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In her long years as right hand woman to Tianlang-Jun, her beloved Emperor, Song Xifeng had been called many names. To the Western Fortress, when war called to her and the demons of the sands grew too rebellious, they called her She-Viper, and they said it with hateful eyes as she walked the cobbled and rust stained streets of Feitenghai. They had never liked her there, never liked her authority or family ties, and so they equated her to a snake, a venomous creature lacking love and fit only to be hunted or left alone. To the East, before they found their ruin, they called her only a scourge, with no sense of naming, for they hadn't had the time to know her blade before the North had done them in first. In Beishan, she had been known as a warrior, sometimes called by her name, sometimes not referred to at all. And in the South, she had even more names.
To her brother, she was 'monster', probably, though she had never asked, and fears the answer more than anything.
To the people, she was General Xifeng, the Red Queen in their raunchy inn songs, and merely A-Song to the pretty maidens who were too blinded by her lecherous smile and open hanfu to think about the connotations of her clan name.
To the Great Families, she was Lady Song, a name they most frequently said behind fans, to either hide sneers, or smiles, both of which she knew not to like. The nobles of the Court would call her sweet little names meant to put her into a box according to the mounds on her chest and the station they felt that put her into, and the Emperor would mostly call her 'friend', even with the weight of expectation that came with the honor. Everything she bore with grace her mother beat into her, with spoons to her knuckles if she thought to step out of her place.
"They will see you as you are, child. Not a soldier, but a girl, and they will think you weak. Do not make yourself out to be a man, it will not help! Stand up straight! Smile wider!" The matriarch would shout, and she learned quickly how to be the woman they wanted her to be. She knew how to wear the rouge on her lips and the pretty floral hanfus, and she knew how to keep a smile on her face even when all she wanted to do was put her fist through someone's chest for the way that they spoke to her. She learned, because she was strong, because her mother was stronger, and so were her aunties, and their mother, and the mothers before her. She learned because she would be the shining example of her clan, and shine she did, until no longer did she have to be the princess, and her mother finally looked at her with pride.
But never to her soldiers had she been anything but herself. To them, she had simply been their teacher.
It's an odd thing, to return to that, all these years later. Once, she had lost it, and she'd long accepted it was gone for good, finding solace only in the bottom of a jar.
With her dear friend's death came her undoing, though maybe it'd be more accurate, more respectful to say that had happened when her little brother murdered their family and left her with nothing. She wants to say, as optimistically as possible, that she might have healed from it, with Tianlang-Jun at her side, and his adorable little nephew there to help. She hadn't been alone, not really, though it had certainly felt that way. But she'd lost them too, and lost herself in the process. No longer was she teacher, or friend. She was just Song Xifeng, the washed up General to a dead Emperor, and everyone knew it best to leave her to her drink, hoping she might simply die that way and stop being such a nuisance.
Of course, she hadn't. She'd persisted, barely, crawled out of her hole of misery and made a name for herself as a drunk but capable mercenary in the North, in the coldest city she could find that would, if nothing else, drive her to take care of her body lest she freeze to death instead. It was a crude method of survival, near killing herself to make sure she didn't do it on purpose, but it worked, and kept her alive long enough to meet Shang Qinghua.
Ah, Shang Qinghua…
It's been a very long time since she's been a teacher, but it's been even longer since she's been a sister, if one could ever have called her that.
Sometimes, looking the man in the eye and seeing the unabashed love he feels for her is heartbreaking. He's really quite bad at hiding it, always wearing his feelings on his sleeve, his humanity something terribly fragile. There is a visceral sort of terror that grows within her when she faces that affection, when he hugs her, easy and lingering, as if he truly finds comfort in her presence, and never flinches from her touch, even when she knows she's not watching her strength and surely he must be uncomfortable. He is unfailingly kind, so familiar with her it's like he's known her all her life, and sometimes she thinks she understands the deification Mo Guozhi creates around the man, even if she's loath to admit it to him and inflate his already massive ego.
There's something different about Shang Qinghua, something that sets him apart from his fellow kin. She's seen humans, fought plenty and even drank a few under the table. She knows they're weak things, but feisty, and hard to root out, like rats in their holes. Some, she knows, have compared Qinghua to such rodents, though never daring enough to do so in her vicinity, but it's less of an insult and more of a complete mischaracterization.
Shang Qinghua is no rodent, no quivering little mouse. He is a crow, a sharp eyed bird that knows all but tells little, a small pretty thing suited for secrets. She'd never go so far as to call him some sort of predator, he is nothing scary, nothing threatening, not on the surface. He hides his sharp angles behind nervous ticks and submissive gestures, quick to bare his throat to dare you to take the bait and ignore the knife in his sleeve. Too, though, she rather thinks he doesn't notice it. It's always amused her, the juxtaposition between his frighteningly observant nature and lack of insight into his own behavior, and she'll never tell him if she can help it. Watching him flail is just as funny as watching people underestimate what hides underneath.
Just as his cleverness is hidden, so too is his strangeness, and the Empress, she's come to find, is similar in this regard.
Song Xifeng's feelings about Tianlang-Jun's son and his husband are...complicated.
It's hard not to look at the man with comparison, forcing him into the shadow of a demon no one else could ever live up to. Oh, she's heard of Luo Binghe, everyone has, but she lived and breathed Tianlang-Jun's empire, and his majesty, his charisma and intelligence...it's hard to find a man capable of filling such big shoes. It's a fault of hers, she's found. Far too similar to her family, such comparisons of two different people, and look where that got them? No, she much prefers not thinking about him at all.
It's hard to do when tasked with helping the halfling's spouse, though.
With the way Mo Guozhi goes on about the guy, she rather expected someone far worse than what she gets, perhaps someone she wouldn't feel too bad about seeing gone. She has no love for Luo Binghe, cares little about his attempt at following in his father's footsteps, and has even less interest in his consort. The rumor mill isn't kind, and Mo Guozhi even less so. What she's heard is enough to make her scoff, but not incite that righteous sort of anger in her breast. Shang Qinghua, after all, is not someone they must coddle. If he were being mistreated, he wouldn't meet the man in the first place.
Upon actually sitting down with Shen Qingqiu, she finds that he's actually...really rather ordinary.
She observes him from her position, sitting across from him at their table, and is bemused to find he's far more similar to Shang Qinghua than anything else.
There's a nervous energy about him, an avoidance when he looks at her, like he can't quite bring himself to look her in the eye. He almost looks flustered, even, and it tickles her pink to see this boyish excitement from the Emperor's Consort, who is, by most accounts, a rather cold man. Honestly, the differing opinions confuse her. Certainly he has a facade, but it's not very good. Nothing her kin wouldn't see through, so she must say, she pities his position in the South. They are ravenous creatures, subsisting off lies and ill-gained, hedonistic pleasures, and they took great care in their cannibalism of the self. They would take delight in tearing apart someone like this, and she can't help but feel pity.
Perhaps that's why she agreed to tutor him in the first place.
She knows she has a bit of a soft spot for the pitiable, and the pathetic. It likely makes her easy to maneuver for Shang Qinghua, but the thought only makes her feel unbearably fond, and she sets her chin on her hand while she watches her little Lord's friend struggle to converse with her properly.
"This one wanted to thank you, Lady...Song, for taking time out of your schedule to help me." Shen Qingqiu says, and hesitantly dips his head in respect, like he isn't quite sure what to do with her. In all of his movements, it's as if he is carefully choosing each one to fit a narrative, an actor in an opera. He'd make a killing with some training. They do so love their plays in Jinzihe.
She can't say she doesn't miss them either, though.
"It's no trouble, Your Majesty. Any friend of Qinghua's is a friend of mine." She demures, and has to bite the inside of her cheek to stop from grinning when her words make his expression curdle like milk before he can hide it. No wonder he carries those fans of his around everywhere.
That her kin haven't quite managed to get to him yet is either a miracle or a warning, and she must wonder what he's hiding, if he is anything like her Queen. What thorns does the rose have, and how sharp are they?
She is eager to find out.
"What was it His Grace said you needed? Etiquette and culture?" The General is tempted to let him flounder a bit more, but she's far less interested in wasting her own time with petty games. She does, after all, have a bigger job to do. But she can have a bit of fun first, can't she? Qinghua had bidden her not to drink excessively, severely limiting her range of hobbies, and she finds herself rather unable to deal with the brunt of his disappointment when she fails to uphold his request. Those doe eyes of his are dangerous! It's like telling an orphan no, or kicking a puppy. Ah, maybe she's just turning soft in her old age.
The man flutters his fan about his face with a nervous tension, eyes roving over the fine grain of the table, but never meeting her own, and he nods, his frantic energy making even that motion chaotic, and stiff. At this rate, he'll get a crick in his neck.
"Alright, kid. First lesson," She says, and leans over the table before he can stop her to grasp his wrist, halting his movement, and forcing him to look at her with pretty, wide eyes, "Never show weakness to those you don't absolutely trust."
From so close to the human, she can see his throat move with a swallow, and allows herself to feel indulgently entertained by the whole thing.
Had this been the lady cultivator her Emperor had taken to, certainly, she knows she'd have already lost an arm for such a transgression.
Perhaps she is lucky, then, that the humans around her now are a tad bit more soft than that. Mostly, she smirks, they just tend to squeal.
"Ah...might Lady Song...let me go?" He requests, testing her grip for a moment, and finding it too strong to break out of. He doesn't slump in defeat, but he doesn't look happy.
"Sure, but try not to tremble when I do, yeah?"
Maybe the cultivator thought himself hidden, but at her words a flush crawls up his cheeks, and he snatches his arm to his chest as if burned the moment her fingers loosen their hold. It's funny he thinks this will get him anywhere, when she serves a man like Shang Qinghua.
"I wasn't...trembling."
"Your pretending might work on your sect members, but I'm older than you by far, little human. I've seen better acting in children." And she nudges him in the jaw with a finger, snickering as he seems to settle on annoyance rather than fear. Better, but not by much.
"Will you be teaching me that, then?" Shen Qingqiu asks, and seems to consciously have to keep himself from fidgeting.
"No. I want you to discard whatever you've heard about me," She holds up a hand when he looks as if he'll protest, "Your first lesson is remembering that you're always going to be the most powerful person in the room, politically. Whatever you've heard about me is probably true, yeah, but it doesn't matter. No matter my strength, you'll always have the upper hand in conversation."
It's kind of a shock she even has to say it, but it's not a rare phenomenon, apparently. Her Lord is just the same. Both forget, far too often it seems, that they hold the power in the relationship. They'll never be as powerful as her, as brutal as Mo Guozhi or, really, ever compare to the strength of a Heavenly Demon, but no level of physical strength matters in the face of political power in the heart of the Court. In Jinzihe, Shen Qingqiu has ultimate power, able to be vetoed only by his own husband, who, if the rumors she's heard are true, likely wouldn't intervene no matter the cruelty of his decisions. A dangerous sort of power, that, but she's not so stupid as to mention it in front of the man. She'll have her own opinions on it, and keep her mouth shut in the meantime.
"It's hard to forget when facing a living legend." He responds, his tone dry, and she feels her lips tug up against her will at the personality finally breaking past his trepidation. Maybe she can forgive it, if it's just because of her fame. It's been a long while since she's ever had a fan, is all.
"They still talk about me down there?" It's an honest question, and not one meant to be humble.
Mostly, she figures it'd be about her brother, and likely some snide comment on her disappearance. Pride before the fall, so they say. And she had certainly had a lot of that.
The Empress nods, a lazy movement, and she watches him close as he begins to build back up that armor of his, stone by stone, shoddy as it may be. She thinks it must be an unconscious thing, but he's so bad at it she can't decide if it's from a life of politics or not. Strange.
Perhaps human courts are different? She wouldn't know. Most of the times she ever interacted with humans, it had been to cut them into pieces. It's always been her strong suit. No, talking was her brother's game, right up until it wasn't.
Gods, but she could use a drink. Or three.
"-Which isn't much, but it's enough to get a picture of who you had been at the time."
The human continues speaking, oblivious to her thoughts, and she figures she probably missed at least some of his words. More's the pity.
"And you heard a lot, huh?"
Again, his face darkens a little, a reaction he forgets to hide, as he says, "They speak of you little, and...less like you're a real person. More like, hm, a character in a story. As I said, most of what I've heard has come from Tianlang-Jun, which felt more reputable than idle Court gossip." Finally, he shrugs, but has the decency to look a smidge embarrassed, at acknowledging his own participation in said gossip. As if she'd judge him for it. Really, it's a good thing he's getting used to it, because making allies will be vital to his success.
As for her friend…
Song Xifeng can't quite stop the smile spreading across her face at the thought of him. The old fool still has to brag about her achievements to anyone who'll listen, it seems. Cold as he could be, he never hesitated to praise those he kept in his graces, which tended to be very few people. It makes her chest tight to hear she still counted amongst them, and she leans both elbows onto the table to support her weight as she sighs. It's good to hear, regardless.
"That old man is more lies than truth, and always has been," She chuckles, the noise rattling in her lungs, and has to fight off a cough. Damn cold. She isn't built for it. "Ah, don't mistake me though. I respect him a great deal. I was his right hand man for years before...well. I'm sure you know."
There's an awkward moment of silence at her words, and in it, she becomes aware of the noise outside of their little corner, tucked away in the massive library, of various dignitaries being escorted around and her soldiers keeping patrol. It's rare she ever has reason to come here, save for accompanying Qinghua when he's researching something. It's nothing compared to the one in Jinzihe, but this one, she knows, holds family secrets locked away within the Palace, rather than a public space for civilians to study. It's a bit of a surprise she's even allowed within it already.
The place is bathed in white stone and the signature navy blues and blacks of the royal family, heating talismans keeping the room warm and bathed in low light. According to the maids that clean the place, Shang Qinghua had thrown a right fit about how cold the place was kept, and had a lecture ready about the safety of the documents, something about brittleness and curling. Regardless of whether or not anyone had understood his words, their King had hopped to do as the human had wanted, which had extended to a bit of a pattern. Even as old as she is, their in your face romance is cute. Young love, as they say. Enough to make her feel her age.
"This one apologizes, I...hadn't meant to bring up bad memories." Shen Qingqiu's feminine lips curl into a frown, and she idly wonders if displeasing the Empress is grounds for execution these days. From what she's heard, it's certainly a possibility.
Well, she's far too old to care about a puffed up little boy's too big pants he's trying to fill. Luo Binghe, she thinks, has yet to prove himself capable of long term rule, and his performance leaves much to be desired. She cares little for his regard, good or bad.
"Most things will bring up such memories. I'd not be here if I let every sour reminder get to me."
"Still, it wasn't my intention. It's only polite to ask for forgiveness."
Such a stickler, this one!
"Whatever makes you happy, Highness," She smiles, and laughs under her breath as his satisfied expression twitches at the title. Yes, far too much like her little Lord. "Now, no more distractions. You want to be taught, then I'll help you."
It isn't so simple as a single lesson, of course. Her brand of training has always been rigorous and difficult, on and off the field, but she isn't so arrogant to think she can get away with her usual methods here. That, and human limitations are something she's become rather familiar with as of late. Shang Qinghua is short and gets exhausted quickly with melee combat, something she's rather quickly given up on. It'd take years for him to ever become good at it, years they don't have, and years she's uninterested in watching him suffer through with more and more insecure jabs at himself. No, with Qinghua, she's found something else for him to do. She'll just have to employ the same tactic here. For however long they have, anyway.
"Keeping your standing in mind, you will be above a lot of customs. As Empress, all eyes look to you for guidance, it's merely how this works. What you wear, how you talk and walk, who you favor and who you dislike, all of this is being scrutinized. I can see you frowning, but you chose this, Highness. Marrying royalty brings with it an agonizing amount of responsibility." And she halts whatever he goes to say by holding a hand up, schooling her features to something more sympathetic, "It's not fun, but a job rarely is. You can either accept this, or be eaten alive by the masses. This isn't me being dramatic, Majesty. You're not a Queen or King, you rule every Realm now. You don't have the option to back out. You will have to learn."
For a minute, by the way his breathing begins to stutter, she thinks maybe she's pushed him too far, which would be rather unfortunate. Luckily for her, he only needs a few seconds to get control of himself again, which she can definitely put to use. Self control will be essential in this role. He doesn't have the luxury Qinghua has, to be able to be himself despite it all. The South will give him no reprieve.
"You, hm, certainly know how to scare someone, Lady Song." Shen Qingqiu states, his wry smile something fragile, like he's upset about having shown his weakness. She doesn't know how to tell him she can see it regardless, and chooses simply not to say anything, only reaching over to clap her hand over his shoulder.
"You good?"
"Y...Yes, I should think so. It's...a lot. All of it is. I don't know how he stands it."
He, probably meaning Qinghua.
She doesn't know much about their relationship. Her Lord rarely speaks of the man unprompted around her, probably fearing he'll upset her by bringing up anything from her past, just as the man in question had. By the way Mo Guozhi tells it, the Empress is a vicious bully, and Qinghua would do better never speaking to the human again, and Jiao Lei never contradicts him, either. But from where she's sitting, Shen Qingqiu seems more like a man lost at sea, completely out of his depth. A child who went too far into the water and found they could no longer touch the bottom. She understands it well, from her own childhood, and finds herself sympathizing against what she's been told. Her friends, as she has begun to hesitantly refer to them as, are overdramatic at the best of times about their Queen. People are categorized as threat or allies, and they always tend to lump people into threat without reason. They are terrified, she's come to find, of Shang Qinghua being taken away from them, for differing reasons.
Jiao Lei, for all his sharp edges and stiff expressions, is unfailingly kind to his cousin, and works primarily for the Demon Lord's best interest. She understands it, and will never fault him for it, but it does lead to him treating Shang Qinghua as an extension of the man himself, or a pet that needs to be looked after lest it run off. She doesn't doubt the retainer cares for Qinghua, deeply, but it stems from duty, and his good judgment will never win out over it.
Mo Guozhi isn't right in the brain, she thinks, and turns to glance out the library doors, past the lingering servants hoping to get a glance at the guest in their home. Beyond them is a lunatic, a demon more invested in violence than he is in his own future. He'd been so caught up in it that he'd damn near gotten himself killed for it, but now that fixation has, apparently, turned to religion. His love for Shang Qinghua is scary, when she tries to observe the man. He's not normal on the best of days, but the things she thinks the warlord would do if asked make her wary of him. Perhaps it isn't fair of her. But sometimes she thinks of what would happen if he did lose their Queen, and she feels rather like she's looking into the eyes of an animal mere seconds away from biting into her throat.
It's hard to see his side of things in regards to other people because of it.
It's better to make her own judgment, really. Though she can't rule out Shang Qinghua's side of the story either. Shen Qingqiu seems kind, if out of his depth. Incompetent but trying, regardless.
If Qinghua's story says otherwise, though...well, she won't be sad to see him fail. Her kin are ruthless, like the hounds of the Guild, and care only for the next thing to talk about behind closed doors. It's in their culture, that apathetic approach to empathy. The East had been the best of them, and they'd been cannibalized for it too. She's lost her family, her place in the Southern Court, but she is a demon from Jinzihe all the same, and she knows how little it takes to tear apart a man as thin-skinned as this.
Despite her thoughts, she doesn't voice them.
"Lots and lots of practice, or so I've heard," And she shrugs, unsure but not very willing to seek out and confirm every asinine rumor she hears, "The maids tell me he's been working with His Majesty since their teens, but…"
Song Xifeng waves her hand for emphasis towards the few ladies pretending to be busy dusting perfectly clean shelves, and feels herself crack a smile when they flee, giggling, at having been caught. By Shen Qingqiu's wide eyes, he'd forgotten they were there. Mistake number two. Never underestimate the usefulness of people everyone tends to ignore. Her brother had favored such spies, so she knew their uses well.
"As you can see, they'll do anything for an interesting story to tell to pass the time. There's another lesson for you, hm? Make friends with the help, and your life will be significantly easier for it. Your servants are what keeps the world turning, and you don't want to know what happens when you disregard them."
"I don't suppose you could write me a few pages worth of notes on this for me to study." Shen Qingqiu asks, voice dry with cracked humor, and she laughs a barking croak, like a wolf, just with less fur.
"No survival guide is going to help you here, I'm afraid. Your Highness was a teacher for a time, yes? This should be simple."
For reasons she doesn't know, though desperately wishes she did, something like bitter amusement flashes across the human's face for a moment, then gone in the blink of an eye. She could, unfairly, try to read into such a reaction, but with sobriety comes compassion, and for once she only catalogs it to muse over later.
"Many things should be, but aren't." Shen Qingqiu sighs, his words tired. Perhaps the situation in the South is more turbulent than she'd been briefed, if he's this exhausted. Learning these things is essential, sure, but if the man is so worn out he can't focus, these lessons will be useless. This is on her time as well as his, and she has a war to worry about. Insurgents knocking at their Southern borders, Abyssal cracks opening across the Realm, a civil war to the West and stirrings of sickness amongst the soldiers to the East, her hands are full. She only counts herself lucky nothing has decided to go wrong within Beishan itself, and thus, gives her some amount of time for what she wants to do.
Which certainly wasn't this, but, ah. Shang Qinghua is hard to say no to.
"Sure," The demoness concedes, though doesn't sound particularly enthused, even to her own ears, "But shit in one hand and wish in the other, see which fills up first."
"Charming."
"Isn't it just? Stop going off topic, kid." The General flicks his hand, "We've got a lot of ground to cover. We'll start with the basic structure of politics in Jinzihe and what to expect, then work our way up, how's that sound?" Not great, probably. These had always been her least favorite things to study as a girl. Nothing but memorizing the names of men and women long dead, and trying to make sense of bloodlines so steeped in petty feuds and drama throughout the years that documentation has become rather difficult, if not downright impossible.
"Total transparency between us?" He asks, and she nods, because she can't do much else when royalty asks that of you. "It sounds awful, and I'd like to go home."
Wouldn't we all? Her bed and warm furs call to her, but instead, she finds herself toughing out a public appearance dealing with a novice. It's not to say she's going to quit, but if he thinks she's going to let him wriggle his way out of this because it seems too tough, he has another thing coming. If Qinghua can suffer days of brutal training just to do one fight he had no hopes of winning, then Shen Qingqiu can deal with a few days of studying to keep himself alive.
Laughing, she stands to browse the shelves behind him, searching for various scrolls and maps to easier explain everything, and dares to drop a hand to his meticulous hair for a moment, taking small delight in the way he goes rigid with surprise, like a cat moments before yowling and running away.
Maybe, with a bit of training, she can whip this human into a proper Empress. Or none of it will stick, and the man's reign will be rather short-lived, as it were.
Either way, what fun.