Work Text:
Shang Qinghua's month could only be described as a series of unfortunate events.
It started when his favourite head disciple, who basically ran the peak whenever Shang Qinghua was in the Northern Desert, suffered an ambush while signing a trade deal with a den of snake demons. With his most capable assistant out of commission on Mu Qingfang's orders, Shang Qinghua delegated as much as he could to other responsible disciples. But with a fresh diplomatic scandal on Cang Qiong's side and lingering unrest in the wake of Mobei-jun's official ascension—on top of his ordinary burdens as a peak lord and advisor—Shang Qinghua wanted nothing more than to split himself in two.
Even his king caught onto his woes and didn't complain about becoming a glorified chauffeur.
("My king, can you make a portal to An Ding Peak please? It's urgent."
The space in front of him tore open. "Will you return tonight?"
"Probably not, sorry. See you tomorrow!"
…
"My king, can you pick me up and send us back to the palace please? I scheduled a meeting—"
Mobei-jun appeared from the portal beside him, wrapped one arm around his waist, and stepped out into their palace quarters. Shang Qinghua was gone before his king could remind him of the cloak lying haphazardly on the table, abandoned after his previous trip to Cang Qiong Mountain. Much like the demon standing next to it.)
Up to that point, however, Shang Qinghua had still been confident that everything was under control. Even if he nearly shredded the papers from Bai Zhan Peak requesting repair materials and funds.
(Ten days into the month and it was already the third time. If it happened again before the halfway mark, Shang Qinghua was going to raze the battle-crazed peak himself.
Well, at least its front gates.)
Then some idiot brought a poisonous flower into the sect as a courting gift and sent half the unlucky recipient's peak to Qian Cao, whose medics were so overwhelmed that Shang Qinghua had to lend several of his remaining competent assistants over (those with the most advanced medical mastery short of Mu Qingfang's tutelage).
To prevent low-IQ NPCs from further extending his work hours, Shang Qinghua wrote, cloned, and ordered the distribution of hundreds of informational talismans overnight, which he charmed to quiz disciples until they memorized basic wildlife identification and safety (or passed out foaming at the mouth) and could not be silenced or destroyed until its questions were satisfactorily answered. The rest of his night was spent cleaning up after the debacle, beginning with writing placating letters to their allies—because of course the aforementioned idiot had "generously" gifted the remainder of the flowers to their largest supplier of Ice Jade Lotus seeds. One outbreak later, Shang Qinghua had a startled disciple, several angry letters, and an invitation to battle at his desk.
And to accommodate the sudden depletion in their storage of medicinal pills and plants, he needed to draw up a plan for short-term reallocation of sect resources while sending messenger talismans left and right for inventory updates—heavens, he could feel his hair falling out already.
The following day, Yue Qingyuan called for a peak lords meeting at noon.
Shang Qinghua nearly lost the sect leader's talisman to a particularly rough sneeze at his desk. He'd been sneezing practically nonstop since his return earlier that morning from the Northern Desert, after a successful negotiation with the Three-Tailed Ivory Deer demon tribe. Mobei-jun had wrestled a promise out of him to sleep once he'd confirmed for himself that no, the sect was not burning down without him, but the demon's own plate was full—he was practically running the demon realm while their emperor was … probably on Cang Qiong Mountain, actually.
So no one would know if Shang Qinghua just finished this pile first. And maybe the next one too—there was so much to catch up on.
But that would have to wait.
With a long stretch and a wince as his back muscles groaned in stiffness, Shang Qinghua set off for Qiong Ding Peak.
Several of his martial siblings were already seated when he entered. He managed an awkward smile and wave, to which Yue Qingyuan returned a nod (though was that a frown?), before scuffling quickly to his place. As he settled down, he felt an odd stare follow his movements—from Qi Qingqi, of all people—and it did not abate as he met her gaze.
Shang Qinghua glanced down at himself subtly, then back up in bewilderment—his robes were clean, he hadn't accidentally worn Mobei-jun's clothes (it had only happened once, after a demon banquet that had run late into the night, and to this day he blamed it on the hangover); there shouldn't have been any fault she could find on him.
She huffed slightly and muttered something under her breath that he couldn't catch, then turned away. Shang Qinghua wrinkled his nose, just barely holding in the sneeze prickling at the back of his throat.
A distinct march announced Liu Qingge's presence before his boots could cross the threshold.
As usual, he scanned the room from the entrance—Shang Qinghua knew by now that he was looking for Shen Qingqiu—and his jaw tightened irately when he could not locate his target.
His eyes paused over Shang Qinghua, and the furrow between his brows seemed to deepen. Shang Qinghua's fingers picked nervously at the underside of the table. He hadn't done anything to offend the Bai Zhan Peak Lord recently, had he? No, he'd approved all the repair and funding requests, despite his internal grumblings, and had only dealt the appropriate reprimand to the disciples who had destroyed half his gate with their quarrel after coming to collect their dues. Liu Qingge was not so petty.
So what was this glare about? He was Shang Qinghua, not Shen Qingqiu!
With an audible tsk, Liu Qingge moved—why are you coming closer?? the hamster in Shang Qinghua's mind pressed its hands to its cheeks and screamed—and came to a stop in front of his internally panicking shixiong. He opened his mouth.
"Shang Qinghua—"
"I don't know, don't ask me, it's not my fault—"
"—is the demon king so incompetent that he cannot rule his own kingdom?"
"Huh?"
Liu Qingge tsked. "Or is he so poor that he cannot afford another advisor?"
"I don't know what you mean, Liu-shidi." Shang Qinghua chuckled nervously. "In fact, my king—Mobei-jun is busy ruling his kingdom at this very moment."
Liu Qingge narrowed his eyes and was about to retort, but Qi Qingqi interrupted.
"Don't waste your time, Liu-shidi. They're like Zhou Yu and Huang Gai*—one hits and the other willingly takes it."
With a roll of his eyes, Liu Qingge stormed off to his own seat, eyes now firmly trained on the doorway. Shang Qinghua was mid-exhale when he noticed that now Yue Qingyuan was looking at him—was he some kind of zoo animal today? It certainly startled the sneeze away, which didn't feel as good as it should've now that it was permanently stuck somewhere behind his nose. When all of this was over, he was going to camp out in Mobei-jun's palace for a good month or two.
In the moments following, the remaining peak lords stepped into the room in quick succession, with Shen Qingqiu hurriedly gliding in last after a visibly fatigued Mu Qingfang. Shang Qinghua observed as both Yue Qingyuan's and Liu Qingge's eyes followed him in, only glancing away when Shen Qingqiu flicked open his fan to cover the bottom half of his face.
Yue Qingyuan opened the meeting with customary yet shorter-than-usual greetings, then delved straight to the point.
"Thanks to the tireless efforts of Mu-shidi and Qian Cao Peak, I am glad to see that the situation is under control. Mu-shidi, if you could please update us in more detail?"
"Yes, Zhangmen-shixiong." Mu Qingfang stood. "We have developed a preliminary treatment that successfully combats the symptoms caused by the Seven-Petaled Dawn Rose and flushes out the pollen from the patient's system …"
Shang Qinghua swore he was listening.
Well, he was trying his best, but Mu Qingfang's voice was so soothing—an ingrained effect from years of bedside manner, perhaps—that the soporific haze he'd been fighting for days finally began to descend upon him. Even sneezing wasn't helping.
" … can circumvent cleansing spells and low-level barriers, so it is crucial that disciples remain in isolation as much as possible, since it requires direct physical contact to transmit. Anyone who has come in contact with the flower—whether directly or through another person—must stay in quarantine until we have performed the necessary tests, even if they are not symptomatic."
Shang Qinghua nodded a beat too late before even registering the words with a small startle. Quarantining made sense, of course, but it was the first time he'd heard of it—but clearly this was not new to the other peak lords. It explained why his peak had been so quiet that morning.
With how frequently he'd been leaving the sect, however, he could barely remember the last time he'd seen another face. So it was probably fine, right? He'd just start being careful …
" … no faster way to cure it completely? The Shui Xian Realm opens in ten days and half of my eligible disciples are walking viruses."
Ah, the Shui Xian Realm expedition. Shang Qinghua had forgotten about that—and he really didn't like being reminded of it! If the affected disciples did not recover in time, he would need to gather candidates to replace them from all the peaks, reassess the resources needed for the trip, perform last-minute background checks to make sure none of these new picks would backstab fellow sect members—
His head was beginning to throb already.
" … already so short-staffed even with a third of An Ding Peak helping us out," Mu Qingfang argued. "It's a miracle we could even develop this concoction in such a short time. The poisonous properties of this pollen had never been discovered before because it is consumed regularly by herbivores in the area, who assist in its pollination process—"
"That's not important right now—"
"—which means there's no previous documentation on its effects or treatment," Mu Qingfang snapped. "Honestly, we shouldn't be having this meeting, Zhangmen-shixiong; it would be disastrous if the peak lords all came down with it at once."
Shang Qinghua had to agree. If only they had technology—what he'd give to exchange their current setting for an online meeting where he could stay muted with his camera off, bulldozing through paperwork while the others argued.
He glanced sideways at his fellow transmigrator. Shen Qingqiu seemed to be listening attentively; his right index finger tapped the side of his fan, as he often did while thinking (the tapping usually turned into drawing circles if he was was thinking about Luo Binghe). Shang Qinghua wondered if he recalled any relevant details about the plant—there may not have been any known documentation in this world, but the odds of it having appeared in his novel were … honestly not low. Unfortunately, his own memory could not be trusted.
Shen Qingqiu seemed to feel his gaze and looked over. His eyes widened slightly, and Shang Qinghua followed his gaze as it assessed him from head to toe.
He angled his head slightly in question, but only received an answering glare. What was the matter with everyone today? Really, whatever it was, he was innocent!
But Yue Qingyuan was calling for the peak lords' attention back.
"It is prudent for everyone to ensure Mu-shidi's instructions are followed throughout the peaks so that we can retain control of the situation. That will be all. Ah, Shang-shidi," Yue Qingyuan called as they rose from their seats, his gentle smile sending a jolt of unease down Shang Qinghua's spine, "if you could scour the archives in the demon realm for any mention of the Seven-Petaled Dawn Rose and let Mu-shidi know of your findings, that would be much appreciated."
Shang Qinghua returned a lacklustre grin. "Of course, Zhangmen-shixiong."
Naturally, he was the one being asked—never mind that Shen Qingqiu was the actual co-ruler of the demon realm. No, all they remembered was that Shang Qinghua had been fraternizing with demons before his dear reader had even entered this world.
But since Mobei-jun was doing most of the actual demon emperor work, would that make Shang Qinghua the co-ruler after all? He'd have to remember to ask for a promotion sometime. Once all this madness was over and he went back to his usual schedule, perhaps.
Yue Qingyuan seemed like he had something more to say, but Shang Qinghua's itchy nose would not wait. A gust drifting in from the now open door sent a shiver down his back and catalyzed a chain of sneezes that left him blinking the moisture from his eyes.
He rubbed a hand over his face. "Ah, if there's nothing else, Zhangmen-shixiong, I will just—"
"You aren't going anywhere except straight to bed, Shang-shidi."
Oh, no.
Shang Qinghua knew that tone.
Shen Qingqiu was mad.
And he had placed himself between Shang Qinghua and the only exit, storming towards him at an alarming speed.
Shang Qinghua began to back up, only to find a hand already fisted in his robes, pinning him in place.
"Ahaha, Cu—Shen-shixiong, long time no see." Shang Qinghua held his hands up in surrender with a nervous chuckle. "What can I do for you on this fine day? Perhaps a cup of tea—"
Shen Qingqiu's fist did not loosen its grip, but his next words were directed to Yue Qingyuan. "Qingqiu will seek information on the Seven-Petaled Dawn Rose in the demon realm and report any findings back to Zhangmen-shixiong. Requesting dismissal so that Shang-shidi can rest and show up to the next meeting looking less like an abused panda."
Had Shen Qingqiu's sharp tongue levelled up during his honeymoon? Shang Qinghua caught the glare his shixiong directed towards him with his last words and sheepishly glanced away. Surely his appearance wasn't that unsightly.
"Of course, Qingqiu-shidi." The tension in Yue Qingyuan's shoulders seemed to ease as he dipped his chin. "You are free to depart."
And that was how several disciples on the route from Qiong Ding peak to An Ding Peak felt an unusually strong wind blow past them—accompanied by noises that sounded suspiciously like sneezing—yet when they turned around, all that remained was a dissipating trail of vapour.
Shang Qinghua collapsed to the ground as soon as Shen Qingqiu's sword deposited them on the ground. "Cucumber-bro," he wheezed, "are you trying to murder your dearest friend?"
At least Shen Qingqiu had the sensibility to look guilty. He raised his fan a fraction higher, clearing his throat. "I might be … a little rusty."
"From your favourite disciple carrying you around all day, I'm sure."
Shen Qingqiu rolled his eyes and let himself into Shang Qinghua's humble abode. "Can't compare to Mobei-jun ripping apart the fabric of space-time for you ten times a day."
"Oho, did I hit the nail on the head?" Shang Qinghua followed him inside, head still spinning as he stumbled onto a stool. A faint ringing hovered somewhere nearby, but he couldn't tell in which direction.
With a tsk, Shen Qingqiu pushed a cup of—was that plain hot water?—towards him. "Drink and then go to bed, you tailless raccoon. Or are those dark circles your fashion statement now?"
Now that he had a moment to pause and stare, his bed did seem very enticing. He could practically feel the soft fabric pillowed against his skin, its filling of Long-Eared Arctic Bear fur enveloping him in warmth. The sound-insulating curtains around his bed would provide much-needed peace and quiet. Indeed, even the Shui Xian Realm expedition could wait until after his nap …
So why did it feel like he was forgetting something?
He frowned, mentally listing the tasks still pending his attention, though the constant ringing was starting to irritate him. It was louder than earlier too, almost right by his ears. He tipped the cup over his mouth, but nothing flowed out. It clattered to the table.
"The banquet!" Shang Qinghua jumped up and frantically began searching for his cloak. Before he could reach it, however, Shen Qingqiu latched onto the back of his collar and hauled him across the room, depositing him on the bed.
"Cucumber-bro, this is important! All the Northern Desert demon clans will be there, and I need to oversee the preparations. I can't believe I almost forgot, and Mobei didn't remind me at all—achoo!"
"You need to rest because you're going to collapse!" Shen Qingqiu jabbed his fan at Shang Qinghua's shoulder. "Have you seen yourself in the mirror? You look like a vampire raccoon that hasn't eaten a full meal in weeks, and you've caught a cold. I don't care how many refreshment pills you've taken, we're cultivators, not immortals." He stalked over to Shang Qinghua's work desk, pulled a stack of blank paper from the drawer, and brought it and a brush dipped in ink to his shidi. "Write down anything that can't wait within the next two days. Then go. To. Bed."
Shang Qinghua curled his fingers around the brush, barely catching it each time it threatened to slip out of his grip. When an ink blot bloomed on the page, Shen Qingqiu snatched the utensils away.
"Never mind, just tell me. Don't look at me like that, I'll make things work—you know I will."
With a slow yawn—had he always been this tired? Blinking was more difficult than he remembered—Shang Qinghua rubbed at his aching eyes. "So pushy, Cucumber-bro. Fine, fine. The banquet is the most important, then confirming the shipment of purple mint leaves due for this afternoon—Mu-shidi needs them for the antidote he's working on. Also …"
The list trailed on, his voice thinning as he slowly drifted towards the bedpost. Eventually, the words stopped altogether, and he tipped backwards onto the mattress.
Shen Qingqiu sighed and begrudgingly manoeuvred him into a more comfortable position. He pulled the blanket out as much as he could to at least cover his shidi's stomach, but half still remained trapped beneath him.
But Mobei-jun could deal with that.
Satisfied, Shen Qingqiu blew the ink dry on each of the lists he'd made for sect-related and demon realm-related affairs, and shut the door behind him as he left.
The sleep-inducing incense would keep Shang Qinghua deep in comfortable slumber for a while yet.
—·—
Mobei-jun entered with a rush of frigid air that he directed back out the door before it could disturb his sleeping lover.
His own body temperature was difficult to warm, but nowadays his robes were laden with so many outward warming charms—those emitting warmth instead of trapping it—that when he approached the bed, Shang Qinghua instinctively snuggled towards him.
Quietly, he gathered the small human into his arms and transported them to their room in the Northern Desert.
A near-identical blanket stuffed with twice as much fur lay on the bed. Mobei-jun set Shang Qinghua down slowly and wrapped the blanket around him like a cocoon, but as he turned away, a hand caught the tips of his fingers.
"I'm here," Mobei-jun soothed, his other hand combing through Shang Qinghua's hair. "Sleep."
Shang Qinghua made a "hmm" sound and burrowed deeper into the sheets, his grip lingering.
With a subtle, soft smile, Mobei-jun caressed his cheek and gently thumbed the dark circles around his eyes. Then, he sent a missive to his subordinate. He had shown his face for long enough at the banquet, despite exiting the scene early—for the remainder of the night, if there were no urgent matters, they would not be disturbed.
The past few weeks had been tough for his little hamster, and he knew he was partially at fault. But they had fulfilled their duties.
It was time to rest.