? I-I-“ 

There was a shuffle of silk, and then arms wrapped around him. “Binghe…” Shen Yuan murmured, pulling his head into his chest. He ran a soothing hand over his hair. 

“This beast wouldn’t hurt Shizun,” Luo Binghe clutched onto him. “This beast wouldn’t!” 

But he already had.

His parasites flooded Shen Yuan’s body. 

He had caused this entire situation-

“Binghe wouldn’t hurt Shen Yuan,” Liu Qingge affirmed. He rested a hand on Luo Binghe’s back and rubbed circles between his shoulder blades. His words were spoken with certainty that left no room for argument. 

“This master knows now, Binghe,” Shen Yuan murmured, his voice dangerously close to sounding wet. “He knows.” He wrapped his arms tight around him and held him close. 

Shen Yuan had stepped into the role of Shen Qingqiu, thinking that his end game was Luo Binghe tearing off his limbs. And still he showed kindness and care. This entire time he expected Luo Binghe to come back and torture him, and still he held him. Patted his head. Assured him. Took care of him. 

It took time for Luo Binghe to calm down again. He soaked up comfort offered to him on two sides, one in the arms of his shizun and the other given by steady touches on his back and soft murmured assurances. Only after he calmed did the conversation resume. 

He didn’t move. 

Neither did either of the two on each side of him.

Shang Qinghua covered what happened in his book, and then both he and Shen Yuan went over the mysterious past that made up the original Shen Qingqiu. 

It was shocking to hear. 

Slave made Immortal Master. There were some details that Shang Qinghua was fuzzy on. He did not have the details on what occurred in the Qiu Household, nor did he even really understand who that woman was who said she knew Shen Qingqiu. It left them with more unknowns and not that much to work with. 

At some point, Shen Yuan sighed and pressed his fingers against his temple as if he nursed a headache. With his other hand, he ran his fingers through Luo Binghe’s hair. “I can’t believe you threw away all of that for a flat dimensional scum villain.”

“What?” Shang Qinghua threw his hand in the air. “The people didn’t want dimension, Cucumber-bro! They wanted sex!” 

Shen Yuan’s hand jerked to a stop. 

“Oh, come on! Don’t give me that look!” Shang Qinghua threw up his arm up to shield his face. “I would have loved to develop more of his character, but I was dependent on the readers! And the readers wanted a punching bag, and then some lovely maiden for Bingge to,” he made an obscene sound, “Papapa!” 

“Please shut up,” Shen Yuan said. “Right now.”

“Sex pays the bills!” Shang Qinghua cried, attempting to dig himself out of this hole. He only dug himself deeper. “You paid for it!” 

“Airplane,” Shen Yuan said through his teeth.

Luo Binghe choked on a disbelieving laugh. What?!

“What.” Liu Qingge echoed his thoughts. 

Mouth dropping open, Shen Yuan attempted to make some sort of argument for himself. All that came out was a jumbled string of words.

“Oh, sure. You read it for the ‘plot’,” Shang Qinghua said with quotations

That did it. Shen Yuan slammed a fist onto the table, making everything shake. “Fuck you! I did not slog through millions of poorly written sex scenes for this!” He shouted, voice raising. “Airplane, your sex scenes are subpar at best, I don’t think you know how anatomy works-” 

Shang Qinghua let out a squawk of protest.

“Read the first one and you got it all. But your world building, and the creatures,” Shen Yuan grasped the air, as if wanting for something, “that can be brilliant. Sometimes.” He threw a pointed finger at Shang Qinghua. “Only sometimes. That is what I read your shitty stupid novel for. It had the potential of something really fucking good and you wasted it.” 

Silenced, Shang Qinghua took in a shuddering breath. He stared at him, eyes watering. 

Shen Yuan deflated only slightly. His hand nervously snapped to Luo Binghe’s hair and his fingers tangled into it. His jaw moved as he caught Liu Qingge watching him out of the corner of his eye, as if he were swallowing an apology.

“Aw, bro,” Shang Qinghua said, hand pressed to his chest. “You think I’m brilliant.” 

“I hate you,” Shen Yuan hissed through his teeth. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and then he collapsed against the table with his head in his hands. “Ugh.” 

Luo Binghe realized something about himself. He really liked it when Shen Yuan yelled. His eyes drifted away from his shizun, and he gave his shishu a curious glance. 

Their eyes met. A blush rose on Liu Qingge’s cheeks and he gave a quiet humph and turned his head. 

Ah, so he wasn’t the only one. Luo Binghe extracted himself from the comfort of his shizun’s lap and sat up. He wanted to place a hand on his shizun’s back and give him some sort of reassurance – that it was okay for him to be that way around him. Though he wouldn’t dare. After an inward struggle, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, with his head in his hands. He smiled and waited for his shizun to be brave enough to peek out from underneath his hands. 

Sensing eyes on him, Shen Yuan peeked. His neck flushed. 

“Shizun is amazing,” Luo Binghe said, allowing his adoration to flood into each syllable. “Qingge likes it too.” 

“Qingge…?” Shang Qinghua choked quietly to himself. 

“Mn,” the war god affirmed. 

If they spent any more time on this, his shizun would lose too much face. Luo Binghe straightened and turned to address only Liu Qingge and his shizun. “This Binghe has a few ideas on what we need to do next.” 

Liu Qingge watched him, and nodded for him to continue. 

With a conspiring smile, Luo Binghe told them his plans.

Chapter Text

The only time Shen Qingqiu had ever felt this nervous for a peak lord meeting was when he first transmigrated. He remembered his first time ascending the intimidating steps of Qiong Ding Peak and the terror that echoed with every thundering heartbeat. That day he had hid mostly behind his fan and had tried to pretend cool disinterest. Too bad he wouldn’t be able to do the same today. With a straight back, he walked towards the large ornate doors that lead into the meeting hall. In preparation for the meeting, disciples and servants ran in and out. They had to artfully navigate around the few peak lords who dragged their feet up the long steps in hopes of catching sight of Shen Qingqiu. Many eyes bore into him and the two shadows that trailed off to his left and right. Those shadows were the only thing stopping him from turning tail and running. A new fan creaked in his hand. He forced his expression to stay cool and neutral, as if he were not about to step into a hearing and face some of the most powerful individuals in one of the most powerful sects of this world. 

Nothing could go wrong, certainly.

Earlier, Shang Qinghua had abandoned him. At the door to his leisure house, he excused himself from the meeting with a wave of his hand and a nervous laugh. “Sorry, bro! As much as I would love to watch you be eviscerated by our sect siblings-”

“They will not,” Liu Qingge interrupted, darkly.

“Ah, ha… yeah. Figure of speech, Liu-shidi! Anyways. I, uh, have my own problems to deal with.” Under his breath he had added, “Not that you’re planning to help…” 

Shen Qingqiu almost felt bad. As much as he raved about what Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky getting his just desserts, it was somewhat unsettling to see him so haggard. The two of them hadn’t even discussed what was going on with the System. There was no question Airplane was also being forced back to the other world. 

There were multiple unknowns. Was Shang Qinghua’s System not tied to Luo Binghe? Was it tied to someone else?

He resolved to track down his fellow transmigrator after all this mess and sit down with him so that they could compare notes and maybe finally figure out a real solution to all of this. If that somehow failed and he couldn’t help Airplane-bro here, he at least still had the internet and money to spare in the other realm!

With only a slight pink hue to his skin, Liu Qingge said, “Dual cultivation.”

Silence. 

Shang Qinghua’s eyes widened. “Ah, ha… what?” 

More silence.

Liu Qingge scowled deeply, struggling to explain more as his blush deepened. 

Sorry, Shidi! You did this to yourself! You decided it was a great idea to bring up that solution. Shixiong is noping the fuck out of this one. Bye!

“Mu-shishu examined all three of us and suggested dual cultivation would help with repairing the System,” Luo Binghe said, dryly.

Ah! What’s this? Helping out your shishu?! Since when, Binghe?!! 

“...Dual cultivation with… all those affected?” Shang Qinghua cringed, his eyes flicking up to his fellow transmigrator.

Shen Qingqiu’s eyes widened. He wished he had a fan to cover the utter disgust on his face. 

Nope! Sorry not sorry! Absolutely not!

Eyes darkening dangerously, Luo Bingghe added, “Since your System appears to act autonomously to Shizun’s then it is more likely that you would need to dual cultivate with only those affected by your System.” There was a warning note to his disciple’s voice.

“Ah…” Shang Qinghua’s shoulders dropped. The revelation of a potential cure did not seem to bring him any hope. “Thanking Liu-shidi and… Luo-shizhi for advice.” He stared down at his feet. “If… you come across anything else, ah ha, let this master know…?”

“Who is cursed to Shang Qinghua?” Liu Qingge asked, confusion bending his eyebrow.

Abort! Abort!!

Shang Qinghua paled considerably, mouth flapping uselessly.

Someone vaguely responded, probably. There were hasty goodbyes, the door was shut, and both Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu discussed their next steps before the meeting. Nothing to see here, Liu Qingge!

The War God of Bai Zhan was not amused. Though he did not ask again. He wore a dry expression and followed them in silence instead.

And… now they were here with far too many eyes dissecting them. Not that Shang Qinghua would have been any help in this situation. Maybe it would have been a nice distraction, his shidi showing up to a peak lord meeting with a demon king at his side. 

On habit, Shen Qingqiu reached out to the System. A loud noise screamed in the back of his mind and he stiffened. 

Liu Qingge was at his side with concern flooding into the depths of his eyes. He raised a single eyebrow as a nonverbal question. 

“Fine,” Shen Qingqiu breathed. 

Eyebrows softening, his shidi nodded. It was strange to know the war god so well. There was a time that Shen Qingqiu thought his expressions were always just some variation of pissed off. At some point, he had begun to learn the varying degrees beneath his stern and cold visage. 

At his other side, Luo Binghe leaned in and said, “Shizun is not alone.” Steel determination burned in his eyes, as if he were ready to raze the sect if need be. 

Ah. No, thank you! Shen Qingqiu would like to avoid that outcome, please! 

“Thank you, Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu said with a quiet smile. 

The three of them stepped into the flourish of activity that spun right beyond the open doors to the meeting hall. Voices climbed to the ceiling, with amicable laughter dancing around between friends. Before they stepped in too much further, a light touch on his wrist made Shen Qingqiu pause. 

Liu Qingge’s fingers were almost cold. He drew a thumb across the back of his hand, eyes bright as if he were about to plunge into battle. “Not alone,” he reminded him, staring deeply into his eyes. 

Ah! Hello?

What was with that serious face!!

Heat rose to Shen Qingqiu’s cheeks, and his fan was there in an instant to shield his reaction. His stomach leaped up into his throat, with his heart wreaking havoc around his ribs. Ah! It was too soon since Liu Qingge teased him by kissing his wrist. What the hell?! He tried not to cringe at the memory. Anyone would have such a reaction! Just look at how beautiful Liu Qingge was! It wasn’t as if Shen Qingqiu was bent or anything!

(He… couldn’t think about that now. Not now.)

The hold slipped away, and Shen Qingqiu’s skin ached from the emptiness. His fingers curled and tucked away into his sleeve. He was certain he thanked his shidi. At least, he hoped he didn’t just gape like a fool. They split apart, going to their respective seats. Luo Binghe followed Shen Qingqiu to stand behind him. 

A few peak lords tried to catch his attention and start a conversation. He forced himself into cold politeness and ruthlessly cut down any probing questions. Eventually the sect leader stepped into the room. He wore fine silks, his hair drawn up in an intricate fashion with a heavy guan atop his head. There was a vacant smile on his expression, belying something heavier underneath. He made it to the head of the table. With only one apologetic glance towards Shen Qingqiu, the meeting started. 

The situation was brought forth in a clinical and precise manner. From the start of Jin Lan City to the disastrous end. As soon as the floor opened for questions, Shen Qingqiu was bombarded by them. He stood and sank into his role of the Qing Jing Peak Lord. From over his fan, he was surprised to see more than one encouraging face. 

Qi Qingqi led questions around in his favor. 

Mu Qingfang stood as both witness and testament to his nature. 

Others argued that Shen Qingqiu would never work with demons, especially not after what occurred during the demonic invasion and the Immortal Conference! 

It seemed that all the preparations he had made with Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge were unnecessary. There were, of course, a handful of devil’s advocates and others who remembered the Original Goods far too well. Their voices were not as loud as the others were. Bit by bit he felt himself relax. He had spent years building up his rapport and relations between his fellow martial siblings. The Cang Qiong Sect had his back. It was… nice. More than nice.

The next set of questions brought forth Luo Binghe – the Huan Hua Palace had spun a tale of woe, an abused disciple trying to escape his evil and power hungry master. With a honey-sweet tongue and shining eyes, Luo Binghe completely destroyed that notion. He even gave Shen Qingqiu moon eyes. Really selling the act there, protagonist!! Maybe a bit too much?

We don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea!!

“What happened during the Immortal Conference?” one of the peak lords asked. 

Luo Binghe’s shoulders dropped and he turned his head away, “This disciple failed his shizun…” He waited, letting the conversation lapse just long enough to put the other peak lords on the edge of their seats. Even Shen Qingqiu found his gut tightening in anticipation, waiting to hear how his disciple would spin this lie. “This one was but a mere youth, determined to prove himself to his shizun, who had placed so much faith in him…” 

It was a heartwrenching tale. One that painted Shen Qingqiu a hero. Stepping in, he had valiantly defended the youths partaking in the Immortal Conference and attempted to bring them all to safety. Then a powerful beast had crawled forth from the shadows, looking for blood. Shen Qingqiu had valiantly thrown himself into battle to protect the disciples. He had nearly slain the beast, only to be thwarted when Without-a-Cure acted up. Even crippled, he had fought bravely and determined.

Until everything went wrong. 

As Luo Binghe took another dramatic break from his tale, allowing the silence to simmer, everyone remembered how they found Shen Qingqiu: severely wounded and utterly broken. It didn’t take much for them to make their own connections, painting the story in a grimmer sense. 

“This lowly disciple failed Shizun,” Luo Binghe murmured, pain in his eyes. “I-” 

Shen Qingqiu rose from his seat, unable to stop himself. “Binghe,” he said, discomfort twisting his insides. He couldn’t stand it – the repainting of this tale. Not when the truth was so much more horrific. “You did not fail this master. He failed you.” He was surprised at the emotion in his voice.

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe gasped, looking up at him with tears in his eyes. 

It was then that Shen Qingqiu realized he had played right into Luo Binghe’s carefully woven act. Ah. Well. The entire assembly held their breath, hands held over their hearts, at the heartbreaking scene before them. 

Flustered, Shen Qingqiu hid behind his fan and he sharply said, “Enough. No more of this.” 

“Indeed,” Yue Qingyuan agreed, slowly. There was something off in his expression. “Let’s move on.”

The weakest part of their argument was the woman. They finally had a name: Qiu Haitang. Her family name was not lost on Shen Qingqiu. The best that he could offer when probed with questions about her was the truth: he did not remember. 

His heart went out to the original Shen Qingqiu. The man had worked decades to build up his reputation and to bury his past. Luckily most of the questions focused on the demons and Luo Binghe’s treatment. Some brushed uncomfortably close to the past, which was too much like telling a dead man’s secrets. It wasn’t as if Shen Qingqiu had any heart for the Original Goods or anything. It just felt wrong airing another man’s dirty laundry after you had sort of… stolen his body after he died.

By the end of it all, Shen Qingqiu felt strung out and gutted like one of Liu Qingge’s kills. The meeting was adjourned, with the Cang Qiong Sect strongly in support of Shen Qingqiu. They had covered what preparations needed to be done upon the imminent arrival of the Huan Hua Palace and the other sects – though they decided to leave specific details off until the next day. 

Shen Qingqiu was exhausted. 

As others leaked out of the building, he gathered his feet underneath him and wiped away wrinkles from his silks. He waited for Liu Qingge to come around the table. It wasn’t until a body stood at his side that he realized the sect leader had stepped up next to him. “Qingqiu,” Yue Qingyuan said, speaking quietly. “If you can stay back a moment?” 

Unease caused the hairs on Shen Qingqiu’s arms to raise. He held his fan in front of him and said, “This shidi can not offer any privacy for Sect Leader Yue.” As if to underline his point, both Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge stepped up to either side of him.

It was like having two jealous guard dogs. Ah! How nice. If only!!

Yue Qingyuan gave both of them a bland smile. “Liu-shidi. Disciple Luo. This one apologizes, but if there is any way you two might be able to step a little further back…?” 

No. Sorry, they can’t!

Sighing through his nose, Shen Qingqiu gave both of them a small nod. There was no use running from whatever this conversation was. It was better to have it now before Mu Qingfang forced him to tell the sect leader the truth.

When the other two left, Luo Binghe barely on the edge of respect with his glare, the sect leader turned to Shen Qingqiu. There was a vacant smile on his face. It reminded Shen Qingqiu of a cadaver, painted up and ready for a casket. It made his blood drain from his face. 

“How much has Xiao-Jiu forgotten?” Yue Qingyuan asked. 

Shen Qingqiu’s hand twitched. All at once, his vision faded around the edges and he felt disconnected from himself. He felt his expression twist into a sneer and he said with scolding venom, “Do not call me that.” 

Eyes lowering, Yue Qingyuan’s bland smile broadened. It remained lifeless. “Of course, Qingqiu-shidi. This shixiong apologies.” He sighed and looked off to the side. “He also apologizes for… all of this-” 

A crack echoed across the hall. 

It took Shen Qingqiu staring at his own hand and feeling the sting on his own palm to realize what he had just done.

He had slapped the sect leader.

Yue Qingyuan’s head was forcefully turned aside, and he stared in shock at the wall. 

Heat filled up Shen Qingqiu’s throat and spilled out of him, “That was humiliating. What am I? A street performance?” He hissed, anger choking him. “You manage to make so many sounds with that useless mouth of yours and none ever manage to actually have any meaning.  Keep apologizing. Waste your breath. Let all the air bleed from your lungs. Choke on your empty promises. Words from your lips are worth nothing.” 

The blank, dead look had shattered. Yue Qingyuan stared at Shen Qingqiu in disbelief. He stared at him with hope.

It was too much. He twisted away with a dramatic flourish of silk and stalked away. 

Someone shouted his name and he ignored it. His body was an automated machine that had one destination in mind, and it was moving on its own. Colors, faces, and sounds blurred past him. It wasn’t until he stood in front of the door to his Bamboo House that he felt like himself. He could not remember the walk back. His breath was staggered. Heavy. 

“...Shizun?” 

Shen Qingqiu couldn’t look over his shoulder. His hands shook. He pushed inside the Bamboo House. When he reached the main room, a hand caught onto his wrist and twisted him around. Eyes falling shut, he barely stopped himself from throwing himself to the closest pair of arms. He forced a breath from his lungs and said, “I don’t know. Before you ask, I don’t know.” 

It wasn’t me, he wanted to say, but that possibility terrified him more than anything. 

That thought might lead to others. He had run on the assumption that the Original Goods had died before he stepped into this body.

If Shen Qingqiu, the real one, was-

“Yuan.” A warm hand slid over his cheek and cradled his face.

Shen Yuan’s eyes opened. 

Standing before him with a painfully gentle expression, Liu Qingge watched him. His thumb trailed a feather-light path across his skin, which inspired goosebumps to chase up his spine. “Are you alright?” the war god asked. 

It was too much to explain – and saying it aloud might make it true. He swallowed everything down, locking it away, and said, “Yes, Qingge.” 

A wrinkle formed between Liu Qingge’s eyebrows. He didn’t believe him. He plucked one of Shen Yuan’s hands and pressed it against his chest. It was only in his shidi’s steady hold that made him realize how much he was shaking. “Breathe with me,” he said, and took in a deep breath. His chest rose with the motion.

Liu Qingge was solid and warm. He was real. Shen Yuan stared at his chest. His fingers slid up, trailing across silk. 

Real. Not a character. Warm. Breathing. And so incredibly real. Someone who had a life. Someone who had a history and a future. His fingers trailed up further and found warm skin. There was a mole on his neck. A pulse fluttered underneath his fingertips. Liu Qingge swallowed. 

Wherever this all started – if it was just a book or it wasn’t – Liu Qingge was real. They all were. 

Shen Qingqiu was once real. 

Both of his hands held either side of Liu Qingge’s face, fingertips light on his jaw. It moved as his lips parted. Nothing but a soft wisp of air escaped. Then a tongue darted out, wetting his lips. 

Shen Yuan felt that fluttering heartbeat quicken underneath his pinky, and watched ivory skin color and heat underneath his hands. 

Real. Real. And full of so much life. 

And…

Awkwardly allowing him to feel up his face!

Shen Qingqiu snatched back his hands, blinking back to reality. He stood inside the Bamboo House, with his shidi and his disciple. His heartbeat resounded inside his chest. “I…” He cleared his throat. “Liu-shidi, I-” 

“No apologies,” Liu Qingge interrupted, breathless. He stared down at the space between them, crimson with a blush.

“I think that calls for an apology!” Shen Qingqiu protested with a croak.

“No,” Liu Qingge met his eyes. “It doesn’t.” 

Shen Qingqiu opened his mouth and his shidi’s gaze fell to it. There was a dark look in his eyes.

Shit! Had Shen Qingqiu finally pushed the war god too far!? 

Breathing in sharply through his nose, Liu Qingge set his jaw. His hands flexed into fists and he slowly let out a long breath. “Yuan is okay?” 

“Yes,” Shen Qingqiu murmured, hiding behind his fan again. “Thanking Qingge.” 

With a nod, the war god glanced towards Luo Binghe. Both of them exchanged a coded look that was completely lost on Shen Qingqiu. “Dinner?” his shidi asked. 

“Yes!” Luo Binghe said with a start. 

Thankfully, they left behind whatever moment just happened and moved on. 

A grand meal spilled out onto the table before them. Shen Qingqiu could have wept. He greedily plucked from several different dishes, letting succulent meats melt on his tongue and inhaled glazed vegetables. He was in heaven. No restrictions on food! No worrying about medicine! Other than Without-a-cure, of course, but he was ignoring that at the moment. 

Across the table, Liu Qingge no longer attempted to smother any of his smiles. It was a gift in itself. The man was quite beautiful. He sensed Shen Qingqiu’s attention and looked up at him from underneath a set of dark eyelashes. The man was already dangerously attractive with a scowl. When he smiled, it made him quite breathtaking.

(Oh, no.) 

Luo Binghe beamed, practically glowing from the unsaid praise at the silent dinner table. Mouths were too preoccupied with food to give any comment. Happiness suited him well. It brought out the warmth in his skin, and made lights dance in his eyes. He, being the protagonist, was also incredibly handsome! He no longer had the rounded cheeks of a youth, and instead had sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw. His lips were full and soft-

(Oh… no.)

Clearing his throat, Shen Qingqiu set down his chopsticks and let his hands rest in his lap. Two pairs of eyes slid to him. “Now we just have to make preparations for the arrival of the Huan Hua Palace. We should have some time – at the very least, a week.” He looked over at his disciple and said, “Thanking Binghe for all of his hard work in this endeavor.” 

“We will make sure they don’t imprison you, Shizun,” Luo Binghe said. It sounded like a vague threat towards the other sects. 

“Mn,” Liu Qingge agreed. As he finished his part of the meal, he set it aside. His posture was always pristine, even as his shoulders slumped from his exhaustion. He had bounced back from his nap earlier, but it seemed the entire day caught up to him. His eyelids looked especially heavy.

Cute!

(...shit.)

Ignoring the way his heart flopped around, Shen Qingqiu clapped his hands together and said, “Time for bed then?” 

No one helped Luo Binghe with the dishes; he shooed them off if they tried. They all wandered inside the kitchen, and Liu Qingge did his best to remain standing as he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed.

“I suppose this means we will be sleeping together for the first time,” Shen Qingqiu said aloud, tapping his fan against his chin.

Two pairs of suddenly very awake eyes snapped to him.

Shen Qingqiu continued, “In this world, that is.” Heat rose to his cheeks. What!? They were all men!! What was the problem with that?! “If either of you are uncomfortable, we can find some sleeping mats.”

There were a few beats where no one said anything. Then Luo Binghe cheerfully said, “We already shared a bed, Shizun. This disciple sees no issue doing so again.” 

“This bed is smaller,” Shen Qingqiu reminded him.

Liu Qingge’s mouth opened and shut. His glower deepened as he glared down at the floorboards. “Fine.” 

It was normal! Why were the two of them making such a big deal out of it? 

Shen Qingqiu ignored the way his pulse was quickening.

Normally after dinner, there were a few hours of uninterrupted peace for Shen Qingqiu to work or lay back and fall into a book. He loved the softening of the world as it drifted into the night. As much as he yearned for that, all he could think about was hitting the bed and knocking out. He was certain Liu Qingge felt the same. 

Dishes were cleaned, and not before long all of them were inside his bedroom. Well. Almost. Two bodies stood at the entryway, as if stuck behind some sort of barrier. With an endeared huff, Shen Qingqiu shook his head and began the process of getting ready for bed. Was it really that bad, sharing a bed with this old man?! 

Please. To think the two of them had offered a cure! 

(Don’t think about that!) 

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe said, voice rough and low. His dark eyes were heady. “Let this disciple help?” 

Ah! His little perfectionist. He must hate the way that Shen Qingqiu was handling his silks! His overrobe was cast aside on a nearby chair, and his belt hung over it.

“If Binghe wants,” Shen Qingqiu said with a nod. 

Luo Binghe stepped into the room with an anxious swallow. He drifted over. Long fingers, trembling slightly, dragged along the collar of Shen Qingqiu’s robe and slid down along the lip of the fabric. The first tie caught his fingertips, and he tugged at the strings until the knot unwound. He sought the next tie. It came undone. And then the next. His hands were careful and reverent, as if he were conducting some sort of prayer. 

As the first layer fell open, Luo Binghe stepped behind Shen Qingqiu and rested his hands on his shoulders. He leaned in close, lips next to his ear, as he murmured, “This disciple will care for Shizun.” 

At the doorway, Liu Qingge watched. His dark eyes glimmered, fingers twitching at his sides. 

Fabric glided off Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders with Luo Binghe’s guiding hands. He gathered the silk in his arms, and moved to put it away.

It left Shen Qingqiu feeling more naked than he should, and that had been only one layer! He had at least four more! Liu Qingge’s voice was in the back of his mind: Different rules. He hoped his blush wasn’t as obvious as it felt. 

Come on! His disciple was just being helpful. 

The next few layers were almost excruciating. Luo Binghe continued with the tenderly slow pace. Sparks ignited wherever his fingers brushed or pressed. The war god did not move from the entrance. His hands had folded into fists.

By the time Shen Qingqiu was dressed for bed, he was more than happy for the excuse to sit. His skin was on fire. In the mirror, he saw that his shidi had finally stepped into the room. The door closed behind him. His face was red and he twitched, eyes magnetized to the two of them. 

“Does Shishu want to help Shizun with his hair?” Luo Binghe asked. 

Liu Qingge startled. He glanced between both of them. His eyes met Shen Qingqiu.

Throat tight, Shen Qingqiu dipped his head giving quiet permission. Just bros helping other bros getting ready for bed! That was all this was!! His shidi stepped forward and switched places with Luo Binghe. The war god wasn’t necessarily known for being gentle, but he surprised Shen Qingqiu. He took out his hair ornamentation, trembling only slightly at first. 

Poor Shidi! You must be so tired!!

When the last piece was set on the vanity, Liu Qingge took the brush and started to run it through his hair. His touch was gentle, with just enough pressure on his scalp to be relaxing. Shen Qingqiu’s eyes fell shut. 

Behind him, he heard the shuffling of more silk. Luo Binghe undressing. His fingers curled, and blunt nails dug into the palms of his hands. It was normal! All of them would sleep in their inner robes. What was the problem with that!?

(Fuck.)

Shen Qingqiu’s mouth was dry and he was having a hard time swallowing. It was hard to relax again. His eyes cracked open when he heard a soft, “Would Liu-shishu like some help?” 

A complicated expression twisted Liu Qingge’s face. He considered the back of Shen Qingqiu’s head, then nodded once. His skin was permanently stained with a blush. 

Shen Qingqiu did not mean to watch them through the reflection of the mirror, but he was captivated. Was this how it had looked, with him and…? There was something tangibly intimate about the way Luo Binghe undressed his shishu. Every single step was executed with adoring care. There was a dark look in Liu Qingge’s steel eyes. 

Heat coiled in the pit of Shen Qingqiu’s stomach. Fabric was knotted in his hands. Every breath was accompanied by a resounding heartbeat. His face flushed. 

Layers spilled off of Liu Qingge, chasing away the severity of his form. He softened into something new in just the thin layers of his inner robes. He was alluring, cheeks reddened and lips parted. An indescribable hunger darkened his eyes as he watched Luo Binghe put away the last layers of his robes.

(…oh.)

“This Binghe can also help Liu-shishu with his hair…?” Luo Binghe offered, watching his shishu through the dark fan of his lashes. Then his eyes slid over to Shen Qingqiu, meeting them in the mirror. “Unless Shizun would like to?” 

Shen Qingqiu sat up, feeling guilty at being caught staring. A denial hung on his tongue, and he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to deny. Then it hit him. Like a pail of luke-warm water sliding over him, shame cascaded through him. He was having a reaction. 

What. What the fuck?!?!

Heat curled and throbbed in his gut. He became painfully aware of certain parts of his own anatomy, along with the thin layers that did nothing to hide it. 

Sirens started blaring in his mind. 

Fuck, fuck, FUCK. 

WHAT. 

“Shizun?” Luo Binghe cocked his head, his dark curls falling over his shoulder. 

“B-Binghe can handle it,” Shen Qingqiu croaked. What he really wanted to do was run out of the room. Except that he really didn’t want to deal with the fucking agony of stepping too far from Luo Binghe. On the other hand, it might help kill his-

It would help with his… reaction.

Right?

(It fucking better. If he started to develop a thing for pain on top of-)

“Blankets,” he said, throwing himself from the chair. He swept out of the room, with only weak sounds of protest behind him. 

What the fuck. 

What.

Shen Qingqiu was straight. What the hell was going on? Was it simply the protagonist’s aura!? He swept straight towards where he kept extra linens, trying to escape the thoughts that chased his heels. 

Now was not the time to have a fucking identity crisis! 

As he threw open the cabinet door, he stared at the folded blankets. It was fine. It had just… been a while since he had some time to himself. That was all. And anyone would have that reaction to seeing such beautiful people undress! Anyone!! It wasn’t like he was-

There’s no way he was-

“Shizun?” 

Shen Qingqiu sprung up, startled. He should have noticed that no pain followed him with his escape. He haphazardly grabbed blankets and turned towards his disciple. “Blankets,” he said, like a fucking moron.

Worry pressed a wrinkle between Luo Binghe’s eyebrows. His eyes scoured over Shen Qingqiu’s face. He wanted to reach up and rub that wrinkle away. 

(...)

“For the bed,” Shen Qingqiu continued, “to sleep.” His mouth kept running. “There wasn’t enough. For us. The three of us? Because…” 

“Shizun…” Luo Binghe leaned in. He smelled like Shen Qingqiu’s soap – like the bath they all shared. Like home. Like… “This disciple doesn’t want you to get hurt. Next time we need something, we can go together.” 

“It…” Shen Qingqiu’s throat dried. He stopped himself from uselessly tacking on “blankets” and closed his mouth.

“Come on.” Liu Qingge stole the blankets from him, sweeping out from seemingly nowhere. He turned and headed back towards the bedroom. 

“Is Shizun alright?” Luo Binghe asked. 

“Fine,” Shen Qingqiu said, too quickly. He ignored the way his face heated, and he escaped past his disciple and pretended to have some dignity. Whatever just happened – that was a fluke. Nothing more. 

Just a hiccup.

Just- 

At the doorway, Luo Binghe caught him. He hesitated for only half a second. Then he reached up, pushing a strand of Shen Qingqiu’s hair behind his ear. His dark eyes held a world of emotions, each lost on Shen Qingqiu. “Shizun is sure?” 

For a horrifying second, Shen Qingqiu wondered if his internal dilemma had become a mindless rant.

Then he realized his disciple was asking if he was okay. 

“Fine, Binghe! Fine,” Shen Qingqiu said, catching his hand. “It’s fine. I just… remembered blankets. That’s all.” I am not some maiden!! Don’t do that! You’ll give this old man heart palpitations! 

“If Shizun is sure,” Luo Binghe spoke so low the reverberations of his voice rang in Shen Qingqiu’s chest.

They were too close. 

Too close!

When did Luo Binghe get so tall?! Ah! 

With a tight smile, Shen Qingqiu patted his disciple’s (thick) chest and squeezed back into his bedroom. 

Everything was fine!!

It was fine!

(…fuck!)