Chapter Text
The air of Qing Jing peak was crisp and clear, a near stillness despite the breeze that blew through the bamboo forests. Even though it was afternoon, the peak still had the cool and calming air that usually rose in early morning. Disciples clothed in green and white robes hurried along the stone paths, carrying supplies or heading to do their chores.
Shen Qingqiu, having spent a good part of the morning avoiding one particular fellow Peak Lord and Sect Leader, Yue Qingyuan, settled himself outside his bamboo house, enjoying the weather. On the table in front of him sat a stack of calligraphy papers, sloppy handwriting rending some characters illegible, despite each paper supposedly containing the same phrase.
Shen Qingqiu sighed to himself, taking a sip of tea. Some of these students really didn’t take their studies seriously. He flipped to another page, eyeing a very incorrect character in the middle of the phrase.
“For fear dwells within the water,” a voice said, shockingly close to his shoulder, “Ever churning through the veins.”
Shen Qingqiu didn’t jump, but it was a close thing. If he hadn’t recognized the voice despite his surprise, he would have already struck out blindly and crippled the man. Instead, he twisted in his seat, glaring over his shoulder at the young man reading the calligraphy papers over his shoulder.
The young man tilted his head, his ponytail draping over his shoulder as he gave Shen Qingqiu a lopsided grin. “Well, not completely non-sensical, but fear dwelling in the water isn’t quite the same as fear dwelling within the heart.” He laughed softly. “You should have that student go off that mistake and make a poem about fear dwelling within the water. It could have quite a feeling of atmosphere.”
“Shidi.” Shen Qingqiu greeted with an edge in his voice, ignoring the suggestion, but filing it away for later consideration.
The young man took a step backwards and gave him a salute, not bothering to dispel the self-satisfied grin on his face. “Shen-shixiong, it’s been a while.”
It had been, for some. “Fifteen years is hardly a significant amount of time for us immortals. A fact you should well know, Mo Wanyu.” Shen Qingqiu turned away from the annoying junior, flipping to the next page.
“It’s been a long time because so much has changed!” Mo Wanyu retorted, “You have a head disciple now! I haven’t even met that disciple before, let alone any of the juniors younger than him.” He leaned forward, placing his face in Shen Qingqiu’s line of sight. “And you’ve gotten even more grumpy since I’ve seen you last, Shen Qingqiu.”
Shen Qingqiu glared at him, which Mo Wanyu returned with a little scrunch of his nose and a quirk of his lips. If there was one person who could withstand his sourest moods, it was his junior Mo Wanyu. The glare was nothing, especially not compared to the poison Shen Qingqiu had spit at him when they were still disciples.
Once, when they had been disciples, Shen Qingqiu had asked Mo Wanyu if he was a masochist, since he seemed to enjoy spending so much time around a person who was only cruel to him. Mo Wanyu’s answer at the time had been: ‘My childhood was a void of darkness. Even though I have only a few memories of it, I know that it really should have killed me. But I somehow managed to survive it. I think you are the only person here who could truly understand me, so I want to spend time with you. I don’t have to pretend around you. And I can trust that you’re being honest with me.’
That had shaken Shen Qingqiu’s core, giving Mo Wanyu just enough leeway to slip through the cracks in his shell while he was reeling and stick himself in there, refusing to move as he declared them friends.
It was hard to argue with him. Mostly because Shen Qingqiu couldn’t seem to shake him off after that. ‘Sticky’ wasn’t the right word for it. Instead, he clung to Shen Qingqiu like an angry Fluffy Clinging Claw, a semi-demonic monster that was a ball of fluff with big eyes, sharp teeth, and very grabby hands. It was very hard to remove from whatever it had latched onto, or from whoever it had decided made a nice perch.
Shen Qingqiu leafed through the papers. “So, is there any particular reason you’ve returned this time? Planning to lock yourself in the library again? Researching for a case?”
Mo Wanyu shook his head, “Just finished a case. It was….” He trailed off, a shadow passing over his face. “Just needed to come back home for a while to regroup.” Shen Qingqiu fixed his eyes on the sorrow filled darkness in his eyes. “It was bad, Shixiong, really bad.”
“…You are always allowed to stay in the Senior Dorms. I won’t kick you off the peak.”
Mo Wanyu gave him a small smile of thanks, a small, vulnerable smile that flickered over his lips. It and the sorrow filled darkness in his eyes disappeared behind a near perfect mask a moment later. Mo Wanyu straightened up, looking towards the corner of the courtyard barely a moment before a disciple rounded the wall.
Ming Fan froze, caught halfway through a step. His eyes went wide at the sight of the visitor, seemingly horrified that he’d missed announcing a guest to his Shizun. It was almost laughable.
None of the disciples currently on the peak could catch Mo Wanyu sneaking onto the peak if he didn’t want to be found. Not even the Senior disciples. If Shen Qingqiu had been paying attention, he could have noticed him coming. But the disciples? Not a chance.
“Shizun…,” Ming Fan gasped, starting to look a little sick as he stared at Mo Wanyu.
“Ming Fan, greet your Shishu.” Shen Qingqiu nonchalantly flipped to the next calligraphy page.
Ming Fan blinked, eyes widening a bit, then he saluted, bowing to Mo Wanyu. “This disciple greets Shishu.”
Mo Wanyu’s eyes crinkled at the corners. He gave a little salute back, then tucked his hands behind his back, his lips curling up like the cat that had gotten the cream. Shen Qingqiu shot a glance at him, but figured it wasn’t worth calling him out right that second.
“What is it Ming Fan?”
Ming Fan saluted Shen Qingqiu, “Shizun, this disciple came to see if he could assist you in any way.”
Shen Qingqiu pointed at his empty tea cup and the pot sitting beside it. “Pour a cup for your Shishu too.”
Mo Wanyu laughed softly. “Trapping me in conversation, Shixiong?”
“If I don’t do so quicky, you’ll disappear into some dark hole for the better part of a week before I see you again.” Shen Qingqiu straightened the stack of calligraphy papers in resignation, setting them aside. Really, some of his students acted like they hadn’t already been practicing this for years. “Tell me about your travels, Mo-shidi.”
Mo Wanyu sat down with him, picking up the tea cup Ming Fan set in front of him and taking a drink before he began. “I’ve been working with some cultivators from all different regions. Each of their cultivation is slightly different than what any of the sects practice here. It’s been so interesting to learn from them. I’ll write up some reports while I’m here.”
Shen Qingqiu didn’t look at him as he was speaking, focusing solely on his tea cup. But the familiarity of his ever-clingy shidi was… a welcome change. Mo Wanyu could help keep Yue Qingyuan away from him as well.
~
Mo Wanyu took a deep breath as he unpacked his things. There was a roiling void of darkness in his gut, churned up by a brutal murder and demonic possession case.
The parasitic demon had unsettled him.
That demonic thing fed by trapping its hosts in their own minds, forcing them to watch helplessly as the demon used their body hurt and killed other people. It started with strangers, holding the host’s family hostage in a twisted game of playing house. Then it would turn on the host’s family, beating and killing and violently hurting them. It would keep feeding off the agony and grief of its host until it drained them dry, drained their soul into a hollow husk. Then it’d move onto the next victim.
That thing had worked its way through the capital city, tearing through five families before the news had even reached the Court of Exorcism. Then it had gotten through one and a half more before they finally managed to catch it.
It had shaken him, seeing the terrified tears of the family as the mother huddled her children in the corner, hiding from the thing wearing her husband’s face. Mo Wanyu secretly felt that maybe it was the kinder option if the husband didn’t live after that day. His family would be afraid of him, terrified and forever fearing that he might slip back into that violent persona.
Mo Wanyu blinked, realizing that he’d stopped moving for a minute. He shook his head and started moving again. The whole thing had shaken him. He hadn’t felt so off balance in decades, not since coming to Cang Qiong and Qing Jing.
Mo Wanyu pulled a jade tea set out of his bag and set it on the room’s desk. He’d have to show it to Shen Qingqiu later. But for now…, Mo Wanyu tapped his finger against his lips thoughtfully. He should go to the quiet pool, he decided.
He slipped out of the Senior dorms, strolling down one of the stone pathways with his gquin cradled in his arm. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was so nice to be back. He considered making some paintings or something for his colleagues in the Court of Exorcism. It’d be nice to paint again.
He found the quiet pool deserted. Sitting down on a flat rock at the edge of the water, he laid his gquin across his lap and started with a warm up song.
The already clean air around him cleared even more, feeling like it was taking that roiling, unnerved darkness with it. He already felt a bit lighter, a bit more settled. He wouldn’t mind staying for a while, he decided.
~
The disciples were stalking him. It was really funny.
Mo Wanyu couldn’t go anywhere without at least one or two groups of Shen Qingqiu’s disciples following him, peering around corners and whispering conspiracies to each other. It was really funny that they thought they were being sneaky. They were not. Not at all.
The senior disciples were subtle about it at least. Only a couple of them recognized him from the last time he’d visited, fifteen years ago. But most of the disciples who had been on Qing Jing Peak then had long since moved on now, out into the big wide world to chase their own destinies. Or else they’d moved to Qiong Ding Peak for more formal encounters.
Little traitors. Affectionately though.
Mo Wanyu just pretended he didn’t notice the juniors ‘sneaking’ around after him. He supposed they had a right to be suspicious. Shen Qingqiu didn’t really get many visitors, - Shocker, really! - not like his and Shen Qingqiu’s Shizun had. So, if the juniors wanted to be protective against the ‘stranger’ on their peak, he really couldn’t hold it against him.
To be fair, when he’d been a disciple, he probably would have been much more interested in visiting cultivators if they happened so rarely. But in his Shizun’s day, it hadn’t been too uncommon. They were interesting, sure, but it hadn’t been such a spectacle.
The first real surprising thing was that one disciple in particular seemed to have it out for him, a scrawny boy with fluffy hair just barely contained in his hair ribbon. That boy rarely grouped up with the others, only ever pairing with a girl sometimes, so he wasn’t quite so obscenely easy to spot as the ones who stacked themselves four or five deep.
He seemed to be the youngest, shorter and scrawnier than his peers. He was almost a constant companion whenever Mo Wanyu sat himself down in a pavilion to read or work on something. He lurked at the edges of his vision like a shadow, somehow completing his chores while keeping an eye on Mo Wanyu, especially whenever Shen Qingqiu was around.
Mo Wanyu found himself amused by it. Well, if the disciples wanted to protect their Shizun from this stranger, he couldn’t fault them for it. It was ridiculously endearing.
~
Luo Binghe didn’t like the strange cultivator very much. He was suspicious. He was far too familiar with Shizun, not respectful at all. He was hiding something.
With how familiar he acted with Shizun… he couldn’t be in love with him, could he?!
The hatchet in his hand slipped a little, sticking halfway into the log he was trying to split in half. Lou Binghe desperately tugged it out, managing to cut the log in half on his next swing. He breathed a small sigh of relief, setting the next log up. Cutting firewood was calming for him, it felt like it helped his mind settle, and it gave him space to think.
If the stranger, Mo-shishu, was in love with Shizun, then that was unacceptable. Shizun deserved someone who would treat him with immense respect, someone who understood just how incredible he was. Mo-shishu didn’t do it right, so he couldn’t be allowed to court Shizun.
Luo Binghe fretted as he carried the stack of firewood towards the kitchens, the hatchet bumping against the side of his leg. He couldn’t carry much firewood at once, yet. He was getting better and better, which left him more time to do other things.
Watching the stranger was one.
After his suspicion about Mo-shishu being in love his Shizun, Luo Binghe took it upon himself to watch over the stranger, looking out for suspicious behavior and any sign that he was courting Shizun.
They had tea together a lot, and talked about art and poetry and research papers with words that Luo Binghe didn’t quite understand. Mo-shishu was never as respectful as he should be. He would always get too close to Shizun, even touching him sometimes! He laughed loudly and had a smile that just felt like it was hiding something.
He didn’t seem to be courting Shizun though, rarely showing up with gifts or elegantly worded letters. Though a couple times he handed a letter to Shizun to read, but then he always took it back afterwards. That probably meant none of them were a courting letter meant for Shizun. So that was good. But Luo Binghe still didn’t trust him around his Shizun.
His precious Shizun, he shouldn’t be around someone so… disrespectful. Shizun was so refined and elegant, but Mo-Shishu was… not.
But with all Luo Binghe’s careful observation and hiding himself away from the other disciples that followed Mo-shishu so he wouldn’t be noticed, Mo-shishu was still someone he couldn’t understand. And it came to a confrontation one day, almost two weeks after Mo-shishu arrived. But it wasn’t the confrontation Luo Binghe had been silently planning for.
Luo Binghe sat crouched behind a tree with a thick trunk, hiding in between its roots and holding his latest calligraphy paper in his hands. His hands were shaking on the paper as he stared down at the marks Shizun had made on it.
He had embarrassed himself in front of Shizun again.
The assignment was to copy the poem excerpt that Shizun had presented. They were supposed to copy it exactly, but he’d messed up a character. He’d messed it up so badly! It was a completely different character! And he’d even made the same mistake on a different paper before too! He’d embarrassed himself in front of Shizun. Again.
Luo Binghe wanted to crawl into a hole and hide there until Shizun forgot about his mistake. But that meant he’d be down there forever. Because Shizun wouldn’t just forget a mistake.
And then, just when he was at his most vulnerable, the enemy showed up.
Mo-shishu appeared above him suddenly, looking down at him with an expression he couldn’t read. Luo Binghe was not proud of how hard he jumped, or how close he came to yelping. His heart pounded in his chest, beating against his ribs as the shadow of Mo-shishu fell over him.
Stupid, stupid! He couldn’t show this weakness to people! To anyone! Especially not someone who was a threat to Shizun. Luo Binghe looked up at Mo-shishu, mentally wishing him away, hoping he would just leave.
But Mo-shishu didn’t look like he was going to go away at all. Instead, he was looking intently down at… Binghe’s hands…. The paper!
Luo Binghe pressed his graded paper against his chest, hiding his embarrassment from the unwelcomed stranger. He felt his face getting hotter as heat pricked at his eyes. But he couldn’t cry! Not in front of the enemy!
Mo-shishu bent at the waist, leaning down so his hair turned upside-down and dangled in front of Binghe, the unreadable expression still on his face. “Hey, how old are you?”
Luo Binghe curled tighter around his paper, crushing it against his chest. He peeked out from behind his hair, fighting the hot wetness in his eyes. Mo-shishu just stared blankly at him, his head tilted a little. The longer the moment stretched out, the more obvious it became that he wasn’t going to go away until he got an answer. “I’m twelve,” Binghe responded shortly, “Shishu,” he quickly added. Shizun wouldn’t like it if he was rude to his guest.
“Oh?” Mo-shishu’s eyebrows raised, but with the way he was bent over at the waist, they actually moved towards the ground. “Pretty good for a twelve-year-old.”
Luo Binghe’s eyes widened, then he scowled. “You don’t have to make fun of me….” How rude! Clearly Mo-shishu saw him as an enemy too. And Mo-shishu even had the nerve to laugh!
“I’m not! I’m not! I swear.” He straightened up, then crouched next to Luo Binghe, instead of hovering over him. “Your handwriting is pretty good already. And… you’re one of the kids who only really started learning to read when you got here, right? That makes your progress even more impressive. I’m sure Shixiong, your Shizun I mean, is proud of how much you’ve already learned.”
Luo Binghe’s eyes widened. Shizun… was proud of him? Mo-shishu thought Shizun was proud of him? That was…. Luo Binghe pulled his paper away from his chest, looking down at it again, his eyes tracing the marks Shizun had made.
“Ah. You messed up this character.” Mo-shishu pointed at one of characters Shizun had marked. “Well, it’s mostly right. It just looks like somebody sat on it.” He laughed, tracing out the proper form of the character with his finger. “And these two phrases, here and here, are out of order.”
Luo Binghe lowered his head, hot shame creeping over his face. “I’m stupid….” Mo-shishu made a noise, but Luo Binghe didn’t really hear it. “I keep making the same mistakes and messing up stuff that should be so simple…! Shizun must really think I’m…. I’m so stupid…!”
“Pf! Nah. I still do stuff like that.” Mo-shishu waved his hand dismissively. “You should’ve seen some of my early essays. I’d write everything so completely out of order, Shizun took me to Qian Cao to check for blunt force trauma.” He side-eyed Luo Binghe. “There was none by the way. My brain just mixes things up when I read sometimes. The characters are the same, but they’re in the wrong spot on the page. It was really bad when I was younger, but it’s gotten more manageable now. Practice maybe. But I’m so glad Shixiong doesn’t send my letters back to me graded….”
He scratched his cheek, “So, there’s nothing embarrassing about making a couple mistakes while you’re still learning. You’re allowed to make mistakes, you know? That’s why you’re still learning. Making a couple mistakes isn’t the end of the world.”
Luo Binghe’s eyes widened. He blinked up at Mo-shishu, crouching next to him in the dirt with a casual smile and an open expression. Mo-shishu’s smile spread into a grin. He reached up and ruffled Luo Binghe’s hair.
“You’re making progress,” Mo-shishu said, “And that’s what’s important.”
Luo Binghe’s brain took a second to catch up with the moment.
This was… kind. Mo-shishu was being kind to him. Binghe blinked, feeling something warm collecting in his eyes. Shizun had been kind to him too, had taken him in, had seen something worthwhile in him. Even if Shizun was strict and even if Luo Binghe kept disappointing him, he…. He must have seen that Binghe was making progress, like Mo-shishu said. Was he… not disappointed then?
Luo Binghe lowered his head, hiding his face from Mo-shishu. He felt his lips pressing tightly together, even as they curved into a smile. “Okay…,” he murmured, though he wasn’t sure he was saying it to. “Okay….”
Mo-shishu patted his head again. “Don’t let yourself be your own worst enemy. I’ve been there and it’s not fun and it’s not worth it. You’re doing great.”
Oh. Mo-shishu was a different kind of amazing. Not the untouchable immortal who stood above everything, but the roughly casual cultivator who could crouch in the dirt and smile widely and struggle with reading and still be incredible. Luo Binghe felt his face flush, not from shame or embarrassment this time, but….
Oh no!
~
Mo Wanyu took a walk with Shen Qingqiu after tea one day, a couple days after his arrival. Shen Qingqiu seemed more relaxed than he had been earlier. Mo Wanyu liked to believe that he had something to do about that, that his presence somehow eased his shixiong’s nerves.
A couple of disciples, some of the younger ones, were hovering by the edge of the bamboo forest. Mo Wanyu smiled fondly as he watched the girl bouncing up and down in front of the boy, trying to coax him into her excitement. It reminded him a bit of how he and Shen Qingqiu were when they were younger, Mo Wanyu circling around him, waiting for him to peek out of his shell of his own volition. Though this girl seemed to trying to tug this boy out of his.
After a moment, he recognized the two disciples, Ning Yingying, the somewhat spacey but always eager youngest girl inner disciple, and Lou Binghe, the fairly quiet but dedicated youngest boy.
Shen Qingqiu made a small sound beside him, the scowl hidden behind his fan deepening. As they got closer, their cultivator’s hearing picked up on the conversation.
“…coming to pick flowers with Ying’er, right?”
“Shijie, I can’t right now. I have chores to finish.”
“But A-Luo…!”
Shen Qingqiu twitched. It was minor, hardly noticeable, but Mo Wanyu felt his aura flinch, like it was kicking into fight or flight mode. That was a reaction he hadn’t felt in ages! The only reason he’d even noticed it was because how much time they had spent together. Mo Wanyu turned his head to look up at Shen Qingqiu, but Shen Qingqiu didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were fixed on the disciple pair.
“A-Luo should come pick flowers with Ying’er!”
Mo Wanyu felt Shen Qingqiu’s aura curdle, coiling up like a wounded animal reeling back before lashing out. “Shixiong,” he said in a gentle voice, “I just remembered something, a poem I heard in the capital.”
Shen Qingqiu’s nose twitched, a small response that showed that he heard but wasn’t fully paying attention. Mo Wanyu tilted his head and changed his steps so he drifted in between Shen Qingqiu and the disciples, a smile on his face. “It goes ‘Flowers of night feed into the moonlit river, Flowers of day unfurl under the mid-day sun, But in city or in wild flowers will sprout where is least expected.’ Isn’t that interesting, Shixiong? What do you think it means? I know what it’s talking about, but I want to hear what you think first.”
Shen Qingqiu’s eyes finally tore away from the disciples, looking down at Mo Wanyu. Mo Wanyu smiled a little wider, waiting for an answer. Shen Qingqiu narrowed his eyes. “Is it referring to women? Using ‘flowers’ as allegory like that….”
Mo Wanyu laughed, steering Shen Qingqiu away from the disciples, who hadn’t noticed them at all. As they walked away, he felt Shen Qingqiu’s aura settle, unfurling like a flower under the sun.
The most worrying thing, it kept happening. Again and again, the longer he stayed in Qing Jing peak, he kept seeing the same thing happen. Every time Shen Qingqiu was close to those two disciples, but only when they were together, it happened again.
“A-Luo! A-Luo!”
The aura curled.
“A-Luo! A-Luo!”
The jaw clenched.
“A-Luo!”
The sharp, dangerous fight or flight instincts rose to the surface.
Mo Wanyu had arrived with a collection of poems, thought puzzles, and trivia mentally tabbed for whenever his Shixiong needed to be distracted from the machinations of his own mind. He was very quickly running out.
Something needed to be done.
So, Mo Wanyu slipped away from Shen Qingqiu one afternoon, finding those two disciples together again. He waved as he approached them, “Just the two disciples I was looking for!” He stopped in front of them, crouching down so he was at about their height.
Ning Yingying perked up, eyes going bright. “Mo-shishu needs help? How can Ying’er and A-Luo help Shishu?”
Mo Wanyu pressed his lips together, forcing them into a smile, “It’s just that, actually.” The disciples looked confused. Mo Wanyu sighed softly. “That… name, A-Luo…. Well…, I expect you don’t know, and he’s certainly not going to tell you, but… A-Lou is a very insulting word in Shen-shixiong’s birth dialect. Even though he knows you don’t mean it like that, it probably makes him upset to hear it used on one of his students.”
Both of them looked horrified. Mo Wanyu smiled sympathetically, pressing his hands together. “This Shishu is asking Yingying-shizhi and Binghe-shizhi to think about using another nickname.” They both nodded enthusiastically.
“Ying’er had no idea it could be bad. Should we apologize to Shizun?”
Mo Wanyu shook his head, “I don’t think you need to. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Then what- what should I be called,” Luo Binghe asked, looking much more distressed than Ning Yingying, probably because it was his name that was ‘offending’ his Shizun. Sweet boy.
Mo Wanyu tapped his finger against his lip, “Maybe Bing’er? Then you can be Bing’er and Ying’er.” Both of them lit up at that.
Ning Yingying bounced up and down, her hair flapping against her head. “Oh! Oh! Let’s do that! Bing’er let’s do that!” She beamed at Luo Binghe, who returned the bright grin with a nod.
Mo Wanyu watched them scamper off, using the new dual names gleefully. He did notice, but didn’t react to, the person walking up behind him.
“Do you feel proud lying to children?” Shen Qingqiu asked with a sneer. “Is that what you’ve come to?”
Mo Wanyu gave a small dry laugh. “This small, harmless disceptation is better than the harmful truth, Shixiong. And look, they’re so happy to feel like they know their Shizun a bit better.”
Shen Qingqiu glared at him. “Hm. I don’t know why you felt the need to interfere.”
“You flinch.”
“What.”
“You flinch, Shixiong. Whenever she calls him ‘A-Luo’, you flinch.”
Shen Qingqiu almost sputtered indignantly, but caught himself and flapped his fan to blow air over his face instead. He seethed silently, his jaw clenched too tight to speak.
“Shixiong,” Mo Wanyu said solemnly, his tone dropping, “I may not know exactly what happened in your past, but I can piece together enough to understand.” He finally turned his head to look up at Shen Qingqiu. “My childhood was also… an abyss of darkness that very nearly swallowed me whole, even if I don’t remember most of it.”
Shen Qingqiu didn’t respond, instead tipping his head to hide his face behind his fan.
Mo Wanyu slowly pushed himself to his feet, keeping his eyes on Shen Qingqiu’s face. “I won’t ask you what happened, so instead of a question, I’ll ask for a request.” Shen Qingqiu’s eyes slid over to him questioningly.
Mo Wanyu forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to calm his churning stomach. It had been a very long time since he’d been this angry, coincidently also over Shen-shixiong.
“If there is ever a time where you see that person, the person who hurt you so bad that you still flinch, even years- decades later, when you hear a child share the same name… Shixiong… point him out to me. Point him out and I will bring you his head. His heart will be in your hands before it stops twitching.” Mo Wanyu felt his fingernails bite into his palms, his fists shaking in his sleeves. He was pretty sure he growled out part of that through gritted teeth.
Shen Qingqiu ducked his head. He was quiet for a long moment. “There’s no need. That person has been dead for a long time.” Shen Qingqiu took a deep breath, his shoulders losing tension. Then he spoke so softly that Mo Wanyu almost didn’t hear him, “Shidi, thank you.”
~
Mo Wanyu took a deep breath as he gathered up his things. He’d settled the roiling void of darkness inside him, it was time to go back.
Mo Wanyu let out a sigh, taking another deep breath and letting his eyes close for a minute. It felt so nice to be back on Qing Jing peak. It had been his home for so long, more than the home of his past had ever been. And Shen-shixiong was such a close friend and confidant, even though he was prickly on the best of days.
Mo Wanyu smiled, a little proud of himself and the work he’d put into wearing down his shixiong’s edges. Maybe next time, he’d even get Shen-shixiong and Yue Qingyuan to sit in the same room for a while without pressing each other’s buttons. It had been a ‘work in progress’ for a very long time. And he had promised to visit again sooner. Though Shen Qingqiu probably meant ‘sooner than fifteen years from now’, Mo Wanyu planned to be back much sooner than that.
There were things he had to do, after all.
He raised his eyes. “What’s the major event?”
[Liu Qingge qi deviates in the Spirit Caves: 02 years
Shen Qingqiu accused of murdering Liu Qingge after Liu Qingge dies in the Spirit Caves during a qi deviation.]
Mo Wanyu ginned. “You can you up- not if I can goddamn help it!” He slung his bag over his shoulder. “Get me back here in time to save Liu Qingge and Shen-shixiong, will you?”
[Quest countdown timer started.]
“Thank you, System.”
[Host is welcome.]
Mo Wanyu sighed, very thankful that his system had a build in timer system. He’d never be able to keep all these dates and events straight. Shen-shixiong sure got himself into a lot of trouble. Mo Wanyu smiled to himself. Well, he’d be back before too long. So really, there was nothing to worry about. Right?