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The sunrise arrives with the chirps of newly awakened birds, sunlight softly covering the lush greenery around the small makeshift camp that is seven parts stolen goods and three parts bought with haggled down prices.
Shen Jiu doesn't move an inch. He's been kneeling down for more than three hours, his knees aching from the weight of his body resting on them. There's a mosquito buzzing around his ear and his lower back hurts enough that he can't bring himself to ignore it. Dust has stained the old, coarse robe he has on to the point of painting the light grey fabric a brown-tinted mess.
It's an understatement to say that he'd rather be anywhere but here.
That's not up to him, though. The mockery of a Master he has found has ordered him to stay, to sit, with a sinister glint in his eyes as if he was looking at a dog in training, and even if Shen Jiu despises doing as he is told, there aren't many options to choose from. He can't afford to buy cultivation manuals even if he sells himself. No sects would take him with his faulty cultivation and nonexistent background, and cultivating by himself had brought nothing but qi deviations that he has never truly recovered from. This Master of his, as worthless as he is, is the best option for Shen Jiu's future plans to thrive.
Still, this is not the worst situation he could be in, he thinks idly as his eyes follow the mosquito's path around him. He might be forbidden from going to the Immortal Alliance Conference, but at least he isn't in the small tent his Master had him set up, warming up Master's bed like a wanton little slut that the damned man once suggested he was. Shen Jiu would take the uncomfortable, sleepless nights on hard earth and missed opportunities over letting that man get what he wants.
It's not like missing a big event in the cultivation world is the end of everything. He had been hoping to find a sign of where Yue Qi's remains could be, but he could continue his search at any time.
The mosquito settles on the bare hand he has resting on his thigh, patches of his skin already flushed and slightly swollen from the previous bites he got from all kinds of insects in the clearing. The world is waking up around him, the greenery gaining its vibrant colors back with the help of sunlight, yet there are no sounds to indicate his Master's awakening coming from the tent.
How curious. Someone as sleazy as his Master wouldn't choose to waste away daylight by sleeping in when he could be robbing some foolish travelers. After spending a month with him, Shen Jiu knows that much already.
Hesitantly, his hands flex and curl into fists. The mosquito immediately takes off, continuing to fly its path around Shen Jiu.
Maybe he should check up on the man. As much as he hates his Master, he knows that there aren't many opportunities for him to find another teacher. Not many would accept a disciple as old as he, with such a faulty cultivation base and enough whipping scars on his body to mark him as a former slave.
With a sigh, he pushes himself off of the ground--his limbs ache from the strain, he can hear his joints cracking. The mosquito finally seems to give up on getting its fill, it flies away deeper into the forest. Good riddance, Shen Jiu thinks vengefully. His hands are still aching from giving the bastard a meal hefty enough for a lifetime. Well, a lifetime for a mosquito, at least.
The moment his feet settle on the ground, he stretches with a groan. The lack of sleep doesn't affect his mentality much, it's already rare that he ever gets a good night of sleep, and he finds it easy to keep going like this when he knows how to from experience.
The tent stays quiet. Shen Jiu takes his time shaking off the dust clinging to the hem of his coarse robe, then stretches some more. The idea of looking inside the tent feels more unappealing with every passing second.
Hesitation isn't his forte. He turns his back to his Master's resting place and instead starts walking towards the river he and his master had passed by while looking for a good spot to set up camp just last night.
If that damned man managed to stay alive until this day, he can wait some more for Shen Jiu to get rid of all this dirt and grime clinging to his face. It's not like he has a reason to punish Shen Jiu when his order for Shen Jiu was to stay kneeling outside of the tent until morning.
It is morning now. He's done being a good disciple for the day, despite it just starting.
Though, that only counts for something if he continues ignoring the fact that his Master rarely needs a real reason to give out punishments. But right now, he would kill a man for a proper bath--and it's not like he hasn't done worse things for less.
The path he takes to the river looks untouched by men, the greenery lush and shows no signs of damage. It's no wonder, they're too deep in the forest, far away from the villages and cities that seem to despise his Master's presence. The undisturbed forest around him is peaceful, welcoming.
He can't help it. His mind conjures up the idea of having a home in a place like this, a small cottage maybe. Hell, a bamboo house. It would have a library full of rare books, and a spiritual lake close by. A safe space, far away from other people, somewhere he can cultivate without being bothered.
Maybe he would even build a small shrine for Qi-ge. Close to the house, stacked with good quality incense sticks and joss paper he could burn often. A tablet that would be… would be inscribed by his hands, for Qi-ge.
How… presumptuous of him.
He ignores the way his heart squeezes at the idea.
He hears the river before seeing it. Loud and violent, the water crashes over anywhere it can reach. Shen Jiu welcomes the way the noise drowns out his thoughts. Past is past, Qi-ge is dead, what is it to him? He has more important matters to focus on; his cultivation base is already unstable as it is, he can't afford distractions.
Maybe Qi-ge is dead, yes, but…
He's dead. That's all there is to it.
The river is broad and lively. How deep it is, Shen Jiu doesn't know, but he can guess that in the middle, the depth would probably be at least two times his height. Trees tower up all around it, branches and leaves offering a shelter from the morning sun, and there are several birds settled over steady-looking boulders high enough from the wild rush of the water, getting their own fills of clean water from the small puddles on the huge rocks.
There is no one around except animals and insects. Truly fortunate, Shen Jiu thinks as he sheds his clothes.
He doesn't have much on him, nothing valuable. A double layered robe--his Master had said it wasn't worth it to spend money on both inner and outer robes, but Shen Jiu isn't a brute, so he was willing to spend his savings on both--and worn down pants, with a cheap wooden hairpin and sturdy shoes. His sword is probably the most important thing in his possession even though it doesn't have a sword spirit. Always resting on his hip, but it's nothing but a stolen good just like everything else he owns.
He leaves them all in a folded pile, only the sword separately hidden beneath a bush, slightly closer to the edge of rushing water. The moment he lets down his hair, he feels the beginnings of a headache.
He lets the faint ache behind his temples pulse steadily, pushing back the sensation in his mind until it faintly fades into the background like all other stinging wounds he has. They're not worth paying attention to. The slash at his lower back had been a few days ago, somehow deep enough to require extra attention when he first received it from a righteous cultivator looking to spread his fame by killing Shen Jiu's Master. But it has already healed some, and it'll hold while Shen Jiu cleans up. As long as he's mostly sure he won't bleed out, he's willing to risk it for a bath.
His eyes stop on a rock that looks steady enough, settled at the side of the rushing river. It seems to cut off the wild stream just enough, forming a small, decent area for bathing. A good spot for cleaning up without getting dragged down the river, Shen Jiu idly thinks.
He jumps on it with a small boost from his spiritual energy and balances on the rock, close enough to the river's surface that wayward droplets of water splatter over his bare skin. Combined with the spring breeze, it makes him shiver a little, but he ignores the sensations. Instead, he plops down at the edge of the rock and dips his feet in the river, testing the temperature.
It's freezing cold.
He pushes himself into the water. Spiritual energy curls under his skin, just enough to keep him warm, and he sinks down until his hair is submerged.
It takes some time to clean up. His hair is a mess, one of his fiercest enemies, but he manages. By the time he's done, it's way past sunrise. He sits down on a rock, letting sunlight warm his skin and dry the water off of him, and then he throws on his clothes and goes back to the campsite.
It's a normal day. The Immortal Alliance Conference passes peacefully. Shen Jiu serves Wu Yanzi, and fate-
Fate doesn't welcome deviations. No, it likes creating them.
--
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--
Shen Jiu doesn't know exactly when he realizes that his future isn't bright. Maybe it's somewhere between finding himself as an orphan on the street and being sold to the Qiu Family, but he does realize it.
Fate isn't kind, for it will tear everything Shen Jiu wants apart before it lets him have anything, but that's fine, because he's used to fighting for scraps. He won't have a happy ending, this much he knows, but it doesn't mean he's willing to go down without a fight.
This is why he ends up with blood dripping down from his hands as he slashes open Wu Yanzi's throat when the man is out cold from drinking too much, his body slouched over Shen Jiu's on the ground, one of his hands still groping his disciple's waist.
"Disgusting." Is all Shen Jiu says as he pushes the body off of himself. He doesn't know if he feels relieved that the man is gone, but his now dead Master's eyes stay closed nonetheless.
Shen Jiu is petty, he always has been, so he decides to take all the damned man had before burning him to ashes and then crushing his bones to dust. He loots everything valuable his Master's corpse has, from his infamous sword that is colored such a black that it's as if it absorbs light, to the weird artifacts buried deep within his hidden qiankun pouches. As he grabs them one by one, his hands are shaky at best, but so what? He'll do what he has to.
He feels uncomfortable in his skin, as if it's stretched too tight over his limbs. He knows that his robes are unkempt over his chest, that there are hand prints on his waist hidden under the cloth. He pays them no mind.
Nothing happened. He's safe, no one will try to touch him again, and the sleazy rat that is his Master is dead.
None of these things make him feel any better.
He stores his findings in his own qiankun pouches, trying to keep the weight on him minimal. When he's done, he pushes himself off of the ground, away from Wu Yanzi's still warm corpse, and towers over his former Master.
"I told you from the start," He says with rage dripping from his voice, "That I wouldn't hesitate to kill you." He spits on the man's corpse, then pulls a fire talisman. His fingers are still trembling, but he doesn't falter.
The smell of burnt flesh taints the air. Shen Jiu is gone by the sunrise.
--
The day he meets Qing Jing’s Peak Lord is a day of misfortune.
He's mourning, that day. He had arrived at a new town, one that seems good enough for him to spend the winter in. He finally gets around to building a shrine for Qi-ge, buying a couple of incense sticks and joss money with the last few coins left in the purse he stole from Wu Yanzi. He knows he'll need to find a way to feed himself for the night, but for now…
Now, he kneels in front of the makeshift shrine he has prepared in the forest just outside of the village, hidden at a corner of a big, peaceful pond surrounded with greenery. Everything else can wait until he sends his best wishes to a slave's soul, give him at least some offerings so that he can be better off than he had been while he was alive.
It doesn't go as he wants. His eyes are shut, his knees on the cold, soft dirt, and someone suddenly hums behind him.
Shen Jiu's hands twitch, but he doesn't make any sudden moves. He hadn’t felt anyone coming closer, which means that either this person's cultivation is higher than his own, or they have an artifact hiding their presence. The former may mean trouble, while the latter an opportunity.
He deliberately looks over his shoulder. The person is a woman in her twenties, beautiful with her lustrous, dark hair and clear, jade white skin. She has elegant, layered robes, mostly green and white in color, and her hair is held up with a white ribbon in a high ponytail.
She has a sword, one that obviously contains a sword spirit.
"Brat," She smiles, all teeth and sharp, cold elegance, when their eyes meet, "Don't you know that this lake is haunted?"
Shen Jiu parts his lips, not sure exactly what to say, but before his sharp tongue can come up with something, he notices something moving under the surface of the lake. The thing, as if summoned, starts moving towards them at high speed.
Shen Jiu sets one of his hands on the dark colored sword sitting on his hip, turning fully towards the lake, throwing out a "Watch out!" for the woman who has her back turned to the monster just several feet away from her, still hidden under the surface.
He doesn't even get to draw his sword. There's a white flash flying past him, the woman's sword suddenly gone; leaving an empty sheath behind, and something dives into the lake. The monster stops advancing, though it is hard to see what it's doing, but if Shen Jiu had to guess… he'd say it was fighting?
"You have sharp eyes." The woman's smile hasn't moved an inch still. Her feet are set on the ground, steady and unmoving, but her eyes glimmer with interest as if she's watching the subject of an experiment fail on the spot.
The water behind her is slowly being tainted by a black cloud spreading within. The monster's blood, Shen Jiu guesses, and the white flash suddenly breaks through the lake's surface to slowly fly towards the woman, slotting itself in the empty sheath at her side.
"Come," The woman says as if she didn't just kill a monster that was strong enough to snap Shen Jiu's body in half and then eat away his cultivation to feed itself. "Keep this master company for her walk."
Then she promptly turns around and walks away.
Shen Jiu almost trips over his own feet trying to catch up to her.
--
Qing Jing Peak is very spacious, but Shen Jiu once had the whole world in front of him to travel once he tore his way through the chains keeping him trapped. It's also elegant, but so were the Qiu Family, rotten to the core for all the kindness and elegance shown on the surface. It's the home of many respected cultivators too, but Wu Yanzi was a cultivator as well.
It'd be an understatement to say that Shen Jiu doesn’t have high hopes for this place being any better than his previous arrangements. He has been taught to know better.
But still, maybe it won't be so bad. Trash is trash, but the trash in a noble household is bound to face richer opportunities than the one in poverty.
"This will be your new home." His new Shizun--who told him to never call her Master , as if Shen Jiu doesn't see that she's just a warped version of Wu Yanzi--says over her fan, a peaceful expression lodged on her face as she looks over the disciples littering the place with books and musical instruments in their hands. "What do you think?"
Shen Jiu bows dutifully, keeping his eyes on the ground, "This disciple is thankful to Shizun for taking him in."
His Shizun sighs, the gentle movements of her fan coming to a stop. She takes in a deep breath, as if to say something, but no words leave her lips.
They stay quiet and watch the Qing Jing Peak together.
Shen Jiu waits for the moment everything will surely fall apart.
--
Catching up is hard, and not disappointing his shixiongs is even harder, but nothing has ever been easy for Shen Jiu. He knows how to paint a mask for himself that will look pleasing enough to others.
He wraps himself up with lies as soft as the silk his new, light green disciple robes are made of, wields the sharp elegance he stole off of his Shizun with no shame. Who is to say that he isn't a rich master belonging to Qing Jing Peak? This is his home now, just as Shizun once said it would be.
It's been months since he first slipped past the protective barrier around the Tian Gong mountain range, looking at the twelve peaks towering over him from afar. He hasn't stepped out of Qing Jing much, busy learning how to wear the skin of a scholar even though he hadn't even known how to write anything other than his and Qi-ge's names beforehand. He knows little of the rest of the peaks except for what is written on books and the limited times he had visited them.
The first real experience he has outside of those little trips ends up being for the Lantern Festival. He doesn't plan to join the celebrations like how he hadn't joined the previous festivals, but his Shizun asks him to come and watch the performances of the other disciples.
Only the head disciple and senior disciples can dream of such an opportunity. For some reason, Shizun favors him, and he knows enough of the world to try to keep it like that. Maybe he can become a hallmaster when he's experienced enough, or he can be an Elder if Shizun keeps her attention on him long enough. He needs to show that he's worth keeping around.
Countless disciples visit other peaks, only outer disciples and juniors preferring to stay in their own Peaks. The Peak Lords, with some of their most talented and favored disciples trailing behind them, visit Qiong Ding Peak.
Shen Jiu sees him the moment he steps into the courtyard. He almost forgets to offer a respectful bow to the Sect Leader, one of his shixiongs has to pinch his arm to get him out of his stupor.
Qi-ge.
He's standing right behind the most powerful person in the sect, with a polite, welcoming smile on his face. He bows back to Shizun with the rest of the carefully chosen Qiong Ding disciples standing by his side. He's standing in the front, one step behind to the side of the Sect Leader, the token of the head disciple hanging off of his waist.
The Peak Lords offer their greetings to each other, but it's as if Shen Jiu is underwater. He can't hear anything clearly. The world melts away around him and the only thing solid left is Qi-ge's face, older compared to the last time Shen Jiu saw him.
He's not wrong, though. This is the face he has kept in his mind ever since he was old enough to remember.
He can't be here.
Shen Jiu can't help it, his body takes a step forward by itself. He can feel the carefully crafted, elegant expression on his face cracking, the corner of his lips are trembling, he feels unspoken words pooling on his tongue and-
A hand touches his shoulder gently. "Is everything alright, disciple?" A voice asks, understanding coloring the tone in a kind light.
Shen Jiu blinks. His lungs expand, air rushing in, and he realizes that he's been holding his breath ever since his eyes focused on Qi-ge. His chest hurts, but he can't tell if it's from his sudden breathing or…
"Would you like one of my disciples to accompany you to Qian Cao Peak?" The voice says again, and he turns his eyes to the owner of the hand still holding his shoulder. The Sect Leader's refined face fills his vision.
Ah.
The Qing Jing disciples are heading to their seats, following after Shizun dutifully. He's the only one hanging behind, looking at the Sect Leader and his disciples as if he's frozen on the spot.
"N-no, this disciple thanks Sect Leader for the offer." He quickly pulls himself together, trying to bow again despite the hand holding onto him. "This disciple was lost in thought, begging for forgiveness."
"Don't worry about it," Sect Leader says with a gentle smile. "Go and join your Shizun, now. Enjoy the celebrations."
The grip leaves his shoulder. Shen Jiu quickly clasps his hands in a show of respect one more time, ignoring the way goosebumps rise all over his skin from the touch. It's been a while since he had anyone touch him, after all. It's still the same disgusting feeling he remembers it to be, with the exception of Qi-ge's touch--though, he hasn't been able to feel it for years now.
No wonder. It seems that Qi-ge has been busy acting like a righteous cultivator these past few years.
While he's walking to his seat, he glances over his shoulder and-
Qi-ge is looking at him.
There is none of the warmth he always had for Shen Jiu in his eyes.
Something is wrong.
--
It takes some time, but after enough of the Peak Lords' disciples perform their respective peaks' talents, an opportunity shows itself.
"This disciple asks to be relieved of his duties." Shen Jiu rushes to his Shizun's side, offering a deep bow.
"So soon?" Shizun sounds surprised, but she nods. "Well, don't stay around here for too long, go back to Qing Jing."
"Yes, Shizun."
He leaves his Shizun and fellow disciples in the courtyard to enjoy a Qing Jing disciple's qin performance, and follows Qi-ge's form outside. He loses the back of that young, strong figure for a moment--it's as if the world is collapsing over his shoulders--but then he sees another glimpse of that cut of Qiong Ding disciple robes in the sea of people again.
When he manages to get close enough to be heard, he takes a deep breath and ignores his violent heartbeats to call out, "Shixiong!"
Qi-ge doesn't turn around, still walking.
He tries again, "Shixiong!" Look at me, he doesn't say. Look at me one more time.
It works, this time. The walking figure comes to a stop and turns around, his eyebrows lifted with surprise. When he sees Shen Jiu rushing towards him, his lips twitch and form into that same, polite smile. "Shidi? How can I be of help?"
Shen Jiu comes to a stop in front of him, breathless from running and perhaps more. "S-shidi?" He repeats incredulously, a frown making itself at home on his face. "Who's your shidi! What the hell was that in there? Why are you here?"
Qi-ge's smile slowly turns down, his head tilting to the side. He doesn't look even remotely bothered from the rudeness. "I… I'm afraid I don't quite understand. Is something wrong, shidi?"
The- the audacity! He even dares to ask what's wrong?
"Stop calling me that!" Shen Jiu rages, "What is wrong with you? Do you really think you're one of those righteous cultivators now that you wear fancy robes and carry a sword? Don't be an idiot!"
Qi-ge lifts his hands placatingly, his frown deepening. Shen Jiu wants to dig out those confused looking eyes, bite off the tongue that spews such nonsense--what is this! What the hell is this!
Was this what Qi-ge has been doing, where he had been staying all this time? While Shen Jiu was the plaything of Qiu Jianluo, while Wu Yanzi tried to get him to be a bed-warming-whore, he was staying here, playing the dutiful disciple? What a hypocrite!
"The respected head disciple of Qiong Ding, the next sect leader in line, how wonderful! No wonder you prefer to stay in here, hiding away from your dirty past!" Needles are traveling within his veins instead of blood, the world darkens around the edges of his vision. He wants to keep yelling, then wants to stop and plop down on the floor and bawl like a child he never got to be.
"Shen-shidi," Qi-ge's worried face overlaps the one covered in dirt and warmth in his memory, and the pain in his chest deepens. He tastes blood on his tongue. "You need to calm down!"
He doesn't even know what words leave his mouth- his hands curl into fists, face painted into an ugly red from anger. "You're- you- I'm gonna kill you!"
Qi-ge says nothing to him in reply. Instead, he looks around--the spectacle has attracted the attention of all the disciples in the area, after all. Shen Jiu still manages to drag Qi-ge down, even after all this time. What a shame that they met again. "Did anyone see Mu-shidi? You- are you a Qian Cao disciple? Shen-shidi is having a qi deviation-"
"Always talking to other people, always turning your back to me when I'm looking to you-" Shen Jiu hisses out and spits at Qi-ge's feet, darkness taking over his vision, "What right to you have to be called Qi-ge!"
The last thing he sees before the world slips away from his grasp is Qi-ge's frown, turning back to him. He thinks he hears something in a panicked tone he has never heard from Qi-ge before -'Why is the scum villain having a qi deviation on me! System! Help!'- but then his senses fade away and there's nothing left.
This isn't Qi-ge, his mind whispers.
He can't be.