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Chapter Text

Liu Qingge is the Bai Zhan War God. He does not care much for social niceties, for pretty words with deadly intentions and the endless power struggles of the social world. The only weapon he needs is Cheng Luan, the only strategies he knows are for battle. Call him battle-hungry, call him a brute, a savage— but the battlefield is straightforward. The strong will always win. The weak will lose. There is no “if.” Liu Qingge always knows who will win on the battlefield, but the social world is unsure. The social battlefield is uncharted territory, where evil can win over good. He has not belonged to that world in decades, and he never will.

Shen Qingqiu belongs to that unfamiliar world. He is effortlessly graceful and charming, vicious only when he needs to. He dances in and out of the dens of vipers with practiced ease. He meets the chilly stares of his enemies head on and waltzes away unscathed. His silver tongue is cleverly hidden by the fans he is so fond of. His ability for chess is unparalleled, almost unnervingly accurate in his predictions. With a slack grip, he holds the pieces in his hand, unyielding and all seeing. If Shen Qingqiu desired, he could take the world by storm and spin it like a ball upon his clever fingers.

Despite belonging to that vast and never ending battlefield, Shen Qingqiu is completely and utterly kind. Liu Qingge knows politics— the way that only the wicked survive and the good are trampled on. Yet, Shen Qingqiu manages to be the exception. There is no immortal quite like Shen Qingqiu. He carries enough food and clothes in his qiankun bag to supply the entirety of Qing Jing Peak, and gives it to the dirty street children they so often meet. Shen Qingqiu plays in the dirt, and embraces the ragged children like they are his own. Even when they shake and cry into his clothes, Shen Qungqiu simply rubs their little backs and dries their tears with a careful pass of his sleeves. No immortal would degrade themselves by associating with the children of the homeless, of the sinners and the damned. And yet, Shen Qingqiu does. A graceful fairy, surrounded by dusty children. 

Like the bamboo on his beloved peak, Shen Qingqiu is slender but deceptively strong. He prefers peace, but the Xiu Ya Sword is not an opponent to be taken lightly. His supple skin is white jade, smooth and unblemished. His jet hair flows down his back, its gentle movements in the wind eye-catching. Petal-like lips curving up into a bewitching smile, hidden behind elegant fans and precise gestures. Fluttering sleeves, simple but tasteful decorations. Wrapped in verdant silks and thin gauze, Shen Qingqiu is temptation given form. 

Rumors had spread of the fairy-like Peak Lord, of a beauty hidden far up the mountains. He had the rumors when traveling— a peerless immortal, no, a fairy of green that folds the innocent in his arms and could soothe the souls of even the most troubled. Hundreds of letters from prospective suitors flooded Cang Qiong Sect, carefully hidden away from Shen Qingqiu’s eyes. There were even suitors on Cang Qiong— Liu Qingge was of course one of them. Yue Qingyuan was another, and amusingly enough, even Shen Qingqiu’s beloved disciple seemed determined to win his Shizun. Eyes followed Shen Qingqiu wherever they went, although the man seemed to mistake them for watching Liu Qingge, as if he were wholly unaware of his charm. 

It was completely baffling. Shen Qingqiu, who had enough suitors to fill a city, truly did seem to be unaware. Any attempts of courtship were met with a clueless and utterly confused look. It seemed as if he simply could not process the fact that he was wanted, was desired. Liu Qingge briefly wondered if this was why Yue Qingyuan had ordered all of his suitor’s letters be hidden (or maybe it was so he would have an advantage over them?). Shen Qingqiu was a flower unaware of the impure hands ready to pluck, and Cang Qiong’s thorns shielded him from them all.

Liu Qingge is not a fool.

So when Shen Qingqiu flicks his fan open and runs his deft finger down the fan, he almost chokes on his tea.

I always long to be near you.

His face flushes red, because surely, Shen Qingqiu is joking? He must be. There is no possible way that Shen Qingqiu, who fights battles with charm and grace is expressing interest in the brutish and hot-blooded War God? Shen Qingqiu, this Shen Qingqiu, the one that no one but him knows, plays games. He likes to tease, to fluster Liu Qingge with sly actions, with pretty words. He likes to dance slow circles around him, enticing him to follow. So, this action must be a joke, because if it were real… No, it must be a joke, because there is no possible way that Shen Qingqiu, that Shen Qingqiu…! 

“What— you!” He stammers out, mind having completely shut off. That infuriating man simply chuckles, hiding a smile behind his fan.

“Me, Liu-shidi?” Shen Qingqiu’s eyes dance in delight. “What can this shixiong help you with, hmm?”

Shen Qingqiu leans in, the smile lines around his eyes even more evident. There’s a visible spark of mischief in those eyes, and the man is even more attractive at this moment (which is ridiculous, because Shen Qingqiu is already the most attractive man he’s ever seen).

“You… Shameless!” Liu Qingge gets out. He backs far, far away from Shen Qingqiu. He is a warrior, and like a warrior, he knows that this is a battle he cannot win. He retreats. The Qing Jing Peak Lord looks surprised for a brief second, but it quickly changes to an expression that Liu Qingge reluctantly labels as fond. And Liu Qingge can’t help it— he scowls like a petulant child, but promises to come back next week for meridian cleansing.

They both know that Liu Qingge will be back sooner than that.

Shen Qingqiu’s bell-like laughter follows him out the doorway. 

Shen Qingqiu is serious, it seems. 

It is completely puzzling. Logic defying. Disconcerting and bewildering. But Shen Qingqiu has chosen him. Heroes from all corners of the Earthly Realm and emperors with riches beyond belief. Peerless beauties, famed artisans, knowledgeable scholars. Although Liu Qingge has his fair share of accomplishments, his qualities pale compared to some of Shen Qingqiu’s suitors. 

And yet, Shen Qingqiu chooses him. 

It comes again when he visits for meridian cleansing. The sun has slowly sunk, and golden light washes from the window. The sounds of (admittedly subpar) guqin playing flows in the air, poetry recitals from disciples audible from inside the bamboo house. Qing Jing Peak is peaceful— a far cry from Liu Qingge’s own peak.

But Liu Qingge does not care for the guqin, or for poetry recitals. He is here for one reason, and that one reason is currently leaning into his hands. 

Liu Qingge sits behind Shen Qingqiu, passing qi into his shixiong’s warm back through his hands. Shen Qingqiu is completely relaxed, his eyes closed and breath steady. Shen Qingqiu trusts him, and the man unconsciously leans back, shifting more of his weight onto Liu Qingge. Most people give Liu Qingge a wide berth, afraid to get too close as if he is a wild beast ready to lash out and attack at any moment. Aside from his family, it is only Shen Qingqiu that willingly gets close to Liu Qingge, and it is only the Qing Jing Peak Lord that allows him to be so intimate. Shen Qingqiu’s head tilts back, and Liu Qingge is mesmerized by the blissed out expression sculpted onto that white jade. It is only Liu Qingge that gets to see such a vulnerable expression on the other peak lord and hold him like this— like a lover. 

It is a blessing to have the distant but beautiful Peak Lord in his arms. It is a curse.

Still, Shen Qingqiu stays motionless, his grip on his beloved fan lax. He flicks it open and opens his eyes, lazily fanning himself as the qi flows through his meridians. Even as he passes the qi through his back, Liu Qingge’s eyes track the movement of the fan.

Shen Qingqiu lowers the fan. His hands pause as if hesitant, and then they slide down his chest. The fan stops to rest where Shen Qingqiu’s heart resides. His qi flow stutters.

You have won my love.

The Qing Jing Peak Lord languidly smiles at him and then closes his half-lidded eyes. Liu Qingge can do nothing but look back at the man, his stoic expression on the verge of breaking. 

Shen Qingqiu wants Liu Qingge. Shen Qingqiu wants Liu Qingge. 

Somehow, Liu Qingge has won a battle he never thought he’d win. It is a victory that feels exhilarating, his blood rushing in a way that no post-battle rush has ever been able to replicate. Liu Qingge, the Bai Zhan War God, who clumsily holds his brush and can never quite play the correct melody, has won the affection of the Qing Jing Peak Lord. He doesn’t know how he’s done it— not when he has always struggled to voice his thoughts, his emotions. 

Liu Qingge wants to do right by Shen Qingqiu. No, he will do right by him. Shen Qingqiu deserves only the best. Liu Qingge has never courted anyone before, has never thought of doing so. It seems that Shen Qingqiu is yet again an exception. When he heads back to Bai Zhan, he will have to write to his mother and inform her of his intention to court— something he never thought he would do in his immortal lifetime. 

Liu Qingge’s chest is fuzzy, and his qi feels warm in his system, flowing through with ease. He is happy, incandescently so. He thinks of how he gets to hold the man he loves, thinks of how he will make Shen Qingqiu happy forever. He gets lost in his thoughts, and it is only hours later that he snaps out of it.

He stops the flow of qi. Shen Qingqiu has long since fallen asleep, the steady rise and fall of his chest hypnotic. Liu Qingge takes the moment to look, to truly look, at the man he loves. Dark lashes and paper-thin eyelids, brow relaxed. Blossom petal lips slightly part, a flash of pearl visible. An entrancing pink slip of a tongue. He traces a shaking thumb down the curve of Shen Qingqiu’s face, and watches in fascination as pale crimson blooms.

Excitement sparks in his chest, because Shen Qingqiu has chosen him, feels the same as he does. In Shen Qingqiu’s life, there is room for a lover, a partner. A husband. And Liu Qingge has been given that honor. 

A thick emotion settles and pools in his heart, unfamiliar but more than welcome.

He carefully lifts the Qing Jing Peak Lord in a bridal carry, and relishes the way that the man snuffles and buries his face into his chest (his heart flips, once then twice) as he makes his way to Shen Qingqiu’s bedroom. Qing Jing Peak is quiet, the rustle of the bamboo leaves the only sound.

Shen Qingqiu’s bed is large, far too big for just one person it seems. A multitude of pillows cover the bed’s surface, almost nest-like. They come in a variety of shapes and sizes— round and soft, angular and firm. Curiously, there is a long pillow unlike any he’s ever seen before, laying vertically as if deliberately placed that way. Carefully, Liu Qingge sets Shen Qingqiu down into a part of the bed cleared of pillows, next to the long pillow. Shen Qingqiu rolls in his sleep. How amusing— no, cute. 

And then, Liu Qingge’s breath hitches because there’s no other way to describe it— Shen Qingqiu wraps his body around the long pillow. His arms fold around the pillow, and a leg slides out of his robes to hook around the bottom. If that wasn’t enough, he pushes his face into the pillow and lets out a content sigh.

Liu Qingge stares. The Qing Jing Peak Lord, who is the epitome of grace and elegance, is adorable. He glares at the pillow— he wants to rip it in half. He never thought he’d be jealous of an inanimate object, but that pillow is the luckiest object in the world.

Backing away from the sleeping Shen Qingqiu, he leaves the bamboo house, concealing the sound of his footsteps on the way out. Qing Jing Peak is quiet, as if in respect for the sleeping fairy hidden away in its lush bamboo groves.

Chapter Text

Every month, Liu Mingyan comes over to his peak and they have tea. He is grateful to Qi Qingqi for letting Mingyan come to “his brutish peak,” even if it’s only because Liu Mingyan is her beloved head disciple. 

Mingyan sits across from him, her eyes narrowed. She gracefully sips at her tea. She hasn’t said a word yet, which means that there’s something that’s bothering her. No matter what happens, he will always see her as little Ming-mei— his beloved sister with rounded eyes and chubby cheeks. It worries him. She was grown now, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t without her troubles. 

Before he can ask her what’s wrong, she shifts in her seat and clears her throat.

“Shen Qingqiu,” she says without any preamble. “What is he like?”

Mingyan has always been more… in touch with her emotions, compared to Liu Qingge. It didn’t surprise him that she would ask— she probably knew that he loved the man before he even realized it. He thinks carefully about the question. 

What is Shen Qingqiu like? He is graceful and elegant. Charming, eloquent. Kind. He is forgiving. Beautiful. Shen Qingqiu is passionate and adorable. His love for literature, not just poetry and classics befitting a scholar, is amusing. He thinks Mingyan would get along with Shen Qingqiu— he should introduce them. The man he loves and Ming-mei together, excitedly discussing literature together. Maybe Yanyan would let the Qing Jing Peak Lord, his lover, read the stories that she writes— she refused to let him read it, but maybe Shen Qingqiu would be allowed to.

He’s getting off track— Mingyan is still waiting patiently for his answer.

“He is… lovely,” he answers rather lamely. Mingyan’s eyes widen in poorly concealed shock, but returns to an impassive expression as he continues. 

“He is…” he struggles to put the depth of his feelings, of his affection, into words. “He is a good man.”

Mingyan carefully sets her teacup down.

“Ge-ge…” she starts rather delicately. He tenses, because she doesn’t call him Ge-ge anymore— not unless there’s something very wrong. He is ready to summon Cheng Luan and get rid of her problem when she speaks again. “How do you feel about Shen Qingqiu?” 

He blinks. The answer is rather obvious, isn’t it?

“I love him,” he answers simply. He looks down at the teacup in his hands. As an afterthought, he adds, “I plan to court him.”

When he finally looks back up, Mingyan is leaned over the table, her eyes sparkling. She looks excited in a way that makes Liu Qingge feel just a little wary.  

“Really?” She pulls out a journal, brush already in her hand. “Tell me about it.” 

There is a sect meeting. 

Shen Qingqiu sits next to him, citing the fact that “Liu-shidi is a surprisingly good conversationalist,” completely ignoring the fact that as second-in-command, he should have sat next to the Sect Leader. But they are courting (not that anyone else knows yet), so it is fine that Shen Qingqiu sits next to him. It doesn’t matter in the end, because Shen Qingqiu’s eyes are on him and his chair is positioned close, but far enough to be appropriate for a formal setting. He resolutely ignores the looks that the other peak lords shoot them, focusing on Shen Qingqiu.

Like normal, Shang Qinghua rambles on and on— something about replacement costs? Liu Qingge privately thinks the man is like a mole or some other small rodent. Still, the Ah Ding Peak Lord is Shen Qingqiu’s friend, so he will put up with the man.

Shen Qingqiu keeps his fan open for the whole meeting, and Liu Qingge quickly realizes why. The scholar’s face twists into a multitude of expressions. An adorable pout. Small yawns, frowns, sometimes mocking the words of Shang Qinghua. Shen Qingqiu is adorable. And yet, his eyes stay the same— solemn, dignified.

It takes all of his effort, but Liu Qingge keeps his expression stoic and trains his eyes onto Shang Qinghua’s bumbling form. This side of Shen Qingqiu— this expressive, cute side— is one that only Liu Qingge is allowed to see. But they are in the middle of a sect meeting, and Liu Qingge is possessive. He doesn’t want to call attention to it, to let anyone else see this secret. 

Eventually, the meeting ends. Liu Qingge gets up, offers Shen Qingqiu a hand. Shen Qingqiu turns those pleased eyes onto him and takes his hand with a teasing “Ah, so filial! Truly a model sect sibling,” knowing full well that they are more than just sect siblings. He grunts in response, and Shen Qingqiu lets out a little chuckle.

“Shen-shidi.” Yue Qingyuan comes up to them with an awkward smile. “Can we speak for a bit? Alone. I need to ask you about something.” 

Shen Qingqiu looks a little awkward, and starts fiddling with his fan. 

“Of course, Zhangmen-shixiong.” He agrees with a forced lightheartedness. “I hope it’s not too important.”

Liu Qingge knows exactly what will happen next— Zhangmen-shixiong is one of Shen Qingqiu’s suitors. Shen Qingqiu chose to sit next to Liu Qingge, and no doubt Yue Qingyuan will ask Shen Qingqiu about that. Yue Qingyuan wants Shen Qingqiu too— and he knows that the man is more than capable of sweeping Shen Qingqiu off his feet.

Before he can stop Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu from leaving, Shen Qingqiu twirls his fan with his right hand.

I love another.

Yue Qingyuan’s smile falters. It is a simple rejection, but it hurts nevertheless.

“Ah… My apologies, Shen-shidi. I was…” he trails off. “Unaware.” To his credit, Yue Qingyuan takes the news rather well.

“It’s quite alright,” the Qing Jing Peak Lord says smoothly. “If there’s not anything else…?”

Yue Qingyuan shakes his head weakly. Shen Qingqiu turns to Liu Qingge and smiles.

“Liu-shidi, are you busy? I’d like for you to come over to Qing Jing for a bit. I’d like your opinion on how to deal with these beasts I’m researching…” Shen Qingqiu nods towards the door. “Well, Sect Leader, if there’s not anything else, Liu-shidi and I will take our leave.”

They leave together, and Liu Qingge carefully reaches out for Shen Qingqiu’s hand. He pulls back a bit, but Shen Qingqiu closes the distance. Their hands tangle together, and Liu Qingge can hear Yue Qingyuan choke behind them.

“Liu-shidi, did you want to hold my hand? Aiya, how old are you?” Still, Shen Qingqiu’s eyes are warm. “Don’t be so afraid. I won’t bite.”

His ears burn, and Shen Qingqiu’s laugh tinkles like bells in the hall.

Liu Qingge is once again on Qing Jing Peak. 

Today, Shen Qingqiu’s beloved disciples are practicing calligraphy, so he does not hear guqin or poetry recitals.

Rather, it is Shen Qingqiu’s melodic and soothing voice that carries in the air. They walk through the bamboo groves of Qing Jing Peak, golden sunlight filtering through the poles. Shen Qingqiu looks like a wandering fairy, and Liu Qingge wishes (not for the first time) that he was talented with a brush so he could depict the scene in front of him. 

He loves Shen Qingqiu. It’s a miracle that the other feels the same about him. Liu Qingge is allowed to call Shen Qingqiu his partner. His lover. He is the only man in the world who gets the honor to do so. Shen Qingqiu will do the same for him, because he wants Liu Qingge in the same way, chose him because he wants it too.

Someday, Shen Qingqiu will allow him to press his lips against the soft skin of his hand, the pale wrist. He will be allowed to cup the side of his face, and kiss a blooming trail of red before capturing those tempting lips with his own. He would be allowed to worship the man before him, and he would cover every little stretch of skin. 

It is only the two of them, and Liu Qingge sees no reason not to— he smiles. He is happy, incandescently so. He is allowed this bliss for the rest of his immortal life, how could he not be happy? 

Shen Qingqiu’s voice abruptly stops and he hears him choke. He looks back at Shen Qingqiu, concerned. Shen Qingqiu’s face is flushed and he quickly averts his eyes, snapping his fan open and fanning himself.

“You smiled,” Shen Qingqiu quietly says. “It was, no, it is…” His face turns redder. Liu Qingge feels so enamored, because Shen Qingqiu is so easily embarrassed— to the point where even a smile breaks the man’s composure. And Liu Qingge is the one to do that. He’d like to always see Shen Qingqiu honest like this, his emotions so easily on display.

“Nevermind,” he snaps out, flustered. “Forget what this shixiong just said.” He starts walking faster, leaving Liu Qingge behind in the grove. The immortal fairy Shen Qingqiu— the peerless beauty of Qing Jing Peak— has a thin face. He is flustered simply by Liu Qingge’s smile. Liu Qingge lets the sheer adoration wash over him, relishes in the warm feeling— or is it the sunlight?

He catches up with Shen Qingqiu easily, his heart filled with pure affection. He simply settles next to the other’s side. Shen Qingqiu looks at him, his face still red from before. The walk to the bamboo house is silent, but neither feel the need to speak. In what seems like seconds, they reach the entrance to Shen Qingqiu’s house.

“Liu-shidi—”

“Qingge.” He cuts Shen Qingqiu off. “Call me Qingge.”

He watches with satisfaction as Shen Qingqiu blushes yet again and snaps his fan open.

“...” Shen Qingqiu’s mouth opens and closes, and Liu Qingge resists the urge to smirk. The Qing Jing Peak Lord is speechless, and he is the reason why.

“...Qingge.” He mumbles, fan lowering. The sound of his name is sweet on Shen Qingqiu’s tongue. It’s as if it was meant to be said in Shen Qingqiu’s voice, and he feels like he could get drunk on the sound. 

It’s only fair to return the favor, he feels. Gathering up all of his courage, his strength he calls out—

“Qingqiu.” His tone is harder than what he meant. He tries again, softer this time. “Qingqiu.” 

Shen Qingqiu carefully takes his hand, like Liu Qingge might bolt at any minute.

“Qingge,” he calls. There is a small smile on his face, and Liu Qingge looks directly into the eyes of Shen— no, Qingqiu. He looks into Qingqiu’s eyes. “Join me for dinner.”

Liu Qingge squeezes Qingqiu’s hand.

“Yes.”

Chapter Text

Their routine is familiar now, peaceful and relaxing. Liu Qingge does not usually like change, but he finds that this change is more than welcome. In fact, he looks forward to it. What happens is this:

Shen Qingqiu will come over for a “short visit,” eyes playful and a small quirk of his lips. Liu Qingge will pretend to be cross, and grumble about how he’s busy. Nevertheless, he will let Shen Qingqiu in and brew the tea. From there, Shen Qingqiu pulls out his paperwork from the qiankun pouch sewn in his sleeve and they indulge in light conversation. Eventually, the sun sets. Shen Qingqiu will exclaim how late it’s gotten, and will sometimes excuse himself, quietly slipping out of the door with a promise to come by soon. 

But sometimes, when Liu Qingge is very lucky, Shen Qingqiu will yawn, eyes crinkling. He moves slower than usual, and is just a bit more open. His fan droops, his posture not so stiff. Liu Qingge will tell him to take the spare bedroom, and Shen Qingqiu will protest as decorum states he should. Still, Liu Qingge insists because it is dangerous at night— the standard excuse— even though they both know that the Xiu Ya Sword is more than capable of defending himself and that no Bai Zhan disciple would dare to harm him. Shen Qingqiu will finally give in at that point.

It is a good routine, and Liu Qingge is content. But Shen Qingqiu is a man full of surprises, and one night, the routine changes. 

Shen Qingqiu asks him, soft and vulnerable— “Qingge, would you help me brush my hair?” 

He is starstruck, but Shen Qingqiu doesn’t mind. He pulls Liu Qingge to the bedroom— Liu Qingge’s bedroom, someday their bedroom— and sits at the vanity. With shaking fingers, he pulls the pin from the hair crown and watches as jet hair flows down Shen Qingqiu’s back. He looks at Shen Qingqiu in the mirror, looks at his pleased expression and his own lovestruck one. Shen Qingqiu, so put-together and dignified, is undone and relaxed. Liu Qingge is allowed this treasure, this beauty meant only for him. Someday, Liu Qingge will have this every night, not just this one stolen moment.

He swallows, running the wide-toothed comb down the length of his lover’s soft hair. Shen Qingqiu makes a pleased sound, leaning more into the sturdy chest behind him. Liu Qingge’s hand stops just for a bit, takes a deep breath— if only to control the wild beating of his heart, to cool the heat rushing through his veins. He switches to the fine tooth comb. 

Shen Qingqiu’s hair is soft under his fingers.

Eventually, he finishes brushing through his hair and adding in the various oils— both protective and scented. Shen Qingqiu is wrapped in his scent right now, and he feels like he’s punchdrunk. Shen Qingqiu smiles at him, their eyes meeting in the vanity mirror. He stands up from the vanity, but instead of leaving, he pushes Liu Qingge down into the seat.

His lover laughs at his puzzled expression, but teasingly squeezes his shoulders.

“Allow this shixiong to repay the favor, Qingge.” Liu Qingge feels weak, feels vulnerable— but he nods anyways.

Shen Qingqiu’s deft fingers tease at his hair tie for what seems like forever, and then gently undo it like he is a gift wrapped with a silken ribbon.

Liu Qingge’s hair falls.

Shen Qingqiu smiles and picks up the comb.

In the morning, Shen Qingqiu knocks on his door. His hair is unbound, slightly rumpled from sleep. It is a good look on him. Although, his mind whispers, wouldn’t it be so much better if he joined you in bed? Rather than him sleeping in the next room over— his bed is big enough for two, after all. He shakes away the thought and looks at his lover.

“Qingge,” he says with a slight smile. “Please allow this one to help you with your hair this morning.” His eyes twinkle in the early morning, and Liu Qingge feels nothing but bliss. And there’s no reason to refuse his offer— he steps aside, a silent invitation. Shen Qingqiu waltzes past, and he stares at him. 

“Come, Qingge. Don’t just stand there,” he teases. Liu Qingge walks over to the vanity and promptly sits, ignoring his lover’s stifled laughter. Shen Qingqiu begins, and Liu Qingge closes his eyes.

He wonders if this is what he has to look forward to. Instead of Shen Qingqiu leaving, they would be home together. Home. Home is not Bai Zhan Peak. It’s not Qing Jing either. He suspects it is the same for Shen Qingqiu— although the man loves his peak, he has no trouble leaving it for Liu Qingge.

They would share their meals, and revel in each other’s company. Liu Qingge could sweep Shen Qingqiu into his arms, and the other man would lightly smack him with a fan before wrapping his arms around him. When night falls, they would retire to their— their, he thinks contentedly— bedchambers. They would unbind their hair, and fall asleep in each other’s embrace. And when the morning came, they would help each other begin the day. A peaceful cycle, for the rest of their lives.

“... Qingge… Qingge?” When he blinks his eyes open, he is still in front of the vanity, and he realizes with embarrassment that he had fallen asleep. His hair hasn’t been pulled up into his usual ponytail, and he stares in the mirror at his hair.

Complicated braids track all over his head. It is artfully twisted and delicate, intricate. He looks closely, and realizes that there are even roses delicately braided from his hair. He has never seen such impressive work, even on spoiled young misses. The more he looks, the more detail he sees and Liu Qingge knows that this must’ve taken quite a while to do. He didn’t know that Shen Qingqiu had this skill— speaking of which, the man in question looks rather smug.

 “Shen Qingqiu,” he says out of habit, flustered. “What are— you!”

“Ah, my apologies Liu-shidi,” he says without absolutely no regret in his voice. “This shixiong simply got… carried away. Please forgive me this one time…” He starts picking at the hair, braids falling loose.

“Wait.” Shen Qingqiu had gone through all of the trouble of creating it, even if it was just for one of his beloved jokes. “Thank you. It’s… pretty.”

“Of course, Qingge.” He looks thoughtful, before a glint of playfulness enters his eyes. “Well then, let me rebraid it, hmm? Indulge this shixiong— wear your hair like this for the rest of the day.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “I will.”

He knows that Shen Qingqiu meant it as a joke, but Shen Qingqiu put a lot of effort into his hair. It wouldn’t be right to let Shen Qingqiu undo all of his work and tie his hair up into his normal and plain hairstyle.

“Shidi! I was just joking,” Shen Qingqiu splutters. It’s adorable just how flustered he gets, and he bites back a smile. “You don’t have to!”

“I know.” After some hesitation he adds, “I want to.”

“V-very well.” Shen Qingqiu averts his eyes from Liu Qingge’s in the mirror. “Sit still then.”

His deft fingers carefully twist strands of hair together, and before he knows it, Shen Qingqiu has already finished putting it back. As soon as he finishes, Liu Qingge stands and pushes Shen Qingqiu into the still warm seat.

Before Shen Qingqiu can protest, he carefully lays a hand on his shoulder, a silent question. Shen Qingqiu locks eyes with him in the mirror and nods once.

Shen Qingqiu’s hair is silky, soft and fine. He runs through it with his fingers once, then again with the wide-tooth and fine-tooth combs. He carefully gathers it into his hands, fingers running through his scalp to make sure no strands have slipped out of his grasp. He feels a brief pang of regret— he does not have skill when it comes to hair, not like Shen Qingqiu. His fingers are clumsy and leaden, so a simple ponytail is all he is capable of.

With one final pass of his hands, he smooths down Shen Qingqiu’s hair before finally tying it into a ponytail reminiscent of his usual one. The white ribbon— his white ribbon— is stark against Shen Qingqiu’s jet hair. As soon as he finishes, he wants to take it back down— not because it looks bad. In fact, it’s the complete opposite. Shen Qingqiu moves his head and his hair moves, almost hypnotically. His eyes track the movement and then freeze, because Shen Qingqiu’s pale nape is completely exposed. 

He quickly moves to let Shen Qingqiu’s hair down, but Shen Qingqiu is too quick and gracefully slides out his chair and out of his reach.

“Now now, Qingge, really! You put up my hair for me, don’t try and take it down already,” he scolds. His hair swings, and Liu Qingge is even more aware of all of his lover’s exposed skin.

“You, you!” He’s at a loss for words. “That— shameless!”

They’re familiar words, and Shen Qingqiu smiles at them.

“Well then, shidi, come join your shameless shixiong for breakfast, hmm?” 

Liu Qingge only remembers his extravagant hair once he steps out of his house to the stares of his disciples.

There is a knock on the door. Liu Qingge frowns, because he has explicitly told his disciples to not bother coming by anymore. The sun is close to setting, and it’s only Shen Qingqiu who comes for his company this late— but Shen Qingqiu is already here, doing his paperwork at Liu Qingge’s desk. 

The door opens though, and Liu Qingge knows exactly who it is. After all, there are only two people who would enter without further permission.

“Mingyan.” 

“Qingge.” 

She walks over to the table and sits down. Liu Qingge reaches for the teapot, but Mingyan spots the half-empty tea cup already on the table. 

“Brother, do you have company right now?” Before he can respond, Shen Qingqiu ambles in as if right on cue. He is distracted though, and doesn’t notice Mingyan sitting at the table. He hears Mingyan gasp, and before he can reprimand her, Shen Qingqiu absentmindedly speaks.

“Qingge, your hair oil is running out— I’ll buy some tomorrow, but use mine tonight, hmm? I— oh!” He finally spots Mingyan at the table. Mingyan hasn’t said a word, but her eyes flash dangerously under her veil. Her accusatory stare burns hot on his skin. He shifts in his seat.

Shen Qingqiu is unaware of their silent but intense conversation, and contrary to his expectations, he does not turn pink from having accidentally revealed just how intimate they are. Rather, his eyes light up in delight.

“You must be Mingyan! Er, Mingyan-shizhi. Ah, you really must be a peerless beauty.” he compliments. Before Mingyan can speak, he adds, “After all, you’re Qingge’s sister!” 

He walks to the table and without any warning, sits next to him— sipping his half-drunk tea. Liu Qingge flushes, because Shen Qingqiu is doing… that again. He states and implies his opinions bluntly, and he never quite knows if it’s on purpose or accidental.

“My apologies Shen-shibo.” Mingyan states. “I was unaware that my brother had company.” Her eyes slide from the Qing Jing Peak Lord to him, and then back.

Shen Qingqiu smiles kindly at her.

“Do not apologize. From what Qingge has told his shixiong, he treasures you very much. Ah, he is very good— filial to his blood siblings, and even indulges this shixiong!” Shen Qingqiu praises him even further, and he imagines Mingyan’s eyebrows have shot even further up at the mention of “shixiong.” 

Shen Qingqiu likes this game— to refer to themselves as shidi and shixiong in front of others, even though they are much more than that. But Shen Qingqiu rewards him for playing along— Liu Qingge gets to tangle their fingers together, brush his hair, have his lover sleep just a room away. It is addicting, and Liu Qingge feels excitement lick like a flame up his spine. And well, Liu Qingge is more than happy to indulge his lover.

“Yes,” she says evenly. “I am truly lucky to have such a great brother.” She studies Shen Qingqiu, face stoic under her veil.

“This one will leave early— such strong familial bonds should be encouraged. Qingge will let you stay the night— this master can assure you that his beds are quite nice.” Liu Qingge chokes, but Shen Qingqiu doesn’t seem to notice what he’s implied. “Qingqi-shimei should be fine with you staying the night since you have blood ties, but if it’s a problem this master can speak with her. Ah! Before this one goes, I must collect my paperwork. It was nice meeting you, Mingyan-shizhi.”

Shen Qingqiu goes just as quickly as he came, leaving both Liu siblings stunned. Mingyan is the first to speak.

“Ge-ge.” Her voice is soft. “I am happy for you.” They are simple words, but they are words that mean the world to him, because his love, the fairy of Cang Qiong, is approved by his sister. His family.

“Mingyan.” His voice is soft, a far cry from what it is normally. “I love him.” He had said it once before, but this time feels much different. 

“I know,” she smiles. “When do you plan to ask for marriage?” 

It is blunt, but that’s how they’ve always been— straightforward to a fault.

“In two months.” It is early, but Liu Qingge is already completely devoted to Shen Qingqiu. “The wedding will be when the snow falls.”

He’s already thought ahead— and he knows that the wedding will be held then. It has to be. It is Shen Qingqiu’s favorite time, and he thinks of reddened cheeks and sparkling eyes. He wants Shen Qingqiu to fondly remember their wedding, to hold him in his arms and warmly celebrate their union in his favorite season for years, decades, centuries to come.

The wedding will be splendid, and Shen Qingqiu will be enchanting— the richest reds of silk and the bright shine of jewelry against the pure white snow. 

“Two months,” he repeats.

Chapter Text

Liu Qingge is blindsided.

After Mingyan’s visit, Shen Qingqiu changes. 

He stops coming to Bai Zhan Peak. He understands, although he’s just a bit disappointed. Decorum states that they must not be too intimate, and Shen Qingqiu is very strict (although they had long since broken it, with Shen Qingqiu staying the night more often than not and allowing him to brush his hair). Besides, they are both peak lords, and they have official duties to do. Shen Qingqiu can’t always just indulge his lover. He is fine with this, although he misses the other’s presence.

Shen Qingqiu is somehow never on the peak at the same time as him. Liu Qingge chalks this up to the fact that again, they are both peak lords, and are always kept busy. Still, it is unusual that they are not together, and Shen Qingqiu hasn’t been by his side.

He figures it out.

Shen Qingqiu is avoiding him.

Liu Qingge feels crushed. He is completely and totally devoted to Shen Qingqiu. And yet, he’s made a misstep somewhere, because Shen Qingqiu is going through the difficulties of avoiding him no matter what. The Qing Jing disciples look at him with barely disguised contempt, as if he has broken their master’s delicate heart. 

Liu Qingge is aware that there are rumors about them, but they don’t mean anything. He frowns, thinking about them. The rumors had simply consisted of their closeness, and speculations about their relationship as “just” sect siblings. But none of that would have made his lover avoid him, right?

He misses Shen Qingqiu so much. He didn’t realize it until he was gone. His day is just a bit duller without the other. Has life always been so bland, so boring? The day seems longer, the work just a bit more grueling. He doesn’t know how he has lived without Shen Qingqiu if this is what life is like without him.

He wants to talk to Shen Qingqiu— wants to, needs to find out what exactly he’s done.

His opportunity comes a week later. 

He finally, finally catches sight of his slighted lover outside of his peak home and before he can run, Liu Qingge calls out to him.

“Ah, Liu-shidi!” The smile on Shen Qingqiu’s face is forced, and he feels his heart crack a little. “I wasn’t expecting you.” It hurts, because they had spent every day, every moment that they possibly could together. If Shen Qingqiu didn’t come over to Bai Zhan, then he would travel to Qing Jing— it is a routine that Liu Qingge knows and it has been completely shattered. 

He doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t know what he’s done, because Shen Qingqiu is avoiding him, he’s not coming to Bai Zhan anymore, and he’s not Qingge anymore. 

He’s just Liu-shidi.  

Shen Qingqiu is building a wall around his heart, and Liu Qingge is standing on the outside.

“Why are you avoiding me,” he grits out. Subtlety has never been his specialty, and he presses on. “What happened? Have I done something?”

Shen Qingqiu looks away, shifting uncomfortably. He fiddles with his fan.

“Shidi has done nothing wrong. This shixiong has been dealing with his own issues. It doesn't matter.” He flicks his fan open and closed several times, and Liu Qingge knows he is lying, because he knows what that means.

You are cruel.

The crack in his heart runs deeper.

“Qingqiu,” he says. “Please, don’t lie.” 

The plea of to me remains unspoken.

“This shixiong—” His beloved cuts off, struggling to find his words. “This shixiong apologizes.”

Liu Qingge wants to hold him gently, to run his fingers through that soft hair and coax out the truth from his troubled conscience. But he is not allowed to do that— he stands back. He knows when to retreat.

“Qingqiu. I promise that I will right this. What I’ve done— I will make it up to you.” 

Shen Qingqiu laughs— it sounds pleasant, but Liu Qingge knows that cadence. It is reserved for when he is trying to hide what he really feels. 

The crack in his heart finally runs so deep that he feels it split into two jagged pieces.

“It is nothing. I— this one was foolish.” He carefully picks his next words. “This master was greedy and desired, believed that he could keep a treasure that was never his.”

He looks up at Liu Qingge, and his expression (resignation, defeat, acceptance) makes his chest tighten— it is an ugly, terrible feeling. He wants to rip it out and pierce its core with Cheng Luan.

“It is getting dark, shidi.” The sun won’t set for another shichen, but Liu Qingge knows a dismissal when he sees one. “Be safe.”

He summons Cheng Luan and starts to ascend, but he faintly hears Shen Qingqiu speak.

“Qingge… I thought that I… ”

His voice trails off and before Liu Qingge can whip around and ask what he said, Shen Qingqiu has already left the porch, door shut.

Things get better. But Liu Qingge still feels raw.

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t avoid him anymore, but he slowly distances himself. During meridian cleansing, he leads simple conversation instead of tense silence. But he does not lean back into Liu Qingge’s arms anymore, and his posture always remains straight and stiff. He is formal with his speech. Sometimes, he slips and talks excitedly, but then his voice will stop and his face becomes blank. Afterwards, he is more careful with his words— more aware of the eyes that follow them. 

Shen Qingqiu avoids being seen with him in private too often, instead meeting him where others can see. He keeps a respectful distance, skittering away from even an “accidental” touch. He will invite Liu Qingge over sparingly, and politely plays the part of the host— never more, never less. On the nights where he is allowed to Qing Jing, he is gently suggested to go home once the sun sets. Shen Qingqiu treats him as he does any guest.

The Bai Zhan War God does not cry, but he does come close.

In only a matter of days, Shen Qingqiu has raised walls around his heart, and Liu Qingge is shut out just like everyone else. 

He wants Shen Qingqiu back. His Shen Qingqiu. Beautiful and kind, soft and sweet. Unguarded and relaxed, the one that truly laughs at Liu Qingge’s terrible jokes, the one that laughs with him. He wants the Shen Qingqiu that looks at him warmly and calls him Qingge. 

He wants Shen Qingqiu to look at him and say Liu-shidi the way he used to, with barely hidden affection. He doesn’t want this— the detached and hollow formality of just Liu-shidi. 

But his words that day still taunt Liu Qingge.

A treasure that was never his.

Shen Qingqiu does not covet, which seems ridiculous on the surface. He constantly indulges in luxurious food, adorns himself in nothing but the finest cloth and carefully crafted decorations. A man like that who does not covet? But Liu Qingge knows that he doesn’t. Shen Qingqiu does not look with greed at the rich treasures they so often stumble across, but rather with interest at its craftsmanship and history.

He does not even buy new robes, Liu Qingge finds. Rather, the robes are courting gifts from various suitors— not that Shen Qingqiu ever knew, of course. Shen Qingqiu seems delighted every time, as if expecting robes of cheap cotton instead of the silks he wears. 

So for Shen Qingqiu to want this unknown treasure, it must have been truly special.

Whatever treasure that Shen Qingqiu had lost, he would return. After all, he is not some ordinary mortal, or even an ordinary cultivator. He is the Bai Zhan War God. He doesn’t know what kind of treasure it is, but it doesn’t matter. He will bring it back anyways. And then, maybe then, Shen Qingqiu would be okay. 

He would let his guard back down, just as he did before. He would tease him and draw him in with sly smiles and subtle gestures with his fan. He would be allowed to hold him in his arms again, relaxed and soft as he combs his hair. And instead of being just Liu-shidi, he could go back to being called Qingge.

With a plan in mind, he begins to make preparations.

“I will be leaving Cang Qiong for a while.” Liu Qingge has come to Qing Jing— both to see the lover he’s wronged and to cleanse his meridians before he goes. “There is something I must do.” 

Liu Qingge wants Shen Qingqiu to know why he’s leaving, to have some assurance while he’s gone. 

He adds, “It is for the one who holds my heart.” It is obvious now, that he is leaving for Shen Qingqiu, because who else could hold his heart? No man, no woman could ever compare to the Qing Jing Peak Lord.

Shen Qingqiu freezes slightly. He clears his throat and starts to speak, voice quiet.

“This shixiong understands,” he says slowly. “I wish you safe travel.” He hesitates, just for a split second.

Shen Qingqiu shoots up from his seat. His back is still turned to him. Liu Qingge desperately wishes he could see his face, for any clue.

“Well then, Liu-shidi.” The cheeriness in his voice is completely fake. “I imagine that your trip will take quite a while.” 

Neither speak, the silence uncomfortable. Shen Qingqiu takes a deep breath. When he speaks, his voice is carefully even.

“This shixiong wants to know— will you truly find happiness?”

Liu Qingge thinks. If he does this right, then Shen Qingqiu will let him back in again, to allow him the joy of having him. If he does this right, then his beloved will come back to him, and he will never let him go again. If that’s true, if it does happen—

“Yes,” he confirms, resolve solidifying. “I will be happy.” 

“Very well then. Goodbye then, shidi… Qingge. Goodbye, Qingge.”

Liu Qingge feels ecstatic, because Shen Qingqiu is opening back up to him. Shen Qingqiu, after weeks of that detached Liu-shidi, is finally calling him Qingge again. It takes every shred of his willpower to not sweep his lover into his arms and make him say it again. His fingers twitch.

“Yes. Goodbye.” He turns sharply, heading to the door. He pauses. “Goodbye, Qingqiu. I will come back.”

The for you is left unsaid. 

He shuts the door, and thinks of his Shen Qingqiu coming back to him. He feels resolve well up in him, and his mind wanders as he thinks of his lover. While he’s off the mountain, he can go hunt for some high level beasts, go buy fine silk fans and jewelry and other courting gifts. The thought sends waves of content through his bones and circulate through his system.

 Liu Qingge will come back to Cang Qiong laden with fine courting gifts for his beloved— and the best of them being his lover’s lost treasure.

Chapter Text

Liu Qingge is frustrated beyond belief, because his trip has been delayed. His disciples had decided to harass Shen Qingqiu again, and this was not something he could let slide. They had torn up the ground near his beloved groves where they took their afternoon walks. Not only that, but they had also targeted the disciples of Qing Jing. His lover was already dealing with his own issues— he did not need Liu Qingge’s brats to make matters worse.

When they came back, they had the gall to imply that it was “for their honor.” What honor? He had begrudgingly decided to delay his departure for a day, and instead punish those brats. 

He is in the middle of yelling at them when an Ah Ding Peak disciple comes running up to him, face red and breathing heavy.

“Asking forgiveness for interrupting Peak Lord Liu,” the disciple strangles out.

“Spit it out.” Liu Qingge feels his eye twitch— not only have his disciples caused trouble for his lover, but an Ah Ding Peak disciple has interrupted their punishment.

“This disciple has an urgent missive for Peak Lord Liu.” The boy holds out a piece of paper in his quivering hands, and Liu Qingge swipes it.

The letter is hastily written, strokes chaotic and ink still wet. 

Come to Ah Ding Peak immediately. Shen Qingqiu needs you.

His heart skips at the messy characters of his lover’s name. Shen Qingqiu needs him.

He glares at his disciples. Liu Qingge needs to go, now.

“150 laps around the mountainside, now!” He barks out. His disciples jump up, scrambling away.

In a flash, he summons Cheng Luan, his mind racing.

Shen Qingqiu is the Xiu Ya Sword, graceful and deadly. His qi couldn’t have failed, because Liu Qingge cleansed his meridians just yesterday. Not to mention, Shen Qingqiu is prideful, and he doesn’t ask for help, not until it’s almost too late. 

But Shang Qinghua is different. Liu Qingge’s frown deepens. Shang Qinghua is afraid of him— he’s seen the fearful gazes shot his way— but he still summoned him, for Shen Qingqiu’s sake. He mentally improves Shang Qinghua’s reputation. He may be a coward, but he still faced one of his many fears for his friend.

He arrives at Ah Ding in a matter of minutes, face pinched tight and mouth firm. Just like their shifu, the Ah Ding disciples take one look at him and turn pale, retreating with their tails tucked between their legs.

He storms up to Shang Qinghua’s office, and just before he can open the door, it swings open to reveal a frazzled Shang Qinghua. Strangely, Shang Qinghua looks relieved to see him.

“Liu Qingge,” the Ah Ding Peak Lord’s shoulders slump. “Thank heavens. I—” 

Before Shang Qinghua can continue, he hears crying in the room behind him. He stiffens.

“Shang Qinghua,” he growls out. “What is that.” He pushes the coward to the side, and his blood freezes at what he sees.

Shen Qingqiu is slumped over at the table, his eyes glazed over and his fingers barely gripping at a bottle. An angry flush of red travels up his face. The smell of liquor is completely overwhelming. Shen Qingqiu is drunk. 

Liu Qingge has never seen Shen Qingqiu in this state before. Shen Qingqiu does not drink, does not indulge so heavily. At most, he will politely accept one or two small cups of wine. Even so, he prefers his teas— occasionally fruit juices from street stalls. Liu Qingge has seen him decline alcohol time and time again, from well-meaning mortals to snake-like village chiefs. 

He is deeply unsettled, and before he can ask, something else happens.

Shen Qingqiu cries. Salty tears flow from his reddened eyes, and his face scrunches up, his normal impassive expression shattered. His hair is rumpled, and dried tear tracks run down his cheeks. It catches Liu Qingge off guard, and he tries to remember if Shen Qingqiu has ever cried in front of him. Shen Qingqiu sniffles a bit, and he curls up into himself clumsily, as if trying to shield his fragile heart.

He jolts as Shang Qinghua sighs behind him. 

“Come inside,” he gestures. He can do nothing but woodenly march behind the other.

Shang Qinghua shakes Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder gently.

“Hey, Cucumber-bro. Open your eyes.” Shen Qingqiu turns his face away. “Come on, man. Don’t do this. You asked for me to bring him.”

The statement doesn’t register, but Shen Qingqiu lifts his face up. Tears shine from his eyes.

“Airplane,” he slurs. “I can’t… I can’t do it.” 

“Drink some water. You need to sober up.” Shang Qinghua gently pushes a cup of water towards Shen Qingqiu. “There’s someone here to see you.”

“Don’t wanna,” he petulantly whines. “Make them go away.” 

Shang Qinghua snorts.

“You’re such a jerk.” Before Liu Qingge can snap at him for insulting his lover, he continues. “You came and terrorized me, took my wine, and then got completely drunk. If that’s not enough, you kept calling for Liu Qingge. You forced me to call him, and you know exactly how much he scares me!” 

Shen Qingqiu perks up. His mood swing is so unexpected, it makes Liu Qingge dizzy.

“Qingge’s here?” His eyes light up in delight. He looks around, but somehow misses the man in front of him. “Where is he? I’ve missed him so much!”

Liu Qingge flushes hard, but Shen Qingqiu doesn’t stop.

“You don’t understand, because you’ve got shit taste.” Liu Qingge holds back a laugh at the foul language unbefitting of the scholar. “Qingge is so beautiful. It’s too much! He just has every charm point possible. That jawline is so perfect, and his eyes are so kind and pretty even if he looks scary. And his beauty mark! I want to kiss it. No, I want to kiss him. Ah, my shidi really is perfect…” 

Shen Qingqiu’s expression is dreamy, and Liu Qingge feels torn. Shen Qingqiu loves him, he knows that, but why did he suddenly distance himself?

Suddenly, his mood switches again. Shen Qingqiu’s smile drops. His face loses all joy it had, and Liu Qingge desperately wishes he could see what his lover’s thought process is.

“No. I can’t do that.” Do what? Liu Qingge racks his brain. “Qingge— no, Liu-shidi. I can’t call him Qingge anymore.” 

“Why.” His voice rips out. Shang Qinghua has long left, but he doesn’t care. “Why can’t you?”

“Airplane, don’t be stupid.” Shen Qingqiu looks at him, unseeing. He hasn’t realized that the man in front of him isn’t the Ah Ding Peak Lord. “He’s getting married.”

He’s puzzled as to why it’s a problem, because the person he’s marrying is sitting right in front of him. Shen Qingqiu wipes hard at his tears with his sleeves. 

“He told Liu Mingyan that it would be in two months. I didn’t know,” he sniffles. Liu Qingge hadn’t even realized that he had overheard them that day. “I didn’t know that he loves someone else.”

Liu Qingge’s jaw drops, his stoic facade cracking.

“What,” he manages through the shock. “What did you just say?”

“I’m so stupid,” Shen Qingqiu cries. “I don’t know what to do, because I want him and he doesn’t want me.”

And then he keeps rambling, getting more frantic as his thoughts tumble out his mouth.

“I should have known that Qingge had someone already, but I was blind. I let myself love him, more than I already did. It was wrong, I should have realized it but I didn’t. I clung onto him like some starstruck girl, like a fool, and he must’ve been so uncomfortable, because he never loved me!” There’s fire in his eyes, and he starts slurring even more. “And then I overheard his conversation with Mingyan, and then I realized.”

His breath shudders, and the tears keep falling.

“Airplane, I know what they’re saying.” Shen Qingqiu’s voice turns bitter, mocking. “Peak Lord Shen and Peak Lord Liu. Did you hear? The Qing JIng Peak Lord does nothing but play around, follows the Bai Zhan Peak Lord like some village girl hoping to marry a wealthy man. He enters Bai Zhan Peak in the evening, and then leaves for Qing JIng in the morning. That he is nothing but a bed warmer,” he spits out. “Shen Qingqiu is pathetic.”

“You’re not,” Liu Qingge says, panicked. He wants to say a million things, but the words aren’t leaving his mouth fast enough. “You’re not pathetic.”

His panic transforms into something sharper, deadly. Anger roars through his body, and he wants to go hunt down those damn idiots who dare gossip, who dare hurt Shen Qingqiu. Shen Qingqiu was not just a bed warmer, or some village girl that wanted his wealth. How dare they talk as if Shen Qingqiu— his partner, his lover— is a cheap toy, something that he keeps as a plaything. Liu Qingge is the one that is lucky to have Shen Qingqiu, not the other way around. 

He had no idea that the rumors were so vicious, so crude. But if he is honest, Liu Qingge did not care to look deeper into the matter. Shen Qingqiu though… 

He decisively moves to his lover, to the man that holds his heart now and for the rest of time. He wraps his arms around Shen Qingqiu, rubs soothing circles into trembling shoulders. His partner, his beloved, stiffens and then cries into his chest. His arms wrap around Liu Qingge too, and Liu Qingge unconsciously rocks them— just like how his mother did when he was a young boy.

“I don’t want to let him go,” Shen Qingqiu cries. “I should be happy for Qingge, but I can’t. I can’t be happy.”

Before Liu Qingge can comfort his lover, Shen Qingqiu whispers something heartbreaking.

“Did you know? Before he left, he came to visit me. He told me that he would be leaving. I knew that he was going to find the woman that he loves, and propose to her. Two months, he told Mingyan and already a month had passed. And I was a fool, because I asked him. If he would find happiness.” 

Liu Qingge’s muscles freeze. 

“He told me that he would. That he would be happy.” Shen Qingqiu buries his face further into Liu Qingge’s robes. “I wish… I wish that I had the courage to tell him. I love him... I love Liu Qingge...” 

Shen Qingqiu’s voice trails off, and he realizes that his lover has cried himself to sleep. He holds him closer, careful like he is handling cracked porcelain.

I love Liu Qingge.

It’s the first time that he’s ever said it, but it’s not. Because Shen Qingqiu, all of those months ago, had placed his painted fan across his heart and told him, you have won my love.

And then, he realizes with a jolt, that he had never told Shen Qingqiu. He had assumed that Shen Qingqiu knew, because to him, it was obvious that Shen Qingqiu would be the only person who could ever have his devotion.

But… Shen Qingqiu didn’t know that, did he?

The pieces fall into place, and it feels like a heavenly calamity has struck Liu Qingge.

He never said it out loud, because he had just assumed that Shen Qingqiu knew. He mentally curses, because of course Shen Qingqiu can’t read his mind. And when he had overheard his conversation with Mingyan, he had simply made the assumption that Liu Qingge already had a partner— after all, he came from a prominent family. It wouldn’t have been strange for him to already have a partner. And with those disgusting rumors and slander going around, Shen Qingqiu would have come to an easy conclusion.

Liu Qingge is a taken man. Shen Qingqiu is simply a temporary bed warmer.

He feels white hot anger rise in his system once again, the temptation to hunt down the rumors and end them almost overwhelming. Guilt sharpens the edge of his anger, shame from his incompetence as a lover. The anger fades away as Shen Qingqiu snuffles and inhales his scent, relaxing in his sleep.

He holds Shen Qingqiu closer, closer than he’s ever dared. The Qing Jing Peak Lord is completely asleep, and he holds his dead weight with ease. He lets his head drop and slots it in the junction of Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder and neck. He dreams in Liu Qingge’s embrace, breathing deep and steady. It will be a while until Shen Qingqiu wakes up. Liu Qingge passes qi into his beloved, warm and comforting like a well worn quilt. He closes his eyes and allows himself this bliss.

Liu Qingge owes Shang Qinghua a favor, as much as he is loath to admit it. Shen Qingqiu must have confided in Shang Qinghua and he was grateful that Shang Qinghua decided to let him know, instead of keeping it between them.

He shifts his sleeping love in his arms, sweeping him up in a bridal carry. When Shen Qingqiu wakes up, Liu Qingge will prove his complete and utter devotion. 

Shang Qinghua carefully opens the door, his tense muscles relaxing upon seeing them standing. Liu Qingge supposes this must be an odd sight— Shen Qingqiu, passed out and carried like a maiden— but Shang Qinghua doesn’t even flinch.

“Ha, finally.” Shang Qinghua’s eyes soften a bit, and it strikes Liu Qingge that he’s never seen the Ah Ding Peak Lord look like this. “Cucumber-bro, you really are too dramatic…”

“Thanks for coming— you really don’t know just how much grief he put me through this morning… Ah, not to say it was your fault!” The Ah Ding Peak lord starts to ramble, and Liu Qingge has to stifle his annoyance. Shen Qingqiu is sleeping, and if Shang Qinghua woke him up, he would breathe his last. “But um, he really loves you— of course, he won’t tell you outright, and don’t tell him this, but really I—“

“Shang Qinghua.” The other man yelps at his interruption. Before he can start to grovel, he speaks. “Thank you. I will repay my debt to you.”

Shang Qinghua looks extremely touched. It’s a bit concerning. 

“Liu Qingge, you…” 

Liu Qingge brushes past the flailing peak lord.

He’s got something more important to do. Shang Qinghua can wait.

Shen Qingqiu cannot.

Chapter Text

Liu Qingge carries Shen Qingqiu to Qing Jing, ignoring the stares of his sticky disciples. They may not like Liu Qingge, but they would learn to. He was devoted to their master, even if those baseless rumors suggested otherwise.

The moon slowly rises, bright and beautiful. It is late in the evening, and a slight breeze ruffles their robes. Shen Qingqiu’s house greets them, and Liu Qingge has to hold back a smile at the familiar sight. 

The door clicks open, and Liu Qingge carefully steps inside. Just as he did all of those days before, he walks to Shen Qingqiu’s bedroom. The bed is still covered in pillows, and he carefully clears a section of it before setting down his lover. Shen Qingqiu isn’t a small man by any means, but his frame is engulfed by the bed and he looks tiny.

It is improper, but Liu Qingge pulls the hairpin out of Shen Qingqiu’s hair. He has no impure intentions (at least, not right now) so it is fine. It’s odd, he muses— this is not the first time that Liu Qingge has even touched his hair, but he still feels like he is taking advantage of Shen Qingqiu.

He sighs.

Today was exhausting. He could battle for hours and still be fine, but conflicts that made him deal with his emotions drain all of his energy. Emotions have never been his strong point, a painfully obvious fact. He quietly watches Shen Qingqiu’s sleeping form— the steady rise and fall of his chest, the exhale of breath. 

To love Shen Qingqiu is easy. He cannot imagine loving any other— man or woman. He imagines his devotion is carved into his bones, vows and oaths stark against the white of his ribs. Shen Qingqiu would only need to smile, to call him Liu-shidi with unrestrained affection, and Liu Qingge would slay any beast, bring him any treasure he desires. 

Shen Qingqiu holds a power, although unknown to him. As long as Shen Qingqiu asks, he will do anything. After all, he has always returned his fans, brought him beasts and plants from dangerous lands and valleys.  He knows it looks ridiculous to others— the great Peak Lord Liu, a loyal dog— but he doesn’t care for their words. What are their words when compared to Shen Qingqiu’s? He loves him, not them.

It is a truth, one that Liu Qingge has never needed to and never will question. Liu Qingge loves Shen Qingqiu. He doesn’t need to look further into it. His heart has never wavered. 

He wants nothing more than to wake Shen Qingqiu, to tell him that he is the one that Liu Qingge holds in his heart. He wants to clear up this misunderstanding right now— but Shen Qingqiu is asleep. He had cried and cried, his emotions so overwhelming that his body eventually gave in to exhaustion. 

He carefully takes Shen Qingqiu’s hand in his, gently rubbing circles into the thin skin. 

When Shen Qingqiu wakes up, he will clear up everything. 

Everything.

Shen Qingqiu wakes up in the early morning, the sun peeking through his windows.

He groans in pain from what Liu Qingge assumes to be an intense hangover. He rummages in his qiankun pouch, mentally sighing in relief as he finds a pill.

“Here.”

He holds it out to Shen Qingqiu, carefully depositing it into his hands. Mu Qingfang had given it to him as a hangover cure, but he never had a use for it. Until now.

 He hums, pleased at the effectiveness of the medicine. Shen Qingqiu’s complexion becomes better, and the man flushes as he realizes the situation. He jerks up from his bed quickly. He must be embarrassed— but Liu Qingge doesn’t care for that. He obligingly hands Shen Qingqiu his fan, the other’s eyes lighting up in relief as he snaps it open.

“Better?” 

“Yes. Thank you, Liu-shidi.” Liu Qingge frowns. He’s tired of Shen Qingqiu trying to conceal his emotions. “This shixiong must apologize. Not only have I shown you disgraceful behavior, but it seems that I have also delayed your trip.”

Shen Qingqiu lightly fans himself, his head turned away. He wants to tell Shen Qingqiu to look at him, but he holds his tongue. There’s something more important.

“No. I’m not going anymore.”

He’s not so inept that he couldn’t figure out what Shen Qingqiu’s “treasure” was. It had taken several hours of meditation, but he had figured it out last night. He is the treasure. Shen Qingqiu wants to hold him and keep his heart. He wants to take Shen Qingqiu’s hand, and tell him that the treasure was— is— always his. His heart beats faster in his chest at the thought.

Shen Qingqiu turns his head back to his, eyes narrowed in suspicion. They soften, and he turns his gaze down. Avoiding Liu Qingge’s.

“Shidi, don’t be so rash. It is discourteous to…” Shen Qingqiu briefly pauses. “To the one who holds your heart to let them wait like this.”

He has to hold back a smile. Shen Qingqiu is right— it is discourteous to keep him waiting. Especially since he is sitting right there.

“It is.” He steels himself. “Shen Qingqiu. I’m sorry for making you wait. Please forgive me.” He bows his head.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Shen Qingqiu process his words before he puffs up in anger. He looks like a particularly hissy cat, he thinks fondly. Shen Qingqiu stands up, and before he knows it, he gets smacked with Shen Qingqiu’s beloved fan.

“Liu-shidi, really! You call me shameless, and this is how you act? You, you!” He splutters. Liu Qingge rather likes this— it’s not everyday that the eloquent Qing Jing Peak Lord loses his words like this. “This joke isn’t funny.” His voice turns somber at the end.

“Qingge— no, Liu-shidi,” he emphasizes. “It is disrespectful to joke in this way— to me and to them. They… They are waiting for you.”

The anger has bled out, and the air becomes heavy, charged with tension.

“Go, Liu-shidi. Do not let this one keep you.” Shen Qingqiu turns away.

“Shen Qingqiu. Qingqiu.” Still, he doesn’t turn around. Liu Qingge stops, hesitant. “Shixiong.”

He’s never called the other man shixiong before. It seems to do the trick though, because Shen Qingqiu twists and his eyes lock on Liu Qingge’s in shock. He drops his fan on the floor, and Liu Qingge picks it up. He’s about to pass it to the other when he gets an idea. He’s never done it before— Liu Qingge, carrying a fan?— but he feels it is right. 

He draws the fan across his eyes. 

I am sorry.

He flicks the fan open, and clasps his hands around the fan’s sticks. 

Forgive me.

Finally, he lowers the fan to his chest— just like how Shen Qingqiu did all that time ago. 

You have won my love.

Shen Qingqiu still looks dumbstruck. He looks into Liu Qingge’s eyes, and he can see the confusion. 

“It was for you. I was going off the mountain for you, to find your lost treasure. But I know what that treasure is now.”

Shen Qingqiu freezes. 

It is for the one who holds my heart.

He tucks the fan into his belt, and takes Shen Qingqiu’s hands in his. They are warm and smooth. Shen Qingqiu tries to pull his hands away halfheartedly.

“Shidi, you cannot seriously be suggesting—”

“I am.” He smiles at Shen Qingqiu. “I love you.”

 Shen Qingqiu’s mouth falls open.

“Qingge, I…” His heart skips a beat, and he imagines Shen Qingqiu is just as nervous as him. “I hold a great deal of affection for you. More than what is proper for sect siblings.” 

“Qingqiu.” He steps closer and places his hand on Shen Qingqiu’s cheek, fascinated at the delicate red that spreads from the contact. Shen Qingqiu’s breath catches, and he leans into his hand. “I know.”

Shen Qingqiu’s mask shatters. He takes Liu Qingge’s hand off of his face, and holds it like he is a priceless treasure.

“Qingge, please don’t joke.” Shen Qingqiu has an odd look in his eyes he’s never seen. “You truly mean it?”

“Yes.” 

Shen Qingqiu shudders out a breath.

“Please, Qingge. Please, let me…” 

He’s never heard Shen Qingqiu call his name with such heavy desperation. Heat pools in his chest, an ache that is familiar but much more fierce. Flames of desire lick up his arms and his legs, all consuming.

He surges forward, intent on kissing Shen Qingqiu. Shen Qingqiu winds his arms around his body, and he returns the gesture. Their faces crash together, and he’s treated to the sharp pain of their noses colliding. Shen Qingqiu jerks back with a hiss of pain, and he feels embarrassed at the inexperience that he’s just shown the other. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t seem to mind, though, and he says nothing. He smiles, bright and blinding.

“Like this,” he whispers. Time slows, the moment almost painfully intimate. He guides Liu Qingge’s hand to his face, tilting his head into it. “Qingge.”

He tries again.

Shen Qingqiu’s lips are soft. He closes his eyes, overwhelmed. He has never been this close to the Qing Jing Peak Lord, and his presence is overpowering. The blood in his veins pumps faster, and all encompassing want fills him.

He presses harder against Shen Qingqiu, insistent and demanding. He doesn’t know if it’s out of shock, but the seam of Shen Qingqiu’s lips part and he takes the opportunity. Shen Qingqiu groans into his mouth, and Liu Qingge needs more. His hands wind into Shen Qingqiu’s beautiful hair, and Shen Qingqiu tightens his arms around his waist. The kiss grows more and more intense, and Liu Qingge regretfully pulls back when they run out of breath. Shen Qingqiu is dazed, a high flush painted on his cheeks and lips swollen.

“Qingqiu, I—” he cuts off in shock as Shen Qingqiu kisses his cheek. He blushes furiously, and he knows his ears are just as red. “You! What are you!”

Shen Qingqiu kisses him again. And again, and again, so many times that Liu Qingge almost loses count. He pulls away, and begins peppering kisses all over his face. Shen Qingqiu’s thumb traces over his features before it stops, focusing on the beauty mark under his eye. He presses another kiss there, soft and slow. 

“Indulge me, shidi.” Shen Qingqiu’s lips move over, and he presses a kiss to the shell of his ear. He holds back a shiver. “Hold your shixiong, just for a moment more.”

Liu Qingge has never been able to say no to his lover anyways.

Chapter Text

Being in a relationship— actually being in one— is much different than before. 

Liu Qingge does not like change, but he finds that this one is welcomed.

Shen Qingqiu is a clingy lover. Even more than before, shockingly enough. As soon as the doors close, Shen Qingqiu demands to be held. He will launch himself at Liu Qingge, even though he hates it when Qingqiu does that, because he knows that Liu Qingge will catch him. Even when Shen Qingqiu is completely and utterly exhausted, he still pleads for Liu Qingge to hold him. It is completely and utterly endearing, and Liu Qingge feels a surge of affection rise for his lover.

When he sits to do his admittedly overdue paperwork, Shen Qingqiu will clamber into his lap, arms wrapping around his neck and his face tucked into his chest with a satisfied sigh. His warm body, his heated kisses across Liu Qingge’s face and neck are all distracting, but he can’t say no to his lover. His paperwork can wait.

Surprisingly, his lover is insecure. He is always shocked when Liu Qingge blatantly tells him that he loves him, as if he never thought it could be possible. He blushes prettily when Liu Qingge compliments him, and turns his head away in embarrassment when he calls him sweetly. 

Shen Qingqiu kisses him everyday. He kisses him sweetly, and Liu Qingge is reminded of their days as disciples. He kisses him with heated intensity, and Liu Qingge’s mind becomes a slurry of want and desire. He presses his lips to Liu Qingge’s cheek, before he turns away and claims with a furious blush that he has “stolen” a kiss. Liu Qingge doesn’t understand how, when all of his kisses are Shen Qingqiu’s, and Shen Qingiu’s are his.

He tells Shen Qingqiu as much, and gets smacked with a fan for his bold words. They both know Shen Qingqiu enjoys being told so anyways.

So when his lover comes home and does none of that, he’s extremely concerned.

“Qingqiu?” 

Shen Qingqiu snaps out of his daze. He’s just come from his weekly tea session with Shang Qinghua. Liu Qingge frowns, because there must be a problem. Shen Qingqiu never forgets to greet him, never fails to smile and press a kiss to his lips and wind his arms around his waist. He would never admit it out loud, but he finds himself missing it. 

“Qingge.” Shen Qingqiu snaps his fan open and fans himself, looking away. “Ah, you wouldn’t happen to know fan language?”

Liu Qingge blinks, because of course he does. He is Young Master Liu. His mother made sure that he would know every subtle gesture, every social nicety in the hopes he would not accidentally find himself in debt or, heavens forbid, promised to some insipid young miss. 

“Yes, I do.” 

Shen Qingqiu blushes, fanning himself harder.

“I— I see.” He avoids Liu Qingge’s questioning look. “Darling, I—”

His jaw snaps shut. He starts stammering out some excuse but Liu Qingge doesn’t care, because Shen Qingqiu has called him darling. The sound is sweet on his tongue. The ring of the word is beautiful, and he needs to show his appreciation for it. He surges forward, trapping his flustered lover in his arms. Shen Qingqiu drops his fan in shock and turns his head away, but he presses a reverential kiss to that lovely cheekbone anyways.

“Again,” he says, smiling against his lover’s skin. “Say it again. Please.”

Liu Qingge does not say please. But he needs to hear it again, to hear that beautifully shaped word directed at him again.

“Qingge, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shen Qingqiu halfheartedly struggles under his grip. His hold, while firm, is weak enough that his lover could escape if he truly wanted to. “How dare you, treating your shixiong like this?”

He lets out a huff of amusement.

“Please? Won’t you indulge your shidi?” He murmurs. As a final blow, he adds, “Shixiong.”

That does it— Shen Qingqiu’s calm composure shatters into pieces and he feels satisfaction purr in his chest at the flash of desire in his eyes. Shen Qingqiu blindingly kisses him like Liu Qingge is the only thing that exists, and heat builds. Liu Qingge teasingly nips at Shen Qingqiu, and he lets out a breathy gasp.

“Darling,” Shen Qingqiu pleads. “Darling, my love, I want, I need—”

Liu Qingge cuts off Shen Qingqiu with another kiss. He melts in his arms, comfortable and trusting. He leans into Liu Qingge, seeking more and more. Liu Qingge sweeps him into a carry, heading for their bedroom.

It’s only hours later that he remembers Shen Qingqiu’s odd behavior. It doesn’t matter, he thinks hazily. Whatever it is, Shen Qingqiu will eventually tell him.

Shen Qingqiu does not tell him. His lover is tight-lipped, even when Liu Qingge gently pries and speaks.

What actually happens is that Liu Qingge finds out from Shang Qinghua. It is both shocking, but not at all.

“You know, I really didn’t expect it,” he rambles, shuffling his paperwork. Liu Qingge is about to storm out when the Ah Ding Peak Lord adds, “I mean, it’s impressive that he still managed to get his point across— I guess that’s Cucumber-bro for you though! Can you believe that he really had no idea what he told you? He even asked me to teach it to him, of course he’d never admit it, ha!”

Liu Qingge’s interest is piqued, because that nickname is what he calls Shen Qingqiu, and Shang Qinghua, teaching Shen Qingqiu?

“Elaborate.”

Shang Qinghua replies with a distracted hum. 

“Well, he forgot fan language, you know? I guess he must have had it tucked away in his brain or something, because—”

“What.” His voice is flat. He stands up, papers fluttering around him. Shang Qinghua looks up, and he turns pale.

“Oh shit,” he says faintly. Shang Qinghua rushes at him, and before he can step far away from him, he immediately falls to the ground and prostrates himself. Liu Qingge sighs internally, before remembering that it’s Shang Qinghua— the most cowardly Peak Lord. He wonders again how he ever became friends with Shen Qingqiu.

“Don’t tell Cucumber-bro! He’ll kill me,” he cries. He’s got a point, Liu Qingge thinks mildly. An angry Shen Qingqiu really would kill him. “You weren’t ever supposed to find out, please have mercy! I didn’t even realize you were still there, usually you leave—! Um, not to say that you’re a bad person, even though you scare me a lot but—“

“Stop.” Liu Qingge must have a rather annoyed expression because Shang Qinghua cuts off with a squeak.

It makes a lot of sense that Shen Qingqiu couldn’t remember— he was confused when Liu Qingge declared his intent (although he had assumed that his reaction was from something else). He’s honestly impressed— it must have been so deeply ingrained in him that he subconsciously remembered the actions and used them. 

It also explains his odd question the other day. Knowing his lover’s thin face, he imagines that he had been extremely embarrassed. He bites back a smile.

“I’m not telling him.” Liu Qingge knows his lover, and the Qing Jing Peak Lord would rather die than be truthful. Shen Qingqiu really is too much for his heart. His lover still wants to impress him, as if he’s afraid that he’ll run for the hills the moment his guard completely drops. 

He could never.

Shang Qinghua starts blabbering again, crying in relief. Liu Qingge sighs— this visit is over, and he wants to go to Qing Jing Peak already. With this, he can finally get rid of the favor he owes Shang Qinghua.

“Consider this my debt repaid.”

He shakes the Ah Ding Peak Lord off of his leg and walks out.

Shen Qingqiu is waiting for him, after all.

Chapter Text

He comes back home to the sound of Shen Qingqiu’s absentminded humming. It’s an unfamiliar tune, slow and smooth. It is not one that he has heard from any Qing Jing disciples either. Perhaps Shen Qingqiu is creating original music for their lessons? He wouldn’t doubt it.

Shen Qingqiu is writing or drawing something— his beloved inkstone is set on the table, and he delicately holds his brush in his hand. He thoughtfully draws his brush across the paper, as he hums some more. He still hasn’t spotted Liu Qingge at the door, and he feels no reason to interrupt.

He feels a besotted smile grow on his face, and he doesn’t try to smother it. He leans against the doorway, his bad mood completely gone away. He waits some more, basking in the sight of his lover. 

Eventually, Shen Qingqiu stands and stretches his long limbs. His eyes wander, and they catch sight of Liu Qingge standing in the doorway. His face lights up in joy, and Liu Qingge falls in love all over again.

“Qingge!” His lover comes closer to greet him, and presses a kiss to his cheek. His arms wind around Liu Qingge’s waist, and Liu Qingge thinks that yes, he really is the luckiest man alive. “When did you get home, darling?”

“Just now.” His posture relaxes, and he lets out a brief sigh. “I missed you.”

Liu Qingge wakes up with Shen Qingqiu tucked in his arms, and goes to sleep holding him, and yet it’s true. He missed Shen Qingqiu. He imagines every day will be like this. As much as he wants to stay at home with his beloved all day, they are both busy with their peak lord duties.

Shen Qingqiu laughs, although they both know he feels the same.

“My darling, aren’t you so sticky? Making fun of my disciples, and yet you’re worse than them!” Shen Qingqiu pinches his cheek, but lets go and rubs apologetically at the red spot. Liu Qingge huffs, but leans into his touch. “Did something happen?”

He’s tempted to tell him about Shang Qinghua, if he’s honest. His lover is always handsome, but when he’s angry, it makes him even more attractive. Besides, it would be rather amusing to see the Ah Ding Peak Lord beat down by his beloved…

“Qingge? Qingge?” When he finally snaps out of his thoughts, Shen Qingqiu has both of his hands on his face, his clever mouth turned downwards. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Mn.” Shen Qingqiu still looks worried, so he pulls his hands down and folds them in his. “It’s nothing.”

Shen Qingqiu shoots him a look as if to say it’s nothing, but drops it anyways. He moves to the table, motioning for him to follow. There’s a pot of tea set out, and Shen Qingqiu moves to pour some into a cup already set out for him. 

Liu Qingge obligingly sits at his spot and waits for Shen Qingqiu to do the same before he lifts the teacup to his mouth. Shen Qingqiu slides into his seat, and they begin their familiar routine of exchanging pleasantries. After a while, he picks up his brush and it is only then that Liu Qingge sees it.

Shen Qingqiu notices his gaze and smiles at him. He waits for the ink to dry before handing it over to him.

“What do you think, Liu-shidi? This shixiong wanted to decorate this fan with something new.” 

The plain paper of the fan is decorated with a colorful pair of birds which he knows weren’t there before. He would not be surprised if Shen Qingqiu had pulled the likenesses from one of his beloved personal bestiaries. They huddle together, small and dare he say… cute. Shen Qingqiu looks at him with expectant eyes.

“They are… good.” Shen Qingqiu seems pleased enough, and he begins an explanation.

“Mm, aren’t they cute?” Shen Qingqiu laughs, as if he had read Liu Qingge’s mind. “They’re Fruit-Feathered Lovebirds. They’re quite romantic— when they find a mate, they’ll bind to the other and share each other’s life force. Supposedly, they can live up to thousands of years together.” He speaks pleasantly, and Liu Qingge carefully touches the illustration.

Bound together, forever? He thinks about their wedding. Someday, they’ll join together in matrimony, their souls intertwined forever. He inwardly smiles at the thought.

Shen Qingqiu narrows his eyes.

“You’re planning something.” He accuses. Shen Qingqiu has always been able to read his stoic face. “You have that look— that one, I know you are.”

“And what if I am?” He shoots back. He fiddles with the fan. An idea crosses his mind.

Slowly, he closes the fan, the sticks clacking one by one. Shen Qingqiu takes a sharp breath, and they both know what it means this time.

I promise to marry you.

His lover reaches out, hands shaking. Liu Qingge presses the fan in his hands.

Shen Qingqiu brings it up and lets it rest on his right cheek.

Yes.

Liu Qingge smiles, and pulls his lover— his soon to be husband— into his lap. He tilts Shen Qingqiu’s face, and leans in to kiss him. Shen Qingqiu sighs against his lips, and they break away when they finally lose their breath.

“Qingge.” Shen Qingqiu looks happy, happier than Liu Qingge has ever seen him. It’s a beautiful look. “You honor your shixiong.”

“No.” Shen Qingqiu seems surprised. “The honor— it is mine.”

Shen Qingqiu’s thin face finally comes back to him, and he turns away with a huff.

“Really, Liu-shidi,” he starts. He pauses, and Liu Qingge just knows that he’s planning something. Shen Qingqiu has that wicked smirk on his face. “Or shall I call you husband?”

Liu Qingge feels heat rise in his face.

Husband.

It’s a wonderful word. It’s beautiful, and the way it rolls off of Shen Qingqiu’s tongue is electrifying. He wants to hear it for the rest of his life. Not for the first time, he thanks the heavens for blessing him with such a wonderful life, with his wonderful lover.

His frozen expression must be dumbstruck, because Shen Qingqiu leans closer, soft ink hair framing his face.

“Well then, what shall my husband call me, hmm?” He whispers. “Shall I be your husband, darling? Or… will I be your wife?”

His grip becomes tighter.

Wife. Liu Qingge’s wife. The Qing Jing Peak Lord, the peerless immortal of green, his wife. His eyes darken with desire and want. Shen Qingqiu hums lightly, pleased at his lover’s reaction.

“Well then, husband.” Shen Qingqiu brushes his lips against Liu Qingge’s beauty mark. “Won’t you call me?”

“Shen Qingqiu! You!” 

He tsks, reprimanding.

“No.” There’s a playful spark in Shen Qingqiu’s eyes, and Liu Qingge would have felt fond any other time, but his lover was teasing him in that shameless way again. “Call me.”

His eyes are determined, and Liu Qingge knows that this is not a fight he can win. He huffs, and Shen Qingqiu smiles.

“My beloved— my wife.” He adjusts and kisses him, reverential and awed. His hands reach up, and he cards his fingers through Shen Qingqiu’s beautiful hair. Shen Qingqiu lets out a pleased sound, closing his eyes and letting Liu Qingge bear his weight. “I love you.”

Shen Qingqiu cracks open one eye—

“I love you too.”

Liu Qingge is nervous. 

It is foreign, unfamiliar. He feels the sharp edge of anxiety pierce his system, and he forces himself to calm down.

Today is his wedding. He lets a smile wash over his face, features relaxing. Years ago, if someone had told him he would be married, happily so, he would’ve scoffed. For most of his life, he had believed that he would live by himself with no need for a partner. But now? 

Today is his wedding. Today is his wedding to Shen Qingqiu. He is binding his life, his soul to Shen Qingqiu for eternity. 

“Qingge.” Shen Qingqiu smiles at him, and he sucks in a breath.

Shen Qingqiu is beautiful in the greens of his Peak, even more so in the blues of his own Bai Zhan, but nothing can compare to this. 

He is dressed in rich reds, soft silk and chiffon against pale jade skin. His rouged cheeks and lips are stunning, visible underneath the red gauze of his veil. He is adorned with finely sculpted gold jewelry, and Liu Qingge can’t help but stare.

They bow together, and Liu Qingge feels it deep in his soul. 

Once, for Heaven and Earth.

Shen Qingqiu's gaze is heavy on his skin, and he returns it before they break for the next bow.

Second, for their relatives.

His mother and father beam at him. They had been shocked about his letter stating his intention to court and marry, but they had loved Shen Qingqiu at first sight. Shang Qinghua holds back his tears. Shen Qingqiu had no living family, and he had asked Shang Qinghua to stand in their place.

Shen Qingqiu’s breath hitches, and his does too.

He faces Shen Qingqiu, and bows deeply for his partner— his husband now.

When he comes back up, Shen Qingqiu’s eyes are already trained on him, shining with unshed tears.

“Qingge.” Shen Qingqiu smiles at him, his radiance almost blinding. “You honor your shixiong.”

“No.”

The words are familiar, and it brings a small smile onto his face. “The honor is mine.”

The party lasts long into the night— the banquet hall of Cang Qiong Sect completely covered in bright crimson. Fluffy white snow gently falls outside the window, mesmerizing and sparkling. The stark contrast of bold red and gentle white is as beautiful as Liu Qingge had imagined, but there is something far more breathtaking in front of him.

“Qingqiu.” He lifts his hand up and presses a soft kiss to the skin. “You are beautiful.”

His darling flushes, and he turns his head away in embarrassment.

“You! Don’t say that, not in front of everyone!” 

“Hmm. No.” Shen Qingqiu gapes at him, and he laughs. It wasn’t like he lied. It was the truth. Shen Qingqiu is beautiful. Liu Qingge is the luckiest man in the world. “My wife.”

“I told you not to call me that in front of others,” he mumbles, pink rising on his face. “You know how I feel about it.” Before he can tease his wife some more, Shen Qingqiu sees something behind him. “Shang Qinghua!”

“One moment, my love.” He beckons the other over, clearly intent on sticking next to Liu Qingge. Shang Qinghua bounds up to them, not unlike a puppy. 

“Cucumber-bro! Congratulations on your wedding. Ah, you too Liu Qingge.” Shang Qinghua has a mouth full of food, and he’s still obnoxiously chewing when he greets them. Liu Qingge stifles the urge to clobber the man for being so rude.

“Shang Qinghua.” His love’s eyes are warm. “Thank you.”

Liu Qingge can see the gears stop whirring in Shang Qinghua’s head, and the man chokes.

“What?” He finally swallows his food, and he looks completely shocked.

“Thank you,” his husband repeats. He squeezes Liu Qingge’s hand, comforting and reassuring before he lets go and takes Shang Qinghua’s hands in his. “I didn’t think I could ever have this happiness. It’s because of you. So thank you.”

The words finally register in Shang Qinghua's brain. Tears well up in his eyes, and he sniffles.

“Cucumber-bro, you… You’re my best friend!” He wails, and Shen Qingqiu chuckles before he opens his arms and embraces the Ah Ding Peak Lord. “I thought you hated me!”

“Haa, don’t cry Airplane. Get a grip on yourself.” His lover radiates with happiness, and Liu Qingge feels more than content to simply watch. “I just wanted to say thank you for everything.”

Shen Qingqiu pulls away and offers Shang Qinghua a handkerchief, amused as the other blows his nose into it. He’s about to walk away when Shang Qinghua pulls on his sleeve. Liu Qingge watches with mild interest as Shang Qinghua whispers something in his lover’s ear, and Shen Qingqiu nods in embarrassment. 

“What did he tell you?” He asks out of curiosity. His beloved averts the question, as expected. 

“It wasn’t important. Qingge, let’s go eat, hmm? I haven’t eaten all day.”

“Alright.” He picks his husband up in a carry.

Shen Qingqiu flails in surprise and demands to be let down, but he doesn’t particularly care.

“My love, darling.” Shen Qingqiu squirms in embarrassment. “My wife, won’t you indulge your husband?” Shen Qingqiu hides his face in his hands, his thin face coming back in full force.

“Just this once,” Shen Qingqiu mumbles. “But after this, never again, alright?”

“Of course.”

They both know it’s a lie.

Shen Qingqiu leans back into Liu Qingge— into his husband’s— chest. Decades later, the title still feels hot against his skin. Husband. He lets out a puff of air, warm against the bite of winter.

“Qingge— my husband. Won’t you kiss your wife?” His arms tighten around his partner. 

Wife.

He still feels the same prick of excitement, the rush of desire run down his spine when he hears it. Shen Qingqiu laughs at his reaction, but he’s content to let it go, and Liu Qingge gives his lover the kiss he so prettily asked for. It is languid and slow, and they gently break away when Shen Qingqiu shivers.

He frowns, and sends a thread of warm qi to his lover. Shen Qingqiu groans in relief, his eyes closing in bliss.

“Thank you darling.” They stand there like that, and Shen Qingqiu opens his eyes. He taps at Liu Qingge to let him go, and rearranges himself so they are face to face. “Like this. Hold me like this.”

He leans in, the slide of his lips smooth against his lover’s skin. Shen Qingqiu’s hands come up to caress his face, and his arms encircle Shen Qingqiu’s waist. Snow gently falls on them, glittering and powder-soft.

“Liu-shidi.” He cocks his head, questioning. Even after all this time, Shen Qingqiu still calls him that. “Haa, you really are so filial to your shixiong. Ah, this one is truly honored.” 

He nuzzles into Liu Qingge’s broad chest, content. Liu Qingge’s hands come up to card through his hair. 

“No.”

“No?”

“The honor— it is mine.” 

Liu Qingge smiles at Shen Qingqiu, and he does the same. This conversation is one that always seems to follow them, decades after he had proposed, after their three bows. The words are familiar and comfortable, and they know how it goes.

“Husband.”

“Wife.”

“Aiya, so charming. I wonder how I ever managed to snatch you up before anyone else did.” Shen Qingqiu sighs dramatically. “My Qingge— too handsome for your own good. Such a heartbreaker, my husband!”

Liu Qingge stifles a laugh, but Shen Qingqiu shoots him a dirty look and huffs.

“You! You always laugh when I say that,” he grumbles. “What exactly won’t my husband tell me?”

Liu Qingge thinks about the literal mountains of suitors his husband was, and still is, unaware of and wisely decides not to comment. No need to let him know that between the two of them, Shen Qingqiu definitely won in that aspect.

“Unimportant.”

He pauses, before speaking softly.

“This shidi wanted to congratulate his most beloved shixiong.” Shen Qingqiu blushes at the address. “Happy anniversary.”

Shen Qingqiu’s eyes soften.

“Then this shixiong must also return the sentiment.” Shen Qingqiu reaches up for a kiss, soft and languid. “Happy anniversary, Qingge.”