Work Text:
Shen Qingqiu carelessly traced the winter plum blossoms on his fan as indistinct voices discussed his fate, crunching vaguely like gravel beneath the wheel of a cart. Sometimes, the rhythmic lullaby of broken stone would sound like the rising tides embracing a sandy shoreline. Neither of them had ever seen or heard the sea before, and they didn’t know how laughably wrong he was. But it was easier to be content before knowing. He said it sounded like the sea, so it sounded like the sea. Right now, he was standing on that beach, listening to the frothy waves whisper to each other.
He flipped over his fan and faintly smiled, thinking of the sweetness of a tangren too misshapen to sell. But that made the bulbous figure more generous, with enough extra sugar for two mouths to enjoy on a half-sunken step in the ruins of a derelict shack. Yet that abandoned place could be a two person world isolated from reality. Because of that uneven step, they would slide towards each other if they weren't careful. Their hips would bump together painfully. Scrawny things they were, all bone and not flesh. They would bump and laugh, bump and laugh. At the highest step, they claimed an enviable view of that vast blanket of blue twilight in the sky. Like the sea, he thought then, though he wasn't sure if he'd said it out loud at that time. He liked the sea. He liked something he’d never even seen before.
The icy winds were stronger at the high point of the city, but that meant they could warm each other with heartbeats pressed together, so that not the slightest illusion of distance could exist between them. It was a starless night, but that also meant the flowers scattering across the sky were all the more brilliant. Each petal would bloom like a small smile raining down on them. In the distance, a joyous cheer would go up as though the entire world were celebrating their existence. He could believe the fireworks were for them too.
If he had to pick a time in his life, he was probably the happiest then.
Only a lick of sweetness could banish the cold, the wind, and the rain. He was always someone who could live on a drop of honey. Just the memory was enough.
Shen Qingqiu blinked and looked up. The chatter had stopped. The sea was gone and he stared into many faces: some expectant, some impatient, some frustrated, and some resentful. They all wanted something from him. But what should he do? What did he have left to give?
“Qingqiu-shidi, we’ll have to wrong you for now. Huanhua is asking us to give you over to await the trial. Just until the trial. We’ll do everything we can to protect you. Can you trust us?” Yue Qingyuan said in that cautious, formal tone he hated.
There was an ocean separating them now. He never learned how to swim.
He didn’t care to look at those faces. How dare the criminal who brought shame and dishonor to Cang Qiong treat Zhangmen-shixiong with such disrespect? Was it appropriate to use that word to speak of him? He knew without asking.
Shen Qingqiu toyed with his fan.
“Trust you?”
Qi Qingqi tensed somewhere to his left. In her eyes, this was the man who betrayed the female student in his care and offended her most-favored disciple.
Shen Qingqiu thoughtlessly threw out, “Do as you like, but you will not have my trust.”
They had already made their decision. Why should he play along to ease their consciences? The script may be complete, but he would not accept his part.
He glanced up and met Mu Qingfang’s eyes. They had always had a professional relationship and Mu Qingfang could be considered one of the people he was most cordial with in the past. There was a trace of undisguisable disgust in his gaze now. Shen Qingqiu blinked impassively and turned towards Yue Qingyuan.
“Qingqiu-shidi…we need your approval on this matter.”
Shen Qingqiu exhaled through his nose with mild impatience. “Is my trust something important? How come I didn’t know before?”
Qi Qingqi scoffed, while Yue Qingyuan’s eyes widened.
“That year…” Yue Qingyuan’s lashes quivered as though he’d spoken before his mind could catch up.
Shen Qingqiu’s brow twitched wryly. Finding a bit of humor in the situation, he asked, “That year? Which year? I spent ten years in that place. Tell me, which year are you talking about?”
“I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t unexpected to hear him say those two words again. He must have surprised him by bringing up their private matters in the open. But he didn’t want to hear those words.
All the expensive snowskin pastries and prosperity cakes from the leader of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect were too sweet for him. He was much too used to the taste of secondhand happiness to accept anything else.
Shen Qingqiu looked at him impassively, then finally scoffed lightly when he saw that the man had nothing he wanted to explain.
“I’ve waited decades to hear an explanation. But it seems like there isn’t enough time anymore. Yue Qingyuan, you had ten years of my blind trust. But what did you take it for?”
In the end, it wasn't worth the copper coin to buy a single wish. It was so easy for him to throw that trust away. To throw him away.
Shen Qingqiu set his fan down and stared at it blankly. He paused for a long time, but even in ruin and even in silence, he commanded an aura that made it impossible to interrupt him.
He at last made a decision. “How long do you think it takes for broken legs to heal?”
Yue Qingyuan flinched. A brief ripple went up among the other faces at this strange reaction and a shared history that was wholly unknown.
Shen Qingqiu did not wait for a response. “It’s not a short period of time, but it’s not long either. It takes a little bit longer when you’re young, hungry, and cold, but not ten years long. I never doubted you. I never once suspected you abandoned me. So I stayed ten long years in that hellish place because how else would my Qi-ge know where to find me? But even hope cannot subsist on an empty stomach.”
Hunger was a cruel companion. First it would churn in complaint, then bloat in false promise, before leaving only lonely starvation and inevitable waste.
Shen Qingqiu looked up at Yue Qingyuan and narrated blandly. “I thought you’d died. I wanted to find your body and give you a proper burial. That’s why I took that man as my Shifu.”
In a quiet voice, he said, “I’d rather you died.”
It was the gentlest any of the peak lords had ever heard Shen Qingqiu speak, yet the words were so cruel.
He finally said everything. But it was funny. How come he did not feel the slightest bit better? Shen Qingqiu laughed scornfully. It was impossible to know whether he resented Yue Qingyuan, himself, or the world.
He stared at Yue Qingyuan again. “Do you have anything else to say to me?
Shen Jiu waited, but Yue Qi was silent.
He did not dare wait long again. That lesson was a painful one to learn. Shen Qingqiu sighed deeply, breath trembling faintly. He pressed his eyes together. When he opened them, his eyes brimmed with bitten back tears. To others, it was only a villain regretting that his crimes were revealed. But to him, he was burying a hope, a dream, and an ocean wrapped up in one person.
Shen Qingqiu picked up his fan, put it down again after a moment, and left.
Three days later, Shen Qingqiu walked into the Water Prison by himself. No matter what Shen Qingqiu said, he never blamed Yue Qingyuan for throwing away his trust. He only regretted that Yue Qingyuan had never trusted him. After that first visit to the Water Prison, Shen Qingqiu never saw Yue Qingyuan again. There was only a broken sword and a truth revealed too late.