Chapter Text
Shizun had developed an interesting habit over the course of two years or so.
Since the day he'd taught Luo Binghe how to properly maintain his curls, if Luo Binghe was close enough to touch without thinking, his shizun would lift his hand and tug— no, not quite tug, it was always so gentle, but he- he would- toy with his hair, like his curls (and the whole of him, by extension) were there for Shizun's personal enjoyment! Oh, the thought thrilled Luo Binghe greatly .
Especially since Shizun would, after a while, smooth down the curls he'd disturbed before starting the process again. The feeling of Shizun's gentle palm cradling his head would remain in Luo Binghe's list of Favorite Things Ever until the end of time.
And so Luo Binghe made it his personal mission to be within patting range of Shizun as often as humanly possible. If he was close, but not close enough, Shizun would do this horrible thing— he'd raise his hand as if to start his blessed fidgeting, then- and then- drop it! As if he'd remembered propriety and thought better of himself! As if Luo Binghe wasn't a good enough disciple to reward with all that heavenly petting! Truly, his master was cruel. So cruel.
Really, all Luo Binghe wanted was to crawl into his master's lap and receive his pets properly there amidst his body's warmth, but his shizun was proper and upright— he'd push him off, ever gentle, and tell him that accepting such affections would be inappropriate , whatever that even meant. Binghe thought this set of societal rules entirely ridiculous, but if his teacher said so, that was that. He supposed he would just have to wait.
Not too much longer, he mused to himself, and he could court his shizun in an entirely appropriate and respectable manner, and all would be right with the world.
"Binghe."
Ah, blessed sound. Luo Binghe internally thanked whatever higher power ensured that he was not born deaf.
(Somewhere on An Ding peak, Shang Qinghua sneezed directly into a bowl of soup, splattering it in all directions.)
"Yes, Shizun?"
"Come, help your master with these reports."
"At once."
Luo Binghe seated himself as close to his master as appearances would allow, and sure enough, Shen Qingqiu's hand came up to cradle Luo Binghe's hair almost immediately. Luo Binghe suppressed a euphoric little shiver.
Shizun never pets Ming Fan like this, he thought, a satisfied grin sneaking across his face, before tossing the thought of that vermin far out of his mind so that he might fully enjoy his master's touch.
"Thank you for being so reliable, Binghe," Shen Qingqiu said to him a while later. "This master is truly grateful for your help. You've been so eager to do paperwork with me recently, this master honestly wonders if I'm overworking you... Shall I cut back on our sword lessons?"
Binghe nearly sobbed, but he kept his face smooth. "No, please— this lowly one is only ever honored to be of service to Shizun. If there's anything else your Binghe can do to help, please call on him."
Shen Qingqiu's eyes went all soft (take! that! Ming! Fan!) and he caressed the crown of Luo Binghe's head with one hand, opening his fan with the other. Luo Binghe could swear he heard him mumble "Ah, what a little darling", but such affectionate verbiage was just too unlike his aloof master, even with his qi deviation. Luo Binghe brushed it off as wishful thinking.