Work Text:
How everything starts
«Proud Immortal Demon Way» was a novel Shen Yuan picked up in college. A class got cancelled that day and his group went back to the dorms. Bro number one and bro number two began playing some online game, bro number four ran off on a date, and Shen Yuan himself went to a website to read.
His eyes caught on a «Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky» nickname, he opened the first chapter… and it escalated from there.
It was easier to think about «Proud Immortal Demon Way» rather than listen to the doctor. The doctor was sympathetic, but his sympathy was most likely perfunctory.
— Mister Shen, Madam Ye, I regret to inform you that your son…
Mom was weeping quietly, and squeezed his hand until it hurt, while Shen Yuan himself clenched his teeth until they hurt just as much.
«I can’t cry, — he thought, — I can’t. If… — he stumbled. Who wouldn’t cry? Liu Qingge? He died. Luo Binghe? Shen Yuan was too wimpy to be a protagonist, but Luo Binghe did possess uncommon tenacity. Not to mention that the number of his wives and concubines was in triple digits. — If it was Luo Binghe, he wouldn’t cry. — Shen Yuan clenched his fists. — So how can I cry when I was not even once thrown into the Endless Abyss?»
He was prescribed treatment that day.
And the very same day he registered at that website and beat «Proud Immortal Demon Way» to pieces, starting from the first chapters.
What happens next
Shen Yuan had trouble walking and at times he even had trouble sitting, but he still went to study. Luo Binghe wouldn’t skip classes.
The treatment didn’t help Shen Yuan, and he was prescribed a new one. He didn’t have much longer to live, so he lived through «Proud Immortal Demon Way», which is why he wanted the novel to be more… to be less of a...
«You son of a bitch! — Shen Yuan labored over the keyboard and fell back on the hospital bed in exhaustion. — Just when are you going to write properly?! It’s full of plot holes, how about you do something about those!»
It wasn’t nearly the first time Shen Yuan wrote something to that effect. Luo Binghe didn’t cry over the death of his adoptive mother, but if he read «Proud Immortal Demon Way» he would have wept blood. It wasn’t a novel, it was a disgrace.
«It’s a disgrace of a novel, — Shen Yuan posted in response to a new chapter. — It’s a national disgrace. What is the Department of Education doing? What is the party doing?»
That very same evening he got a private message from Airplane-Towards-The-Sky. The tone of the message was humble.
«Would brother Peerless Cucumber be so kind to advice...»
That was the start of their extensive correspondence.
What all of this leads to
They exchanged messages often — way too often for mere acquaintances connected by only a piece of bad literature. At one point it occurred to Shen Yuan that he wasn’t the only one living through «Proud Immortal Demon Way».
Airplane was sketchy as an author, but he did love his characters. Good and bad, scums and heroes — all of them. He really did have a big heart… but on the other hand, he wasn’t the one sleeping in a windswept shack, falling into the abyss or losing all his limbs.
Airplane was a sketchy author while Shen Yuan was a sketchy editor. The novel got bigger and didn’t get better, but now both of them were dragged through the mud.
One night Airplane offered to meet and down a bottle of erguotou, and, stupid as it was, Shen Yuan agreed. He escaped hospital in his pajamas and slippers. Fortunately it was summer.
He wavered for a while by the door of the snack bar, but entered. He recognized Airplane at first glance — he was young and thin, with small features and eyes of a puppy who piddled in the wrong place. Shen Yuan wanted to give him a hug and a wallop at the same time.
— Airplane? — he asked upon approach.
— Brother Cucumber! — Airplane opened his arms for a hug… then took one look at Shen Yuan and put them down.
«Should have hit him after all», — Shen Yuan sat at the table.
Airplane watched his with fearful eyes, and it seemed like he was too scared to even breathe.
— Erguotou, — Shen Yuan said. — We were going to drink erguotou.
It was easier to talk after some erguotou… at least, it was until Shen Yuan vomited right into a bowl with lamb’s leg.
Airplane dragged him back to the hospital, and Shen Yuan couldn’t tell who needed the doctor the most between the two of them.
— Bro, you aren’t dying, are you? — Airplane asked.
— No. — Shen Yuan’s lying was almost as convincing as that of blackened Luo Binghe.
How everything ends
Shen Yuan died before he could finish the most recent update.
— Stupid author! Stupid novel! — was the only thing he managed to say before the tablet fell out of his hands and onto the hospital bed. The last thing Shen Yuan saw was Airplane’s pale face and apples rolling on the floor.
«And now, — thoughts died out like fireflies, — he’s left without a helper. The novel will only get worse. Good thing I won’t be there to see it».
How everything starts again
Shen Yuan — or rather, Shen Qingqiu — took a sip out of his cup and looked at the lord of An Ding Peak. Shang Qinghua looked back with an expression of someone who stumbled upon a beautiful and venomous snake, not knowing whether he should admire it or take flight. He looked like a puppy who piddled in the wrong place.
«Yeah, dream on», — Shen Qingqiu rebuffed himself.
— Drink your tea, — he said, omitting the «esteemed martial brother» part, making Shang Qinghua twitch and turn his cup over. The tea spilled over the table, the Shen Qingqiu’s fan and Shang Qinghua himself.
— Fuck! — the latter gasped — and that was no ancient Chinese — and quickly put a hand over his mouth.
— Too late. — Shen Qingqiu shook tea droplets off his fan. A wave of surprising tenderness came over him… and passed just as fast, as soon as Shang Qinghua’s eyes showed a succession of recognition, relief, joy and then rising dread. He looked at Shen Qingqiu’s hand, and Shen Qingqiu knew exactly what he was thinking.
Shen Qingqiu himself spent sleepless nights thinking the same thing.
— For starters, — he said, — we’ll grow me a new, distinct body. That way I will be able to escape Luo Binghe’s revenge.
— Two bodies, — Shang Qinghua corrected in a hurry. — I need an escape too.
Shen Qingqiu’s eyebrows rose.
— And to whom did you sell out already?
— Southern demons. Northern demons. Huan Hua Palace. Zhao Hua Temple, a couple of influential clans… — Shang Qinghua counted on his fingers.
— Fine, two bodies. We’ll grow us two bodies, and settle down somewhere in the boonies. I’ll take up turnip farming.
— And I, — Shang Qinghua’s eyes lit up in a nasty way, — shall be a writer again! Under a pen name, of course. There are no airplanes here… What do you think about «Quipster of Lan Ling»?