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Chapter Text

【 SHEN QINGQIU 】

Stepping into the street of Jin Lan City, Shen Qingqiu is aware now more than ever of the amount of quiet that settles over the people there like demonic miasma. It is almost smothering, unbroken except by the chatter of a few of the citizens as they gather together to get a daily meal. Shen Qingqiu is aware of their eyes heavy on him, an expression in their eyes that tells him they believe wholeheartedly that he’s a dead man walking. A kind of tired expectation after seeing so many other cultivators become trapped by the plague within their city walls.

For a moment he considers breaking that tentative silence by approaching them to ask questions. Something, however, catches his attention before he can make his way over there—a voice that breaks the thick quiet before he can find the words to do so himself.

“Rare artifacts for sale!” A loud voice barks down the street, and Shen Qingqiu sees several people turn their heads in that direction. He doesn’t need to see their faces—and can’t because of how covered up they are head-to-toe in black—to know that they aren’t happy at the interruption. What would seem normal in most markets seems tasteless here. Shen Qingqiu finds his long strides taking him to the stand.

A short man stands with hands cupped around his mouth, his chest expanding with a deep inhale before he shouts, “Rare artifacts! Magical spiritual talismans! Protections and charms! Protect yourself from the plague with a spiritual device of your own.”

Shen Qingqiu’s eyebrows start twitching as he looks down at the man, and he knows he must be channeling the original goods rather well considering the way the guy jumps. The merchant pales at first, but then slowly his expression morphs back into that of a sleazy secondhand car salesman’s, “Xiansheng hello! Fancy meeting a cultivator in these parts.”

“Hm? I was under the impression that mine was not the only group of cultivators in the city,” Shen Qingqiu says loftily. The merchant, to his credit, has recovered well from his earlier upset at Shen Qingqiu’s presence. His smile is wide and he gestures to his table.

“Ah yes, well—most are busy chasing around the answers to this plague,” the merchant says. Shen Qingqiu half expects him to start rubbing his hands together like a grubby little fly, but he does no such thing. “Xiansheng, are you interested in my wares?”

Shen Qingqiu raises his brows—does this guy think he’s an idiot? Sure, he might not be immediately recognizable as the Xiu Ya Blade by just any person on the street, but the guy can clearly tell he’s a cultivator. What kind of idiot does he take Shen Qingqiu for, to think that anything he is selling is anything more than just a few useless baubles? He can’t even say that the lies the merchant’s trying to sell them with are good ones! Nobody else is standing at your fucking stand brother, give it up!

“I’m more interested in why you’re bothering to set up shop in the street at all,” Shen Qingqiu says, sharp eyes raking over the man’s appearance. Most everyone is covered up in Jin Lan City, with the exception of those that are not infected. He’d think that this man would be hiding away to avoid the plague, but there isn’t an ounce of fear to him—no matter how you look at it, this guy is as suspicious as they come!

“Ah, Xiansheng business for us merchant types doesn’t stop for anything,” the merchant says with a smile that Shen Qingqiu will wholeheartedly label “oily”. The man gestures again at the table, “Perhaps something will catch your eye?”

Shen Qingqiu rolls his eyes and looks down—and his jaw almost drops. Not because there’s anything on the table that jumps out to him as something he’d like to purchase, but because the whole damn thing is practically radiating malicious energy! No wonder this guy pinged on Shen Qingqiu’s radar! It’s like someone setting up a shop, saying they have some toys for people to buy, and then you looking down and realizing the fucker’s got a table filled with live grenades! What the fuck!?

To put it more clearly—the table is stacked with what looks to be just about every kind of cursed object that Shen Qingqiu can think of. Sketchy looking skull amulets, mirrors that radiate demonic energy, scrolls whose edges seem to have started to decay by the sheer malevolent energy of the spells written on them… Shen Qingqiu would be hard pressed to find more contraband if he walked into the demon realm this second! 

Shen Qingqiu lifts his phoenix eyes to the merchant’s, an expression of dumbfounded wonder on his features. He isn’t sure whether he should applaud the man for being so bold or just start hacking at him with Xiu Ya for his sheer stupidity. Those merchant’s eyes are sly and cunning, but that’s clearly just appearances because Shen Qingqiu has never met a character with a lower IQ!

“You can’t be serious,” Shen Qingqiu says, though he’s not sure how this guy would manage to swing this as a joke. The merchant’s grin only widens as Shen Qingqiu’s hand drops to the hilt of his sword and he continues, “Surely you don’t think me so stupid as to not immediately piece together that you’re a demon? No human could withstand this amount of malevolent energy and keep these wares together.”

“Xiansheng is wise,” the merchant says. “Very wise indeed.”

“Are you…” Shen Qingqiu narrows his eyes—why does he feel like this guy is fucking mocking him!? I’m sorry demon dude, who the fuck is the person trying to sell evil shit to a goddamn cultivator in broad daylight!? 

“Ah! What a good choice!” The merchant says before Shen Qingqiu can put voice to his outrage, and Shen Qingqiu blinks in bewilderment. Until he feels a chill creep through his hand, and he looks down to see—what the fuck!?

While he was speaking to the merchant, somehow without Shen Qingqiu even thinking about it, he’d dropped his hand off of Xiu Ya and picked up one of the items off the table. Without even looking, he’d slipped the damn thing onto his finger. For a moment, Shen Qingqiu stares at it, utterly speechless. He recognizes that there’s a minor compulsion on the ring, but surely it’s not something that should so easily slip through his defenses—he’s a Peak Lord —what the fuck!?

“Don’t feel bad xiansheng. Fate has a funny way of working in my favor for these things,” the demon merchant says, pulling out a small pearl. Shen Qingqiu draws his sword right as the pearl smashes into the ground. An explosion of noxious fumes forces Shen Qingqiu to hide his face behind his sleeve as a thick cloud explodes around him. The smell makes him want to choke, and the only thing keeping him from blindly sashing with his sword is the fact that he doesn’t want to send a sword glare into some innocent by mistake.

One the smoke clears there is no demon, no table, and Shen Qingqiu is standing in the middle of the fucking street feeling like he’s just discovered someone had taped a “Kick Me” sign to his back for the last three years. The eyes of several normal folk are completely locked on him, and he flicks his fan open to hide his face from their judgmental gazes. How many cultivators fumble an interaction like that!? What kind of Peak Lord is he?

As he does this he checks his hand—the object he’d picked up off the table was a ring that seems unremarkable in appearance at a glance. It is a dull, matte gray-black and doesn’t shine when he moves his hand one way or the other. It is, however, dreadfully cold to the touch. To the point that the finger that he’s placed it on aches a bit at the joint.

Even knowing it will be useless, Shen Qingqiu tries to pull the ring off of his slender finger. It, of course, doesn’t budge. In fact, he hisses in pain as he feels something sharp dig into his finger. Blood wells up under the ring, dripping down the back of his hand. A strange fractal pattern forms on the ring after that, crimson lines crisscrossing the matte black before fading to the dull color it was before.

He hasn’t a single clue what this ring is, unfortunately. He doesn’t recognize it from any part of the original book’s inane wife plots, and he can’t remember Binghe using it for anything either. Which means that it’s likely something that Airplane wrote about and then never actually put in the series.

Airplane is back at the sect right now, and Shen Qingqiu doesn’t think this is the sort of thing he should just chill with on his finger. He frowns as he makes his way back to the weapons shop, feeling more than a little sheepish as he steps back into the building and down the stairs to where Mu Qingfang is getting to work on his antidote. He clearly doesn’t expect one of his martial brothers back so soon, because he lifts his head to fix Shen Qingqiu with a puzzled look.

“Ah,” Shen Qingqiu says, and he clears his throat. “Mu-shidi, when you have a moment could this Shen trouble you?”

“...I likely won’t have a moment for some time Shen-shixiong,” Mu Qingfang says, but he places his items down and walks over to Shen Qingqiu as he speaks. His sharp eyes fall on the ring on Shen Qingqiu’s finger and his eyes narrow, “...Shen-shixiong.”

The way he says that is filled with an exasperation that is not quite softened by any fondness. He’s gone past fondness. Shen Qingqiu has a million excuses that want to fall out of his mouth and he barely catches himself from rambling them out—which is alarming.

Look, Shen Qingqiu has a lot of thoughts that go through his head at any given time. He’s gotten very good at keeping that shit to himself, thank you very much! The fact that he almost started nervously babbling at his shidi is alarming because it’s very much something he shouldn’t ever get close to doing! Shen Qingqiu has always ranted to himself in his head with no concern at all. He’s a master at his own personal filter, to the point of it almost being a problem sometimes.

“This one ran into a strange merchant on the street,” Shen Qingqiu says by way of explanation. “When I was speaking with him I found myself putting this on without thinking about it. Of course he’s gotten away.”

There’s a note of bitterness to his tone that Shen Qingiu is typically better about hiding. Mu Qingfang clearly catches it, he flicks his eyes up to Shen Qingqiu’s face and rests his fingers on the inside of Shen Qingqiu’s wrist. His brow furrows and he murmurs, “It’s because of Without-a-Cure I believe, it must have made you more susceptible to its influence.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” Shen Qingqiu says, feeling less like a failure.

“It’s certainly cursed though,” Mu Qingfang says with a tired sigh, “Shixiong, I don’t know much about cursed artifacts myself but I can tell it is going to have a massive impact on your spiritual energy. That is…”

He trails off. Troubling. That is troubling. Because Shen Qingqiu’s spiritual energy is already out of whack thanks to Without-a-Cure, it certainly doesn’t need an evil ring doing anymore damage to it. Shen Qingqiu heaves a sigh despite himself, and obediently allows Mu Qingfang to guide him to a seat next to Wu Chen.

“This Shen apologizes,” Shen Qingqiu says to the man. Wu Chen, for his part, only looks over at Shen Qingqiu’s hand with a furrowed brow. Mu Qingfang allows the monk to do so, even making some room for him. “It is not this one’s intent to draw attention from the plague.”

“Not at all,” Wu Chen says calmly, he gently takes Shen Qingqiu’s hand and peers a the ring. His brow furrows as he murmurs a sutra under his breath. He looks up, meeting Shen Qingqiu’s gaze, “I know this ring.”

“You do?” Shen Qingqiu can’t help the slight hope in his tone—that’s one step closer to figuring out what is going on and how to get the damn thing off! Wu Chen releases Shen Qingqiu’s hand and sits back with a thoughtful expression.

“It is the Ring of Warmth at the Heart,” Wu Chen says. “A man made it for his beloved when he believed her to be cheating on him—it forced her to stay by his side, or slowly she would begin to grow colder and colder until she froze to death. In addition, she was also forced to speak the truth to him. Not just to never lie, but to speak.”

Shen Qingqiu can feel the color draining from his face, and his mouth snaps closed. Fuck. Was he supposed to track down that demon and stick close to him to keep from getting hypothermic out of nowhere!? What the fuck!? Shen Qingqiu’s face must have been easy to read, because Wu Chen hurriedly cleared this up;

“The pairing isn’t necessarily to the giver of the ring,” Wu Chen says. “It is to whom the Fates decide—it won’t be able to have reached further than the city I imagine. If that helps at all. But you will need to find who it has bonded to you sooner rather than later. The curse worsens over time, and the longer you are away from the other person…”

The more dangerous the ring would become. For both his spiritual energy and his ability to not freeze. Shen Qingqiu grimaces to himself, rubbing his temples with his hands. How the fuck does he end up in these situations!? He can’t even blame the System for it this time! …Which means this is all Airplane’s fault!

“Will this master be able to tell when he finds the person bonded to the ring?” Shen Qingqiu asks, looking up at Wu Chen. The monk nods seriously at him, patting his shoulder gently.

“It will be obvious to you—but recall that the effects of the truth telling aspect will be stronger with whomever you are bonded to,” Wu Chen says, “And thankfully, this curse is possible to lift in two ways—one, if one were to kill the demon who laid the curse with the help o the one bonded to you. The other method is dual cultivation with the one bonded to you.”

Yikes! Killing the demon it is—Shen Qingqiu doesn’t want to get it on with any woman he’s paired to with this ring—if only because he doesn’t want the protagonist to find out and add it to his list of sins! No thank you! He gets up and sighs heavily.

“I’ll set about looking for my temporary partner,” Shen Qingqiu says. Hopefully she would be reasonable, and not too afraid of working with him to track that demon down and kill him. He sighs heavily, thinking of what a pain it will be to keep someone safe from creatures while he drags them along for a hunt. This all smacks of a wife plot! 

Definitely Airplane’s fault!

Maybe he’d get lucky and the person he bonded to would at least be a cultivator. He just hopes it’s not one of Binghe’s wives—that would be the worst case scenario in this sort of situation.

────── 〔❅〕──────

As the day starts to slip from the late afternoon and properly into evening, Shen Qingqiu at first doesn’t really register the change in temperature as anything to be concerned about. It isn’t until he realizes that there’s a bite to the cold that is decidedly off-season that it really sticks out to him. Mostly in the hands, and on his nose. Like he’s stepped out into a crisp fall morning instead of on a relatively hot day. He flexes his fingers, furrowing his brows in a slight frown.

If he can’t find who the ring has bonded to him, what the fuck is he going to do?

“Hey!” Shen Qingqiu hears, and he jumps—his focus darting from his hands to spot Liu Qingge marching aggressively in his direction. Granted, he doesn’t think his shidi tends to do anything in a non-aggressive way. It’s sort of his default really! 

“Hello Liu-shidi,” Shen Qingqiu says when Liu Qingge unceremoniously snatches his wrist to examine the ring on his finger. Even though Liu Qingge’s hand is around his wrist, Shen Qingqiu realizes with a small amount of fascination that he can’t feel the warmth of it at all. Everything else feels normal, but it’s as if Liu Qingge’s hand simply has no temperature. “I’m guessing you spoke with Mu-shidi?”

“You were cursed,” Liu Qingge says, ever forward and simple.

“Mn,” Shen Qingqiu manages to pry his wrist away and faces Liu Qingge’s intense look head on.

“...the ring, did it…” Liu Qingge pauses, gesturing to himself and then Shen Qingqiu.

“Did it?” Shen Qingqiu asks, because he’s truly not sure what Liu Qingge is suggesting.

“The bond, is it with me?” Liu Qingge grits out.

“Wh—no?” Shen Qingqiu says—he’s not sure why that flusters him! He didn’t consider it okay? He knows this is probably meant for a wife plot, so naturally he as imagining it was going to bond him to a woman. He didn’t even think men like Liu Qingge were on the table! He’s glad that isn’t the case, he can’t imagine how annoyed Liu Qingge would be to be stuck to Shen Qingqiu like glue and keeping him from freezing to death.

The muscle in Liu Qingge’s jaw twitches, and Shen Qingqiu is ready to assure him that he was told he would be very sure if it was him. The man stares at Shen Qingqiu so intensely that the words die on his tongue though—what’s with that look shidi!? He’s not doing this all on purpose or anything!

“The plague is caused by sowers,” Liu Qingge bluntly says after a long moment of this. Shen Qingqiu feels his shoulders relax despite himself, “Don’t get infected.”

“Ah, makes sense,” Shen Qingqiu says to him. “You’ll be going out to catch them then?”

Liu Qingge glances at him, but doesn’t grace the words with an answer. With the soft hiss and ring of metal, Liu Qingge draws Cheng Luan and jumps onto the blade. With that, he flies off through the streets, keeping low enough that he doesn’t set off the wards and makes Shen Qingqiu hope that he won’t knock into any walls or anything.

Sowers then hm? That sure clicks things together! They haven’t been around for some time, almost driven instinct due to their particularly gruesome method of obtaining food. If Shen Qingqiu wasn’t out looking for his second half of the curse he might have been of some help to finding them out. He knows about sowers! 

Keeping an eye out for them will be another issue entirely though, Shen Qingqiu considers. After all, most of the people in Jin Lan City right now are understandably bundled from head to toe in black cloth. It’s all too easy for a sower to hide their tell-tale bright red skin under such pretenses. 

He is just considering this when a person clad in all black comes hurtling down the street right for him. Shen Qingqiu steps back quickly, though he doesn’t draw his blade he doesn’t let the person close to him and sends a blast of spiritual energy at them. The person lets out a garbled noise, hurtling backwards and landing in the street on their back. Vibrant read limbs are visible as the cloak falls away.

“Senior Shen!” Shen Qingqiu hears from down the street, and he looks up to spot a familiar young man in white and gold robes. Gongyi Xiao walks toward him quickly, “It didn’t touch you did it?”

“No, this master knew to keep his distance,” Shen Qingqiu says, calmly. “Is there a retinue from Huan Hua Palace being led by Gongyi Xiao here too?”

Gongyi Xiao gives him a strained smile at that, “That… not led by me, but yes.”

Not led by Gongyi Xiao? Shen Qingqiu regards the young man with quiet confusion. Before Luo Binghe starts to take over Huan Hua Palace, Gongyi Xiao should be unchallenged in his position. Indeed, he’s an outstanding young man in every contest that doesn’t involve the protagonist! Just who could be leading a mission that Gongyi Xiao is instead doing gruntwork on?

“Shizun?”

That voice—achingly familiar, even though it is lower and smoother than it was when Shen Qingqiu last heard it—is impossible to forget. Shen Qingqiu lifts his head and finds himself staring in the direction of several Huan Hua cultivators—and in the middle of them stands Luo Binghe. 

He’s early, Shen Qingqiu  thinks with surprise. Because he is —Shen Qingqiu is meant to have two more years. The mushroom body isn’t anywhere near ready yet! He isn’t ready yet! In fact, it takes everything in Shen Qingqiu to not turn around and run in the opposite direction like a bat out of hell!

【 System connection successful! Updates successful! Welcome back User! 】

Not you too! Shen Qingqiu thinks with despair.

“It is Shizun,” Luo Binghe says, stepping closer. How can an open street feel so claustrophobic. Shen Qingqiu wants to reflexively step backward, but Gongyi Xiao has somehow ended up behind him. Wait—had Shen Qingqiu taken a step toward Luo Binghe earlier? Does he want to die!?

“Luo Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says, and it’s only by the grace of his consistent poser act that his voice is as calm and cool as it sounds. Luo Binghe stops walking forward, as if he’s been unconscious of the movement. He’s far closer than Shen Qingqiu would like him to be though—especially considering the warm look in his eyes!

Doesn’t that just mean he’s more likely to die!?

Shen Qingqiu lifts his hand to hide his face behind his fan, and it’s then that the ring on his finger suddenly flares with unmistakable warmth. Uncomfortably so—Shen Qingqiu can’t quite keep himself from flinching and Luo Binghe’s sharp eyes catch it immediately. He steps forward, and Shen Qingqiu realizes that—to his mortification—his fucking knees have buckled on him! 

Luo Binghe catches him, and his hands are warm on Shen Qingqiu’s arm. Even through his robes he can feel it—and fuck, wait. He’s the one the ring bonded him to?! Luo Binghe!? He’s fucked! 

“Shizun is unwell?” Luo Binghe asks, his brows are furrowing over a concerned expression. Shen Qingqiu wonders if he’s excited that his old master is suffering—he’s a fantastic actor so it’s not like Shen Qingqiu can really read what he’s thinking.

“It’s nothing, just an artifact that this master stumbled on,” Shen Qingqiu manages to get his feet under him, but Luo Binghe’s hand is clamped tightly around his upper arm. He doesn’t seem to be willing to let him go. Fuck! Shen Qingqiu tries to subtly pull out of Luo Binghe’s grip but doesn’t quite succeed.

“Is that all you have to say to him!? How dare you!” One of the Huan Hua disciples shouts. Shen Qingqiu narrows his eyes as she continues, “You treated Luo-shixiong so terribly, and when you meet him you just act like everything is okay!?”

Shen Qingqiu can’t help but feel a little incensed—barring the Abyss, Shen Qingqiu treated Luo Binghe very well. Okay, well this Shen Qingqiu treated him well at least! He narrows his eyes and finds himself glancing up at Luo Binghe’s face to try and get a read on him. What he finds is that Luo Binghe is watching his face closely. The two of them catch eyes for a moment, and Shen Qingqiu feels a sudden burst of embarrassment that he can’t place. He quickly looks away, and gently tries to pull his arm away again.

“Ah, Bing—Luo Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says, ignoring the disciples that are muttering aggressively about how terrible he is. “Could we perhaps have the body of this sower? Mu Qingfang-shidi is working on a cure to the plague.”

“Of course,” Luo Binghe says immediately.

Shen Qingqiu glances at him. How the fuck is he going to do this? The last time he saw Luo Binghe he shoved him into literal hell. Now he has to work up the face to not only hope he doesn’t just let him die but also to ask for his help?

“This master… would also like to speak with you alone,” Shen Qingqiu says slowly. Luo Binghe’s eyes brighten—is he excited at the prospect of getting his claws into Shen Qingqiu so easily? Shen Qingqiu tries to push his anxiety down, but it is awfully stubborn. “When you have a moment to—”

“Gongyi-shixiong, please take care of the rest of these matters,” Luo Binghe says. Gongyi Xiao only nods his head, looking a cross between relieved and curious. Luo Binghe lets go of Shen Qingqiu’s arm, but he begins to walk down the street immediately after. Shen Qingqiu is made to follow after him, lifting his fan up to try and save some of his face.

“...Binghe…” Shen Qingqiu says, he’s not sure how to phrase what he needs to phrase. Should he try to apologize first? Will that even matter? He is terrible at these sorts of things. Shen Qingqiu would rather avoid most sticky heart-to-heart conversations at the best of times, he wants to do that even more when said heart-to-heart is with the disciple that is going to tear his limbs to pieces. “...seems to be settling well with Huan Hua Palace. Does his new master treat him well?”

He surprises himself with the bitter note in his voice. What the fuck is his problem?! This is just part of the plot!

“This disciple only has one shizun,” Luo Binghe says, his smile is a little bitter though. His eyes a little colder. Dammit, Shen Qingqiu should have kept his mouth shut. He is grateful for the fan, “Shizun wanted to speak with this disciple about Huan Hua Palace?”

The question is barbed. Shen Qingqiu knows what he should be talking about. He can’t meet Luo Binghe’s eyes as he looks over his shoulder instead with a barely withheld sigh, “This master has a request of Luo Binghe, if he is willing to listen to it.”

Luo Binghe laughs then—it is softer than Shen Qingqiu expects it to be, despite the bitterness laced in it. The young man’s smile is a little wry as he meets Shen Qingqiu’s eyes, “This disciple is willing.”

“This master… has come upon a minor cursed artifact,” Shen Qingqiu says slowly. No need to let Luo Binghe know that the curse is actually going to kill him! Especially no need to let him know that Luo Binghe will be directly able to impact whether said curse kills him! Even saying that though, the little half-truth that it is, makes the ring on his finger tighten painfully. He ignores it, that part isn’t so bad yet. “It requires this one to track down the caster of the curse and dispatch of him.”

“Oh?” Luo Binghe says, tilting his head to one side. “And Shizun wants this disciple to help him do this?”

No he does not! Luo Binghe this is beneath you and this master knows it, but he is backed into a corner and has no fucking choice! “If it is of too much trouble to Luo Binghe this master can do it on his own.”

“The curse involves me, doesn’t it?” Luo Binghe asks—how the fuck!? The Protagonist IQ levels are too powerful! How the hell did he pick that up just by—okay fair. Maybe it would be unusual for the mentor who threw you away to suddenly ask to go on a mission with you. Without apologizing for throwing you away. He swallows around that but Luo Binghe’s eyes are intense as he looks down at Shen Qingqiu.

Wait—down!? DOWN?? Since when was he taller than him? Shen Qingqiu isn’t even a short man, but he does have to tilt his head to look up at Luo Binghe now!? This is no fair! He’s already at a disadvantage to the man!

“This disciple will help Shizun,” Luo Binghe says finally, with a smile that makes the hair along the back of Shen Qingqiu’s neck lift. “But this disciple would like something in return—would Shizun be willing to grant that?”

“What would Binghe like?” Shen Qingqiu says, and Luo Binghe’s smile gets a little sharper.

“Shizun can find out after we’ve dealt with the artifact,” Luo Binghe says. The hell!? Like that kind of deal is one anyone should take! Shen Qingqiu narrows his eyes, but Luo Binghe’s expression is still smug. Certain. “Otherwise, this disciple will be unable to lend his aid.”

“...fine,” Shen Qingqiu says, and Luo Binghe’s eyes light up. “This master will give Luo Binghe whatever it is he desires after he assists with the artifact.”

It’s not like he has much choice—and maybe he can get back into Luo Binghe’s good graces? At least enough not to be turned into a human stick? Aw who is he kidding, he’s so screwed.

Chapter Text

【 LUO BINGHE 】

In all honesty, Luo Binghe had imagined running into Shizun in a million different ways. Down in the Abyss it had been both a source of comfort and torture—an imagined scenario that he had chased in circles like a dog. Never reaching it but driven into a frenzy at its mere existence, unwilling to let it go.

In a lot of ways, Luo Binghe is still like that dog.

Yet the moment he has found his Shizun has, in reality, a touch of mundanity to it that is almost anti-climatic. It is awkward. It lacks the amount of tears that Luo Binghe expected it would. But he is nevertheless eager for every second of it. His eyes struggle to stray away from Shen Qingqiu, as if looking away will make him disappear into nothing.

Luo Binghe had a plan—has one still, technically. The plan used to be to rise in the ranks at Huan Hua, to prove to Shen Qingqiu that he is able to be a good and righteous cultivator. To prove that he is not to be thrown away. And then, they would be back together again.

This is still the plan, technically. But this is an opportunity to prove to Shen Qingqiu that he can be trusted with something personal as well. Something that Shen Qinqiu sought him out for. He tries not to get his hopes up over that— It is a trap. He will finish the job. He must be cut down. Xin Mo hisses in the back of his mind and Luo Binghe shuts it out with barely a pause—but he can’t quite help it. It is perfect.

So why then, was Luo Binghe so unfilial as to ask for something in return?

It doesn’t matter, Luo Binghe thinks to himself, mentally gnawing on the promise Shen Qingqiu gave him like a dog on a bone. What matters now is that I’m here with Shizun, and I can’t let this chance slip through my fingers.

“Does Binghe need to finish his mission?” Shizun asks him, his eyes meeting Luo Binghe’s for a brief moment before flitting away. He has not looked Luo Binghe in the eye properly since they have met. Has avoided his gaze like it burns him. Luo Binghe can’t decide if he mourns that fact, or if it gives him a small amount of satisfaction. Is it guilt? 

“This disciple can leave it in the hands of his Huan Hua hosts,” Luo Binghe says simply. He resists the urge to grab his shizun by the chin, to force him to look Luo Binghe head on. He keeps his hands to himself, “He is not a disciple of Huan Hua Palace after all.”

Shen Qingqiu has no answer to that. Only gives him a sharp glance, as if he is about to reprimand Luo Binghe for something. Luo Binghe perks up despite himself as his shizun says, “You should fulfill your responsibilities, especially the ones that you gave your word to do.”

“If Shizun wishes,” Luo Binghe responds, delighted at the scolding. Scolding means that Shen Qingqiu feels he has a place to do so. Which means that, in some way, surely he still thinks of Luo Binghe as his disciple still.

“This master will accompany you,” Shen Qingqiu says eventually.

That surprises him. Luo Binghe has half-expected Shen Qingqiu to flee from the moment they ran into one another. The set to his shizun’s shoulders, the way his mouth is tilted in a slight frown, it is hard to ignore that Shen Qingqiu seems to be looking for an escape. Yet here he is, joining Luo Binghe for this Night Hunt.

Joy—foolish and heady—sweeps through Luo Binghe’s chest despite himself.

“This disciple would like that,” Luo Binghe says, and he means it. The idea of spending any time at all with Shen Qingqiu is something that Luo Binghe covets. He won’t even pretend that he doesn’t want it, it isn’t worth it. 

“Then tell this master what Binghe has discovered thus far,” Shen Qingqiu says. The tone of voice he has, the way he carries himself, gives Luo Binghe a jolt of nostalgia so fierce that his throat feels tight for a moment.

Without hesitation, Luo Binghe divulges the information he has gathered with the Huan Hua disciples. As he talks he skirts around the method he used to track down the sower from earlier. The truth of the matter being, of course, that he used demonic qi to do so. He doesn’t dare mention it to Shen Qingqiu, afraid of shattering the illusion that the two of them are simply master and disciple on a Night Hunt together. 

If you don’t see this for how suspicious it really is, you are more hopeless than I thought, Meng Mo’s dry tone rings through Luo Binghe’s head. Luo Binghe chooses not to dignify that with a direct response. He isn’t a fool—he knows that his shizun must still hate him. Why else did he throw him in the Abyss?

Though, maybe he regrets it?

Later. Luo Binghe will address that hope when he has the luxury to do so. For now, he will take this opportunity that Shizun has given him and hold onto it with both hands. He won’t let it go for anything in the world.

────── 〔❅〕──────

Even as night falls, Shen Qingqiu does not take his leave. Instead, he sticks close to Luo Binghe as the two of them move through the quiet city streets. Jin Lan is eerie in the dark, the effects of the plague keeping all those who would dare to stick their noses out of their doors hidden away. Luo Binghe is loath to focus on anything that isn’t Shizun at the moment, but he doesn’t wish to disappoint them. Not on this first step to repairing his image. So dutifully he keeps his focus in tracking down the sowers.

The whole time, Shen Qingqiu is quiet. No light teasing or praises, only a grim set to his mouth and a tense line of his body. It is a painful reminder to Luo Binghe that he is not truly trusted, that Shen Qingqiu has sought his aid because needs must.

Exactly what those needs are, Luo Binghe still does not know. He gets the sense that Shen Qingqiu has not told him everything about the ring. There are pieces to the puzzle of him that are ill-fitting, after all.

Like the drawn, exhausted look on his face. He looks as if he has not slept well in some time—and he’s thinner too. Luo Binghe had noticed when he grabbed Shen Qingqiu’s arm that he seemed to be, but it’s a certainty now. It is not a simple thing for a cultivator to lose much weight. Especially one who can practice inedia—though Luo Binghe knows that Shen Qingqiu does not practice it himself. His Shizun is too fond of good food and with Without-a-Cure he shouldn’t be attempting inedia in any case. Is the frailty a part of the curse as well?

He certainly hasn’t told Luo Binghe every aspect of it.

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe says, breaking the quiet. Shen Qingqiu tenses, and Luo Binghe tries to convey his genuine concern for his master. “Are you well?”

“...what?” Shen Qingqiu asks, seemingly thrown by the question.

“This disciple is wondering if Shizun has been feeling ill lately,” Luo Binghe says. “Maybe due to—”

Before he can continue there is a man that is stumbling towards the two of them in the dark. Luo Binghe catches the man by the shoulder before he can fall into Shen Qingqiu, causing the stranger to make a surprised squawking noise. Luo Binghe’s hand clamps down hard on that shoulder, and he steps between him and Shen Qingqiu.

“Ah—let me go!” The stranger cries, and Luo Binghe catches a glimpse of scarlet skin right as the sower wraps his red hands around Luo Binghe’s wrist. As expected. Even so, he can’t help the blinding anger that sweeps through him that this wretched thing would think to try and infect Luo Binghe’s shizun. Xin Mo is out of his sheathe before he finishes thinking, the blade feeding into his irritation. “N-no! You’re—!”

“If you do not want to die this moment,” Luo Binghe snarls, “You will only answer questions asked. Otherwise, keep your mouth shut.”

The sower’s mouth clicks shut.

“Good. The nest, where is it?” Luo Binghe asks, his tone absolutely frigid. The sower swallows audibly, glancing over Luo Binghe’s shoulder to where Shen Qingqiu undoubtedly still stands. Luo Binghe feels an ugly possessiveness at this, he can’t help the added, “Keep your eyes off of him.”

“S-sorry, the… the nest,” the sower stammers out. “I can show you. Please, my Lord, just don’t kill me.”

Luo Binghe presses forward with Xin Mo so that the blade lies against the sower’s throat. The demon freezes completely—even a low born demon like this sower must sense the power of the blade. The hunger that Xin Mo possesses. The sower doesn’t dare even to breathe for a few moments. 

“Tell me where,” Luo Binghe snarls, tilting the blade forward just enough to cause the edge to pierce that scarlet skin. A drop of blood traces down the edge of Xin Mo, and he can feel the blade’s want like a second skin. It itches at the back of his mind. Begs him to plunge that blade into the demon’s belly. To twist and slice and watch bleed slowly into the street.

Savour it, Xin Mo whispers in the depths of Luo Binghe’s mind. Bleed it dry.

“The, the—my Lord, you will find our nest in an abandoned inn called the Tree Palace,” the sower squeaks out. “There are eight of us total. Please, please my Lord, if you could—”

The demon’s words are cut off when Luo Binghe takes binding cables and winds them around its wrists. It stares, dumbfounded, as Luo Binghe neatly ties it up and slaps a transportation talisman on the sower’s chest. With a crackle of energy it vanishes, leaving Luo Binghe standing in the street for a few moments.

He struggles with Xin Mo’s fury for a moment. The blade reacts like a wild animal teased with the promise of prey. Still, after tightening his grip on the hilt for a moment, Luo Binghe manages to sheathe it. He exhales slowly, and turns to find his shizun watching him keenly. Anxiety sparks through Luo Binghe. The demon had called him Lord—he may have to lie to Shen Qingqiu to convince him he has nothing to do with the demon realm at this time. And the way he acted, wouldn’t Shen Qingqiu think him monstrous?

“Luo Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu’s tone is hard to read. Luo Binghe tries very hard not to spiral over it. His shizun reaches forward, and grabs Luo Binghe’s hand to pull him over. Luo Binghe’s brain screeches to a surprised halt. Of all the things he imagined Shen Qingqiu doing, it was not this. “You let it touch you.”

Shen Qingqiu sounds truly scolding now. Luo Binghe blinks and looks to his wrist where several red splotches are already starting to appear. For a moment, Luo Binghe debates leaving them there. Basking as he is in Shen Qingqiu’s… concern.

It is concern, right? The man’s brow is furrowed as he mutters to himself, barely audible, “We’ll have to make sure Mu Qingfang knows so that—”

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe says, and he can’t help the fondness in his heart. The hope . It almost undercuts the sick feeling of nerves that what he is about to say next, “This one does not have to worry about the sower’s infection.”

As he speaks, he focuses on healing the damage. It clears up slowly, leaving his skin pristine. Shen Qingqiu stares for a moment, before turning Luo Binghe’s wrist over as if to check if there is any left. Then, without meeting Luo Binghe’s eyes, he drops his hand. Luo Binghe feels the absence keenly.

“Of course,” Shen Qingqiu says, flicking open his fan and bringing it up so that it obscures most of his face.

“Was Shizun worried about this disciple?” Luo Binghe asks.

He doesn’t expect an answer at all. Truly, his shizun has never been so open with his affections in terms of words. He is a man whose attention Luo Binghe has coveted since he was young—a man who shows his love in his actions more than words. Shen Qingqiu’s fingers holding his fan twitch, just the slightest bit. A slight flinch.

“I was. I was worried,” Shen Qingqiu says, the words sound slightly strained. “I forgot, that it couldn’t…”

Luo Binghe’s eyes meet Shen Qingqiu’s, and he knows he does a poor job of concealing his surprise. Shen Qingqiu’s face seems to darken, he brushes past Luo Binghe so quickly that Luo Binghe has to keep himself from being knocked over. He stares after his shizun, before he snaps himself out of it and follows him quickly.

────── 〔❅〕──────

It is not actually terribly late by the time they gather up the sowers left in the nest. Counting the one that Luo Binghe caught in the street, five total are captured and sent off with the transportation talismans that he was given by Huan Hua. He will admit that, even if the place is nothing compared to Qing Jing, it is not at all lacking in terms of spiritual devices to use. Shen Qingqiu did not even need to be here, truly—not that Luo Binghe is going to complain about the chance to show him that he still can be a good cultivator.

“There,” Luo Binghe says. “The other two must be out in the streets.”

“Mn, we should round them up as well,” Shen Qingqiu says. Luo Binghe can’t help but notice that his master looks tired though—Shen Qingqiu also moves a little stiffly. As if he is feeling sluggish or pained. Slower than usual.

Luo Binghe reaches over and gently takes Shen Qingqiu’s wrist. His shizun tenses up immediately, but he doesn’t pull his arm out of Luo Binghe’s grip. Instead he freezes, like a rabbit that has found itself in the jaws of a wolf—helpless to do anything but hope that his existence is somehow forgotten.

Luo Binghe must truly be beastly, because he does badly want to bite him suddenly.

Instead, Luo Binghe lowers his lashes and sends a gentle stream of qi through Shen Qingqiu’s meridians. He feels the snags and clogs immediately, “Shizun’s Without-a-Cure is bothering him.”

“Bothering is hardly the right word for it,” Shen Qingqiu says, and at this point he does pull his arm away. The words are offhanded, “This master is used to it by now. It has cropped up tonight though, yes. It wouldn’t hurt to find Liu-shidi…”

Luo Binghe hates that immediately.

“This disciple had been speaking with Mu Qingfang-shishu before the Conference,” Luo Binghe says instead. He watches Shen Qingqiu hold his breath for a moment but does not acknowledge it. “He knows how to clear Shizun’s meridians. We could head in for the night. This disciple will brew Shizun’s medicine and help.”

“We--Binghe, you still have more sowers to gather up,” Shen Qingqiu says.

“Liu Qingge is also looking for them tonight, surely he can manage two,” Luo Binghe says off-handedly.

“Liu- shishu ,” Shen Qingqiu corrects.

Luo Binghe feels warmth in his chest at that. He locks eyes with Shen Qingqiu, who seems to realize what he has just said. He opens his mouth to say something more, but seems unsure of what he should say. Luo Binghe doesn’t want to let him stew in it too long. He will cherish every moment that Shen Qingqiu lets him believe he is still his disciple.

“Shizun, let’s go,” Luo Binghe says. “This Binghe would like to eat something before sleeping as well.”

That, it seems, is enough to finally get Shen Qingqiu to cave. Whether it’s the mention of food itself or of Luo Binghe needing it, Luo Binghe isn’t sure. He pretends it’s a little bit of both, and sticks close to Shen Qingqiu’s side as the two of them walk through the streets. Without really deciding out loud, Shen Qingqiu takes the lead and leads Luo Binghe to a weapon’s shop. Luo Binghe can hear the wailing of men from the basement, and he raises a quizzical eyebrow to his shizun.

“Mu-shidi must have found some unwilling volunteers,” Shen Qingqiu says in the tone of someone who doesn’t know whether he should be amused or not. “Apologies to Binghe, it may be a little loud here tonight.”

“This disciple will be staying with Shizun?” Luo Binghe asks, surprised despite himself. His mentor has wanted him to stick with him since his request, but to stay the night? He feels giddy suddenly.

“This master apologizes if that causes inconvenience,” Shen Qingqiu says slowly. Luo Binghe shakes his head, truly he is overjoyed. This is far more than he expected, especially tonight. He dutifully follows Shen Qingqiu to two double doors, which Shen Qingqiu opens into a simple dusty room with a low table and two beds. Shen Qingqiu half murmurs to himself, “Liu-shidi can find somewhere else to sleep tonight.”

Liu Qingge being kicked out by Luo Binghe makes Luo Binghe’s mood far better than it already was. He flashes his shizun a bright smile as if he has been offered a sweet treat. It is more than a little satisfying that the other man will be nowhere near the two of them tonight. He won’t have to worry about chasing him away from his shizun for now. He has enough on his plate, after all.

“This disciple will go brew your tea,” Luo Binghe says, and Shen Qingqiu hesitates but offers him the medicinal herbs after a moment. Luo Binghe feels so happy that he can’t help but beam at his shizun. He has to be doing this correctly, if Shen Qingqiu is willing to let him do this. “This Binghe will be back.”

Before Shen Qingqiu can protest, Luo Binghe makes his way through the building. The glowing feeling in his chest nurtures the hope he felt from earlier—it feels like a growing flame building in him. He knows that Shen Qingqiu can be hard to read. He knows this, but he can’t help but think that… that it doesn’t seem like Shen Qingqiu truly hates him.

Kid, he threw you into the Endless Abyss, Meng Mo points out. As if he needs the reminder. The nagging dream demon makes Luo Binghe snort, souring his mood as he sets the kettle on and begins to look through the pantry for something he might be able to cook for the two of them. Some snow-white congee, perhaps. You’re going to end up getting kicked while you’re down at this point. Didn’t you hear him? He needs you because of this curse.

You’re being more meddlesome than usual, Luo Binghe thinks, and though he keeps his mental tone light he knows that the dream demon must be properly intimidated. Still, Meng Mo seems less afraid and more annoyed.

Fine! Just don’t come crying to this senior, Meng Mo huffs at him.

Luo Binghe considers, as he cooks. After a moment he tentatively says, Meng Mo, will you look at that ring while we’re in there again? I want to know if you’ve heard of this curse as well. Shizun isn’t telling me the details of it.

Of course he isn’t! He knows you’re a demon, remember? Meng Mo points out. Luo Binghe feels his mood darken further. It isn’t that he’s a demon that is the problem—it’s the kind of demon that he is. He slows his motions as he’s cooking, his mouth turning down into a frown.

What is it that is going on with Shen Qingqiu to make him overlook what he has discovered?

It is harder to hope that he is convincing his shizun that he is still righteous, not when he’s not in the room with Shen Qingqiu anymore. Still, Luo Binghe shoves the thoughts to the back of his mind. He’ll approach that later. If Shen Qingqiu isn’t convinced yet, he’ll just work on continuing to try to do that.

The meal is finished shortly and the tea is brewed—Luo Binghe pauses as he is gathering the ingredients together. He could put a little of his blood into the medicinal tea. It would help him to get a better read on his shizun’s physical state, he could also heal him. 

He would also be able to find him if he tried to run away.

Luo Binghe knows it is selfish, the thought of doing this. It is not a filial thought in the slightest. It is certainly not a righteous thought. But Luo Binghe’s insides twist with worry. He thinks about how Shen Qingqiu has seemed ready to hare away at any moment. He thinks about how his shizun hasn’t truly given details on the curse plaguing him.

He thinks of him not mentioning the flare up of Without-a-Cure.

Decision made, Luo Binghe reaches over to a knife and swipes his thumb over the blade. It stings, and he moves his hand toward the tea and… 

Luo Binghe takes a shuddering breath before forcing the wound to heal. He wipes the blood from his thumb onto a nearby towel and doesn’t drip it into the cup. Shen Qingqiu is showing him trust by letting him do this for him. Luo Binghe—he… he can’t. Right?

If he needs to feed him blood he can do it later. If it comes down to it, he can find any number of ways to have him drink it.

Luo Binghe manages to calm himself before he gathers the tray of food up and carries it to the room. Shen Qingqiu jumps when Luo Binghe enters again—he is dressed down for sleep in a manner that makes Luo Binghe’s steps falter. His heart leaps in his chest despite himself.

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe says softly, feeling suddenly a little shy. He feels ashamed for what he almost did, he feels relieved that he did not do it after all. “This disciple made something for you to eat.”

Shen Qingqiu is, as always, beautiful—but dressed down as he is, his frailty is more obvious than before. Luo Binghe can’t help the worry that worms into his heart, for this man who threw him away into hell. Shen Qingqiu never got to answer the question that Luo Binghe had tried to ask before.

“Thank you Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says. He accepts a poured cup of tea and drinks it with a blank expression. Luo Binghe shyly pushes a bowl of congee forward, and Shen Qingqiu looks at it as if weighing whether to eat it or not. Eventually, he seems to give in and he pulls the bowl forward and begins to eat.

To Luo Binghe, the way that Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders relax, the soft pleased hum he seems to make without even meaning to, mean more than any treasure in the world.

Luo Binghe barely pays attention to his own meal, caught up as he is in watching Shen Qingqiu’s face. Today he seems more expressive than usual. Is it because of Luo Binghe? Or is it because of how tired he is? Shen Qingqiu looks tired. Luo Binghe wants to gently trace the circles under his eyes with his thumb. He wants to make sure that he sleeps well. Maybe he’ll grant that to his shizun tonight.

A petty part of him also wonders if he might make sleep a little more stressful instead—but no. Shen Qingqiu knows about Luo Binghe’s ties to Meng Mo after all. He’s surely connected the dots as to who trained him in demonic cultivation. Luo Binghe does not want to give his master undue reason to be angry with him.

“Shizun, this one can clear your meridians now,” Luo Binghe says when he’s sure Shen Qingqiu is finished. Shen Qingqiu blinks up at him.

“I thought you might forget,” Shen Qingqiu says with a sigh.

“You hoped I might,” Luo Binghe responds. Shen Qingqiu does not deny it, Luo Binghe doesn’t know if he should be hurt by that or not. He sits next to his shizun and gently takes his arm, and as Shen Qingqiu settles he focuses.

Gently, firmly, Luo Binghe pushes his qi through Shen Qingqiu’s meridians. This time with purpose. He’s never forgotten Mu Qingfang’s lessons in the years since he learned them. Determined as he was to keep Liu Qingge’s paws off his shizun, he couldn’t imagine it.

“Oh,” Shizun breathes, as if surprised. Luo Binghe is still focused on his task, but he feels his face warm as Shen Qingqiu lets out a pleased hum, “That feels good.”

Shen Qingqiu’s mouth audibly snaps shut after that—even out of the corner of his eye, Luo Binghe can see his master’s face getting red. Especially at the tips of his ears. Luo Binghe can’t help but smile, and he has to keep himself from laughing.

“This one is glad that Shizun thinks so,” Luo Binghe says honestly. He doesn’t hide the immense pride he feels at the compliment. “Is it better than when Liu Qingge does it?”

“Wh—Luo Binghe!” Shen Qingqiu snaps, flustered. “The way you asked that! Be careful with your words!”

Luo Binghe hums thoughtfully and very innocently responds, “What does Shizun mean?”

“You! You—!” Shen Qingqiu seems too flustered for words, “Shameless!”

Luo Binghe does laugh at that, he can’t help it. He feels the tension that he’s been carrying bleed out of his shoulders, and he suddenly is so sure that he can do this. That he can prove to Shen Qingqiu that he is still good.

“It does,” Shen Qingqiu says after Luo Binghe cycles his qi through a few more times. Luo Binghe blinks, looking up. Shen Qingqiu isn’t looking at him, his expression seems somewhat strange as he says, “Feel better when you clear my meridians, I mean. It’s warm. Like sunlight.”

Chapter Text

【 SHEN QINGQIU 】

What the fuck is wrong with him!?

Shen Qingqiu can’t believe he said something so cheesy—that Luo Binghe’s qi is like sunlight ? The worst thing is, that the ring on his finger is making his hand ache because that’s not all he wants to say about it either.

“Liu-shidi’s qi is very cold—like a stream that has snowmelt. Yours is much more pleasant, it feels gentler but stronger,” Shen Qingqiu says. Luo Binghe is staring at him with open surprise and Shen Qingqiu uses his free hand to snap open a fan, “So really it is more pleasant. Feels like…”

Shen Qingqiu meets Luo Binghe’s eyes and snaps his mouth shut. Does he want Luo Binghe to tear his limbs to pieces!? 

“Feels like?” Luo Binghe prompts, his voice is soft—there is something almost fragile in his tone. Shen Qingqiu must be imagining it, or Luo Binghe is putting on an act for him. Even so, the prompt is enough.

“Home,” Shen Qingqiu says. His ears feel like they are on fire. He looks away, “It feels like home.”

Luo Binghe inhales a little shakily, and Shen Qingqiu has to repress the urge to look at him. If he looks at him he’ll really combust! He’ll just burst into flame! Forget about the curse that saps his heat, he’s going to burn himself into ashes just from the humiliation alone!

The two of them lapse into a silence that is not quite comfortable after this, and Shen Qingqiu can’t help but relax as his meridians are cycled through. He feels a bit like a cat basking in the sun. He knows he should be on guard, Luo Binghe can decide to turn against him at any moment—probably whenever he decides that this isn’t entertaining enough anymore—but he can’t help himself.

Shen Qingqiu realizes he’s closed his eyes when Luo Binghe finally lets go of his wrist. Opening them feels like a monumental task, but he manages to do so and finds that Luo Binghe is watching him with a complicated expression. Shen Qingqiu rouses himself, clearing his throat and reaching out to pat Luo Binghe on the head.

“Thanking Binghe for his care,” Shen Qingqiu says, before realizing what he’s just done. He freezes and pulls his hand back, but Luo Binghe’s eyes seem a little brighter than a moment before.

“Of course, it is this disciple’s pleasure to look after his master,” Luo Binghe says softly. Shen Qingqiu can’t explain why, but that flusters him to no end. He reminds himself, fiercely, that Luo Binghe is an extremely good actor. That Luo Binghe acts sweetest when he has the worst on his mind.

“This…” Shen Qingqiu swallows what he was going to say with a feeling of horror—he can’t say that to Luo Binghe. If he mentions too much about what he knows it will inevitably lead to questions about how he knows it. Which, of course, is that he read the fucking book that he now lives in!

【 WARNING! User may not tell others about the System or his status as transmigrator in this universe!】

I figured as much! Shen Qingqiu thinks furiously at the System. It’s not my fault I’m cursed!

“Shizun?” Luo Binghe asks, and Shen Qingqiu’s ring hurts so badly that he clenches his fist. This is hell! It’s one thing to be unable to lie, it is quite another thing entirely to want to speak every truthful thought that flits through his head. Especially the active secrets!

“It would be best to go to bed,” Shen Qingqiu forces out through grit teeth. Luo Binghe’s expression shutters immediately, and Shen Qingqiu wonders what he’s done to offend his former disciple. Even so, he doesn’t bring himself to ask, instead he hurries to the bed and feels his hand slowly unclench as the urge to talk about the System passes.

This is going to be hell.

Luo Binghe puts out the light, plunging the small room they are sharing into darkness. Shen Qingqiu stiffly gets onto the old bed, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. Without Luo Binghe right next to him, he feels a faint chill but it isn’t unbearable. Like sleeping in a house with the AC on but not putting the covers on.

No, the most uncomfortable part would be the fact that Luo Binghe is in this room with him!

The quiet that stretches between them feels awkward—worse than awkward! There is a tension in the room and Shen Qingqiu can’t tell if it’s just him or not. Without something to distract the two of them, the quiet leaves space for the questions that Luo Binghe must want to ask.

Yet his disciple doesn’t ask them. He hears Luo Binghe turning over in his bed, and he is keenly aware of the man’s presence, but he says nothing in the darkness between them. Shen Qingqiu is left to chase his thoughts like a dog chases its tail—endless spirals that make his heart race uncomfortably. He keeps expecting Luo Binghe to tire of this. To finally enact the justice he so rightfully deserves against his master.

It really is a wonder at all, that Shen Qingqiu manages to drift into sleep.

────── 〔❅〕──────

When Shen Qingqiu wakes the next morning he has phantom aches in all of his limbs and feels more exhausted than he did the night before. Of course he had horrible nightmares all night long! He doesn’t think Luo Binghe was in his brain, just that his own anxieties had done it. Naturally it would have been much worse if the protagonist had been the one cooking everything up!

It isn’t the nightmare that woke him though, but the cold . Shen Qingqiu comes to feeling stiff and uncomfortable. He tries to burrow into his blankets but finds that it doesn’t do a thing to help at all. It isn’t terrible, but it is uncomfortable. He cracks his eyes open to see the dawn light filtering into the room and the bed across from him empty.

Ah, so he’s left, Shen Qingqiu thought. Truly, all Luo Binghe had to do was leave and Shen Qingqiu would freeze to death. Granted, Binghe doesn’t know that. Because Shen Qingqiu had kept it to himself. Even so. Perhaps his former disciple figured as much out. He’d always been clever.

Shen Qingqiu sits up slowly, feeling stiff and painful. It doesn’t quite explain the hollow feeling in his chest, the sensation of hurt—maybe that’s just part of the curse too. He exhales slowly, and tries to think of what it is that he’s going to do now.

The door opening startles him, and Luo Binghe steps into the room with a tray of food. With him comes a sense of more warmth, though the cold isn’t completely swept away. Before he can shut his mouth, Shen Qingqiu says softly, “This master thought Binghe had left.”

Luo Binghe blinks, setting the tray of food onto the nearby table.

“This disciple agreed to work with Shizun,” Luo Binghe says. “Does he think so little of this disciple that he expects him to go back on his word?”

“I don’t—this master doesn’t think little of you,” Shen Qingqiu says, having to correct the formality. Is this stupid curse going to kill his poser act too!? Is nothing sacred !? “Thank you Binghe.”

Whether for staying or for the food, he doesn’t clarify. Maybe it’s both—he thinks it might be both. He gets up and sits at the table as Luo Binghe serves him, taking his chopsticks in hand and the tea that Luo Binghe pours out after that. He sips the mild drink with a soft sigh.

“Apologies Shizun, this disciple couldn’t find your favorite blend,” Luo Binghe says as he then serves himself.

“Ah, Binghe need not trouble himself,” Shen Qingqiu says softly.

They lapse into quiet again, Shen Qingqiu is blessedly distracted by Luo Binghe’s breakfast. Sure, there’s the chance that it's spiked with Heavenly Demon Blood, but he figures that he’s going to be around Luo Binghe quite a bit going forward. There’s not much point fretting about it when he can dose him with the stuff at any moment he lets his guard down, and he missed his disciple’s food.

He can’t help his pleased hum as he takes a bite, and notices Luo Binghe perks up. Ah, just like when they lived in the Bamboo House! Shen Qingqiu can’t help the nostalgic feeling in his chest as he says, “The meal is good as always, Binghe.”

The smile Luo Binghe gives him is one that he can pretend is genuine. It’s so bright that he can’t bring himself to look directly at it. Really, if anything the halo has only gotten better as Luo Binghe has grown up. That makes sense, he supposes.

Shen Qingqiu allows himself to give his disciple an appraising look. Really he’s improved in general with age. Luo Binghe has gotten taller as he’s matured, his shoulders broad despite his slim waist. In his human disguise his dark eyes seem to hold fathoms in them, Shen Qingqiu can understand why so many of the wives got lost in them! He can understand a lot of things regarding the wives actually—Luo Binghe is beautiful. Breathtakingly so.

“Is Shizun expecting to see something?” Luo Binghe asks, his gaze intense as he meets Shen Qingqiu’s eyes. “This disciple has gotten good at hiding his heritage.”

Shen Qingqiu feels like he’s been slapped—he wasn’t thinking that protagonist! Well, if Shen Qingqiu is looking for a trace of Luo Binghe’s demonic features it is purely to admire! “This master just thinks Luo Binghe looks—”

The door slams open and the two of them look to see Yang Yixuan standing in the door, “They figured out the cure to the plague! The gates are open, the city is saved!”

Luo Binghe gathers the dishes and Shen Qingqiu moves to the privacy screen to dress himself. As he’s behind it he hears Luo Binghe asks, “This disciple is going to go on ahead Shizun. He has matters to discuss with his hosts at Huan Hua.”

“Of course,” Shen Qingqiu responds, before realizing that he needs to be keeping Luo Binghe close. Luo Binghe’s footsteps retreat, leaving Shen Qingqiu to feel the heat slowly seep away from him. He sighs heavily, and hurries to dress himself.

────── 〔❅〕──────

Shen Qingqiu regrets sending Luo Binghe ahead of him. He should have called out for his disciple—Binghe’s cultivation is high enough that he is sure he would have heard. Not necessarily sure he would have listened. Regardless, he’s miserable as he makes his way to the gates. His skin has broken out in goosebumps, and his fingers feel uncomfortable and stiff. He flexes them with a slight frown. The cold he expected, the stiffness not so much.

“Shen Qingqiu!” Liu Qingge’s voice startles him from his thoughts, and he looks up to see his shidi walking toward him. “Come with me!”

“Er—to where?” Shen Qingqiu says, really Liu Qingge! He knows that you’re a man of action and little words, but he needs to know what is going on before being whisked off somewhere!

“The sect,” Liu Qingge says seriously, snagging Shen Qingqiu’s hand. His brow furrows and he says, “Your hand is so cold…”

“It is—I need to go find Luo Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu explains. “I can’t go anywhere without him.”

“You—your disciple?” Liu Qingge says, furrowing his brows at him. “So it was him earlier. What is up with him? Why was he working with Huan Hua Palace?”

“What do you mean ‘what is up with him’? And he said that he was repaying them for a favor when speaking to me earlier,” Shen Qingqiu says.

“I mean he caught five sowers. I caught two,” Liu Qingge’s expression is tight.

“Oh—he’s just extremely skilled,” Shen Qingqiu says simply, before he can stop himself he continues. “The most skilled really, apologies shidi there isn’t any hope to compete with him. Nobody can beat Luo Binghe.”

Despite saying the words because he literally can’t stop himself from doing so, the pride in his tone is still obvious. Liu Qingge glowers at him, clearly unimpressed with the praise for Luo Binghe. 

“Shizun still speaks so highly of this disciple,” Luo Binghe says, making Shen Qingqiu jump and Liu Qingge look up and narrow his eyes. Luo Binghe steps over to Shen Qingqiu’s side, “Shizun, we need to leave. Huan Hua Palace means to take you to the Water Prison.”

“Wh—why!?” Shen Qingqiu says, “Or… has my reputation smearing begun?”

“You expected someone to smear your reputation?” Liu Qingge asks sternly. “Just who have you made enemies with, Shen Qingqiu?”

Shen Qingqiu glances at Luo Binghe, who is watching him with an expression of open worry and curiosity. But wait—if Luo Binghe is trying to tear down his reputation, then why on earth is he warning him? 

“I… actually don’t know,” Shen Qingqiu says with a sigh. “I had a feeling something of this matter would occur though. I’ve done things in my past deserving of retribution.”

At this he glances at Luo Binghe again. Luo Binghe’s eyes meet his own, and there’s an intense question there that Shen Qingqiu can’t answer.

“Regardless, I read this in—”

【 WARNING! WARNING! User must not divulge information regarding the fact that he is in the setting of a novel!】

The alarms blaring make Shen Qingqiu close his mouth and he feels the color drain from his face. He is glad for his fan, but he doesn’t quite catch his expression in time for the other two to not catch it. 

“Read this?” Liu Qingge asks in confusion.

Shen Qingqiu’s fingers twitch and he inhales sharply due to the pain that goes through his hand. A direct question is much much harder to resist than just spitting out what pops into his head then. Fantastic. Great.

“We don’t have time for this,” Luo Binghe says, “Shizun—I can take you away from here.”

Luo Binghe’s gaze is intense as he looks at him. He looks ready to pull Shen Qingqiu out of Liu Qingge’s grasp entirely. Shen Qingqiu gently pulls his hand away from his shidi’s and steps over to him.

“Hey!” Liu Qingge snaps, “Why go with him? He didn’t come back!”

“I have to go with him,” Shen Qingqiu says. “And don’t blame Binghe, it’s not his fault.”

“Shizun…” Luo Binghe breathes, the title soft in his mouth. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t know why, but it makes his heart twinge a little. Guilt? Maybe guilt. Definitely guilt right?

“He’s the one you’re bonded to through the curse.” Liu Qingge’s tone is flat and Shen Qingqiu winces. “Why wasn’t he with you? Did—are you…”

Liu Qingge’s face gets strange suddenly. First red, then pale, then dark. He looks between Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe for a long moment.

“Liu-shishu, as said we do not have much time,” Luo Binghe says, “I have the fastest way to get Shizun out of Jin Lan City.”

Liu Qingge’s face reddens again, “Fine! Go with him then!”

“Where would Shizun like to go?” Luo Binghe asks as Liu Qingge storms away. Shen Qingqiu watches him go, feeling like Liu Qingge may have connected dots that aren’t there to connect.

“Ah. An Ding Peak,” Shen Qingqiu says, then looks to Luo Binghe and winces. “If. If that’s alright with Binghe.”

“So long as this disciple is welcome there,” Luo Binghe responds to him, arching a brow.

“Of course he’s welcome,” Shen Qingqiu responds without hesitation. “He is a disciple of Cang Qiong Sect, after all..”

Luo Binghe stares at him for a moment before he pulls his sword off his back. He pauses as he unsheathes it, the dark demonic qi roiling off of it is so thick that Shen Qingqiu tastes it like ash on his tongue. He stares at it with rapt interest despite himself, and utters a soft, “So that is Xin Mo.”

Luo Binghe slashes the air and creates a portal. He gently takes Shen Qingqiu’s arm and guides him through—the sensation is fascinating. No roiling sickness or anything like that. A slight feeling like static though, the smell of brimstone, and then they’re through and surrounded by the bustling activity of An Ding Peak.

“Shizun has heard of Xin Mo?” Luo Binghe says, his tone is guarded.

“It is the way Binghe left the Abyss,” Shen Qingqiu responds, and Luo Binghe misses a step. His eyes dart up, and he stares intently at Shen Qingqiu’s face. Shen Qingqiu adds, “If Binghe would like he may speak with his shidimei and shixiongdi on Qing Jing. This master is going to go speak with someone regarding the curse for our next steps.”

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe says as Shen Qingqiu begins to walk away. “This disciple is slow, does Shizun mean to imply that this disciple is still a member of his peak?”

“Did I say otherwise?” Shen Qingqiu asks.

“You threw me in to the Abyss,” Luo Binghe responds, there’s raw confusion and pain in his tone. “If you want me then why—”

Shen Qingqiu sees a bright screen pop up in the corner of his eye. He turns on his heel and marches toward Shang Qinghua’s Leisure House, desperate to avoid saying anything. His hand is screaming at him in pain, to the point where he tightens his grip on his fan enough to cause the handle to creak dangerously. After a pause, Luo Binghe follows behind him, despite the offer from Shen Qingqiu. He seems cowed, his head bowed and expression closed off.

Shen Qingqiu slows his step despite himself.

“Don’t be sad, ah?” Shen Qingqiu can’t help but say. “This master will answer your questions better after the curse is lifted.”

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe says, his voice sounds choked. He makes an aborted motion towards him, and for a moment Shen Qingqiu thinks that he’s about to be clung to like when Luo Binghe was a sticky disciple. Shen Qingqiu knows it’s probably an act. Probably. But his heart is softened nevertheless.

“Come along Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says, and Luo Binghe follows after him like a shadow.

Chapter Text

 【 LUO BINGHE 】

Luo Binghe does not understand his shizun.

Staring at his straight-backed master, Luo Binghe follows him through An Ding Peak and tries not to feel as if his master hasn’t just pulled a rug out from under his feet. He must do a decent job of pretending, as Shen Qingqiu doesn’t make a comment about it. Even so, Luo Binghe can’t help but stare at the back of his head and try to puzzle him out.

This is the man that once beat him and then changed after a qi deviation. This is the man who treated him with kindness and warmth. This is the man who pushed him into a hell that Luo Binge had to claw his way out of, broken and bitter and more hurt than he’d ever been.

Grab him, Xin Mo hisses eagerly in his mind. Like a beast stalking in the shadows, licking its jowls and baring shining teeth. Shake the truth out of him.

Luo Binghe’s fingers burn with the urge and he clenches his fists and pushes the sword’s influence away irritably. The feral urge to hold onto the slender man in front of him doesn’t vanish with it though. It’s hooked deep into Luo Binghe, a thorn in his soul, and he wonders if that is born of Xin Mo or himself. It’s hard to tell, sometimes. The lines blurred when it comes to how angry, hurt and wanting Luo Binghe can be.

Don’t be sad, ah? Shen Qingqiu had said to him, as if a literal Abyss of blood did not stand between who they were and are now. Luo Binghe never expected to breathe this mountain air, and Shen Qingqiu acts as if this is nothing strange at all. Part of Luo Binghe wants, desperately, to lean into his master’s behavior. The other part is wounded terribly, that he can so easily pretend nothing is wrong.

But he does know something is different, at least. He knows Xin Mo, and Luo Binghe can’t imagine how. He’d barely scrounged up word of it while in the Abyss. A blade lost to the dark, writhing hell-pit because demons themselves thought it too dangerous to bend to their whims. How in all the realms had Shizun known what it was? He’d expect a master to know a demonic blade, but to know Xin Mo by name. To know that was how he escaped the Abyss.

Force it from him, Xin Mo’s words are very convincing. He knows too much. Will turn it against you. What else does he know?

Luo Binghe has to focus a little more to push the thought down this time. He feels it still like an oil that won’t quite come off. He’s so focused inward that he almost misses his shizun’s slight pause before glancing back at him.

Right now, Shen Qingqiu is hard to read, his face a calm mask, and Luo Binghe feels like those eyes can see down to the very core of him. Like every thought he has ever had is to be laid bare before this man.

He hates that there is a part of him that is afraid of that now.

“Is Binghe alright?” Shen Qingqiu says. His gaze drifts around the area around them, before flicking to Luo Binghe’s face again, “Is he certain he doesn’t want to go to Qing Jing?”

Luo Binghe feels his polite nod more than he is aware of himself making it. He clasps his hands behind his back, curling one into a fist so hard that it shakes, “This disciple is fine Shizun.”

He is not fine. Luo Binghe wants to have answers. He wants to go up to Qing Jing, but what he wants is for Shen Qingqiu to be waiting up there with answers for him. He wants to walk up those steps and find himself at age seventeen again, before the whole world was changed in the most brutal of ways. He wants to drag his master up into that house, to point at the room he used to stay in and demand to know how he could throw away the boy who had looked at him like he hung the stars.

Maybe Shen Qingqiu isn’t as good at reading him as he thinks. The man’s eyes linger on his face for a moment before he turns and continues his walk. Luo Binghe follows after him after a few steps. He lets his eyes roam the grounds of An Ding and notices some of the disciples stopping to stare at the two of them. Luo Binghe hasn’t spoken with most of these people since after Shen Qingqiu’s qi deviation—well. Specifically since after he was welcomed into the Bamboo House. They seem to recognize him though, the few faces he can pick out of the crowd disappearing quickly to speak with others.

“This disciple is drawing attention,” Luo Binghe can’t help but say to Shen Qingqiu in a low voice. His shizun glances back at him, but he doesn’t miss the brief falter in his step as Luo Binghe adds calmly, “But none attack him. I wonder, what excuse did Shizun use to explain why this disciple didn’t come home?”

“Nobody has a reason to attack Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says to him, his eyes skirting away. 

“No?” Luo Binghe asks. Before he can press more, before he can savor the look of discomfort on his shizun’s face, they stop before one of the grander buildings. Or well—grand is not a word to be used for An Ding Peak in all honesty. It is a simple building, even compared to the Bamboo House which has its own quiet kind of beauty. Luo Binghe straightens as Shen Qingqiu knocks on the door. Repeatedly, and loudly. In fact, Shen Qingqiu seems about ready to roll up his sleeve and go at it even more aggressively when the door slams open.

Luo Binghe has met Shang Qinghua more than once—he had not frequented the Bamboo House when Luo Binghe was still a young disciple but he is often at the heels of Mobei-Jun now. Which means, by extension, that Shang Qinghua works for Luo Binghe. Still, the squirrelly little man takes a moment to truly recognize either of the people at his door.

“I’m busy ! I thought I—” Shang Qinghua cuts himself off, mouth snapping shut. For a second he just looks between Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe with a strange expression. Finally his eyes land on Shen Qingqiu and he squeaks out a, “U-uh—bro?”

“You look like shit,” Shen Qingqiu says, and Luo Binghe chokes because he’s never heard his master speak like that in his life. He turns wide eyes on his shizun, who breezes inside of the Leisure House.

“Wh—hey!” Shang Qinghua shoots Luo Binghe an alarmed look before scurrying after Shen Qingqiu. Luo Binghe follows after them, shutting the door behind them as he hears Shang Qinghua hissing. “You know that Luo Binghe is here right?”

“Do you think I’m blind?” Shen Qingqiu snaps. Luo Binghe catches Shen Qingqiu smacking the other man in the head with his fan, his expression turned into a scowl. “I need your help with this cursed artifact—have you even slept in the last twenty-four hours? Look at you. You look exhausted. Eat something, you make me worry about you, you little shit.”

“You’re worried about me?” Shang Qinghua says, only to get bapped three times with the fan again. Luo Binghe finds himself frowning, he didn’t think that Shang Qinghua was close with Shen Qingqiu at all. Obviously he’s wrong about that, he’s never seen his master act like this with any of his other martial siblings.

“You’re my best friend of course— ignore that! ” Shen Qingqiu hisses, hitting him even harder. “Don’t look at me like that! This is all your fault!”

Shang Qinghua finally seems to realize that Luo Binghe is glaring daggers into the side of his head. The little man stiffens, turning to look over at him and letting out a squeak that is not unlike a small rodent. For a second he looks like he is going to pass out on the spot, but he decides on sweeping a copious amount of paperwork off of his small tea table. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t sit quite yet, snatching a bowl by the window and stuffing it in Shang Qinghua’s hands with a stern, “Eat.”

Then, with all the poise expected of an immortal, he sits down. He pats the cushion next to him and glances up at Luo Binghe, who obediently sits next to his master. He stares at Shen Qingqiu, aware that there’s a slight dusting of pink on his ears. A surge of jealousy flares to life in Luo Binghe’s chest, and he turns his eyes on Shang Qinghua who is munching at the melon seeds that Shen Qingqiu foisted on him dutifully.

“Shizun and Shang Qinghua are close,” Luo Binghe says slowly. Shang Qinghua recognizes the danger in his tone. His shizun must not.

“Shang-shishu,” Shen Qingqiu says. “I found out that we’re from the same— ”

“Hometown!” Shang Qinghua yells, giving Shen Qingqiu a panicked look. Luo Binghe narrows his eyes. “Hometown, haha. Small world and all that. Turns out.”

There is something more to this. Shen Qingqiu looks irritated and thrusts his hand out toward Shang Qinghua so quickly that the man flinches back like he’s expecting to be slapped. “Uh… you and Binghe!? U-uh. Con… congrats?”

“Wh—” Shen Qingqiu stares at him, his face steadily getting bright red and Luo Binghe feels like he’s missing something. “He didn’t—th, people don’t propose like that here you moron!”

“You thought we were engaged?” Luo Binghe asks, his sour mood immediately lifting. Shang Qinghua looks over at him and raises both eyebrows.

“He’s being an idiot Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu snaps, and Luo Binghe’s mood darkens again. Right. Of course his shizun would be disgusted at the mere idea of that. He grits his teeth, trying to ignore the hollow feeling in his chest. “The ring is cursed you moron, the Ring of Warmth at the Heart. Do you remember it!?”

“Uh…” Shang Qinghua says, eyes flicking to Luo Binghe and back to Shen Qingqiu. “I might have heard of it somewhere?”

“Ring cursed by a man who thought his wife was cheating on him,” Shen Qingqiu says flatly.

“Oh! That one, yeah I’ve heard of it—oh. Oh,” Shang Qinghua says. “Is… Luo Binghe the one the ring tied you too?”

“Obviously,” Shen Qingqiu says through grit teeth. 

“Why drag me into this!?” Shang Qinghua asks.

“Because you wro—” Shen Qingqiu starts, and Shang Qinghua lunges across the table to slam both hands over Shen Qingqiu’s mouth. The other man looks incensed, Shang Qinghua is almost in Shen Qingqiu’s lap, and Luo Binghe feels his jealousy snap. He curls his fingers around Xin Mo’s hilt.

“Shizun, he’s not worth your time,” Luo Binghe grits out. He’s seething. Shang Qinghua is a traitor —Shizun doesn’t know that, but it still nettles him. How kindly would his shizun treat him if he knew that he had been part of the cause for the tragedy at the Immortal Alliance Conference? How would he treat him if he knew that he was betraying Cang Qiong Sect by working for Mobei-Jun?

Working for you, Xin Mo whispers traitorously. But easily replaced. Kill the little worm. He takes what is yours.

“No, I need to speak with him,” Shen Qingqiu says with a sigh as he pulls Shang Qinghua’s hand away from his mouth. “Don’t ask me stupid questions right now Airplane.”

Luo Binghe gives Shang Qinghua a puzzled look at the strange nickname, but he tries to relax. His fingers are still tight around the hilt of Xin Mo, but he does no more than narrow his eyes at the other man. Shang Qinghua lets out a nervous, tittering laugh a he sits back.

“Right uh. What do you want to know?” Shang Qinghua asks.

“I was given two ways to break the curse,” Shen Qingqiu says, and Shang Qinghua nods. “Obviously I want the one where we kill the demon who placed the curse on me in the first place.”

“Uh—that’s a red herring don’t kill the guy,” Shang Qinghua says nervously.

“...Excuse me?” Shen Qingqiu asks.

“Well—see. It was…uh. Created so that originally if you killed the person with the ring it would actually make the curse worse, that’d probably kill you so you don’t want to do that,” Shang Qinghua clears his throat. He flashes Shen Qingqiu a very nervous smile, then his eyes flick to Luo Binghe and back to Shen Qingqiu. “The uh. The real way to lift the curse is the… uh. Standard way. That the original person who made up the curse would have you lift a curse.”

Luo Binghe is not sure why Shang Qinghua is beating around the bush suddenly, but it is obnoxious. His Shizun stares at him with narrowed eyes for a moment, when Shang Qinghua clears his throat and nods his head at Luo Binghe. Then, as if this means something to Shen Qingqiu, he raises his brows. 

If Luo Binghe thought that his master’s face was briefly red before, it has nothing on his cheeks now. A stunning shade that would put most rouge to shame in all honesty. Shen Qingqiu sputters wordlessly for a few moments. Then, to Luo Binghe’s somewhat savage delight, Shizun picks up the bowl of melon seeds he’d given Shang Qinghua earlier and lobs it at his head with a loud cry of fury.

“OW! Hey!” Shang Qinghua yelps

“Be serious !” Shen Qingqiu snaps.

“I am serious, deadly serious bro!” Shang Qinghua almost wails the words. He lunges to clasp his arms around Shen Qingqiu in a way that traps both of the Qing Jing Peak Lord’s arms to his side. Shen Qingqiu squawks at him indignantly, and the two of them crash to the ground. Luo Binghe leaps to his feet, irritation sparking.

“Think of another way!” Shen Qingqiu squirms but Shang Qinghua is latched on fiercely. “You’re—ugh! The worst—hack… fucking. Hate…”

Shen Qingqiu grits his teeth and glowers. Shang Qinghua blinks up at him, looks over at Luo Binghe, and then back at Shen Qingqiu. Then, with a tone of genuine curiosity he asks, “Hey bro… what do you really thing about my writing?”

“Derivative horseshit, I hate that I love it,” Shen Qingqiu says. His mouth shuts and he glares.

“You love it?” Shang Qinghua is delighted, “I knew you didn’t hate it!”

“Yes I love it. Shut up ,” Shen Qingqiu seethes. Luo Binghe feels himself reaching the end of his patience. 

He… hates this. Hates that Shen Qingqiu is horsing around with this strange man. What had he called him earlier? His best friend. He didn’t think he had one of those,certainly not before the Alliance. Was it really so easy to make a friendship like this while Binghe was gone? While he was clawing his way through the muck, this man had weaseled his way into his Shizun’s life. This man that his Shizun couldn’t even really trust —and here he was, acting like himself in a way that Luo Binghe was only now seeing.

 “Binghe, go to Qing Jing Peak. This Master will join you there shortly, he needs to speak privately with your shishu.”

See? He already has Shen Qingqiu where he wants him. He’s already taken him away, Xin Mo’s hissing voice makes Luo Binghe draw the blade. Not even a cun from the sheathe, but enough for Shang Qinghua to pale significantly. Both him and Shen Qingqiu freeze. Silence stretches through the Leisure House, and demonic qi rolls off of Luo Binghe in waves. He is staring Shang Qinghua down, lips curling back from his teeth like an animal baring fangs.

A gentle hand startles him from his reverie, and he stares down at the hand gripping Xin Mo. Firmly, but gently, that hand pushes the blade back into the sheathe. He lifts his eyes and his shizun is looking at him, brows knitted in an expression of such open concern that it actually startles Luo Binghe for a moment.

“You came back too quickly,” Shen Qingqiu says to him softly, but his tone isn’t accusatory. There’s worry dripping from the words. “Oh Binghe, you rushed it didn’t you? You haven’t completely mastered Xin Mo.”

Luo Binghe feels like the air has been sucked out of his lungs. It takes everything in him not to lunge at his master and bury himself in his arms like a child. He swallows thickly, he wants to lie, but he’s so stunned that the anger has been swept right out of him. He just stares at Shen Qingqiu for a few moments, and feels those slender fingers squeeze his hand.

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe almost wheezes the word.

Shen Qingqiu’s eyes dance away again, and Luo Binghe wishes he could read what is there in those eyes before he does. But he feels Shen Qingqiu squeeze his hand again, and it isn’t until Luo Binghe drops his grip on Xin Mo’s hilt that his slender fingers drift away. Luo Binghe stares at him.

“Go on Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says. 

Luo Binghe feels stung by the gentle tone his master speaks more than anything. He might have preferred he be yelled at for almost attacking his martial uncle. This gentle side of his master feels painful in a different way. There is a tired note to his voice, almost resigned. But what he is resigned to, Luo Binghe doesn’t know. It makes his heart hurt.

“Shizun doesn’t trust me,” Luo Binghe says at the same time Xin Mo hisses the same into his mind. Or does it? Luo Binghe’s heart feels like it’s being crushed. He turns and tries to lean into the blade’s darkness for some energy. Some anger. It works. The painful feeling in his chest sparks into something angry, “ You brought me here with you! Why even bring me here if that was the case?”

“I—I was flustered. I can’t be too far from—just. Binghe we’ll discuss it later ,” Shen Qingqiu says. Is the frustration with himself or Binghe? Luo Binghe turns on his heel, and pauses mid-step when he hears a different, “But don’t. Don’t leave Cang Qiong. Please. Please Binghe, just wait for me at Qing Jing.”

A bitter laugh escapes Luo Binghe. Isn’t that the way it always is? He grips the hilt of his sword again. The way Shen Qingqiu’s eyes widen doesn’t bring him the satisfaction he had hoped it would. Instead, he feels empty as he snarls, “Even if you don’t want it, you asked for my help. So I’ll wait.”

With that, he turns and stalks out of the Leisure House.

────── 〔❅〕──────

Luo Binghe takes his time walking up the steps to Qing Jing. It gives him time to calm his whirling thoughts, to chew on the interaction he just had with Shen Qingqiu over in his head. Part of him wants to bury his head in his hands and maybe himself—how is he supposed to prove to Shizun that he’s trustworthy if he almost flies off the handle and stabs Shang Qinghua? 

He just—Shang Qinghua was so casual with Shen Qingqiu. And Shen Qingqiu swore around him, he never spoke like that with anyone! Why was he like that with him?

And what about how he treated Luo Binghe? Why was he so soft with him? Why did he look at him with so much worry in his eyes? Of course Luo Binghe could handle Xin Mo—but he wouldn’t have to handle the sword if he hadn’t needed a way to escape the Endless Abyss! Shen Qingqiu’s inconsistencies are starting to make Luo Binghe’s head spin. Does he care? Is it just an act?

He knows about Xin Mo, Luo Binghe thinks. Or maybe Xin Mo says the words to him.What if he’s just trying to get the sword away?

No that—that doesn’t make sense. Shen Qingqiu couldn’t use a sword made for demons anyway. He shakes his head, and furrows his brow. His thoughts, however, are interrupted when he hears a gasp. His head snaps up, and he sees Ning Yingying standing in the path in front of him with wide eyes of surprise.

Luo Binghe stares at her—this young woman he once considered his only friend in the world. She brought him a lot of trouble, unintentionally, but he still hasn’t forgotten that. She’s grown now, her youth transforming her into a pretty young lady. Her arms are full of training swords at the moment. How does she feel about him? What did Shen Qingqiu say to people about why he didn’t come home? He clears his throat and quietly says, “Hello shijie.”

“A-Luo!” Ning Yingying bursts into tears, dropping the swords and throwing herself at him. Luo Binghe has to rock back on his feet to make sure they don’t tumble down the stairs. The training swords do though, clattering loudly and gracelessly down the stone. “A-Luo! You’re alive!”

“You!” Luo Binghe hears, and he looks up to see Ming Fan pointing at him from higher up the stairs. He scowls despite himself.

“Me,” Luo Binghe responds flatly.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done!?” Ming Fan continues, storming toward him. He’s shorter than Luo Binghe now, and Luo Binghe is sure he can overpower him. Ming Fan might know that too, but he doesn’t falter in the slightest. “You’ve been gone for years! And what, you show up now!?”

“Don’t be mean to him!” Ning Yingying declares, her voice still warbly with tears. “Shizun will be so happy—oh! Oh no he’s on a mission!”

“Of course he is,” Ming Fan snaps, “He’s hardly ever on the Peak anymore because of this beast. How dare you!? If you didn’t die, why didn’t you have the decency to crawl your way back here sooner? Shizun was—he, you…”

Ming Fan grits his teeth, before turning and storming away. Ning Yingying pulls away from the hug, wiping her face with a soft sobbing laugh.

“Ignore him, he’s happy you're okay too,” Ning Yingying says, her voice is watery and hoarse but she laughs. “Oh A-Luo, you’re okay!”

“You thought I died?” Luo Binghe asks. So that was what Shen Qingqiu had said. It makes sense, he supposes. Zheng Yang had been conveniently destroyed as well, and it would be the easiest way for Shen Qingqiu to avoid questioning about his decision. Luo Binghe just… hadn’t considered that someone might question it. He wonders if they will now, and he isn’t sure he wants that to happen.

“Why else wouldn’t you come home?” Ning Yingying asks, and Luo Binghe can’t answer that. He almost laughs, but the noise won’t quite leave him. Instead, he feels his tongue is heavy in his mouth and he just stares at her. She stares back at him for a long while, as if trying to read him.

“It isn’t as if Shizun would miss me,” Luo Binghe finally manages, the words are bitter. He wants them to be a lie, but he thinks of his Shizun with Shang Qinghua—so different from his usual image, and he seethes with hurt and anger.

“Come with me,” Ning Yingying responds, her expression shuttering and becoming very serious. For a moment, Luo Binghe has the childish worry that he’s made her angry with him. He marvels at it, before he follows her like she asked.

She leads him through the peak, the training swords have been forgotten on the stairs but Luo Binghe doesn’t make mention of it. He sees students whispering where they go. These are followed by his name though.

“Is that Luo Binghe!?”

“Luo Binghe is alive?”

“Does Shizun know? Someone has to tell Shizun!”

Luo Binghe follows after his shijie obediently, and for a moment he thinks she’ll take him to the Bamboo House. She doesn’t stop there though, circling around to the back of it, where the bamboo grows thick and Luo Binghe feels nostalgia clog his throat. He doesn’t get long to revel in the feeling, however. When he sees a sword mound set up in the clearing where Shen Qingqiu used to take him to train.

Zheng Yang stands upright and whole in the mound, the tassel gently blowing in the breeze. Ning Yingying is quiet for a while as she stands at his shoulder, and Luo Binghe reels with confusion. He doesn’t realize he’s asking a question out loud until he hears himself say, “What is this?”

“Shizun hasn’t been the same since the Conference,” Ning Yingying confesses after a pause. Her expression is soft and sad, etched with worry. “He doesn’t sleep well, sometimes we can hear him calling out like he has bad dreams. He won’t eat, no matter what we try to give him. Mu-shishu says he shouldn’t practice inedia with Without-a-Cure but he just brushes it off. He's lost so much weight.”

Luo Binghe’s eyes snap to hers and concern crushes him. He’d noticed that Shen Qingqiu was thinner—that isn’t the curse then? He turns his head to stare dully at the sword mound, confused and scared for his master. Even with Without-a-Cure, how long has he not been eating well to lose so much weight as an immortal cultivator?

“He calls for you sometimes,” Ning Yingying says, unknowingly driving the knife deeper. “I don’t—he’s never at the peak anymore but when he is he just sits here for hours. A-Luo, he—I know you just got back. But something about what happened broke him. He needs you.”

He can’t bring himself to ask her the question that burns in his heart. You say that he needs me, but what if he doesn’t want me? The words won’t come. Instead he feels his eyes flood with tears and he bows his head. Ning Yingying rubs his back for a moment.

“Shizun missed you,” Ning Yingying says. Her voice cracks, “A-Luo, he’s been so heartbroken without you. We don't blame you for anything, for whyever you were gone, but... please. Come home.”

“I—” Luo Binghe doesn’t know what he can say. He chokes on any of the words that he could. She pats his back one more time before she dusts her skirts off with a sigh and wipes her own eyes.

“I need to go pick up the swords I dropped,” Ning Yingying says. “But A-Luo, if you want you can wait here or of course in the Bamboo House. Your room is still there, he wouldn’t let anyone touch it.”

Luo Binghe’s throat feels tight. He nods at her and she walks away. Turning back to the sword mound, Luo Binghe feels tears finally start to fall.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, staring and trying to wrap his head around the fact that it is here at all. It must be quite some time. The tears on his face eventually dry, but his heart feels heavy and painful in his chest. He has a headache that throbs behind the eyes, and a small part of him wishes he’d asked Ning Yingying to just stand here with him. So he wouldn’t be alone with his thoughts in this little clearing. So he wouldn’t think about what it meant that Shizun apparently stayed here for hours at a time. The man who pushed him in the Abyss put this here to kneel in front of. Why? To have an excuse? Or… or maybe…

Luo Binghe buries his face in his hands and weeps.

Chapter Text

【 SHEN QINGQIU 】

Shen Qingqiu watches Luo Binghe go with a heavy heart. The day had started out so well, all things considered. He supposes that this isn’t as bad as things really could be, but something in him itches to chase after Binghe anyway. Part of him wants to say it’s the cold—that is the most convenient excuse to himself. But he knows that it’s the hurt on Luo Binghe’s face and—hold on.

Can he not even lie to himself!? What the fuck!? What the fuck! Shen Qingqiu buries his face in his hands and groans. He’s got a terrible headache coming on. Half of the way he copes with shit is to fake it until he makes it! It’s like his personal motto at this point in his life, after all he’s posing as a Peak Lord. 

“Bro, of all the curses you had to get hit with—one that makes you tell the truth?” Shang Qinghua asks after he’s sure that Luo Binghe is gone far enough that he won’t overhear. “I thought for sure you were going to out us both there for a bit!”

“It’s not just that I can’t lie, remember? I just… fucking say shit. I lost 600 B-Points because I can’t keep my mouth shut,” Shen Qingqiu rubs his temples and heaves a tired sigh.

【 Take care not to reveal your status as a transmigrator or the existence of the System, User!】

  Oh shut up! I didn’t even really give anything away, you started panicking before I could with all your alarms and your point taking. Shen Qingqiu gripes at it. He already feels the cold settling uncomfortably into his bones. He can’t tell if it’s getting worse with distance between him and Binghe, or if it’s just time spent apart in general. Hm. “Are you sure dual cultivation is the only way to list the curse?”

“I mean, short of getting the guy who used it to curse you to remove it himself,” Shang Qinghua responds, raising his brows. He does, at least, have the decency to look sympathetic. Good, it’s his fault that the stupid curse exists in the first place. “Killing him will just make it worse though, and he probably knows that, so it’s hard to threaten a guy that knows it’ll be even worse if he dies.”

“We could pretend that we don’t know about that,” Shen Qingqiu says thoughtfully. He frowns, “Though I couldn’t lie to him so…”

“My son is a pretty good liar though,” Shang Qinghua says, leaning back and kicking his feet up. “You could leave it all to him, since you’re tied to him with the curse anyway.”

“He’s not your son. And I don’t understand why it tied me to Binghe in the first place!” Shen Qingqiu scowls, “This has all the makings of a Wife Plot—but why am I stuck playing the wife role again!? Do you remember anything else about that ring?”

Shang Qinghua’s expression goes a little strange at that. He sits up and rubs the back of his head, expression thoughtful. “Well… originally the ring was made by a guy convinced his wife had cheated on him. The ring bound her soul to him, but he thought it would be bound to whoever she had cheated with. Expecting this, he waited for her to start to freeze to death. All he saw was her being more genuine and sticking closer to him—but he got so paranoid that, even though all she could speak was the truth, he didn’t believe her. He forced her away, and it was only when she was found frozen to death that he realized she had been bound to him all along and that he’d killed his one true love. Because he didn’t do what he should have done the whole time—trust her.”

“So why did it tie me to Binghe? Because it thinks Luo Binghe needs to trust me?” Shen Qingqiu scoffs at that, “He has every right not to trust me. I’m lucky he hasn’t started tearing me limb from limb.”

“Maybe that’s it,” Shang Qinghua says thoughtfully. “After all, you didn’t throw him into the Abyss for the same reason as the original flavor. If you think about it, things would have gone extremely poorly for him if you hadn’t thrown him into the Abyss. All the cultivation world was about to discover he was a Heavenly Demon after all.”

“Are you telling me that I was doing him a favor by throwing him in?” Shen Qingqiu asks, he can’t help but feel disgusted at the mere thought. Sure, to be unveiled as a Heavenly Demon among the sects was dangerous, but Shen Qingqiu would not have let them kill his bun if he had been able to avoid the Abyss plotline! Shen Qingqiu would have run away with Luo Binghe before he let that happen.

“He’s going to ask why you threw him in, that’s probably the closest to the truth you can get,” Shang Qinghua says thoughtfully.

“It’s not the truth though!” Shen Qingqiu snaps. “I can’t say that because I know that I wouldn’t have done it if the System hadn’t been breathing down my neck! I hate that I did it at all, but I refuse to—to justify it as if it was a favor. ” 

“Bro—bro he is going to ask you that,” Shang Qinghua says. “Like sooner or later, surely it’s the Big Question on his brain y’know? Probably sooner rather than later. It’s bound to be on his mind, what are you going to do?”

Shen Qingqiu feels, suddenly, very much like that old internet meme of the old man in a red shirt. He closes his eyes and before he can stop himself he finds himself muttering, “Maybe this is what I deserve. For all I shit on the scum villain, wasn’t what I did worse in some ways? To show Binghe kindness, just to tear it away and betray him?”

There is a long beat of awkward silence. Shen Qingqiu snaps his mouth shut, and can’t quite meet Shang Qinghua’s eyes. The author is staring at him with an expression of surprise, and he clears his throat awkwardly before saying, “Fuck dude, that’s depressing.”

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t have a response to that. He just buries his face in his hands and heaves an exhausted sigh. What a fucking mess that he’s landed himself in. Now he’s gone and upset himself too. And he’s fucking cold too, miserable even. Shen Qingqiu frowns and removes one of his hands from his head to curl his fingers around the tea that Shang Qinghua offered. It does nothing to fight the chill in his hands, and he shivers lightly with a sigh.

“Is that the only reason it would have paired me with Binghe? To see if he should trust me?” Shen Qingqiu asks tiredly.

“I mean. Maybe it wants you to trust him?” Shang Qinghua says, and Shen Qingqiu snorts as he stares into his cup. He thinks of the hurt on Luo Binghe’s face when he had caught on to the fact that Shen Qingqiu didn’t trust him. He thinks about the way he looked with Xin Mo in his hand, ready to be drawn over… what exactly? “That or… I mean. Or you’re his soulmate.”

Shen Qingqiu is so surprised by that that his head slips from his hand and almost smashes into the table. He rights himself with a glare and snaps, “Be serious!”

“I told you, I am being serious!” Shang Qinghua whines.

“You did not write a draft where Shen Fucking-Qingqiu is Luo Binghe’s soulmate!” Shen Qingqiu snaps furiously at him. The idea utterly incenses him. If the scum villain ever dared, to touch Binghe in that way Shen Qingqiu would find a way to get into the PIDW universe just to castrate him. The idea infuriates Shen Qingqiu to no end.

“Not with Shen Qingqiu no,” Shang Qinghua admits. “In the original plotline this was going to be how Luo Binghe discovered his soulmate. The one person in the world who actually loved him, you know? But I figured it was too sappy and didn’t really fit the story for him to have one true soulmate. Bing-ge is the kind of guy who, if he found someone who really loved him that he truly loved in return, he’d just stick with that one person. The whole reason for the harem was to fill that void, y’know?”

“...On the one hand, I hate that you never dove into that in the novel,” Shen Qingqiu says coolly. “On the other, I fucking hate that you did that to him! Luo Binghe deserves someone to truly love him! Are you saying that my Luo Binghe won’t have someone to truly love him?! He deserves all the love in the world! There are hundreds of wives, surely one of them wants him for more than power or the heavenly pillar!”

“Aaah! Don’t hit me bro—didn’t I just say that maybe you were his soulmate!? The point is, no soul in this world is his soulmate! But you’re not really Shen Qingqiu, you’re not from this world—so… you know. Maybe you’re his soulmate, and that’s why the ring tied you together?” Shang Qinghua says, holding his hands up in a gesture to fend off several smacks of a fan. Shen Qingqiu can’t even bring himself to do that, he’s just staring at Shang Qinghua in open-mouthed stun.

“That’s—I’m a man!” Shen Qingqiu squawks at him. “And strai—hh? … Th… I’m str— why the fuck can I not say that?!”

“What’s not a lie?” Shang Qinghua asks, curious.

“That I’m str—the fuck !?” Shen Qingqiu cannot believe this, he’s incensed. Why can’t he say this of all things? Is the ring fucking broken!?

“...bro are you trying to say you’re straight?” Shang Qinghua asks.

“Yes!? It won’t let me!” Shen Qingqiu snaps. Shang Qinghua stares at him, he stares back at Shang Qinghua. Shen Qingqiu begins to feel his face change color—first the blood drains from it, then he feels his cheeks redden up so rapidly that it actually makes him fucking dizzy. It’s a little strange to feel, to know he’s blushing when he can’t feel heat in his face in th slightest. “The ring. Is acting as if it is a lie. For me to say that I am straight.”

“It doesn’t let people lie bro,” Shang Qinghua says.

“Fuck off!” Shen Qingqiu spits, and he gets up with a flourish of his sleeves. It makes him feel better, even though he still feels a bit dizzy and out of sorts. “The cold is getting unbearable, I’m going to find Luo Binghe.”

“Okay—ah. Bro, just consider the whole dual—” Shang Qinghua starts. Shen Qingqiu slams the door shut behind him before his friend can finish the words. He’s enough out of sorts about this whole thing. He’s having a bit of a meltdown, if he’s being fucking honest with himself.

How is he not straight!? That’s what the ring is saying right? But he—wouldn’t he have to believe on some level that he’s not straight for that to be considered a lie? Is that true? When the fuck? How the fuck!? Why the fuck!? Okay… so maybe he’s not really actually ever had any interest in women beyond knowing that he, as a man, would probably at some point have interest in them. Maybe he’s only ever really thought of how beautiful people were when they were men—like Liu Qingge or, of course, Luo Binghe…

Oh gods. Oh gods. He can’t even lie to himself right now. No! What is he supposed to do!? This isn’t a crisis that a Peak Lord should be having! This is 100% the kind of crisis that a NEET named Shen Yuan would have, not some lofty Immortal who lives on a mountaintop. His poser act is crumbling before his very eyes, he’s not straight. Oh gods he’s not straight what the fuck is he meant to do with this information!?

“Xiao-Ji—Ah, Shen-shidi,” Yue Qingyuan’s voice breaks Shen Qingqiu out of his own personal hell. Shen Qingqiu looks up at the man who is approaching him with a look of relief on his face. “Liu Qingge had said that your disciple brought you here. We just got back a few minutes ago by sword, how did he transport you so quickly?”

  “A-ah, well… that would be his sword,” Shen Qingqiu says. In order to keep himself from blabbing far too many details about Luo Binghe’s golden finger, he instead jumps into another topic. “Binghe was alive and he’s back with this master—for now. I’m not sure he’ll stay actually, probably not, which I hate. But really what do I expect at this point? He’s not rolling out the red carpet for me. Ah, unless the red is from my blood. Not that he’s been violent to me! He doesn’t need to be chased off the mountain just yet, and any carpets soaked in my blood are deserved really so—”

“Wh… carpets soaked in your? Is Shen-shidi okay?” Yue Qingyuan asks him. The man’s brows are furrowed with such obvious concern that it actually does derail Shen Qingqiu’s rambling. Okay, so if he’s willing to murder his thin face he can at least distract himself with other topics.

“Nope!” Shen Qingqiu responds truthfully. “And this master would like to no longer be having this conversation anymore!”

“You’re trembling,” Yue Qingyuan’s eyes are warm with concern as he steps forward and gently rests his hand against Shen Qingqiu’s forehead. He blinks with surprise, “You’re—you’re freezing cold Xiao-Jiu!”

“Don’t call me that!” Shen Qingqiu snaps, pushing Yue Qingyuan’s hand away. He doesn't mean to lose his temper. He's more desperate than truly annoyed, the last thing he wants to do is have an awkward conversation with his sect leader and big brother figure and ruin whatever broken relationship he's managed to piece together. “It’s because of a curse. I’m cold, please let… this master find Luo Binghe. If Zhangmen-shixiong wishes for clarity on the matter he may speak with Mu-shidi.”

Get a grip, Shen Qingqiu! Shen Qingqiu scolds himself mentally. He’s so out of sorts that his formality has been all over the place in this conversation. Thankfully, Yue Qingyuan seems to take the dismissal for what it is. He stops and watches Shen Qingqiu walk away with a forlorn, guilty expression. It needles him so much that he can’t help but blurt, “And stop looking at me like that!”

For a reason that is absolutely beyond that, Yue Qingyuan actually perks up at those words. Before Shen Qingqiu can say anything else humiliating about that, he stalks away. He’s all kinds of unsettled after that encounter. He hasn’t been able to keep up even a little bit of his poser act! How quickly is this curse taking effect? Gods he is fucking cold.

He finds his teeth chattering and Yue Qingyuan is right, he is trembling. Shen Qingqiu is the kind of cold that feels cutting. The kind of cold that seeps into the lungs and makes sensitive teeth ache. The kind of cold that makes his bones creak and makes him feel stiff. He keeps having to pause on his ascent up the stairs, feeling oddly short of breath. Like the air he is breathing is frigid winter air, instead of the moderately temperate air of the mountain.

“Shizun!” Shen Qingqiu hears, and he groans despite himself as Ning Yingying approaches with a smile. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to notice that, “How was Shizun’s trip to Jin Lan City?”

“Horrible, I’ve been cursed and I’m so cold I feel like I’m dying,” Shen Qingqiu grumbles. The informal manner of speech slips out, and he lifts his fan to try and hide most of his face. He notices it trembling. Ning Yingying is staring at him, stunned. “Apologies, the way this master speaks is somewhat impacted by the curse. Has Yingying seen Luo Binghe?”

“...she did yes Shizun,” Ning Yingying says. There’s something funny about her face, and Shen Qingqiu raises his brows. Why on earth does she look guilty? Did she and Luo Binghe sneak off to kiss or something? He almost blurts out as much, but before he can embarrass himself she adds, “This Yingying is sorry! She showed him to the sword mound.”

Shen Qingqiu stills, feeling as though his breath has been stolen. Then, in a hoarse voice Shen Qingqiu rasps, “Ah. Fuck,” and Ning Yingying’s eyes grow comically wide.

────── 〔❅〕──────

Shen Qingqiu is reeling with emotions by the time he makes his way to the clearing where he erected the sword mound with Zheng Yang. Luo Binghe is standing there, staring at it dully like a sleepwalker. When he notices Shen Qingqiu he straightens and his expression smooths into one that is difficult to read. Everything about Binghe seems hard to read lately. He doesn’t know what he should say or do with him anymore.

He tries very hard not to think of what Shang Qinghua said. Him, Luo Binghe’s soulmate—that’s just… that’s. That’s just! That’s all he can say about that right now! Shen Qingqiu will approach that later when he is allowed to have a breakdown or lie about it in his head, thank you very much.

Right now, he has a disciple that he needs to stick to like glue.

Despite the solemn atmosphere, Shen Qingqiu feels the relief of Luo Binghe’s presence like the sun itself is shining on him. The cold eases away from him slowly, a gradual sensation. It is all that Shen Qingqiu can do not to lean into his disciple and physically grab onto him. He’s not that desperate! Yet.

The quiet is stifling as it sits in this clearing. He considers what he is going to say carefully, relieved he isn’t just jumping in and rambling at Binghe. Is it because he is planning on saying it at all? Or is it because he’s making sure to take the time to speak? Curses are confusing. 

Shen Qingqiu clears his throat before carefully saying, “This master… hoped that Binghe wouldn’t see this. But Binghe may have Zheng Yang back, if he wishes. Xin Mo is a more powerful blade, but this master would be happy to see him wield Zheng Yang again.”

“Why not?” Luo Binghe’s voice is hoarse, and Shen Qingqiu realizes that his disciple’s eyes are red at the corners. His hands itch to hold Luo Binghe’s face in his palms. He doesn’t quite dare. “Shizun didn’t want this disciple to think that he was cared about?”

A soft sigh leaves Shen Qingqiu at that, as he stares at the sword mound with a complicated expression. He thinks his words over carefully, though he struggles not to just blurt out stupid truths. The ring on his finger aches, and he rubs it with his fingers to soothe it.

“This master doesn’t want to complicate Binghe’s feelings on the matter,” Shen Qingqiu says slowly. “He doesn’t want Binghe to feel as though this was performative, to garner sympathy to avoid punishment for what this master did. This master had no right to grieve, after what he did. I didn’t… I had no right to allow myself to wallow, and yet I selfishly did so. I couldn’t let it go, even after I failed you.”

Shen Qingqiu can feel Luo Binghe standing stiffly next to him. He can feel the way his disciple is looking at him, with an intensity that almost burns. Or maybe that is just the warmth of him. Shen Qingqiu swallows thickly, his throat isn’t just tight. It aches with the sorrow that fills his heart. That Luo Binghe would see this is a failing on his part. He should have considered this possibility.

He thinks, suddenly, of Yue Qingyuan and the heavy guilt he sometimes stares at Shen Qingqiu with. He thinks of how, just moments before, he had run from that guilt. And here he is, putting the same on Luo Binghe’s shoulders. A sorrow for what he has done without telling him the reason why.

“Punishment?” Luo Binghe asks after several beats of silence.

“It is what I deserve,” Shen Qingqiu croaks. “For what I did to Binghe, for pushing him into the Abyss. After stabbing him in the chest to do so.”

“Who would punish Shizun?” Luo Binghe asks, his voice has an anxious edge to it that reminds Shen Qingqiu of when he was just a disciple chasing after Shen Qingqiu’s heels. It makes him think of when Luo Binghe would fret if his Without-a-Cure had a bad flare up that left him lying in the bed for longer than usual. Shen Qingqiu blinks up at him with surprise.

“I—this master thought that Binghe would,” Shen Qingqiu responds after a moment. It has not occurred to him that Luo Binghe wouldn’t . Not until he sees the wounded look in his disciple’s eyes.

“Is Shizun… is Shizun afraid of this disciple?” Luo Binghe asks. He asks it as if the words break his heart to even consider.

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t want to answer this. He sees the hurt that is on Luo Binghe’s face. He realizes that if he says this it’ll cause him more pain. But he can’t lie, and he croaks out, “This master was afraid of his fate, and was afraid that Binghe would bring it upon him. But—but I don’t… I don’t think I’m afraid of Binghe anymore. No, no I’m not afraid of you anymore. I can’t be, not when you look at me like that.”

If he says it, it must be true. He can’t lie.

“Shizun thinks I’m such a monster?” Luo Binghe chokes out. “That my blood is so vile it would compel me to hurt him?”

“No! No, this master would never think that,” Shen Qingqiu assures, and before he can stop himself he’s giving into his earlier urge. He reaches up and takes Luo Binghe’s face in his hands. The man stills completely in his grasp, Shen Qingqiu doesn’t think he’s even breathing . He rubs his thumb gently over his cheek, his eyes narrowing as he firmly continues, “Binghe is not a monster! This master deserves vengeance to be brought on him by Binghe. He— I hurt Binghe! I hurt you, I should be hurt in return.”

Distress makes Shen Qingqiu’s voice more animated than usual. Or maybe it’s the curse doing that. It’s not Shen Qingqiu speaking as much as it is Shen Yuan, and Shen Yuan isn’t the calm immortal that he often pretends to be. He’s a man that keeps most of his freakouts in his head. He feels naked now, as if he is baring his soul to the world. But isn’t this the least he can do for Binghe?

“This disciple doesn’t want to punish Shizun!” Luo Binghe all but wails the words, and to Shen Qingqiu’s horror the young man bursts into tears. They’re warm, and Shen Qingqiu brushes them gently off of Luo Binghe’s cheeks, his heart is hurting. “This disciple just wants Shizun to let him come home. ”

The words break Shen Qingqiu’s heart. He knows, in his head, that Luo Binghe is a master manipulator. He knows that he’s a fantastic liar, that he can charm his way into and out of any situation with his silver tongue. Yet he can’t help but remember Shang Qinghua saying that the downfall of his curse was ultimately trust, and Shen Qingqiu suddenly desperately wants to trust Luo Binghe.

If only to make sure he doesn’t hurt him anymore.

“Oh Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu softly utters. “I’ve hurt you so terribly. I’m so sorry.”

Luo Binghe makes a choked sound at that, then he almost bowls Shen Qingqiu over as he embraces Shen Qingqiu. The man is suddenly clinging to Shen Qingqiu so tightly that Shen Qingqiu can hardly breathe. Luo Binghe’s face is buried against his shoulder, and he’s wailing like a child that has been lost for so long that he’s forgotten what it’s like to be found. Shen Qingqiu patiently wraps his arms around him, rubbing his back.

“Shhh, I’m here, I’m here Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu murmurs. He finds himself swaying slightly, as though rocking a small child to sleep. Luo Binghe cries and cries and Shen Qingqiu feels tears prickling at the corners of his own eyes. He rests his cheek against Luo Binghe’s fluffy curls, shakily inhaling as he rubs Luo Binghe’s back. “Oh my little sheep, I’ve got you.”

His throat catches around the words, and he hugs Binghe a little tighter. Maybe, in this way, he might be able to press the care he has for his disciple into him. He wants to somehow imprint it into Luo Binghe’s heart. To show him that he never really wanted to abandon him. It is a dangerous mental path to go down, and he is glad for the distraction of caring for Luo Binghe, or he might say something that would end terribly for him.

As Luo Binghe’s sobs slowly calm, Shen Qingqiu is becoming more and more aware of the dampness on his shoulder from his disciple’s tears. He lifts Luo Binghe’s head so that he can look at his face. More tears leak out of those dark eyes, and Shen Qingqiu can’t help the fondness in his heart as he softly says, “No more tears, ah? This master will always welcome Binghe home.”

“Shizun!” Luo Binghe cries out, and attaches himself to Shen Qingqiu again. Shen Qingqiu sighs, patting his head gently. He missed these soft curls! A little bit of the world feels righted, now that Shen Qingqiu can gently pet them again.

“Come now,” Shen Qingqiu says with a soft huff. Luo Binghe finally lifts his head and lets Shen Qingqiu dry his tears. Shen Qingqiu wants to sigh. Even after crying his heart out, Luo Binghe looks lovely! “Just look at you, like a model from a magazine even with all these tears. Let’s not stand here and cry anymore. Bamboo House please!”

Before I say anything to lose B-Points! Shen Qingqiu mentally adds when he notices a blue window out of the corner of his eye. It doesn’t ding him or anything—if he starts losing points for references then he’s well and truly fucked! It just seems to be trying to menace him. System, I hope you remember that I can’t control when I say some of these things!

【 The consequences of User’s adventures are his own - including if those consequences cause him to break System rules. Please be aware of this user! +100 Satisfaction points for a disciple master heart-to-heart! 】

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t complain when Luo Binghe sticks to him like glue. Despite being a grown man, Luo Binghe holds onto the edge of Shen Qingqiu’s sleeve like a child afraid of losing their parent in a busy mall. Shen Qingqiu shakes his head, but for the first time in a long time his heart feels lighter. A weight has been lifted from his shoulders. As far as curses go, at least this one has given him the chance to speak with Binghe and apologize.

Chapter Text

【 LUO BINGHE 】

Luo Binghe keeps playing the words that Shen Qingqiu spoke to him over and over again in his head. He’s nothing if not focused when it comes to Shen Qingqiu, and his dogged pursuit of burning them into his memory makes his heart feel like a fragile thing in his chest. He has a million more questions, somehow—but there is a tentative glimmer of hope he feels as well. A flicker of something he just realizes now that he was a little afraid to let blaze true. He’s been determined to earn Shen Qingqiu’s love back, it never occurred to him that he might not have lost it in the first place.

Why did you throw me away then? Luo Binghe wants to beg his master, but Shen Qingqiu’s slender fingers have wrapped around his own and Luo Binghe is afraid if he voices the question the man will pull away. Instead, he quietly allows himself to be pulled into the Bamboo House and tries not to enjoy the way that Shen Qingqiu frets over him too much. He allows himself to look around the room and feels his brow furrow.

Though it is far from filthy—clearly some disciple is making an attempt—the Bamboo House is nowhere near as immaculate as when Luo Binghe was in charge of the chores. There are signs that Shen Qingqiu does not frequently stay here—no books left within easy reach of his master, the cushions for guests are nowhere in sight and there is some dust on some of the fans that he keeps on a stand nearby. His desk as well has heaps of paperwork, though organized it is undeniable that the work has begun to pile up for his master.

Is anyone looking after Shen Qingqiu properly. Luo Binghe is reluctant to pull his hand from Shen Qingqiu’s, but he wants to check the kitchen as well. He decides that he’ll allow himself the luxury of holding his shizun’s hand until Shen Qingqiu notices he’s doing it. The other man exhales as he looks around the room.

“This master doesn’t—hasn’t liked staying on Qing Jing Peak much,” Shen Qingqiu utters the words softly, like he isn’t quite aware that he’s saying them. “He missed Binghe terribly, the Bamboo House was… hard to be in without him.”

“This disciple missed Shizun as well,” Luo Binghe croaks. He feels Shen Qingqiu’s fingers tighten around his own, and has the strongest urge to pull that hand up and kiss the tips of those fingers. That is probably too audacious for his master though. “Shizun if—”

“This master—ah,” The two of them spoke at the same time. Shen Qingqiu clears his throat, “Go ahead Binghe.”

“If—if Shizun doesn’t think that this disciple is a monster then why did he throw him into the Abyss?” Luo Binghe says. Shen Qingqiu stiffens, as if something pains him. Luo Binghe rubs his thumb over the back of his knuckles, voice soft, “This Binghe would like to know so that he never does what caused his Shizun to… to make such a decision again.”

Luo Binghe does not think that he could survive Shen Qingqiu throwing him away again. His heart couldn’t stand it. He finds himself pulled down into Shen Qingqiu’s arms again, the man hugging him so tightly that Luo Binghe’s heart stutters in his chest. He isn’t used to Shen Qingqiu initiating physical affection.

“This master must be careful how he responds,” Shen Qingqiu finally says, and he sounds pained. “Will Binghe trust him if he allows him to consider how to word this answer? He knows he doesn’t deserve—”

“This disciple will trust Shizun,” Luo Binghe replies immediately. Desperate to prove his loyalty, perhaps. He shoves his worries about it aside, straightening and holding Shen Qingqiu’s hand between both of his palms. The other man seems to notice at that moment that he’s been holding Luo Binghe’s hand, because a lovely dusting of pink crosses over his cheeks. “Shizun, allow this disciple to cook lunch for him.”

“Ah—if that’s what Binghe wants…”

“It is,” Luo Binghe firmly replies.

“Then of course he may prepare this master’s meal. Let me call for Ming Fan so you can get fresh ingredients,” Shen Qingqiu says, pulling his hand from Luo Binghe’s and coughing lightly. He drifts to the door. He pauses and shudders briefly.

“Shizun?” Luo Binghe asks.

“Ah—I’m cold,” Shen Qingqiu says, waving Luo Binghe off. Luo Binghe’s brow furrows, the weather isn’t chilly in the slightest today. He watches as Shen Qingqiu approaches the place where talismans kept to summon his Head Disciple are. Luo Binghe allows himself a closer look at the state of the Bamboo House before wandering over to the door where he can meet his shixiong again. Ming Fan is already there, his eyes narrowed as he meets Luo Binghe’s and then looking over to Shen Qingqiu.

Luo Binghe’s Shizun has approached him again, stopping to stand at Luo Binghe’s shoulder. It gives Luo Binghe a little thrill, and he can’t quite help the smug look he shoots to Ming Fan at that. Ming Fan rolls his eyes at him, but beyond that only cups his hands and deferentially says, “What can this disciple do for Shizun?”

“Ming Fan, Luo Binghe is going to cook me some lunch,” Shen Qingqiu says. “Please fetch him fresh ingredients for that.”

It’s very brief, but there’s a flicker of relief on Ming Fan’s face at that. Ning Yingying had said that Shen Qingqiu wasn’t eating well—and if his loss of weight has to do with that and not the curse then Luo Binghe is inclined to believe his shijie. He can’t help his spike of concern, how bad must it be that his enemy would be relieved that Luo Binghe’s cooking might get Shen Qingqiu to eat again?

He relays what he’ll need to Ming Fan quickly and, despite his clear dislike of Luo Binghe, the other disciple doesn’t protest his given job or do more than cast a look of disdain at Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe watches him go, and realizes that Shen Qingqiu is still standing next to him. Curious, Luo Binghe glances over at his master, who seems to be muttering under his breath about something.

“Shizun?” Luo Binghe asks, and Shen Qingqiu jumps as though he was deep in thought. “Can this disciple do something for him?”

“Ah—you’re doing plenty Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says. “This master is going to explain the curse in greater detail so that Binghe understands things a little more clearly, he thinks. He would like to wait for—ah! Ming Fan, that was quick.”

“Ning-shimei had already gathered ingredients for Shizun,” Ming Fan says, and Luo Binghe mentally thanks his shijie for her kindness and forethought. There’s even more than he’d asked for in the box that Ming Fan has brought for them, and he dutifully looks it over as Ming Fan passes the box to him. “She knew that the lit—that Luo-shidi’s return would likely mean the kitchens needed to be restocked.”

“Thank her for this master,” Shen Qingqiu says to him. “And thank you, Ming Fan. You may go, unless you needed this master for something?”

“No Shizun, this Ming Fan will make sure that Shizun and Luo-shidi have time to catch up,” Ming Fan says. The last bit is punctuated by a glance at Luo Binghe. “He expects his shidi will remain at Shizun’s side for a time?”

“Of course,” Luo Binghe answers. Ming Fan gives him a curt nod, turns on his heel and walks away a little stiffly. The young man turns around and shouts.

“Forgive this disciple for his impropriety Shizun!” Ming Fan yells, before his tone shifts aggressively and he adds, “ Little Beast , don’t you dare hurt Shizun again!” 

Kill the worm, Xin Mo hisses in his head. A violent urge that curls like a serpent around his shoulders. Show him what a real “Beast” can do.

“I wouldn’t dream of it shixiong,” Luo Binghe responds calmly, ignoring the way that his Shizun squawks and sputters at that. He shuts the door before the conversation can devolve anymore for his poor master. He feels a soft hand in his hair and blinks, looking down at Shen Qingqiu and feeling his heart leap a little.

“Don’t listen to him, this master will talk to the disciples again about calling you that,” Shen Qingqiu mutters. Luo Binghe can’t help but notice that he doesn’t deny the implication that Luo Binghe leaving would hurt him though. It makes Luo Binghe grin enough that Shen Qingqiu’s eyes narrow, “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing Shizun,” Luo Binghe says in the most innocent way that he can muster. Shen Qingqiu eyes him in a way that Luo Binghe can only describe as wary. It doesn’t hurt the way it would even a few hours previous. He heads toward the kitchen with his box of ingredients, and notices that Shen Qingqiu follows him step for step. “Shizun can relax while this disciple is cooking if he would like.”

“Ah—that is part of what this master needs to discuss with him,” Shen Qingqiu says. Luo Binghe pauses to put the box on the counter and tilts his head at his master. Shen Qingqiu flicks open a fan and covers the lower part of his face with it, “Regarding the curse that is. Binghe may work as he explains.”

Luo Binghe hums in agreement as he takes his ingredients out and finds utensils. He notices that the blades are sharpened—recently so. He is almost certain Ning Yingying is the culprit of that—he’ll have to thank her for certain. 

“This master’s curse has two main afflictions that Binghe should be made aware of,” Shen Qingqiu says. Luo Binghe sets the water to boil and begins to slice the ginger as he listens to his master’s soothing voice, “The first is that distance between this master and the one the ring has chosen as the other part of the curse causes this master to become cold. This will worsen over time, and has begun to worsen already.”

“Is it dangerous?” Luo Binghe asks in alarm, his mind shooting back to the moments he has left his shizun alone for any period of time. Was that why he was so cold when they reunited? Was it why he’d shuddered just going to the door ?!

“Unfortunately it will result in this master dying of hypothermia if he is kept away from Binghe for too long,” Shen Qingqiu responds.

“ Shizun !” Luo Binghe exclaims, he can’t help it. Why did Shen Qingqiu keep this to himself and even send him away at some point!? He stares at his master, and Shen Qingqiu waves him off and clears his throat.

“This master will remain close to Luo Binghe going forward, it was… ah, somewhat more bearable and this master thought that he could handle it when he sent you to the peak ahead of him,” Shen Qingqiu seems uncomfortable as he answers Luo Binghe’s unspoken question. Luo Binghe wants to cling to him again, but instead looks over his shoulder at the water and gives a thoughtful noise.

“This Binghe insists Shizun follow him for a moment then,” Luo Binghe says, and Shen Qingqiu tilts his head. His master does follow him though, and there is a little thrill in the fact that Shen Qingqiu is only a few steps away from him. That he listened to Binghe when he asked him to follow. Luo Binghe gets a seat for his master, and goes back to the kitchen before setting it down. Shen Qingqiu huffs but uses the offered place to sit.

“Thank you Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu softly says.

“Of course, Shizun,” Luo Binghe responds. He turns back to the food and adds. “You said there was another aspect of the curse?”

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t respond. Luo Binghe focuses on finishing the slicing of the ginger and then cleaning the scallions for their meal. When Shen Qingqiu still doesn’t say anything after he finishes he turns to look at him.

“Shizun?”

“The other affliction the curse causes is a truth serum of sorts,” Shen Qingqiu says slowly. Luo Binghe’s eyes widen, as his master fidgets with the fan he holds in his hand. He’s spreading it open and closed, not looking at Luo Binghe as he speaks. “But also makes this master say things that he would otherwise keep to himself.”

“...this is why Shizun has been speaking freely and informally every now and then?” Luo Binghe asks. Shen Qingqiu nods at this, and Luo Binghe finds that his mind is racing suddenly. There are so many questions he would ask Shen Qingqiu, the idea of doing so while Shen Qingqiu physically cannot lie to him is extremely tempting. Further than that, the idea of asking questions that Shen Qingqiu cannot keep the answers of to himself…

Make him tell you, Xin Mo encourages. 

Luo Binghe’s fingers flex and he steps closer to Shen Qingqiu. His shizun looks up at him in surprise, and Luo Binghe is extremely tempted to ask a million questions at once. He feels his lips twitch a little at the thought. Why did you throw me into the Abyss Shizun?

The question is on the tip of his tongue, but the resignation on Shen Qingqiu’s face stills it. This doesn’t feel fair, to ask this of his master when he can do nothing but speak the truth. Like he can’t trust him to not lie otherwise. 

“Shizun, what is your favorite color?” Luo Binghe asks instead.

“Green—wh—why did you ask that?” Shen Qingqiu asks him.

“Mmm,” Luo Binghe’s eyes twinkle and he grins at his master. “His favorite animal?”

“From where this master is from or from here?” Shen Qingqiu bafflingly responds. Luo Binghe tilts his head to one side as he considers the response. “From where I grew up, I like an animal called a Komodo dragon. It’s not a real dragon, but a large reptile with bacteria in its mouth so potent that it is functionally venomous. Their teeth are almost always blood covered because of the tissue they’re covered in, and oh! They are cunning creatures with an incredible sense of smell.”

Luo Binghe can’t help but smile as he listens to his master ramble—actually ramble . His Shizun gets excited about creatures, but Luo Binghe has always had the sense that he’s held himself back. He decides to perhaps abuse his Shizun’s state of speaking his mind to ask other harmless things, mostly about the creatures from wherever it is that Shizun grew up. At first, his shizun seems to be on edge. As though afraid that Luo Binghe will pry too deeply, but there is a point where he hits his stride. He talks about animals that he is pretty sure Luo Binghe has never heard about, though there are times where he pauses as though he is choosing his words very carefully, he clearly relaxes into it.

Shen Qingqiu is partway through explaining an “okapi” when Luo Binghe has poured the wine over the pork for their meal and placed the lid over it to cook. He turns to his shizun and gently helps him to his feet with a soft chuckle.

“What are you laughing at me for? You’re the one who asked,” Shen Qingqiu huffs—he’s dangerously close to pouting. A rush of fondness bursts in Luo Binghe’s chest. It takes everything in him not to pull the other man in his arms and kiss him. Ah—he could ask that. What would his Shizun do if he dared to kiss him?

He keeps himself from doing that as well.

“This Binghe likes listening to Shizun talk about creatures and animal from where he grew up,” Luo Binghe says. He tips his head curiously at his master and adds, “Where is Shizun from?”

“Shanghai—ffff,” Shen Qingqiu flinches as though struck, burying his head in his hands. A strange shudder goes through him and he shakes his head.

“Shizun—” Luo Binghe asks, alarmed.

“D-don’t ask Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says quickly. “Please.”

Luo Binghe stares at him for a moment, but there’s a desperation in Shen Qingqiu’s eyes that makes him back off. Why is it that the more he finds out about Shen Qingqiu, the more he finds himself wanting to ask more questions? He knows he probably shouldn’t, but he says, “Was that the curse hurting you?”

Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders are stiff, as though he is fighting himself to keep his mouth shut. Luo Binghe almost retracts the question, though he’s not sure that would work in this situation. 

“No, it was the S—ss… something else,” Shen Qingqiu grits out. He looks to be in pain and utters a soft, “Binghe. Please. ”

Luo Binghe isn’t sure what is happening. Something is hurting his master—something that Shen Qingqiu is desperately afraid of. Luo Binghe can’t help but remember that his Shizun had been afraid of him earlier, but even then it hadn’t been an obvious thing on his face. It’s obvious now. Shen Qingqiu’s eyes are wide and pleading with him.

“Shizun, what is your favorite thing that this disciple cooks for you?” Luo Binghe asks, and that works. The tension drains from Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders.

“Your congee of course,” Shen Qingqiu huffs, though his words shake a little. Luo Binghe watches his face closely, but goes back to asking him simple questions. 

“Mn, who is your favorite qin player on the mountain?”

“Binghe.”

“I just want to know Shizun!”

“No that’s the answer, it’s you,” Shen Qingqiu says, his face might be getting a little pink.

“Oh? What about your favorite painter?” Luo Binghe asks, leaning toward his master with a smirk.

“...you.”

“Who is the best at swordplay?”

“Luo Binghe.”

“Is that the answer again?”

“Yes—stop that!” Shen Qingqiu’s face is definitely getting pink. There’s a lovely blush on his cheek bones and the tips of his ears. Luo Binghe is a beast—he wants to bite his ear gently in his teeth. To pull the man under him and mark him and see how far that blush can go.

“I can’t help it Shizun, this disciple likes being Shizun’s favorite,” Luo Binghe chuckles.

“Of course you’re my favorite,” Shen Qingqiu responds, and Luo Binghe blinks. A slow smile curls over his lips as Shen Qingqiu sputters, “You! Stop that right now!”

“But Shizun, you never speak your mind about the things you enjoy,” Luo Binghe says as he leans into his master’s space. He knows he’s pushing the boundary, but to his delight Shen Qinqiu doesn’t shove him away. The other man does flick his fan open and hides behind it though. Luo Binghe chuckles, gently curling a finger over the paper of it—careful not to crinkle the beautiful fan. It’s one Luo Binghe painted for him in the months before the conference, he notices. It has bamboo and sparrows painted over the paper. He gently pushes the fan down, and catches Shen Qingqiu peeking at him out of the corner of his eye. “This Binghe wants to know all he can to please his Shizun.”

Shen Qingqiu gapes at him before folding his fan up with a snap and lightly bopping Luo Binghe on top of his head with it. Luo Binghe laughs loudly despite himself. He loves his master when he’s put together, but this side of Shen Qingqiu is too cute! He can’t help the fondness that rushes through him at seeing his master flustered beyond speech itself.

“Sh-shameless! Listen to the way you phrase things!” Shen Qingqiu snaps, he looks so red he could rival some of the chili sauce that Luo Binghe uses in their meals. “Save it for your wives Binghe!”

Luo Binghe allows Shen Qingqiu to grab his cheek and pinch it a little. His master doesn’t do it hard enough to hurt, but tugs on his face a little and Luo Binghe chuckles warmly despite his exasperation at the words. “Shizun, this disciple isn’t married to anyone.”

“...what? You should have at least five of them waiting to marry you!” Shen Qingqiu exclaims.

“This disciple hasn’t met anyone he’s interested in courting since leaving Qing Jing,” Luo Binghe patiently explains. He wants to ask why his master is so convinced he would, but decides to take it as flattery.

He can see his master thinking this over and his lips thin into a line that says there are things he wants to say but is struggling not to. Luo Binghe, sensing this is something—for some reason—that his master would prefer to keep to himself asks, “Shizun, what kind of wine do you like from around here?”

That, thankfully, does distract him. Luo Binghe will have to pay close attention to make sure he can gently steer his master away from topics that make him uncomfortable. It bothers Luo Binghe to be so close to it, but perhaps this will allow Shen Qingqiu to trust him more. Maybe then he’d be willing to offer things regarding him without a curse.

Luo Binghe surely can dream.

“Alright,” Shen Qingqiu says, after Luo Binghe has confirmed that he is Shen Qingqiu’s favorite at almost everything on the peak. The other things he can definitely become his favorite at. It makes the half-demon preen with the attention of his master, though Shen Qingqiu looks about ready to combust. “Alright that is enough, we need to talk about lifting this curse.”

“Not killing the merchant?” Luo Binghe clarifies.

“Unfortunately no,” Shen Qingqiu sighs heavily. “And the main method is—off the table. So to speak. Erhem. But the plan to track the merchant down is still a go. We simply need to convince him that we will kill him. Without me somehow spoiling that, of course.”

“This disciple can be very convincing Shizun,” Luo Binghe chirps. He can’t help but notice his master’s eyes light up in open excitement. Ah, this he will miss when the curse is lifted. Shizun’s expressions are much easier to read like this. “Shizun wants me to threaten him.”

“Perhaps I think that Luo Binghe is cool,” Shen Qingqiu says calmly. “That is—amazing.”

Luo Binghe’s heart skips a beat and he grins. Shen Qingqiu baps him on the head with his fan again, but it doesn’t dampen Luo Binghe’s spirits in the slightest. However, he forces his expression into a serious one.

“This Binghe will respect his master, who does not want to mention the other cure,” Luo Binghe says. Shen Qingqiu closes his mouth and his expression tightens but Luo Binghe barrels on, “This disciple does ask that his master promise not to remove the other option entirely. Please.”

“Binghe…” Shen Qingqiu sighs, “You wouldn’t say that if you knew what the cure was.”

I bet I would, Luo Binghe thinks stubbornly. He doesn’t say it though. Only humming thoughtfully. “Is there anything else Shizun can think of that may lift the curse?”

Shen Qingqiu furrows his brow and looks to consider it for a moment. The man’s eyes light up and he goes, “Ah! Of course!”

“Shizun thought of something?” Luo Binghe asks.

“The curse seems to be tied more to the body than directly to the soul—or at least, to the physical ring,” Shen Qingqiu says. “This one can’t remove the ring, but if—”

“Please don’t say you’ll cut your hand or finger off Shizun, this Binghe cannot bear it,” Luo Binghe responds quickly, worried his master is going to mention maiming himself to remove the curse.

“Oh, that might work too. No, this master has a spare body growing in the case of his death. This one could simply die and wake up in that body, no more ring no more curse!” Shen Qingqiu says simply. Luo Binghe’s stomach drops, and he feels chilled to the bone.

“Shizun!” Luo Binghe says, utterly horrified. He’d much rather the maiming! “Shizun can’t die! This disciple couldn’t survive such a thing!”

“Oh don’t be silly Binghe, it wouldn’t be permanent,” Shen Qingqiu huffs.

“Shizun, I do not know how to stress further that I am not being silly by asking you to please not die in order to lift this curse,” Luo Binghe says firmly. “Shizun. This disciple cannot endure it, please. Please don’t do that to me.”

Shen Qingqiu blinks in surprise, as if it hasn’t occurred to him in the slightest that his death would be painful for Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe’s heart feels like it’s going to break at the mere thought. He inhales shakily, leaning forward until his head rests against Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder again. A hesitant hand reaches up to gently stroke his hair and he sighs.

“Please Shizun, what if something went wrong? This disciple—I can’t lose you again,” Luo Binghe whispers hoarsely. He feels sick to his stomach, and wraps his arms around his master despite himself. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t pull out of his arms, to his relief. “I can’t watch you die. Even if it’s only temporary. I can’t imagine anything worse in the world.”

“If you feel so strongly about this ol—huh. This o—really even that? Okay. If Binghe feels so strongly about this, then I won’t do that,” Shen Qingqiu says. He scritches Luo Binghe’s scalp, and Luo Binghe feels the tension bleed out of himself. “This master will still keep that body—as a failsafe! Just in case something happens. Here, let me show you a map so you know where to find this master if the worst should happen.”

It doesn’t do much to quell the queasy feeling in Luo Binghe’s stomach, but he knows that Shen Qingqiu isn’t lying at least. In this moment, anyway, he won’t make a decision to hurt himself just to lift this curse. Luo Binghe heaves a soft sigh, and tightens his hold on his master. Shen Qingqiu tuts softly, but only runs his fingers through his hair. Luo Binghe has a feeling he’ll let him stay there for a while, and he will shamelessly abuse that if it means he doesn’t have to think about why Shen Qingqiu would have a failsafe like that in the first place.

Chapter Text

【 SHEN QINGQIU 】

Ah! If at all possible, it seems as if Luo Binghe has only gotten stickier. Even through their lunch, he clings to Shen Qingqiu like a limpet. He continues to do so after Shen Qingqiu pulls out the large map he and Shang Qinghua had used. It still baffles him a little that Luo Binghe would feel so strongly about Shen Qingqiu would have a temporary death. He doesn’t think his disciple is lying in the slightest either—oh he knows in his head that Binghe could be lying about everything. This could all be a terribly cruel trick, but… Shen Qingqiu can’t help but think that he isn't. Ever since seeing him at the sword mound…

No, Luo Binghe isn’t lying to him. For some reason he truly feels that strongly about watching his shizun die. Wonder of wonders! Here, Shen Qingqiu had been afraid that he would still be torn limb from limb, and Luo Binghe couldn’t even handle the thought of him losing a single finger! Ah well, it probably isn’t that easy anyway—cutting off body parts that is. And Shen Qingqiu truly will do all he can to avoid most discomforts. If he can avoid dying then he’ll avoid dying, no skin off his back!

“If push comes to shove and you’re struggling to find this area—not that you will because you can find anything you set your mind to—just seek out your Shang-shishu. He and I were working on this together,” Shen Qingqiu says, patting Luo Binghe on top of the head after he points out where the mushroom bodies are on the map. Luo Binghe’s eyes are thoughtful as he looks over the map, even clinging to Shen Qingqiu like he is, Shen Qingqiu can see the brilliance behind those eyes.

“Why does Shizun trust him so much?” Luo Binghe asks—and damn, there’s that red System window again.

Losing points is bad enough System! You don’t have to add the incentive of making it hurt! Shen Qingqiu already knows that he’s not supposed to be saying too much, it’s not his fault that he’s cursed!

“Your Shang-shishu?” Shen Qingqiu asks, stalling. Luo Binghe nods and Shen Qingqiu clears his throat. “We come from…. Actually I’m not sure exactly where your shishu comes from. But we ah. We came from the same... area as… before this master was in Cang Qiong.”

This is fucking difficult! He speaks slowly and carefully around things that he can’t really divulge, which of course just highlights the fact that he’s hiding something! Luo Binghe has been an absolute dear, if only because he hasn’t pushed Shen Qingqiu to spill what it is he isn’t saying in these situations. But he can see the curiosity blazing in those dark eyes and knows that it’s just piling on suspicion after suspicion onto his own head.

“This master was privy to some of his writing in the past, and was a frequent critic of his work. Truly depraved writing of the worst sort, utter shit in word form—I cannot believe that someone has ever thought to write such trash in my life. Plot holes everywhere! Hooks that are left dangling without following up on them! AND FOR WHAT!? PORN! PORN BINGHE! AN ABSURD AMOUNT OF TERRIBLY WRITTEN PORN!”

Luo Binghe is staring at him in stunned surprise. Shen Qingqiu realizes—very quickly—that his passions for how he felt about PIDW had clearly overridden his caution before and taken the reigns! His poser image just keeps getting more and more tattered! At this rate, he’ll be lucky if Luo Binghe wants to be around him just because he’s a weird shut-in posing as an immortal master! Not an interesting guy.

“Apologies, this master feels strongly about your Shang-shishu’s inability to write well,” Shen Qingqiu says, eyes darting away. He feels Luo Binghe’s chest start shaking with laughter at that, and he turns to look over at his disciple, utterly scandalized. “Binghe! I can’t help it.”

“I know Shizun, I know,” Luo Binghe chuckles, pressing his face against Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder. “I just always knew that Shizun had strong opinions about literature. I never realized how much he was holding back before.”

“It’s unbecoming—don’t laugh! It is!” Shen Qingqiu snaps, embarrassed.

“This disciple thinks this side of Shizun is also good,” Luo Binghe says fondly. He looks up, and Shen Qingqiu is suddenly hyper aware of just how close Luo Binghe is to his face while clinging to him. His heart does a really weird flip. What if—it would be very easy for Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu to just…

Terrified of that particular train of thought, Shen Qingqiu almost launches himself out of his disciple’s grip. It clearly startles Luo Binghe, because he does get away—like a cat squirming to escape the grasp after being overstimulated. Shen Qingqiu is aware that his face feels like it’s on fire, and he is very actively avoiding whatever it was before that he wants to think about. He will let himself think about how Luo Binghe makes him feel when it’s safe to do so after this curse is lifted.

And he isn’t looking further into the fact that he needs to wait until then to do so! You can’t trick him truth curse! Fuck off!

“In any case, this master has a plan to find the merchant,” Shen Qingqiu says, clearing his throat and trying to ignore the slightly wounded look on Luo Binghe’s face.

“What is Shizun’s idea?” Luo Binghe asks, sounding oddly cowed.

Shen Qingqiu can’t bear it. He walks back over to pat his disciple on the head—thankfully the man perks up after that. Good! He doesn’t have to say anything embarrassing to patch things up. Just give his Binghe a few pats and things will be just fine!

“There is a creature called the Plum Blossom Bear Hound,” Shen Qingqiu says. “A massive canid with an incredible sense of smell—a sense so strong that it can track spiritual and demonic energy itself. They’re peaceful creatures, and very intelligent. If we can find one and barter with it for something it may like, then we should be able to ask it to find the merchant who cursed this master.”

“Shizun knows what these beasts would like to trade?” Luo Binghe asks.

“Mn, what they love more than anything is gossip,” Shen Qingqiu can’t help but chuckle at the way Luo Binghe’s brow arches. He pats his disciple on the head again, but leaves his hand on his head to run his fingers through his hair. Binghe’s hair really is very soft, it’s irresistible and Shen Qingqiu has missed it far too much. “Gossip and stories that is. We just let them know some goings ons, tell them a story they enjoy, and we’ll be able to get at least one of them to assist. Binghe has many stories I’m sure, and if needed this master has a few tales to tell.”

Though truly, his life hasn’t been as interesting as Binghe’s! Especially with the Abyss. Though, Shen Qingqiu has a hard time thinking of those as just fun stories. He finds himself becoming somewhat pensive as he runs his fingers through Binghe’s curls, trying to undo some of the snarls that he finds in there.

“Where do we find them?” Luo Binghe asks, and he actually leans his head into Shen Qingqiu’s hand in a way that reminds him of a dog. Shen Qingqiu chuckles despite himself, scritching at his disciple’s scalp fondly. He has to resist the urge to tickle his chin as well, with Binghe’s head tilted up so that he can look at him. Ah, he truly is beautiful like this… well. He’s always beautiful.

“Bailu Forest,” Shen Qingqiu says softly. The look in Luo Binghe’s eyes is making his heart race and suddenly he feels a little breathless. He clears his throat, dropping his hand from Luo Binghe’s hair and opening his fan. “It’ll help that you were recently close with them, though we will have to be cautious since they were apparently looking for this master.”

“Does Shizun wish to go now?” Luo Binghe asks, glancing out the window. The sun has made its way through the sky, they’re well into the afternoon by now. Shen Qingqiu waves the suggestion off gently.

“No, even with Xin Mo, we’ll likely need to search the forest to find a Plum Blossom Bear Hound,” Shen Qingqiu says with a soft sigh. “If we go now we’ll likely have to camp at least once and this master would prefer to avoid doing so.”

He was a spoiled second gen rich kid in his past life okay!? He doesn’t like camping!

“Of course Shizun,” Luo Binghe says. His disciple stands up in one smooth motion, and Shen Qingqiu is reminded that Luo Binge is taller than him now. He tilts his head slightly to meet Binghe’s eyes, and Luo Binghe gives him a smile. “This disciple will prepare for if we must camp, but we’ll find the Plum Blossom Bear Hound before it becomes an issue.”

“Ah, good boy Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says. Luo Binghe practically glows with the praise, and Shen Qingqiu huffs softly despite himself. Ah! Maybe his lotus isn’t blackened entirely. Shen Qingqiu can’t help his small smile. “This master will brush up on his knowledge of the Plum Blossom Bear Hound, just to make sure there’s nothing he’s forgetting about its habitat and information.”

At this, the two of them break—though they don’t leave the same room. Shen Qingqiu sends for Ming Fan again, asking for several books from Qing Jing’s library. Then, as it is want to do when one is focused on study, the time seems to fly while they focus. Whenever Luo Binghe does need to leave the room, Shen Qingqiu simply moves to keep a similar distance between them. He doesn’t mind being chilly, but he isn’t comfortable with being cold.

It becomes apparent after a few hours of this that the distance is growing shorter at a significant pace. Shen Qingqiu realizes that he has to remain just under two meters of length close to Luo Binghe to avoid significant discomfort. Another two meters or so from that causes the cold to make him shiver as if he’s stepped out of the home in the dead of winter without cultivation. He doesn’t push it past that.

Luo Binghe catches onto this around the same time that Shen Qingqiu does. His disciple has moved on from packing most of the supplies to making dinner and snacks for their trip tomorrow. But Shen Qingqiu sees him watching him as his master tests out the distance between them.

“This master is worried,” Shen Qingqiu mutters, “At this point we’re going to have to be shoulder to shoulder walking through the forest tomorrow.”

“This disciple doesn’t mind!” Luo Binghe says cheerily, though there is still worry on his face the idea seems to have inexplicably perked him up. Shen Qingqiu huffs and takes a seat on the cushion Luo Binghe had offered earlier during lunch and pulls the book he’s been reading.

“It could be worse,” Shen Qingqiu concedes softly, “If this master has to be stuck close to anyone, he’d rather it be Binghe.”

There’s a clatter as Luo Binghe drops something, making Shen Qingqiu’s head snap up. He feels a flood of embarrassment at his words, and Luo Binghe hurriedly picks up the utensil he dropped off of the floor before getting a clean one. “Sorry Shizun, this disciple is clumsy.”

Shen Qingqiu figures he must be—but Shen Qingqiu himself is surprised by his shameless words. True, he’s missed Luo Binghe terribly since he’s left, but until a few hours ago he thought Binghe was going to kill him! Yet… well, now it is definitely the truth. Otherwise he wouldn’t have said it.

He really is grateful that, of all the people in this ridiculous novel world he lives in now, it is Luo Binghe that he’s been tied to. He likes spending time with Luo Binghe—he’s missed this quiet ease that settles between them. Co-existing together like it’s how things are meant to be.

His chest feels very warm suddenly, and his throat feels tight. A conflicting mix of guilt and relief seems to rush through him—guilt that he ever separated Luo Binghe from his side. Relief that Luo Binghe has chosen to return to him, even after the way that Shen Qingqiu treated him. It’s far more than he deserves.

Shen Qinqiu struggles to focus on his book after this thought occurs to him. His eyes rift up to Luo Binghe often, to his broad shoulders and the focused look on his face as he cooks. Things are the same, and yet they are so different. Shouldn’t Shen Qingqiu be encouraging his disciple to do other things when their quest has been completed?

Ah—maybe he should, but he knows he’ll have to wait. Shen Qingqiu… doesn’t want Luo Binghe to leave after this is all done. The idea makes a foreign ache settle in his chest.

“Shizun?” Luo Binghe asks, “Are you okay?”

“Ah—I’m thinking of how much I missed you Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says before he can stop himself. His face reddens. Really Shen Qingqiu! He doesn’t deserve to have missed Binghe so much, stop bringing that up! Luo Binghe stares at him, and Shen Qingqiu clears his throat. “This master would like for Binghe to spend some time with—”

“Of course!” Luo Binghe interrupts before Shen Qingqiu can even finish his embarrassing request. “This Binghe will always be happy to be near his shizun.”

“Good! Good,” Shen Qingqiu says, trying to ignore the warmth in his cheeks. Really Shen Qingqiu, this is your disciple! He just wants to spend time with his master! The one that pushed him into literal hell.

Shen Qingqiu suddenly wants to push that—why is Binghe so forgiving? Why is he so willing to overlook the terrible thing that Shen Qingqiu did to him? Shen Qingqiu struggles to wrap his head around that, but he doesn’t doubt that Binghe is telling him the truth. 

He opens his mouth to ask when Binghe says, “Dinner is ready Shizun!”

Shen Qingqiu lets it lie there, a little grateful for the interruption. Later, perhaps, unless he gets the curse lifted first. He doesn’t think he’ll have the face to say this when he’s not cursed after all!

The two of them make their way out to the table—Luo Binghe insists on carrying the tray by himself with no help at all. Shen Qingqiu huffs a little as he waits by the door for a moment so that Luo Binghe can also fetch the teapot. Then, he sits down on the cushion and Luo Binghe serves him his meal. The braised pork is, of course, heavenly, and paired with the rise and stir-fried greens it is the most complete meal he’s had in months. He doesn’t pay attention to the fact that he starts feeling a little stuffed until he’s cleaned his plate though, humming in delight.

“Fantastic as always Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu praises. “This master wishes he could show off your skill more—ah, but that means less food for him…”

Luo Binghe laughs, leaning over the table, “Shizun likes this Binghe’s food that much?”

“Of course! You’re the best cook in all the realms Binghe, for one. For another, I didn’t get to eat food like this before. All the dietary restrictions I had made it difficult to really enjoy food without worrying about falling ill,” Shen Qingqiu says a little in remembering his old body. The worst is that the food issues had gradually worsened. It felt like every year he added more foods to his no-go list. He still wonders what American cheeseburgers taste like, they look delicious…

“This disciple didn’t now that,” Luo Binghe says, “Did it get better after you cultivated?”

Shen Qingqiu realizes, with a jolt, that he’s said more than he should have. He opens his mouth and then carefully responds, “Once this master had cultivation it was no longer an issue.”

The ring seems to burn with cold at that. It doesn’t seem to like half-truths, but he almost tripped right into pissing the System off! One hurts him one way, the other hurts him the other way—just how is this fair huh!? Let a guy live his goddamn life!

【 Reminding user to be more cautious with what he brings up as topics at all! This tip from the System is free and costs no B-points! 】

Do you have any better tips? Shen Qingqiu asks it, then adds mentally, Actually. Do you have tips that don’t involve what I’m already doing or we’ve already figured out?

【 … This System will refrain from current offers of other tips then.】

Scamming System! Was it really going to charge him for something he and Luo Binghe had already figured out on their own!? For fuck’s sake. He focuses on the tea he’s drinking after his meal, trying to ignore both the System and Luo Binghe’s look of curiosity. The evening is still warm, and Shen Qingqiu can hear the tinkling of the wind chimes that Ning Yingying had set up outside of his door the first year that Shen Qingqiu was on the peak. His eyes drift closed.

“Shizun, this disciple apologizes but he needs to clean up after dinner,” Luo Binghe says softly.

“Don’t apologize Binghe, it’s fine,” Shen Qingqiu stands and—knowing full well that Luo Binghe won’t allow him to help—trails after his disciple like he’s his new shadow. If anyone were to look on this from the outside they’d think that Shen Qingqiu was the sticky one! 

After dinner has been cleaned up, Shen Qingqiu pulls out his qin and gestures for Binghe to follow him. Luo Binghe obediently does so, and Shen Qingqiu sets the instrument up to play. It’s been a long time since he played for more than just practice, but he’s in a good mood this evening. Cursed or not, he’s—for some reason—forgiven by his favorite person again. Since he is deciding not to open that topic up for discussion considering his current state, he is relieved to have Binghe with him once more.

Ah, he’ll be sad when Binghe leaves to do the rest of his tale of conquest though! 

“This master is curious,” he says to Binghe, after he’s tuned the qin. “There are many cultivation sects that work with music—he’s been studying some of the scores of one willing to share. He knows that Xin Mo can… take a toll on its users, does Binghe feel comfortable with this Master playing something that may help?”

“...this Binghe trusts Shizun,” Luo Binghe responds neutrally. He is watching Shen Qingqiu closely as Shen Qingqiu’s fingers hover over the strings.

Really he’d planned on giving this song to Ning Yingying and teaching it to her—he isn’t sure it can do anything to help, but he knows it won’t hurt. He plucks the strings in a song that spreads clear notes into the evening air. Luo Binghe slowly relaxes next to him, and Shen Qingqiu is aware of his disciple’s focus on the music. Shen Qingqiu continues playing, infusing his qi into the notes so that they are more than just a simple song.

When it comes to an end, Luo Binghe exhales shakily.

“It’s still present, but this Binghe did feel better while the song was playing,” Luo Binghe says. “What is it?”

“Cleansing,” Shen Qingqiu says, “A Purification song from the Lan Clan of Gusu. This master isn’t sure if they have something stronger, but this can settle the heart and aid in avoiding qi deviations. It may take playing over time to be of use, but it is possible that it will make it so that Binghe can be more discerning in the way he slakes the blade’s thirst.”

“Did Shizun learn this song because of Xin Mo?” Luo Binghe asks in surprise.

“Yes,” Shen Qingqiu answers before he can catch himself. His head snaps up to stare at Luo Binghe and he sees the question there. Shen Qingqiu swallows thickly, hoping that his disciple won’t push. His desperation must show on his face, Luo Binghe slowly looks down at the qin and purses his lips but says nothing more. “Binghe, I’m sorry.”

Luo Binghe glances up at him, and then forces something of a smile. Shen Qingqiu heaves a tired sigh as he follows his disciple from the porch to put the qin away again. He hesitates as he realizes what lies before the two of them and does not know what the hell he is going to do.

Where the hell is Luo Binghe going to sleep!?

The distance between the side room and his bed is too far to avoid being chilled to the bone and possibly freezing while asleep. Which means that he’ll have to let Binghe share a room with him. Not only that, but Shen Qingqiu hasn’t been able to bathe thanks to the whole thing running around the other day. His eyebrow begins twitching, is he meant to bathe with Binghe standing right there?! He can’t!

“Shizun, this disciple sees that someone has already prepared a bath,” Luo Binghe says (somewhat sulkily) from near the bathing chamber. Shen Qingqiu’s head snaps up and his disciple clears his throat. “This disciple can stay behind the screen while Shizun gets clean.”

“Ah! Of course!” Shen Qingqiu says, a little too loudly. “But that—you’ll have to look away while I remove my clothes.”

Luo Binghe nods, somewhat jerkily. This is so painfully awkward! The two of them move to where the tub is, the water still warm with steam curling above the surface of the water. The oils in the bath are familiar and Shen Qingqiu sighs as he steps behind the screen. Luo Binghe follows behind him, his eyes focused on the ground and his face distinctly pink. Ah protagonist! Shen Qingqiu knows this is embarrassing! Luo Binghe would certainly prefer a beauty to be the one he spent time near while they bathed after all!

Apologizing in his heart to the protagonist for his sins, Shen Qingqiu begins to undress as soon as Binghe’s back is to him. He’s hyper aware of his own nudity as he does so, and something is making his heart race uncomfortably because of that. He forces himself not to run for the tub, envisioning how embarrassing it would be if he tripped and brained himself on the corner of the tub.

Even with Binghe behind the screen, he sinks into the water and lets out a relieved sigh. It’s in his nature to want to relax into the tub—especially after several busy days. However, he pushes himself to get clean as quickly as possible. The longest bit is putting the oils in his hair, and he grumbles under his breath the entire time. It makes him feel a touch better, but damn he misses when he had short hair. At least that was easy to keep clean and style!

“Make sure you aren’t looking,” Shen Qingqiu says to Luo Binghe, and his disciple makes a strange noise of agreement. Shen Qingqiu steps back behind the screen, and after making sure he’s dried himself enough he dresses into some inner robes for sleep. “There, thank you for your patience Binghe.”

Luo Binghe nods very quickly, and his face is very nearly red now. Shen Qingqiu suddenly wants badly to tease his poor disciple, and he chuckles as he leans closer to Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe jolts slightly, looking at him in surprise.

“Binghe’s blushing,” Shen Qingqiu chuckles, and he dares to reach up to pinch his cheek again. They’re not as round and squishy as they used to be, but it’s still very satisfying to touch the protagonist’s pretty face.

“Shizun…” Luo Binghe says, eyes round and somewhat tearful. Ah, he looks so bullied!

“It’s alright Binghe, this master is just used to you having a thicker face,” Shen Qingqiu pats Binghe’s curls. His disciple relaxes minutely, “Does Binghe need a bath as well? This master can ask for them to get fresh bathwater…”

“This disciple doesn’t mind using Shizun’s,” Luo Binghe says quickly. “Since Shizun is waiting.”

To Shen Qingqiu’s shock, Luo Binghe starts undressing and Shen Qingqiu has to look away very quickly. Luo Binghe pauses in his movements then he hears his disciple laugh, and Shen Qingqiu is suddenly very aware that Luo Binghe’s closer to him. His disciple radiates heat—or is that the curse? It’s hard to tell.

“Shizun’s the one blushing now,” Luo Binghe says softly, and his voice sounds so low. Shen Qingqiu’s face gets even hotter, and he has to resist the urge to dive for his fan. It sits tantalizingly close, on top of his neatly folded robes that Binghe must have set aside for laundry later. Instead he stands very still as Binghe laughs and then steps away to continue preparing for his bath.

Shen Qingqiu thought he’d been hyper aware while he was bathing, but something about the sound of Luo Binghe slipping into the water behind that screen makes Shen Qingqiu feel nervous. He can’t explain why, he’s very nearly feeling flustered and has the intense desire to flee this situation. At least Binghe isn’t here to see him grab his fan like a lifeline. Shen Qingqiu plays with it and tries not to think about the fact that the full grown protagonist is just a screen away. Bathing. Naked.

Well most people bathed naked! Of course!

The worst, most flustering part, is that part of Shen Qingqiu is terribly curious. He can’t peek! He won’t be a creeper about his disciple! But surely Binghe must look a sight with water dripping off of his toned muscles? And the heavenly pillar—stop! Stop thinking about this! He isn’t equipped with the ability to talk himself out of thinking about things too deeply right now! Have mercy subconscious.

“Shizun?” Luo Binghe’s voice startles him, and before he can think he turns his head and catches a glimpse of smooth, wet skin. Shen Qingqiu snaps his head to look the other way and hides his face behind his fan. Nevermind that Binghe is behind him! He’s hiding from the whole world at this point! “This disciple needs a towel.”

“O-of course!” Shen Qingqiu squeaks the words, to his utter mortification. He staunchly refuses to address that as he rushes to get a towel for his disciple and hold it backwards. His hand brushes against hard, wet muscle and he feels Binghe laugh. Shen Qingqiu’s brain short circuits, and between that point and a few moments later he doesn’t even know what is happening. He pulls his hand to the front of him and stares at it, feeling stunned.

“Is Shizun okay?” Luo Binghe prompts, stepping into his vision and thankfully more dressed now. Granted, he’s still in his inner robes, and though they’d be wearing far less in his own world, Shen Qingqiu has become used to the modesty of this one.

“I touched your tits,” Shen Qingqiu says dazedly. Horror rushes through him and he shuts his mouth so fast that his teeth clack together. Shen Qingqiu stares up at Binghe with wide eyes. 

System.

【 User? 】

Kill me.

【 Apologies user, this System can only remove the host from the world or enact punishments when they have been triggered by the host as a result of point loss or abuse of the System rules. 】

“My… ‘tits’,” Luo Binghe repeats, sounding a cross between amused and bewildered.

“Don’t repeat it! Just forget I said it!” Shen Qingqiu snaps, and he almost runs for the bedroom. His face is far too thin for this! He’s going to die of sheer humiliation now. He touched Binghe’s tits!? Why did he say it, and like that!?

Of course he knows why, he’s just utterly horrified with himself!

“But Shizun—” Luo Binghe starts.

“No! Shush!” Shen Qingqiu orders, slamming the door to his room shut so hard that it bounces in the frame back open. He tries to shut it again, only for Binghe to catch it and slide it open with a soft huff.

“Shizun, this disciple needs to stay in here so you don’t get cold,” Luo Binghe points out.

…

Fuck!

“Ah… of course,” Shen Qingqiu says. He opens his mouth to say he’ll take the floor, when Luo Binghe picks him up . He’s pressed against that firm chest that he felt earlier, and he braces himself automatically against Binghe to balance. When his palm touches warm skin, Shen Qingqiu jerks his hand away like he’s been scalded and squawks, “B-B-Binghe!?”

“Shizun, the distance the curse lets you travel away from me is getting smaller and smaller. We have to share, otherwise you might freeze to death,” Luo Binghe says with a pout, setting Shen Qingqiu on the bed. Bafflingly, the man follows him up onto it, and Shen Qingqiu feels like his brain is utterly scrambled at this point. He’s flustered because he touched Luo Binghe’s chest then called it his tits already, but now he’s sharing a bed with the protagonist!?

“I-I-I,” Shen Qingqiu is going to break at this point. He hides behind the shelter of his fan and tries to slow his breathing. He’s aware that the bed is shaking slightly, it takes him a moment to realize that Luo Binghe is laughing at him! “Binghe!”

“I’m sorry Shizun,” Luo Binghe says, bursting into laughter. He doesn’t sound sorry in the slightest. He waves a hand, and the room is plunged into darkness. Shen Qingqiu opens his mouth to say more, but he’s being moved around so that the blankets cover him and so that Binghe rests at his back. “This way this disciple won’t worry about his Shizun tonight.”

“Ah. Of course,” Shen Qingqiu croaks, he’s stiff as a board but Luo Binghe settles where he lays. As his racing mind runs its course—several times honestly—Shen Qingqiu finds the tension leaving his body. It’s not like Binghe is going to do anything to him. He’s got—well he doesn’t have women right now. Still, he can’t be interested in Shen Qingqiu.

Even if this whole comedy of errors today has been very sexually charged…

Not thinking about it! Repress!

Despite everything, Shen Qingqiu is really very tired. He begins to drift and then he feels Luo Binghe’s arms wrap around him. Shen Qingqiu thinks he could probably pull away—maybe even should—but he stays very still before relaxing again. A soft sigh ruffles the little hairs on the back of Shen Qingqiu’s neck, sending a tingly feeling down his spine. Still, he finds himself leaning back into the warmth.

“Shizun?” Luo Binghe murmurs, voice soft as if he is almost asleep.

“Mm?” Shen Qingqiu responds, fighting to stay awake to hear whatever his disciple wishes to ask.

“Did you truly miss this disciple?” Luo Binghe whispers. As if he’s afraid to ask the question.

“Very much,” Shen Qingqiu murmurs, and he takes Binghe’s hand in his own. He twines their fingers together, too drowsy to care about the intimacy of that. Of what it must look like with the two of them in his bed right now. “This master never wants to lose Binghe ever again.”

A soft sound, like a sob, comes from Binghe at that. Then he feels the barest of pressures on top of his head and hears, “I missed Shizun too. So so much.”

If Shen Qingqiu weren’t so tired, if he didn’t know better, he’d think that Luo Binghe had just kissed the top of his head. But before the thought can truly take shape in his mind he finally is dragged under and into sleep.

Chapter Text

【 LUO BINGHE 】

When Luo Binghe wakes that morning he feels more calm than he has felt in years. Ever since the Abyss it has been hard to truly rest, like a part of his brain simply returns to turn off. Understandable, considering that not being able to wake at a moment’s notice meant agony in the Abyss. Possible death. He learned quickly that resting is best done with one eye open—or at the least, with a dream demon keeping an eye on things so that he can immediately launch into a fight if needed.

It is with a queer sort of peace that he comes to that morning though. The haze of sleep is heavier than usual, a weight that wants to pull him back under. He can hear the distant trill of bird song, and the soft musical tones of the wind chimes on the porch. Luo Binghe is warm, but not uncomfortably so, and he realizes something that does set his heartrate spiking from the languid pace it was before.

Shen Qingqiu has turned in the night and lies with his head tucked under Luo Binghe’s chin. His soft breaths warm the skin on Luo Binghe’s neck—it tickles and makes his heart itch in a way he can’t possibly articulate. Shen Qingqiu has one arm draped loosely over Luo Binghe’s chest, the other has somehow ended up behind his head with the fingers gently tangled in his hair. To top it all off, Shen Qingqiu has one leg thrown over one of Luo Binghe’s—there are few ways they could be closer in this moment.

When Luo Binghe first came to the mountain, he thought that Shen Qingqiu was a god unto mortals. He was untouchable, distant and wrathful in the ways that the gods could be in old stories. His favor was difficult to earn, but he chose his favorites with seemingly little worry or care. It was surely fear that froze him in place with Shen Qingqiu in those early days of his training—but there had been a reverence to. 

Then the qi deviation happened, and his shizun became a little more human.

Maybe some would see this as falling out of faith with a person you once revered as a (somewhat capricious) god. Yet the humanity that shown through with that lofty immortal—a small smile in a carriage, a simple mistake on a night hunt—shone brighter than any godliness that Luo Binghe felt his master had. It held true when the man became poisoned, and held true for all the little human moments he discovered living with him for the years.

To Luo Binghe, those moments where he gets a glimpse of the good and kind master behind his mask, are the moments where he falls more and more for him. Worship is a trifle thing, but love? Oh, Luo Binghe knows that love can be far stronger. He had lost all faith in Shen Qingqiu, when he was in the Abyss—but he had still loved him. Even at the depths of his despair, that love had persisted.

He is struck by how human his shizun is, pressed up to him like this. It is a sight that Luo Binghe covets immediately. He wants every morning to be like this. To wake with Shen Qingqiu in his arms, or with him wrapped around him as though afraid that Luo Binghe will disappear in his sleep. He feels wanted, in this moment. And there is a heady excitement that comes with his master being this close to him in the morning. Completely unguarded and utterly beautiful.

Shen Qingqiu murmurs something, breaking Luo Binghe out of his thoughts, and nuzzles closer to Luo Binghe’s neck. As he does, Luo Binghe becomes aware of something that makes his brain blank out for a moment, his heart stutters in his throat.

His master is hard.

This isn’t a surprising or unnatural thing. In fact, it falls in line with the whole thing he had been waxing poetic about earlier—his master is, after all, human. It still makes Luo Binghe’s mouth go dry, and he has to focus on his bloodmites for a moment to make sure he doesn’t show his own interest in this situation. It makes him think of the night before, the flustered nature of his master’s attentions had been addicting to Luo Binghe. It sang to him as clearly as if Shen Qingqiu had outright spoken the words—his Shizun finds Luo Binghe attractive.

Take him—make him yours. Feel him around you, stuff him full of—  

Xin Mo’s voice sounds far away—shouted through muffled layers. He’d be concerned over it, but his control over himself (and thus the blade) is significantly better than usual. The words are easier to shrug away and to parse from his own desires. So he takes pity on his master, and gently pries Shen Qingqiu off of him. Thankfully, Shen Qingqiu does not properly stir until he’s settled his master back into the blankets. Slender fingers wrap around Luo Binghe’s wrist and a grumbling noise comes from his shizun’s sleep-hoarse throat, “Binghe? Go back to sleep.”

Luo Binghe feels his heart soften and ache in equal measure. He leans down, and has to fight so very hard to not press his lips against the warm skin of Shen Qingqiu’s cheek. “Begging this disciple’s forgiveness, but we need to get up to hunt the Plum Blossom Bear Hound.”

“Mmf,” Shen Qingqiu says quietly, nuzzling into his blankets but cracking open a bleary eye at him. Oh, he loves his master at all times but like this he is a special treat. He hopes, dearly, that this will not be the last time he is allowed to see him like this. A soft sigh escapes Shen Qingqiu, “Fine, fine.”

Luo Binghe steps away, watching Shen Qingqiu closely for any signs of cold or pain, in order to bring out some robes for his master to prepare. Shen Qingqiu does shiver a little bit, seeming to wake up a bit more and Luo Binghe can’t help but frown. The circle of distance they can keep to is getting smaller and smaller.

While he doesn’t speak it aloud to his master, he won’t deny that a small part of him is pleased to have Shen Qingqiu stuck close to his side. Luo Binghe would gladly spend the rest of his days attached to his master—but he will admit that this is growing inconvenient. It is hard for Luo Binghe to pamper Shen Qingqiu if his master must trail after him when he goes from room to room. Shen Qingqiu is a man who seems to enjoy his time in repose, and Luo Binghe wishes he could at least cook them a hot breakfast without dragging his drowsy shizun from his bed.

Once he helps to lift the curse, surely Shen Qingqiu will let him remain?

He pushes the doubt out of his mind when he turns and finds that Shen Qingqiu is watching him with open fondness on his face. This aspect of the curse he will absolutely miss. It has never been more easy to read the expression on his master’s face, and while he has taught himself the nuances of his usual emotions, he will be sad to let this go. His own face heats under the warmth of Shen Qingqiu’s gaze, and his shizun seems to catch himself at the same moment. He watches Shen Qingqiu shake himself from his stupor and rise from the bed.

Luo Binghe helps his master dress for the day, pulling on sumptuous green robes for him—these are embroidered with white chrysanthemums and the green is a warmer green than his usual teal-greens. They look lovely though, and as Luo Binghe slides a pin into place to keep his master’s guan in his hair, he can’t help but admire the beauty of the man that he has fallen in love with.

“What is this master’s disciple doing, staring like that?” Shen Qingqiu asks, flicking open a fan that he has chosen from one of the many on their stands. This is one Luo Binghe has painted in the past, depicting a stylized picture of the Bamboo House at a distance. 

“This disciple’s master is beautiful,” Luo Binghe says with shamelessness. Even with the fan up, he catches sight of the tips of his master’s ears growing pink. He found out the day prior that his Shizun can blush far more than he thought possible. There was a brief moment that he had been concerned that Shen Qingqiu might get dizzy from all the blood rushing to his head.

“Th—you just—you can’t—Binghe!” Shen Qingqiu sputters, flustered. His master turns and storms out of the room and Luo Binghe has to catch up to him to avoid his shizun getting too cold. He can’t help the smile on his face, but when Shen Qingqiu looks at him he forces himself to look somewhat contrite. “Save that for your future wives.”

“This disciple isn’t courting any women,” Luo Binghe reminds his master, but Shen Qingqiu seems to choose to ignore that in favor of going to where their things have been set up. Luo Binghe takes a moment to dress himself quickly, aware that Shen Qingqiu follows him slightly to stay within the distance they need to keep.

If a small part of him hopes his master will take a little peek while he dresses—well. He’ll have mercy on his shizun and keep that to himself for now.

By the time they are both ready to go the morning has properly gotten underway. Luo Binghe insists on his shizun eating at least some of the snacks he’s made as he pulls out Xin Mo. With a casual slash in the air, a portal yawns open. The blade’s influence still feels distant, his mind clear despite using its power.

Incredible, that his shizun searched for something to help him control the blade. It is a question he longs to ask, but it has been added to the list of questions that have been forbidden. For now, at least. Perhaps later. He holds out a hand and Shen Qingqiu shoots him a look before stepping through the portal without taking it. Luo Binghe tries hard not to feel a little snubbed about it—his master is a proud man, after all.

He follows after Shen Qingqiu and the portal closes behind them. The lush forest around them is loud with birdsong and the sound of living things rustling in the trees. Shen Qingqiu is looking around thoughtfully, as though trying to gain his bearings as to wear they are.

“About seven li from Bai Lu Mountain,” Luo Binghe says, sheathing Xin Mo at his side and pointing in the direction the mountain would lie.

“Good boy,” Shen Qingqiu says, and somewhat absently reaches up. Luo Binghe dutifully dips his head down so that Shen Qingqiu can give him a headpat, and Luo Binghe’s heart soars at that simple contact. His earlier hurt over not holding his shizun’s hand has been entirely forgiven, if only for this brief moment of contact. “The Plum Blossom Bear Hound are said to make their dens to the south of the mountain. They’ll want to be somewhere with a cave system that can be guarded against predators and cultivators alike.”

“That makes sense,” Luo Binghe says, privately enjoying the way his master’s eyes light up as he talks about the creatures. He wonders if he can convince his shizun to visit the demon realm with him—there are many a rare creature that never steps into the realm of mortals after all. He privately shelves the ideas for later, “This disciple’s shizun has a way to track them?”

“Mn,” Shen Qingqiu responds, reaching into his wide sleeves to pull out a talisman. “Plum Blossom Bear Hounds are omnivorous by nature but they love to eat a rare fruit that is abundant in spiritual energy. If we find the fruit, we find our creature—ah!”

The talisman flickers into a flame for a moment, before a dragonfly made of flickering spiritual energy rises into the air. It buzzes around the two of them once, the flaming wings do nothing to the foliage around the two of them. Shen Qingqiu is far too in control of his own qi for such a thing to happen. It lights on the tip of one of Shen Qingqiu’s fingers.

“Find me a Bleeding Hearts Plum Tree,” Shen Qingqiu murmurs. The wings of the dragonfly buzz again, and the creature lifts itself into the air to lazily dart away. Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe exchange a glance before the two of them begin to follow the creature through the woods.

“Shizun never taught this disciple such a technique,” Luo Binghe says thoughtfully. Partially by way of conversation. Shen Qingqiu nodded as he walked through the forest with him.

“Well—it’s sort of a Locate Plant or Animal spell. Though this master has yet to get it to work on an animal or creature at this point. When Airplane—your Shang-shishu—and I were looking for the Sun-Moon Dew Mushrooms I wasn’t too pleased with how much I had to rely on him,” Shen Qingqiu sighed heavily. “Your shishu is… not the most reliable in combat. This master wanted to be sure he could find any other herbs or parts that may be needed after switching to the new body. Hence this talisman and technique.”

“Shizun created this?” Luo Binghe asks, he can’t hide the admiration in his tone. Few cultivators invent techniques—some can be considered masters of them, others can adeptly use the technique. To create something new is no small feat. “This disciple’s shizun is truly without rival.”

“Hush you, I took inspiration from Dungeons and Dragons,” Shen Qingqiu says. Luo Binghe has no idea what that even means, but before he can ask his master is brushing beyond that. “This master noticed his disciple seems to be in a much better mood since playing Cleansing last night.”

“Mn, Xin Mo is much easier to manage,” Luo Binghe admits.

“Much better than… other methods to quell its thirst?” Shen Qingqiu ventures—his eyes dart away from Luo Binghe’s at the words. Luo Binghe tilts his head to one side, wondering again how much his master knows about the blade.

“This disciple is slow and does not know what his master is inferring,” Luo Binghe decides to say. If he cannot get Shen Qingqiu to outright admit why he knows more about the blade—and how he knew Luo Binghe would obtain it—then he will see how much Shen Qingqiu does know about it.

“Violence and sex predominantly,” Shen Qingqiu responds after a pause. Luo Binghe almost trips at the second, and he tries to peek at his master’s face to see if that fetching blush he was privy to (many times) the other night is there. Sadly, Shen Qingqiu’s fan is up, blocking his face below his eyes from view. “This master knows that it craves the blood of enemies and foes, but that to sate it a user can choose to use lust to calm its energy as well.”

“This disciple finds that the blood lust can be difficult to wrestle with,” Luo Binghe admits quietly. He thinks he feels Xin Mo’s thirst spike, but it is still a distant thing. Like it is able to hear Luo Binghe speak, but from the end of a very long hallway. “Killing does soothe it, somewhat, but only if it is a gratuitous amount of blood and death. This method can be easy to lose control of, this Binghe doesn’t wish to sully his master’s name by indulging in wanton murder.”

“What name would you have to sully?” Shen Qingqiu mutters, almost so quiet that Binghe can’t hear. “You’re a hero, I’m the one who—”

“Shizun thinks this disciple is a hero?” Luo Binghe can’t help but interrupt. He could kick himself for doing so. Whatever Shen Qingqiu had been about to say disappears with the new question. The man’s lips thin into a line and Shen Qingqiu nods at him. 

“Not ‘thinks’, this master knows what Binghe is,” Shen Qingqiu responds after a moment. He doesn’t elaborate, but the sheer fondness in his words makes Luo Binghe’s chest feel tight again. He can’t understand Shen Qingqiu sometimes. How could a man who is unable to hide his care for Luo Binghe throw him into the Abyss? “And about Xin Mo…”

“Shizun wants to know if Cleansing works as well as sex to calm it?” Luo Binghe asks, and Shen Qingqiu sputters as if he’s not the one who brought it up earlier. Luo Binghe can’t help but laugh at the scandalized look his master shoots him over the top of his fan. “This Binghe would not know Shizun, he has not been with another. Remember? He said he had no interest in courting another since leaving Qing Jing.”

“...Could it be that you have chosen to save yourself for only one?” Shen Qingqiu asks, and Luo Binghe blinks in surprise. His master is not a stupid man, but Luo Binghe has never met someone so blind to the affection that others hold for him. He almost opens his mouth to confirm when Shen Qingqiu’s brow furrows and he looks… almost sad as he murmurs, “Ning Yingying?”

That makes Luo Binghe almost choke.

“Shizun, no!” Luo Binghe cries, feeling terribly wronged that his master would think he has any feelings for his shijie. While it is true that he had the beginnings of a crush on her as a child, the shining light that is Shen Qingqiu had overtaken any flame in his heart he ever held for another! “This Binghe has no interest in Ning Yingying!”

“What!? But she’s—” Shen Qingqiu’s words cut off, not because he tries to cut himself off but because the air around them suddenly feels heavy with demonic energy.

As one, Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe draw their blades. Xiu Ya is light to the darkness of Xin Mo—the two blades are held out carefully before their masters as the two of them step closer to one another. Luo Binghe searches through the foliage carefully, and Shen Qingqiu seems to be doing the same on his end.

“Did you hear it?” Shen Qingqiu murmurs softly, and Luo Binghe feels his master gently touch his shoulder. Luo Binghe glances at his master and hears him softly murmur, “This master feels he’s heard that sound before…”

Just then, a sound like scales through underbrush catches Luo Binghe’s attention. Luo Binghe pulls Xin Mo back, the blade is enveloped in dark demonic qi in a heartbeat and he almost slashes it down when he feels Shen Qingqiu close his hand around his wrist. His master gives a small shake of his head, and Luo Binghe frowns before letting the energy around his blade sputter out and die.

“I know this… person,” Shen Qingqiu says after a hesitant pause. Then, folding his hands into his sleeves he steps forward and clears his throat. “Hello again, old friend. This master promises that he is not here to steal from you or encroach on your lands. There is a creature that he seeks for aid and nothing more.”

For a moment, nothing happens. Luo Binghe still hasn’t sheathed Xin Mo, and doesn’t plan to despite the staying hand of his master. Then, something that is not quite a man and not quite a snake slithers from the foliage. The creature seems to shy somewhat from even the dim light of the forest around them. It is enough to keep it from disappearing entirely though.

It is not a pretty creature. It reminds Luo Binghe somewhat of a drowned corse—its bloated features seem unable to fall on its more demonic or more humanoid heritage. Luo Binghe is grateful that his parents were both of the humanoid category. He isn’t sure how he’d feel if he looked like this wretched creature.

“There you are,” Shen Qingqiu says, bowing slightly. “Luo Binghe this is… ah, someone I encountered while looking for the Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom. I am not certain of their name, but they are intelligent and have caused no harm to local settlements. No need to cause injury in such a case.”

The wretched creature is swaying and staring at Luo Binghe with an expression that might be shock. It is entirely too difficult to tell. It draws a little closer to them, eyes fixed on Luo Binghe’s face. Luo Binghe raises an eyebrow at the snake-thing, and it stops in its advance toward them to look at Shen Qingqiu quizzically.

“This master will admit that he was concerned for you,” Shen Qingqiu says. He steps over to the creature with no regard for his own safety, but the snake-demon remains completely still. Shen Qingqiu looks him over and gives a nod of relief, “No recent injuries of any sort. This master did want to note though, as it seems you are a powerful demon, that there will need to be efforts taken in order for the mushroom to be able to house a demonic soul. Do you mind if this one takes a moment to fetch that from his pouch?”

“Shizun, you’re helping it?” Luo Binghe says—he feels a twinge of envy despite himself. He knows that it is Shen Qingqiu’s nature to be kind, but there is a part of him that wants desperately to hoard all that kindness for himself. Shen Qingqiu hums in answer to Luo Binghe’s question, pulling out a bound book and a bag. He steps closer to the snake demon.

“Do you know how to read?” Shen Qingqiu asks, and the snake demon nods, still looking stunned. “Good! Here, this master has written out some options to help optimize the mushroom for a demon’s soul. It may mean that the mushroom takes a touch longer to grow, but remember that rushing can cause issues.”

To Luo Binghe’s concern, he realizes that his master is gently undoing  the straps of the bag. The snake demon stays very still as Shen Qingqiu gently reties the straps of the gifted bag—which now holds that bound journal—around its neck. It is tight enough that it doesn’t slide down the creature’s strange mixture of skin and scales, and Shen Qingqiu nods as though satisfied.

“There! Once you are able to walk freely you are welcome to visit this master at Qing Jing Peak—ah, perhaps I should be cautious to extend that invitation. Wouldn’t want Liu-shidi to attack you,” Shen Qingqiu says, and he gently—absently—pats the strange snake-creature on the head. Luo Binghe is flooded with envy at that.

“Shizun!” He doesn’t mean the word to come out as forcefully as it does. Shen Qingqiu jumps, and so does the snake demon that looks at him with wide eyes again. It might simply be that it doesn’t have eyelids. Luo Binghe doesn’t think it’s blinked this whole time. “Shizun, let’s go. The Plum Blossom Bear Hounds?”

“Ah, right,” Shen Qingqiu responds. He steps away from the snake demon after one final headpat, much to Luo Binghe’s dismay. Then, he turns a gentle look upon the creature, “This master must bid you farewell, friend. But take care to avoid Huan Hua Palace and stay well.”

For a moment, Luo Binghe thinks that the snake demon might actually cry from the words. Luo Binghe also wants to cry, but for an entirely different reason than the snake demon probably. He ushers Shen Qingqiu away from the wretched thing, feeling that its eyes stay on them the entire time. It isn’t until he turns to glare at the thing, letting his own demonic qi leak out into the forest around him, that the serpentine creature slides into the undergrowth and disappears from sight.

────── 〔❅〕──────

It is almost three hours later when the dragonfly stops to zip into a beautiful dip in the forest. Several trees sprout up, and a stream with crystal clear water winds through their proud trunks. The trees themselves have red leaves, as though they have been drenched in blood. They are, however, in bloom.

Thousands of plum blossoms—a warmer, more vibrant red against the backdrop of bloody colored leaves—lend explosions of brightness among their dark leaves. Petals gently float on the wind, their scent tickling Luo Binghe’s nose and making a strange playful urge rush through him. He wants to run and play and he finds himself shifting from one foot to the other.

Shen Qingqiu chuckles softly, causing Luo Binghe to glance at him, “Shizun?”

“Sorry Binghe, this master forgot—these blossoms are invigorating to Heavenly Demons,” Shen Qingqiu says with a soft laugh. “Not many pollens affect you, of course, but these are an exception—a harmless one too! No papapa or anything!”

“Papapa?” Luo Binghe echoes, bewildered.

“Mm, not an aphrodisiac,” Shen Qingqiu says, by way of explanation. “It just serves as a mood boost, it seems, and gives energy. The Plum Blossom Bear Hound experiences a similar sort of reaction. It’s part of why they prefer this food.”

Luo Binghe’s heart feels warm. Is it the plant or his shizun? Probably his shizun, but he can’t help but smile and he dares to reach over to take Shen Qingqiu’s hand in his own. He feels very bold suddenly.

“What’s this? Holding this old man’s hand?” Shen Qingqiu tuts, but he does not pull his hand from Luo Binghe’s and Luo Binghe could walk on air. He vibrates with the urge to run and pull his shizun in his arms. Shen Qingqiu gives a fond little laugh and lets Luo Binghe pull the two of them down the mountain. The energy that the blossoms fill him with makes Luo Binghe feel like he’s been basking in sunlight for a day.

“This Binghe will hold no other’s hand,” Luo Binghe says, smiling at him. Shen Qingqiu’s answering smile gives more energy than any blossom ever could. He opens his mouth to continue, when they hear a soft snuffling noise.

The two of them look to see that there is a large, dog-like creature sitting at the base of one of the trees. It has dark, coarse hair, but long forelegs like that of a bear. Its large, dark eyes are focused on the two of them but it does not seem aggressive. Its round ears perk up as Shen Qingqiu gently tugs Luo Binghe in its direction.

Even then, he doesn’t remove his hands from Luo Binghe’s, and that makes Luo Binghe’s heart sing.

“This master is Shen…” Shen Qingqiu pauses for a moment, brow furrowing and mouth closing. Slowly, the blood seems to drain from Shen Qingqiu’s face. Luo Binghe blinks, and realizes that his master has the same look on his face that he holds for when he is struggling not to say something.

But what? What lie has his master stumbled into now?

“This disciple Luo Binghe, this is my shizun, Shen Qingqiu,” Luo Binghe smoothly says. Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders relax. The Pear Blossom Bear Hound turns curious eyes between the two of them. “We have a request for your esteemed self, a man has cursed my shizun. We hope to use your skills to find him to lift it.”

The Pear Blossom Bear Hound’s ears twitch and it sits back on its haunches and lifts one forepaw to scratch at its chin. A soft hum escapes the creature’s throat, though it doesn’t speak it clearly understands their words. It gives them a considering look, but if the tail wagging behind it is any indication it doesn’t seem upset at their request.

“We, of course, do offer a trade. A story from one of us should suffice, yes?” Shen Qingqiu asks. The Pear Blossom Bear Hound tilts its head to one side at this, and then slowly nods. Then, unerringly, it points its snout at Shen Qingqiu. “You want one from me!? Ah—Binghe is far more interesting.”

“This disciple disagrees,” Luo Binghe says warmly, he squeezes Shen Qingqiu’s fingers. He won’t lie, he is relieved he does not need to tell a tale himself. The dominating stories of his life revolve around the Abyss now. He’s curious about what his master has gotten up to though. Shen Qingqiu gives him a disbelieving look, but sighs in a resigned way.

“Well… I can tell the story of when this master and Liu-shidi met Madam Meiyin and her succubi,” Shen Qingqiu says. Luo Binghe immediately regrets his choices and despite the energy effects of the blossoms, Luo Binghe can’t hide the jealousy that sours his chest. He frowns. “Binghe, don’t look so put upon. You’re the one who insisted this master was more interesting.”

…True.

Shen Qingqiu proceeds to tell a story where he and Liu Qingge visited a succubus den and met the illustrious Madam Meiyin. Luo Binghe has heard of her before, a powerful fortune teller and protective of the succubus that she has in her family. He tries not to pay much attention to the story—until his shizun mentions what the fortuneteller says reading his fortune.

Liu Qingge clearly felt that the description sounded like him, but Luo Binghe thinks that it is far more likely that the teller meant Luo Binghe . The burst of confidence and pride it gives him makes him puff up a little excitedly. Even the end of the story, where Shen Qingqiu laments being yanked into the rose pond after pushing Liu Qingge inside, does nothing to quite snuff that flame.

The Plum Blossom Bear Hound is holding its stomach, a wheezing sound like laughter rolling out of it. It claps its paws together, and a lolling tongue falls from its mouth as it grins at them. Then, it gets to its paws and walks toward Shen Qingqiu. Seeming to sense what the Plum Blossom Bear Hound wants, Shen Qingqiu holds out the hand that the ring is on. 

The creature presses its nose against Shen Qingqiu’s hand, snuffling gently with its dark eyes sliding closed. It sits back, sniffing at the air for a moment, before tilting a head to one side and then the other. Then, it turns and begins to pad in a direction, nose sniffing at the air the whole way.

Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe glance at one another and then follow.

Through the trees the two of them follow the Plum Blossom Bear Hound. As the creature sniffs and wanders, winding stems seem to push up its coarse pelt. They begin to bloom as it walks, the same bright red as the blossoms in the trees that it eats. As they bloom the petals drift around them in a circle, and a portal opens in the air before them. The Plum Blossom Bear Hound points with its snout, tail wagging and eyes bright as it turns to look at the two of them.

“This disciple thanks you for the assistance,” Luo Binghe says, bowing slightly to the creature. The Plum Blossom Bear Hound’s eyes twinkle as it looks between the two of them one more time, before Shen Qingqiu bids it farewell as well.

Then, as one, the two of them step through the portal and are swallowed by the sweet smell of plum blossoms.

────── 〔❅〕──────

It is a bustling demon market that the two of them step out into. Eyes turn to focus balefully on Shen Qingqiu—Luo Binghe wraps an arm around his shoulders and the demonic qi he floods the area with quickly solves that issue.

Kill them. Show them that they are nothing. Xin Mo’s voice breaks through, so loud after its quiet that Luo Binghe actually jolts with surprise. His fingers tighten around the hilt of the blade, and he realizes that he has it in his hand at that moment. Shen Qingqiu’s hand rests against the inside of Luo Binghe’s elbow, brows drawn together in open concern. 

“Binghe? Are you alright?” Shen Qingqiu asks softly.

“This Binghe is fine Shizun,” Luo binghe says slowly. He sheathes Xin Mo, ignoring the wide-eyed fear of the demons around him. Shen Qingqiu’s brows furrow further, and it looks as if he intends to push the issue when suddenly his eyes light up.

“There!” He hisses, and Luo Binghe turns to look and there is a small looking man. His skin is a bright blue color and his ears are pointed, “Of fucking course it was a disguise—I should have paid closer attention.”

“Shizun should not blame himself for the actions of his lessers,” Luo Binghe says, somewhat alarmed at the vitriol his master spits and how some seem aimed directly at himself. He tugs his master along with him, briskly toward the little demon. The demon glances in their direction and does a double take.

“Ah—Xiansheng and…” the demon’s features twist a little and recognition sparks in his eyes. He swears violently, and Luo Binghe slashes with Xin Mo. To his frustration, the little man does nothing to meet the blade. He ducks, darting into the crowd of demons.

“Binghe.” Shen Qingqiu warns through grit teeth. Luo Binghe knows, no killing the merchant. But he wants to make it convincing that he intends to, and it isn’t difficult considering the harm this creature may cause his Shizun.

Luo Binghe tugs Shen Qingqiu with him, following the demon merchant like a hound that has caught a scent. It weaves through the crowds, but Luo Binghe is determined and careful to make sure his shizun does not fall behind in the crowd. It is the only thing that really causes him to lag in the journey.

Even that is not much of an issue for him.

Luo Binghe sheathes Xin Mo in a swift motion, and scoops Shen Qingqiu up in one arm. Shen Qingqiu squawks with surprise, his arms looping around Luo Binghe’s neck in an effort to stable himself. It’s helpful, he can hold his shizun in one arm easily but the balance help is something he’s grateful for.

With his free hand he flexes his fingers and claws grow razor sharp from his fingers. He picks up a burst of speed, snagging the merchant with his claws sinking into the creature’s shoulder. The little demon swears, and Luo Binghe hauls him up in the air by holding a fistful of the bastard’s robes.

“Fucking half-breed,” the demon sneers, teeth yellowed and pointed are bared at the two of them. He wriggles in Luo Binghe’s grip, the scent of blood has several demons turning to stare at them. “Think you can take the emperor’s place when you fuck around with human sects and their blood taints your veins?”

“Enough!” Shen Qingqiu snaps, somehow managing to look frigid even while Luo Binghe holds him propped up in one arm. His master gracefully steps down, turning his eyes coldly on the creature, “Lift the curse.”

“Or this filthy halfbreed will kill you,” Luo Binghe punctuates, shaking the little demon like a ragdoll. It stares at the two of them when Luo Binghe is finished with that, then bursts into loud laughter.

“You ain’t lift it yourselves?!” The demon’s mouth is split in a wide grin, and it cackles uproariously. “What, can’t get it up?”

“You—how dare you!?” Shen Qingqiu spits out, and the merchant snickers.

“What?” Luo Binghe asks.

“You, tell hm how to cure the curse—you know don’t you?” The demon merchant’s grin is positively shit eating. Luo Binghe decides that the man isn’t going to need all of his fingers to assist them in lifting the curse. He reaches to rip them off when Shen Qingqiu grinds out between his teeth.

“It’s dual cultivation. With the one the ring ties me to,” Shen Qingqiu grits out. Luo Binghe blinks and turns to stare at his master with surprise.

“That’s the way to lift it—the one that wasn’t an option?” Luo Binghe asks softly, he tries not to feel somewhat wounded. It’s like getting hit in the face. Shen Qingqiu has been so close to him these last few days—he even seemed attracted to him. But is the idea of dual cultivation with a Heavenly Demon so filthy to him?

“Binghe, this master would never—” Shen Qingqiu starts, but there’s a spark of demonic qi from the merchant. Too late, Luo Binghe realizes that his quarry has effectively distracted the two of them. A spark of demonic energy causes a bag the merchant carries to open. From out of the mouth of it, and a tiger with a long, serpentine middle, bounds out of the mouth of it. Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe are forced to separate as it leaps between them.

The creature’s long body curves up as it stands on all four paws. The tail is long and thick, tipped with a rattle and patches of white scales are visible through its pelt. The rattle rings out as it lets out a growling hiss, a forked tongue flicking from its mouth.

“Spitting Tiger Viper,” Shen Qingqiu says from where he’s drawn Xiu Ya. “Binghe, it spits venom so—”

The creature lunges a second later, vicious claws slashing at Shen Qingqiu. Luo Binghe dashes forward, drawing Xin Mo. He sinks the blade into the beast’s side and it shrieks with fury. Not before it spits a clear fluid at Shen Qingqiu. His master manages to dodge out of the way, as Luo Binghe reaches up and grabs the beast’s head with one hand. 

As he does this, Shen Qingqiu slashes down the beast’s side with Xiu Ya gleaming. The white light is so bright that it dazzles Luo Binghe as well as the Spitting Tiger Viper. Luo Binghe uses the opportunity to shove the creature’s head down down down to the ground. It snarls, body thrashing wildly in his grip. It’s simply too long to hold effectively. A back leg lifts up and claws rake down Luo Binghe’s back. The Spitting Tiger Viper yanks it’s head away from Luo Binghe in that moment. The long neck means that the second its head is no longer in his grasp, and fangs sink deep into Luo Binghe’s shoulder. He grunts in pain, a feral snarl tearing from his throat. Xiu Ya’s light flares again, and the beast lets out a vicious growl, jaws tearing from Luo Binghe’s shoulder to snap in the direction of Shen Qingqiu.

“Binghe!” Shen Qingqiu yells,, but Luo Binghe can barely hear him over the roar in his ears as he twists Xin Mo where it is still buried in the Spitting Tiger Viper’s side.

Kill, kill, kill—bleed it dry! Show it what happens when things touch what belongs to me. Bathe in the blood of this beast for daring to try, and then kill the merchant so that I can fuck my master senseless! Shen Qingqiu is mine!

The rush of Xin Mo’s words are almost as loud as the snarling creature. For all the quiet it gave him before, it sings so loudly now that Luo Binghe is uncertain if it is the blade or him speaking after all. He pulls Xin Mo out of the beast, ignoring the way it winds its long neck and middle body tightly around Luo Binghe. Its claws are raking down his side, but he pays it no mind. The Abyss had far worse.

With one last grunt, Luo Binghe bodily shoves the beast to the ground. Then, he drives the blade through the monster’s skull. The body continues to thrash and twitch for a few moments, and Luo Binghe allows Xin Mo to bathe in the taste of blood for a few moments. He lifts his eyes up to find the merchant is standing with a hand clasped around Shen Qingqiu’s wrist. 

Luo Binghe dropped the fool demon to fight the Spitting Tiger Viper. He hardly remembers even doing it, but he feels a flood of fury curl around him.

“Let him go !” Luo Binghe snarls, the demonic qi around Xin Mo twists the air around them. It smells foul, like something long dead being burned. The demon doesn’t respond, only opens the pouch that the Spitting Tiger Viper  and throws it over Shen Qingqiu’s head. The bag swallows his master whole, and Luo Binghe lunges, blade slashing out—but before the merchant is bisected he vanishes into the bag. Luo Binghe snatches at it, and the bag too disappears with a small pop. 

Leaving Luo Binghe standing alone in the street.

With Shen Qingqiu far out of his reach.

Chapter Text

【 SHEN QINGQIU 】

One of the dangers of falling through ice—besides the obvious of course—is the shock of the cold causing a cardiac arrest. Sometimes such an intense change in temperature can cause a body to seize up and it can kill you. Whether that kind of thing can kill an immortal cultivator is harder to say, but Shen Qingqiu is at least an example of someone who doesn’t die that way. It feels like he is going to though. He has a second to register that he has ended up in a room with a wooden floor and then his muscles seize painfully with the cold.

He can’t breathe, can’t think. The cold is like a sharp pain gripping his chest in claws so tightly that to breath is just a memory to him. He’s aware of his heart pounding very distantly, of the choking, whimpering noise he makes. Some lucid, stupid part of him can’t help but think about how pathetic he must appear at this moment.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he adjusts to the shock of the cold. It still feels like he can’t quite draw his breath in fully, like his muscles are too tight to properly move. Shen Qingqiu forces himself into a kneeling position, gasping for air and shaking so badly from head to foot that he almost falls over again.

I should have asked Binghe to give me some of his blood, Shen Qingqiu thinks. He takes a shaking, painful breath, trying to ignore the cold that has settled into his bones. He grits his teeth in an attempt to keep them from chattering as he looks around and finds the demon that had hauled him through the portal of his bag talking to someone else. 

Focus, focus, Shen Qingqiu tells himself. For a second that is all he can process though, is his own mental words of telling himself to focus —but eventually words come to him. The demon merchant is speaking with a human woman. She holds a blade in her hand, but it pointed down and away from the demon. There’s something about her that is important, but the demon’s words are not quite connecting in his brain the way it ought to.

“No! You are raising the price or I’m releasing the curse and letting your quarry leave!” The demon merchant is snarling as he gestures with wide sweeps of his arm. “You do not understand—when I say that this guy had a very powerful bodyguard I mean it. Think of it as fucking hazard pay at this point.”

“You already delivered him to me, what is the point of hazard pay now?” The woman says. Then, a pause and she continues, “Alright, I’ll triple your pay if you stay to make sure his bodyguard doesn’t follow.”

“Fuck,” the demon rocks back on his heels. “You’re lucky that the Old Palace Master likes you that much, lady, or I’d walk.”

There is something about that that is important, but Shen Qingqiu is having a hard time thinking through the chill. The demon storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Shen Qingqiu looks around, realizing that he has pulled his knees up to his chest like a small child. Some part of him rebels at the thought, he’s a goddamn Peak Lord! He needs to be dignified!

He cannot make his muscles uncurl though, so he stays huddled in a little ball—his body’s instinctual desire to keep the warmth in his core. The woman walks over to him with her sword’s tip still pointing at the ground but, even with his brain distracted by the fact that he is freezing , he can tell that the look on her face is not in the slightest bit sympathetic or kind. She stops in front of him, quiet as the two of them stare at one another.

“Shen Jiu,” she hisses through grit teeth, and Shen Qingqiu really wishes he knew who this woman was. Clearly she knows who the original flavor was—that’s important actually. He knows there’s very few people that fall into that category that crop up into the narrative. As if she can see the confusion on his face she sneers at him, “Don’t tell me that you can’t recognize me!”

“I don’t, ah,” Shen Qingqiu shudders, gritting his teeth. Nope, no talking. No way to sound dignified when you’re this cold. He tries, instead, to claw up his knowledge of PIDW and use it for fuck’s sake. His thoughts feel like they’re shaking right out of his head at this point. He has to really focus to be able to think of anything that isn’t just the word “cold” on a repeated mantra in his fucking head.

She is a beauty, in her own way. That sticks out as important. One of Luo Binghe’s harem then? A harem member that knows Shen Qingqiu, knows the name he had before gaining his courtesy name and his title as Peak Lord—oh. Fuck.

“Qiu Haitang?” Shen Qingqiu says, teeth chattering around the words.

“Oh so you do recognize me!” Qiu Haitang says. She storms over to him and Shen Qingqiu thinks it really is terribly pathetic that he can’t uncurl from his little ball. His cultivation is miles better than hers! He could beat her in an out-and-out fight easily , probably even with a full Without-a-Cure flare up! But here he is, trembling on the ground like a miserable stray, “When Merchant Dai told me about the curse I knew it was a perfect failsafe for getting you locked up. You can’t lie to me, can you Shen Jiu? And you finally know what it’s like for all the coldness you have in your heart to be on the outside.”

“My name is not Shen Jiu,” Shen Qingqiu snarls at her, frustrated. He has never been Shen Jiu. He can claim to be Shen Qingqiu—this he argued with the curse and it seems to have let him believe it. Mostly. But it is what the people he loves in this world call him, it is as much his name as a title he has earned (even if he didn’t). So his mind rebels at being called ‘Shen Jiu’ by this vengeful woman. Goddammit original goods! Why does your dirty laundry have to bite Shen Qingqiu directly in the ass!? No matter how much better his reputation is, he can’t run away from this kind of vengefulness!

“Shen Qingqiu,” Qiu Haitang says the name as if it is poison on her tongue. Her hands are trembling, and Shen Qingqiu has a confused moment of wondering if she’s cold too. No—no it’s nerves. Or maybe anger. Or maybe both. 

In another world, Shen Qingqiu may have pitied Qiu Haitang a little bit. In this world, he’s focusing on not freezing to death while huddled in front of her like a little pillbug. He has no pity for her, which must show in his expression, because she lets out a bitter laugh when he meets her eyes.

“Is that the face of hatred you showed my brother when you killed him?” Qiu Haitang chokes out. “Is that the face you wore when you slaughtered the men in my estate!?”

“I-I-I d-didn’t k-kill anybody,” Shen Qingqiu spits out through grit teeth.

“Liar! You—!” Qiu Haitang freezes, the breath choking off her words as it catches in her throat. Shen Qingqiu shivers on the ground, he’s having a hard time tracking the confusion on his face. Suddenly he feels hot—not in the fun way. His brain reels with the confusion of this, how is he hot? Isn’ the cursed to be cold?

Is Binghe showing up to save him? Shen Qingqiu tries to push himself to his feet but a firm hand on his shoulder pushes him back down. Qiu Haitang is asking him something, and Shen Qingqiu can’t understand what it is that she’s saying. Her mouth is moving, and fuck what was that? He shakes his head, taking another painful breath in.

Like knives in his lungs.

“W-w-what?” Shen Qingqiu stammers out.

“I said, if you didn’t kill them then who did !?” Qiu Haitang screams—has she been screaming this whole time?And who was killed? Shen Qingqiu’s brain feels like it’s become slippery. He shakes his head at her, helpless to answer a question he can’t understand. “You can’t lie—you can’t lie. You didn’t kill them, you didn’t—”

She laughs, bubbling and desperate. It sounds just as broken as Shen Qingqiu feels scattered at this moment. He’s reeling while he tries to focus on her, but his mind keeps fracturing between sentences and thoughts. Worse than any terrible dream he’s ever had. 

“Did you leave because you thought I’d blame you? And… and I did, I just proved you—I—oh gods, you’re dying. You’re dying! I thought—A-Jiu! A-Jiu hold on okay?” Qiu Haitang’s voice is tight with panic as she rushes around the room, her sword has been abandoned in front of Shen Qingqiu. He stares at it blankly.

I’m not dying, he thinks, sluggish and confused. He shakes his head, trying to stand up again with a grunt. Fuck, why is it so hot?

【WARNING! User’s internal temperature levels are dangerously low! User is experiencing hypothermia symptoms! User should reunite with Protagonist in order to avoid death!】

Delirious, he fumbles for his robes and tries to open the outer layer—distantly he knows this is something that should alarm him. That he would never have the face for such a thing normally—especially around a woman who would later join Luo Binghe’s harem. But all he can think about is the fact that he seems too hot, even though he’s trembling with cold still. 

“A-Jiu,” Qiu Haitang says to him, “You—k-keep your clothes on!”

“I’m not Sh-Sh-Shen Jiu!” Shen Qingqiu snaps, his words feel like they’re touching in an unpleasant way. He sounds drunk, or maybe worse. He staggers to his feet finally, but it feels like he’s going to fall over almost immediately. His head spins, what is he doing here? Where is Luo Binghe? “Need—need to f-f-f-find Bin-Binghe.”

“A-Jiu, I’ll—I’ll get the merchant,” Qiu Haitang says to him, and turns her back on him to leave the room. 

Shen Qingqiu slumps against the wall and focuses on not falling again. He exhales, and swears that he can see frost forming on the wood where his cheek has been pressed. Fascinating. Shen Qingqiu pushes himself to a standing position, and in the distance he thinks he hears the sound of a howl and the smell of plum blossoms. Or is that a dream?

This feels like a dream. Shen Qingqiu blinks and he’s standing in the hallway, he doesn’t remember how he got there. He knows his outer robe has been abandoned somewhere, an attempt to fight against the cold—or is it heat? His brain is confused, he can’t remember anymore. He just knows that the fabric isn’t helping.

“Qi…” Shen Qingqiu chokes out, but he forgets the name he was going to say after the first syllable. He tips into the wall, slamming into it hard enough to hurt, but it doesn’t break through the fog in his head. He thinks of Qiu Haitang saying he was dying—he thinks of taking a nap while leaning against the wall. He thinks about the difference between hot and cold, between Yuan and Jiu, and he laughs at something that he doesn’t know the punchline to.

If Luo Binghe was here he’d get it—but Binghe is in the Abyss. Or maybe on a night hunt? Either way, Shen Qingqiu sent him there. Isn’t it the same thing in the end? Sending his disciple away? He struggles to grasp the thoughts of his precious bun the way that a dehydrated man may try to grip water in his hands. Fruitless, in the end. It slips through his fingers helplessly. Shen Qingqiu stares at his hands, they look waxy to him. Like they don’t belong on his body. Where is Luo Binghe?

“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu murmurs, and Qiu Haitang appears in front of him again. He blinks at her as she drapes his robe around his shoulders and says to her, “Need—got to find Binghe ’fore his… scum… sh… shizun pushes him into the Abyss.”

“What?” Qiu Haitang asks him, and Shen Qingqiu shakes his head.

“Help,” he says to her, desperate. She doesn’t seem to understand him. Is he speaking English by mistake? Does he need to be clearer? “Help me save him.”

She seems to say something to him, but Shen Qingqiu can’t hear it because he’s falling to his knees so hard that even through the cold he feels it. Somehow the hurt doesn’t cut through the fog at all. Just serves as an anchor. Pulls him deeper and deeper. He slumps over onto his side, and feels Qiu Haitang tugging on his robes. Trying to get him up—but he’s a full grown man, and her cultivation isn’t high enough to really carry someone his size.

“Stop,” Shen Qingqiu bats her away, but finds it’s more ineffective than him being carried by her. He’s too tired to put up that much of a fight. Gods, when did he get so tired? It must have taken so much energy to get out into the hallway because of… what was he doing again? Oh. Right. Looking for Binghe.

He looks up at Qiu Haitang, and she melts into his sister. He thinks he might be in the hospital again—he can’t hear the machines but that just means the drugs are kicking in. He’ll be asleep soon. His sister is saying to him, “A-Jiu, you can’t go to sleep! Stay awake! Please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t realize! Please. ”

“S’fine mei-mei,” Shen Yuan tells her, “The doctors don’t give enough for it t’be dangerous. S’okay, I’m okay. They’ll keep me on… the monitors…”

A slap stings the side of his face—why the fuck is she hitting him now? He drags himself as awake as he can to glare at her, and she hits his face again. He tries to catch her hand, and instead turns to bury his head under his arms. He must be on monitors right? That’s what all the loud beeping noises in his head are, the flashing red lights.

“Mei-mei stop,” Shen Yuan mumbles, “Let m’sleep. I’m so tired of being sick, mei-mei, I’m so tired.”

Some mornings he wakes up and wishes he could just go back to sleep, so that he doesn’t exist when it hurts or when he feels sick. So that he doesn’t see the pity in da-ge and er-ge’s eyes. So he doesn’t see the hopelessness in his parents. Sometimes, he is so tired that he doesn’t want to fight anymore at all.

Shen Yuan, lost cause.

He’s being shaken, and even with his eyes closed the lights flashing don’t let up. Some alarm is blaring in the distance, but he doesn’t know where it is. He wishes someone would turn it off. But he’s going to fall asleep even with it on, at this point. He’s just so. Fucking tired.

────── 〔❅〕──────

Shen Yuan doesn’t know how long his eyes are closed. The sound of splintering wood is barely audible under the wailing of that alarm, but what is undeniably noticeable is the rush of warmth that floods through him. It’s enough to make his head shoot up and a gasp wrench out of him. He hears a scream, but he feels scrambled. As if he’s just woken up from a very vivid dream.

Then arms are around him—and he really is warm this time. So so so warm. Shen Qingqiu snaps out of his drowsy stupor, burrowing into those arms with a soft noise of relief. The smell of plum blossoms is thick in the air, he can smell blood just as heavily. A shaking hand finds his face and Shen Qingqiu finds himself looking in Luo Binghe’s face. He’s still rousing himself, as if from a dream.

“Shizun, Shizun, Shizun,” Luo Binghe is chanting, as if that is all that he can say. The title comes between sobs, and he feels a forehead pressed against his. Compared to the cold he had just been experiencing, it’s almost scalding. Shen Qingqiu has to focus not to flinch away. Instead, he finds his hands cupping Luo Binghe’s cheeks. They tingle and ache as though pricked by needles, and though his thumbs feel clumsy he rubs away the tears that stain his cheeks. Luo Binghe sobs, “I’m sorry Shizun, please don’t die!”

“Hush, I’m not dying,” Shen Qingqiu soothes—at least he thinks he’s not dying. Shen Qingqiu pulls Luo Binghe into his arms, closer to him. Luo Binghe has to brace himself on the ground so that he doesn’t fall on top of Shen Qingqiu. Luo Binghe looks like a dog that has just been terribly wronged, but he’s beautiful even with tears clinging to his lashes like little crystals. “Enough crying.”

“I thought—when you were taken away—” Luo Binghe chokes off and buries his face against Shen Qingqiu’s neck. The great demon lord clings to him like that, and Shen Qingqiu sighs. The warmth is comfortable though, even if his hands are hurting terribly. He forces them to clumsily pet Luo Binghe’s hair.

Slowly, painfully slowly, his awareness creeps back on him.

Fuck! That was close wasn’t it? Too close! He’s pretty sure he did some paradoxical undressing! Thank fuck robes are so complicated, if Luo Binghe had found him wandering in the nude he’d be humiliated. And regardless of how well he and Luo Binghe had made up, he does not want to be caught naked near one of his future wives. No thank you!

Were you the one that made me see my old life? He asks the System, trying not to think too hard about how his first thought was to conjure his sister to his side. He doesn’t want to look that in the eye—he knows why. He’s missed her terribly. Misses his family terribly. Nope! Not thinking about it! System, answer the question!

【User was hypothermic—hallucinations can be a symptom of hypothermia in extreme cases. As can paradoxical undressing. Hoping User is more careful in the future!】

Ah, Shen Qingqiu thinks, he rubs Luo Binghe’s hair some more. Wait—where is Qiu Haitang? He perks up, looking around the hallway and almost jumps out of Luo Binghe’s arms when he realizes that the massive Plum Blossom Bear Hound is standing in the hallway. One giant paw is resting on Qiu Haitang, pinning her to the ground—thankfully gently. The poor woman must not have realized she was dealing with a typically gentle creature though, as she lies unconscious with an expression of fright on her face.

“You went back to the Plum Blossom Bear Hound,” Shen Qingqiu says, looking over to where Luo Binghe is still burying his face against his shoulder. Binghe nods, hugging Shen Qingqiu a little tighter. The air squeaks out of Shen Qingqiu’s lungs involuntarily and he coughs to clear his throat. “Ah… very clever Binghe. It already knew my scent, and the scent of the curse, so you knew it could track me down.”

“I was almost too late,” Luo Binghe says, words muffled against Shen Qingqiu’s neck still. His breath tickles Shen Qingqiu’s skin.

“Ah! Come, speak properly to this master,” Shen Qingqiu urges. Luo Binghe looks up, his nose is red and the skin around his eyes is a lovely pink. Shen Qingqiu wants, suddenly, to kiss the corners of his eyes so badly that it makes his heart do a little flip. Why does he want to do that?

Ah of course, because this is Binghe, and he adores him. Naturally he wants to kiss the man he loves—Wait.

Wait.

“Shizun?” Luo Binghe says, voice watery with tears. Shen Qingqiu feels dizzy suddenly. Moments before, when he had very nearly frozen to death, he could hear the System blaring an alarm at him. Now he hears his own voice in his head.

A long, continuous, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!

He wants to kiss Luo Binghe!? Luo Binghe!? Stallion Protagonist with hundreds of women in a harem!? Not only is he gay but he wants to kiss Luo Fucking Binghe ! Shen Qingqiu, Shen Qingqiu—you pushed him into the Abyss! He was your disciple! He is a man written to be straight and conquer hundreds of women!

WHAT DO YOU MEAN I WANT TO KISS LUO BINGHE!? Shen Qingqiu screams internally at himself. He wishes he could manifest himself just so that he could strangle him. He mentally invisions doing so—specifically he imagines his new body with his hands around his old body’s throat and bashing him into the wall. Not only are you gay, but Luo Binghe!? No! You can’t—you—you fell for Luo Binghe!?

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry—why did he pick the one man who could never look twice at him in a romantic way? Worse, suddenly every time some other fan of PIDW responded to his comments with “Luo Binghe is never going to fuck you dude” that person had actually come up with a jab that actually hit home! FUCK!

“Shizun, what’s wrong?” Luo Binghe asks, and Shen Qingqiu jolts as if he was electrocuted, and babbles at Luo Binghe. He knows whatever he is saying is the truth, but thankfully he’s speaking so quickly that even the protagonist doesn’t seem to catch it. He blinks at him, and quietly says, “Shizun this disciple doesn’t understand…”

“Let’s—let’s find the merchant,” Shen Qingqiu says, clearing his throat and pulling himself to his feet. He can feel his ears and the back of his neck burning. Where’s his fan? He needs his fan! 

“Of course Shizun,” Luo Binghe says, “Tiang Ling, will you be joining us?”

For a moment, Shen Qingqiu is confused, then he hears a very low, “Boof!”

Shen Qingqiu turns to stare at the Plum Blossom Bear Hound as it lopes over to the two of them with a wagging tail, then he looks over at Luo Binghe. He clears his throat, “Did—did you name that Plum Blossom Bear Hound?”

“I asked if she was alright with that name before I did so,” Luo Binghe says, by way of answer. He gives Shen Qingqiu a slight smirk that makes Shen Qingqiu’s heart stutter in his chest. Fuck. Oh gods, now that he knows he has become weak to the protagonist’s wiles. What the hell is he supposed to do? Just go on with his life knowing that he's in love with Luo Binghe!?

He needs to clear this curse so he can hide these feelings under lies again!

The three of them make their way through the building—this must still be in the demon realm, considering the windowless halls and rooms. That makes sense, Shen Qingqiu figures that as handy as a bag that has a transportation sigil built into it must be, it probably is limited in what it can do. Otherwise this guy would be more than some unused villain that got too uppity to know where it belonged.

The Plum Blossom Bear Hound—Tiang Ling—starts to growl low in her throat, rounded ears pinning against her skull. Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe exchange glances, before sliding the door open and Shen Qingqiu immediately feels like his breath has been taken away.

Before them stands an open courtyard, and in that courtyard are small cages. Hundreds of them, all lined with beautiful and exotic denizens of multiple realms. Shen Qingqiu may have a fascination with the creatures, but he can’t help the building fury in his chest as a realization settles over his shoulders.

“This explains where the Spitting Tiger Viper came from,” Shen Qingqiu says slowly, his expression dark. Luo Binghe nods thoughtfully, and the creatures all clamor in their cages as they walk by. “These conditions are terrible—no wonder it was so vicious!”

Tiang Ling growls low in her throat, hackles raising around the thick ruff of her neck. Shen Qingqiu looks up just in time to see someone come crashing through the wall and slam into some of the cages in the courtyard. It topples over, the poor Scintillating Diamond Spider Baboon inside shrieking in distress and animal fear. The demon merchant scrambles to his feet, shaking his bleeding head with a snarl.

Stepping through the rubble after him is someone that Shen Qingqiu did not expect to see—the Old Palace Master’s face is cold as he drives his blade through the merchant demon’s skull. Shen Qingqiu can hardly even process his dismay as the Old Palace Master pulls his sword out with a wet schnik. The sect leader turns, his eyes focusing on Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu.

“I did tell her. This is why you should not rely on demons,” the Old Palace Master says with a soft sigh. He flicks the bloodied blade, crimson drops spattering the ground. The beasts in the cages around them howl and snarl, a cacophony of misery that the Old Palace Master does not even flinch at. The man’s eyes are fixated on Luo Binghe, and Shen Qingqiu steps in front of him before he can even think about it. The man laughs, “Ah, playing at being a good master now, Peak Lord Shen?”

Chapter Text

【 LUO BINGHE 】

When Luo Binghe had first inserted himself within Huan Hua Palace he had not really had any desire to do so. Huan Hua Palace was—is—a means to an end for him. It had been the most convenient sect for his plans but seeing the Old Palace Master with his poisonous gaze on Shen Qingqiu, Luo Binghe wishes he had chosen one of the other options instead. He had wanted to make a bigger impression when he proved he was a righteous cultivator by rising to the top of the sect.

Even just in the beginning, Luo Binghe had disliked the Old Palace Master. The man’s eyes lingered in a disquieting way—he was too free with touches that Luo Binghe was uncomfortable with. He pushed and pushed and Luo Binghe politely allowed him to because it suited his needs.

I should have killed you, Luo Binghe thinks as he adjusts his hold on Xin Mo. He isn’t sure when he drew the blade—how long the hilt has been in his hand. He isn’t sure whether the thought is his own or part of the blade itself. It is a moment of harmony within him though. The resonance is as grounding as it is unsettling.

And then, as if he has not already suffered today—as if Luo Binghe had not just found him so cold and frighteningly still not even an hour ago—Shen Qingqiu steps between him and the Old Palace Master. His back is to Luo Binghe, Xiu Ya held tightly in his grip, and Luo Binghe’s heart aches at the memories that sight gives him. Like stepping between danger and Luo Binghe—regardless of how well Luo Binghe may face said danger—is second nature to Shen Qingqiu, as if he does it without even thinking. His throat feels tight.

“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu utters to him, the slightest tilt of Xiu Ya’s blade snaps Luo Binghe’s attention to the present. He understands immediately, and moves to place himself where his shizun has subtly asked him to go. The Old Palace Master spares him a glance, but holds his free hand up in a gesture that some may interpret as good will.

“Luo Binghe, don’t be fooled,” The Old Palace Master soothes. Luo Binghe tilts his head to one side, “Your master is going to discard you the moment your use has ran out to him. I know his type—and how easy it is to fall into that honeypot. You’re a smart boy, you’ve already been shown just what his kindness can bring, have you not?”

Luo Binghe resists the urge to roll his eyes, focusing his gaze on Shen Qingqiu instead. Waiting for the slightest order from his Shizun to attack. The man’s gaze is usually difficult to read, but with the curse he has seemed to unfold in Luo Binghe’s hands like a scroll. Now, Luo Binghe realizes that his master may be more open with him than others. There is something carefully in his expression.

“The Old Palace Master seems to have it out for this Shen,” Shen Qingqiu says calmly. “Forgive me, but I can’t seem to recall a time I insulted him so much as to call for this level of attempted manipulation. You were initially helping Qiu Haitang, correct?”

“Ah, so you did speak with the girl,” the Old Palace Master sighed. “Indeed, it was this master’s pleasure to assist her in seeking the justice of her murdered family. Then she decided to be impatient and cavorted with demons—this master did advise against it, of course. Results notwithstanding.”

Meng Mo, Luo Binghe asks. The demon’s consciousness stirs against his own, thoughtful in its presence. He’s been aware of him nearby through the last little while—at least when he didn’t seem overly disgusted with Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe’s behavior toward one another.

He’d have to be unconscious for me to dive into that, Meng Mo points out mildly in his head. Then, thoughtfully, The woman that was with your beloved Shizun though, I may be able to get some interesting insight from her.

Go, Luo Binghe orders, and the dream demon fades from his thoughts like mist.

“This master has spoken with Miss Qiu and cleared up a misunderstanding,” Shen Qingqiu says calmly. “As much as her pain saddens this master to hear, he is not responsible for the death of the Qiu Estate.”

“You’re lying,” the Old Palace Master immediately responds. “This will come about in trial.”

Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu meet one another’s gazes for a brief moment, before their eyes flit away again. So the Old Palace Master doesn’t know the details of the curse—that makes sense, if the man was truly against Qiu Haitang employing a demon. The old man darts forward quickly, blade like lightning as it aims for Shen Qingqiu’s neck.

Three blades crash into one another, two crossing and one caught between the two of them. Xin Mo seems to hum in displeasure under Luo Binghe’s fingertips. Shen Qingqiu shoves the blade up and Luo Binghe pulls back to sweep Xin Mo in a slash. The Old Palace Master is gone in a moment, blade crashing against Xiu Ya before he can stab his Shizun.

The flurry of blows happens in an instant, and the Old Palace Master doesn’t let up. He attacks again and again, meeting Xin Mo or Xiu Ya—or blocking either of the two blades himself—in a shower of clangs and sparks. The fight is close quarters, and dangerous despite the Old Palace Master’s age—he is a master, a sect leader, after all. 

But the fight is still two against one—the Old Palace Master is powerful, yes, but so is Luo Binghe. What Luo Binghe lacks in experience, his Shizun more than makes up for. More than that, the two of them are a fantastic team. They fall into a perfect rhythm with one another that Luo Binghe has dreamed of before. A deadly dance, each willing to cover their own openings—it helps that the Old Palace Master seems focused on Shizun. Something that fills Luo Binghe with a quiet rage.

Kill him, kill him, kill him, Xin Mo seethes in his brain. The Old Palace Master is forced to retreat from their close combat, but Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu follow him doggedly. Luo Binghe snarls, catching the Old Palace Master’s sword again before it can pierce his master. Prove to your Shizun just what happens to the doddering old fools that cross you!

“Luo Binghe!” The Old Palace Master barks, blade slashing up to meet Xin Mo in a deadly downslash. His free hand sends a burst of qi out that Shen Qingqiu slices through with Xiu Ya gracefully, and the man is forced to retreat or be disarmed. “Do not let this man cloud your judgment! He is using you!”

“And you wouldn’t be?” Luo Binghe sneers.

“You know he is hiding something from you! Has he told you of his past?” The Old Palace Master asks, wincing as Xin Mo scratches his cheek. Blood against the blade makes it sing through Luo Binghe in discordant hunger. He almost beheads the man on his next swing, eyes narrowing down on his prey. “Has he told you about that woman he was sworn to marry?”

It should not be so easy to break through Luo Binghe’s stride, but the words sink in and hook into that ugly, dark jealousy that Xin Mo has been feeding this whole time. He falters in his step—just a second, and there is a flash of a blade before Shen Qingqiu makes a quiet grunt of pain. Luo Binghe feels a spike of guilt, “Shizun!”

“Focus!” Shen Qingqiu orders him, and Luo Binghe tries to ignore the sharp tang of iron in the air.

He was never yours, Xin Mo hisses poisonously in his head.

“Oh? What promises did he make you, Luo Binghe? Did he say you could stay by his side forever, and yet fail to mention that?” the Old Palace Master asks when Luo Binghe intercepts the old man’s blade again before it can cause more damage to Shen Qingqiu.

You can lie with more than just words, Xin Mo adds in tandem.

“What other things could he be hiding from you in that past of his?” the Old Palace Master croons.

Think of all the times he simply would not respond, Xin Mo hisses.

“Shut up, shut up!” Luo Binghe snaps, catching the Old Palace Master’s blade in his bare hand this time. He curls his fingers around it, ignoring the bite of blood and the surprised sound that Shen Qingqiu makes. He sees a flash of pure, bright light as Xiu Ya flares, and the blade goes slack very suddenly in Luo Binghe’s grip.

Said blade clatters to the ground, with the Old Palace Master’s wrinkled hand still tight around the hilt. Shen Qingqiu’s eyes are wide with concern and fury, Xiu Ya dripping blood that joins the gory mess of the Palace Master’s now detached forearm and hand on the ground.

Qi condenses in the Old Palace Master’s remaining palm and crashes into Shen Qingqiu’s chest. Luo Binghe watches in distant horror as his master is sent hurtling into a wall nearby, and as recompense he drives Xin Mo to the hilt into the Old Palace Master’s chest. The man wheezes wetly around the old blade, before the weapon pulses sickeningly in his hand. That old man’s eyes tremble in their sockets as his skin seems to be drawn close to the skull for a moment—to sag and become almost translucent. Then, the Old Palace Master collapses into a heap onto the dusty ground. No blood pools from him now, Xin Mo has devoured the old man down to the spirit.

“Shizun!” Luo Binghe yells, running to where Shen Qingqiu is stumbling out of the rubble of the building he was thrown into. Luo Binghe’s free hand moves to cup his master’s face, and then he realizes that said hand is bleeding. He focuses his healing to that immediately, wiping his palm against his robes, “Shizun, are you okay?”

“Yes—no, maybe,” Shen Qingqiu wheezes, rubbing his chest. “Your hand, Binghe—”

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” Luo Binghe responds, jerking his hand away from Shen Qingqiu. Shen Qingqiu freezes for a moment, looking up at him—Luo Binghe sees his master carefully gathering together what little of his mask remains with the curse. 

Hiding things, even now, Xin Mo’s words are almost smug in Luo Binghe’s head. It aches, behind the eyes and in his teeth. He runs his thumb over the hilt and watches Shen Qingqiu closely for any shift in his expression. He catches a brief flash of what he thinks might be fear. He doesn’t trust you.

“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says his name gently, softly. “Put Xin Mo away okay? Let this master help—”

“Why does Shizun want me to put Xin Mo away? Does he think this disciple will hurt him?” Luo Binghe says he wonders—suddenly—how afraid Shen Qingqiu is of him. The idea hurts. It hooks deep into his insecurities and tears at him. “Does he think this disciple would kill him?”

“You don’t have control over Xin Mo,” Shen Qingqiu says, voice soothing. “This master doesn’t want you to qi deviate.”

\ He did not answer the question, Xin Mo murmurs in his mind.

“Shizun did not say if he thought this disciple would hurt or kill him,” Luo Binghe says, heart aching. “Shizun really thinks that I would do something like that? That I’m a monster.”

“Binghe, I—you’re not a monster. I don’t think you’re a monster, but Xin Mo is a dangerous, evil sword. It’s poisoning your mind right now because you rushed through claiming it as your own. You don’t kill enough—have the… the other methods to quell it,” Shen Qingqiu grabs Luo Binghe’s wrist and rubs soothing circles against it with his thumb. “Sheathe it for this master, please?”

Shen Qingqiu’s eyes are so clear, so wide and concerned.

What is he not saying aloud? What is he thinking? He hides things from you, knows things he shouldn’t.

“How does Shizun know so much about Xin Mo?” Luo Binghe finds himself breathing the question more than saying it. Shen Qingqiu’s eyes flash with fear, and Luo Binghe twists his arm around so that now he’s holding onto his Shizun. “Shizun knows so much about Xin Mo. Knew it helped this one get out of the Abyss. Knows that killing and sex quiets it, or worsens its words. He tried to learn a song to quiet it. Shizun, where did you learn about this blade, lost for centuries in the Endless Abyss?”

Shen Qingqiu’s lips thin, and Luo Binghe can see his jaw flex. He feels that it would have been better if Shen Qingqiu had slapped him instead. He lets out a mirthless laugh, dropping Shen Qingqiu’s wrist and sheathing Xin Mo. The relief in Shen Qingqiu’s eyes does not quite brighten them when Luo Binghe finds himself staring at his own bloodied palm. The cut there is gone.

“Shizun, this disciple wants to understand, but you won’t talk to him,” Luo Binghe says, he tries not to sound as hurt as he feels. But the words come out as pathetic as the hole in his chest feels. He hunches his shoulders, feeling very small. “You won’t trust him. Not to control Xin Mo, not to be good, not to listen and be there for him… why Shizun? Won’t won’t you trust this Binghe? Will you always push him away, when he feels closest?”

“I can’t—I can’t tell you,” Shen Qingqiu chokes out.

“You’re in pain holding it back!” Luo Binghe can’t help but point out. “You’d rather suffer than say anything! You’d rather d…die of a curse than consider letting this filthy disciple lie with you to lift—”

“Luo Binghe! You are not filthy!” Shen Qingqiu snaps. “This master will never, never use you in that way.”

“Is it so wrong to!?” Luo Binghe cries, his eyes burn with tears. He hates himself for this. For letting Xin Mo get to him. For proving his Shizun right by letting it happen. He feels wild and out of control. Like he has just had his cradle seal shattered and stands at the edge of the Endless Abyss “This disciple is willing! Willing to do anything for you!”

“You do not deserve to be used like that!” Shen Qingqiu shouts at him, actually shouts. Even when he was cold, even when he was cruel, Shen Qingqiu never really raised his voice. He yells now, his hands flying up as he speaks, gesturing wildly as he does. “You are a person Luo Binghe! Not a cure, not just—just some character in a book. You have emotions and feelings and I refuse to stoop to that level. To use my ailments—curse, poison, what have you—to manipulate you into having sex with me! I’ve lived this long with Without-a-Cure, a little curse on top of that is nothing! And what’s dying again, one more time , I can just discard this body if I have to! I won’t fucking use you—not, not more than—I can’t do that to you!”

“Sh—Without-a-Cure? Dying again?” Luo Binghe chokes out, but his shizun is hitting full tilt now.

“You are used. Over and over again. For your sword, for your strength, for your heavenly pillar—dick, fucking! Like you don’t have emotions, feelings, like you’re nothing but a plot device. And I hate that, I won’t become that, I can’t do that—I—I already…” Shen Qingqiu laughs bitterly, dragging his fingers through his hair. It’s come undone with the motion, tangled in long fingers, “I already have done so much Binghe. I let you cook and clean for me because it seemed to make you happy, but I’m selfish. I knew I shouldn't—I shouldn’t do that, I was using you. Too lazy to cook for myself, too selfish to stomach a little bland food. Spoiled! Am I any better than the scum villain? No—no I’m worse. I showed you care and, and a home and then I—fucking spat on it like some neurotic piece of shit . I acted like I had no choice, but I had a choice. I made the wrong one!”

Shen Qingqiu’s eyes are wild now, lit with a fury that Luo Binghe has never seen in him. He whirls on Luo Binghe, and Luo Binghe realizes with some alarm that blood has begun to leak out of his Shizun’s nose. His heart jolts, “Shizun—”

“The original Shen Qingqiu has nothing on the piece of work that I am,” Shen Qingqiu seethes, gesturing to himself with disgust. “Take a boy into your home, teach him love and care and then literally stab him in the chest and throw him into hell. I knew you’d survive, but at what cost? The death of your childhood joy? The trust that you finally felt you could give? What little goodness you managed to scrounge into your life? I tainted it, used it for my own gains Luo Binghe. I’m no better than the scum villain. I’m worse, I’m not even your real master, I’m an imposter! The real Shen Qingqiu died when you were fourteen! All that’s left is this pale imitation who fumbles through life pretending to be someone he isn’t and never really will be. A man who can’t bring you enough good to be worth any of the pain he has given. Too sick in his first life, too fearful in the second to really let go for the better of the people around him. A spineless, selfish coward who chose to hurt the one person he loved more than anything in this world instead of dying! ”

Shen Qingqiu’s voice cracks on the final word. Luo Binghe’s mouth is hanging open, and he realizes that as he closes it slowly. Shen Qingqiu’s hands are shaking so badly that Luo Binghe aches to gather them between his own, but the silence between them feels fragile and tenuous. He doesn’t want to startle his master, to cause him to spook like a frightened animal. Then, like he’s been struck, Shen Qingqiu flinches. Blood leaks from the corner of one of Shen Qingqiu’s eyes, and his master wipes at it with his hand, holding his head in the other as if he’s in an extreme amount of pain.

“Shizun?” Luo Binghe asks, feeling dazed, a sense of unease settling over his shoulders, making the hair along the back of his neck raise, as Shen Qingqiu shakes his head.

 Blood begins to pour from Shen Qingqiu’s mouth and ears, and the man meets Luo Binghe’s eyes briefly and chokes out a quiet;

“Fuck,” before crumpling into a heap before Luo Binghe can gather the sense to catch him. To his horror, he feels his master’s qi spike violently, the air crackles with the energy of it and Luo Binghe feels panic slam into him with almost physical force.

Qi deviation.

“Shizun!” Luo Binghe lunges for the man, finding that Shen Qingqiu is writhing in his arms. The scent of blood mingles with a smell like a storm—a crackle of energy so potent that Luo Binghe sobs with panic. He feels suddenly terribly small and helpless.

What the fuck happened!? Meng Mo’s voice breaks through the panic buzzing through Luo Binghe’s brain. The demon has returned from his jaunt and Luo Binghe remembers that they aren’t alone here. Tiang Ling edges out from where she had been hiding during the fight with a wine, and there is a shaking woman that stands in the hole that was created by the Old Palace Master staring at Shen Qingqiu. What’s made him deviate!?

“Me!” Luo Binghe almost wails the word, even knowing he alone can hear Meng Mo. The old dream demon swears violently in his head—he’s reasonably certain that some of the swears are only ones that demons know.

“A-Jiu?” the woman says fearfully, tentatively. Luo Binghe resists the urge to bare his teeth at her, instead holding onto Shen Qingqiu’s face and trying hard to stabilize his qi with a rush of his own.

“Shizun, Shizun please,” Luo Binghe pleads, “This disciple is sorry, this disciple shouldn’t have pushed you. Please Shizun!”

Kid, get him back to the mountain, Meng Mo’s voice cuts through Luo Binghe’s panic. Luo Binghe draws himself to his full height, clutching Shen Qingqiu in one arm even as the man’s energy crackles around them violently. He’s aware of Shen Qingqiu’s qi biting into his flesh. Blood spatters the ground behind him, but he doesn’t flinch as he draws Xin Mo with his free hand and slashes the air.

Luo Binghe steps through, hardly sparing a mind to the fact that Qiu Haitang and Tiang Ling both follow at his heels. They step right into the office of Mu Qingfang, who is already on his feet. Liu Qingge stands nearby, Cheng Luan drawn but eyes fixed on the seizing Shen Qingqiu in Luo Binghe’s grip.

Mu Qingfang curses violently under his breath, rushing over to Luo Binghe and pressing his fingers to several acupoints on Shen Qingqiu. Luo Binghe is resisting the urge to collapse, to beg the doctor to do anything that he can—no words edge out of his throat because he is frozen with terror.

“What happened!?” Liu Qingge demands.

“Liu-shixiong, get me the vial in the third drawer on the topmost row of my cabinet,” Mu Qingfang almost barks the words. Liu Qingge obediently goes, immediately pulling out the whole drawer and dropping it on Mu Qingfang’s desk. The man grabs a vial and passes it to the doctor, who shatters it in his hand under Shen Qingqiu’s nose.

Shen Qinqiu jolts, a deep breath filling his lungs. For a moment his eyes are open—tinged red from the blood leaking from them. Luo Binghe hears a whimper and it takes a moment to realize that he’s making the noise and not Shen Qingqiu. Shen Qingqiu’s eyes fix on Binghe for a moment, just a moment, and then he falls completely slack in Luo Binghe’s arms.

“Shizun!” Luo Binghe wails.

Mu Qingfang’s fingers find Shen Qingqiu’s wrist, and Luo Binghe trembles as he holds Shen Qingqiu close to himself. He can’t breathe, he can’t think. Shen Qingqiu can’t die here, he just can’t. His heart hammers in his ears, but Mu Qingfang’s shoulders relax just a little. The man gestures for Binghe to follow him, and obediently Luo Binghe does. 

“You, stay.” Luo Binghe hears Liu Qingge say to Qiu Haitang—or maybe to the Plum Blossom Bear Hound. He’s grateful that his shishu didn’t just attack the creature on sight, Shizun would have been terribly upset if he had.

If his Shizun survives.

“Mu-shishu,” Luo Binghe says, his voice little more than a pathetic whimper. Mu Qingfang doesn’t respond to him, only ushers him into a room and has him set Shen Qingqiu into a bed. The man pulls up a chair for Luo Binghe immediately, but does not make Luo Binghe drop Shen Qingqiu’s hand when he finds himself clinging onto it.

“Luo-shizhi should hold onto Shen-shixiong,” Mu Qingfang says as Liu Qingge enters the room. “He’s still cursed, we can’t have it siphoning his spiritual energy on top of the deviation.”

“I thought you were lifting the curse,” Liu Qingge says, judgment heavy in his tone. Luo Binghe can’t look away from Shen Qingqiu’s face, his master’s words are running through his head in a loop.

“What caused the deviation?” Mu Qingfang asks.

“I…” Luo Binghe’s throat feels terribly dry and his eyes sting. Inwardly, he wails, I did! Luo Binghe swallows. “During the curse, Shizun has avoided certain topics. He spoke about one of those topics and it seemed to trigger… to trigger this.”

More to it than that, Meng Mo’s is tight in Luo Binghe’s head. Something has him locked in a nightmare kid—something powerful. I don’t think I can break through the damn thing, I haven’t the slightest clue what it is. Powerful though.

Is it related to the curse? Luo Binghe asks.

No, I think it’s something that’s been there longer, Meng Mo says thoughtfully. Whatever it is, it doesn’t like your Shizun very much right now.

“There’s something keeping him in a dream,” Luo Binghe says, only when he speaks aloud does he realize that Liu Qingge and Mu Qingfang have been talking to one another. Both Peak Lords turn to look at him, the former has his lips turned down in a scowl but Mu Qingfang’s expression is thoughtful.

“Something?” Mu Qingfang prompts.

“This disciple isn’t sure what, but he has a way that he may be able to assist,” Luo Binghe’s eyes briefly dart to Liu Qingge then to Mu Qingfang.

“Liu-shixiong, please go to Yue-shixiong and inform him of what is happening,” Mu Qingfang says, making Liu Qingge’s mouth drop open in protest. Mu Qingfang raises a hand and looks to him seriously, “Now—you’re the fastest here that can go.”

Liu Qingge scowls, looking to where Shen Qingqiu lies in the bed for a moment before storming out. Luo Binghe feels his shoulders relax as he rubs his thumb over the back of Shen Qingqiu’s hand, his heart feels a little calmer with a plan in mind.

“Luo-shizhi has a plan to help his shizun?” Mu Qingfang asks.

“This disciple is skilled in the cultivation of dreams and dreamscapes,” Luo Binghe responds. Mu Qingfang meets Luo Binghe’s gaze, and Luo Binghe knows that the man is aware of what goes unsaid here. It is demonic cultivation, after all. Mu Qingfang looks to Shen Qingqiu’s face, before he nods seriously.

“You have until Yue-shixiong and Liu-shixiong return,” Mu Qingfang responds quietly.

Luo Binghe inhales deeply, and nods.

Meng Mo, Luo Binghe says, leaning forward in his chair he rests his forehead against where he and Shen Qingqiu’s hands are tightly held. The dream demon does not respond with words, but Luo Binghe feels his consciousness immediately sink. On his own, he can draw himself into dreams easily. With Meng Mo, he falls asleep in mere moments.

────── 〔❅〕──────

When Luo Binghe opens his eyes he finds himself standing in a void with Meng Mo at his side. Before them, a towering wall with strange, blocky lettering, glows blood red. It casts a stark, eerie light over the two of them. The senior dream demon’s expression is furrowed and somewhat irritated as Luo Binghe looks the wall over.

“This is blocking you from him?” Luo Binghe asks, reaching forward to brush his fingertips against the wall. It flares brightly for a moment, squares dancing strangely around it with more blocky calligraphy that Luo Binghe cannot read. 

【 WARNING! WARNING! Punishment protocol is in progress before User 002 is sent back to his previous world! Please do not interfere with the System at this time! 】

“The System?” Luo Binghe queries, tone cold and commanding. “Are you the one keeping my Shizun unconscious? Hurting him?”

【 Answering Protagonist! This System is enforcing a Punishment Protocol per User 002’s breaking of our TOS. Please understand that the Protagonist has no control over this situation and that User 002 will be departing from his world shortly! 】

“So you intend to kill Peak Lord Shen?” Meng Mo huffs, “Bold of you, if stupid.”

【 User 002 is aware of the rules and was warned multiple times of the results of breaking them! Please do not interfere with the System, thank you. 】

“Meng Mo,” Luo Binghe says, “Help me break through.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Meng Mo says, but when Luo Binghe rests both palms against the wall so does Meng Mo. A pulse of demonic qi sparks through them both, Luo Binghe can hear the System’s strange voice shrieking in his ear about not interfering. He easily blocks it out though, and one moment he is listening to its unbearable howling and the next the red flickers out of view.

Luo Binghe stumbles onto ash-covered ground—the acrid scent of fire is still heavy in the air as he looks around himself. Something about his surroundings are familiar and for a moment he can’t place them—when he does, his stomach drops and he feels sick.

This is Qing Jing Peak, but not as he knows it. The whole peak has been worse than destroyed—every building has been razed to the ground, the very earth has been salted and burned. No life will grow here ever again. His chest hitches at the thought, and he swallows the nausea that rushes over him at the idea of seeing his beloved home brought to such a state.

He has to find Shizun.

Luo Binghe walks through the dusty ground, trying to spot signs of life among the ruins. Every now and then he sees gnarled limbs twisting from the rubble, and he tells himself not to look too closely. His heart hurts at the thought of his Shizun, who loves his peak so very much, being caught in this terrible place as a punishment.

Then he hears something that makes the blood in his veins run cold—a scream.

Luo Binghe runs toward the dreadful noise, already imagining a dream version of Xin Mo in his hand. When he rounds the corner he finds his Shizun is pinned beneath someone else—a sick feeling roils in Luo Binghe’s stomach when he realizes that the someone in particular is holding his shizun’s arm in one hand.

An arm not attached to Shen Qingqiu.

Blinding fury crashes into Luo Binghe—he can tell immediately that this thing is not a part of a dream of Shen Qingqiu’s. It is a real person, someone who is truly hurting his Shizun. Brought here, likely, by that System. Luo Binghe is quick to slash out with Xin Mo, and the person pinning his Shizun deflects the attack with an ease that Luo Binghe immediately recognizes. He feels dizzy, suddenly, as he registers what he is seeing.

It is himself, who stands above Shen Qingqiu. Or a version of himself. The other him holds Shen Qingqiu’s detached arm in one hand before throwing it over his shoulder carelessly. His eyes are bright with keen interest as he regards Luo Binghe, and Luo Binghe swallows the sick feeling to let it burn into a fury that has him baring his teeth like a wild animal.

“Stay away from him!” Luo Binghe hisses. He hears his Shizun let out a sob that sounds like relief to his ears and he lunges for the other him. That other Luo Binghe draws away, watching with detached interest as Luo Binghe rushes to his Shizun’s side. “Shizun! Shizun…”

“Binghe, you have to get out of here,” Shen Qingqiu says through grit teeth, but his eyes are relieved when they see him. Luo Binghe pulls Shen Qingqiu to his chest and presses his face against the top of his head.

“What is this?” The other Luo Binghe says, in the same tone that someone might use when seeing a Self-Disemboweling Jaguar Dragon Crane for the first time. Like he is fascinated and disgusted all at once.

“None of your concern,” Luo Binghe snarls back at him, he pulls himself to his full height, helping his shizun stand. The blood seeping from his dream form makes Luo Binghe ache in sympathy, and he marvels that Shen Qingqiu does not shy away from him. That he would lean into him instead, even while trembling. “Shizun, this disciple is getting you out of here, okay?”

“Binghe!” Shen Qingqiu says, tugging him back nervously at the hint of a blade from that other Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe meets the eyes of his double, baring his teeth again, but the other him is fixated on Shen Qingqiu now. Curiosity has kindled in those eyes.

Luo Binghe doesn’t care for it.

With a slash of the dream Xin Mo, he pulls Shen Qingqiu to his chest and away from that Luo Binghe. Away from those eyes that are too familiar, too cruel, to really feel they have disappeared and into further darkness.

────── 〔❅〕──────

When Luo Binghe next opens his eyes it is to a room that is like nothing he has ever seen before. He stares at a ceiling that is too smooth and too white, there is a sphere set into the center of it with blades like a flower that spread out around it. He jolts to a sitting position, realizes that he is lying on his back on the floor and that there is an unfamiliar man watching him from a strange chair.

The unfamiliar man is small in stature and frail in a way that Luo Binghe can tell immediately is unthreatening. His skin is paler even than Shen Qingqiu’s, but his eyes are a dark, warm brown that is intelligent even hidden behind the strange spectacles he wears. His hair is cropped short, like he is a criminal, and he is clad in scandalously little. Luo Binghe can see his collarbone and part of his unblemished shoulder.

Even with a face he doesn’t know though, even if he can’t recognize that, Luo Binghe knows the warmth in those eyes. The worry in them. He sits up, and stares, mystified at this young man before him.

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe breathes. It isn’t a question, but a statement. The young man stiffens and then slowly, reluctantly nods at him. Luo Binghe makes a strangled, soft noise as he lunges forward and wraps his arms around him, “Shizun!”

“A-ah! Binghe!” This tiny version of his Shizun is easily enveloped in Luo Binghe’s arms. Luo Binghe finds his face buried in his Shizun’s short, but very soft, hair and he inhales deeply. There is something soothing about holding Shizun, like the whole world is in his arms and he is settled completely. “So sticky, even in a dream.”

“This disciple—this Binghe,” Luo Binghe chokes out, feeling on the verge of tears. Shizun sighs heavily, and Luo Binghe finds those small, frail hands are holding his face and wiping his tears away. Shizun looks at him with a helpless little smile that Luo Binghe finds he wants to kiss desperately. “This Binghe thought Shizun was lost to him again.”

“I’ve worried you so much today,” Shizun utters softly, wiping at those tears with determination. “This master is so sorry, Binghe.”

Luo Binghe sniffs, and then looks around the room they are in. As he does, he becomes aware of their surroundings. The strange chair is seated in front of a glowing box that reminds him somewhat of the System he encountered earlier, though nowhere near as obnoxious. There is a bed that looks far softer than anything Luo Binghe has ever seen before, and the walls are lined with shelves of small but colorful statues. Colorful statues that look familiar—and wall scrolls with art that looks familiar too. Luo Binghe blinks, looking to Shizun.

“Shizun, where are we?” Luo Binghe asks.

“Ah—this is my room! Or well, my room from before I came to your world,” Shizun says. “Back when I was Shen Yuan, instead of Shen Qingqiu. You should probably be calling me Shen Yuan, instead of Shizun. You know, because… ah…”

“Shen Yuan,” Luo Binge repeats, eyes wide as he takes in the room around him. Shen Yuan follows his gaze and slowly his face gets a little redder and redder. Luo Binghe finds that he is suddenly being tugged to his feet. Shen Yuan’s face is far redder than even Shen Qingqiu’s has been, the memory of the bathing incident has nothing on this. The other man tugs Luo Binghe out of the room with a haste that has him tripping over his feet, and Luo Binghe is forced to steady him. “Why am I all over in there?”

“Huh? Those—pfff. Those are just, I mean! Of course you’re—you’re my favorite so I just have a lot of merch. Or—well. Basically, I bought all that art and stuff because I like you best. Really? Even here I can’t lie!? I’m dying! Give me a break!” Shen Yuan loudly gripes throwing his hands up.

“Shizun isn’t going to die,” Luo Binghe says stubbornly, but Shen Yuan only looks at him over the rim of his glasses before walking down a hallway. He trails after Shen Yuan, looking around the small dwelling around them curiously.

The architecture is cold, compared to the Bamboo House. There are signs of someone living there, but it does not feel like a home. There are some framed pictures on the wall—far too detailed to be a painting of any kind. Luo Binghe pauses as he passes them. He sees Shen Yuan with three others—two older men and a girl that is likely a teenager. Sees those same faces repeated and with two others there as well—a man and a woman with features that could mix into who Shen Yuan appears to be. The pictures depict them all at different ages, from when Shen Yuan was smaller than Luo Binghe was when he first joined the sect to the age he appears now.

Shen Yuan stands next to him for a moment, his expression is somewhat sad as he looks at the images a little wistfully. He points at the first picture Luo Binghe saw, “That’s me, of course. Er-ge is the tallest there, isn’t that funny? Used to drive Da-ge up the wall when we were younger. Er-ge owns a fancy gallery in the states—ah, that is, this country across the sea. They house all kinds of art there, it’s a very popular business too apparently. He has a few shares in my parents’ company, but his heart’s really in it for the art thing.”

“Da-ge is more serious, he’s going to take over for dad when he retires so he’s already running some of the business himself. Right now he’s in Germany. Before everything, it had been… what, a little over a year since I saw him last. That wasn’t surprising though, and honestly I preferred it that way, I didn’t want to drag him down too much,” Shen Yuan sighs softly as he talks. He brushes his fingers over the glass of the picture and softly says. “The young girl, that’s my mei-mei. She’s still in school. Binghe would like her I think.She has a big heart and is going to go into medical school, I think. Like your Mu-shishu, she wants to heal people to make sure they aren’t just not sick, but are happy.”

“I didn’t realize Shizun had siblings,” Luo Binghe says softly.

“I don’t know that your original shizun did,” Shen Yuan responds. He points at another picture, clearing his throat. “My mom and dad—ah, dad might have scared you a little when you were a bun, but he even if he’s loud he doesn’t really believe in the corporal punishment thing. All bark, no bite kinda guy you know? My mom spoils us rotten though. She used to say I was her favorite, but we were all pretty sure she said that to everyone.”

Shen Yuan trails off, his voice thick with emotion. Luo Binghe finds himself reaching for Shen Yuan’s hand and twining his fingers with his. His shizun laughs softly, and the sound is a little lonely and a little bitter.

“I miss them,” he confesses softly. “I wish they could have met you Binghe. They would have liked you.”

“I wish I could meet them too,” Luo Binghe responds, and finds that he honestly does. There’s an ache in Shen Qingqiu’s tone that makes him desperately long to pull this dream into reality for him. But, even for Luo Binghe, that is an impossibility.

Shen Yuan tugs Luo Binghe down the hallway and into the main room. He sits him down on the couch, and Luo Binghe gives in to the urge to pull Shen Yuan into his arms. Shen Yuan squawks in surprise, but finds himself sitting in Luo Binghe’s. Luo Binghe chuckles despite himself, even out of the corner of his eye he can see his shizun’s blush. Still, Shen Yuan settles against his chest with a soft sigh.

“I’m not really your shizun Binghe,” Shen Yuan softly says to him as he twines his fingers with Luo Binghe once more. Luo Binghe squeezes Shen Yuan’s hand, and his shizun softly says, “I read a book with a story about you—in that story, your shizun was a terrible, cruel person. He beat you terribly, he bullied you, made your life hell and then threw you into the Endless Abyss. When you got out, he got his just desserts—that was just a small part of the story, but I didn’t do a very good job changing it.”

“My Shizun was very kind to me,” Luo Binghe says softly. “My Shizun protected me, and kept me safe and gave me a home. My Shizun is a man who smiled at me when I was fourteen, who let me fall into his arms when training, who taught me my sword forms and gave me my cultivation manual that didn’t hurt—that was you, right Shizun?”

Shen Yuan’s lower lip trembles for a moment and he turns to press his face against Binghe’s chest. A soft, choked noise comes from him, and Luo Binghe realizes with alarm that his master is crying. He wraps his arms around him, resting his cheek against the top of Shen Yuan’s head, and his heart aches for his master suddenly. To be in a world where he has to pretend to be a cruel man with a cruel history—even these glimpses of his real self, after this curse, have proven that the lofty image he is forced to maintain is not who Shen Yuan feels he really is. 

But the parts of his Shizun that matter are Shen Yuan. The man who was good and kind to him. The man who is lazy in the early mornings, who gets flustered and can’t talk, who loses his fans on Liu-shishu’s peak, who pats the heads of his disciples and loves Qing Jing peak, who loves monsters and komodo dragons—that is his Shizun. That is Shen Yuan.

And Luo Binghe loves him, so terribly much.

“To me, Shizun is Shizun,” Luo Binghe says softly. “Shen Yuan is Shizun. Shizun has been very good to me, is the best..”

“You—you—Binghe, I’m nothing special,” Shen Yuan says with a gusty sigh. “I’m just a shut-in who got so worked up about a book that it literally killed him. I’m not a real immortal—hell. I’m so sick and weak that I wasn’t supposed to live past my twenties anyway.”

“Shizun is many things, nothing special is not one of them,” Luo Binghe says softly, holding Shen Yuan’s face in his hands.

“Binghe,” Shen Yuan says fondly, reaching up to pat his head. “You really are too good to this master.”

“Shizun is too good to this disciple,” Luo Binghe responds earnestly. “Every kindness this disciple receives from Shizun, he wants to give back a million-fold—not out of debt! But out of his greatest joy. Shizun, please…”

“Binghe, I don’t want to dual cultivate with you just to cure Without-a-Cure. Or lift a curse,” Shen Yuan says firmly. He swallows, his face red, “I—I couldn’t do so without… without complicating matters. It isn’t right for me to do that to you. Not when you have so much potential, so many lovely flowers who Binghe can woo and love! Not if you don't feel the same as I do.”

Luo Binghe’s pulse jumps, and he stares at Shen Yuan for a moment. His shizun’s face goes from entreating to wary for a moment, and he seems to comb through what he said recently but before he can completely do so Luo Binghe insists softly, “Shizun, what feelings do you have for this disciple?”

Shen Yuan stares up at him, and then tries to hide his face. Luo Binghe is a merciless demon lord though—he catches Shen Yuan’s face in both hands and tilts it up towards him. Shen Yuan’s eyes are wide and helpless, his face red and lips parted and oh Luo Binghe wants to kiss him so badly.

“Shizun?” Luo Binghe prompts, he can hear his pulse in his ears. Shen Yuan swallows thickly.

“I love… I love my Binghe,” Shen Yuan croaks out, his face is so red that it feels hot in Luo Binghe’s hands. Luo Binghe can’t breathe as he stares at that lovely face, at those warm brown eyes that are soft in a way that Luo Binghe will never forget and always adore. “In this life, in the next and whatever follows, this master loves Luo Binghe above all others.”

Luo Binghe can’t stop himself from kissing him then. It is not a graceful kiss—their teeth clack together painfully, and Shen Yuan hisses between them in surprise. Yet Luo Binghe crushes him closer, as if desperate to fold him into himself. He can feel Shen Yuan’s mouth curling in a helpless smile. Then Shen Yuan pushes his face away and utters to him between their mouths a firm, “Stop biting, stop biting!”

Luo Binghe makes a helpless noise, something like a whine in his throat, but he kisses Shen Yuan again. And again, and he feels Shen Yuan’s mouth part and he sucks the smaller man’s lower lip into his mouth. Shen Yuan makes a little noise at that, one that kindles a fire bright in Luo Binghe’s chest and then—

The room around them flashes a blinding, bloody red. Shen Yuan jerks back, holding his head in his hands with a whimper. Luo Binghe is on his feet in a moment, and there is a crimson square across from him. It takes up most of the sitting room they are in. So tall it barely fits in the room at all.

【 WARNING! USER 002 WILL BE RETURNED TO HIS ORIGINAL WORLD IN 10 SECONDS! 】

“Binghe!” Shen Yuan yells, and Luo Binghe realizes he has Xin Mo in his hand again. “Binghe—be careful!”

【 8…7…6 】 The System blares, unbearably loud in the room. Luo Binghe drags Xin Mo’s blade against the System’s large, wall-like window. Sparks chase after it, the numbers on the screen jumbling together. 【 5…4… 】

Luo Binghe will not allow this to take his Shizun from him. To hurt his Shizun anymore. He twists Xin Mo in his hand, and he plunges it into the System. Cracks radiate from where he does, the blade sinks into it with a shrieking scrape.

【 3…2…】 The System’s voice is lowering in pitch, and Luo Binghe reaches for Xin Mo’s consciousness. Xin Mo—eager, hungry to devour as ever, rises forth through him. It is like dark fire. It is like jubilation and fury all at once. A pulse of dark qi blasts through the System, 【 ERROR!! ERROR!! FATAL SYSTEM ERROR! 】

“Binghe!” Shen Yuan’s voice is panicked, he grabs Luo Binghe’s face and kisses him. “Luo Binghe, I am so proud of you. I have never been more proud. I love you—whatever happens, you are my incredible, wonderful Binghe. Never forget that good in you, do you understand?”

Luo Binghe opens his mouth to answer, but Shen Yuan’s mouth is on his again. The taste of his lips sends something like a jolt of electricity through Luo Binghe. He pulls Shen Yuan closer, and then—finally—the dream shatters into a million shards around them.

Chapter Text

【 SHEN QINGQIU 】

When Shen Qingqiu wakes, it is to the sound of soft conversation that almost lulls him right back to sleep. He has the strangest sense that—between the shattering of the dream in his home world and this moment of wakefulness—time is missing for him. He surfaces from an ink-like sleep slowly, incrementally becoming aware of the words being spoken nearby. Of the warm hand holding his, staving off the cold.

“This would make it feel good?” Luo Binghe’s inquisitive voice solidifies into words that Shen Qingqiu can understand.

“Likely, yes, though the specifics will be easier worked out between the two of you,” Mu Qingfang’s response is quick and calm. “This and the unguent that I have provided you with should suffice to make the experience passably bearable—no need to interrupt Shizhi. This master knows that you would prefer more than passable in terms of care for your shizun. These booklets should suffice in terms of more detail but as said, some of this comes down to specifics and preference.”

The fuck are you two talking about? Shen Qingqiu wonders, considering drifting back to sleep despite himself. Something to do with him? System? What is going on?

The lack of response is almost deafening to him. Shen Qingqiu is suddenly much more awake than moments ago, jolting upright and startling both Luo Binghe and Mu Qingfang. Luo Binghe’s cheeks are dusted an absolutely lovely shade of pink—no! Don’t get distracted. He can’t help but blurt out, “It’s gone!”

“Is something missing, Shen-shixiong?” Mu Qingfang asks, before Shen Qingqiu can really worry about the fact that he’s outed himself. Mu Qingfang takes Shen Qingqiu’s free wrist in his hand, sending a soothing pulse of qi through his meridians.

“The System—ah ah… uh. An entity that has been plaguing this master for many years,” Shen Qingqiu says, and Mu Qingfang’s eyes dart up to his face with clear alarm. Hastily he adds, “It wasn’t… quite possession. It was mostly harmless—usually. It gave this master duties and quests to fulfill, most of those ran in line with what I already wanted to do with the exception of ones I wish I never did. But I think Binghe killed it.”

I didn’t even think that was possible, Shen Qingqiu thinks to himself. It’s strange to know nothing will answer him if he calls out—not in a bad way, certainly. There are definitely aspects of the System that he is not going to miss in the slightest. When Mu Qingfang releases his wrist he rubs his temples with a sigh.

“How long, shixiong?” Mu Qingfang asks softly.

“Years—since the qi deviation,” Shen Qingqiu says, and Luo Binghe—the dear that he is—immediately jumps in so that Shen Qingqiu doesn’t reveal anything further. Like the fact that he isn’t Shen Qingqiu at all, and instead an imposter right under their noses.

“It was related to Shizun forgetting so much of his past,” Luo Binghe says smoothly. “Though I’m uncertain if it’s death will cause his memories too. I’ve never seen a thing like it before, Mu-shishu, it was like no normal spirit or demon. He couldn’t speak of it—the entity triggered a qi deviation when the curse caused the truth to come out.”

“Perhaps that’s why we never caught onto its possession—ah. It is probably for the best, had any of our methods found it out we may have mistakenly thought Shen Qingqiu a malicious spirit,” Mu Qingfang sighs. “This master must apologize to his shixiong, however, for not finding this sooner.”

To his horror, Mu Qingfang is moving to kowtow. Shen Qingqiu hastily catches his arm and sputters out, “Don’t! Don’t! It isn’t your fault Mu-shidi, truly, your care has been invaluable!”

Really, if anyone should be apologizing for inconveniencing anyone in this room, it’s Shen Qingqiu! He seems to manage to keep Mu Qingfang from doing so, and the man pauses as he comes to his full height. Shen Qingqiu sighs, and feels Luo Binghe squeeze his fingers. Shen Qingqiu turns to look up at him and his heart softens—Binghe’s eyes are warm as he watches him. Encouraging. Shen Qingqiu finds himself leaning into Luo Binghe’s shoulder with a sigh.

“My earlier examination shows that Shen-shixiong is strong enough to return to his home tonight without issue,” Mu Qingfang says. “He and Luo-shizhi should have no concerns, this master will keep the method which Luo-shizhi used to save Shen-shixiong to himself. What matters is that Shen-shixiong is alive and safe from whatever may have negative designs on his future now. You will need to speak with Sect Leader Yue and Liu-shidi tomorrow though, they were very concerned for your well-being. Ah, and your guest has been given lodging on Qiong Ding Peak for now.”

Ah. Qiu Haitang. Shen Qingqiu knows he’ll need to speak with her soon, she deserves some sort of conversation. One that Shen Qingqiu isn’t having while he isn’t actively freezing to death and delirious. The poor woman must be beside herself.

“I will, I will. Thank you, Mu-shidi, truly,” Shen Qingqiu says softly, and he means it. There’s a lot of damage that this could do, especially to Luo Binghe before he’s really gathered the right amount of backing. He finds himself looking up at his disciple again, admiring the angle of his jaw before Luo Binghe turns to smile at him.

Mu Qingfang’s expression is curiously blank as he ushers the two of them out of the room after that, pausing only to look Luo Binghe in the eye and sternly say, “Convince your fool of a master to dual cultivate and lift this curse, Luo-shizhi.”

“Of course, shishu!” Luo Binghe obediently chirps, while Shen Qingqiu feels as though his brain is blue-screening on him.

Did… Did Mu Qingfang basically just encourage his disciple to fuck him!? He gapes at the man, but Mu Qingfang has already shut the door to his clinic in their face. Shen Qingqiu feels like his features are going to burn off at this point. He groans, burying his face in his free hand—the other is still being held hostage by Luo Binghe—and heaves a tired sigh.

“Would Shizun prefer to fly?” Luo Binghe asks, and Shen Qingqiu is about to nod when Tiang Ling comes padding around the corner. The Plum Blossom Bear Hound’s little tail is wagging so much that her body is wiggling a little.

“Ah—surely we can’t leave Tiang-er?” Shen Yuan says, the beast presses her wide head against his hand before he can fret too much about the idea of petting an intelligent creature. “Thank you as well, for helping his Binghe to find this master.”

“Rrrruff!” Tiang Ling says, rounded ears twitching and dark eyes warm with happiness. Shen Qingqiu is sure she is pleased with the story she has gotten to take a surprising role in. He ruffles her ears, before lifting his head and catching Luo Binghe with wide, wet eyes. 

“Ah—are. Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu huffs. “Are you jealous of Tiang Ling?”

“...Shizun should only pet this disciple,” Luo Binghe says, somewhat sullenly. Tiang Ling lets out a snort that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. Shen Qingqiu rolls his eyes, but he lifts his hand up to gently pat Luo Binghe’s fluffy curls. His mischievous disciple gives him a smirk, before catching the hand in his hair and placing a searing kiss on the inside of Shen Qingqiu’s wrist.

Perhaps, despite the “hound” part of her name, Tiang Ling decides that she does not want to eat dog food. There is the sudden, cloying scent of plum blossoms and a howl. Then, with a flicker of a portal, Tiang Ling vanishes inside. Shen Qingqiu glimpses Bai Lu Forest beyond it, but the portal closes before he can really say goodbye. Ah. Well. At least he thanked her?

“Look what your PDA did,” Shen Qingqiu scolds Luo Binghe, trying to ignore the way his stomach flutters. “She’s gone and left before this master could ask if she would like us to make her and her pack some wine as a thank you.”

“We can thank her later, Shizun,” Luo Binghe murmurs, nuzzling the fragile skin of Shen Qingqiu’s wrist. Shen Qingqiu’s breath hitches despite himself.

“Just! Get on the sword!” Shen Qingqiu says, wrenching his hand free and pulling Xiu Ya out quickly. Luo Binghe’s laugh is warm and fond, and when he steps onto the blade behind him his arms wrap around Shen Qingqiu’s waist. Shen Qingqiu says nothing, and he knows that it is far too dark for Luo Binghe to see his blush.

────── 〔❅〕──────

Arriving at the Bamboo House, Shen Qingqiu doesn’t really find himself better able to shake Luo Binghe off. He manages, for a moment, to at least get Luo Binghe to stop holding him by the waist—it is making it almost impossible to walk!—but that lasts only as long as it takes for them to get into the main room. Shen Qingqiu is pulled close to Luo Binghe’s broad chest, and he finds himself immediately relaxing in his grip.

There’s no mentally dodging around this anymore, Shen Qingqiu had kissed Luo Binghe in that dream realm! And confessed to him! Aaaah! What is he meant to do now? Of course, things seem to be just fine now, Luo Binghe seems more than happy, but isn’t this breaking some sort of rule? Sys—oh. Right.

Hm.

“Would Shizun like some of the food we packed for the trip? The talismans have kept it warm for us,” Luo Binghe murmurs, jarring Shen Qingqiu from his thoughts. He finds himself nodding and then Luo Binghe leads them to the table. He lets go of Shen Qingqiu’s hand long enough to set the food out on the table. Of course, even for what was a planned picnic, the food is mouth-wateringly perfect.

“Binghe, this looks delicious,” Shen Qingqiu praises, taking some chopsticks and shamelessly aiming to pick up a delicious looking osmanthus cake. Before he snags it, he finds that he is being lifted up and he squawks with indignant surprise as Luo Binghe settles back down at the table.

With Shen Qingqiu in his lap.

Shen Qingqiu can feel heat on the back of his neck, and he gives Luo Binghe a chiding little flick on the nose. Luo Binghe does not look the slightest bit mollified, simply reaches for Shen Qingqiu’s chopsticks and picks up the osmanthus cake. He holds it up to Shen Qingqiu’s mouth, and Shen Qingqiu feels his eyebrow twitch.

Really, isn’t this too much!?

“Luo Binghe, I can feed myself,” Shen Qingqiu says, as primly as possible while seated shamelessly in another man’s lap.

“This disciple knows, but he wants to feed his A-Yuan,” Luo Binghe says.

Shen Qingqiu’s heart stutters and he stares at Luo Binghe. He isn’t sure what his expression must say, but Luo Binghe gently nudges his mouth with the cake and Shen Qingqiu obediently takes a bite. He finds his eyes darting away, feeling flustered and strangely pleased to hear Luo Binghe call him that.

“We will have to return—to the demon realm mansion, I mean. The beasts there deserve to be properly freed or placed in caring homes if that is best for them,” Shen Qingqiu says, trying to distract himself. “This master would like to oversee that.”

“This disciple did give coordinates to a trusted subordinate of his—ah. Shizun may know of him, because of the book. Mobei-Jun. He has been informed that you would like to be involved in their rehabilitation,” Luo Binghe rests his chin on Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder as he talks. The low timbre of his voice rumbles against Shen Qingqiu’s back, and Shen Qingqiu finds himself having to calm his breathing. “Is this agreeable to Shizun?”

“Of course, good job Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says, unable to hide the pride in his tone. His disciple preens under that, before sticking a piece of chicken under Shen Qingqiu’s nose to eat.

The rest of the meal is a simple affair. Luo Binghe points out dishes that he thinks that Shen Qingqiu should try, and Shen Qingqiu praises Luo Binghe for each one. It takes a little more pestering from Shen Qingqiu to ensure that Luo Binghe eats his fair share of their meal too. But soon they are well fed and Luo Binghe acquiesces to releasing Shen Qingqiu long enough for them to clean up after the meal. Shen Qingqiu takes the time to do his paperwork after that, and Luo Binghe sits and reads whatever it is that Mu Qingfang gave him. Then, really, it becomes too late to avoid it and it is time and to get ready for… ah. For bed.

Shen Qingqiu is very aware that Luo Binghe doesn’t look away as he dresses down. He knows that he’s been more undressed in public in his own world, but being in just his thin inner robes with Luo Binghe watching him with rapt attention makes Shen Qingqiu’s heart race. His pulse is noticeable in his ears, and he watches as Luo Binghe sheds his own outer layers for the night.

Really, by PIDW standards this is incredibly tame! Shen Qingqiu scolds himself, but he can feel the tension in the room ramping up. He slides into the bed and Luo Binghe joins him by climbing into the other side.

“Shizun is tense,” Luo Binghe says softly, gently pulling Shen Qingqiu close. Shen Qingqiu finds his face pressed against Luo Binghe’s chest. He can feel Luo Binghe’s heartbeat under his cheek, almost as fast as the rabbit pace of his own. It makes him feel a bit better, and he tries to focus on how low Binghe’s voice sounds as his disciple adds, “Shizun? Can this disciple ask something?”

“Of course, Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says softly, tracing nonsense patterns into the thin silk of Luo Binghe’s inner robe.

“This disciple would like… to please have Shizun reconsider dual-cultivation. Please Shizun! You would not be forcing this disciple, it is not merely for the cure to what ails you, but this… this Binghe is selfish. Allow him to show you the depth of his love through this?” Luo Binghe asks. Shen Qingqiu dares to peek up at his disciple’s face. Luo Binghe’s eyes are bright and clearly excited. Shen Qingqiu hides against his chest again.

Binghe really does have a nice chest. Very defined, what with all the muscles and big pecs. Binghe gently nudges him until Shen Qingqiu is forced to look him in the eye with an ill-tempered scowl.

“If Shizun prefers this disciple to stay at his side and never leave it for all his days he will,” Luo Binghe says solemnly. “But I love you, Shizun. I want you. If you want me too, then I would like to take you.”

This—this is the protagonist's allure! Or maybe it’s just that he thinks Luo Binghe beautiful, whether he’ a protagonist or not. He truly does have a sort of atmosphere that makes Shen Qingqiu’s mouth suddenly feel dry. He takes a shaky breath, and snakes an arm around Luo Binghe’s neck.

“I—yes,” Shen Qingqiu croaks, and before he can continue babbling—about how much he truly wants this man—Luo Binghe kisses him. Their teeth clack painfully for a second, but Luo Binghe seems to catch himself before Shen Qingqiu has to urge him to this time.

Shen Qingqiu opens his mouth to Luo Binghe, shivers as Binghe’s tongue presses against and tangles with his. He never knew kissing could feel like this. The taste of Luo Binghe, the feel of him claiming his mouth so dominantly, sends a thrill down his spine that makes Shen Qingqiu want to squirm.

Binghe still bites, drawing Shen Qingqiu’s lower lip between his teeth and nipping just on the edge of too hard. Shen Qingqiu pinches Luo Binghe’s side for that, but the other man only groans low in his throat. Then, he's pressing closer to Luo Binghe as they kiss. Then, he finds himself underneath Luo Binghe, caged in by his warmth and broad body. He is surrounded by Luo Binghe, and though he knows it would take the slightest pressure on Binghe’s chest to cause him to back off, he thrills at the idea that he is weaker than this man. That, body and soul, Luo Binghe truly has him in the palm of his hand.

“Shizun, Shizun, Shizun,” Luo Binghe chants, pulling away to kiss Shen Qingqiu’s neck. His lips are hot against the sensitive skin, and teeth press against his neck—against the pulse point, leaving what must be marks against his skin. Shen Qingqiu feel like he is gasping for air, his brain feels fuzzy and he realizes that he is already half-hard. Luo Binghe’s body presses down against him, and Shen Qingqiu brain statics when he feels Luo Binghe’s erection against his own. Heavy and hot, even through the flimsy layers between them. “ Shizun.”

“You—I shouldn’t let you call me that,” Shen Qingqiu gasps, and Luo Binghe grinds down against him. The slide of silk and weight of Luo Binghe’s cock make Shen Qingqiu’s hips twitch up. He’s breathless, “Not while we’re like this.”

“You shouldn’t?” Luo Binghe murmurs against the other side of Shen Qingqiu’s neck. He sucks a bruise there, and Shen Qingqiu fucking whines —a high pitched, needy sound that makes him feel a burst of shame.

“I’m not… some creep,” Shen Qingqiu shivers as Luo Binghe’s fingers—he swears they are scalding hot against his skin—start to peel the final layers between them away. Binghe sits up a bit to do so, and cocks his head like a puppy at Shen Qingqiu’s words. “It could seem like I am.”

“This disciple knows,” Luo Binghe chuckles softly, “Shizun, do you know how many of my dreams wished you would allow me to have you? For you to take me? Ah—Shizun, Shizun, you were not the dirty one in our relationship.”

“Y—you!? Binghe!” Shen Qingqiu squeaks, the idea of touching the young, white-lotus version of his beloved Luo Binghe is utterly scandalous to Shen Qingqiu. Luo Binghe chuckles, finally getting tired of the sash holding Shen Qingqiu’s robes together and tearing it.

Shen Qingqiu has a second to be embarrassed under Luo Binghe’s gaze—regardless of how reverent it is, Shen Qingqiu is who he is after all—before Luo Binghe’s lips ghost over his sternum. To his nipple, and then he laves his tongue against it and Shen Qingqiu shivers.

“Oh—that!” Shen Qingqiu chokes on a moan as Luo Binghe gently bites it between his teeth. Shen Qingqiu arches his back a little, finding Luo Binghe is pushing his pants and small clothes down. “Ah!”

“Shizun is so beautiful,” Luo Binghe says with wonder in his voice. Shen Qingqiu manages to shoot him a glare and he quirks a slight smile at him, “A-Yuan, look how hard you are for this Binghe.”

As if to emphasize his point, and before Shen Qingqiu can really scold him for that awful pornographic line, Luo Binghe takes Shen Qingqiu’s cock in hand. Shen Qingqiu isn’t necessarily small, and the head is flushed a red-pink, but the difference in how Luo Binghe holds him has Shen Qingqiu groaning low in his throat. Luo Binghe’s hand is rough with callouses—broader and larger than Shen Qingqiu’s own. Precum leaks from the head in a steady stream, and Shen Qingqiu finds himself thrusting into Luo Binghe’s fist despite himself. Chasing the pleasure of that grip around him.

“Binghe—ah!” Shen Qingqiu shudders as Luo Binghe presses his thumb under the head. Then, Binghe lets go for a moment to fiddle with something else and Shen Qingqiu is left reeling and feeling breathless. He tries to gather his bearings, only has enough to catch the small jar in Luo Binghe’s hands that he is rubbing between his palms. When his fingers are slicked up he moves his hand and Shen Qingqiu catches his wrist, chest heaving. “Wait, wait. Just—just put it in.”

Luo Binghe’s mahogany eyes flick up to meet Shen Qingqiu’s. He can hardly see the color in them, his pupils are so wide. Shen Qingqiu notices that a glowing red seeps into them every now and then. The desire on Luo Binghe’s face is arresting, and Shen Qingqiu shivers under the intensity of it.

“This disciple wants A-Yuan to feel good,” Luo Binghe says softly. He leans forward to kiss Shen Qingqiu, to pepper his face with them. Shen Qingqiu realizes with a mixture of fond amusement that Luo Binghe’s eyes seem to be wet with tears, “Won’t he allow this Binghe to please him?”

“It—can it feel good?” Shen Qingqiu asks, incredulous. He hasn’t really looked into this kind of thing before! Luo Binghe blinks at him and the tears seem to dry up and he laughs. Shen Qingqiu frowns at him, but Luo Binghe kisses his forehead, his nose, his cheeks. Shen Qingqiu sighs, “Alright, you… ah, go ahead.”

He can’t bring himself to say it, okay!?

Luo Binghe circles Shen Qingqiu’s rim, rubbing the slick appendage into the furled muscle. Shen Qingqiu, though he cannot see it, finds himself lying back and holding his arm over his face. He feels like he’s entirely on fire—the opposite problem he’s typically been having lately. Then, with an insistent pressure, Binghe’s finger presses inside.

The sensation is not as bad as he imagined—the unguent helps aid Binghe as he slowly enters his body. Shen Qingqiu is still not quite sure about it feeling good, but it doesn’t feel bad. He swallows around the rush of saliva in his mouth and tries not to shudder at the feeling of Binghe moving his finger around in there.

“What are—!” Shen Qingqiu’s words choke off when Luo Binghe’s questing finger presses against something deep inside of him. A crackle of pleasure floods through him, and Shen Qingqiu barely claps his hand over his mouth to muffle his moan. Luo Binghe begins to thrust his finger inside of him, slowly working him open and pressing against that spot. Shen Qingqiu moans into his palm each time.

It’s good—in a torturous way. He finds that he doesn’t even mind when the second and third finger join the first. The fourth is a bit more of a stretch, but every brush against his prostate has Shen Qingqiu’s hips jerking anyway. His voice keeps getting higher and higher, and he isn’t sure when he stopped covering his face to start jerking himself off but he is. The combined pleasure is sending Shen Qingqiu hurtling toward a finish, but before he quite can reach it, Luo Binghe catches his wrist and pulls his fingers out with a lewd noise.

The whine that Shen Qingqiu makes would humiliate him if he were thinking of anything other than how close he was. He’s breathing heavily and he stares up at Luo Binghe through his lashes before Binghe’s mouth descends on him again. He groans into the kiss, and when his hands are free he finds himself pulling at Luo Binghe’s clothes. He fumbles to remove them, but when he gets his hand on smooth skin he feels like fire is tracing his spine. Luo Binghe pulls his own pants down and pulls away to slick his cock up and—fuck.

It’s fucking huge.

“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu croaks out. He wants to say that it’s far too big. He wants to say that he will break. But he’s under a fucking truth curse, and all that comes out is a desperate, “Binghe please. ”

Luo Binghe’s breath catches and he feels that hot, blunt head pressed against his entrance. Shen Qingqiu’s mouth falls open and he finds his arms around Luo Binghe’s neck and shoulders as Binghe pushes forward. Even with four fingers, the pressure feels immense, and for a hysterical moment Shen Qingqiu wonders if he’ll fit. Then, the tight muscle gives and the head of Luo Binghe’s cock pushes inside of him. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Shen Qingqiu utters, unable to stop the litany of curses to even pretend at this moment. Luo Binghe pauses in his push forward. There is a burn now, even with the unguent, the stretch takes Shen Qingqiu’s breath away. But he pulls Binghe closer, gasps out, “More.”

Binghe’s eyes are dark with desire and demonic instinct, his hips jerk and he seats even more of himself inside of Shen Qingqiu. He’s hot and so hard as he spreads Shen Qingqiu open. That thick cock bullies its way inside of Shen Qingqiu in a way that makes him feel stretched taught. Like every inch of him is filled, like he’s being reached into so deeply that his heart and lungs will be speared on Luo Binghe.

By the time that Binghe’s hips are flush with his ass, Shen Qingqiu’s thighs are trembling and his throat feels tight. He realizes, distantly, that he’s clawing at Binghe’s shoulders as he struggles for purchase. He drops one hand to Binghe’s chest instead, pressed where his lover’s heart is racing as he tries to ground himself in something that isn’t the overwhelming feeling of being filled by that monster cock.

The rugged scar under his palm doesn’t dampen that heartbeat, but it does bring some sobriety to Shen Qingqiu’s mental state. He rubs his thumb over it tenderly, and he feels something wet dripping onto his arm. When he looks up, Luo Binghe is in tears again.

“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu’s voice is hoarse but tender. He takes Luo Binghe’s face in his hands, presses a kiss on his brow. Right where his demon mark is. As he does, it flares to life, as if Luo Binghe can’t hold the human disguise any longer. He can feel his lover trembling. “My Binghe. Keep… keep…”

His voice dries up but Luo Binghe seems to catch on. He pulls out before rolling his hips back in before starting to thrust. Shen Qingqiu tilts his head back, feeling like the air has been punched from his lungs. Luo Binghe’s strokes aren’t so rough that it hurts at this point, but the overwhelming size makes it hard to quite shake the feeling that his guts are getting rearranged around him. The fingering part really was much better than—

“Aah!” Shen Qingqiu cries as Luo Binghe thrusts and the head of his cock brushes his prostate. Luo Binghe adjusts his angle, and the next thrust nails it again. Shen Qingqiu’s back arches and he hooks a leg over Luo Binghe’s hip with a moan.

After that, Binghe seems to have found the secret. Shen Qingqiu finds himself crushed under his lover as Luo Binghe thrusts into him with increasing speed. Each time, his cock slams home and Shen Qingqiu’s hips twitch or he moans. Heat floods through him, and he hooks his other leg around Binghe’s waist, trying to move his hips to help facilitate the delicious pleasure of his prostate getting hammered.

Then, Binghe starts thrusting deeper into him. Shen Qingqiu moans as Binghe’s cockhead hits his prostate, and then the rest of that cock bullies into him, presses against that tight bundle of nerves and leaves him twitching and whining. He’s panting, finds his fingers knotted in Binghe’s curled hair.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Shen Qingqiu isn’t sure if the curse makes him more honest with this too or not. It feels like every noise he makes he can’t hold in, the pleasure far too much to override with his sense of shame. He desperately pulls Binghe’s mouth to his, kissing him hard and sloppily. Binghe’s biting is more prominent, but with the increasing strength of his thrusts, Shen Qingqiu can’t bring himself to care.

“Shizun—A-Yuan—you’re so tight around me,” Luo Binghe says between their open mouths. Shen Qingqiu moans as Binghe pulls almost all the way out and then thrusts back in hard. His eyes roll into the back of his head, and he can feel his own cock pressing against Binghe’s abs. “You’re taking me so well Shizun, doesn’t it feel good?”

Shen Qingqiu can’t answer, he’s beyond words at this point. He fucks himself onto Luo Binghe’s cock as best he can under him, moving his hips and whining with each thrust into his body. He can feel himself approaching the edge again rapidly, and he hears it in his voice.

“Binghe—ah, ah! Binghe!” Shen Qingqiu moans, and then, Luo Binghe nails his prostate again and white crashes over him. Shen Qingqiu’s back arches as he orgasms, his cum splashing between them and his voice a desperate moan. Binghe continues fucking him through his climax, his own thrusts becoming uneven before a burst of warmth floods him as Luo Binghe moans. Warmth floods through Shen Qingqiu’s veins in the wake of it—he feels Binghe’s spiritual energy swirling around his own and shoring up his reserves.There is the sunlight warmth of Luo Binghe’s spiritual qi, but something burns with it too. A wilder kind of heat. As that warmth slowly fades to a distant buzz it doesn’t completely leave. Like a feral guard dog, one that only allows him to pet it, has made its home in his heart. 

Binghe manages to roll them to the side for a moment as he falls next to Shen Qingqiu. He pulls him close, pressing his lips to Shen Qingqiu’s temple. Shen Qingqiu takes a shaky breath, and they hear something crack. As one, they look down at the hand that wore that cursed ring, and that ring snaps down the middle. It seems to melt like ice after that, leaving no trace behind in the wake of their coupling.

Shen Qingqiu sighs, and turns to press a soft kiss to the scar on Binghe’s chest.

He’ll be embarrassed about this later, he’s sure. Right now, he’s still experiencing the afterglow and idle warmth of being so completely loved. And he’s tired. He doesn’t want to deal with it right now.

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe says softly. “Can you lie to this disciple?”

“Mm?” Shen Qingqiu lifts his head. He runs fingers through Binghe’s hair. “Hm, this master cannot.”

Luo Binghe’s eyes widen and Shen Qingqiu grins at him, before tapping his nose.

“That. Was a lie,” Shen Qingqiu chuckles as Luo Binghe’s eyes narrow and squawks when he’s suddenly pulled tightly into his embrace.

“Not funny Shizun!” Luo Binghe declares, kissing Shen Qingqiu’s face.

“Pff—hey! What did I say about calling me Shizun when we’re like this?” Shen Qingqiu sputters, but he takes Luo Binghe’s face in his hands again anyway and he kisses him. Once, again, and another time. “Binghe?”

“Yes, A-Yuan?” Luo Binghe obediently asks.

“This master desperately needs a bath,” Shen Qingqiu says. His old hips are too sore to walk on his own! He can cajole his lover into getting him a bath ready, surely!? Especially after taking a dick that big! Ah!! It feels so good to complain about his old self again.

“This disciple will run a bath,” Luo Binghe says, kissing Shen Qingqiu slowly. And if Shen Qingqiu allows him to deepen that kiss, and if he pulls Binghe a little closer, then well—that’s just between him and Binghe, isn’t it?

Chapter Text

【 LUO BINGHE 】

Months later—with New Year’s fast approaching—Luo Binghe ignores the chill bite in the air as he makes his way up Qing Jing Peak’s stairway. Truly, Luo Binghe itches to just use Xin Mo to step into the Bamboo House. He holds off though, forcing his long stride to not completely overtake Ning Yingying as the two of them make their way up to the top of the peak. Truthfully, Luo Binghe is happy to see his friend again, but Shen Qingqiu is like a magnetic force to him. He is tugged that way unerringly, and every step he takes reminds him more and more that he’s not at his master’s side.

“Thank you for helping this shijie, A-Luo,” Ning Yingying says with a barely restrained sigh. “I don’t know how many trips it would have taken me to get all of these talismans onto the mountain.”

“Happy to help shijie,” Luo Binghe says, but he doesn’t bother to hide his sulking and she laughs before elbowing him. He heaves a very dramatic sigh, “It isn’t as though there is something else this Binghe would prefer to do.”

“Aiyah, if you talk to Shizun about this like that he’ll make me run laps!” Ning Yingying scolds him, “Don’t forget that you volunteered A-Luo! I’m not keeping you from Shizun or anything.”

“Shijie is so cruel, keeping this Binghe from his only true happiness,” Luo Binghe says mournfully. Ning Yingying rolls her eyes at him as they reach the top of the stairway, “And he’ll have to help her sort them now too…”

“You can just ask to go see Shizun. Like a normal person would,” Ning Yingying says. Luo Binghe chuckles to himself and Ning Yingying hums thoughtfully. “Will A-Luo be spending New Years with us on Qing Jing? I know that Yue-shibo is planning on fireworks this year, but we’ve all got performances to show Shizun to welcome the new year!”

“Mn, Shizun likes to be surrounded by a lot of people he cares about for holidays,” Luo Binghe says confidently. As loath as Luo Binghe is to share his Shizun’s attention on special days, he knows that Shen Qingqiu will want to be around the disciples and other people he loves during the holiday. He can’t help but remember the pictures lining the hallway of Shen Yuan’s apartment, the melancholy that had been on his face back then.

“We’ll let the kitchen know they don’t need to bother cooking his dinner then,” Ning Yingying says with a laugh. She sets the box of talismans she’s been carrying and as Luo Binghe sets the three down that he had in hand she waves him off. “Now go, this shijie has this part covered. Shizun will wonder why you’ve taken so long to go to him anyway.”

Luo Binghe barely hears the end of her sentence—it melts into laughter and is fading behind him because he’s already walking away. He’s glad that his shijie is willing to be playful with him. Not everyone on Qing Jing is happy with Luo Binghe—even with Shizun welcoming him back with open arms, the reality of their relationship has caused waves in the jianghu. Luo Binghe has refused to make his feelings a secret, and to his utter delight so has his lover. Shen Qingqiu has been openly accepting the steps Luo Binghe has made to court him with grace.

As much as Luo Binghe hates the people that nip at his Shizun’s heels like over-eager dogs that don’t know their place, he will not deny that there is incredible satisfaction in finding Shen Qingqiu’s hand in his own. It is almost always absent-minded, done naturally, and it does more than make his heart sing when he sees the angry looks of those that covet his Shizun’s presence.

Luo Binghe has to take a hasty step backward to avoid being bowled over by an over enthusiastic Tiang Ling. The Plum Blossom Bear Hound is running full-tilt through the snow, despite the winter weather her pelt is still covered with little buds of flowers. At her heels, yelling in delight, some of the younger disciples chase after her. They’re covered in mud from where they’ve surely fallen a few times—judging the state of the snow left in their wake, Luo Binghe can see why. He raises an eyebrow as they go, only to glance over his shoulder to see Qiu Haitang standing a few li away.

Speaking of the ones that covet his shizun—Qiu Haitang. Shen Qingqiu has long explained that he does not have feelings for her (he never has, Luo Binghe wants to crow at her) and yet she still hangs around Qing Jing Peak like a lost puppy. Shen Qingqiu insists she isn’t doing any harm. Since she knows that Shen Qingqiu—well, Shen Yuan —isn’t responsible for the murder of her family, she seems more determined to make herself useful as repayment. Or to once again become close to Shen Qingqiu, more likely. Luo Binghe wishes that he could tell her that the man she knew died long ago, but that is for Shizun to decide who to tell and who not to tell. Especially considering how most would likely react.

But now she’s here all the time—sometimes she’ll go to Xian Shu, if Shen Qingqiu can get her to do so. Most of the time she hangs about like a ghost that Shen Qingqiu is too kind to banish.

He narrows his eyes at her, and she narrows her own back. Still, she doesn’t approach or say anything. Then, with a whirl of his robes and with his chin held high, Luo Binghe continues toward the Bamboo House.

Despite himself, he picks up into a run until he reaches the door. As he throws it open he sees Shen Qingqiu sitting on his bamboo couch with a book in his lap. Shen Qinqiu immediately relaxes, huffing as he holds his arms open, “What’s the hurry?”

Luo Binghe’s heart soars, and he finds himself in the arms of the person who matters most to him in the world. Shen Qingqiu smells like his soap and faintly of whatever tea he must have had earlier in the day. Luo Binghe buries his face against his robes and hears Shen Qingqiu chuckle at him a little, “So sticky Binghe. Did something happen?”

“No, this disciple just helped Ning-shijie with some talismans,” Luo Binghe says studiously. Shen Qingqiu’s hands are warm on his back as they rub soothing circles there. Luo Binghe, for his part, sinks into the love and affection that his beloved shows to him with a pleased hum. Shen Qingqiu only adjusts his hold to allow Luo Binghe to get to his knees in front of the couch with a soft huff, “How has A-Yuan been?”

Shen Qingqiu clears his throat, seemingly flustered. Luo Binghe chuckles—his shizun seems to especially enjoy being called that by him. He isn’t sure if he’ll ever get used to it, but Luo Binghe adores that he knows his love’s real name. That, for all the people he knows in this world, it is Binghe who knows him really and truly. 

Not Liu Qingge, Yue Qingyuan or Shang Qinghua—Luo Binghe knows Shen Yuan. That is more than they will ever know. Luo Binghe presses himself closer to Shen Qingqiu, ignoring the light bapping on top of his head as Shen Qingqiu repeatedly smacks him with his fan. Luo Binghe squints his eyes at him with a laugh.

“A-Yuan didn’t answer this Binghe,” Luo Binghe says, and Shen Qingqiu holds his face in his hands. After a pause, a quick glance around the room to ensure that they are alone, he watches his beloved’s face relax slightly.

“It’s been a long day,” Shen Qingqiu murmurs, placing a kiss on Luo Binghe’s brow. “The Peak Lord Meeting was a bitch to get through—ah! Your Mu-shishu has given me a place that you and I can go to look for herbs sometime when we’re traveling, if Binghe would like. The food they had there isn’t as good as Binghe’s of course, so I didn’t eat much…”

Luo Binghe presses a kiss to one of Shen Qingqiu’s palms. His heart feels warm and soft, like it is floating in his chest.

This is a side of Shen Qingqiu Luo Binghe has earned the privilege to see. His reticent master is still hesitant to say or do some things—sometimes he gets shy because of his thin face, but when they are alone he relaxes the mask around Binghe now. It is incredible to know that Binghe is not just loved, not just trusted, but safety to the man that he loves more than anything in this world. He peppers kisses along the delicate skin on the inside of Shen Qingqiu’s wrist, and his shizun shivers lightly before flicking him on the forehead with his free hand.

“Binghe, it’s the middle of the afternoon,” Shen Qingqiu scolds. Luo Binghe only smiles at Shen Qingqiu beatifically. Despite his contrarian master’s words, Shen Qingqiu’s fingers grip onto Luo Binghe’s outer robes. He pulls Binghe up toward him, and Luo Binghe thrills at the taste of Shen Qingqiu’s lips. He licks into his mouth eagerly, and for all his scolding earlier, Luo Binghe finds himself with a lap full of Shen Qingqiu in short order.

It doesn’t—for now—go much further than that. The two of them trade lazy kisses while sprawled on the floor of the Bamboo House. Luo Binghe knows that if anyone were to walk in on them like this that Shen Qingqiu would be mortified, so he keeps track of the sounds beyond their little world. Other than that, he lets himself sink into the love that he feels for this man in his arms. He feels Shen Qingqiu sigh more than sees or hears it, and his Shizun rests his head against his shoulder.

“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says softly, “You never told this master what you wanted?”

“Hm?” Luo Binghe asks, resting his head against Shen Qingqiu’s. They are so close that Luo Binghe can imagine that he can feel Shen Qingqiu’s heartbeat. The thought soothes him immeasurably.

“When you first agreed to help the master with his curse,” Shen Qingqiu says softly.

“Shizun is thinking of that again?” Luo Binghe asks, taking one of Shen Qingqiu’s hands so that he can kiss each finger individually. Shen Qingqiu’s fingers twitch but he doesn’t pull his hand away. “This Binghe has what he wanted now.”

Shen Qingqiu’s brow furrows as he as he peers at Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe flashes him a smile, pressing another kiss to the back of his Shizun’s knuckles. “What were you going to ask for?”

“For this Binghe to be able to come back home—to prove to Shizun that this Binghe would be good to him,” Luo Binghe says. He lets his his lower to stare at their joined hands, rubbing his thumb over the back of Shen Qingqiu’s as he says, “This Binghe wanted the chance to be with Shizun at all.”

Shen Qingqiu swallows and presses his face against Binghe’s neck. Luo Binghe lets himself be held like this—he isn’t sure why his master is thinking of their reunion. He knows it could have gone better—but truly, could have gone much worse. He is just happy that they are together again. That Luo Binghe is not just with Shen Qingqiu, but able to hold him like this.

“My Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu sighs softly, kissing Luo Binghe again. Luo Binghe hums, letting himself melt into the kiss. “This master was thinking—in my world, after marriage, there is usually ah… a period of time where people are alone together. Called a honeymoon, this master was wondering if Binghe’s wish was something similar to that.”

Luo Binghe is many things—but being the kind of man to want Shen Qingqiu all to himself is absolutely one of them. He perks up at the words, his heart doing a little flip in his chest. Shen Qingqiu’s face has that lovely blush he gets when he talks about things like this. Luo Binghe has to resist the urge to brush his fingers against his cheekbones.

“Shizun?” Luo Binghe asks softly.

“You’re going to make me say it,” Shen Qingqiu sniffs at him.

“Please?” Luo Binghe asks him.

“...Would Binghe go away with this master after we marry?” Shen Qingqiu asks him, lifting his head to kiss Luo Binghe. His lips are still close as he murmurs, “Just us two, a few months in this world. This master knows it is selfish to ask…”

“Shizun is never selfish enough,” Luo Binghe interrupts. “This Binghe will go wherever Shizun wishes. To any corner of the world! Happily.”

Shen Qingqiu pauses and he smiles at him. A soft smile that has more love than Luo Binghe ever expected to have in his life. Those hands pull Luo Binghe in for another kiss. This one is slow and sweet, so tender that Luo Binghe feels that his heart may melt. Or start on fire.

“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu whispers, a soft secret just for the two of them. “I love you.”

And that, Binghe knows, is the truth.