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Liu Qingge pushed his cup closer to Shen Qingqiu, silently asking for a refill. Shen Qingqiu sighed at his rude Shidi but ultimately complied. Holding back his sleeve to elegantly pour tea into the tiny cups was an easy thing now, after all of the practice he’d gotten. In all the years since he started to regularly meet Liu Qingge for tea, the other man had never even tried to pour for them.

It was a strange thing, that he had grown to enjoy having tea with Liu Qingge so much. It had taken him a while, a few years in fact, until he grew comfortable enough that the need to fill the silences the other man left faded. Gradually, he stopped bombarding his awkward Shidi with inane chatter and started to sit in comfortable silence with him instead.

In turn, Liu Qingge had relaxed too.

It was something Shen Qingqiu learned to appreciate, sitting in silence. He was able to get lost in his thoughts and know that the other man wouldn’t be offended.

Of course this time, they were sitting here for a specific reason. More precisely, they were sitting under the shade of one of the sparse trees on Bai Zhan, watching their disciples work together.

It had been Luo Binghe, to his surprise, who had come to him with the suggestion of an inter-peak tournament between Bai Zhan and Qing Jing. Sometimes Shen Qingqiu forgot that his disciple wasn’t the same unsociable child anymore he had been only a few years ago. Now his favourite protagonist was a promoter of intra-sect collaboration, it seemed.

As if guided by his thoughts, his eyes found Luo Binghe in the crowd.

In the tournament between Bai Zhan and Qing Jing, Bai Zhan’s disciples predominantly won, with the shining exception of Luo Binghe. Stronger than ever after he had returned from his five-year sabbatical a few months ago, his disciple defeated one Bai Zhan disciple after the other and emerged as the unofficial, glorious winner of the tournament.

Shen Qingqiu couldn’t be prouder.

Now that the main part of the event was over, Luo Binghe stood in a little circle with Ning Yingying, Liu Mingyan, who had shamelessly participated in the tournament on Bai Zhan’s side, a few Bai Zhan disciples and, surprisingly, Ming Fan. His back was turned to Shen Qingqiu, but he could see that he was laughing and chatting amiably with the other disciples.

Shen Qingqiu’s eyes lingered a little on his strong shoulders before he pointedly looked away.

Truly, his disciple had come so far. It had been a constant source of anxiety, in Luo Binghe’s youth, the thought that he would eventually have to push him into the Endless Abyss. The fear had clouded his judgement and made him keep the boy close, closer than had been strictly healthy.

Then, something happened. To this day, Shen Qingqiu didn’t know what exactly, but, from one day to the next, the Immortal Alliance Conference was cancelled, the An Ding peak lord vanished, there was a huge commotion in the demon realm and the sect leader of Huan Hua, the Old Palace Master, was found dead.

And, the most wondrous thing, the system had gone silent. Permanently.

Shen Qingqiu had been so shocked that he kept to his bed for three days afterwards, narrowly skirting past a full-blown qi deviation. He had not realised how much stress he had apparently been under in the months leading up to the conference. Maybe even since he had transmigrated.

After the three days, he had gotten up, feverishly determined to find out what happened. He found nothing. It was only months later when he accidentally met the assumed-dead An Ding peak lord in some nameless, little village and had a very confusing talk with him, that he got an inkling.

He had never been able to confirm his suspicion, of the author transmigrating into a traitor, before Shang Qinghua left without so much as a by-your-leave, off to some seemingly important business.

Maybe he would never know. Shen Qingqiu was alright with that.

Whatever or whoever had been responsible for it, for their freedom, he was grateful. He needed some more time after all the excitement, to shake off the last of the anxiety about his plot-appointed fate.

But then, he slowly started seeing everything that was going wrong on his peak.

When that happened, he started putting serious effort into this whole thing. He learned like never before, attended lessons with his disciples, allegedly to supervise, and later, gave lessons himself. He started having long talks with Ming Fan and Ning Yingying, and then he started having talks with his hall masters and older disciples. And finally, he actually forced himself to work through what the up-keep and managing of his peak entailed.

It had been horrible. Hellish. Entirely too many talks. But somehow, he had done it.

And, as if everything else wasn’t already stressful enough, he worked on re-socialising the protagonist. The boy, only just seventeen back then, had been utterly devastated at being told that it wasn’t proper for a disciple to practically live as a servant in his master’s house.

But, seriously.

What did Shen Qingqiu do all day when he had been seventeen? He played video games and read shitty novels. When Luo Binghe hadn’t been busy learning and attending lessons, he spent all his time cooking and cleaning and doing a peak lord's work for his master. Shen Qingqiu had felt a tiny bit miserable when he realised how much he had used the boy.

He had, unintentionally, deprived the teenager. Isolated him from his peers, held him back from developing his own interests and overworked him.

Undoing this damage had been everything but easy. It involved chasing Luo Binghe out of his kitchen at all times of the day and night, out of his house when he tried to sneak in and clean, finally getting him a bed in the disciples’ quarters, instructing the older disciples to make sure he didn’t do all the laundry, the list went on.

Shen Qingqiu still got a stress headache when he thought about it.

But, eventually, the boy very reluctantly submitted. On Shen Qingqiu’s orders, he grumpily interacted with his peers, got into fights, went to the market and took part in night hunts.

Even then, from time to time, Shen Qingqiu had to force him to take a break. It had been a little like training a dog. Pushing him with his fan to a shady spot outside, forcing him to sit down, then stopping him from meditating.

It was a slow process.

His sabbatical had been a similar struggle. His clingy disciple refused to go until he was nineteen.

Although, in this case, Shen Qingqiu had been somewhat relieved. The re-conditioning of Luo Binghe had needed some more work before he could send the boy away. At least then, he didn’t have to worry about him not taking any breaks in between slaying monsters.

“Don’t come back until at least three years have passed, do you hear this master?” he had said.

Binghe had looked down, looking rather like a beloved family dog being left behind in the rain. “Yes, Shizun.”

“Well,” Shen Qingqiu quickly amended and patted his disciple’s soft, curly hair, “come back when you need help. But you should at least try.”

It turned out that he hadn’t needed to worry. Luo Binghe stayed away for five years and it was Shen Qingqiu who missed him more, in the end.

He was embarrassed to say that, when a disciple had knocked on Shen Qingqiu’s bamboo house to tell him Luo Binghe was back, held up at the bottom of the stairs by his martial brothers and sisters welcoming him back, he almost ran to the top of the stairs to welcome his disciple back.

Luo Binghe’s eyes shone when he saw him standing at the top of the stairs. “Shizun,” he said and it was as if he had never left. Except for the way that he suddenly stood taller than him, twenty-four now and a man.

At least he hadn’t brought a harem back with him.

In the following months, Shen Qingqiu suddenly learned what weakness was. That weakness was his disciple’s care, his bright smile, his ridiculously large hands, the inviting curve of his body.

Shen Qingqiu was outraged. He had never felt things like that before, where were those feelings suddenly coming from? Shen Qingqiu was over thirty years old and suddenly he was developing urges? For his male disciple, of all people?

But, his outrage was left unspoken and heard by no one. There was no judgement, no pressure and, thus left un-fueled, the outrage and fear slowly petered out. They transformed into confusion, interspersed with bouts of denial that were quickly ended by the sight of Luo Binghe, and, finally, into quiet acceptance.

So what if he had feelings for his disciple? Yes, it was inappropriate, but no one would ever know. And, hadn’t he done a good job with him? When he looked at him now, sociable, strong and bright, the lingering guilt over never shoving him into any abyss and thus starting the process of Luo Binghe becoming a demon emperor with a harem in the triple-digits faded.

Binghe would perhaps never become emperor, never use the potential of his heritage to the fullest, but he would become strong anyway. A shining example of a cultivator, undefeated and glorious, maybe even the strongest in the world.

He smiled at that thought, his eyes subconsciously wandering back to Luo Binghe. He really was peerless, Shen Qingqiu thought. Beautiful, strong and warm. Regardless of his inappropriate feelings, Binghe deserved a lovely wife, the best wife. One who loved him and satisfied his bottomless need for attention and love daily. Or a harem, if he was so inclined.

Binghe deserved whatever he wanted.

“You’re staring,” Liu Qingge said next to him, startling him out of his thoughts.

“Hm?” Shen Qingqiu hummed questioningly and automatically moved to pour them another cup of tea.

There was a little moment of silence while Liu Qingge took a sip. Then he said, “He’s your disciple.”

Shen Qingqiu looked at him from under his eyelashes, deadpan. “That is a very astute observation you made there, Shidi.”

“Shut up,” Liu Qingge grumbled back lightly. “You’re in love with him.”

“Ah.” Shen Qingqiu looked away again, the corners of his mouth turned down. How surprisingly observant of his Shidi. Wasn’t he supposed to be an emotion-blind brute? Where was all this suddenly coming from?

When he didn’t answer, Liu Qingge set his cup down, suddenly growing awkward again. “This wasn’t a reprimand,” he said, but it sounded like he’d sprained something, trying to force the words out.

“Wasn’t it,” Shen Qingqiu asked, not morosely at all, he was too dignified for that. “It would be deserved. A master preying on his disciple.”

Liu Qingge snorted into his cup. Shen Qingqiu closed his eyes for a second, grateful that this wasn’t his tea set. “Please, the brat would be ecstatic if you actually preyed on him.”

Shen Qingqiu’s hand raised in outrage but, not sure what rude gesture he wanted to make that Liu Qingge would understand, it just fluttered in the air for a bit before awkwardly sinking down again. “How dare you,” he sniffed. “Luo Binghe is like… he’s like a duckling. He imprinted on me because I was vaguely kind to him at a critical age! Any relationship would be like taking advantage of him!”

Liu Qingge shot him the dryest look over the rim of his teacup Shen Qingqiu had ever seen from him. “He’s a grown man. He knows what he wants.”

Shen Qingqiu resisted the impulse of throwing the remaining tea at Liu Qingge. “Even if that was true, Luo Binghe can have his pick of any young lady… or, or man, if he’s so inclined. It would be a horrible downgrade to settle for this boring old teacher.”

A long-suffering sigh came from beside him but he pointedly kept his eyes turned away and ignored it.

“Anyway,” he said then and set his teacup down, “I need to return home. Thanking Liu Shidi for the tea. Just send the remaining stragglers back to Qing Jing when they’re done.”

He quickly stood and was about to leave when a dark “Shen Qingqiu” stopped him in his tracks. Warily, he looked back at Liu Qingge, waiting for a warning or something similar. But Liu Qingge just pointed at the table where his fan lay, almost forgotten. With an awkward laugh, he shoved it into his sleeve. “Thanking Liu Shidi again.”

He walked past the groups of sweaty, stinking disciples on his way to the bridge, some of them still fighting. A few turned to him as he passed, calls of “Shizun!” and “Did Shizun see this disciple fight?” following him. A few times, he stopped and doled out praise or encouragement, especially to his youngest disciples.

He had started taking on disciples again when Luo Binghe had been eighteen, but they were still too young to win in a serious fight against most Bai Zhan disciples. Still, they tried, and that was worth a bit of praise.

He had just extracted himself from the group of over-eager children when another call of “Shizun!” reached him. Turning around, he saw Luo Binghe and Ning Yingying jogging over, Ming Fan following behind at a more sedate pace.

“Shizun, did you see me trash those Bai Zhan brutes?” Ning Yingying asked proudly. “I certainly would have made first place if it wasn’t for A’Luo.”

Shen Qingqiu severely doubted that but he wasn’t about to destroy his most enthusiastic disciple’s confidence. And Ning Yingying genuinely hadn’t made a bad showing. He just didn’t look forward to all the courting offers he would get from Bai Zhan on behalf of her in the next few weeks.

“En, Ning Yingying fought very well,” he agreed. Satisfied with that, Ning Yingying’s face glowed like the sun.

“Shizun,” a darker, teasing voice butted in. “And did this disciple do well too?”

Shen Qingqiu despaired a little at his precious puppy-turned-wolf. Still adorable, of course, Binghe could never not be, but much less beneficial to his blood pressure.

It didn’t get better as he faced him and felt the impact of the protagonist’s charm like a punch in the gut. He had tied up his hair into a ponytail for the tournament and was just as sweaty as the other disciples but, instead of making him unappealing as it would to a normal person, it just made him glow like he just had three rounds of unrealistic stallion novel sex.

Shen Qingqiu wasn’t qualified for dealing with this.

“Binghe knows how well he fought,” he said chidingly.

Luo Binghe bowed his head in contrition. The fact that it was fake unfortunately didn’t take away from how darling it was. “This disciple only wants to make Shizun proud, of course.”

Before Shen Qingqiu could answer that, Ming Fan joined them and pointedly rolled his eyes. He was immediately targeted by the protagonist’s death stare. “Shifu was satisfied with our peak’s showing then?” Ming Fan asked.

Lazily, Shen Qingqiu took out his fan and snapped it open to crinkle his eyes over its edge at his head disciple. “Indeed. And Ming Fan performed very well too.”

The young man flushed a little at being caught out.

“Shizun,” Binghe said and pushed Ming Fan aside, “may we accompany you on your way back?”

Shen Qingqiu levelled an unimpressed look at him, channelling Liu Shidi, before finally nodding. “If you like, don’t let this master stop you. But you will all take a bath as soon as we’re home.”

He got a chorus of “Yes, Shizun!” and turned around to walk home, now with three chattering additions.

Shen Qingqiu would never admit it, but, now that his three disciples were a bit older, he secretly enjoyed being pestered to join their discussions. They would argue over this and that, if Hallmaster Song was too strict, who the most likely candidate for the head disciple position of Wan Jian was, who was seen in town with whom.

If asked, and he often was asked, Shen Qingqiu would calmly reply that Hallmaster Song was obviously above reproach, Wei Qingwei would only appoint someone as head disciple when that disciple could make a sword as good as his own work, and he would naturally hope that his disciples were above common gossip.

All the while, he took care to hold his fan in a way that covered his smile.

They separated when they arrived at Qing Jing, Ming Fan and Ning Yingying in the direction of the music pavilion, Shen Qingqiu in the library and Luo Binghe who knew where.

He spent a few leisurely hours in the library.

At first, Shen Qingqiu was reading an old cultivation manual from a sect that died out a couple of hundred years ago but specialised in warding and arrays. Then he got distracted by a horrible romance novel lying around.

Two hours later, Shen Qingqiu was snickering loudly at the intellectually challenged main couple. He’d never understand how two people could fail so monumentally at communicating.

Shaking his head, he put the book back where he found it, to be retrieved on another slow afternoon, and started making his way to the bamboo house.

It was really a shame, he mused, that he’d decided to be all morally upstanding and stopped Luo Binghe from being his live-in maid. He could have had the protagonist’s delicious cooking, served by the eager, bright-eyed cook himself, but no.

Being a good person demanded so many sacrifices sometimes.

He lost himself in his daydreams on the way back. Of Luo Binghe pottering around his kitchen, carrying the food into the living room with a blinding smile, his curls swaying behind him. Or maybe he’d put them up into a ponytail while cooking? And then he’d set the dishes down just so and say ‘I hope Shizun will like it! He must let this disciple know if he doesn’t!” even though he knew perfectly well Shen Qingqiu adored everything he cooked.

He sighed wistfully.

So lost was he in his fantasy that, when he entered the house, the clanking coming from the kitchen seemed like just another part of it. When he suddenly realised, no, it was in fact real, Shen Qingqiu stopped just inside the doorway and narrowed his eyes.

Goddamn it, Luo Binghe!

He hurried into the kitchen, determined to give his disciple the scolding of his life for falling back into old habits, but came to a halt as soon as he actually saw him.

Luo Binghe was standing at the counter, delicately wrapping a small wonton and humming with a faint smile on his face. His hair was indeed tied into a ponytail and he was wearing an apron around his waist. Elegant wrists and strong forearms were bared where Luo Binghe had folded the sleeves of his robe up.

Shen Qingqiu sank a little against the wall before catching himself and clearing his throat.

Immediately, Luo Binghe swivelled around, his whole face lighting up before falling into an unconvincingly guilty expression. “Before Shizun says anything!” he quickly said. “This disciple would just like to mention that he hasn’t forgotten about the rules.”

Then his expression became even more pathetic and he somehow managed to look up at Shen Qingqiu even though he was taller.

“But Shizun,” he sniffled, “during all those years this disciple was gone, he often dreamed about standing in Shizun’s kitchen again, cooking for him once more. After all,” there was a second where Binghe hesitated and everything in Shen Qingqiu tensed up in preparation. Then he continued, quieter, “after all, this is this disciple’s home, is it not?”

Fatal hit!

It didn’t matter that this was most likely at least half fake, Shen Qingqiu couldn’t stop himself from tearing up a little. At once, all of his reluctance was washed away and replaced by hot, gooey fondness.

As if possessed, he stepped forward and gently patted his sheep’s fluffy head. “Of course this is your home, Binghe. Very well, you might cook this once. But only this once!”

Binghe perked up, the blinding smile back in place. “This disciple thanks Shizun! He won’t regret it!”

Shen Qingqiu left Binghe to his cooking and went into the main room before he continued embarrassing himself.

He had a meeting with Mu Qingfang tomorrow evening. It was just a casual chat about how one might use some of the more obscure plants around for healing. Of the two, Shen Qingqiu had the vaster knowledge about plants, although he lacked medical knowledge. He still had tried his best to compile a folder of useful notes. The question was just, where was it?

He figured he might as well get started on searching now, instead of at the last moment.

Distractedly, he opened one drawer after the other, half of his mind on the humming coming from the kitchen. Binghe really had a very pleasant voice.

Shen Qingqiu lifted a stack of scrolls from one drawer, but there were only a few old essays underneath. The folder wasn’t in the next drawer either. Finally, he opened one that he didn’t use much, figuring he might as well make sure.

Shen Qingqiu froze when he saw what was inside.

Ah, how could he have forgotten about that? He knelt down on the ground and lifted the fake jade guanyin from the drawer.

Back when the system had shut down, it spat out the only thing that was in the inventory. Distracted and under stress, Shen Qingqiu had simply shoved it into this drawer, thinking that he would give it to Luo Binghe at an opportune moment.

Shame on him! He knew exactly how important this pendant was to Binghe, with it being the only memento he had left of his mother.

Well, he thought and slipped the guanyin into his sleeve, better late than never.

He finally found the folder with his compiled notes between his books, the exact spot he had put it last week so that he’d easily find it for the meeting. Shen Qingqiu shook his head. Was this old age?

He went through them again while he waited for Binghe to finish cooking. It only took about a quarter shichen until Shen Qingqiu had to put his notes back into the folder to make space for the dishes.

Luo Binghe took obvious joy in arranging the food and the tableware just as he liked them and pouring them both tea. Shen Qingqiu tried not to stare at the gap where Binghe’s outer robe fell open, baring the two other robes he wore underneath.

He had no idea at which point he had gotten so used to this world’s sensibilities that he would blush at a man wearing two layers of clothes, but here he was.

In his defence, he could imagine that, if he scooted just a little closer, he would be able to feel Binghe’s body heat wafting out from where the robe was hanging open. He knew his disciple ran warm. If he, hypothetically, inserted himself in between these lapels and drew them shut around his own body, he’d be completely surrounded by Binghe’s warmth and scent.

Shen Qingqiu harshly pinched his thigh. He swore he usually had himself under better control. It must have been Liu Shidi’s doing, talking about love and all kinds of ridiculous scenarios.

“Ah, Binghe, you’ve really outdone yourself. It all looks delicious,” Shen Qingqiu said as soon as Binghe sat down with a smile.

And it was true. Luo Binghe had cooked what looked like a minor feast, soup, chicken, dumplings, steamed vegetables, sweets… “But how will we eat all of it?”

“Shizun doesn’t have to worry. I’ve already had other disciples asking for the leftovers.”

“Ah, that’s alright then,” Shen Qingqiu said, already distracted by the food, and started digging in.

He only remembered to look up again after he had been eating for a few minutes. To his relief, Binghe seemed focused on the food too. But then he noticed Shen Qingqiu’s eyes on him and looked up curiously.

“Did Shizun have fun today, watching the tournament with Liu Shishu?” he asked, his eyes crinkling at Shen Qingqiu.

“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu said, half scoldingly, “peak lords don’t watch their disciples train for fun. It’s very serious business.”

Binghe’s smile turned sly. “This disciple asks for forgiveness. He meant, was Shizun satisfied, watching his disciple beat Liu Shishu’s disciples at their own speciality?”

Shen Qingqiu couldn’t stop an amused snort from escaping him. He quickly held a hand in front of his face and narrowed his eyes at his disciple when he puffed up like a peacock at making his shizun laugh. Unfortunately, under Binghe’s shining eyes, the false outrage quickly faded and was replaced by tenderness.

“My disciple is very bold today,” he finally said.

Luo Binghe hummed in agreement and playfully chased a dumpling with his chopsticks around his plate. How far his little sheep had come, Shen Qingqiu thought as he watched him.

When Luo Binghe had been young, he would never have been able to play with his food, the memories of starvation too fresh in his mind. Young Binghe had been intensely jealous of his food, often eating until he got sick, just so he didn’t have to throw anything away. Shen Qingqiu only later understood what it meant when Binghe had cooked one pot of congee after the other, just so his shizun would have a fresh bowl after waking up from the ordeal of the demon attack.

The fastest way to the heart was through the stomach, indeed.

“Maybe Shizun should punish this disciple for his boldness then,” Binghe said.

“Hm?” Shen Qingqiu looked up, still lost in his thoughts.

“It’s been a while since this disciple had to run laps around the peak,” Luo Binghe cheekily elaborated.

With a heroic effort, Shen Qingqiu choked down another snort. The thought of telling Luo Binghe, who was by now taller and broader than him, to go and run some laps was just too ridiculous.

“This master is afraid Binghe is a bit too old for this master to still punish him.”

Binghe coyly lowered his eyes. “This disciple could never be too old to be grateful for Shizun’s guidance.”

Smooth, Shen Qingqiu had to give him that. He didn’t want to know how many broken hearts Binghe had already left behind with that act.

Although, that reminded him.

With a grimace, Shen Qingqiu set his chopsticks down. “Actually, it might be this master who deserves a punishment.”

At once, he had Luo Binghe’s attention. “I can’t imagine Shizun doing anything that warrants punishment.”

Aah, Binghe, don’t have so much blind trust in this master! You will end up disappointed!

Shen Qingqiu dithered for a bit, thinking about how to start explaining.

“Years ago, this master found something that belongs to Binghe. Instead of returning it immediately, he chose to keep it.” He fiddled with his sleeve for a moment. “I always meant to return it, I promise. The truth is that… I simply forgot.”

Binghe was regarding him with a deep furrow between his eyebrows. “Shizun, this disciple isn’t sure what you’re talking about.”

“Ah,” Shen Qingqiu gave up and simply reached into his sleeve for the guanyin. Without fanfare, he let it drop onto Luo Binghe’s open hand.

Binghe stared at it uncomprehendingly for a long moment, before recognition trickled over his face like water. “This is-” he choked out, his whole body tensing up as he understood what he was holding in his hand.

“This master found it hanging high up on a bamboo branch,” Shen Qingqiu said apprehensively, waiting for Binghe’s reaction. Would he cry? Or worse, be angry?

Strangely enough, his usually weepy disciple did neither. He simply kept staring at the pendant, his upper body curled around it and his face twisted into a miserable expression.

After a minute of no other reaction, Shen Qingqiu couldn’t bear it anymore. “Binghe?” he whispered.

Finally, the other man seemed to wake up from his stupor, but, if anything, his face seemed to become even unhappier.

“This disciple is very glad to have this returned to him,” Binghe said, so quietly Shen Qingqiu had to strain to hear it. Then, even quieter, “but he isn’t sure he deserves to have it anymore.”

What? What was this nonsense? “It’s Binghe’s, of course he deserves to have it.”

Binghe slowly closed his hand around the pendant. “This disciple lied to Shizun.”

Well, none of this was going like Shen Qingqiu had thought it would.

“What did Binghe lie about, hm? I’m sure it’s not all that bad.” Yes, what even was the worst-case scenario here? Cang Qiong was still standing, Shen Qingqiu wasn’t stick-ed, Zhangmen Shixiong was still alive, and Binghe didn’t even have a harem! In his opinion, his disciple was doing just fine.

“It is,” Binghe said miserably. “It is… really bad.”

Out with it, Binghe! This Shen Qingqiu was feeling good about his chances.

Instead, he fell silent again. Then he opened his hand and looked at the fake jade guanyin one more time before looking up at Shen Qingqiu with dry, determined eyes.

“When this disciple spent his five years travelling, he discovered that there was a seal on him. The seal broke when he… got into a sticky situation and…” Binghe faltered and passed a hand over his forehead. When he lowered it again, a glowing heavenly demon mark was visible.

“This disciple is a demon, a… a heavenly demon,” Binghe whispered. “I would understand if Shizun cast this one out for it and. And for the deceit.”

Finally, he fell silent, his head lowered as if he was awaiting execution.

Shen Qingqiu looked up at the ceiling and grimaced. If he had known he would be forced to have a conversation about feelings after the busy day he had, he would have locked himself in the library.

Of course, he was very glad that his disciple found out about his heritage and all that. It was one reason less for Shen Qingqiu to feel guilty about not pushing him onto, or rather, into the path of greatness.

But why was Binghe still so afraid of being cast out of the sect? Shen Qingqiu hadn’t even pushed him into the abyss, he hadn’t abused him or any of the other things the original goods had done.

Then he remembered what had happened to the last known heavenly demon and sighed.

“This master knew,” Shen Qingqiu said with a careless wave of his hand.

Binghe looked up with wide eyes. “What? Shizun knew… What?”

Shen Qingqiu grabbed his fan from his pocket and snapped it open to cover the smile at his disciple’s confusion. “Does Binghe think this master is so clueless that he wouldn’t know one of his disciples is a heavenly demon?”

“Shizun knew?” Binghe yelled, half-risen onto his knees.

Shen Qingqiu shushed him. “A seal is not that hard to find if one is looking for it. And this teacher certainly had enough opportunities to look, with how often he had to heal Binghe,” he said with an admonishing look over the edge of his fan.

“But,” Binghe’s eyes wildly searched his face, “but a seal can be for anything. How did Shizun know that it was there to hide a heavenly demon heritage, of all things?”

Time for some bullshitting. “Does Binghe remember that intersect meeting where we talked with the Old Palace Master of Huan Hua?”

“En.”

Binghe better remember. That old fucker had shamelessly tried to poach his disciple. Fortunately, his Binghe was loyal to a fault, or Shen Qingqiu would have been tempted to try and stab Huan Hua’s sect leader with his fan.

“He commented to me how much Binghe looked like his late head disciple, Su Xiyan. I went to the effort of searching for a picture of the woman and he was right. Binghe does look very similar.” He took a sip of his tea. “Su Xiyan was known for the affair she had with the heavenly demon Tianlang Jun before her death.”

He set the cup down and looked at Binghe very seriously. “Since then, this master knew, or at least highly suspected what was hiding underneath that seal. Binghe, I will not cast you out of the sect for your secret and I will not see you any differently than I did before. However, I think you know that other people might not feel the same. It might be better for Binghe to keep hiding it until he has enough power to not be in danger if anyone finds out.”

His wide-eyed disciple slowly sat back down. “Shizun doesn’t hate me?”

Shen Qingqiu regretted that Binghe wasn’t in fan-whacking distance right now. “Of course this master doesn’t hate you, you foolish boy.”

And then, finally, Binghe choked out a loud sob and lowered his head, the first tears falling onto the fake jade guanyin he hadn’t released this whole time.

Shen Qingqiu just sighed fondly and poured them both another cup of tea.

That night, Shen Qingqiu couldn't fall asleep.

He kept tossing and turning, too warm and too restless, until he couldn’t bear it anymore and got up. Shen Qingqiu tied his hair together at his nape and threw on a green silk robe over his night clothes. Maybe some fresh air would do him good.

Qing Jing was so quiet at night, only the chirping of cicadas replacing the sound of the disciple’s chatter that filled the air in daytime. Shen Qingqiu tugged his robe tighter around himself and walked along the little path through the tall bamboo stalks.

He wasn’t particularly surprised to see Binghe sitting at the edge of the pond, his back turned to Shen Qingqiu. His form wasn’t very discernable, only lit up by the light of the moon and the fireflies as it was, but the wild curls were a dead giveaway.

Shen Qingqiu sat down beside him. “Can’t sleep?”

Luo Binghe slowly turned to look at him and Shen Qingqiu’s breath caught.

It looked like a hundred lights were reflected in Binghe’s eyes, as though they were filled with shining stars.

Shen Qingqiu quickly turned away and cleared his throat.

“This disciple has a lot on his mind,” Luo Binghe said.

He hummed in agreement. It had certainly been a day full of revelations.

They looked at the water for a while before Binghe spoke again. “This disciple is just very happy to be back home.” He leaned forwards to dip his fingertips into the cold water. “When I was away, I thought about being back all the time. All I wanted was to sit with Shizun in the bamboo house, or in the bamboo clearing, or at this pond. I wanted to cook for him and drink tea with him and talk.”

He threw Shen Qingqiu a coy look from under his eyelashes. “Sometimes I even thought about the other disciples.”

Shen Qingqiu wanted to laugh, or snort, or lightly hit his ridiculous disciple, but there was some kind of feeling in his chest and, in the end, he could only keep looking at Binghe.

“Now that I’m finally here,” Binghe continued quietly, “I barely know what to do with myself.”

Oh, he wasn’t good at this, wasn’t good at showing his true feelings, or having heart-to-hearts, but god, did he want to try. Just for Binghe, he could try to overcome his thin face for a moment.

So Shen Qingqiu slowly, carefully, placed a hand over Binghe’s, his disciple’s fingers cold and wet from the water, and gently squeezed it.

“This master,” he started to say before correcting himself, “that is to say, I. I am very glad that Binghe is back too. I missed him. Very much. While he was gone.” Shen Qingqiu grimaced at the halting mess that had just come out of his mouth.

Binghe, though, was looking at him as if he’d made all his wishes come true. It was ridiculous, too shameless, and Shen Qingqiu quickly looked away again from his disciple’s starry eyes. How could he still be that sticky, grown-up as he was?

“Shizun thought of this disciple often, then?”

Lightening-fast, Shen Qingqiu lifted his hand away from Binghe’s and lightly slapped his arm. “Don’t push it.”

Binghe only laughed in response and a comfortable silence fell between them.

It was only broken when Shen Qingqiu looked over again and saw that Binghe had taken the jade pendant back out and was holding it in his hand.

“You still aren’t wearing it? I hope Binghe doesn’t still think he doesn’t deserve it?” Shen Qingqiu asked, a bit exasperated.

Binghe shook his head.

“What else is my disciple thinking about then, that he’s making such a serious face?”

That got a smile out of him. “This foolish student was just thinking about how much he’s changed, from when he first received this.” Binghe softly stroked his thumb over the head of the figure. “How strange,” he softly said, “that it found its way back to me like this.”

Ah, it really wasn’t all that meaningful, Binghe. This master just forget it in a drawer for a few years!

“Shizun?”

“Hm?”

“Would you help me put it on?”

Eh? Wasn’t it just a simple string? But then he looked over and Binghe was holding the thing out to him with such a hopeful look on his face that Shen Qingqiu could only nod.

Silently, he scooted closer and took the necklace from him. And, instead of moving behind Binghe to tie the string at his nape as a normal person would have, Shen Qingqiu decided it would be a good idea to position himself facing Binghe.

When he slipped both of his arms around the other’s neck to tie the necklace at the back, he had to lean forward so far that his chest hovered only a hair’s breadth away from Binghe’s face.

All at once, he acutely felt the awkwardness of the position they were in. Even more so when Binghe exhaled a gust of hot air directly against his nipple.

His hands stilled, his whole body froze as sudden panic set in. What was he doing? What had he been thinking? Had he been thinking?

“Shizun.” Binghe’s voice was hoarse. Then there were hands on his hips.

Shen Qingqiu squeezed his eyes shut. “Mhm?” he asked, trying to sound as normal as possible.

There was no answer. When a few seconds passed and nothing happened, Shen Qingqiu slowly looked down.

Binghe was staring up at him with dark, vulnerable eyes, his throat bared where he was tilting his head up.

Now. There was only so much that could happen until even Shen Qingqiu had to question if his disciple really had nothing but filial feelings for him. At the moment, with Binghe’s adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed and his pupils so dilated he looked drugged, Shen Qingqiu couldn’t quite come up with a filial explanation.

They silently stared into each other’s eyes and Shen Qingqiu frantically, desperately tried to come up with something to say.

If he had found something, it fled as soon as Binghe slowly strained up, closer, without breaking the contact between their eyes.

“Shizun,” he whispered, his lips almost touching the skin of Shen Qingqiu’s jawline.

“Hmm?”

And then there were soft lips against his chin. He closed his eyes against the onslaught, his fingers digging into Binghe’s shoulders. Just as quickly, the light pressure was gone again.

Shen Qingqiu opened his eyes to see Binghe staring up at him, waiting for his reaction.

He didn’t want to know how he looked right now, but he could imagine it, with how helpless he felt, with how wide his eyes were and how hard he was holding onto Binghe’s shoulders.

Carefully, as if he was trying not to spook him, Binghe strained up again. The next kiss landed on his cheek, and Binghe’s lips dragged over his jaw on the way down.

An embarrassing, humiliating gasp escaped Shen Qingqiu.

“Shizun,” Binghe murmured.

“What is it!” he snapped, angrily scraping his nails over his disciple’s shoulders.

“May this disciple kiss y-”

Shen Qingqiu was angry, so angry that he grabbed Binghe’s stupid face with both hands and swooped down to press his lips against his while he was still speaking. He didn’t actually know how to kiss someone, but he could do this at least, a too-hard pressure before he leaned back again.

God, but then he looked at Binghe’s face and his disciple was all flushed, his eyes still closed, his mouth red and open, his face tilted up like a flower seeking the sunlight. A frisson of arousal shot down his chest and into his belly and Shen Qingqiu just needed to bend down again, just to bring their mouths together once more. And maybe to bite Binghe’s red, swollen bottom lip a little.

A low groan came from Binghe’s throat and Shen Qingqiu slid his hands into his hair. Then he grabbed it tightly. Why was it so soft?

Distantly, he noticed that he was sitting on Binghe’s lap now, had been for a while, his thighs spread around his disciple’s hips. How shameless of him, really.

“Why are you so soft?” he murmured breathlessly against Binghe’s mouth. The other man only groaned again, helplessly, and finally wrapped his arms tightly around Shen Qingqiu’s waist, burying his fingers into the soft silk of his robe.

The silk robe was haphazardly tied, at best, and under Binghe’s tugging, quickly came loose. He felt it when it slipped off his shoulders, baring his thin, white night clothes underneath. Binghe drew back, obviously just as surprised as Shen Qingqiu, and cast his eyes over the expanse of his body.

“Shizun,” he sounded wrecked. “You’re so beautiful.”

Shen Qingqiu couldn’t help flushing. “What are you saying, ah? Calling this old teacher beautiful, who taught you that?”

Binghe exhaled a laugh against his chest and looked up at him with pleading eyes, only thinly veiling the amusement beneath. “Shizun being beautiful was one of the first things this disciple learned.”

Shen Qingqiu squawked and flailed off Binghe’s lap in flustered outrage.

The jade guanyin, apparently having been caught between their bellies all this time, fell to the ground. Shen Qingqiu stilled at the sight and Binghe carefully picked it up again.

To his relief, he only held it out to Shen Qingqiu once more. “Does Shizun want to try again?”

Shen Qingqiu huffed and, this time, crawled behind Binghe. The string was easily tied without the distraction of breath and heat and closeness and Shen Qingqiu let the pendant fall onto Binghe’s chest when he was finished.

Quickly, Binghe reached over his shoulder and grabbed Shen Qingqiu’s hand to keep him there. After the initial moment of surprise, Shen Qingqiu slowly relaxed. He tentatively wrapped his arms around Binghe’s shoulders and set his chin onto the wild curls.

Together, they looked out at the pond, at the slowly dwindling fireflies, at the moon. Then, Shen Qingqiu pressed a kiss into Binghe’s hair.

“My dear Binghe,” he murmured, so quietly, only for Binghe to hear, “I really adore you so much.”