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Amaranth

Summary:

Shang Qinghua was definitely, not particularly, alive-alive.

Luckily, this author has written more than one Xanxia novel in his previous lifetime.

Notes:

Welp, Another Angst! Don't get me wrong, I love Moshang! But I'm feeling so bad rn I'm writing them like this a lot more than I want to. TTo TT

As you can tell, my sadness will only darken Moshang Week, so I am greeting all those who will participate a big "GOOD LUCK!" XD I'm so excited to read works and look at fan arts Next Week!!! XD XD XD

Work Text:

Shang Qinghua wakes from a sleep that is unlike sleep. If he even woke at all and not just simply closed his eyes for 8 hours straight, laying beside his King, waiting for the moment his breathing pattern changes and he moves to shift him closer to him.

"Qinghua-" he mumbles sleepily in the morning, voice deep and pleasing, sending good shivers down his spine.

"I'm here My King." He greets. "Good Morning." Not a trace of tiredness in his voice. Almost perky even.

"Hmmm," Mobei-jun hums in satisfaction. Snuggles closer to the chilled body beneath him. Careful with his hold, as if afraid to cause a bruise.

 

This was their life now. What should have been warmth and love and contentment, all hung on a single thin string above their heads. The subject left unsaid, the issue left unnoticed. Both wanted to try, but both afraid to break the bond.

Shang Qinghua snuggles closer, hugs tighter, tells him to hug him tighter; as if reaching for a warmth that doesn’t exist in the Ice Demon. The Ice Demon indulges him- careful; still helplessly, eternally in- love. He was forever in-love. And nothing was going to take him away- not again.

~O~

Yue Qingyuan does not stare at his Shidi for 5 minutes straight while he prattles on about his report on the costs of things they don't particularly need all season and less things they'd need, like coal and fleece blankets and new sheets for the teenage disciples of every damn peak every month or so. 

Yue Qingyuan notices tho... the paleness of his skin, lacking that bright flush on his sun-tanned face. The black veins on his throat, the few that stuck out from underneath An Ding robes, piled over each other layer upon layer despite the forgiving weather.

The North must have done something to him, he thinks. Cold weather and colder demons. He smells more like pine and fresh flowers now instead of sun and sweat. A clear contrast to the man he knew ascended with him as a Peak Lord.

No, Yue Qingyuan does not stare. He does however take his shidi's pale cold hands and tell him to rest and get better soon. That his health was of the upmost importance.

Shang Qinghua stiffens his face. He nods his head, tells him not to worry and that he's fine. He leaves after assuring the Sect Leader he’d visit Mu Shidi before he returns to the North.

~O~

 

Shen Qingqui was home for the time. Binghe was cooking his amazing protagonist level food. One Shang Qinghua once would have drooled over just at the smell, now he just- doesn't.

The moment Shen Qingqui laid his eyes on him, he opens his fan to hide his lower face.

"It's you. Shang-shidi." 

Shang Qinghua smiles at him, brightly. He would always smile for his Number 1 anti-fan despite the poor treatment. How  can he not?! He was a beloved loyal fan, and a close friend. "Cucumber-bro! Glad to see you back! How was the world? Finally sick of traveling with Bing-mei, are you?" He jests.

Shen Qingqui does his best to maintain the aloof immortal air. He doesn't say anything- much.

"It was fine. The world is wonderful. Obviously not a compliment to your faulty world-building."

"Ouch. I am hurt! At least give me a little credit, huh! I've traveled a bit myself too you know. The demon realm is as dangerous as it is beautiful you know." 

Shen Qingqui bites his lip, tries his best to avoid the chilling sarcasm that wants to poke at Airplane's current state of... life. Instead, he folds his fan. "I know." He stiffens his face to a displeased frown. Hides what he truly feels behind his mask of indifference.

Airplane laughs at him. He was thankful. So, so thankful to have a friend like Cucumber.

 

~O~

 

Binghe knew. Of course. Mobei-jun told him. He just didn't know it would be so... obvious.

Lou Binghe looks at his shixiong up and down once before asking with a straight face. "Will Shang-shixiong be staying for dinner?" The same air of disdain to anyone who does try to share his and his Shizun's meal.

Shang Qinghua laughs. Still thankful, still in a good mood. "Maybe next time Junshang... I'm not hungry at all these days." 

He bows, greets them well and goes on his way.

 

~O~

 

Mu Qingfang was smart. He was horrified. So affected by Shang Qinghua he dropped his mortar to the floor in shock. He knew instantly, just by the first glance as he entered his door.

 

Shang Qinghua was dead.

How did no one see that?! 

 

He cries.

He complains.

He asks, - Inquires how and why and why does he accept it.

 

It was unnatural. 

He was immortal in the wrong way.

 

Shang Qinghua was dead.

 

Dead by the paleness of his face. The stiffness of his body. The black veins on his skin and the overall coldness that screams his lack of life. 

 

And Mu Qingfang, so unlike the strong stomached healer that he was, cries and loses his lunch out the window.

 

Shang Qinghua did not know how to react to that. He was so affected, he wishes he wasn't. He wishes he'd just act indolent like Yue Qingyuan, or like normal as Shen Qingqui, even indifference like Lou Binghe was fine. But deep down his heart, he was thankful someone actually mourns for him. Even if he was like this...

 

He stays with Mu Qingfang until Mobei Jun picks him up to bring him back to the North.

Mu Qingfang glares daggers at Mobei Jun. The King of the North accepts his looks humbly, graciously even. Mu Qingfang almost, almost doesn't let him go.

Shang Qinghua tells him to let him go. He tells him he was fine, and he wants to return to his King. That he misses the North, and he wants to stay there. 

 

Mu Qingfang lets them leave. 

But Mu Qingfang doesn't forgive the Ice Demon...

 

~O~

 

Mo Beijun will not repeat his mistake. 

It was just one day of letting Qinghua explore, and the next thing he knows, he was dead. All it took was a simple snap of his neck from a hidden assassin. One that had been in their service for 10 years. Half the time Shang Qinghua had been employed to him, and yet already amongst them, so near them. Beside them, serving their foods and drinks, fixing their bath, preparing their clothes and sending the to bed from morning, noon and night.

He had ordered that one to serve Shang Qinghua specifically. He had been the one that handed his human's head over to that beast.

He tears the assassin apart, limb for limb. He spares nothing. His family- he killed without reason. He investigated and found half his court in cahoots with the culprit. He ties them together and throws them down the lake of sea monsters. Their families who share their direct blood, be them children or infants. He burns them alive. He was so angry and furious. He wanted everyone to know his hollowness. His loss. His suffering.

Lou Binghe snaps him out of it. Beats him down and tosses him down the Abbys until he cools down and gets back his sanity. When he came back, Shang Qinghua was already cleaned and dressed in his An Ding Peak Lord robes- placed in a human casket. A flimsy piece of wood so unsuitable for his human. HIS servant. HIS advisor. His love…

 

He orders a better casket, one made of Glass. 

He orders flowers and leaves from the human realm. 

He asks Lou Binghe about human funerals. What must be done to send his human’s soul to rest, only for his court to insist he be buried the way trusted demon advisors are sent away. 

 

Lips sealed with gold thread, to never tell the secrets of his King. 

Hands decapitated, to never write the secrets of his King. 

Feet severed, to never run away from the shadow of his King’s reign. 

Encased in Ice- just like the Mobei bloodline when all that is left are their bodies, to call them as their family. 

Sunk to the bottom of the sea- To say that their King's secrets die and sink with them. 

As Confidants, as advisors, as family and friends.

It would be their honor to be sent away this way- they reasoned.

 

Mobei jun does not allow it. 

 

He follows the human tradition, presents him in a wake. Leaves flowers, fruits and treasures, burns paper money and paper servants.

It was the first time a human funeral was held in the Demon realm. Shang Qinghua’s funeral was lavish. The most lavish one Shen Qingqui has ever seen, but all his critique is forgotten when he does see Shang Qinghua in the coffin. -He was unbelieving at first. Airplane? Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky was Dead? -Impossible… right?

But looking at him then. Shen Qingqui excuses himself as he mourns for his fellow Peak Lord and friend. 

The news attracts demons of the court and beyond. They were familiar with the rat. The human. The weird uncle. The weak one. Representative Shang. Master Shang. Paper Crane Shooting Towards the Sky. And all the other titles they called Shang Qinghua behind his back; but with how much Shang Qinghua knows them, it was like calling him all those in front of his face. 

And the funeral that intrigues them makes them want to visit him. They did not know what to do to these funerals of the humans. So they brought gifts like food and alcoholic drinks. The demons don’t usually have a funeral where people would visit. Funerals were only for royals and of the higher court. Even then, only family and councilmen can attend, but apparently, humans can go to the funeral of their acquaintances and stay for long periods of time talking to family. 

Shang Qinghua did not have family. But there were people willing to talk about his life. Be it good or bad. Mostly complaints tho- from the other councilmen he butted heads with. Nonetheless, they seemed to piece together somethings Shang Qinghua was pushing them to do. Secretly, he was unifying the departments of the court. Small projects now, but big promise later. 

 

The generals don’t particularly like him, but the generals trust their spies. Their spies praise Shang Qinghua’s work habits. How he can be sent into the field alone and produce the most intelligence in the shortest amount of time- almost like a magnet of trouble. When he became the Spy Master, he taught them tricks with a flare, acting to save their skins and the human ways of escape and blending in. The spies envy him, but they respect him enough to pool together enough Dragon Bone Pumpkin Seeds to send him off with. Sneaking a small sack of it into his robes- just to make sure.

 

Ok, so Shen Qingqui also snuck a sack of Pumpkins Seeds into Shang Qinghua’s robes. Also Snowflake, the closest guard to Shang Qinghua who did not betray him, no matter how hard Mobei-jun dug. And Maybe Mobei-jun himself had snuck a sack of gold into his robes, and more than a few sacks of Pumpkin, Melon, Sunflower and other seeds that Shang Qinghua had the habit of snacking on. 

 

~O~

 

The funeral lasted for 5 days. Mobei-jun spent 2 days in the Abbys. He was stupid. He should have spent it better, instead of acting on his need to destroy.

 

Before a wondering human Demonic Cultivator came and offered something he didn’t understand at first.

 

“This guy,-” The cultivator says as he pays respect to the dead. He was a passing cultivator, one who reaps the benefits of Shang Qinghua’s efforts to unify the realms. A traveling merchant cultivator. One that seems to have all the freedom he desires. One curious to see a human funeral in the demon realm. Mobei-jun was wary of him, despite his politeness and well manners. So when he asked to see the deceased, he accompanies him to look at Shang Qinghua’s body. He looks at the body and tilts his head. He steps back a bit, as if wary of an invisible force around Shang Qinghua.

 

“This guy, he has a lot of resentment in life- didn’t he?” The comment angered Mobei-jun. Resentment in life?! His Qinghua had served only him in his life, is the human implying Qinghua hated serving him?

 

The look on Mobei-jun’s face must have given away his thoughts. The cultivator corrected himself. “Ah! No, I don’t mean in life-life. I meant, he had some resentment of unfinished business when he died. Like a mission unfinished, or work not yet done. And he’s taken it to heart. Truly a dedicated man. Studious and Steadfast.” The respectable cultivator explains. “He’s exhuming a lot of resentment tho. Residual negative energy this thick could turn him into a fierce corpse if he hadn’t taken a Spirit cleansing ritual and not buried properly. An advice- you might want to ask Spiritual Cultivators on ways to burry him properly. The Strongest Sect for this kind of job would be the Lans from Gusu, but Tian Yi Overlook is good enough to settle this too. But judging from the robes he wears, he’s a Peak Lord from High Mountain Sect… Ah, maybe the Sword Peak, the Spirit Beast Peak, or the Ascetic Peak can settle this for him.”

 

“We have ties with the Scholarly Peak.”

 

The cultivator shakes his head. “This isn’t something the Scholarly ones could settle. If they can use Calming Spirit Music, they might help, but as far as I know, those not from Gusu can use it only in controlling the elements…. The Qing generation of The Scholarly Peak, however, is famous for his Xui Ya sword, and the tale Resentment of Chunshan. He may excel in battle and sword arts, but the spirit calming part might be lacking.”

 

Mobei-jun looks at the man, and asks. “What about you?” He seems to know a lot. Shang Qinghua knew a lot too, and he delves into research and his own world to do it.

 

“Me?! No! I can’t possibly cleanse him. If anything, I might make it worse and really turn him into a fierce corpse. Do you really want his body walking around like the living? Granted, I was able to bring their consciousness back, but that’s still an argument on ethics that the sects are hunting me for-“

 

“Did you say you can bring him back to life?” Mobei-jun was intrigued. If there was a chance, Shang Qinghua could be brought back to life…

 

“Ah, not to disrespect you Lord, but did you hear what I’ve said? The Sects deem my cultivation unethical. If they found out one of their own turned into a Fierce Corpse, they’d likely burn him to ashes!”

 

“Then he will stay with me. I will protect him.”

 

“What if he doesn’t want to stay with you? What if he wants peace and rest? What if you are keeping him from his happiness?”

 

“He will not be happy without me. I will give him rest, as long as he is mine, I will not ask him of anything.” Mobei-jun says with so much surity. He picks up the cultivator by the collar of his outer robes. To keep him from running away. “What do you want? I will give you anything.” He states his price. Threatening.

 

The cultivator looks at the desperate Ice Demon, and the resentful human body in the casket. “Luckily, Peak Lords are not subjected to Spirit cleaning from a young age. Unless, of course, there was a secret rule that all disciples must be cleansed.” Still, this much resentful energy was enough accumulation from 2-3 lives. How this Peak Lord got all this pent-up resentment was a question to him. Just how much had he suffered in this life? Just how docile and weak did he seem to harbor so much silent hatred and hidden curses?

 

“He was my spy, for 25 years… I’d hit him for 20 years without knowing that I was hurting him.” 

 Only a saint would remain by your side! 20 years of being hit?! Who could bear with that? If I were him, I’d betray you. Run away as far as possible. He didn’t realize he was saying his thoughts out loud.

“He is still loyal to me till the end.” -Again, brain no filter.

 

“I understand…” All he could say. “My base is at the Burial Mound at Yiling. If you are serious, I want him send there in 3 days. I’ll need paper. Lots of paper for talismans. 15 jugs of water, Cinnabar ink, 10 jugs of blood from willing sacrifices- the more willing the better, the sooner the spell would work. IF we get his soul back.”

 

“And what is your price?”

“My conditions.” He starts. “Once he returns to you, you cannot make love to him. You cannot make him bleed from the inside.” Mobei-jun nods.

“He is aware he is dead. He cannot taste food, he cannot eat it- as it will just bloat him.” Mobei-jun nods again, but more uncertain.

“He cannot sleep. He can feign sleep, but ultimately it is better for him to wake at night and sleep in the day.”

“He can no longer cry. Emotions will be forced but if his feelings are true, then he will remember his emotions towards people he loved.”

“His cultivation, from Spiritual Qi, will turn into Demonic Qi. All his hard work in life will be forsaken.” He looks at the Ice demon, imploring him to give up. Mobei-jun agrees. He does not change his mind, even when the last condition was stated.

“And…” The demonic cultivator hesitates. “Although I said he can no longer eat- he can still crave for flesh and blood. Human or Demon flesh… Do you still want him back?”

“I will raze the world for him.” Mobei jun says.

 

“My Price… I want your protection when I enter the demon realm, and the right to see him when he is back from the dead. I will be his physician of the like. Only me. He will become my research. Are you still willing?” The third time he asks. And the answer doesn’t change.

 

“What is your name?” Mobei-jun finally asks. “Who do I find at Yiling?”

He introduces himself. “My name is Wei Wuxian. They call me the Yiling Patriarch.” 

 

~O~

 

It had been months since then. Mobei Jun was beginning to think he was fooled.

 

After gathering some information, he learned that the Yiling Patriarch was the best at Necromancy amongst all the cultivators. He takes in desperate ones and teaches them the proper way of Demonic Cultivation. He had turned insane once. He was cured, but remains in supposed isolation… He travels a lot in secret.

 

Leaving his human’s body with him seemed logical at that time. Now, however, after 8 months of waiting, his patience was wearing thin.

 

The sound of the door creaking open gets his attention. No one steps in.

Mobei-jun was annoyed at first. He has mountains of paperwork to do, can’t they see he was busy? Until he hears it. A small croaky voice. It sounded worn and dry and exhausted. “My King-“

His head snaps up so fast, a normal human would have broken it, but Mobei jun was a strong demon. Instead, he sets his eyes on the small figure behind the door, huddled to one side as if scared to be seen.

 

“Shang Qinghua.” He calls.

“Y-yes my King.” He answers, steps into the room. His gait was stiff, posture abominably rigid. Skin pale and veins black showing from the corners of his clothes that were too short to cover him up. When he was close enough, Mobei-jun pulled him into his arms. He was cold. So very cold. But the sweetness to his call did not change. “My King?!” He tries to pull out of the hug. “I’m cold and stinky!” He complains. 

“Don’t care.” Because he asked for this. Yes, everything is fine, as long as he’s here.

“I’m sorry my King, for leaving you.”

“I couldn’t protect you.”

 

“It’s not your fault. It’s me my King. I was too weak…. On the bright side, no one can kill me now.” He reasons. “I’ve got my whole afterlife to live with you my King!” He smiles, or at least tries to. Mobei-jun couldn’t help but use his thumbs to lift the corners of his lips into the familiar smile. 

“The cultivator said you can never be injured internally.”

“Haha, it’s stupid. I feel like a million taels!”

“Money is cold, hard and lifeless.”

“Exactly my King!” The practically zombie responds.The silence between them is awkward, strange and uncomfortable- familiar. 

 

“Shang Qinghua, from now on, you shall never leave my side.”

“Ahhh, be practical my King! I have work to do, ahhh… And I haven’t reported to my Peak in a long time! I- I need to visit eventually.”

“You will visit when you are better.” The Ice demon responds. “Except for Shen Qingqui, no one else know you are…”

“It’s for the best my King. Would you imagine what Liu Qingge would do if he finds out?! He’d send Cheng Luan flying straight to my brain!” He says with a forced laugh.

“I will protect you. I will not lose you again.” The response he got instead.

“I… I know.” … 

 

“My King…” Words left unsaid. Maybe it’s his resentment that would keep him alive the next time he does die. 

 

“Shang Qinghua. I love you.” The King says instead. Because once was enough for him to learn his lesson. Do not waste it.